The man sat in the corner, covered in shadows, making his pale face and red eyes stand out more, contrasting to his black trenchcoat. He swirled the ale in his glass, and then took a sip, savoring the bitter taste, and grinned. His quarry was close. Closer then ever before. There was nowhere left to run. Regare would have what he wanted, and then the mage would be disposed of. There was no chance of it not happening. Regare would not allow the mages to poison the world with their magicks. He would not allow another Apocalypse to be caused by them!
Regare closed his eyes, remembering the visions, the dreams. The world, rent by fire and ice, destroyed utterly and completely by the mages and their bloody magicks. He used the visions to urge him, to power him, to give him strength, to empower him, and to remind him of his mission. To stop the mages, the magick, and another Apocalypse. He took another sip of ale, and remembered the other visions. He grinned again. His other visions were not of the past, but of the future. His future, his ultimate mission. These visions showed him what he must do, to complete his mission, and stop the end of the world. The mage came clear to his mind, as did the book, yes the book. He needed that book, and he would get it. The mage had nowhere left to run. The end was near. Regare finished his ale, and sighed, waving his hand for another. [/i]
