Open A clouded vision. [Patrol]

[Alexander Faircroft]

58th fall 516AV

21:45

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Bad dreams and sour mornings. That’s all that awaited Alex upon his return to Syliras. That and the fog. His fog was…truly strange. So thick it couldn’t be peered through limiting vision to less than a dozen feet. Lost amongst its dark and winding spiralling walled grey Alex stepped. His foot falls slow and deliberate. Making sure to not draw unnecessary attention to himself amongst the darkness and dank grey murk. His hands as usual tense. Shaky. Wavering. His breathing slow and even. The majority of his weapons back at his quarters, his larger blades left behind Just his dagger, shield and both bastard swords with him.

Noticeably lighter despite his calm nature he’d felt a strong underlying sense of dread. That flash of something he’d seen scream by the barracks the prior day and now he was out in this grey sea. He could feel his hands rattling amongst his gauntlets, the chain lightly scraping the steel of the plate. A chill ran down his spine as he stepped. Metallic foot falls echoing through the blackened sky and grey swallowed streets. He was on edge, and he hadn’t been so on edge since his time in Sunberth. Since his long nights of sleeping shallowly with a dagger clutched tightly to his chest.

He felt small, the afraid kid he’d been once before. Came creeping up the back of his spine as a chill ran down it. He wanted to turn tail and flee. To barricade himself in the barracks and whether the storm that way. However something inside him told him to continue on. To push forwards. A desire to protect or a will to prove himself not the child anymore. Whichever the true motivation behind his steps. He pressed on. Pushing through the fog, almost cutting it now with a resolution of will. He’d never go back to being that cowering child.

CreditMassive thanks to Fire for this awesome template.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex trudged through the city streets his hands firmly wrapped around the hilts of his swords. The blades ready at a moment’s notice. There was a definite fear creeping around him, engulfing him like a cold flame. His footsteps pressed gingerly into the cobbled stone. Eyes darting back and forth, his actions and even his moments were slow enough to try and muffle the noise of his plate. Trying to move stealthily as possible. Wary of the beasts that lurked in the grey.

Something then shifted behind him. Behind him the sound of clattering wood on stone, and ringing steel echoed forth. His head snapped around his shoulder only to be greeted with nothing but a small wooden bucket rolling across the ground towards him. His breathed a heavy sigh and shifted back to glance into the murk before him moving slowly again. He swiftly realized that relying on his eyes would only get him so far. Out here in this blanket of murkiness. He continued his slow steps such as to not pull the attention of his ears towards the clinking of his own plate.

Still nothing, no shifts no changes in sound, nothing. It was as if the world had suddenly silenced itself, the world had died and shifted into nothingness. Blankness. A feeling that Alex had recently become well acquainted with. His fingertips rubbed together as he glanced down at them. He was antsy. Fearful. A feeling of dread that sat on his shoulders like a pair of lead weights. Pushing him to crouch, his knees bending forcing him to walk with a much lower posture almost like he was trying to sneak through the streets instead of stand tall and proud like a knight would have.
Bunch of idiots… He thought to himself, what was the point of standing that tall and being overly boisterous if you could back up your words and actions with skill? His hands tightened around his blades to the point he could feel the chainmail links beginning to dig into his hands through the leather.