Allir Reach - Outside of Peddlefoot
Rain crashed down from the sky in great droves, casting onto roof tops, fields of hay, and onto the dirt roads which surrounded the tiny fishing village. Despite the lamplight still looming from some of the houses, taverns, and the few ships moored besides the dock; Peddlefoot was quiet.
The storm had sent most home early, and as the hours passed sleep came easily to most of the residents. They had no idea that just a few minutes away, in one of the very fields that fed them, a fight had run it's course. Two Dreadlords had met there, and through brief flashes of brutality one had met his end. He lay now, within the muck and mud, the hay around him crushed down and singed from his own magics. His breathing was shallow, the blood washing away from his wounds almost as quickly as his heart pulsed.
Over him stood his better, though a year ago no one would have called him such. "There's-"
A violent cough wracked his throat, his hands clamped upon his bruised and broken throat. His voice nothing less than a haggard rasp, desperate to be heard over the sound of rain.
"There's going to be more." He said, another cough echoing out, blood spilling from his lips. His eyes, half-lidded, focused upon the figure looming over him. A hatred that had already been expressed in a thousand different ways burning through his gaze. "You're fucked. Th-they just sent me on ahead. After what you did, they'll never stop hunting you."
"I know." Edric said, his voice cold steel. The massive burn upon his chest slowly wriggling as the skin began to heal. His eyes no more harrowed than they had ever been. "And I'll kill them too."
The Rogue Dreadlord raised his boot, and then smashed it into the other man's face.
"Guess we'll have to find another way back onto the boat." Edric said to his unseen companion, her amulet still hanging around her neck. He didn't know if she would hear him, or if even she would care, but whoever else this man had brought was likely back in Peddlefoot. The ship they had taken here was docked there, taking on supplies for the rest of their journey.
He'd have to be careful getting back.
Rain crashed down from the sky in great droves, casting onto roof tops, fields of hay, and onto the dirt roads which surrounded the tiny fishing village. Despite the lamplight still looming from some of the houses, taverns, and the few ships moored besides the dock; Peddlefoot was quiet.
The storm had sent most home early, and as the hours passed sleep came easily to most of the residents. They had no idea that just a few minutes away, in one of the very fields that fed them, a fight had run it's course. Two Dreadlords had met there, and through brief flashes of brutality one had met his end. He lay now, within the muck and mud, the hay around him crushed down and singed from his own magics. His breathing was shallow, the blood washing away from his wounds almost as quickly as his heart pulsed.
Over him stood his better, though a year ago no one would have called him such. "There's-"
A violent cough wracked his throat, his hands clamped upon his bruised and broken throat. His voice nothing less than a haggard rasp, desperate to be heard over the sound of rain.
"There's going to be more." He said, another cough echoing out, blood spilling from his lips. His eyes, half-lidded, focused upon the figure looming over him. A hatred that had already been expressed in a thousand different ways burning through his gaze. "You're fucked. Th-they just sent me on ahead. After what you did, they'll never stop hunting you."
"I know." Edric said, his voice cold steel. The massive burn upon his chest slowly wriggling as the skin began to heal. His eyes no more harrowed than they had ever been. "And I'll kill them too."
The Rogue Dreadlord raised his boot, and then smashed it into the other man's face.
"Guess we'll have to find another way back onto the boat." Edric said to his unseen companion, her amulet still hanging around her neck. He didn't know if she would hear him, or if even she would care, but whoever else this man had brought was likely back in Peddlefoot. The ship they had taken here was docked there, taking on supplies for the rest of their journey.
He'd have to be careful getting back.