Re: Chapter 1: Winter Everlasting - Part 2: Bryn Shander
Throughout the evening, before everyone retreated to their rooms, Moyrah sat over her drink in contemplation. As with many of the others, something was clearly weighing on her, though when prodded she would brush it off as a long days' weariness. Perhaps some had realized that she had intended to leave that very night. Moyrah had not made up her mind yet — while she considered her quest important, there was something of value here, in this inn, that she was reluctant to part with.
And so it came to be that it was not she who left, but another.
With footsteps silent enough to barely grab Astre's attention, Torgrim was gone. The Tressym was not the only one privy to his exit, for in the door frame the Fisherman manifested. He took on a full shape, proud and tall, his beard undulating with the wisps of his makeup. The sleeves of his tunic, slightly wet from Ethereal rain and splashes, were rolled up, revealing immaculate tattoos.
"Thank you," his voice clang, and a strong, ghostly hand faced Torgrim, "for allowing me this closure." Of course, no physical contact could take place, but that did not stop the Fisherman from pantomiming the handshake, another phantom hand wrapping itself atop. He smiled sincerely of gratitude. And then, with the cold winter night awaiting him, no more words were exchanged. The Fisherman dispersed in Torgrim's grasp, now on his way to the Fugue Plane. To the spirit the journey would seem instantaneous, but he would not arrive before two or three months had passed on the Prime Material. From there, he would enter the realm of the deity to whom he had been faithful.
Though with one soul shepherded, another still awaited. The Cobbler would go on to haunt Torgrim for a long, long time.