Jatan knelt on his sleeping bag, crossing his legs which were bent at the knees. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands stretched upward with an open palm. It was difficult to concentrate in his apartment. For one thing, there was a constant buzzing. The flies, mosquitos, and gnats, drawn irresistibly to the stickiness of the humid air, flitted through the small one-bedroom apartment, buzzing and biting as they went. There was also the heat. It was unbearable. Sweat dampened Jatan's robes, streaked down his arms and face, dribbled from his armpits, adding a rancid stench to the air. But worst of all were the memories of Edgar's hanging. Like a shadowy figure in a dark room, they lingered, ready to surge forward at any moment.
Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. The stench and bustle of the city faded as Jatan meditated. He was left with the gentle swish of a breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out.
BONG, BONG, BONG.
The harsh clanging of the gong roused Jatan. As a native of Loudwater, he had been hearing it for the past month. Like many of the other citizens, it roused in him an apprehensive curiosity. Who would pay the price today? More than anything, though, it reminded him of Edgar's limp body dangling from the rope. Shuddering, Jatan quickly bundled up his sleeping bag, stuffing it in the corner of the small apartment, and scurried outside. The punishment for failing to attend an execution was harsh, but it wasn't what compelled Jatan to go.
Since Edgar's death, Jatan had been vigilant in his attendance, even showing up early on occasion. His eyes wandered throughout the crowd, scanning for potential allies. Turns out he wasn't the only one disgusted by the worship of this mysterious "Shadow" God and the horrific violence incited by his followers. He had tested the waters with a few people that seemed resistant, given away by their comments or facial expressions. So far, he'd had no luck. Just a lot of, "Best of luck to you, really, but I can't put myself or my family at risk like that!" Patience was something he'd learned from Edgar, though. If he waited long enough, an opportunity would present itself, and that's when he'd pounce on it.
And so, a somber Jatan returned to the town square for another execution, picking his way through the crowded streets, weaving between clutters of halflings, a rather skittish looking human girl and half-orc boy who almost seemed lost, and dozens of others to take his spot in the crowd, peering around at the sea of faces that surrounded him. Perhaps today would be his lucky day.