The thirty-fifth day of fall, 514 AV
Keene awoke to the all too familiar rapping of Boswell's knuckles against his door. Struggling to his feet, Keene shuffled over, having grown accustomed to the small room's layout even in the darkness. The chill was partially mitigated by him sleeping in full clothing, but he had been finding his pants and boots to be articles of clothing that were not entirely conducive to island's climate. Were he to be a researcher within the Gug Andjak, his clothing would have been much more appropriate. However, since coming to the island, Keene had spent much of his time outside. The laboratories and workshops were too busy for him to understand much of what was going on, and he found Risabel seemed to be an exception when it came to friendly wizards. Having only really ever known a single magic user, Keene had not quite understood just how distrusting others of his kind were. There were few who wanted to start conversations and fewer who wanted to share any sort of relevant information. Boswell, however, was quite the opposite.
"Keene! Get yer lazy bum outta bed! There'sa ship comin' today with goods from the mainland!" He had seen Boswell excited before, but the wide grin and giddy tone in his voice were a new high for him. Keene had already noticed the island had little to offer to Pulsers, the daily ration of food was incredibly minimal. Any other sort of material comfort was entirely absent from the Sahovan market - including a market. Thus, Boswell's excitement was understandable, and Keene found the prospect of new clothes to be well worth being woken before his time. Nodding, Keene moved back into the room, putting on his boots and grabbing a handful of raisins before locking the door behind him. "The others went ahead, but I didn't want ya to miss out!" He slapped Keene on the shoulder, eliciting a grunt and a frown. "We better get goin'. It's a long walk to the docks."
Keene was very familiar with the absurd distance it took to get from the citadel to the docks. Following Boswell down the steps as the man jabbered away about his latest hunting trip, Keene mentally prepared himself for the next several bells of walking. With the accompaniment of Boswell, however, he figured the journey would not feel nearly as lengthy with the chatter of his companion to keep his mind off of the agonizing distance. Having managed to amass a fair amount of money before leaving Zeltiva, Keene had money to spend. There were things he needed, such as more climate friendly clothes, but beyond that he wasn't sure what all the merchants would have to offer. Boswell seemed excited enough that Keene figured whatever the merchant had to offer, it was more than they were going to get for a good while.
Stepping out into the murky heat of the courtyard, Boswell fell quiet as they traversed the swirling mists of the ghosts' domain. Keene kept an eye out for the round, grinning face of the single spirit he knew by name, but nothing seemed to peer back at him from the obscured details hidden within the fog. Keeping to the path, they continued on until they reached the Vestibule whereupon Boswell's monologue struck up again as if it had never been stopped at all. Glancing at Boswell intermittently as their boots clacked against the cool stone of the gigantic hallway, Keene gave him enough indication that he was listening to avoid having to say much beyond the occasional, "Is that so?" which was plenty to keep the man yapping. After having spent a fair amount of time with Boswell, Keene had grown used to the incessant ramblings. At times it was almost amusing, and at best it was informative. He'd learned a fair bit from the mousy hunter since he'd come to the island, and the only thing he had to repay him was through listening. From what Boswell had told him, there wasn't anyone on the island who was better at listening than Keene.
Keene had never met anyone who could talk so much (at least, no one of the male gender). While it had begun as a minor inconvenience in order to gain information about Sahova, Keene had grown to find Boswell's ability to destroy silence to be almost impressive. Almost. There was the still the unfortunate fact that the majority of what Boswell told him was useless information about his expeditions into the Forest of Thorns. The amount of times he referenced members of his group without preface made many of the stories extremely difficult to follow, even if Keene paid close attention. Still, he kept his mind open and ready to latch onto any subject Boswell happened upon that carried any sort of relevance. As they passed out from under the massive arch that signified both the entrance and exit of the citadel's vestibule, Boswell had started onto a recollection of the time he and his friend had investigated the more intimate areas of their physiology and the ensuing shenanigans. Keene didn't seem to find the tale as humorous as his chuckling companion.
.
Keene awoke to the all too familiar rapping of Boswell's knuckles against his door. Struggling to his feet, Keene shuffled over, having grown accustomed to the small room's layout even in the darkness. The chill was partially mitigated by him sleeping in full clothing, but he had been finding his pants and boots to be articles of clothing that were not entirely conducive to island's climate. Were he to be a researcher within the Gug Andjak, his clothing would have been much more appropriate. However, since coming to the island, Keene had spent much of his time outside. The laboratories and workshops were too busy for him to understand much of what was going on, and he found Risabel seemed to be an exception when it came to friendly wizards. Having only really ever known a single magic user, Keene had not quite understood just how distrusting others of his kind were. There were few who wanted to start conversations and fewer who wanted to share any sort of relevant information. Boswell, however, was quite the opposite.
"Keene! Get yer lazy bum outta bed! There'sa ship comin' today with goods from the mainland!" He had seen Boswell excited before, but the wide grin and giddy tone in his voice were a new high for him. Keene had already noticed the island had little to offer to Pulsers, the daily ration of food was incredibly minimal. Any other sort of material comfort was entirely absent from the Sahovan market - including a market. Thus, Boswell's excitement was understandable, and Keene found the prospect of new clothes to be well worth being woken before his time. Nodding, Keene moved back into the room, putting on his boots and grabbing a handful of raisins before locking the door behind him. "The others went ahead, but I didn't want ya to miss out!" He slapped Keene on the shoulder, eliciting a grunt and a frown. "We better get goin'. It's a long walk to the docks."
Keene was very familiar with the absurd distance it took to get from the citadel to the docks. Following Boswell down the steps as the man jabbered away about his latest hunting trip, Keene mentally prepared himself for the next several bells of walking. With the accompaniment of Boswell, however, he figured the journey would not feel nearly as lengthy with the chatter of his companion to keep his mind off of the agonizing distance. Having managed to amass a fair amount of money before leaving Zeltiva, Keene had money to spend. There were things he needed, such as more climate friendly clothes, but beyond that he wasn't sure what all the merchants would have to offer. Boswell seemed excited enough that Keene figured whatever the merchant had to offer, it was more than they were going to get for a good while.
Stepping out into the murky heat of the courtyard, Boswell fell quiet as they traversed the swirling mists of the ghosts' domain. Keene kept an eye out for the round, grinning face of the single spirit he knew by name, but nothing seemed to peer back at him from the obscured details hidden within the fog. Keeping to the path, they continued on until they reached the Vestibule whereupon Boswell's monologue struck up again as if it had never been stopped at all. Glancing at Boswell intermittently as their boots clacked against the cool stone of the gigantic hallway, Keene gave him enough indication that he was listening to avoid having to say much beyond the occasional, "Is that so?" which was plenty to keep the man yapping. After having spent a fair amount of time with Boswell, Keene had grown used to the incessant ramblings. At times it was almost amusing, and at best it was informative. He'd learned a fair bit from the mousy hunter since he'd come to the island, and the only thing he had to repay him was through listening. From what Boswell had told him, there wasn't anyone on the island who was better at listening than Keene.
Keene had never met anyone who could talk so much (at least, no one of the male gender). While it had begun as a minor inconvenience in order to gain information about Sahova, Keene had grown to find Boswell's ability to destroy silence to be almost impressive. Almost. There was the still the unfortunate fact that the majority of what Boswell told him was useless information about his expeditions into the Forest of Thorns. The amount of times he referenced members of his group without preface made many of the stories extremely difficult to follow, even if Keene paid close attention. Still, he kept his mind open and ready to latch onto any subject Boswell happened upon that carried any sort of relevance. As they passed out from under the massive arch that signified both the entrance and exit of the citadel's vestibule, Boswell had started onto a recollection of the time he and his friend had investigated the more intimate areas of their physiology and the ensuing shenanigans. Keene didn't seem to find the tale as humorous as his chuckling companion.
.
