His Thoughts

[Lye]

As he spoke, I could not refrain from thinking about how unusual it was to lead off the conversation with the story of one's youth. Several unconscious men, some with lasting injuries, laid all around and he looked casually ignorant of the fact. It meant a few things: he was one of stained hands himself, or mad as a bag of Dur'Taigen. With a narrowing of my brow, I focused the details of my second sight to illuminate the secrets behind the man's mask. The features of his face were some I made a note to remember in detail. Secrets, after all, are only daggers to be used under their cloaks.

"You share a lot for someone with a mask," I replied with slight jest from beside Horse. His mention of a city ignored by the majority of common folk piqued my interest. Everywhere I seemed to go, someone knew me and better knew the bounty on my head. This was no different as was the chance some offer could also be a trap. Yet, this far south of the mainland, fewer people seemed to know of the man made notorious in the cold North. Besides, rumors of the tavern lingered on about some manner of new demon gate different from the others. How could I resist such a juicy detail? And should this...

"What is your name?" I asked of the man. Even if it were to be an alias, it would serve better than "sir" or "you".

...should this "you" try to lay claim on my head, I'd bury him like the rest. Maybe, just maybe, I'd be lucky enough to have someone finally rid me of it in a way I could find some peace. I scoffed to myself despite no joke. Peace for my painted past, please.

As I ruminated the hilarious notion of forgiveness and blissful eternal rest, I gathered a sense of another man of interesting aura. I beheld an elf of sorts, perhaps a half blood. With such light hair, it almost seemed as though fate's mirror showed me a younger version of myself. Minus the angular ears, of course.

"Okay?" I mused. "I doubt any of this will be okay."

As though I seemed to summon them on queue, the gruff and whiskey weathered bartender swept open the door-- or tried to. The body of one hefty ruffian stopped it from opening to full sight of the situation but enough to garner the gist of it all.

"Oi! What in the--" he began, cut short by the sight of myself, a masked fellow, and an elf. If there were a visual recipe for, 'maybe I should shut up and go back inside', that would be one of them.

"Carry on then. I'll uh... let these blokes nap it off." And the door shut. Shadows through the rough glass showed him gesturing to the inside tenants away from the glass. He likely told them some story of a simple scuffle or drunk idiots passing out. It was for the best.

"Hmmph, I should count myself lucky to be this far south." I blurted. This could have devolved into a scamper from royal guards or mage hunters-- not even an angry mob. Shame.

"Well, I'm certainly ready for a change of scenery." I added with a glance directly through the demon's mask.