He'd traveled too far and too wide to stop now. Not that Hysaeda was on a pilgrimage, no, Ankuman never performed pilgrimages for they were the spiritual leaders of their specified villages and his father was there to occupy that charge of the Xelikuda camp in the Thunderblacks. Instead, Heilrak encouraged his son to broaden his horizons. "If you are to take my mantle successfully in my passing then you must know and experience more than what you've been confined to in this village. You are a hunter; you know where the land will take you. Follow its heartbeat, my son."
Though the latter was true, Hysaeda was a hunter for both pleasure and profit, he never went on excursions as long as his trek to the city of Essryn in the middle of the damn Moraki Desert. And it was needless to say that the darkened skin of his Umbraeon heritage didn't help with the heat either. Considering themselves the true Dark Elves of Le'ranna, and not the dastardly imitating demons known as the Drow, Umbraeons lived in relative solitude in the mountains of the Thunderblacks, accustomed to their own clan laws and not the rules of organized civilization. But if a tribe wasn't an organized civilization, Hysaeda didn't know what was, for, when he entered a city, he saw nothing but a random hodge-podge of life, street rabble with no real purpose. For all civilized life might construe Umbraeons as no more than barbaric savages, at least there was a sense of being in every breath they took.
Faith carried the steps of every ardent Umbraeon who held their connections to their creator Umbra, and it was with solemn strides that Hysaeda ventured toward the desert city. Despite the fact that it was an oasis in the middle of the heat of hell, he didn't want to risk bringing an avirex into the heated lands. Such reptilian creatures belonged to the forested lands of the Draconi and the edges of the mountains, where water was plentiful and plenty of small mammals to feed on.
Still, he passed through the gates without any relative obstruction and went to the trading stands of the city, following the commotion of prices and biddings being tossed back and forth by humans unwilling to settle on a decision. Shaking his head in disapproval, he ventured forth toward a stand where he could find a man offering various bottled beverages and speaking quickly in a dialect of Common that was almost too quick for the Umbraeon's long ears to catch. "Uh, yes," he repeated several times, pointing to a clear bottle. "This one." The vendor handed him the prescribed bottle of water, was paid and went about his business.
As Hysaeda walked away, he opened the bottle as quickly as possible and tossed the life giving liquid down his throat and soon he felt the rising heat doused by every droplet he consumed. He drank sparingly and placed the rest of the bottle into the travel bag that hung across his shoulder. The very skins he intended to sell made up the clothing that he wore, with loose durable and light deerskin pants with the hem fastened around his calves and a pair of boot-like sandals that were made for long treks. On his torso hung the sleeveless bone-and-leather armor of standard hunter wear, light yet robust, flexible yet withstanding, and the sheath of his golden lightning bolt shaped scimitar, the weapon tucked away on his back.
Soon his path ventured to a strange white-clad orator that caught the attention of his Amber-red eyes. It was a woman from what he could tell with his own eyes and seemed to summon listeners to her presence. He approached with caution as was wont of him to do as if he was stalking prey in the forest and the words the tickled his ears were interesting ones at best. He understood that this woman was not from this region, for her voice lacked the fast-paced dialect of the vendor. Still, that did not stop his expression from becoming quirked as if in a curiously shocked mood. Who in the world was Anaisyn? Why does this prophet speak on about false deities? he thought with growing venom. But he didn't voice his agitations; instead another in the crowd did it for him.
"Yea', and just who might you be? I don't seen any Anaisyn here he'pin' me wit' me crops. If he loves us so much, howcum I ain't never heard of 'im? Get off the panel, we don't wanna hear this bullshit!" a man spat viciously at the female orator. A few others joined in the tension and a clamor soon rose above the growing crowd. Within a few moments, there was true dissent and a stone was sent flying through the air, aiming at her head but missing by a few micrometers.
Whoa, an hour into the city and already things were getting exciting.
