Thread: Pynti-Peldot

Vaemyr Name Nickname Vaemyr Vae Race Human Attire White and Gold Tunic, Cape and silver armor Weapon Sword Location Pynti-Peldot Tagging Everyone Time TA 3018, March 1, evening. Vaemyr studied the settlement as best he could. The ominously starless night sky did little to aid him and the moon only fell in patches on the ground looking so much like a silent beckoning guide in the suffocating dark. He let out a long suffering sigh. Whenever his gaze fell on one of the inhabitants he was met with wary suspicion and over the last few days more than a few held open hostility. They certainly were not a very happy lot. Then again, having endured this cursed winter for so long he imagined he himself wouldn't be overly happy either. He weaved his palfrey through the settlement with a deft hand and a natural ease that would have done credit to lords. The horse responded to the silent commands with a willing alacrity that hinted at the riders strength in some indefinable way. Vaemyr kept his watchful gaze focused on the area around him and kept one hand near his blade. One could never be certain of when an attack would happen, so he lived by the simple rule better safe than sorry. If it hadn't been for the fact that the sun had already sunk below the horizon he might have just continued to ride on northward. However, trying such a thing at night was foolish. This area was hazardous enough during the day, no telling what trouble he'd run into at night. So when the sun had begun to disappear he'd turned his horse to Pynti-Peldot in search of an inn. The wind whipped around him tugging at his shoulder length hair and the chill seeped through his armor and clothes. With a slight movement he pulled his warm cloak tighter around his large frame. He'd come to Forodwaith weeks earlier and had more or less been wandering from settlement to settlement getting a feel for the area and it's inhabitants. He was surprised to find so many people still living in the frozen wastelands. He wasn't sure why, if they were all so un-happy here, they didn't just pack up and leave? He'd attempted to find out but no one would willingly talk to him and few had even reacted in outright fear. He didn't much like what that signified. Something deep in his gut had confirmed that there was something very wrong going on in the lands of Forodwaith. He wasn't sure exactly how he could help them either. They certainly did not look like they were willing to help themselves and that he decided was a battle in and of itself. The people were not willing to act and help themselves and he very much doubted they would welcome an outsiders help. He shook his head and pushed those troubling thoughts aside. For now he needed an inn to spend the night in and something to ward off the chill that was clinging to his bones. His gaze swept over an old wooden sign and he could just make out the words Snowy Eagle Inn. Well, at least they had one. Turning his horse he headed over to the inn. He came to a halt outside of it and dismounted it with languid ease. On the ground he stretched his stiff body until several cracks and pops issued from the vicinity of his back, shoulders and legs. Satisfied he walked into the inviting or not so inviting depending on how you looked at it warmth of the Inn. Several people looked at him as he stood in the door-way and swept his gaze across those inside and he causally rested his hand familiarly against the hilt of his blade. Most of them averted their gaze. Satisfied he found an unoccupied table off to the side and sat down. And another night was going to be spent in the realm somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, with his sword tucked close to his body.