Thread: Course of Ruin (Xanaphia & Absin)

It was half past twelve around the time that an armored figured emerged from the pale darkness of this moonlit night, accompanied by naught but himself and his thoughts. Baleful yellow eyes flickered behind a shag of black hair that would have covered more of his face had he let it grow any long around the front. Most of his visage was obscured by the bulky armor that clanked with each step, his gait steady despite the tremendous wait that it must have added to him. A call had gone out, reaching the ears of even the most reclusive of Sorcerers, Warriors, and even some Undead as evidenced by the pale man striding towards the busiest pub in the small town. The Lustrate had posted up a job to hunt a veritable legend of an Archfiend, said to have felled the Sanctum Draconis --The massive library that now laid on it's side for all to see in the deserts-- and was said to have escaped the Mistress of Halecroft herself, the most terrifying and respected Witch to exist in ages. It seems some explorers had discovered a trail that seemed to belong to the beast, and had immediately retreated to let those whose job this was to deal with it. It had garnered quite a bit of interest, certainly, but many knew that a legend like this couldn't be felled by someone who was only 'good'. To combat a creature like this, you needed other legends, or a small army of people who were veritably flawless. The man with yellow eyes opened the door to the bar, the sound of excited chattering, clinking dishes and laughter washed over him as he stepped in and made his way towards a back booth where a small group of men and women had occupied a booth and filled it with bodies. He stole a chair from a nearby table and sat upon it, simply sitting silently as he watched them talk amongst themselves. I still say this thing cannot be real a young man with maroon eyes was arguing with a young woman with firey red hair Everyone knows that myth is just that, a myth! The tower was simply too tall, the wards built into it's construction were too weak to last and hold it up, it came tumbling down. It makes for a pretty bed time story about how the great tower was felled by a mighty beast, but in the end that is all that it is, a story! The woman beside him, cloaked and hooded as she was, still had curly red hair poking out from the darkness of the head covering as she spoke in a heavily accented voice, clearly from the Eastern Coasts An' I'm tellin' ye, boy, that this thing is real. The Mistress o' Halecraft, y'know, that Witch who's been alive longer'n even thet necramanceh Jaaskin, corroborated it herself b'ahy! The young man rolled his eyes and retorted with Oh please, like that old blow hard would not cover her own mistakes with some fakey fake legend about a monster knocking the tower down instead of admitting that she had messed up somehow... The yellow eyed man listened interestedly, only pausing to lay a hand on a nearby waitress for her attention. A pint of ale, and perhaps something to eat. Surprise me He spoke and his voice was gravelly from the thirst he felt, but there was still some charm to it as he grinned up at her. She immediately toddled off to retrieve his order as his attention turned back to the bickering Sorcerer's, one of whom eyed him suspiciously.