Three shadows came to rest at the Crossroads, surveying the surroundings. It was good to be home; the stink of the West was familiar to them. Well, two of them, at any rate.
"Where do we go now?" The Foreigner asked, voice heavily accented. One of the figures let down his hood, revealing haphazard auburn hair and odd, mismatched eyes.
"We're going this way," He gestured down one of the roads, "If we wanted to, we could follow it all the way to the Elves...But we'll be at our destination long before that," Rapha was not particularly fond of elves. He didn't have a problem with them per se, but he found their belief in Farona to be detestable. Justice is blind, and they followed it blindly; one day they would fall into a hole made from their precious 'justice.' The less he had to do with their dying breed, the better.
"How long do you suppose it will take to get to Garamad?" Rapha asked the final cloak-bearer.
"A day or so. Less if we move swiftly," A young woman's voice replied. There was a slight pause, and then, "Try not to get into any fights too early, Rapha...No one wants to hire a wounded man," And I worry about you, Zanna thought, The darkness of your Gate is overpowering...it might be too much, even for you.
"Well, let's get a move on!" Three cloaked shadows flitted along the path, on their way to the City of Men. With blades on their backs, magic in their blood, and darkness in their hearts, what could their mysterious motivations be?
Tue May 31, 2011 2:35 pm
