Post by erokai on Feb 6, 2006 11:47:52 GMT -5
The sun was low in the sky, the dull orange disk peering through soft grey clouds as it slowly faded beneath the distant horizon, where the lush green forests met the rapidly darkening sky. The few people that were still about the keep were of no consequence. Some simply talked with friends beneath the rust coloured sky, enjoying what they thought to be a beautiful view. Some simply walked hurriedly back to their homes, or rooms within the keep, not wanting to be caught out after dark for fear of what might dwell in the coming night. They had no idea.
Erokai Saquet disliked the sun intensely. He almost hated it, but not quite. The sun was far from a friend to him, as it's glaring bright light and burning heat hindered his dark deeds, and interfered with business. Besides, it reminded him of his home country, his village in the burning sand dunes, his father, and his terrible past.
Erokai stood just outside the main doors to the keep as people moved in and out with shuffling steps, his black cloak billowing out around him in the wind, as the light slowly faded. He gazed down upon the city of Karador, his dark red eyes alight with malice as he thought of things that decent men would never even begin to comprehend. Erokai was a murderer, a thief, a villain, a cutthroat and an all round menace. Death was his trade, and business was good, and could only get better.
His form and features remained obscured by his dark hooded black cloak as it danced madly in the breeze, though in the darkness of his hood one could almost imagine they saw two gleaming points of red light, but that was pure fantasy, wasn't it? No man had red eyes. . . True, but Erokai was no man and prided himself on that fact. He was a half blood, a Dunpeal, or in his native land - a Kuruaka.
He had struggled with the language when he first arrived in the kingdom, thinking it foolish and crude in comparison to his own proud tongue, and even now, though he possessed a wide vocabulary he was still getting used to thinking in Karadorian. Still, he knew enough of the language to secure himself a new contract, and bargain hard for a sharp deal.
As terrible a creature as he was, Erokai's mind - though heavily polluted by dark passions and twisted desires - was sharp and agile. It was through this gift that he had been able to learn the language with such speed, though there were still holes in his knowledge, and speech in the crude tongue of these people did not yet come naturally to his lips. It was of little consequence though, he reminded himself, as he began to walk down to the outer walls of the grounds that surrounded the keep, eager to enter the city proper and pursue his ghastly interests.
Erokai Saquet disliked the sun intensely. He almost hated it, but not quite. The sun was far from a friend to him, as it's glaring bright light and burning heat hindered his dark deeds, and interfered with business. Besides, it reminded him of his home country, his village in the burning sand dunes, his father, and his terrible past.
Erokai stood just outside the main doors to the keep as people moved in and out with shuffling steps, his black cloak billowing out around him in the wind, as the light slowly faded. He gazed down upon the city of Karador, his dark red eyes alight with malice as he thought of things that decent men would never even begin to comprehend. Erokai was a murderer, a thief, a villain, a cutthroat and an all round menace. Death was his trade, and business was good, and could only get better.
His form and features remained obscured by his dark hooded black cloak as it danced madly in the breeze, though in the darkness of his hood one could almost imagine they saw two gleaming points of red light, but that was pure fantasy, wasn't it? No man had red eyes. . . True, but Erokai was no man and prided himself on that fact. He was a half blood, a Dunpeal, or in his native land - a Kuruaka.
He had struggled with the language when he first arrived in the kingdom, thinking it foolish and crude in comparison to his own proud tongue, and even now, though he possessed a wide vocabulary he was still getting used to thinking in Karadorian. Still, he knew enough of the language to secure himself a new contract, and bargain hard for a sharp deal.
As terrible a creature as he was, Erokai's mind - though heavily polluted by dark passions and twisted desires - was sharp and agile. It was through this gift that he had been able to learn the language with such speed, though there were still holes in his knowledge, and speech in the crude tongue of these people did not yet come naturally to his lips. It was of little consequence though, he reminded himself, as he began to walk down to the outer walls of the grounds that surrounded the keep, eager to enter the city proper and pursue his ghastly interests.