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The first rays of morningtide sunlight peeked from behind the wispy thin clouds along the horizon. Overcome by the sun, the dense fog slowly peeled away from the landscape to reveal a think blanket of frost that glistened in the trees and on the ground like millions of tiny prisms. Microscopic ice flakes danced lazily on imperceptible currents of air and settled like dust on anything not moving, or, not yet moving. The sleeping figure flinched. Strange dreams of bright lights, odd buildings, and curiously busy people filled his head. What was he doing there? That world seemed so strange, so busy, and so cold. Yet, he appeared to belong there. He felt confined, he felt limited, he felt like…like someone was tickling his neck! He swatted his neck where the frost had melted and trickled down under his chin. He groaned, rolled over and heard something crunch in the pouch he was using as a pillow. The smell of freshly crushed hyssop filled the air. “Fabulous,” he mumbled under his breath, “Your snooze has consumed the following components…”
Ah yes, the joy of morning.
Huanto Shi’an Maul stood and pulled his ursuin-hide blanket up to his chin, sending a storm of frost flying from the thick fur. He scooped up his green mug and turned towards the river, tripping over the matty coat he used to keep his feet warm and nearly falling on his face. He stiffly shuffled to the river trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. The ice broke easily this morning as his mug dipped into the river. He downed the cold drink, and his thoughts began to clear, but he was still having a difficult time remembering where, exactly, he was.
“That’s not it,” he said, stuffing a trade note back into his pack. “I could have sworn it was in here.” After a few more moments of rummaging, he finally fished out his map. After puzzling over it a moment or two, his face lit up, “Oh yeah, Qalaba’r!” Huanto shoved the map back in his pack along with his blanket. His one-man camp was now dismantled and on his back as he set off to work the sleep out of his bones. He felt stiff and sore, like he had slept for weeks. He took advantage of the long walk into town by searching for, and rearranging items in his pack. He was shocked at the disarray; he couldn’t even remember where his life magic wand was. “That’s not the right order of things I’m sure,” he mumbled “but it will do for now.” Just then a thought occurred to him that made him stop and look around. He hadn’t passed a single person on the way to town, and he had not seen anyone hunting along the roadside. “I didn’t know there were that few new warriors.” He scratched his head, then continued on into town. Unlike the roadside, Qalaba’r was a madhouse. He didn’t like coming into town, but his makeshift pillow was conspicuously lacking in hyssop, so he needed to endure the experience. The noise level was incredible. People were yelling across town about what treasures they had to trade, over-zealous warriors shouting for portals to The Abandoned Mines or Fort Tethana, and beggars. Every town had its beggars and they all seemed to flock to Huanto, even as he stood at the mage shop. “Do you have any money I can have?” At least that is what Huanto interpreted the slurred and broken question to be. “I hear that drudge slinkers often carry a few pyreals with them.” The archmage chuckled at Huanto’s not so thinly veiled-hint. “I don’t have a weapon,” again, loosely interpreted. Huanto quietly handed the stranger a few hundred pyreals. Just as expected, the beggar ran off without a word of thanks. “Don’t you want some hyssop too?” Huanto chuckled as he completed his transaction.
Walking back through town Huanto noticed a familiar looking beggar asking another traveler for money. He just shook his head and marveled at the audacity. “Have you got any motes?” Huanto was getting good at interpreting. He turned and was surprised to see a fairly seasoned warrior asking the question. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry,” he replied, feeling four pyreal nuggets burning a hole in his pack. “I’m trying to get an atlan, I only have 3 left to get!” Huanto assessed the warrior and suggested some appropriately comparable monsters, “Mud golems carry motes a little more often than water golems. You might want hunt close to the beach.” “Golems carry motes?” Huanto looked at him strangely and wondered how he had managed to obtain any motes at all. “Um…yes, always have. I got my first mote off of a mud golem on the night of the Mayoi Shadow Invasion” “Shadow Invasion?” the stranger looked at him as if he were crazy, “What was that?” Huanto’s jaw dropped open and he stared blankly for a moment. “Uh…just a battle I was in…it was a long time ago” he muttered, “Never mind, hunt safe.” He turned and walked away, still in shock. It was the kind of moment that no one wishes to have. His day had come. Huanto sat at a table in a dark corner of the bar wasting the day away. Things were making sense now. The disorganized and missing items in his pack, his seemingly constant need for sleep, the sore bones and muscles. Not to mention the I-remember-when feeling that was popping up more and more often. “I guess its all downhill from here,” he muttered into his mug before downing the last few drops of his drink. He wasn’t as war-torn and toughened as some of the Paladins of Ishamael Creed, but there was no escaping it. He was old. “Cheers to the old-timers!” he scoffed, loudly smacking his mug down on the table. A few of the regulars at the bar glanced up from their conversations as Huanto dropped a few pyreals on the table and shuffled out the door. “What was that all about?” The bartender shrugged, “I didn’t pay attention.”
The fresh clean air outside of town was just what Huanto needed. It was helping him forget the epiphany he had experienced earlier that morning. He had spent more time in town then he had planned and was rather surprised at his total waste of the day. The setting sun glinted off of his silver nekode and frightened a small black rabbit into the bushes. He chuckled to himself, “I remember when all I could hunt was rabbits, I’d have to…” he stopped himself in mid-thought. “Bah!” he said aloud. “Not again.” “Hello there!” a voice called out. “Hail fellow traveler” Huanto replied as he approached. The young stranger marveled at the obviously seasoned warrior, admiring his perfectly matching black platemail.
“Right over that hill” Dyan said pointing to a pack of seven mosswarts. “I see! Biting off a bit more than you can chew eh Dyan?” Huanto teased, “Stay right here, we’ll get your stuff back in a flash.” In a quick stride or two, and no more than a few flashes of a flaming nekode, the youngster’s formerly impossible obstacle was transformed into a pile of smoldering corpses. Dyan’s jaw dropped open. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he said as he picked up his equipment.
“Lets see if we can get you better protected” Huanto said as he checked his spellbook to remind him of the correct words to chant. He readied his wand and quickly prepared the spell.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Huanto exclaimed. Huanto changed the subject abruptly and handed a 5,000 pyreal note to Dyan. “Don’t spend that all at the bar now,” he chuckled. “Best of luck to you.” “I can’t thank you enough kind sir,” he replied. “I have heard many tales of the honor of the Paladin King Ishamael and his followers. One day I may seek to join your legions.” Huanto smiled, “There is always room for one more in the family.” The young warrior saluted, “Farewell, and thank you.” Huanto readied his portal recall spell. “Safe travels. Shuruv Thiloi.” He observed his new acquaintance through the swirls of purple light and felt proud to be a Paladin. Dyan watched with admiration as the warrior disappeared into a sea of purple vapor. Darkness was falling as Huanto made his way to town. It would be nearing the peak of the town’s night scene. There was only one thing Huanto disliked more than going into town, and that was going into town at night. He decided to shop later and stopped in a small clearing, unrolling his ursuin blanket. He flopped down and pulled off his sweaty helm. Running his fingers through his tousled hair, he realized how tired he was. “Not like I did much today” he said aloud. He hadn’t even seen any friends; the day seemed to go by much faster with friends around. Although, days spent with friends were occurring less and less. He grimaced as he pulled off his gold sollerets, “I swear those things get heavier every day,” he said as he massaged his sore feet. He thought about the places those sollerets had been, how far they had traveled, even just recently, all the way up in the mountains near The Crater. His heart plummeted, that was the last time he had seen Hamanu. He seemed perfectly fine at the time, quite healthy. Then he was gone. Many people had taken it hard, he seemed like he had a long life ahead of him yet. At least everyone had been able to say goodbye to a few of the others. There were many that he once knew that were now gone. The river of time is never kind, and he felt the wear of its currents on his soul. A weariness that only age can cause.
Huanto wiped his eyes and laid his head back as he stretched his weary legs. He looked up at the stars. It was a clear night, it would be cold. He pulled his blanket up to his chin as his thoughts shifted to friends still with him. He had not seen Karnak in a long time, too long. He would need to meet up with him for a hunting trip, or just to talk. The tired warrior’s eyes grew heavy and his mind began to fog over. He had heard the other day that General Cerebus had finally proposed to Lady Miette. He was happy for them. He would have to get a message to them, perhaps a gift…he smiled slightly…yes that would be good.
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