A dark flowing figure could be seen maneuvering through the festivities. The torch light revealed the daily traffic had smoothly been replaced by plenty of mirth. Chanting, ringing, clopping filled everyone’s ears. Smoke, apparitions, and juggling filled the air. The square filled with charmers, merchants and shops that formed the general flow of traffic. A few guards were present as a precaution, this was a common event for the city. The cloaked figure felt as heavy here that he would outside in the Miasma. Yet the festival still presented allures and distractions of most any nature.
He was wrapped up tight enough to keep himself from brushing any traveller, or entertainer despite their efforts to gain his attention. Men with bejeweled hands revealed gadgets and trinkets for all to see. With their voices bellowing they announced how their specific artifact would produce miraculous and wondrous effect. All while women clutching dazzling rods or exotic creatures would lure any man willing to approach their scantily dressed or undressed figure. The man ignored the din, tailoring his ears to the conversations. He filtered everything, easily disregarded the goading of the traders and lure of the latest tales and gossip.
A silky feminine voice tried to charm him . The man sidestepped just as her slender hand reached out for his shoulder. He didn’t slow his pace, she pursued him and reached out a second time. The man shifted and grabbed her wrist and faced her.
“If I wanted your services, I would’ve requested it,” his words were clear and controlled.
The woman’s painted eyes were shocked. She tried to pull her hand back but couldn’t. He lingered to make his intentions clear then released her wrist. She pulled it to her chest and he turned his back and continued on his path.
If we want revenge we need a weapon that’ll bring our enemies to their knees
then swiftly remove their head
“Agreed…” he thought.
He thought about the sword that hung at his waist. Heavy clunking but it would get the job done. What he needed was something swift and deadly because the bigger they are the faster they’ll tire and he was certainly fast enough to last longer than any opponent she expected to face. Now he just needed a weapon to match that.
The memories he had seemed to recount daggers fondly and a man he could only imagine was his father. He would wait expectantly for the man to return and do his best to ambush him. But, who knows if those are even his own memories or another Praevus had planted. Even so the boy in his dreams is no more, and never seen what his eyes had witnessed.
The man slipped through the moving body of people keeping his focus. The people and their pets were becoming more bizarre. He couldn’t tell if one man was the pet or not as he quickly moved past. He could see across the bazaar from his vantage point on a walkway overhead. He immediately spotted a weapons trader showing off garish weapons most all of which he deemed all but useless in actual combat. Hoping there was something more useful than what was now hanging from his waist.
As he approached the caravan turned shop, the merchant lost complete interest in the pedestrians and eyed the mysterious man approaching. The trader sized the approaching stranger up. Anyone who was heading directly towards him was a valuable commodity, his mysterious air only added to his excitement.
He was a strong looking man who had been victim to the folly of too many women and too many forgetful nights of drinking, and who knows what else. Where his appeal as a sturdy healthy ox of a man had been, it was replaced with a gaunt face with sickly eyes and a bulbous stomach. His arms echoed of the strong strapping tools they once were, now mostly veins rippled them in an unhealthy manner like worms trying to eat their way out of his flesh. His hair was parted sparsely down the center and where it had not fallen out, was pulled back into a haggard knot.