Receding Threats: Unexpected Encounters
38th Ash 121

Deeper and deeper still, Yshvold must explore deeper to find this discrepancy against the natural order to his playground. Whatever it was had left its presence from where it was before and life continued as usual towards his own entrance of the waterways. He could think of no explanation for this strange happenstance besides it was simply exploring like he was, and they happened to cross paths somewhere without his notice.
A troubling notion. If he was unable to see, sense, or hear something that could threaten beasts into hiding by simply being then he was still far too weak to be of use to anyone. He will correct this discrepancy to his pride, with the head of whatever it was decorating the entrance to his way into the Middens.
Blasphemous, that was the only word that could be used to describe his feelings towards going even deeper into a place he wished he would never have seen for the rest of his life. Still though if something was down here, underneath the city above, it could threaten everything he hopes to achieve with his new found life and it must be snuffed out swiftly.
Yshvold felt the flutter of the end of his cloak behind his legs as he kept a low crouch while moving through the sewers. His mask had been pocketed away to help him see better down here, any small movement would be seen and alert him to threats before they became one.
Being in the Cistern meant that rats and slimes were not his only foes. People will undoubtly be here and may attempt to prey on him should he be seen, so he remains unseen and stalks the corridors as a shadow.
The grates that held back debris from other parts of the waterway drooled slimy water from the lips, what you would call water glittered against torches placed there by smugglers and travelers that make this place their main avenue for transport towards other parts of this forbidden hell hole. These lights made it difficult for him to find places to hide in plain sight, but he made due.
Yshvold found himself standing on a pathway that overlooked most of the area he was in. Down below a rowing boat traversed the muck filled sewage water with crates and bags, another smuggler he thought and dismissed the wayward soul to their business. For now he had another target and these people need not know he was here in the first place.
At this moment he found himself at a crossroads, a large open grate that he knew went in deeper but never had reason to go in knowing he would've never came back out and going down the steps below. Either option did not appeal to him as one was the obvious choice and the other condemned him to suffer the presence of these people and hoping they might offer him a safer route deeper in. His plain expression soured and cringed at the thought and he looked deep into the darkness of the open grate, the open maw of the beast looking far more appealing by the second.
A troubling notion. If he was unable to see, sense, or hear something that could threaten beasts into hiding by simply being then he was still far too weak to be of use to anyone. He will correct this discrepancy to his pride, with the head of whatever it was decorating the entrance to his way into the Middens.
Blasphemous, that was the only word that could be used to describe his feelings towards going even deeper into a place he wished he would never have seen for the rest of his life. Still though if something was down here, underneath the city above, it could threaten everything he hopes to achieve with his new found life and it must be snuffed out swiftly.
Yshvold felt the flutter of the end of his cloak behind his legs as he kept a low crouch while moving through the sewers. His mask had been pocketed away to help him see better down here, any small movement would be seen and alert him to threats before they became one.
Being in the Cistern meant that rats and slimes were not his only foes. People will undoubtly be here and may attempt to prey on him should he be seen, so he remains unseen and stalks the corridors as a shadow.
The grates that held back debris from other parts of the waterway drooled slimy water from the lips, what you would call water glittered against torches placed there by smugglers and travelers that make this place their main avenue for transport towards other parts of this forbidden hell hole. These lights made it difficult for him to find places to hide in plain sight, but he made due.
Yshvold found himself standing on a pathway that overlooked most of the area he was in. Down below a rowing boat traversed the muck filled sewage water with crates and bags, another smuggler he thought and dismissed the wayward soul to their business. For now he had another target and these people need not know he was here in the first place.
At this moment he found himself at a crossroads, a large open grate that he knew went in deeper but never had reason to go in knowing he would've never came back out and going down the steps below. Either option did not appeal to him as one was the obvious choice and the other condemned him to suffer the presence of these people and hoping they might offer him a safer route deeper in. His plain expression soured and cringed at the thought and he looked deep into the darkness of the open grate, the open maw of the beast looking far more appealing by the second.