68th of Searing, 120
The hour was late in Outer Nivenhain. Most shops were closing down for the day, and the baker's ovens had long since extinguished. The streets had gone quiet earlier than they normally did, as a dark overcast had accumulated in the searing sky, and the Rien people returned to their warm homes for shelter in place of gossiping in the marketplace. it looked like it might rain, after all. And who wanted to be caught in Nivenhain's rain at dusk?
A Kathar lurked the darkened streets beneath the threat of rain. he dressed in heavy, expensive-looking armor, and carried a sword upon his back that didn't fit the theme of his gear even remotely. The large, jagged blade rested between two wings of a charcoal plume, betraying his Avialae nature. He could pass for the role he was trying to fulfill, but a trained eye would see through him, for sure.
A low, distant rumble quaked somewhere in the sky while the Kathar inspected a frayed note in his hand, then looked about the streets through the visor of his helm as he searched for the landmarks he was indicated. A bow of his head assured that he was on the right path. While he walked, curious eyes examined the architecture of the homes there. They weren't as big as the more luxurious homes in Outer Nivenhain, and a lot of them were quite spread out.
In a way, it reminded him of the Lower district, just a little more kempt. That was something the faux knight could relate to, especially recently.
Before long, the kathar found his mark. A small stone home, disconnected from the others with plenty of distance to leave the doctor to his isolated medical studies... And practices. It was no secret that the human preferred to get his hands dirty himself, and whispers spoke that it was unwise to cross him. Nonetheless, a life was at stake. They were running out of options, and Mr. Cyrus Faust was one of their last options.
With a deep breath, the kathar removed his helm, then brushed through his short dark hair with his gauntlet-wrapped fingers. He was tan of complexion, tall with piercing dark eyes and soft, almost pensive frown to frame his features. As far as his maturity went, he appeared to be in his mid-thirties comparative to a human. Of course, he was much older, but Avialae lived longer.
Carefully, the giant lifted his gauntlet-wrapped arm, paused, and carefully cleared his throat before he rapped his knuckles against the door. Should the house owner answer, they would be greeted with the visage of the tall, armored Avialae.
"Good evening," spoke the giant with an accent most refined. "I am Knight-Argent Valris. Might I speak with a Mr. Cyrus Faust?" He asked with a humble bow of his head.
The hour was late in Outer Nivenhain. Most shops were closing down for the day, and the baker's ovens had long since extinguished. The streets had gone quiet earlier than they normally did, as a dark overcast had accumulated in the searing sky, and the Rien people returned to their warm homes for shelter in place of gossiping in the marketplace. it looked like it might rain, after all. And who wanted to be caught in Nivenhain's rain at dusk?
A Kathar lurked the darkened streets beneath the threat of rain. he dressed in heavy, expensive-looking armor, and carried a sword upon his back that didn't fit the theme of his gear even remotely. The large, jagged blade rested between two wings of a charcoal plume, betraying his Avialae nature. He could pass for the role he was trying to fulfill, but a trained eye would see through him, for sure.
A low, distant rumble quaked somewhere in the sky while the Kathar inspected a frayed note in his hand, then looked about the streets through the visor of his helm as he searched for the landmarks he was indicated. A bow of his head assured that he was on the right path. While he walked, curious eyes examined the architecture of the homes there. They weren't as big as the more luxurious homes in Outer Nivenhain, and a lot of them were quite spread out.
In a way, it reminded him of the Lower district, just a little more kempt. That was something the faux knight could relate to, especially recently.
Before long, the kathar found his mark. A small stone home, disconnected from the others with plenty of distance to leave the doctor to his isolated medical studies... And practices. It was no secret that the human preferred to get his hands dirty himself, and whispers spoke that it was unwise to cross him. Nonetheless, a life was at stake. They were running out of options, and Mr. Cyrus Faust was one of their last options.
With a deep breath, the kathar removed his helm, then brushed through his short dark hair with his gauntlet-wrapped fingers. He was tan of complexion, tall with piercing dark eyes and soft, almost pensive frown to frame his features. As far as his maturity went, he appeared to be in his mid-thirties comparative to a human. Of course, he was much older, but Avialae lived longer.
Carefully, the giant lifted his gauntlet-wrapped arm, paused, and carefully cleared his throat before he rapped his knuckles against the door. Should the house owner answer, they would be greeted with the visage of the tall, armored Avialae.
"Good evening," spoke the giant with an accent most refined. "I am Knight-Argent Valris. Might I speak with a Mr. Cyrus Faust?" He asked with a humble bow of his head.
