Back in Stormwind yet again, Keshiniri quickly conducted her business at the bank, enduring the strange looks as she carefully stashed in the vaults a broken doll, tarnished necklace, and dirt-encrusted pipe. Then she retreated to the relative anonymity of the busy streets. She had recently taken to the practice of changing from her distinctive armor before ever entering a city so as to be less obvious, less of a target. But the bank employees knew her status as death knight, former minion of the Lich King, and they granted her only the most minimal of courtesies.
She paused outside the bank, trying to decide where to go next. The thought of returning already to her battles in the wilds seemed too much to address just then. Leaning against a pillar, she dropped her head in weariness…and noticed that she had forgotten to change from her armored boots. Fortunately, they barely showed beneath the simple, second-hand robe she wore. But, now that she was paying attention, they gave off a not-so-faint odor of marsh mud and rotting vegetation. Obviously, she had failed to completely clean the muck of Zangarmarsh from them when she had left that damp place. She sighed at the offending boots. Apparently finding a room to stay a night or two was in order. She could get cleaned up, maybe even sneak out to where she had left her deathcharger, her horse, and exchange the boots for more suitable footwear, and then possibly find a little rest. The thought crossed her mind that she could always find a place in Darnassus. At least there her distinctive height and sharply pointed ears wouldn’t stand out so much as in this human capital…no. She still couldn’t bear the thought of meeting someone who had known her from before…before she had fallen to the Lich King.
People pushing past her reminded her that she should probably get moving. So, as always, she headed to the walls where guild notices were posted. Perhaps something there would look promising this time. Perhaps something would jog her memory of the name of that guild she had heard of from a trusted friend?…relative? who she also couldn’t remember. She stopped at the first postings she came to. Hmm, buying and selling goods? She shook her head. No, not her style. Another bar looking for help? Somehow, she just couldn’t picture herself as a barmaid…long dark tail of hair swinging as she ran for ale for a contingent of dwarves…always keeping her damning death knight eyes turned away so she wouldn’t scare off the customers…no. A guild of military and ex-military types? Well, she might qualify…assuming that a fall in battle had led to her present condition. But, no, even if she had been military, she wasn’t any longer. She leaned her forehead against the cool stone wall and sighed.
>>This segment written by Lonetygr<<
Tygr planted his hand on the curved stone walkway of the mage tower and vaulted over the edge, tree branches whipped past his face as he fell a fair distance before landing solidly on his feet. He adjusted his bag and glanced around. He was unnoticed by even the three young mages immersed in their conversation about ley lines just a few feet away.
He was in a hurry. He had to get to the Swamp of Sorrows to fetch some ooze crystals for a crazy experiment. The results would prove to be interesting, if only he could get there and get it done.
Tygr passed over the canal and spotted an elven woman leaning against a wall. She looked upset. He gave her a once over to see if she was someone he knew, then chuckled as he noticed her boots beneath a robe.
He slipped past and disappeared into the crowd of people, it was easy and cheap enough to find something that would complete her disguise at auction. He returned a few moments later and dropping a pair of cloth shoes at the lady’s feet. He didn’t wait to see if she looked up, not wanting to draw attention to her by having a conversation. He just moved back into the crowd, his voice drifting from the shadows nearby. “I thought you could use some shoes.” He chuckled and was gone to catch a gryphon.
Keshiniri jumped at the plop of the shoes at her feet. “What the…?”
She thought she caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye of someone moving quickly, but when she turned to look, no one in the crowd fit that possibly-imagined glimpse.
Then the voice spoke from the shadows. It was true what he said (for the voice was definitely masculine), she could use the shoes. She quickly snatched them up and held them close while she tried to spot her benefactor. She wanted to thank him for his kindness, but she could see no one showing any particular interest in her. Oh well, at least it was nice to know that someone could act kindly toward a stranger. She hoped she might encounter him again (or he, her, since she had no idea what he might look like).
She gave herself a mental shake to chase away the remnants of the funk that she had been in. Now to find a room to stay in. And a drink would be welcome. She had heard tell of a place in the Mage Quarter called The Slaughtered Lamb. Curious name, that. But she had not yet been there, so she decided to try it.
After several minutes of hunting around, she finally found the place and slipped inside. There were few patrons there so she easily found an isolated table in a corner and ordered her drink. Before her drink came, she quickly slipped on the shoes and stuffed the offending boots into her pack. Then she settled back to nurse her drink and watch the patrons to try to figure out what kind of place this was and whether they might have rooms to let.
Keshiniri had nursed her drink as long as she could, but now she knew she really must find a place to stay. After watching the people in The Slaughtered Lamb, she had decided that this place was unlikely to offer rooms for let, so she paid her bill and looked elsewhere in Stormwind. Eventually, she found a widow who happily let her rent a room and even offered to keep it ready for her while she was gone, for a consideration, of course. Keshiniri took her up on the offer.
Now that she had a sort-of permanent place to stay to rest and recover between excursions, Keshiniri began spending more time in Stormwind than in any of the other major cities. And she frequently visited The Slaughtered Lamb for a drink or two when she was in town. She liked the way the majority of the people there politely acknowledged the others’ presence, but otherwise offered only reserved companionship, not asking unwanted questions or intruding if it was clear that someone wanted to be left alone. She found herself able to relax and even sometimes enjoy a little light conversation in this atmosphere. And so what if there seemed to be a group of warlocks doing some demon summoning or such beyond the curtain in the back. Warlocks needed to find their way in the world too, just as she was trying to do.
A chance encounter in the Outlands left Keshiniri thoughtful for days…there were actually guilds that welcomed people who had previously served the Lich King! Not those guilds that just wanted to exploit their “evilness” and power, either. But actual groups of decent folks who would give such a person the benefit of the doubt – would allow her to prove herself. The lady that Keshiniri had met, the lady Nora, had even invited her to such a group.
Keshiniri sipped her (third) drink in her customary corner at The Slaughtered Lamb and thought about this. To ask to join them, this guild of the lady Nora’s, she would need to tell her story. They deserved that. But was she ready to do such a thing? Could she really tell of what had happened, what she had done?
She ordered another drink. When it came, she tilted her chair back to stare at the ceiling while she drank and pondered.
>>This segment written by Norith the Wanderer<<
Rarely, did Norith ever come to the capitol city of the humans. A chance to visit their libary, however, could not be passed up. There were books in there that he must read, books that could only help <Veritas> and others.
And since he was there, he might as well pay his respects to the Moon glade that was in one of the Parks of the City. How or why it was built there, he never could find out, but it offered a chance to perform the old rituals, and to pay respects to friends that were stationed there from the Cenarion Circle.
He walked into the inn that had a lamb’s throat cut on its sign above the door, clearly not a warm welcome would be expected therein. Several humans shouldered their way passed, giving dark looks that mirrored that ebony shadows within.
He ordered his drink, a tall glass of Dalaran wine, one of the few good things about his association with the Kirin Tor. It was weak, and would not impede his thoughts all too much. He was about to find a table of his own, when he spotted a woman deep in thought in a quiet corner, sipping absently at the drink in front of her. It was more that just the fact that she was deep in thought that drew him over for a conversation, it was that she seemed to need a friend.
“Pardon me,” he said casually, in an accent that still had a Kal’dorei quality to it. “but whatever could be causing you to neglect your drink like that could never be so serious as that.”
>>This segment written by Lonetygr<<
“Two thousand gold.” Tygr opened the coin sack and showed the three gentlemen seated on the other side of the table a glimpse of the coins. He hoped they weren’t going to try anything stupid. Given that they were Scarlets and didn’t act the part of gentlemen it was probably too much to hope for. People would believe a lie because they wanted it to be true. He really wanted an azure whelpling, but at this point he was sure they didn’t have one. So he continued to play the cautious fool. “If you don’t have one I can go to my friends in Silvermoon. I’m in no hurry.”
“Filthy Horde!” One of the men spat the words out. His knuckles were turning white around the thick wooden mug of ale in his hand. Tygr thought he might crush the mug, but his grip loosened. “We’ve got one here in the city. It will take us a while to get it quiet and out of hiding. We’ll meet you at the tool shed behind the dry dock. Give us a couple of hours to get there. Bring the gold and you’ve got a whelp.”
The man gave Tygr a great fake grin, his teeth were half rotten. The other two nodded. Tygr looked in his steely eyes. They were filled with hatred. It was no matter. Tygr nodded. “Thank you. I’ve been looking for one of these for a long time. The trees of Ashenvale will sing your praises gentlemen.”
The three men stood up and walked out, their bulky frames almost filling the doorway. Tygr sighed and motioned for the barmaid. She quickly cleared the mugs from the table and he gave her a generous tip. As she left a short cloaked figure slipped into the recently vacated seat. They spoke in whispers.
“Tygr.”
“Sir, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Those men?”
“Yeah, I think they might be the ones responsible for ‘recruiting’ your fair citizens to join their crusade.”
“That’s them. We can’t touch this Tygr. Too much pressure from the Cathedral. I’m sorry but SI:7 isn’t involved.”
“I’ll take care of it. It will look bad for them, should keep them more than cautious for a while.”
“Good luck Tygr.”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“Bastards probably don’t even have a whelp.”
The cloaked figure was chuckling as he exited The Slaughtered Lamb.
– – –
Tygr scanned the room as he stood and turned to leave. Slowly a smile crept over his face.
“Norith!” He called from across the room. He was with a familiar looking woman. It wasn’t Rowani. “You fuzzy bear!” Tygr moved gracefully between the tables to Norith and the woman.
“Your secret is safe with me my friend.” He chuckled, patting Norith on the shoulder. “Who is your lady friend?” He helped himself to a seat at their table, looking the woman over. “Oh.” There was a pause as he realized where he had seen her before. “I’m Tygr.”
>>This segment written by Norith the Wanderer<<
Norith grinned at his friend, but looked nonplussed at the comment about his secret. That is, until he took in the location of the tavern, it occupants, and that he was with another woman. Well, that won’t do…
“Ah… I have no idea, yet.” Norith said smoothly. “I have only just arrived and wanted to know what her problem was.” He twirled his drink between his hands a moment. “It seems to wear on her like a wet cloak.“
When Norith first addressed her, Keshiniri jumped at the sound of his voice, lost her balance, and she and the chair both landed on the floor with small thumps. Before he could reach to help, she righted herself and the chair and sat once again. She gave him an I-meant-to-do-that smile and carefully set her drink on the table. Surprisingly, not a drop had spilled.
“Ah. Hello.” Well, that sounded lame. Oh well, plunge ahead. At least he didn’t look familiar, not someone who had known her from before. She absently brushed back a stray strand of dark hair. “Serious? Well, mental self-examination, screwing up courage, that sort of thing. Maybe not enough to neglect my drink so, though.” She smiled slightly again, as if out of practice with the expression.
Before she could think of what to say next, a voice called from across the room, apparently addressing the man who had just joined her. She recognized that voice! She carefully studied the voice’s owner as he joined them. So…here was the person to go with the voice that dropped shoes at one’s feet. And these two seemed to know each other well.
“I’m Keshiniri,” she said at a convenient break in their banter. “Please, have a seat. Join me. Shall I have snacks brought over?” She gave them a shyly wicked grin.
“I don’t know about any wet cloaks, and I wouldn’t say I truly have a problem…as such.” She studied their faces. Chance-met strangers in a bar. Right. She’d heard stories, even if she didn’t remember about such things from before. Ah, well, one had already shown her kindness and discretion. And the other, the one apparently called Norith, seemed a good friend of this Tygr. A good recommendation, she thought. “More a decision to make,” she continued. “I’ve been invited by a nice lady, chance-met, to possibly join the guild she belongs to. They sound like good people. Explorers. Seekers after truth. I just have some…unpleasant…no, truly horrible…things…in my recent past that it would only be right to let these people know about…if I’m asking to join them…but these things are…difficult…to speak of…”
>>This segment written by Norith the Wanderer<<
He stared at silent amazement that the drink did not spill when her chair went out from underneath Keshiniri. Reflexes like that could mean a rogue, or another druid, one that prefers the forms of cats. Let us see what we can then. But it was her words that brought true amazement.
Norith shot a look at Tygr, as if to say, “Can you keep a secret?”. Clearly, from the description of this mysterious group that Keshiniri was talking about, it was the Order of <Veritas>. No need to reveal the big secret yet, and if anyone could keep a secret, it was Lonetygr.
Norith looked Keshiniri over. Outwardly, she was definitely a Kaldorei, with the glowing eyes and the long ears, and the shorter stature of a female. But there were subtle, differences that waited to be discovered. The glow was wrong, for one, and there was a sense of decay, but mild. Not a smell, but a sense.
“Aye?” Norith said casually, taking a sip of his drink and signaling to the bartender to bring a tray of meat and cheese, and a fresh loaf to the table. “It sounds like a great decision to be made indeed. Tell us your tale then, and let us be the judges to be weighed and measured against.”
He set the cup down as the tray of food arrived. “It cannot be so terrible in comparison to what Tygr and I have seen in our long lives.”
>>This segment written by Lonetygr<<
Tygr watched Norith to see if he was rattled. He hoped that he was but it didn’t seem like it. Druids could be mountains. Tygr might shake Norith if he offered to sell his secrets to Delrael, but he wouldn’t stoop that low to get a rise out of his furry friend. He imagined the disapproving glare Nayerilo would give him if she knew he had even thought that. Those were druids cut from the same cloth.
He nodded at Kishiniri as she introduced herself, caught Norith’s glance and naturally lowered his eyes to study the grain of the table as Kishiniri spoke of what was probably Veritas. He listened to her and then Norith. His eyebrows lifted under his mask as Norith included him in the judging of a death knight.
Who was Tygr to judge? In a couple of hours he was going to go down to the docks and make grown men wet themselves. He was going to confirm the rumors that he knew to be true. Only one of those Scarlet Onslaught fools would be counted among the living to give Tygr’s message to the church at morning light. Pieces of the other two, more if they had friends, would surely make the daily Gnews.
“I won’t judge you for your past deeds Kishiniri. But, I admit I am a little curious about you.” Tygr spoke quietly. He wondered if Lady Nora had sent Norith to test the woman. If not, then this was a very strange chance encounter.
He pulled off his glove and grabbed a handful of meat and cheese, leaning back in his seat, he was more than a little curious.
Keshiniri sipped her drink and thought quickly. These two Kaldorei seemed sincere. She felt from them a sense of confidence in their own strength. And the glances they exchanged seemed to indicate a strong knowledge of each other, friendship even. She wished she could interpret their glances, though; she felt was missing something here. She nodded acknowledgment of their words, then spoke softly.”Alright. To begin, you should know that I have very little memory of who I am. What I am sure of is that, until relatively recently, I was one of the Lich King’s death knights, one of his puppets, really. And now, I am apparently a Knight of the Ebon Blade. A little pretentious sounding, isn’t it?
I do know that Keshiniri is my name, but I don’t remember my family or really anything about what I was before the Lich King got ahold of me. All I am certain of is that I was not what he made me into. And what I remember of my time enslaved to him is somewhat fragmented. Also, while I witnessed much of three battles, that I can remember, I was like a prisoner in my body. I could see, but couldn’t stop what I saw myself doing.”
She told them then of her time as the Lich King’s pawn, of his voice always whispering in her mind telling her that her will was not her own, of the hunger and pain that was only alleviated – a little – by killing as he commanded. She described the images that were forever seared into her soul, the fights in Havenshire and New Avalon, the slaughter there of innocent villagers who, for the most part, were merely trying to get away, the hundreds that she had cut down on command. She described the sounds of their terror and the choking miasma of fires and death…and plague. She told how these scenes of horror were separated for her by times of darkness, times when she did not see what she was being forced to do, times when she felt her very self being forced away by the Lich King’s will. But somehow, that small part of her that was her true self did not vanish completely.
“Then, in the darkness, I heard a new voice, not the Lich King’s incessant whispers but a voice that I knew from before. Her name was Yazmina Oakenthorn. She reminded me that I was Kaldorei, not this thing that he had made me. My prison trembled…a little. I could hear Yazmina’s words…feel them having some effect inside me. She reminded me of home and how she had cared for me when I was a child while my mother served as a Sister of Elune. She told me to remember the splendor of life and that this world is worth saving. I could feel the soul prison falter a little. But not enough! Helpless to stop it, I watched as my arms swung the sword and took from the world the light that was Yazmina.”
Keshiniri paused to take another sip of her drink and compose herself.
“Some time later…I know not how long…the haze began to clear from my vision. In the midst of a battle at Light’s Hope Chapel, I saw a man, a paladin, who seemed surrounded in light. His name came to me: Highlord Tirion Fordring. His actions sent cracks through the prison of my soul: he helped release Highlord Darion Mograine from the domination of the Lich King. And Highlord Mograine’s words broke away whole chunks of my prison: ‘We will fight to bring an end to the Lich King. The haze has been lifted. I can see as clearly now as the day I plunged the Ashbringer into my own heart to free my father’s cursed soul: my last memory as a free man.‘
The examples of these leaders carried me with the Knights of the Ebon Blade through the fight to gain freedom for Ebon Hold from the Lich King. They carried me through my journey to Stormwind, past the just accusations of the people there, to the king to deliver a letter from Highlord Fordring telling that we Knights of the Ebon Blade seek the end of the Scourge and asking that the king show tolerance of us.”
After a quick drink, she continued. “By blood and honor we all serve, Highlord Fordring wrote. I hope to live up to that idea as I seek to learn the truth of who I was before I was taken, who I am now. I also seek an end to the evil of the Lich King. Or at least to do my part in the battle. I hope that I can, in some small way, try to become someone who is worthy of my victims’ sacrifices for this world and those they cared for.”
Looking down, she added, barely audible, “And, even in some small way, atone for the evil I did previously in the Lich King’s cause.”
After a moment, she continued. “Since winning free of the Lich King, I have done what I could to stymie the Scourge in the Plaguelands, with some small successes. And I believe that the Argent Dawn is pleased with my efforts; they have graciously granted me the status of honored ally. And this fight seems familiar, so perhaps this is what I was doing before the Lich King took me.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know for certain. My memories from before are few and hazy. When I spoke with the lady I mentioned earlier – her name is Nora, by the way – she had some interesting ideas about what had happened to my memories, something about them being stolen for power…”
Another shrug. “Don’t know about that sort of thing…but anyway, I’m rambling now. I can say though, that helping a druid in those beleaguered lands seemed very right and natural. So perhaps I worked with the druids before all this.” She quirked an eyebrow at the two men, then, curious to see what they would make of all this.
>>This segment written by Norith the Wanderer<<
Norith listened to the story that Keshiniri told, and tried to keep his face from betraying his thoughts and feelings. For the most part, he was successful at it.
It seemed to match much of what many of these Deathknights had gone through, right up to the final battle between Arthas and Mograine.
What really happened? Was it all true, or were these so-called Knights of the Ebon Blade a ruse by the Scourge. to allay our fears and concerns with allies and friends that would only betray us in the end, a pawn in a final gambit? Only time could tell that tale, and it spoke slowly, and with great care for its words.
“A fine tale you spin, Keshiniri,” Norith said, putting down his empty cup. “It is sad to hear, yet it does bring hope, neh?”
Norith brought his fingers up together in a steeple fashion, and rested them on his chin, apparently in thought. Finally, he spoke. “Many people care secrets, that much is certain. We have all done things we are not proud of, or conversely, are.” He smiled briefly. “It is a certainty, like death. You are not alone in that regard.”
“Actions speak louder than mere words, my dear.” Norith said, glancing at the woman. “Words cannot be trusted, as they can be manipulated, turned. Actions too, I suppose, but you see what the outcome is, or will be.”
He leaned forward, and looked Keshiniri in the eyes. A glint of a pin shone briefly on his collar, a flash of fire in the night, shaped like a small flame.”So.. now that you have an idea of what you might have been, what will you do now?”
Keshiniri nodded. “True. Words can say whatever you want them to. But they will be all that I will have to try to tell the lady’s friends who and what I am.”
The small flame-shaped pin on Norith’s collar intrigued her. Had she seen something like that before?
“As for what I will do now…” She thought of, and quickly discarded a couple of flip answers. “I will continue as I have been, lending my sword to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Likely, I’ll return to the Outlands and continue battling there. I would also like to work more with the Argent Dawn and their allies against the Scourge. Although I realize that I must grow stronger to ultimately participate in the fight against the Scourge in the north. And, I need to learn of myself…”
She thoughtfully ran a finger along the woodgrain of the table. “In many ways, I feel like a child, not knowing who I am. If I cannot find out who I was before, so be it. I know in my heart that I am not what the Scourge made me into! I hope to find some companions who can travel the path with me and perhaps, now and then, help me figure out myself. And…if things should go wrong…if the Scourge should try to reclaim me for their uses…I would hope that such companions would be able to help make sure that I died a final death rather than see that happen!”
She looked up through her lashes. “Of course, those are all just words. But when you don’t know someone, often her words are all you have to get an idea of what she is like.” Just for a moment, a faint glint of gold sparkled in the blue-glow of her eyes. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone again.
>>This segment written by Lonetygr<<(edited slightly to avoid revealing an inner working of the guild)
Tygr leaned back in his chair and listened to her story. It had some familiar elements and some unique to this Death Knight. She seemed a bit ashamed by what she had done, though she had no control over herself. He thought of Lady Raven, once so meek and quiet. She had changed quite a bit. He thought of Aithelar, for whom the journey into death and life again seemed to change him little. He had fought beside many of the Knights of the Ebon Blade. Much like the Forsaken there were some that were good, others evil.
He popped another piece of meat into his mouth, and continued to listen as Norith spoke first. Keshiniri spoke. His eyes softened and he smiled at her plans. They sounded good to him.
“It sounds like you have quite a quest Keshiniri. It is an honorable goal to learn about ones self. Likewise in these troubled times to help those that cannot help themselves. I wish you the best of luck in your journey. If there is anything I can do to help, you have but to ask the shadows.”
Tygr stood, popping the last bits of food into his mouth chewing as he spoke. “Mhrm… It wash goo seein,” he gulped down the food, “you again Norith. I’ve got some grisly business to attend to. If you will both excuse me.” He then made a strange gesture and then gave Norith a nod. He also nodded to the lady as he picked up his glove and pulled it on. Then the shadows of the room seemed to swallow him whole.
>>This segment written by Norith the Wanderer<<
Norith repeated the gesture that Tygr gave him in return and nodded as the rogue made his leave. It was common for Lonetygr to disappear like that, and usually his missions had important goals attached.
“You had said you had met a… Nora, was it?” Norith said casually, sitting forward on the edge of his seat. “Where was that? And what were your impressions of this ‘mysterious’ group of people she spoke of to you?”
He smiled a quick smile, and said in Darnassian, <“Tell me, for I am interested in your views, of course.“>
Keshiniri blinked at the spot where Tygr had disappeared. Interesting way of departing.
Then she turned her attention to small bites of the remaining food and took the time to study Norith a little. She noted particularly his glowing yellow eyes, the scowl that seemed his usual expression but that was belied by his manner, a small ring on his left little finger, and, of course, the small pin shaped like a flame.
Yellow eyes in a Kaldorei…she should know what that meant. She had known someone… With a mental snarl at her lack of memory, she finished chewing.
She tentatively answered his smile with one of her own as she realized that she had understood his last words. She haltingly replied in the same language, growing more confident in her words as she spoke. <“Yes, she said her name was Nora. She’s a human, with dark hair, and I guess a little taller than average height for a human female. From our conversation, I gather that she knows something of magic.
Ours was a chance meeting in the Outlands, at the Allerian Stronghold in Terokkar Forest. I was helping them there with some of their problems when we both happened to speak to the same man about similar activities. She seemed to be helping them as well. We started to talk about the sometime loneliness of going about such activities and she told me of her guild, how they are adventurers and explorers, seekers after knowledge. She also said that they already have a few members like me. They sound like a group that might be accept me as I am, even lacking memories and all. We only talked briefly, but my impression of her was that she was sincere in her invitation to contact her if I’d like to see about joining the guild. And if she’s representative of the members, they ought to be decent folk.
Funny, though, now that I think of it, I don’t remember her mentioning the name of the guild. Guess I’d better get in touch with her to learn more!“>
She then gave Norith a mock glare. <“So…since you invited yourself to my table, perhaps you could tell me something of yourself? I’ve done a lot of talking about me, but who exactly are you? And do you do this sort of thing often?“> She made a general gesture that encompassed the table, chairs and food, herself, the room in general, and him. <“And what makes my views so interesting, anyway?“>
Keshiniri was not to get an answer to her question at that time. While she was speaking, Norith had cocked his head, as if listening to something no one else could hear. He seemed distracted and, as soon as Keshiniri finished speaking, excused himself. He turned away and, ducking his head down slightly, seemed to be speaking to someone. Keshiniri watched with interest.
After a moment, Norith stood and excused himself again. <“My apologies. There is something I must attend to.“> He dropped a few coins on the table, tendered her a gracious good-bye, and left in something of a hurry.
Keshiniri wondered at his sudden departure. Then she shrugged. Everyone had important things they needed to do.
She glanced out the door at the angle of the sun. Getting late. She left a few more coins on the table and headed out to grab a few provisions before returning to her battles in the Outlands.