Kain Retsill
47 of Winter, 513
The cold winter winds blew around Kain as he walked down the streets of Sunberth. Even with his wool cloak draped around him, the air cut deep. Snow lay on the ground, turned slosh and brown by the incessant trodding of the Sunberthan crowd. Like every street that was wide enough, people crowded around. One would think such a crowd would help with warmth, but not when most of them are cold, hungry whelps. Such is the way of Sunberth.
Nothing special was going on this day. Kain had no purpose, so he decided to walk around the streets. Mostly in the hopes of finding someone who could use a mercenary for work. It was already about the 10th Bell, and no luck yet. Such can be the life of a mercenary. Work one day, work the next. I wish there were something I could do. There has to be something better than wandering the streets.
Unfortunately, right now, there was nothing better for Kain. Ice was forming on his beard, around his lips. Despite the sun getting higher in the sky, the world had yet seemed to warm up. You could see the the uncomfort of everyone in their eyes, and the depression of the group was palpable. On a normal day, the crowds were usually loud, but today there were only murmurs. Even for a winter's day, this seemed to be odd.
Sloshing his leather boots down the street, Kain decided to step off in front of a stall. Not to browse its wares, but to gain some warmth from the group of people shoved together in front of it. His eyes scanned over the group of individuals and then the shop keeper. Every last face look miserable. It looked as if everyone were attending a funeral, one for a beloved friend. Casting his eyes over the stores wares, Kain sees that the shop he had stopped at was selling warm clothing. Cloaks, fur boots, gloves, coats. You name it, they were selling it.
No wonder this store seems especially popular right now. As people pulled out of the crowd, often with a new piece of clothing, they seemed hopeful in the eyes. Maybe they thought that their new protection would be enough for the Sunberth cold. Of course, the cold air coming off of the water cut through anything you could wear. Maybe it is time to head home. With that, Kain stepped away from the crowded stall.
Trudging down the road further, he kept his eyes on the somber faces of the crowd. The ice on Kain's face kept getting thicker. He mumbled to himself, "You would think having a beard in winter is a good thing..." His breath formed deep clouds, rising up in to his face. At least that created some heat. There seemed to be a commotion occuring from behind Kain. However, the sound of the wind in his ears made it hard to hear anything. Oblivious to what was happening behind him, Kain kept walking.
"-ta ma way!"
His ears catching something, Kain began to turn around. As he turned, someone slammed in to his shoulder, pushing him a few inches to his right. Now looking behind him, he sees that same shop owned yelling down the street. The only word that Kain could make out was 'Thief.' Well this is one way to warm up. He turned back towards the thief, still trying to run through the crowd, and takes off after him. With his body stiff from the cold, it took Kain a moment to get up to speed, but now he was hot on the trail of the street urchin.
Nothing special was going on this day. Kain had no purpose, so he decided to walk around the streets. Mostly in the hopes of finding someone who could use a mercenary for work. It was already about the 10th Bell, and no luck yet. Such can be the life of a mercenary. Work one day, work the next. I wish there were something I could do. There has to be something better than wandering the streets.
Unfortunately, right now, there was nothing better for Kain. Ice was forming on his beard, around his lips. Despite the sun getting higher in the sky, the world had yet seemed to warm up. You could see the the uncomfort of everyone in their eyes, and the depression of the group was palpable. On a normal day, the crowds were usually loud, but today there were only murmurs. Even for a winter's day, this seemed to be odd.
Sloshing his leather boots down the street, Kain decided to step off in front of a stall. Not to browse its wares, but to gain some warmth from the group of people shoved together in front of it. His eyes scanned over the group of individuals and then the shop keeper. Every last face look miserable. It looked as if everyone were attending a funeral, one for a beloved friend. Casting his eyes over the stores wares, Kain sees that the shop he had stopped at was selling warm clothing. Cloaks, fur boots, gloves, coats. You name it, they were selling it.
No wonder this store seems especially popular right now. As people pulled out of the crowd, often with a new piece of clothing, they seemed hopeful in the eyes. Maybe they thought that their new protection would be enough for the Sunberth cold. Of course, the cold air coming off of the water cut through anything you could wear. Maybe it is time to head home. With that, Kain stepped away from the crowded stall.
Trudging down the road further, he kept his eyes on the somber faces of the crowd. The ice on Kain's face kept getting thicker. He mumbled to himself, "You would think having a beard in winter is a good thing..." His breath formed deep clouds, rising up in to his face. At least that created some heat. There seemed to be a commotion occuring from behind Kain. However, the sound of the wind in his ears made it hard to hear anything. Oblivious to what was happening behind him, Kain kept walking.
"-ta ma way!"
His ears catching something, Kain began to turn around. As he turned, someone slammed in to his shoulder, pushing him a few inches to his right. Now looking behind him, he sees that same shop owned yelling down the street. The only word that Kain could make out was 'Thief.' Well this is one way to warm up. He turned back towards the thief, still trying to run through the crowd, and takes off after him. With his body stiff from the cold, it took Kain a moment to get up to speed, but now he was hot on the trail of the street urchin.