♥ - Is there an opponent they’ve fought they’ve grown particularly attached to, love or hate?
"He's still out there ya know?"
"Hmm?" Eld perked up from his spot on the rampart, his eyes weary and face grim as it ever was to match the coming night.
Rainer raised his hand to motion off to the western sinking sun and the woods that stretched for miles into the Crimson. "You know who I speak of."
Eld would grunt to the guard as he looked into the floating leaves of his tea. "The Fredman."
"Aye, him," Rainer nodded softly as he pulled his pipe to his mouth and puffed softly as he kept his eyes steady on the horizon.
"How many?" Eld asked in a tone to match his face.
The guardsman would shake his head now as he leaned into the stone, letting the hot smoke fill his mouth to ward off the autumn cold. "Three last month."
The witch hunter would grunt as sipped at his hot tea, the images of past crimes by the notorious cultist boogeyman that haunted the Drustvar countryside. For years Eld had hunted him, faced, fought him, and still for as close they came to finally ending one or the other the Fredman still remained. Still hunted.
Still killing.
"Glad yer back, inquisitor."
Eld shook his head as he dumped out his tea over the wall, his eyes following the cascading flashing liquid. "Not the homecoming I wanted."
Rainer thought to say something more, but kept his silence as the pair of soldiers watched the sun set.
@damien-ward
