Sellsword

[Arcisal]

The steady drip of water sounds across the shanty room like a ringing church bell while the unreliable flickering light of various candles enclosed in lanterns stained with unidentifiable muck hung from a ceiling which was poised to cave in upon itself, ending it's miserable existence. The room was not large, but fair enough to receive a good amount of customers. Enough to keep business going, not enough to stir or attract troublemakers. Today, however, was a slow day. Much of the business that happened occurred in the shroud of night, where many were simple looking for a warm room and good food. Anderom, the Innkeeper of the Hearty Gale, was a good man. Rough features chiseled his face with deep creases of unending age with deep blue eyes with an unwavering nor unflinching resolve could pierce and read even the most reclusive. Graying hairs clearly streaked across a vast of black rough hair, tied into a ponytail that hung lazily upon his back. Broad shoulders, clearly shown to have seen mud and blood from a particularly nasty wound, a gash that ran down his forearm. A tattoo of a finely decorated sword and a ship emblazoned his left bicep for all to see. He had nothing to hide.

Anderom continued to wipe a mug. Despite being a rickety place, many would come during peak hours just for the ale, while even more came to see the old innkeeper himself, for one reason or another. Today, he had only one customer. Purposefully seated in a dank corner to avoid the light that was cast from old windows, a hooded man. Anderom had not seen him before. Not even in Tarian. His assumption was that he was a bad merchant, running away from his debts and staying low and away from curious eyes and ears. The old man generally stayed away from these people. They were known, from rumors and experience that they attracted trouble. Nevertheless, his inn was an abode for all. A quiet corner in the deepest of Tarians sprawling streets, away from the bustling and business of the rest of the city.

The cloaked man suddenly stood up, attracting the emotionless gaze of Anderom. Striding slowly towards the bar, he took a seat an arms length away from the innkeeper and removed his hood. Anderom's unwavering stare now showed a slight display of emotion, one of simple surprise. A smile grew upon the old man's face as a placed his mug softly upon the wooden surface and said "It's about time you came."

"I always keep my end of the bargain" was the reply from a delicate face. The face was too human to be elvish, but somehow had an aura of absolute craftmanship, being too detailed for sluggish humans. "What news do you have for me old friend?"

"Plenty." Anderom replied, the smile never leaving his aged features. "The East speaks of doom while the West talks of salvation. I hadn't recognized you."

"Reasearean? Since when did you ever learn to speak like brutes?" the ef-human replied.

"They were never brutes. It is in the most delicate and reclusive of places where the best reside." Anderom replied with a slight underlain tone of pride. "However," lowering his voice as if there were hidden ears round him "there certainly is speak of ill. The Astraisns are not yielding to Heracroft's demands. It seems that war looms just over the horizon. Peace acts among the plainstribes have failed long enough. I fear that another of Kilter's purging might come to bloom during these times."

The lone customer looked down. His eyes deep in thought and he replied "And of Yenda? What news have you heard from him?"

Anderom shook his head slowly but with a solemn look. "It has been seven months since we first accomplished what others could not. The people need a beacon, and soon. If Yenda is not the one then we must continue to look for it."

"I understand." replied the man with a tone of slight remorse. "It's just that never have I seen anyone like him. If only we hadn't brought him to Tar'kas. The experience shattered him."

"Imminent. Serazar was tracking us like a hound upon it's game. It was only a matter of time." replied the old man.

At that instance, the door swung open. The full force of the sun's heat and light flooded the room, the silhouette of a man only the be revealed. This new customer, or customers as another young man followed upon his heels, walked with a soldier's resolve. Almost instantly the door had opened, Anderom's conversational partner drew his hood and slowly walked back towards the table, leaving some copper for his ale.

Anderom, after clearing his eyes from the sudden exposure of light, turned to see his new guests. His deep eyes met his new customer's face and in effect, another wide grin, possibly too alien for the old man's usually calm composed face, met to greet the figures in front of him. His gesture was replied in kind and a familiar old voice spoke calmly, "Well met, old friend."

"Thareon!" said Anderom with a hearty voice. "How long has it been?".

"Long enough." replied the customer. Standing in front of Anderom just an inch shorter, stood a man as old but at the same time younger than the innkeeper himself. Greying hairs stood out for all to see, unhidden and unashamed to be displayed. Muscular arms clad in tried leather bore scars of old and unfathomable times, each with a story of it's own. A long face with the same calm keen expression, with dark green eyes like that of a hawk's and a short unshaven prickly beard stuck out from his chin, growing around his mouth. A skilled craft of dark ink was found on the side of his right shoulder, the exact replica of Androm's. On his torso, an old unpolished braestplate which can seen many a battle hung with it's face adorned with a tabard of a sort of crest; a blue and yellow raven upon a shield. Hanging lazily from his hip, a keen sharpened longsword with lavish insets of runes, entrenched inside the engravings by the blood of it's foes.

"It is indeed good to see you again. Where are the rest?" said the innkeeper

"Out. I just stopped by to see you again. It is good to the an old friend. Glad to find you haven't gotten yourself killed."

"Nostalgic. After all these years." said the innkeeper with a heavy sigh of contentment. "It seems your travels have brought you to the likes of Tarian? Still traversing the Garron Hillsides? Or have you ventured out into the darker wilds?"

"Still the same. It's enough to be moving about constantly. I think this region alone has enough to keep one occupied, if one looked hard enough." replied Thareon. He stood leaning his chest against his arms folded upon the bar top. He shot a quick glance at the lone customer, his eyebrows poised in curiosity.

"A friend." replied Anderom with a low voice. "Now, tell me. What have you come here for? It is unlikely that you come for the sake of visiting and old peer."

Hesitating for a moment before finally giving a quick glance at the unknown figure, Thareon lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Valthalaas."

Anderom gave him a curious look, his eyes reflecting a slight strain of worry and at the same time excitement. "What about?" said the old man with a slight undertone that reflected his expression.

"Just two months ago, our journeys nearly took us to the outskirts of the hillsides. But our course was diverged when our hunt took a steep turn." said Thareon.

"Hunt? For what?"

"A local warlord. His own men turned the tables upon their master. Seeking to rid their cruel leader and live a life of independent criminals. Different, certainly. But nothing that surprised us." said Thareon. "We had wanted to find this warlord. It seemed that the more we tracked him down, the more elusive he was. His trail led us the the edge of Gandarur."

"Gandarur. Did you see the keep itself?" asked Anderom.

"No, but we had a good view of it. Deserted. A waste. But, a surprise hit us. Apparently our desperate leader had turned around. It seemed that our trek to the margin was wasted."

"Headed where?" replied the innkeeper. His eyes were deep in thought, with one hand stroking his chin as he thought where the situation was going.

"We don't know for sure, but our best bet right now is the Aerorigus Heartlands or the White Downs. Somewhere along those lines." said Thareon.

"Aerorigus and the White Downs. Those are fairly wide ranges you have." mused Anderom. "And what does Valthalaas have to do with this?"

"We have seen signs of his return. A fork in the road were we ambushed and attacked by what we thought were shadow men. Our trail was lost but soon recovered, only to find multiple trails heading in different directions, hence the wide range. I fear that something may be tracking us as well as we found our prey."

Anderom stared into the distance for awhile. He shot a rapid glance at his lone customer, he was still siting along, now apparently counting his coins. "Who is this warlord?"

"Nothing much. From my experience, a Galvaneese deserter making himself known around these parts." said Thareon.