|
The following morning was bright and sunny, but the pleasent weather did little to raise Abarzadan's spirits. After it was announced that they were moving on, he quietly began to pack his few belongings. His poor mood was further doured upon finding that an animal had left a small surprise on his axe case, which had formerly been a beautiful item. He swore, and kicked it across the tent, only to find that the still wet fecal material splattered over the rest of his belongings. This evoked further rage, but the spell lasted only a few minutes. "Probably something Marsillion set up," he mumbled, surveying the now collosal mess.
Cleaning up was no easy task, but Abarzadan was glad that the others did not seek to know the cause of the brief ruckus inside his tent. Despite his anger over various issues, the man was happy that they were leaving - he wanted to get out of this wilderness and reach the city. Once there, the group was not a necessity to him. The man could leave descreetly if he so wished, and never return; after all, the "Faithful" were sailing away. It did not matter, really. They didn't want him anyway.
|