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[Path]

A deep breath of the morning air was taken in. A half smile playing across the canines features. Pack was shouldered, containing only what few items he needed, along with the gnarled staff across his shoulder. Path'en took this chance to look over the dusty interior of the mages guild once more, tsking at his own messiness, piles of spellbooks, half written scrolls, all lay strewn about the area. Chuckling, the magus turns and heads down the stairs, passing the all too familiar statue. Outside, the door cracks open, and the blue clad figure treads out, closing up the tower softly, so as to not wake anyone in this early hour.
Dawn was barely creeping over the horizion, illuminating the kingdom with the slanted hues of golden light. He took the time to drink in this sight, marveling at its beauty. At length, he heaves a sigh, and turns left across the travel beaten dust road, heading out of Ansteorra. Once out of the city walls, he begins to hum an uplifting traveling tune, patting his pocket assuredly. With a deft paw, a small crystal ball is relieved from its place in his pocket, contained therein is a tiny tree, carefully extracted and shrunk from its hidden place. A gladdened grin spreads over the features of the wolf, and the ctystal disappears into the folds of his robe as quickly as it had appeared. The song fades away upon his lips, the sight of the castle walls fading from view behind him as he traveled into the mist. "..Goodbye, my friends, and good luck."
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--Antagonism isn't a way of life, its just a profession.

[Kitzibeth]

Kitzibeth bounded up the stairs to the Mage's guild for her usual morning meeting with Master Path'en, carrying a pile of scrolls and books. Upon reaching the second floor landing, she saw him gone, not even asleep as the old furre tended to be this early in the morning.

"Path'en?" She asked. "Where are you, old furre?"

She looked around, in vain. Wondering if Path'en had merely wandered off to his grove, she dumped her things on the table and hustled off to the potion shop down the main road. Moving aside the secret switch on the potion shelf, she slipped into his secret glade. She wasn't supposed to know it was even there, but Path'en was never late for his meeting, and she was worried.

The door creaked open, but there was no longer a glade, no tree, no plants. It was as if someone has taken them all away... Someone had taken her Path'en away...

She slumped to the floor. "Path'en?" is all that echoed throughout the empty space, backed up with the sound of sobbing from the fire mage who soon realized she was now all alone.

[Micheru]

Atop the tower, hidden from the gaze of Path'en, was a purple clad trixter, dressed in a black suit, purple cloak, and a masonic apron. Our mysterious purple one had been waiting to pulverise Kitzibeth with a number of apples collected from the trees, upon her morning run to the guild, instead he lifted an inquisitive brow as he watched Path'en leave.

Taking a final sip of his chai, he tossed the glass over his shoulder onto the roof of the nearest building, sliding down the side untill he reached a ledge and jumped quickly to the ground, smirking in path'en's path.. a single chuckle uttered with one last sentence - unheard, "Fare well, Path." Before Micheru made the tedious task of re-climbing the tower again, awaiting Kitzibeth...

[Garrett Riev]

Sits silently by the outside of the bar, hidden from Path's view. He watches him leave threw the gates. He sighs as Path's figure goes out of view and into the mist. He whispers "Good luck Path'en. And be safe." He then remains there quietly for the next couple of hours.
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I pledge my allegiance, to all things dark
And I promise on my damned soul
To do as I am told, Lord Beelzebub
Has never seen a soldier quite like me
Not only does his job, but does it happily.

Voltaire > You

[Zagnafein]

A perpetual frown seemed to be etched on the Elf's face, disfiguring it from the usual smile it was made to carry. Perching on a guard's tower, he watched the mage leave, leave until he walked over the horizon. Sighing, he lifted a hand in a final wave, and then walked downstairs into the morning air.

Walking towards the Mage's Guild, he stepped inside and took a quick look around, hearing Kitzibeth's final call. Still frowning, he made his way back to the statue where the mage and himself would often converse, and sat down in simple thought.

[Lizalfos_Ganon]

An enormous snake, sulky before, now seems quite irritable. Already charged with the deaths by poison of three Ansteorrans, six injuries, and an uncharged corpse defilement, the snake is snapping powerful, venom filled jaws at nearly every passer-by.

This is, of course, because Path'en was his best chance for returning to his original form.

[Lord Dark Jackal]

*quitely gazes on from his perch on the fortress walls. He had not heard Path'en slip through the gates, as it was still early in the morning, and he was still trying to wake himself up to catch the sunrise. Jackal stood and watches Path'en's figure change into just another shadow as it left down the road.
How ironic it was, that Path'en had slipped out early as not to disturb a Soul, yet so many had witnessed his diparture.*
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"Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing."
-William Shakespeare's MacBeth

[Jayce Ithil]

Yet another had left so silent, as many had left before, walking by the canine came a deaf and beaten form, not even a nod did he exchange. A memory flashed through the deaf ones mind, of a femme that left him behind, she left no wraning, or prints on the floor, just a note upon the tavern door. Long past he thought to himself. he approached the gate, not caring, not knowing whom it was that passed, sensing the purple one up early, a grin played his muzzle as he continued walking on, only to be hit by an apple, that smashed into sauce on contact with his face. He sputtered, and smiled, the dark ones antics had made his bad mood less vile.