Post by Jarrow on Apr 9, 2015 18:46:27 GMT -5
Sunset.
Evening.
Twilight.
Midnight.
The night was wasting away.
Jarrow cursed inwardly as his Horde guest remained in his home. Supping his wine, eating his food, satiating themselves on the luxuries of his centuries long unlife. It struck Jarrow that as much as entertaining the Horde magi elite was necessary, it angered him to no end that these fools were the ones with power. And he had been snubbed once again. His true guest, a Horseman of the High Lord, had sent word that they would attend his manor tonight. But the time for the Horseman's arrival had long since come and past. And yet these prelates remained. It was as if they knew and continued to insult him by staying.
Quietly, he stood and removed himself from the large dinning room. The servants would continue to host his guest - Jarrow had no more desire to be with them. As silent as death, he moved through the large Greenwich Village home to the darker, less decorated chambers. Where the Horde mages partied was furnished with all the trappings that a living creature would need. But here, in his private wing, Jarrow could set in the single chair of his empty, unlit master bedroom, where even the windows were sealed with stone and mortar. In the darkness, Jarrow let his anger seethe out from him, the better to not unleash his frenzy on his mortal guests. The messenger who had come with news of the Horseman would pay dearly for the insult laid upon him this night. But not now. Now he was too hungry. His mind drifted back to his last feeding, with the girl from the Pens. Perhaps he would order another meal tonight.
It was only then, stirred from his deep thoughts, that Jarrow realised he was not alone.
Evening.
Twilight.
Midnight.
The night was wasting away.
Jarrow cursed inwardly as his Horde guest remained in his home. Supping his wine, eating his food, satiating themselves on the luxuries of his centuries long unlife. It struck Jarrow that as much as entertaining the Horde magi elite was necessary, it angered him to no end that these fools were the ones with power. And he had been snubbed once again. His true guest, a Horseman of the High Lord, had sent word that they would attend his manor tonight. But the time for the Horseman's arrival had long since come and past. And yet these prelates remained. It was as if they knew and continued to insult him by staying.
Quietly, he stood and removed himself from the large dinning room. The servants would continue to host his guest - Jarrow had no more desire to be with them. As silent as death, he moved through the large Greenwich Village home to the darker, less decorated chambers. Where the Horde mages partied was furnished with all the trappings that a living creature would need. But here, in his private wing, Jarrow could set in the single chair of his empty, unlit master bedroom, where even the windows were sealed with stone and mortar. In the darkness, Jarrow let his anger seethe out from him, the better to not unleash his frenzy on his mortal guests. The messenger who had come with news of the Horseman would pay dearly for the insult laid upon him this night. But not now. Now he was too hungry. His mind drifted back to his last feeding, with the girl from the Pens. Perhaps he would order another meal tonight.
It was only then, stirred from his deep thoughts, that Jarrow realised he was not alone.
