Ashes of Homecoming.

[Damas]

It was raining cats and dogs on the Saturday evening. Nobody in Jhelom dared to set a foot outside of their dwellings, even the vagrants found somewhere to hide, lest they be ground to dust by the ever pounding raindrops.

A lone figure wrapping itself in a cloak walked at fast pace through the streets. The person’s clothes were completely and utterly wet and he felt chilled to the bone. Nobody saw him walk the the town streets during this cold, unwelcoming day. Not because of the man’s stealth skills or some magic. Simply put, nobody was looking. For one, it was hard to see through the heavy rain curtain and secondly, what interesting could happen at a day like that? Jhelom’s residents were content with their routines inside their homes.

The cloaked and utterly wet figure came to one of the town’s shops and opened its doors without knocking by thrusting his hand at the wood. When inside he simply stood in the warm light of the room and let water soak a bit out of his clothing and onto the floor.

At the other side of the room an old man sat on a workbench and carved wood, trying to shape it into something mankind could use to ease its every day labours. The old man was facing a fireplace and payed no heed to the intruder.

“Sitting with your back to door? You must completely senile now!” the intruder said.

“I heard your footsteps all the way from the moongate. You walk as subtly as a lusty orc to his lover. You smell like an orc too.”The old man replied scornfully.

“Not as senile as I have thought maybe…” the intruder muttered as he took off his still wet cloak and threw it to the corner near the door. “How’s business lately?”

“It was pretty good until you showed up, Damas. But its bound to get worse now that people saw you come here. After all, who’d visit a shop that’s frequented by the shameful Wulfmaw…” The old man took a brief pause to catch some air before contiuing but the intruder, Damas, interrupted.

“Enough. I’ve heard this countless of times from countless number of people. Enough”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have touched that topic just.” Sighed the old man.

“I’m used to it.”

“Has word of your exploits reached your mercenery company in Yew yet?”

“No. And I live in Cove at the moment.”

“Oh? So what is the once oh-so-glorious child of Jhelom doing in that backwater town? Have you gone there to rise from the ashes and use your incredible talen…”

“I don’t know.” Damas interupted again. “I don’t plan ahead anymore. Just take every day as it comes.”

A long pause followed. Damas didn’t move a step from the door and the old man did not turn to look at him, the old man didn’t even throw a glance or move his head to Damas’ direction.

“I don’t know what to say to you. When I had wisdom to share, you didn’t listen. When you would listen now, I’ve got no advice Im afraid, Damas.”

“I didn’t come here for advice or your ‘wisdom’. Just wanted to see if you’re still alright in this rotten town.”

“Here is a town of valor and honor!” The old man snapped. “If you had an inkling of either one of those, you’d not need to sneak and creep to come here, you bastard child of the Guardian!”

Damas sneered and turned to the door. Rain was still mercilessly punishing the city streets outside.

“My son, wait!..” The old man shouted. For a moment hope was born in Damas’ heart. Perhaps his father had finaly forgiven him? “You forgot your cloak. Take it, I don’t want your stench inside here”

Silently and with fatal calm Damas picked up his cloak from the corner of the room and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Nobody noticed him leave the town in the middle of the raging storm. He swore never to return.