It served as an irritation. Excuse after lame excuse had the Prince set on edge. The remnants of his men were weak, he was a stranger to this land, and he had not a penny to his name, only his own dragon blood to guide him. He couldn't even find an explanation what had happened. What those things were that had attacked his home- nothing. No one even seemed to recognize where he had come from, the name had been foreign to him, and it grated on his nerves.
Though the prince had been drawn to Adela, sensing the dragon kinship there, but any other draw to the land was minimal. These humans.. he bristled at their ineptness and bared his teeth, storming out of the tavern to leave his drunk men behind. Where those really the last remaining knights of his kingdom? Pathetic! No wonder they had fallen.
But those things.. black and gnarled and wicked creatures. What were they? They were so powerful.. he still had nightmares of the attacks and was rarely sleeping, which also leant itself to one of the many things weighing heavily on his conscience, and his nerves.
Taking to the streets, he stormed across the cobblestone, hoping a walk through the nearby wooded paths would clear his head. He kept a hand firm to the hilt of his sword, a grip so tight the knuckles were already white and soon disappeared into the thick wood of the mountains.
With trees all around him, he drew the blade from it's sheath and began to parry. Metal to wood, and whirling silver archs striking across the air. A quick jab here, then an angered thrust with a growl as he sunk the blade deep into a tree, then growled with even more frustration when the blade had become stuck. Baring his teeth, Rezvek placed his boot against the trunk and gave a hard yank, pulling the blade free from the tree before wiping off the sweat from his brow on the back of his arm, his chest heaving heavily from the practice.
He only felt partially better, but a bitterness still rotted inside his gut as his red eyes simmered and stared out across the woods, off into eternity. Those creatures.. whatever they were, he would find a way to make them pay. Gripping onto the crest of his family, which hung in a necklace that lay just across his chest, he stuffed it back into his shirt and shuffled his weight about, testing his sword again and contemplating some more practice. Though he grew irritated with it again and felt too sticky, sweaty and hot.
Thankfully there was a nearby stream, with a cool, cascading series of waterfalls coming off the craggy mountain side. Peeling off his armor, then his shirt, he sat down beside the bank and worked at unlacing his boots when he heard a noise. Quickly grabbing onto his blade he turned around, on the offensive and shouted off into the woods, "Who's there!?" his voice daring any who might be near to just try anything, feeling the dragon blood within him already beginning to burn in anticipation of transformation.
