Summer 45, 512 AV
The wind spoke secrets, whispered taboos only the damned could understand. It was the same wind that curled the alleys of Sunberth, caught the ear in conspiratorial passion and left the soul to wave in tattered silence. Shroud was their taskless master, listening to their promises of power and ambition. In the wake of his foiled smuggling, the Waveguard had been afforded more fame than he was ultimately comfortable with. Had he is own way, he would have taken care of the operation without involving the justice toting Waveguard. Unfortunately, necessity had demanded he do so when outnumbered.
The wound had since healed, leaving a ghostly scar where the blade had perforated his skin and robbed his body of its vitality. Since that night, the Hypnotist had chosen not to take action on his own. The risks outweighed the benefits currently and the family he’d crossed wasn’t the forgiving type. With his name heralded in connection with their defeat, it was only a matter of time till they made a move against him.
Splinter had kept him on patrol in the public areas. He was to avoid East street and working by night, at least until the worst of the enmity against him blew over. Personally, the simplicity of the job did nothing but bore the Waveguard. Nothing but high class men and women, the occasional sailor slinking in and out of his field of visions, often imagining themselves in fancy clothing or making a delivery.
As far as public service went, he might as well have not existed.
Three days he’d spent like this, longer still had he been given leave to serve with his injuries. Now, near the end of the day, skulking back to the barracks, Shroud was ready to gut a thief should it choose this as the day it would try to pickpocket a Waveguard.
Without incident, he returned. Skipper…or Splinter as he sometimes liked to be called, was waiting outside.
“Eventful day?”
“As Eventful as the sea is red.”
“Just as well then.”
“I can’t stand it.”
“I’m not asking you to stand it. I’m asking you to do it.”
“A hero is rewarded with the equivalent of being a paid statue. I took the blue to make a difference. You have me on the patrol you give newblood, fresh fish…or whatever you call them.”
Skipper frowned, running a calloused hand through his beard, “That how you feel, eh?”
“To the mark.”
Sighing, the Waveguard captain nodded and motioned Shroud to follow him. Both walked around to the area cleared behind the Waveguard headquarters where the men practiced. By the slanting light of the sun, evening was fast approaching. They’d have use of the training grounds for a few chimes, maybe upwards of a bell before it would be too dark to see.
“Yesterday, an agent in the Underground Brawler’s League showed up dead.”
The wind spoke secrets, whispered taboos only the damned could understand. It was the same wind that curled the alleys of Sunberth, caught the ear in conspiratorial passion and left the soul to wave in tattered silence. Shroud was their taskless master, listening to their promises of power and ambition. In the wake of his foiled smuggling, the Waveguard had been afforded more fame than he was ultimately comfortable with. Had he is own way, he would have taken care of the operation without involving the justice toting Waveguard. Unfortunately, necessity had demanded he do so when outnumbered.
The wound had since healed, leaving a ghostly scar where the blade had perforated his skin and robbed his body of its vitality. Since that night, the Hypnotist had chosen not to take action on his own. The risks outweighed the benefits currently and the family he’d crossed wasn’t the forgiving type. With his name heralded in connection with their defeat, it was only a matter of time till they made a move against him.
Splinter had kept him on patrol in the public areas. He was to avoid East street and working by night, at least until the worst of the enmity against him blew over. Personally, the simplicity of the job did nothing but bore the Waveguard. Nothing but high class men and women, the occasional sailor slinking in and out of his field of visions, often imagining themselves in fancy clothing or making a delivery.
As far as public service went, he might as well have not existed.
Three days he’d spent like this, longer still had he been given leave to serve with his injuries. Now, near the end of the day, skulking back to the barracks, Shroud was ready to gut a thief should it choose this as the day it would try to pickpocket a Waveguard.
Without incident, he returned. Skipper…or Splinter as he sometimes liked to be called, was waiting outside.
“Eventful day?”
“As Eventful as the sea is red.”
“Just as well then.”
“I can’t stand it.”
“I’m not asking you to stand it. I’m asking you to do it.”
“A hero is rewarded with the equivalent of being a paid statue. I took the blue to make a difference. You have me on the patrol you give newblood, fresh fish…or whatever you call them.”
Skipper frowned, running a calloused hand through his beard, “That how you feel, eh?”
“To the mark.”
Sighing, the Waveguard captain nodded and motioned Shroud to follow him. Both walked around to the area cleared behind the Waveguard headquarters where the men practiced. By the slanting light of the sun, evening was fast approaching. They’d have use of the training grounds for a few chimes, maybe upwards of a bell before it would be too dark to see.
“Yesterday, an agent in the Underground Brawler’s League showed up dead.”
