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Destroyer of (his own) worlds
Ki'ehr was sitting on a rock just outside the markets that lie on the outskirts of Phenvast City. He was far away enough from civilisation to be unnoticed by the crowd, and so he let his mind rest for the moment, his scales taking on their natural pink rather than their artificial crimson. With the pad of his thumb, he rubbed at the corner of his eye, wondering how he had gotten himself into that mess up in the snow. Ki'ehr didn't quite know, but regardless of how it began, it had ended the way it did. Which was terribly. It had been months since it had happened, and the draconian decided that what he needed was a long walk, towards somewhere nicer. The jungle wasn't quite as pleasant as he remembered it to be. Ki'ehr groaned, opening his eyes and standing up straight, and then stretched his tail, it extending rigidly behind him for a moment. It was typical jungle weather -- not all that hot, but humid as anything. The poor draconian's underclothes were soaked with sweat. Still, it kept him cool. To a degree.

He turned his attention to the city, and began walking over to it, the colour of crimson washing over his scales as if he were being bathed in blood. It washed over his face first, and then dripped down his tail, the colour following his every movement with pinpoint, practised precision. It was convenient that there was so little of him to colour -- he barely had to pay attention to the magic he was casting anymore. As he got closer and closer to the market, the sound of conversation and merchants advertising goods got louder and louder, and before he knew it, he has being singled out as a potential customer for all sorts of things.

He glanced at their stalls and then gave polite nods of acknowledgement and smiles, although intended on buying nothing. It was mostly jungle food anyway. As it was with the merchants leading out of a city, they were often aimed at travellers who needed things to survive on while they were travelling. Ki'ehr could see the colours of the sails now, hanging limply as there was no breeze. Ki'ehr just wanted out of his stinking armour and somewhere to wash his clothes, and himself. He certainly kept up a reasonable image from afar, but the closer one got to him, the less noble and the more smelly he seemed. He could take a day off being a paladin, surely. Not that he was much of a paladin while he smelt like the nearby swamp.

He needed an inn, and a cheap one.
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Blood in the Jungle · Phenvast City

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