He had taken to walking about the areas surrounding the city. Sleep wasn't coming easily now but that wasn't a terrible problem for him. He was afraid what came to him in the realm of dreams would be worse than what inflicted him while the sun burned high above, so while the moon walked its path so too did he pick his own. No grand travel it was by any means, merely into the reaches of Thanalan directly bordering Ul'dah itself, but the sunrise was something to behold nonetheless. He tried to shake his other memories of watching it rise.
He felt lighter in his steps when going like that, and to a large extent he was; He'd left an elezen's weight in armor and equipment back in the room and chose to make his way in just his clothes as he had years before. He felt leaner, too, though he suspected that was primarily just the lack of armor obfuscating his sense of self. He'd hoped it wasn't due to how little he'd been eating. He'd have to remember to wear bulkier clothing in the evenings, when a chance meeting was possible.
He'd stopped at the Scorpion's Crossing shortly after sun-up to see the hustle and bustle of the tradepost. There was something refreshing about seeing the day breaking over honest work that soothed the soul. It was there he'd intended to pick up something of a breakfast and make his way back to the city walls but he was stopped by a bearded and tanned elderly gentleman's plea to the public.
"Isn't there anyone who will help an old man?" He looked aged but not infirm. Humble, loose clothing adorned him and seemed every bit the outcast to the hard-bodied working folk plying their trades and loading their cargo for the day. Some paid the man some mind, turning him down and gesturing to the stack of boxes that awaited processing. Others ignored him entirely.
"What's the trouble?" Warren felt his heartstrings tug as the old man's eyes lit up in gratitude and excitement. He turned his attention at once the the highlander, walking and half-hobbling towards him.
"He was here when I bedded down for the night, but it's Oschon! Oschon's gone off! Kidnapped! Or maybe just out for a snack before breakfast..." The man's eyes darted here and there, looking off towards lodging at first, then towards the fields. Warren held up a large hand, trying to halt the man.
"Wait. Oschon?" He raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was a joke. He looked about to see the reactions of the passersby, trying to discern if he was being made a fool of.
"Yes, yes. Oschon! My prized aldgoat. We're coming back from the Silver Bazaar on a, uh, business proposition, y'see. He's a wonderful specimen, something to behold. Strong, radiant. Sturdy beast. Sometimes the other farmers need a little, uh..." He nudged Warren with an elbow and clicked his tongue twice. Eyebrows raised suggestively and Warren shook his head.
"I get it, I get it." He pondered this for a moment. "Your aldgoat walked off while you slept? An aldgoat named Oschon. Wandered off on you." He still didn't quite believe it, though the folks around him tipped off nothing if it was in fact a jest.
"That's right. Guess I asked for that myself, huh? The name fits, though. When he was a calf he'd wind up all over the place. My land, my neighbor's land, you name it. Can't keep a rein on the fella. I had him tied up for the night and everything, but he just won't stay put! S'fitting, I tell you." There was a sincerity to the old man's story, though Warren still felt he was being taken for a ride. Regardless, he didn't have anything else to do with his day...
"Alright. I suppose I can lend a hand for you. Where do you think he got off to? Maybe back to the bazaar, if there's some women around for him? Maybe he got lovesick." Warren smiled bittersweetly.
"Ayuh, that's a chance I guess. Probably not, though. He likes going forward, not back. I figure he's somewhere north of here. Or east. Northeast, maybe? Definitely not west, though. Likely not." The old man pointed as he spoke, though his directions didn't match his finger.
"How am I gonna know which one's yours? There's wild goats all over these flatlands, you know." Warren crossed his arms.
"Oh, you'll know." The old man grinned and presented a satchel. "Here. Apples from the frozen hills. His favorite. Hoping he didn't cut that-away for some. Shoulda known I'd have some for him, the old fool. I'll wait here for you, just in case he wanders back. Never does, though."
It was with this that Warren found himself wandering north, or maybe east, but definitely not west, probably, chasing after Oschon. He was a bell past the Crossing's limits when he realized he hadn't bothered to get breakfast. The pack of apples on his back didn't weigh him down physically but the idea danced across his mind.
I'll find the goat first, then I'll maybe have one. They're not for me, and you'd think I'd know better than to take an offering for one of the Twelve. Aldgoat or not.
The old man's story amused him. He kept an eye out for any other backpacked travelers looking for a special pack beast as he went, but the land was devoid of most any except the early morning caravans. A pang of homesickness spoke up in his chest, taking brief residence beside the other in his heart before he forced his attention back to the task at hand. He was familiar with the lands around the city well enough and sought first north to the bridge connecting the Crossing's road with Horizon's. The sun hadn't yet begun to beat down in earnest as he ignored the dry tickle in his throat. The thought of that stream was refreshing to him, and he was a man. Surely an aldgoat would think the same. He counted his blessings when the clouds blocked the sky, even if they looked somewhat ominous. The heat never seemed to care, but it seemed easier to manage without the full bright of the sun watching over you.
He felt lighter in his steps when going like that, and to a large extent he was; He'd left an elezen's weight in armor and equipment back in the room and chose to make his way in just his clothes as he had years before. He felt leaner, too, though he suspected that was primarily just the lack of armor obfuscating his sense of self. He'd hoped it wasn't due to how little he'd been eating. He'd have to remember to wear bulkier clothing in the evenings, when a chance meeting was possible.
He'd stopped at the Scorpion's Crossing shortly after sun-up to see the hustle and bustle of the tradepost. There was something refreshing about seeing the day breaking over honest work that soothed the soul. It was there he'd intended to pick up something of a breakfast and make his way back to the city walls but he was stopped by a bearded and tanned elderly gentleman's plea to the public.
"Isn't there anyone who will help an old man?" He looked aged but not infirm. Humble, loose clothing adorned him and seemed every bit the outcast to the hard-bodied working folk plying their trades and loading their cargo for the day. Some paid the man some mind, turning him down and gesturing to the stack of boxes that awaited processing. Others ignored him entirely.
"What's the trouble?" Warren felt his heartstrings tug as the old man's eyes lit up in gratitude and excitement. He turned his attention at once the the highlander, walking and half-hobbling towards him.
"He was here when I bedded down for the night, but it's Oschon! Oschon's gone off! Kidnapped! Or maybe just out for a snack before breakfast..." The man's eyes darted here and there, looking off towards lodging at first, then towards the fields. Warren held up a large hand, trying to halt the man.
"Wait. Oschon?" He raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was a joke. He looked about to see the reactions of the passersby, trying to discern if he was being made a fool of.
"Yes, yes. Oschon! My prized aldgoat. We're coming back from the Silver Bazaar on a, uh, business proposition, y'see. He's a wonderful specimen, something to behold. Strong, radiant. Sturdy beast. Sometimes the other farmers need a little, uh..." He nudged Warren with an elbow and clicked his tongue twice. Eyebrows raised suggestively and Warren shook his head.
"I get it, I get it." He pondered this for a moment. "Your aldgoat walked off while you slept? An aldgoat named Oschon. Wandered off on you." He still didn't quite believe it, though the folks around him tipped off nothing if it was in fact a jest.
"That's right. Guess I asked for that myself, huh? The name fits, though. When he was a calf he'd wind up all over the place. My land, my neighbor's land, you name it. Can't keep a rein on the fella. I had him tied up for the night and everything, but he just won't stay put! S'fitting, I tell you." There was a sincerity to the old man's story, though Warren still felt he was being taken for a ride. Regardless, he didn't have anything else to do with his day...
"Alright. I suppose I can lend a hand for you. Where do you think he got off to? Maybe back to the bazaar, if there's some women around for him? Maybe he got lovesick." Warren smiled bittersweetly.
"Ayuh, that's a chance I guess. Probably not, though. He likes going forward, not back. I figure he's somewhere north of here. Or east. Northeast, maybe? Definitely not west, though. Likely not." The old man pointed as he spoke, though his directions didn't match his finger.
"How am I gonna know which one's yours? There's wild goats all over these flatlands, you know." Warren crossed his arms.
"Oh, you'll know." The old man grinned and presented a satchel. "Here. Apples from the frozen hills. His favorite. Hoping he didn't cut that-away for some. Shoulda known I'd have some for him, the old fool. I'll wait here for you, just in case he wanders back. Never does, though."
It was with this that Warren found himself wandering north, or maybe east, but definitely not west, probably, chasing after Oschon. He was a bell past the Crossing's limits when he realized he hadn't bothered to get breakfast. The pack of apples on his back didn't weigh him down physically but the idea danced across his mind.
I'll find the goat first, then I'll maybe have one. They're not for me, and you'd think I'd know better than to take an offering for one of the Twelve. Aldgoat or not.
The old man's story amused him. He kept an eye out for any other backpacked travelers looking for a special pack beast as he went, but the land was devoid of most any except the early morning caravans. A pang of homesickness spoke up in his chest, taking brief residence beside the other in his heart before he forced his attention back to the task at hand. He was familiar with the lands around the city well enough and sought first north to the bridge connecting the Crossing's road with Horizon's. The sun hadn't yet begun to beat down in earnest as he ignored the dry tickle in his throat. The thought of that stream was refreshing to him, and he was a man. Surely an aldgoat would think the same. He counted his blessings when the clouds blocked the sky, even if they looked somewhat ominous. The heat never seemed to care, but it seemed easier to manage without the full bright of the sun watching over you.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
