The scene played so well in the back of Zeiks mind. Zeik and Gaderian were fleeing Lómëdor. It was the one job they could not complete. They were sent to recover a artifact being carried by a satyr named Rychek. The quest went very well. They had eliminated Rychek and retrieved the artifact known as the vine whip. It did not seem to be a extremely powerful weapon but for some reason this man wanted it. After retrieving the weapon they went to see the mysterious man that gave them the job.

Rule one of being a mercenary is never give your name. When they arrived back in Lómëdor they waited at a tavern. After speaking with the man his offer was not great enough so they left with the artifact. The man was furious but could not make a scene or it would attract attention to what they were doing. For the time being Zeik held the whip.

For a while they traveled and eventually wound up in The Village of Estolad. It was a small rural village with few roads, which were only made of dirt, and tiny houses. Up ahead was a inn. The name on the sign said "Kaima Inn". The two of them entered the inn and looked around. It was small with few people. Zeik headed to the counter and asked for a room. "Can we get a room?" The man working the counter said yes and handed them a key. They both headed up the stairs and fell on the beds. With a long trip ahead of them in the morning they needed it.

Zathael strolled slowly towards the village as the sun set, her hood pulled high so that her face could not be properly seen. The villagers would probably become violent if they saw what she was, and right now she did not have any time too kill stupid villagers.

The attack had come as a great surprise to Zathael. She had been resting under a tree and waiting for the noon day sun to pass when she had been attacked by a band of wolves. Zathael did not mind the sun, but that day it had been patricianly bright and she had struggled to see her assailants. Though at most times her reflexes where excellent but she had been feeling sluggish and one of the wolves managed to take a pretty large slice out of her left arm. She had of course decimated the pack, making sure that they suffered great pain before their deaths. But it had not been as easy a fight as she was used to. This did not improve her mood.
As a vampire she healed quickly, but the wound was still bleeding and Zathael was feeling slightly feverish. She had decided that her only course of action would be to find a healer; one willing to heal a vampire.

Zathael walked into the nearby inn, her shoulders hunched and her face shrouded in shadows. She walked up to the counter and ordered a room then made her way to the lobby and sat in the corner furthest away from the fire as it crackled brightly . Then she took out a red tinted glass bottle and took a sip of the contents.