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The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter Six
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<blockquote data-quote="daindarkspring" data-source="post: 7431231" data-attributes="member: 6939181"><p><strong>Dain - The Afterparty</strong></p><p></p><p>Reaching into the clay basin, Dain splashed another handful of water on his face, washing off the last bits of soap from where he had shaved. Looking up, he took a moment to stare at his face in the burnished bronze plate that served as a mirror in his small room behind the Apothecary Shoppe. His hair was trimmed, though still long, and his goatee and beard had been cleaned up. The image that stared back at him was a man with a name that he had not been born with, a man with only fragmented images of a life before awaking in Kalair. </p><p></p><p>Dain Darkspring.</p><p></p><p><em>A dark spring indeed, that I sprung from. Oh, Essithea...who am I and why am I here?</em></p><p></p><p>He grimaced at himself, and then grinned. "You're here to save the world. Or help end it. So no pressure there, eh?"</p><p></p><p>He wondered how the others had spent their night back from the mines. Had Jeovanna drowned herself in ale and frightened the patrons with Gnollish war-songs? Did Carthum spend the night kneeling at the shrine of Suru? Were Metea and Otiroth waking up in each other's arms...and tail?</p><p></p><p><em>Arse. That's an image to forget!</em></p><p></p><p>What about Annit? Dain had gone back and forth over whether to seek the rogue out. There seemed to be something unfinished between them. Or at least, he thought so. The idea that she might be oblivious to the fact, or in the arms of some lover, or in counsel with her father, had stopped him. Now he wished it hadn't.</p><p></p><p><em>You could very well die on this journey, you fool. And you may be dying a virgin...</em> He looked at himself again in the bronze plate and then shook his head. <em>...No, definitely not a virgin.</em> </p><p></p><p>He had dreamed of Annit the night before, and of Essithea. Twisting bodies, mingling voices. He was probably mad. </p><p></p><p>Turning, he surveyed the gear arrayed on his sleeping pallet. His request for some stronger leather armor and a shield had been granted. The armor was dark brown, and studded with black plates. The shield was circular and of moderate size, with a black iron boss. Dain himself had stayed up late painting a twisting black tree on its leather-covered surface, reminiscent of the image that had been graven upon his sword. At the bottom of the tree was a wavy black line, representative of a dark pool of water. The darkspring from which he had emerged into Kalair.</p><p></p><p>There were other things as well, all necessary for a long overland trek. But not so much that it would slow him down. </p><p></p><p>He began getting dressed and getting packed. </p><p></p><p>The rest of his life was starting.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="daindarkspring, post: 7431231, member: 6939181"] [b]Dain - The Afterparty[/b] Reaching into the clay basin, Dain splashed another handful of water on his face, washing off the last bits of soap from where he had shaved. Looking up, he took a moment to stare at his face in the burnished bronze plate that served as a mirror in his small room behind the Apothecary Shoppe. His hair was trimmed, though still long, and his goatee and beard had been cleaned up. The image that stared back at him was a man with a name that he had not been born with, a man with only fragmented images of a life before awaking in Kalair. Dain Darkspring. [I]A dark spring indeed, that I sprung from. Oh, Essithea...who am I and why am I here?[/I] He grimaced at himself, and then grinned. "You're here to save the world. Or help end it. So no pressure there, eh?" He wondered how the others had spent their night back from the mines. Had Jeovanna drowned herself in ale and frightened the patrons with Gnollish war-songs? Did Carthum spend the night kneeling at the shrine of Suru? Were Metea and Otiroth waking up in each other's arms...and tail? [I]Arse. That's an image to forget![/I] What about Annit? Dain had gone back and forth over whether to seek the rogue out. There seemed to be something unfinished between them. Or at least, he thought so. The idea that she might be oblivious to the fact, or in the arms of some lover, or in counsel with her father, had stopped him. Now he wished it hadn't. [I]You could very well die on this journey, you fool. And you may be dying a virgin...[/I] He looked at himself again in the bronze plate and then shook his head. [I]...No, definitely not a virgin.[/I] He had dreamed of Annit the night before, and of Essithea. Twisting bodies, mingling voices. He was probably mad. Turning, he surveyed the gear arrayed on his sleeping pallet. His request for some stronger leather armor and a shield had been granted. The armor was dark brown, and studded with black plates. The shield was circular and of moderate size, with a black iron boss. Dain himself had stayed up late painting a twisting black tree on its leather-covered surface, reminiscent of the image that had been graven upon his sword. At the bottom of the tree was a wavy black line, representative of a dark pool of water. The darkspring from which he had emerged into Kalair. There were other things as well, all necessary for a long overland trek. But not so much that it would slow him down. He began getting dressed and getting packed. The rest of his life was starting. [/QUOTE]
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