Fall 1st 518
12th Bell
Yedra’s Fountain
It was rare for Anja to make his way into the underbelly of Sunberth without the attentive care of Maisa, but today when he had woken in the dim light in the early dawn, he had found the mare absent. Anja was not concerned. Maisa was, after all, spirited, intelligent, and free thinking. If he had to guess, he would say that the horse had wandered off to Kelski’s home to graze on the long grass that had been offered to the mare during their first meeting. Anja was finding his companion absent more and more, and the past couple of times he’d thought to look for her that was exactly where the man found her. She would come to no trouble at Kelski’s home, and the mare would find him when she was finished there. So Anja had proceeded into the city for breakfast, checked up on a few leads Jeb had given him for jobs (all of which proved to be dead leads, that is, with no undead whatsoever), and enjoyed a filling lunch.
His feet lead him in no direction in particular. He tended to avoid areas that the presence of death emanated heavily from, more for self preservation than for any actual fear. His steps seemed to lead him nowhere, and the man immersed himself in thought. There was something about the life that he was living now that felt listless. He had purpose; that was the gift that his goddess had given to him. Move on ghosts, slay undead. But that purpose in itself was a hollow thing. Where did it lead? The only light Anja could see at the end of the path was his own death. It was a strange thing to anticipate. He still had so much work to do before then, of course. But the path before him seemed so very long and so empty. Especially here, in a city as bleak as this. Could he have any purpose other than this? It was hard for the man to consider such a thing. But should he find that light, he knew he would be drawn to it like a moth to flame.
“Oy! You think you can screw with Ugly you mangey bastard!”
Anja was startled out of his contemplations by a high pitched shriek of rage. Anja blinked the depths of his thoughts away and took in his surroundings. The center of the area was dominated by a large fountain, crumbling with disuse. Under normal circumstances the object would have drawn Anja interest, but far more pressing was the group of young children forming a circle around something. They were flinging stones and shouting, their high pitched voices creating a cacophony of sound that was impossible to miss. Anja didn’t sense death, but he didn’t need to sense it to feel the thrum of conflict. Carefully, the spiritist moved closer.
The group of children had trapped a dog up against the side of a building. The beast was backed into a corner, brick pressed tightly against it’s back paws, and was bristling and showing the whites of its teeth. If it had lived life as the hunter dogs were treated in the Sea of Grass, it would have been beautiful. A life on the streets of Sunberth had destroyed it’s beauty. Its black and white fur was tattered and matted. Several of its teeth were missing, and one of its eyes was covered in scars and saw nothing. Ribs showed tight against the creature’s belly, and Anja could see a few wounds on it where thrown stones had hit their mark.
“Somebody grab it!” one of the boys shouted. “Let’s throw it in the fountain!”
The boy in question who shouted had a cat cradled in his arms. Anja could see blood on the cat’s leg and a mark in the shape of dog teeth. Despite the boy’s words and the clear authority in his shout, none of the children seemed particularly eager to get any closer to the snarling creature.
Anja wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of these boys drowning the poor creature. A brief flash of memory struck the man. His son, surrounded by a pack of dogs, playfully licking him while the boy giggled up a storm. Something in that memory spurred Anja to action before he knew what he was doing.
“Hardly seems worth the trouble,” he found himself saying. The children all turned on him in flash. Anja could see anger on the leader boy’s face, but as his eyes fell on Anja that flash of anger turned to a flicker of surprise and uncertainty. Anja wondered what he looked like to the boy. Eiyons inspired mystery at a glance. Regardless, the boy pushed past his uneasiness.
“That petcher tried to eat my cat!” he shouted.
The shout rolled over Anja like a wave breaking against a cliff. Calmly, he replied. “If you leave it to me, I’ll get it out of your hair. I don’t think you’d be able to grab it to do what you want anyways.”
The boy considered this, anger still tight in him. “You’ll get the dumb thing out of here?”
“Of course,” Anja replied.
The boy paused a long moment, then he nodded at the circle surrounding the dog. “Alright. If I see that petcher again though, I’m gonna slit its throat.”
“Understandable,” Anja replied. He moved through the break in the children and approached the dog.
The dog cringed and snarled at his approach. He halted, then bent down so he and the dog were at eye level. Then he reached into his pouch and pulled out a bit of rations. It was jerky; hard and tasteless. But it was food. Casually, he tossed the scrap of meat the dog’s way.
It stared at him for a long hard moment, then moved to sniff the meat. Then it turned and snarled at the boys.
12th Bell
Yedra’s Fountain
It was rare for Anja to make his way into the underbelly of Sunberth without the attentive care of Maisa, but today when he had woken in the dim light in the early dawn, he had found the mare absent. Anja was not concerned. Maisa was, after all, spirited, intelligent, and free thinking. If he had to guess, he would say that the horse had wandered off to Kelski’s home to graze on the long grass that had been offered to the mare during their first meeting. Anja was finding his companion absent more and more, and the past couple of times he’d thought to look for her that was exactly where the man found her. She would come to no trouble at Kelski’s home, and the mare would find him when she was finished there. So Anja had proceeded into the city for breakfast, checked up on a few leads Jeb had given him for jobs (all of which proved to be dead leads, that is, with no undead whatsoever), and enjoyed a filling lunch.
His feet lead him in no direction in particular. He tended to avoid areas that the presence of death emanated heavily from, more for self preservation than for any actual fear. His steps seemed to lead him nowhere, and the man immersed himself in thought. There was something about the life that he was living now that felt listless. He had purpose; that was the gift that his goddess had given to him. Move on ghosts, slay undead. But that purpose in itself was a hollow thing. Where did it lead? The only light Anja could see at the end of the path was his own death. It was a strange thing to anticipate. He still had so much work to do before then, of course. But the path before him seemed so very long and so empty. Especially here, in a city as bleak as this. Could he have any purpose other than this? It was hard for the man to consider such a thing. But should he find that light, he knew he would be drawn to it like a moth to flame.
“Oy! You think you can screw with Ugly you mangey bastard!”
Anja was startled out of his contemplations by a high pitched shriek of rage. Anja blinked the depths of his thoughts away and took in his surroundings. The center of the area was dominated by a large fountain, crumbling with disuse. Under normal circumstances the object would have drawn Anja interest, but far more pressing was the group of young children forming a circle around something. They were flinging stones and shouting, their high pitched voices creating a cacophony of sound that was impossible to miss. Anja didn’t sense death, but he didn’t need to sense it to feel the thrum of conflict. Carefully, the spiritist moved closer.
The group of children had trapped a dog up against the side of a building. The beast was backed into a corner, brick pressed tightly against it’s back paws, and was bristling and showing the whites of its teeth. If it had lived life as the hunter dogs were treated in the Sea of Grass, it would have been beautiful. A life on the streets of Sunberth had destroyed it’s beauty. Its black and white fur was tattered and matted. Several of its teeth were missing, and one of its eyes was covered in scars and saw nothing. Ribs showed tight against the creature’s belly, and Anja could see a few wounds on it where thrown stones had hit their mark.
“Somebody grab it!” one of the boys shouted. “Let’s throw it in the fountain!”
The boy in question who shouted had a cat cradled in his arms. Anja could see blood on the cat’s leg and a mark in the shape of dog teeth. Despite the boy’s words and the clear authority in his shout, none of the children seemed particularly eager to get any closer to the snarling creature.
Anja wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of these boys drowning the poor creature. A brief flash of memory struck the man. His son, surrounded by a pack of dogs, playfully licking him while the boy giggled up a storm. Something in that memory spurred Anja to action before he knew what he was doing.
“Hardly seems worth the trouble,” he found himself saying. The children all turned on him in flash. Anja could see anger on the leader boy’s face, but as his eyes fell on Anja that flash of anger turned to a flicker of surprise and uncertainty. Anja wondered what he looked like to the boy. Eiyons inspired mystery at a glance. Regardless, the boy pushed past his uneasiness.
“That petcher tried to eat my cat!” he shouted.
The shout rolled over Anja like a wave breaking against a cliff. Calmly, he replied. “If you leave it to me, I’ll get it out of your hair. I don’t think you’d be able to grab it to do what you want anyways.”
The boy considered this, anger still tight in him. “You’ll get the dumb thing out of here?”
“Of course,” Anja replied.
The boy paused a long moment, then he nodded at the circle surrounding the dog. “Alright. If I see that petcher again though, I’m gonna slit its throat.”
“Understandable,” Anja replied. He moved through the break in the children and approached the dog.
The dog cringed and snarled at his approach. He halted, then bent down so he and the dog were at eye level. Then he reached into his pouch and pulled out a bit of rations. It was jerky; hard and tasteless. But it was food. Casually, he tossed the scrap of meat the dog’s way.
It stared at him for a long hard moment, then moved to sniff the meat. Then it turned and snarled at the boys.
