Aramil
04-29-06, 01:12 PM
((Closed to those in the OOC thread))
”And to think, a few days ago, I was there. Wondering across the Field of Khu’fein. The most renowned place of magic on Althanas. And now, just over the mountains, lays this dump?” Aramil thought to himself, waking up in the inn again. He had been in this run down town for a couple of days now.
The tavern was the only thing keeping this town running, as many adventurers traveled past this place, and often stopped in the at the tavern for a day of rest. It was his turn this time. He had rented this room for four days straight, and often asked himself why he was still here. The town itself was just large wooden houses, offering nothing, even to the lowest of thieves. The only road was made of dirt and stones, and the most luxurious place was also made out of wood, but it still looked new. The tavern was somewhere in the middle of town, separated from the rest to keep drunks safe.
Aramil wondered downstairs, the stairs creaking with every step, even though he had no armor on. He sat down at the bar, and ordered some breakfast. Some pancakes and bacon strips, along with a glass of water to wash it all down. The food was kind of rough, the pancakes were hard to cut and were often hard to chew through, Aramil had an easier time eating jerky. But it was the best they had to offer, and he took it just to satisfy his hunger.
The bar was relatively empty, most of the men off working. He didn’t know what they did while working, but, for some reason, during the day the town was empty of men, and the women wondered to street, mostly shopping.
After his breakfast, Aramil decided to go outside. A gust of wind came as soon as he did. Something not often felt in this kind of town, since the mountain blocked most weather and wind. The dirt kicked up in the streets made it hard for him to see for a few minutes, and as it cleared a few men in cloaks hurried past him. They were all heading towards the way he had come a few days ago, towards the Field of Khu’fein. He sighed, and wondered the opposite direction.
The town offered very little, and so, most of his day was spent window-shopping, and wondering up and the same street. Becoming quite bored, Aramil decided to head back to the bar, since most of the men should be back by now. The sun was setting, something Aramil didn’t notice, since his mind had become so clouded with thoughts to keep him busy most of the day.
Looking at the front of the tavern, he noticed something that he didn’t before. “Ghost Town Inn...” he read aloud, the name of the tavern where he was staying, “Some joke!” he said, as he pushed his way through the wooden door and into the bad.
The bar was empty still, and relatively slow. He sat at the bar, and ordered a drink. As it arrived a few seconds later, a few men ran through the door of the bar, happy and excited. “Come check this out, fireworks!” one man shouted out, as they all ran back out.
Aramil, needing something to do, was drawn in. He headed outside, and looked towards the direction the men were facing. In the darkening sky, flares of wild lights filled the sky. Many different colors and different sizes flickered through the sky. Some would explode when they reached certain heights; other kept going or died out.
Eventually, all the lights died out, until only one or two lights came every few minutes. The men, finding their fun ran out, headed into the bar. They all sat at their usual tables, and went on talking about what had happened. A few of them moaned when another gave an idea of what it was. Since no holidays were soon to come, many were afraid of what possibilities it could’ve been.
Over hearing some of the conversations on his way back upstairs, some were afraid that rumors of mystical creatures were true. Or how the bizarrely appearance of mages has led to destructive natures. Aramil was quite interested in it, and decided to check out what was really going on.
Quickly changing into his armor, and made sure he had everything he needed, and stared out the window for a minute. Just to see if an updates were being made on the field.
”And to think, a few days ago, I was there. Wondering across the Field of Khu’fein. The most renowned place of magic on Althanas. And now, just over the mountains, lays this dump?” Aramil thought to himself, waking up in the inn again. He had been in this run down town for a couple of days now.
The tavern was the only thing keeping this town running, as many adventurers traveled past this place, and often stopped in the at the tavern for a day of rest. It was his turn this time. He had rented this room for four days straight, and often asked himself why he was still here. The town itself was just large wooden houses, offering nothing, even to the lowest of thieves. The only road was made of dirt and stones, and the most luxurious place was also made out of wood, but it still looked new. The tavern was somewhere in the middle of town, separated from the rest to keep drunks safe.
Aramil wondered downstairs, the stairs creaking with every step, even though he had no armor on. He sat down at the bar, and ordered some breakfast. Some pancakes and bacon strips, along with a glass of water to wash it all down. The food was kind of rough, the pancakes were hard to cut and were often hard to chew through, Aramil had an easier time eating jerky. But it was the best they had to offer, and he took it just to satisfy his hunger.
The bar was relatively empty, most of the men off working. He didn’t know what they did while working, but, for some reason, during the day the town was empty of men, and the women wondered to street, mostly shopping.
After his breakfast, Aramil decided to go outside. A gust of wind came as soon as he did. Something not often felt in this kind of town, since the mountain blocked most weather and wind. The dirt kicked up in the streets made it hard for him to see for a few minutes, and as it cleared a few men in cloaks hurried past him. They were all heading towards the way he had come a few days ago, towards the Field of Khu’fein. He sighed, and wondered the opposite direction.
The town offered very little, and so, most of his day was spent window-shopping, and wondering up and the same street. Becoming quite bored, Aramil decided to head back to the bar, since most of the men should be back by now. The sun was setting, something Aramil didn’t notice, since his mind had become so clouded with thoughts to keep him busy most of the day.
Looking at the front of the tavern, he noticed something that he didn’t before. “Ghost Town Inn...” he read aloud, the name of the tavern where he was staying, “Some joke!” he said, as he pushed his way through the wooden door and into the bad.
The bar was empty still, and relatively slow. He sat at the bar, and ordered a drink. As it arrived a few seconds later, a few men ran through the door of the bar, happy and excited. “Come check this out, fireworks!” one man shouted out, as they all ran back out.
Aramil, needing something to do, was drawn in. He headed outside, and looked towards the direction the men were facing. In the darkening sky, flares of wild lights filled the sky. Many different colors and different sizes flickered through the sky. Some would explode when they reached certain heights; other kept going or died out.
Eventually, all the lights died out, until only one or two lights came every few minutes. The men, finding their fun ran out, headed into the bar. They all sat at their usual tables, and went on talking about what had happened. A few of them moaned when another gave an idea of what it was. Since no holidays were soon to come, many were afraid of what possibilities it could’ve been.
Over hearing some of the conversations on his way back upstairs, some were afraid that rumors of mystical creatures were true. Or how the bizarrely appearance of mages has led to destructive natures. Aramil was quite interested in it, and decided to check out what was really going on.
Quickly changing into his armor, and made sure he had everything he needed, and stared out the window for a minute. Just to see if an updates were being made on the field.