Puddleink and LunarMirage
IndentIt was a mildly warm and inviting night, at least beside the small camp’s fire smoldering away. The fast of the day had been broken, and the twilight was fading away to night. All and all, it had been a mildly enjoyable day, all things considered.
IndentThe loss of men had been minimal, save for the ever fun public execution of some of his former lieutenants down in the Gosswallow Outpost. They had screwed up and allowed themselves to be caught via various detective methods, or just plain stupidity. Oh, he had visited them before their hanging. He had made a little sign that had said “ Good job, guys! -50DKP! “. A few had struggled in their bonds, some even managed to breach to the crowd before they were corralled and quickly disposed of. One man laughed, but he was his man who had the fun job of hanging those men publicly. One. Well, one out of thirty wasn’t bad, right? Then again, the one that laughed was the only one out of that mob that hadn’t been caught. Go figure the one that had successfully infiltrated the village survived to give his boss’s underlings the noose. Oh, irony.
Indent Still, not a half bad night and the night was still young. There was scouting that had to be done, and he needed a report of the eastern woods before any progress could be made on the less wild west. That explained why he was sitting there poking at the fire with a boyish grin on his face. It did not, however, explain why he who ruled vagabonds in the Freshya Woods to the borders of the Kerla Desert was sitting alone and in a clearing where he could possibly be sniped. That would really get the story nowhere. He was waiting for someone, though. Someone that he trusted enough to confide in a few plans of the future. And someone that he had smuggled in and out of the City and into the Castle many times to have them pick out shoes.
Indent Of all things, shoes. Why did females find shoes so wonderful? He would never know, and no one would ever. It was and always would be one of life’s great mysteries. Probably not as mysterious as the meaning of it all, or why toast was something that irrationally irritated him, or even why he did crazy things to begin with.
Indent Irrational little thoughts like that kept him occupied as he continued to prod and poke at the fire, kindling the flame back to a low light. The orange glow cast an eerie shadow over his bright red locks, and made his cold eyes stand out more blue. Those shadows did absolutely nothing for his smile, if not make it a bit more sinister than merry. But, that’s what shadows did. It was their job. And his? His was to wait for that report.
