He’d caught wind of what was happening on the surface. A storm long awaited by the humans had finally arrived, flushing out the sewers, and bringing Trollmarket to a near standstill. But even if nobody had let on to the fact that the heavens were currently open, he’d have known. It’s part of what comes with living in a place for centuries; you eventually notice the very subtle idiosyncrasies of the surface just by paying attention to the changes beneath it.
The perfect time to get away from everything, a rare occasion for a warrior like Draal; but one which he felt he needed about now. And what better time to do it than in a storm? The constant drone of pouring rain on concrete a perfect accompaniment for some minor mental cleansing.
There he leaned, beneath the struts of the road bridge, stood in quiet contemplation in the hope that he’d have at least a couple of minutes of quiet before he was summoned to run yet another errand.