"I deserve to be dead." he said to himself, aloud.
Words, silky smooth and honey sweet, came so easily to the man when he was out among polite society. But as he sat upon the threadbare blankets of a broken bed, in a room that could be considered the pure definition of spartan, the man was all alone. He could lie to everyone else...but not himself. Not any more. "Gods damn it all! You're in your thirties, and you still haven't--"
He sighed, massaging the dips in his neck to deaden the clavicle notch nerve clusters. It was an exercise he had practiced since that monk had pinched him into submission several years ago. "Wonder whatever happened to that uppity bastard." He did wonder about some of those in Sundren he had met in the eight years since he first arrived. In between the trips abroad, that is...
He went through his work-out routine. Age meant that he had to work twice as hard to keep the weight off, and to ensure that every muscle responded as needed, when needed. Half a bell later, he was done; all heavy breathing. Unexpectedly, he cut a noisy fart. He groaned at that, another annoyance that came with age. At least he was alone in the room. Hopefully.
This place was safe. Of that, he was sure. It wouldn't do to have this sanctuary violated, as upper management would be seen as weak and ineffectual. A lot of the other skels stalking Sundren already thought that, after what happened to the encampment in the mountains of Aquor. Word on the street was anything outside of the city was free game.
Cazen smiled. Opportunity knocks.
He sat cross-legged on the broken bed, carefully reading the leather-bound volume he had been handed yesterday. The quiet man had selected well; but Cazen noticed things. He had acquired some fine vellum of his own, and sought to make notes, carefully sliding them in between the pages of the volume. Lessons he had learned in his less-than-legendary career; tricks of the trade that would help get the less careful ones by.
He resolved to handle any business he felt needed tidying by the end of today. Then, he would lock himself away for a couple of days and study the words written in the volume before him. And other related volumes, as well.
Words, silky smooth and honey sweet, came so easily to the man when he was out among polite society. But as he sat upon the threadbare blankets of a broken bed, in a room that could be considered the pure definition of spartan, the man was all alone. He could lie to everyone else...but not himself. Not any more. "Gods damn it all! You're in your thirties, and you still haven't--"
He sighed, massaging the dips in his neck to deaden the clavicle notch nerve clusters. It was an exercise he had practiced since that monk had pinched him into submission several years ago. "Wonder whatever happened to that uppity bastard." He did wonder about some of those in Sundren he had met in the eight years since he first arrived. In between the trips abroad, that is...
He went through his work-out routine. Age meant that he had to work twice as hard to keep the weight off, and to ensure that every muscle responded as needed, when needed. Half a bell later, he was done; all heavy breathing. Unexpectedly, he cut a noisy fart. He groaned at that, another annoyance that came with age. At least he was alone in the room. Hopefully.
This place was safe. Of that, he was sure. It wouldn't do to have this sanctuary violated, as upper management would be seen as weak and ineffectual. A lot of the other skels stalking Sundren already thought that, after what happened to the encampment in the mountains of Aquor. Word on the street was anything outside of the city was free game.
Cazen smiled. Opportunity knocks.
He sat cross-legged on the broken bed, carefully reading the leather-bound volume he had been handed yesterday. The quiet man had selected well; but Cazen noticed things. He had acquired some fine vellum of his own, and sought to make notes, carefully sliding them in between the pages of the volume. Lessons he had learned in his less-than-legendary career; tricks of the trade that would help get the less careful ones by.
He resolved to handle any business he felt needed tidying by the end of today. Then, he would lock himself away for a couple of days and study the words written in the volume before him. And other related volumes, as well.
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