Micosil
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In the dead of the night, the little village seemed deserted. People had learned that once the sun set, the night belonged to creatures who couldn't be called human. Normally the alchemist might be up as well, or perhaps the cleric, and you would see one or two people hurrying along with nervous looks to their sides, but this wasn't the case any longer, not after several sightings of shadowy creatures had shaken the whole village. A single light flared in the whole town, that of the local blacksmith's, probably working up till late.
The man that was watching this hidden in a forest atop a nearby hill smiled. He knew all too well that that precise village's blacksmith was overworked lately, what with the need for silver and cold iron weapons for all the hunters that were coming to deal with this unknown menace, as well as some odder metals. The hunters came in two flavours: the overeager youths who sought fame, glory and women, and the older men who just wanted their hard cash. The former would want to have fancy weapons to show off as proof of their prowess, and the latter would want to be ready to fight anything. The blacksmith's main source of income was the more unexperienced group of the two, since the others brought their own, battle tested gear.
These thoughts flew through the hidden watcher's mind as he contemplated the blacksmith's entrancing flame. For a couple of seconds he wondered whether it would be alright to get a bit closer, watch the young man struggle against the metal's natural stubbornness, finally overcoming it with the help of heat and his hammer, eventually turning a lump of iron into a fine sword, or a shield, or in peaceful times, some farming tool.
But his orders were clear. Watch. Do not get caught. Do not interfere. The orders weren't the ones he wanted to hear, but he could understand the reasons behind them, so for now, he watched.
A slight cracking of a branch made him snap back to the here and now, head turning sharply to the left, looking straight at the noise. A muffled curse and a short whispered conversation crossed the air to the silent watcher's ears:
"Will you stop making noise already?" murmured a man's deep voice.
"Oh, yeah, that's going to help much. If something was around and didn't hear me before, now he has." a younger voice replied, male as well, riddled with sarcasm.
"For the love of... look, just shut it and watch your step, alright?"
"This is dumb. Nothing would ever come to this village anyways. There's too many of us for them to risk it."
The older man didn't reply, and the night remained silent. After a few minutes, the watcher nodded to himself and made his way out, silently dodging all patrols in the area. Prowling around wasn't something he did often, but the guards weren't really paying attention to their surroundings, simplifying his task greatly.
Once he was out of the patrol radius, he started running. He felt the muscles tensing with unbridled power under his skin, each contact with the earth impulsing him forward, in a speed which few humans could attain and none could sustain as he did.
In such a manner he arrived to what looked like a large monastery made of creamy stone, the place he'd learned to call home lately. The mission was a success – he'd have to report in now, and then, it would be time to sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day. There was always something to do around here, he thought, smiling to himself.
< Message edited by Micosil -- 8/4/2010 15:08:28 >
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