Chrystopheles had no real reason to be in the area. Outside of Guild business, the God of Rocks' Golden God Mining Co. saw to it that he rarely left Lyrwick. Also, supply runs like this were more suited to the landers that desperately clung to his employment despite the rumbling sentiments that were unearthed by the battle with Szofrit though still buried out of need. After all, not everyone can feed their family with misdirected righteousness.
Yet this was not the first time Chrys had been in the area, not even in the past few months since that war with the Mother of Machines. Brisshal was a humongous forested territory that was split between two kingdoms: Astorea, whose sovereignty covers the western half, and Falderen, to whom this eastern half belongs. The difference between the two halves had always been attached to how peaceful the eastern part was compared to its western twin. But that was all before the aforementioned war, the recent battle that exposed certain divisions, differences in philosophies and even priorities.
On his wagon, the cloaked adventurer savored the cooling winds from the different woodlands that had through the years merged into this one giant but integrated ecosystem. He sat next to his most trusted coachman, an elderly, one-eyed bastard aptly named Patch. Because he wore an eyepatch to cover the gaping hole that was his missing eye. Chrys and Patch both relished the mild weather and the rich forest biodiversity as exemplified by the wide variety of beasts that stalked them from the undergrowth, from behind the trees, and from the branches with their chirps and growls and wild breathing.
This location used to serve as a safe starting point for players, with a shooting star even heralding a new arrival. That's why they were called Starcalled, Chrys believed. Because they were supposedly called from the stars. Of course that was a load of crap. Chrys didn't come from the stars. Nor did he have any connection to the skies. Chrys was a slimy, smarmy lawyer, internationally renowned and highly touted due mostly to his gray morals and his large list of dubious clientele ranging from annoying and useless celebrities to alleged criminals. Pro bono no pay the rent-o.
Yet this starting point was no longer safe, the new arrivals endangered by their own approach, as infuriated Falderen patrols made sure they were welcomed not warmly but wrathfully. The last time Chrys was here, he was with an old friend, a fiery fighter who had decided to join him on a whim. That friend had a friend, who had gone missing, the same foolish faerin he had saved months ago from incarceration. Now the same faerin was foolishly playing the vigilante, with Chrys hoping to meet him again in order to save his life.
Little did he know, he was about to meet someone else, someone new.
@Alaric
