There were no prayers for the dying, not where he was concerned. His place had been one of desperation, constantly jumping from one body to another, when his was no longer in the ripest of conditions. It was 'bitch' to say the least, but even such a description was a severe understatement. Few knew of his condition, that the only thing permanent about his apparent vampirism was his spirit, which only gave certain attributes to the body he possessed. And even fewer still knew that with this state came a constant search to find something that would make him permanent, to maintain the youth and strength of the body he possessed. That of young Corvus Brahm.
He never thought he'd travel this far north, away from the comfort of his estate, all to follow a story, a legend really, of the Sorceress of the North, or so the story was told. He braved Mordecai country before, and to do it again only made him realize his desperation. To find a solution to his 'problem'. It seemed every possible avenue he found, only seemed to be a dead-end. But he'd never been so determined before in his life to find an answer. And it seemed this time, he just might.
He'd heard the stories of the Sorceress who somehow managed to preserve herself for years beyond the mortal coil. But how? He'd heard vague tales of her magic, able to harvest souls, using demons and the like. The very thought of it intrigued him, made him curious. And curiosity was all he needed to drive him to this secluded village in the tundra, the air brisk, night air cold as the sun steadily faded below the mountain range. Corvus would make his assessment tomorrow, ask the people around about this strange and mysterious woman.
He walked into the only tavern in town, and pulled down the collar of his cloak, stepping inside with door behind him slamming shut. Few people glanced up at him, and those that did, his quick eyes saw traces of fear that swirled in them before they turned back to their meager conversations, occasionally looking around the room again, trying to remain inconspicuous. Corvus set his eyes across the room as he slowly walked in, noticing one pair of them hadn't removed them from his person, and he furrowed his brow in thought, seeing the woman across the way. He met her eyes for a moment, looking her over and eventually turning around, almost snuffing her gaze and turning his attention to the bar at one end of the tavern. He took a seat and looked at the bartender.
"What'll ye be havin' sir?" the sweaty old man said, cleaning a glass, and peering at him as if nothing was amiss.
"It's quite cold outside," Corvus murmured in response. "How bout something to warm the blood? A brandy would do in that case."
"Ahem, of course," the bartender nodded to him. He held out his hand expectantly, rubbing his fingers together.
Corvus smirked and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a single gold coin and dropping it into his hand. "That should do."
The bartender seemed more than pleased at the generosity, when really the drinks were awfully cheap here. "Ah, yes, well, it should, I 'spect. I'll get that brandy to ye right away then." He nodded again, smiling through his mustache and moved to fix his drink. All the while, Corvus could still feel eyes on him.