Wrestling the feelings Val’s words stirred up, I cast my gaze out the window to attempt to ground in some normalcy. All I wanted to know was when she was going to finish her Quest, and she had dumped all this in my lap. Knowing that wasn’t an accurate reflection of events didn’t matter to me at this moment, though it would later. Trying desperately to distract myself, I zeroed in on the way that Vadrick’s blue cloak swayed as she danced among potential customers to hawk her general wares across the plaza. From close inspection, I could see that the hem was frayed and had been taken up to prolong its longevity.

Taking a deep breath I invited Yaro’s lunch offerings from down the street to crawl up my nostrils, the one of crisp duck slathered in sweet tangy sauce making my mouth salivate slightly. While I couldn’t see it, I knew there would be tiny seeds covering the final product as had been the case most times I procured kabobs from there. Imaging the texture had me running my tongue over my incisors - incisors that wanted to nash and bite from my frustration. This wasn’t working.

“I think I need to move. I would stay for more tea but I’m not fit for company anymore.” Casting a glance at Valen to confirm she understood, I rose to my full eight feet and headed out to the street. Tight muscles, itchy palms, heavy guts, and rampant irritation prodded me to seek a dry, hot, and quiet spot - and I knew just the place. Making an abrupt turn towards the street’s launch zone, I sped up and dodged around a group of adventures heading towards their Guides. As my foot touched the zone my wings snapped open and I launched sideways into the air, letting the trapped growl I had been holding escape.

I needed more distance from town before really cutting loose since I was tired of the teasing that I wasn’t a proper Drake with all my yelling, screaming and cursing. Not that any of my tormentors knew what constituted a Drake since I was usually the only one they met outside of the storied portrayals in this small town. Of course, I knew I wasn’t the representative of my kind, yet others couldn’t seem to understand their racist behavior when they assumed so. This line of thinking was also not helping settle my soul.

Letting my wings cut into the air forcefully, I continued to gain altitude and expanded my senses to check if I could now use any of my skills. With the closest flyer well out of range, I let loose my Keening Strike to the sky, pouring as much of the sadness and pain I felt into it. Thankfully, my stamina was topped off because I could tell I would be spamming Strike as the first had barely let out some of what I wanted to express healthily.

So I pumped my wings, vented my spleen, and continued heading away from the sun toward Coalwark Mountain. After a solid three glasses of this, I started my descent toward the windshorn crags. Fortunately for me, no one was currently occupying one of my favorite sunning spots so I got to stretch myself bonelessly towards the noon sun. Feeling the hollowness and fatigue after a good cry drift around my body, I shut my eyes to remember. Or maybe to forget.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I snapped my lids back open not two seconds after closing them before the fur-lined image could finish coalescing. Quickly moving on, I invested into a solid tantrum next, feet and hands smacking the ground in alternating bursts of indignation, fury and ineptitude while being gentle of my left shoulder. Only once my breathing was ragged from my exertions did I assess internally again.

I let the tingling in my limbs slowly subside as my gaze roamed between the disturbed pebbles and cracked rocks that surrounded me. Focusing in on the air that brushed across my exposed scales, I stretched to embrace the whimsy of the light late spring winds.

“That’s working,” I muttered to myself. Dredging up a sigh at the simplicity of my ways, I wondered, yet again, what would be my purpose for this immortality. Every time I sighed I thought of it and I didn’t interrupt it this time either since it felt like the perfect capstone to my recently departed anguish. Intellectually I understood that I was the one to set that purpose, but in my guts I knew that I had no say and had to just wait it out. Patience wasn’t my strong suit once I was prodded out of my mellow state of being.

Avoiding getting riled up again, I brought up my current Alchemy Quest to distract myself. As I was already out of town I might as well collect what I was missing.

Opening Quest Menu…

Current Open Crafting Quest…

Crafting Quest - Alchemy: Complete the potions and turn them into the Local Crafters Guide for verification of quality.

15 potions of minor strength - 9 of 15 complete

10 potions of minor sure shot - 10 of 10 complete

10 potions of minor duelist’s edge - 0 of 10 complete

Reward: 350 Alchemy experience, 3 mid grade herbs

I closed out the menu while thinking back to where I had last seen Ashwagandha. Doing the duelist potions next felt like the right decision as they required quite a bit of concentration and that would help me pass the time with less ability for my mind to run its own side program. Creating potions that had people shit their brains out instead of amping up their focus and reflexes would be a quick way to lose a Tier, so not only would it be absorbing work but I might actually have fun with it.

Finally remembering that I had seen the shrubs of orange-red fruits in Little Falls, I glanced towards the sun to calculate the daylight and flight times there and back to Helmsword. Since I liked the absurdity of it and was still trying to convince myself I was fine now, I went ahead and stuck a digit in my mouth for moisture and thrust it into the air to assess the wind direction and speed.

Satisfied after setting my mini-map toggle on in the left corner of my vision, I walked off the ledge and cracked my wings open to grab the updraft and start heading west towards Little Falls.