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Altherion walks purposefully along the usually quiet path leading to Sestra, noting with some disappointment that the usual tranquillity has fled. In its place, the occasional sound of a hammer striking wood, or the deep voices of workers calling out to one another greets his soft footfalls. At the turning where the town itself becomes visible, he can’t help but be taken aback at the transformations in the formerly peaceful town. The afternoon sun casts long shadows from pickets of wickedly sharpened stakes, extending over a myriad of trenches and redoubts which seem intended to funnel enemies into choke points around the town’s defences.
The Elf shakes his head somewhat sadly at this ruination of Sestra’s once gentle aesthetics. As he enters the town itself, so immersed is he in his thoughts that he fails to notice the two warriors conversing near the gate. One of the pair, a soldier of the Corps greets the Elven traveller with a welcoming smile. A faint answering smile appears on Altherion’s face. “Good” he thinks to himself “despite the barricading of their home, and the imminent threat to their lives, these humans have not yet given in to such dark suspicions.”
After trading barbs with the surprisingly alluring white haired female soldier, who states unequivocally that she is not one of Corps, he proceeds to make enquiries about the town about accommodation. In the coming days, he can be seen frequently about the town, trading with passing merchants, enquiring at the mines about purchasing gems for his arcane studies, or simply frequenting the Rusty Tankard, where he will sit, and slowly sip his wine while examining a map or trade document.
If asked his purpose in Sestra, he replies with an easy smile that he is simply exploring trade opportunities. To those with a keen eye, however, there is a certain air of expectancy about him. His sword seems always at his waist, and his ears twitch on overhearing the slightest news of undead abominations.
The Elf shakes his head somewhat sadly at this ruination of Sestra’s once gentle aesthetics. As he enters the town itself, so immersed is he in his thoughts that he fails to notice the two warriors conversing near the gate. One of the pair, a soldier of the Corps greets the Elven traveller with a welcoming smile. A faint answering smile appears on Altherion’s face. “Good” he thinks to himself “despite the barricading of their home, and the imminent threat to their lives, these humans have not yet given in to such dark suspicions.”
After trading barbs with the surprisingly alluring white haired female soldier, who states unequivocally that she is not one of Corps, he proceeds to make enquiries about the town about accommodation. In the coming days, he can be seen frequently about the town, trading with passing merchants, enquiring at the mines about purchasing gems for his arcane studies, or simply frequenting the Rusty Tankard, where he will sit, and slowly sip his wine while examining a map or trade document.
If asked his purpose in Sestra, he replies with an easy smile that he is simply exploring trade opportunities. To those with a keen eye, however, there is a certain air of expectancy about him. His sword seems always at his waist, and his ears twitch on overhearing the slightest news of undead abominations.
