[Bloodstalker]

Bloodstalker rose from his bed and moved sluggishly to the desk on the opposite side of his room, still trying to shake off the last tendrils of sleep that clung to his mind. The long road out of Icewind Dale had taken more out of him than he had realized, and the few quiet days he'd been counting on spending in Windhaven before hitting the trail again seemed to be out of the question. Not that it should have been a surprise he mused to himself. If there was one thing he'd come to terms with over the past few years, it was that he had the uncanny ability to arrive anywhere just as things were about to go all to hell.

Leaning over the washbasin, he splashed the cold liquid onto his face, letting the sudden chill cut through his drowsiness. Wiping his face on a handtowel, he raised his gaze to the mirror. It always amazed him that he didn't look older than his thirty-one years. Save for a few lines around the eyes, he still looked like he always had, sharp blue eyes peering back at him from a tanned and weatherbeaten face that was framed by his long dark hair. Taking into consideration the turmoil that had accompanied his life up until a few years ago, it seemed almost out of place to see the visage that stared back at him.

Shaking his head to clear such thoughts from his mind, he walked toward the door that lead to the balcony, stepping through it and into the bright morning sun. A gentle breeze played at the fabric of his open shirt, rippling across his skin as a complement to the morning sun bathing him in it's warm comfort. He closed his eyes, for a moment forgetting the dark shadows of gathering orcs, or the lingering spectres of a past that he had already come to terms with and letting the sounds of a town coming to life settle into his hearing. It wasn't often that he had the opportunity to bask in such things, and for a long time had purposly avoided any exposure to civilization, but now he found content in the ordinary sounds that greeted him. For most he supposed it would seem odd, but the sounds of such mundane things as a broom sweeping the walkway below him, the occasional horse and carriage winding it's way down the street, the cries of protest as some child was chased out of some type of mischief by an incensed adult, along with a miriad of others melded into a peaceful calm that belied the ouside circumstances that were fast gathering on the horizen.

The thought was enough to break his reverie and force him back into the problems of the day. While he may no longer be captive to the hold of his past as he once was, the present demanded his attention, and for all his outward complaining about his ill luck in arriving, BS knew that this was what he was made for. He didn't view his past in the same dark light as he once had, preferring to focus on the way it had prepared him for his current life. While he had no desire to ever revist it, he also accepted that circumstance had forged him into the person he was today. Mistakes, tragedy, all of it had given him unique talents with which to work, and while he would never be comfortable with the way fate had chosen to bestow those gifts, he was able now to be grateful for the opportunity to put them to good use.

Turning back into the room, he began to buckle on his leather armor. Many warriors would frown on leather in place of plate, but BS preferred the greater range of motion and freedom of movement it provided. Besides, Plate mail was simply hot, and being from the Spine, he preferred not to have to deal with the added discomfort. He still wasn't totally adjusted to the warmer climate after his last extended stay in the Dale, so he saw no reason to change his opinion at the moment.

Armored, he turned his attention to his weapons, first inspecting each of the two throwing daggers for wear before attaching them to his bracers. While they weren't his primary means of defense, in a pinch they had served him well at times in the past, and he wanted to be sure they were in condition to do so should the need arise again.

Satisfied, he turnined his attention to the bastard sword that lay in it's sheath across the foot of the bed. Pulling Striker from it's encasing, he took great care in inspecting the blade. While enchanted, and as such the edge would never dull, he took his time inspecting the blade just in case. He'd never been overly trustful of magic, and every morning and night made sure the blade showed no signs of anything that could result in rust or a crack in the pomell jewel that housed it's true power. While he seldom employed the jewel as it had a very disconcerting effect, and the normal enchantments allowed the blade to breach a few protective spells on it's own with each strike, there were times that the ability to cast Spellstrike had saved his life regardless of the pain it induced, not to mention the three day recharge time spent to ready for another cast.

Satisfied with his equipment, BS slung the sheath across his back and stepped out the door. He wanted to catch Delin before the day was too far gone, and was interested to see if any of the information he'd gleaned from Setanta and Snirf the night before would help put things in a better light.