Rosetia, it had been years since I'd visited the land of my rebirth as a necromancer (I mean I was a necromancer, stopped being one after I got sent to prison, and became one again when I killed my master... look I have a rationalization process down pat). Partly because I didn't visit cities in my feeling sorry for myself while the world goes to hell days, partly because Rosetia is not my favorite place in the world (hilarious now that I currently live here in exile) and partly because I thought the demigod Valrym would try and kill me like I killed my former boss to save him.
But I needed answers about the sword I carried, it had weird properties and seemed to have a propensity for slaying beasts and glowing. So I had to know what the hell it was and if at some point it would explode. So this meant crossing the border through bribery, avoiding Red Hand patrols so I didn't get rousted for being a spy (which happens hilarious enough and not just to oafs like Marian) and making my way to Rosetia and hoping that Valrym was still there in his run down tavern with poor lighting.
Rosetia had changed since I'd last been there, it had grown up as a city, not too much though (as most of the Red Hand cities were far behind their Ronerawth equivelent). Streets were still only partialy paved and only near the main loading areas, there was a train but from what I saw of it they were way behind the types of engines I'd seen in Ronerawth, and most of the lighting and stuff was simple oil lamps still lit by hand (Ronerawths major cities had discovered means of turning steam powered engines to produce electricity more consistently). Also cleanliness was at a mininum horse crap and general refuse was everywhere, it was like going back in time.
I managed to locate the Flagon Slayer just where I remembered it, the sign out front looked a bit more faded but overall it appeared to be the same tavern I'd stepped in years ago. It was still morning, but the open sign was in the window, which thankfully meant less customers to interrupt me and Valrym's little chat about his sword, that being of course if he was still around or alive. He may have sold the tavern and moved on to humping rocks or whatever earth demigods do. I could see smoke over coming out of chimney up top and smell meat cooking, so someone was obviously working inside. I got over my fear of being immediately murdered and opened the door. It was like stepping back a hundred years, like I'd never left, the place looked the exact same. Including Valrym scowling behind his shortened bar.
"Oh my greatest mistake come back to remind me of my failure." His voice was the same gruff anger I recall it being. His words obviously spoke to the same disposition. We were alone in the tavern I saw no other patrons sleeping off a good drink from the night before.
"Good to see you too Valrym, well partially see you."
"I knew you were in town when I could smell the stench of garbage and death, I'd hoped some creature had just died, alas." He had moved from out behind the bar, no weapon, but he was definately on edge. I couldn't exactly blame him, its not like necromancers had made his life easier.
"Easy easy my ego hasn't been bruised in a while and I didn't come here to fight."
"Then what are you doing here? Leading the wolves to me?" His fists were clenched, I could smell a strange smell in the air, perhaps a building of power?
I drew out the sword he had given me all those years ago, "I really need to know where this thing came from and what I've been walking around with all these years."
I could see a visible difference in his posture, he relaxed and the smell in the room went away, "Oh that, that's an interesting story...." And I'll go all in with it tomorrow. Because I'm a masterful story teller with hooks on hooks, and I'm tired writing hurts ok, you entitled jerks who is probably me reading my awful hand writing. STOP BEING A JERK ME!
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