Tenth Day of Winter, 517 A.V.
Quzon was starting to get used to the way the city worked. It was true that he was still relatively new, but after having been a man about town. Painting the town red with his inquires about anyone who seemed like they knew anything about the Tainted Shadows. The pale Myrian was still as motivated as ever to start a war with his new enemies. It was true that he'd hit a snag in combating the shadows, but that just meant he needed to find the right weapon for the job.
Quzon left his rented apartment at the Kuahala Estatet while dressed in the usual fashion befitting an Isur; meaning even as a half isur he wore nothing but a loincloth, a belt to hold his hand-ax, a backpack, and the tattoos covering his body. He was a proud warrior who worshiped Izurdin through bodybuilding, so did nothing to hide the result of his hard labors.
He was currently reading through the greeting scroll the city gave visitors upon entering, and found it to be the most useful item he'd been using ever since he decided to stay in Riverfall. "Where are you? I need to know what you know..." He thought as he scanned over the map for the cities Spiritist. Quzon stopped in his tracks once he noticed the High Spirits resided along the waterfront in the opposite direction he was heading.
Once he turned towards to correct location, he began to sprint off towards his destination. Quzon had not done any morning weightlifting or noon time combat exercises in lieu of this expedition. That was why he decided to force his body to suffer the strain of a high intensity run. Quzon kept himself at a half speed to avoid disrupting the people he ran around who were walking through the city. The less dense the people were,the more comfortable he became, and gradually started to increase his speed. His breathing became far more frenetic the faster he zoomed down the street until the burning sensation of fatigued radiated through his thighs.
He pushed through that discomfort and pain, knowing he might need to run for his life someday. The pain dulled whenever he took a deep breath which lead him to breath in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth at a controlled pace. The Myrian only wanted to sprint. He did not want to hold a consistent run and tire himself out. That meant he stopped once he was a few meters away from where he last started, looked around to gauge his surroundings on where to run next, caught his breath, and moved on.
It took him several chime until he found himself out of breath in front of the High Spirits.
"You feeble weaklings."
Quzon cursed silently in Isur, agitated that as his eyes lacked the ability to see the color of the store in front of him. He maintained and fixed his gaze on something whenever stuff like this happened, but the more he tried to focus himself, the more he ended up hating the Tainted Shadows. He turned around to look out towards the beach given he did not often visit the bay level.
The ocean looked like a shifting abyss of rolling obsidian, accented by glowing white in the absence of its ever shimmering blue color. It was both ominous, yet morbidly beautiful... And it was the first thing Quzon had witnessed that made him want to keep his vision if only for the moment. When he turned back around, Quzon did not need to see color to notice randomly cracked glass of the shops windows. Or the way they were coated in a thick layer of dirt and grime. It was an odd train that did not make him pause for long before he moved to enter the building.
Quzon left his rented apartment at the Kuahala Estatet while dressed in the usual fashion befitting an Isur; meaning even as a half isur he wore nothing but a loincloth, a belt to hold his hand-ax, a backpack, and the tattoos covering his body. He was a proud warrior who worshiped Izurdin through bodybuilding, so did nothing to hide the result of his hard labors.
He was currently reading through the greeting scroll the city gave visitors upon entering, and found it to be the most useful item he'd been using ever since he decided to stay in Riverfall. "Where are you? I need to know what you know..." He thought as he scanned over the map for the cities Spiritist. Quzon stopped in his tracks once he noticed the High Spirits resided along the waterfront in the opposite direction he was heading.
Once he turned towards to correct location, he began to sprint off towards his destination. Quzon had not done any morning weightlifting or noon time combat exercises in lieu of this expedition. That was why he decided to force his body to suffer the strain of a high intensity run. Quzon kept himself at a half speed to avoid disrupting the people he ran around who were walking through the city. The less dense the people were,the more comfortable he became, and gradually started to increase his speed. His breathing became far more frenetic the faster he zoomed down the street until the burning sensation of fatigued radiated through his thighs.
He pushed through that discomfort and pain, knowing he might need to run for his life someday. The pain dulled whenever he took a deep breath which lead him to breath in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth at a controlled pace. The Myrian only wanted to sprint. He did not want to hold a consistent run and tire himself out. That meant he stopped once he was a few meters away from where he last started, looked around to gauge his surroundings on where to run next, caught his breath, and moved on.
It took him several chime until he found himself out of breath in front of the High Spirits.
"You feeble weaklings."
Quzon cursed silently in Isur, agitated that as his eyes lacked the ability to see the color of the store in front of him. He maintained and fixed his gaze on something whenever stuff like this happened, but the more he tried to focus himself, the more he ended up hating the Tainted Shadows. He turned around to look out towards the beach given he did not often visit the bay level.
The ocean looked like a shifting abyss of rolling obsidian, accented by glowing white in the absence of its ever shimmering blue color. It was both ominous, yet morbidly beautiful... And it was the first thing Quzon had witnessed that made him want to keep his vision if only for the moment. When he turned back around, Quzon did not need to see color to notice randomly cracked glass of the shops windows. Or the way they were coated in a thick layer of dirt and grime. It was an odd train that did not make him pause for long before he moved to enter the building.
