Gartheiz stares from the top of the stairs leading to the Tavern. The wind's calm, the night as dark as they get. But his blood is boiling, like it always does.
He is soaked, bruised and his clothes are all smeared with blood and dirt... A shame the guards intervened though...
"Oh well. Dakkru shall miss my handsome features a day more."He chuckles and goes down the stairs, with his jacket across his left shoulder walking in an elegant pace.
His blood begins cooling down, and the alcohol flowing within gradually eases him. As smoothly as fog mingling with the night, memories from his past invade his mind:
The shabby house his mother shared with his siblings, half siblings, sibling-nephews... The noise about it, the cruel taunts and jokes... The fun of it all...
And the day it blew up, thanks to one of his dumb, red-way-meddling siblings.
He laughs to himself, shaking his head. Dakkru had such wit. It was perfect how it wasn't the vengeance of his siblings' victims, but the consequences of their means that erased them all from Hydlaa.
"Hey, preacher! Heh! I see someone silenced you down this time." A stranger's laughter fades slowly. The fog turns into soft rain, completely erasing the voice he had heard and leaving him to his thoughts.
"There must be more I can do for her..."
