Euotioa Fallen Lands Draft Chapter 8

Euotioa Fallen Lands

Draft Chapter 8

         The lower North Bay had a reputation for wrong doing. There were no shipping docks there, save for the nest of underground havens criminal sorts had dug up. Respectable goods came from the upper harbors of Jalfein and Briddlesworth. Spices, toys, trinkets, foreign foods as well as diplomats and immigrants of all kind. The lower North Bay held the opposite. Thieves, drugs cooked in filthy pots, prostitues, murderers and smugglers who murdered, foreign contraband, and a number of "mysterious shark attack survivors" who had been fortunate to wash up on shore. Which is why no one paid any particular mind to the man who was gently carried by the waves onto the sand, lifeless as algae.
         He rose gently, coated in all manner of sea life and trash. If he wasn't dead, he moved as if already dying. The figure stood on his feet, gently wobbling to shore. He moved like an adult baby just growing his legs for land. A band of robbers watched from the rocks; he looked harmless, not only that, but useless. A languid drunk coming back from a swim. There was no use harassing him, for if he had any money it'd be spent on booze already. The figure drifted past the rocks onto the grasses. There he continued, seemingly undistrubed in no direction. His clothes were ragged and torn, showing pale, scratched skin. Under his hat were glazed, emtpy eyes of black. Now he reached Pslatheim, the nearest town. Still, no one gave him attention.
         It was only when he reached Canctun, a town located in the upper black districts, was he first noticed. "Hey handsome, come sit down for a spell!" The prostitue was glad the figure ignored her; at a glance he was indeed not handsome. Plus he stank like a corpse. All the while as he walked, the figure was shouted at. Buy this, come in and try that. He was only screamed at, not fully engaged. On and on he ignored the seedy citizens offering him the distasteful pleasures Euotioa. "What's in the pockets, friend?" came a vagabond's voice. The firgure stopped only for a second. The robber in front of him held a dull knife. "Hey, you hear me shit for brains? Turn out your pockets!" The figure raised his head and simply reached out towards the robber. "Hey, don't try anything-AGGHHH!" Now, all eyes were upon the figure as he pushed his fingers into the man's skull through the eyesockets. The robber continiued to howl in pain and thrusted his knife into the figure's stomach. The figure grunted as if he'd only stubbed his toe. He then pulled out the knife and stuck it into his victim's throaght. The man didn't take the knife as well.
         The man's blood added another eery layer to the figure's displaced looks. No one else bothered him in Canctun or in the following black districts he traveled through.