An awkward realization. [The Golden Dragon]

[Sturlin]

Timestamp 8th of Spring, 510 AV

Sturlin felt even more of a fool after his trip to the market. When he had reached into the bottom of his backpack to pull pay the man in the market, he had laid his hand directly on the stiff edge of a brush. After declining the purchase of a second he settled for some feed for Francis and some rope to be utilized for snares. In his haste to escape his embarrassment he stumbled into the Golden Dragon without realizing exactly where the guard at the gate had directed him.

Perhaps the guard felt that a mountain man would be seeking more than just a 'warm bed', or perhaps to city folk a warm bed meant a bed with more than one person in it. Suffice to say the hunter was quite unprepared to find himself standing in a brothel. His scarred face settled into a scowl as he stood in the doorway. A young woman briefly looked interested in approaching him, but he folded his thick arms and pointedly ignored her until she found entertainment elsewhere.

He lowered the hood of his cloak as the warmth of the room washed over him. The men and women lounging about, perhaps indecently in a few places, seemed to offend him more than it ought. This sort of 'entertainment' should at least be reserved for rooms behind closed doors. His face flushed as he realized that they probably offered that here as well. After several moments of glaring at those around him he moved forward to seek out an employee so that he could pay for his lodging and find some privacy.

[Sturlin]

Once he'd stabled Francis and purchased a room for the night he immediately hitched his pack more comfortably onto his back and made his way toward his sleeping arrangements. He declined offers to dine with the others, in fact he declined food altogether. While a warm meal cooked well would not go amiss he had no confidence in their ability to feed him without somehow inflicting their diseases upon him. Apparently his opinion of their profession was rather clearly written on his face because no one bothered him as he made his way toward the solace of privacy.

Locking the door behind him he examined the room thoroughly. Under the bed and furniture, in any closets and drawers. Once satisfied that he was the only one present he locked the door and sat his backpack on the floor. Popping the flap open he released Mr. Pickles into the room so that he could begin his explorations. Now that the cat was loose and the room was safe, Sturlin fell on the bed fully clothed and let out a sigh of happiness.

The bed made the room perfect. Once his body had warmed a man-shaped portion of the bed he flipped over onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows to watch the cat. Rolls of wrinkly skin fell upon rolls of wrinkly skin as Mr. Pickles decided to curl nose to tail and go to sleep on the edge of the bed. While such a vision was cute, it was far from entertaining enough to hold the attention forever. Laying back on the bed Sturlin stared up at the ceiling and began to contemplate in silence.

[Sturlin]

A fearsome face loomed out of a heavy fog and filled the boy's face with fear. It hovered for a moment before exploding in a ball of fire and bathing him in searing embers. Wanting to get away, needing to get away, the boy staggered through the smoke and slipped from the edge of the earth. He felt his stomach leap into his throat and panic gripped him as acrid wind whipped at his face and through his hair. Images flitted in and out of his vision, his eyes drawn to them in spite of his desire to clench them against the idea of the ground moving upward to meet him.

That face looked so much like the boy's. He saw a man wearing that face, standing over a sobbing young woman. She was protecting a child with her arms as the man whipped her over and over with a lash of fire gripped in his left hand. Homespun cloth and flesh peeled away in strips. The child in her arms wept as she screamed. Finally the boy was able to turn his eyes away.

Before the vision had fully cleared from his mind he saw a young man with brown hair standing in front of a mirror. His hair was tangled and burned. The roots were fine, he must have put out the flames before they consumed his face, but his body was burned in patches where his blackened clothes were hanging from his frame. With a grim expression on his face the man took his knife and began to shear the hair from his scalp.

Earth rose up to catch him and he gently lay on its surface, stroking the dirt and sobbing. When finally the boy found his feet he stood tall in a field of endless brown grass. Grave markers stretched from horizon to horizon. Row upon row called out to him. Sturlin knew where he had to go. His small feet crackled and crunched the dead grass as he approached the woman's grave. When he looked upon the name on the stone he fell to his knees and wept.

Blackened claws rent the earth apart as she clawed her way out of the cemetery ground. Her skin was pinched tight over her muscle and bone, burned black by flame. A worm fell out of her eye and into his hair as she reached out to him. He could see the tips of her bones sticking out of her rotted fingers. As he recoiled in horror his mother's corpse spoke, “What's the matter son, don't you love me?”

He awoke in a cold sweat.

Luminous eyes were only an inch from his own. Mr. Pickles was standing on his chest. At the moment, annoyance at this did not even occur to him. With the fear of his nightmare still gripping him, and the image of his mother's face fresh in his eyes, he was relieved to see his friend. With slow and deliberate motion Mr. Pickles licked the tip of the hunter's nose and then curled up on his chest to purr. A tear fell from the corner of his eye as he lifted his scarred hand to rest it on the soft skin of the cat. “Oh yes. Now I remember. Beds give me nightmares.”

Attempting to find sleep again was not a goal that was high on his list. Once the purring had calmed him and he had time to cuddle away his fears he sat up on the bed and picked up his pack. He'd not undressed, he'd not unpacked, and he'd already paid. The window showed that it was still dark, but he would rather get an early start than stay here any longer. Once the gates opened it would be walking without rest until he found his campsite.

As he left, the sound of early morning lovers had never seemed more offensive.

Thread Finished

[Gossamer]

Sturlin Lore: Shopping in Syliras, Golden Dragon in Syliras Additional Notes: There was really nothing I could give you XP for in this thread since you didn't really do anything but shop and take a room. But I did award you two lores. I hope that helps! Also the Golden Dragon has great food and is only half known as being a brothel. The knights claim its a gentleman's club!