After a long day's work at the forge, A'turius finally got his one meal of the day at the wench. The Bismarck was currently completely out of his pockets' reach but the Wench was fine. Tonight was fine for ales and a steak. The last night was particularly hard for him.
He had dreamt of a female. A female sunseeker. Short cropped tawny curled hair. Vibrant green eyes. He remembered seeing her and a well of emotions had filled him. Regret. Dread. Longing. Who was she? Why did it cause him both joy and sadness when he saw her?
There was another. A hyuran female. His image of her was strange. Sometimes fine, fair... pale. Long red hair. Others, she was battered. Hurt. Short cut red hair. The sight of her made his hand curl into the grip his master said was a swordsmen's. Was it anger? No, it had been more... protective. Willing to kill but not her.
Just like the sunseeker before her, A'turius was willing to kill for the red-haired midlander.
But... who were they? Were they looking for him? Did he have such a relationship with them that they might care for him? ...did they care for him?
Were they of any relation to the strange piece of metal he'd found in his pack? It had been shaped into a sort of shield and shakily a sharp thin tool had carved into it "Do not Falter."
What did it mean? What was its significance.
These were the types of things weighing upon A'turius's mind as he drank the night away and filled his belly full of aldgoat.
He had dreamt of a female. A female sunseeker. Short cropped tawny curled hair. Vibrant green eyes. He remembered seeing her and a well of emotions had filled him. Regret. Dread. Longing. Who was she? Why did it cause him both joy and sadness when he saw her?
There was another. A hyuran female. His image of her was strange. Sometimes fine, fair... pale. Long red hair. Others, she was battered. Hurt. Short cut red hair. The sight of her made his hand curl into the grip his master said was a swordsmen's. Was it anger? No, it had been more... protective. Willing to kill but not her.
Just like the sunseeker before her, A'turius was willing to kill for the red-haired midlander.
But... who were they? Were they looking for him? Did he have such a relationship with them that they might care for him? ...did they care for him?
Were they of any relation to the strange piece of metal he'd found in his pack? It had been shaped into a sort of shield and shakily a sharp thin tool had carved into it "Do not Falter."
What did it mean? What was its significance.
These were the types of things weighing upon A'turius's mind as he drank the night away and filled his belly full of aldgoat.
