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Post by Mike/Rolaka on Jul 29, 2021 23:11:55 GMT -6
The Milk Bar, it always starts in the bar. Mike sat at the counter ordering a second round of fresh Romani Milk. The condensation beaded up on the mug from it's cold contents. All but one stool at the counter seated a patron. It was happy hour at the bar, and nearly half the men in Clock Town was in the house. The sounds of chatter and clinking mugs and laughter created an air of reverie in this modest corner bar. Mike knocked back the next sip from his mug, and the rich refreshing drink swam down his gullet. Romani Milk always had a certain quality to it, and this quality made Mike slightly numb in the face. During his time in the Hyrule Guard, Mike never once imbibed in special drinks or drugs... but those days are gone, and so are the restrictions attached. It was only his first time in this den of such repute. However, despite his deliberately lonely living, he felt an odd sense of belonging in this place. If Mike could see the faces of the patrons, he would surely have seen bright eyes and big smiles.
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Jul 29, 2021 23:51:18 GMT -6
The doors to the milk bar swung open, the hinge squealing in protest. Anauis, dressed in his usual nondescript white tunic and brown shorts, and not a thing on his (incredibly dirty) feet, sauntered up to the bar with a smile on his face. It was a genuine, joyous smile, for he had just returned from his first trip to his old orphanage in months, and the gracious spirit of his old home filled him with delight. The Milk Bar was his first stop after returning. Inside he witnessed the merriment of the patrons, sipping the famous milk and laughing gaily with their companions. It was a wonderful sight to behold. Upon reaching the bar Anaius plopped himself down next to a rather grizzled looking man with a grey cloth covering his eyes. Aniaus paused momentarily, scanning the man curiously. The cloth looked aged, indicating he'd been blind for some time. Not only did this intrigue him, but the entire air about the man, his ambience, was utterly captivating. It was as if he'd lived through entire ages of Hyrule and Termina. Anaius couldn't resist. He must know more. But before he could touch the man the bartender harkened him, "What are you drinking, lad?" he asked in a baritone. The sudden interruption stole Anaius from his current obsession, and he addressed the bartender. "One of your finest glasses of milk, please," he replied. The bartender grunted and wandered away. But yet again, before Anaius could siphon the memories of this interesting stranger, the doors to the Milk Bar burst open with a crash, and five burly looking men, dressed in similar garb, maroon tunics with black pants, and all wearing gold earrings of majoras mask. They looked rather menacing, actually. All of them were standing with offensive body language as if they were ready for a fight at any moment, or perhaps like they meant to start one at any moment. The one in the forefront, presumably the leader by the golden insignia of a gauntlet pinned to his tunic.
The entire bar fell silent. A cloth sack hitched to the belt of the leader was soaked in red and dripping onto the wooden floor. After a good intimidating second of snarling at the patrons, the leader of stomped up to the bar directly in between Anaius and the man with the blindfold. He practically shoved Anaius out of the way in doing so. No matter, thought Anaius, this is the most interesting thing to have happened on his entire trip back to Termina. By now the bartender had returned with his Milk, placing it onto the bar top a little harder than he meant to. A bit of milk sloshed over the edge and pooled around the base of the mug. Upon seeing the men at the bar, the bartender brightened up a little. "So? Is it done? Have you killed the beast?"
"Aye," said the leader, and he unfastened the dripping sack from his belt and slammed it atop the bar. A gleeful expression donned the bartenders face and he hurriedly looked inside the sack.
"You did it, then!" he exclaimed. "You killed the Werewolfos! Finally, this damn thing has been haunting my bar for weeks."
"The payment," growled the merc leader.
"Yes, of course, one moment." And the bartender began to turn away.
But this was all to much for Anaius, the curiosity was killing him. These men had slain a werewolfos? How incredible! Without thinking, Anaius placed a had upon the bleeding sack in front of him, and a rush of memories flooded into him.
When they subsided, all he felt was disappointment, for all the scenes playing in his mind were of a regular, uninteresing, wolfos. These men were lying.
"This isn't a werewolfos," he said without thinking. "Its just a boring old wolfos."
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Post by Mike/Rolaka on Jul 30, 2021 0:19:19 GMT -6
Mike could smell the aroma of the burly men who forced their way to his side. The smell of blood of unmistakable, a Wolfos had indeed been killed. Mike turned his head towards the mercenaries, and his heightened sense of smell revealed more lies. There were hardly any odors from these "mercs". Taking down a Werewolfos, even with five men, is a dangerous task. What were these charlatans playing at? Mike chimed in, "And shouldn't you all be reeking of sweat and adrenaline? What, did you kill it while it was sleeping? Or did you steal a hunter's bounty?" As a former man of the Guard, Mike had no love for treacherous mercenaries. He turned his face back at the bar."How much are you paying them to lie to you?", Mike asked the bartender.
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Jul 30, 2021 0:40:54 GMT -6
Waves of emotion passed over the leader's face. First shock, then fury, and finally indignation, "How dare you question our integrity!" Shouted the leader. "This here is a trophy from none other than a rare werewolfos! We hunted and killed it fair and square, get your own bounty, scum!" And he shoved Anaius backward a little. It was meant to be intimidating, but because Anaius knew the truth, it was merely pathetic.
"Come now, gentlemen." Anaius replied, stepping foreword to meet the head mercenary. "Both I and this man know you to be false." he gestured the fellow with the blindfold, who had also spoken up about the deceit. The leader whirled on the blind man in a fury, "What does he know!" he bellowed, "The bastards blind. Ain't no way he can smell a godsdamned thing! He's bluffing!" Rage seethed from the man, and his cronies behind him were getting restless. Either they knew the game was close to being up, or they were itching for a fight. Anaius couldn't tell which. Either way, the patrons could smell trouble, and the bar was beginning to empty.
Now the leader turned his attention to the bartender. "These idiots don't know what they're talking about. We slayed the werewolfos, now give us our payment, or we'll take it out on your bar, and then you!"
During the entire debacle, the bartender looked bewildered. The head inside the bag looked to be real, but he'd also never seen a regular wolfos either. Could these men be duping him? Why would these two strangers speak up if they weren't? What did they have to gain from such an accusation? "I..I..Uhh.." the bartender stammered. "Please, not my bar."
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Post by Mike/Rolaka on Jul 30, 2021 18:07:10 GMT -6
At this point, Mike was fed up with these so-called "mercenaries". First they kill the whole mood, then they threaten the bartender. Mike stood up from his stool, "You don't get paid until you finish the job. And if this sack does contain the head of your mark, I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I confirm it first?" He grabbed the bag and fiddled with the string. "After all, you can't claim your chips unless you show your cards."
The leader's expression turned to panic, he silently ordered one of his men to attack Mike. The man picked up a chair from a nearby table and prepared to swing. Mike could hear the small groan of the legs across the wooden floor and the steps the merc made towards him. In a quick fluid motion, Mike grabbed the sack by the sides, lifted it over his head, spun around, and chucked the sack-covered head at his assailant. The sack crashed against the mercs skull and knocked him down, dropping his chair. The bag fell to the floor next to the prone man, its strings still tied.
The leader growled and stepped in front of Mike. "You're gonna regret that pipsqueak!" he shouted, buffing out his chest to sound tough. Mike believed the man to be at least 6 foot, but the angered grumblings of the leader betrayed his true height.
"Pipsqueak? You are no taller than I," Mike replied calmly, with a slight air of mockery. With this information, Mike grabbed his half-full mug of Romani Milk and splashed it into the leader's face. As the mercenary cried out and rubbed his eyes, Mike pinpointed where the leader's voice came from and threw a punch square at the bastard's jaw. He could feel the leader's jawline meet his fist and the merc tumbled backward on top of his subordinate.
The three standing mercenaries could only watch in wide-eyed amazement as their leader was bested by a blind man. All six eyes watched Mike as he tilted his head and cracked his neck, as if he was saying "Who's next?"
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Jul 30, 2021 20:01:33 GMT -6
Anaius raised his eyebrows at the sudden outburst of violence. He wasn't exactly surprised it had come to this, but he'd be a liar if he didn't admit he doubted the blind man's acuity for it. His newest acquaintance (though he didn't know it yet) had just become exponentially more interesting. Anaius took a step back as the leader came toppling onto his crony. The room suddenly felt smaller with all the commotion. Anaius hadn't been in many fights. Just or unjust, or plain unlucky ones, but he did have some hand to hand experience from some of the minds he'd pilfered over the years. Growls of clichés like "how dare you!" and "you're gonna pay for that!" issued forth from the remaining men standing. Anaius rolled his eyes but smiled at their effort. At least they were trying to be menacing. Before they could jump the blind man, Anaius made up his mind and decided that he should enter the fight as well. It just wouldn't do for him to stand by and let these buffoons assault a blind person, even if he could apparently hold his own. So he stepped up behind the nearest vagabond and aimed a clumsy kick at the back of his right knee. There was enough force behind it to send him down, and Anaius wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the bandit in a choke hold. He applied the appropriate pressure while the man flailed about, desperately attempting to free himself. It was no use, however, in a few moments the man was as limp as a his leader's courage.
The others were too focused on the blind man to notice Anaius had just reduced their numbers, and he took this opportunity to reach over to the bar and grab his mug of milk. The leader and the lacky he had fallen onto were now scrambling to their feet. So Anaius first emptied his milk out on top of them and then cracked the mug over the leaders head. The first blow merely angered him, and he shouted curses and expletives while reaching a hand up to the now rising goose egg. Anaius rapped him once more atop the head, this time a little harder, and the leader did not rise again. His companion was now back to his feet, fixed upon Anaius like a predator to prey. He reached for his belt and withdrew a small dagger and pointed it at Anaius. "I'm gonna gut you for that," he barked.
Anaius looked down at his wrecked mug. He'd bashed it over the leader's head so hard all he held in his hand was the handle.
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Post by Mike/Rolaka on Jul 30, 2021 20:47:55 GMT -6
As the remaining men rushed Mike, he dashed between them and they collided with the counter. Mike heard the flailings of another man to his side. Had this curious stranger stepped in? As the other two goons collected themselves from the counter, Mike brandished himself a chair. They lunged at him one after the other, Mike counted their steps and swung the chair accordingly. The furnishing smashed against the first merc's ribcage and he toppled to the floor gasping for air. The second man reached Mike and grappled him by the head and shoulder. Mike dropped the chair and delivered a quick jab to the man's stomach. As the goon's grip gave way, Mike reached out to the man's head and forced it down onto Mike's knee. The impact left the lacky in a daze, during which time the leader had been dispatched by the stranger. Mike heard the draw of a dagger from it's sheath, and the threat from it's owner's lips. He could tell that the threat was aimed at this unknown ally, whom Mike could not assume was armed. Mike stepped over to where the threat originated and pulled out one of his Gilded Swords from underneath his cloak. Mike held out the blade in the space between the merc and Anaius. "I would reconsider that statement," Mike warned. "If your team couldn't take on a Werewolfos, then YOU can't hope to defeat us." Mike heard the lone mercenary take a step back. The man was weighing his options, and clearly understood Mike's words. "Hey bossman," he called to the leader. "Are you still conscious?"
There was no reply. Only the pained groaning of the defeated group. Mike re-centered his attention back to the dagger-wielder. "Seems your boss is incapacitated. The wisest course of action now would be to pick up the wounded and go back to your camp. Unless you REALLY want to dance this dance," Mike said as he performed a small flourish with his blade.
"Uhhhh," the lone merc squeaked. Mike could hear the faint tremblings in the man's clothes. "S-sure whatever you say, just don't kill us," he put away the dagger and helped his conscious brethren to their feet. They lifted the unconscious ones over their shoulders and made a quick exit from the bar.
"AND DON'T YOU DARE THINK OF COMING BACK!" Mike barked as the men retreated. A tone of voice he had not used since his days in the Guard.
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Jul 30, 2021 21:33:56 GMT -6
"Well done, friend!" Anaius said with a grin. Before he could inquire about the man, the bartender rose, trembling from behind his bar. He looked about him at the spilled milk, shattered mug, tossed chairs, and general disarray of his once pristine bar. "M-my bar, its a mess." He wailed. "My patrons are gone, and those damn mercenaries tried to cheat me!"
Anaius looked sheepishly about him, "Ah, yes, sorry about the mess barkeep. Twas forced upon us by those loathsome gentlemen. I'm sure you can understand. As for this," he bent down and picked up the reeking sack. It had stopped dripping, and the blood was now beginning to congeal and dry out on the bag. Anaius untied the string and reached a hand in without so much as flinching. He withdrew a the stale head of a common wolfos. "They indeed cheated you. Sorry about that too." Curiosity tugged at his mind and he stepped over to the bar. He placed the head back in the bag and moved it off to the side before leaning in casually to ask, "How much were you going to pay those imbeciles for the dispatch of this werewolfos?"
"Three hundred rupees," the barkeep replied. Anaius raised his eyebrows and whistled. That was a lot of dough. Money was never a huge motivator for him, though. He much preferred pursuing causes for the adventure and experience. The money was only an added benefit. And this adventure, it seemed to him, was far too great to pass up, especially with an introduction like this one. It was decided then. He would implore the help of this blind stranger and the two of them would hunt this werewolfos down for this hapless bartender. A look of joyous determination set into Anaius's face and he swung round to face the blind man.
"Come, friend! Sit with me at the bar that we may hear the story of this werewolfos's terrorization. What say you in aiding this poor fellow here?" Anaius returned to facing the bartender. "Barkeep! Two more of your finest glasses of Milk, please! And tell us the tale of your woes! You may yet be in luck for some assistance."
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Post by Mike/Rolaka on Aug 3, 2021 21:28:42 GMT -6
"Alright," Mike replied, sheathing his sword. "Tell us about this contract." Mike picked up a stool from the floor and sat himself at the bar next to Anaius.
The bartender produced two fresh mugs from behind the counter and went to the keg on the back wall. He turned the spigot and cold refreshing milk poured smoothly into the mugs. "It all started about a month and a half ago," the bartender began. "One morning at the ranch, a cow was found dead in the pasture. The barn door was wide open, someone had forgotten to lock it the night before."
The mugs were filled to their brims, bubbles slowly flowed over and down the sides. The bartender served them their drinks and continued, "The cow had looked mangled, like something had ripped it apart and feasted on it right there. No one knew exactly what it could have been. Some of the farmhands suggested it was a werewolfos, but hardly anyone believed them. No one has seen hide nor hair of a lycanthrope in these parts for generations."
Mike took a few light swigs, "So, how do we know for certain it's a werewolfos now?" he asked.
"Two weeks later, another cow turned up dead. Mangled and torn the same way. Only this time the barn door was assuredly closed, and reinforced with chains. The chains were broken, and the barn door was splintered with claw marks. Whatever did it, it broke into the barn and could drag out a fully-grown cow by itself. Sure enough, an investigation is called. But since no one really believed it could be a werewolfos, the investigation was slow. So slow, that the beast struck again almost two weeks ago."
The bartender paced back and forth, fidgeting with his hands, "It almost caught the farmer's daughter at dusk. An 8-year old girl, nearly devoured. Luckily for her, a farmhand had jumped in and rescued her... sadly, for the man, he was ripped apart right in front of her. By the time she could run away, the beast had been sated and ducked back into the woods. No one but her had seen it."
Mike threw back his head and emptied the last few drops of milk from his mug to his mouth. "Ahhh... So, how did you end up with that gaggle of half-wits?" He asked, pointing backwards with his thumb towards the door.
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Aug 3, 2021 22:00:37 GMT -6
The bartender chuckled and produced a rag from underneath the bar. He began wiping down the bar top while saying, "After the mauling of the farmhand, we put a bounty on the beast, though few ever asked about it. Who in their right mind would willingly hunt a werewolfos? At first, we offered a hundred rupee reward for the killing or driving off of the it, but after a few weeks, and couple more dead cows, we upped it to three hundred. That's when those idiots showed up. They talked like they knew exactly what they were doing, like they'd been hunting monsters for a living and this was easy money. Of course, little did we know they were just swindlers looking for a quick buck. They never had any intention of saving my bar, I know that now." The bartender shook his head remorsefully, "Gah, I feel like an idiot. I should have seen right through their act, but I was so desperate to be rid of the beast. I thought maybe they were for real."
"Come now, barkeep, these men were professional swindlers. You could not have foreseen their treachery with such a weighted conscience." Anaius said in an attempt to console the bartender.
"Aye, perhaps you're right, but still. I'd have been out three hundred rupees and still have a werewolfos terrorizing my farm if it weren't for you two. This round of milk is on me."
"Many thanks," replied Anaius, lifting his mug to the sky before draining it in one gulp.
After so much dark and dangerous talk, Anaius felt quite adventurous, even inspired. He was in need of a good story, so he turned to his blind friend and said, "What do you say we track down this beast, friend? We can divvy the cut fifty-fifty."
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Post by Mike/Rolaka on Aug 3, 2021 22:29:25 GMT -6
"Sounds good, let's do it," Mike replied immediately. This was a strange feeling, Mike had not normally been so quick to agree to such dangerous work. He needed a plan, or time to prepare troops and weapons. But now, he had no troops, and the only weapons he had left were on his person. Had the solitary life taken a toll on him? "I mean," Mike collected himself and addressed the bartender. "You've seen what we can do. So believe me when I say we will get this done. Which way is the ranch from here?"
"Head southwest out of Clock Town until you reach the Milk Road. Follow the road west until you reach the ranch. Should only take a few hours on horseback," the bartender explained, pointing his fingers with the directions.
"Excellent," Mike replied. He turned his head to Anaius, "You wouldn't happen to have a horse, would you sir?"
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Aug 4, 2021 20:24:04 GMT -6
The bartender brightened up considerably after Anaius and his new companion agreed to free him of the werewolfos. "This is great news!" he said with a jovial smile. "Thank you, kind strangers, for offering me your kindness."
His blind companion then asked about directions, and the barkeep obliged.
Anaius shook his head at the inquiry of a horse, "Regretfully, I do not. I let my own to feet do the travelling as I'm very fond of feeling the earth beneath me. Tis also why I don't bother with footwear." he replied lifting his foot a little and looked down at them. They were filthy, seasoned feet that wore the stains and scars of a well traveled man. "Say," he said, turning back to the bartender, "You wouldn't happen to have a couple horses to lend us, would you? You could take it out of our reward if need be."
"Ah, no." the barkeep replied. "Though there is a carriage for hire not far along the road. They'll be able to take you there."
"Thank you, friend. Now we must take out leave, we bid you farewell and hope to collect on this bounty as soon as possible. Stay safe, now." Anaius stood up from the bar and turned to the blind man.
"And we're off! How exciting! I do so love a good adventure. Come," he started for the exit, "let us hire this carriage."
As the two of them left the Milk Bar and headed in the direction of the carriage, a thought struck Anaius like a hammer blow to the back of the head. How could he have been so inconsiderate!?
"I say," he exclaimed rather loudly, "I do believe I have failed to inquire about your name, friend. Tell me, what is it you go by?"
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Post by Mike/Rolaka on Aug 4, 2021 20:53:17 GMT -6
"My name is Mike. I live up in the Snowhead Region. A quiet cottage, perfect for a former guardsmen like myself," Mike said, as the ambled over to the stage post. "And yours?" Mike asked. The stranger provided his name,"...Anaius,", Mike repeated in order to confirm the pronunciation.
Luckily, a stagecoach was already on it's way down the street and came to a halt at the post. The large wagon was a typical brown color, with thin white curtains on the inside of it's large windows. The doors swung open and four common citizens departed, it seemed this transit system charged a fair rate. As the passengers walked away into the crowds of Clock Town, Mike called out to the coachman, "The two of us to Romani Ranch, please."
"Yessirs," said the coachman, tipping his hat. "That'll be 10 Rupees each."
Mike followed the coachman's voice and pulled a single yellow rupee from his wallet, as did Anaius. The driver accepted their payment, and they climbed into the coach's interior. The seats were made of a decent leather, if a bit tattered and worn, and provided good comfort on the ride.
As the coach pulled away and headed for the South Gate, Mike asked, "Tell me about yourself, Anaius. And how did you figure out those mercs were faking it?"
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Aug 4, 2021 21:43:26 GMT -6
Anaius smiled back at Mike even though he could not see it. "I like to think myself an adventurer, though from my origins one would not guess that to be my fate. I grew up in an orphanage until the age of eleven, left there as a infant. I loved and hated that place, for it was both kind and harsh to me. Many of the children there have become lifelong friends, some enemies. I still return there every year or so when time permits, for I owe a great debt to the woman who runs it, Ms. Haniva." Anaius eyes glazed over and he stared into the distance for a moment. A wave of mixed emotions along with images of his upbringing flooded his mind. It was several seconds before he continued. "Anyway, shortly after my eleventh birthday, a jolly yet suspicious old man attempted to procure my well being for his own, and began the process of adoption. I was having none of it, however. This old man struck me as dubious and his intentions spurious. I hid away in my room and refused to leave with him. That was until he sent me this," Anaius reached a hand under the collar of his tunic and withdrew his mothers necklace of Nayru. He knew Mike would not be able to see it, so he took Mike's hand in his own and placed the necklace within it. "It was my mothers. This I knew from the only surviving photo I have of her that was left with me when I arrived at the orphanage. Listen to me," he chuckled, "Prattling on about my childhood like some poor sap." He gave Mike a few moments to feel the pendant on the necklace then took it back from him. He placed it back around his neck and continued. "Do forgive me, but you did ask. Anyway, turns out he was an old family friend taking care of my deceased parents estate. Said he was keeping me at the orphanage for my own good." Anaius cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. He didn't know why he was revealing so much to Mike, but he didn't mind much. It was rare he ever got to talk about himself. It was time to change the subject, though, for he was beginning to bore himself. If Mike were to inquire further, perhaps he would oblige, but for now he felt the need to stop. "I do believe you inquired about how I could have possibly known the wolfos head in that bag was a mere wolfos and not the requisite werewolfos. I would explain, but I do not wish to bore you with any more storytelling, so allow me to show you instead."
Anaius leaned over and touched a single finger to Mike's forehead. In a flash of memories and images Anaius saw all of who Mike was in an instant, from his orphaned childhood, to his upbringing in the Hylian Guard. He witnessed his achievement of captain at the young age of eighteen, to his demise at the hands of the demon child who blinded him, effectively ousting him from the guard.
After this was over, Anaius sat back and recounted his findings to Mike with great detail.
"And that," Anaius finished, "Is how I knew the werewoflos head was false."
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Post by Mike/Rolaka on Aug 4, 2021 22:25:26 GMT -6
As Mike felt the pendant in his hands, he could feel the distinct shape of Nayru's symbol that it was fashioned into. His mother must have been a wise woman, Mike thought.
When Anaius placed his finger on Mike's forehead, Mike felt his mind become hazy. Then, as clear as day, he could see all of the places and events he had seen and participated in throughout his life. All of these moments flashed and flowed through his mind like a raging river. From his tutelage in the Guard, to his missions in Hyrule and Termina, and beyond, to the violent battle which had taken his sight. Mike's whole life felt lived over again in the span of a few seconds. When the fog in his mind cleared, Mike felt another 20 years older.
"Huh?! What the... the Hell was that?" Mike's breathing was heavy, and he placed a hand against his head. Some of those memories he'd wished he forgotten. As Anaius explained what had just transpired, Mike began to better understand how Anaius was able to expose the mercenaries. "That is a very useful power indeed, though I do feel a bit exposed after that. You know about me now all there is to know," Mike said, shaking his head.
Mike had considered mentioning his current predicament in life. His conflicting feelings for his lonesome living, his deep-seeded anger over the events and aftermath of his blinding, even his life's purpose. But Mike had only just met Anaius, and it seemed that this new character only understood his memories, not his emotions. In addition, Anaius did not quite explain his past or purpose fully, and therefore Mike elected not to either.
As the vast plains of Termina Field gave way to the cramped Milk Road, Mike could no longer feel the sun's rays anywhere in the stagecoach, and he could feel the temperature drop. The night was drawing nearer. The vehicle came to a stop, and the coachman called "We have arrived at Romani Ranch!"
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