Winter 35, 515, Late-Evening
The dimly-lit common room at the Safehaven Hostel was depressing and quiet as usual. Nothing adorned the worn, red brick walls. There were a few simple long tables with benches and several square tables with chairs. A hearth blazed at one end of the room and few lanterns spotted the rest of the Hostel. A dozen sullen people sat scattered and spoke in hushed tones. Vysia, the crippled monk who ran the place, was half asleep at the counter.
Imass sat next to the fire and was rumbling a sad song he had been working on the last week.
"For~ three long years~ I've been darkness~ No pleasure here on Mizahar I can find~ I have no comrades to help me now~ help me now~"
The Akalak was no composer, but his situation left him sitting around all day in boredom waiting for more work. In the last week, he had only gotten one mercenary job that barely paid for his living expense thus far.
"I am bound to ramble and wander~ perhaps I'll die in this city~ until I can fly away~ fly away~ There is only one promise that is given~ I will meet you once again when I die~"
The blue man was staring at the wall as he sung, completely lost in thought. His three year beard was down to his chest and his hair hung in greasy strands to his shoulders. He wore simple gray woolen clothes.