[indent]Astrophel arrived at the Stone of the Nine for the fourth time in his life. Ignoring the glade's other occupants, he slumped to the ground, the short cloak on his back rustling as he fell through the air onto his knees. His face was twisted with despair and exhaustion, his copper-penny hair strewn about his face, sticking with sweat. Sniffling, he slid the straps of his pack off one shoulder at a time, movements limp and drawn out. Scathing, self-directed admonishing thoughts crossed his mind, [color=8F8F00][i]You worthless fool, you tarnished man...[/i][/color]

The first had been some years ago, when he had first taken up wandering, which was all his extremely mild "adventuring" could really be called. He had been with only one other then, Paulson, a thick-skinned warrior type, raring for battle. It had been his longest partnership, lasting slightly over a year before Paulson's tragic death. Aster had almost gone back to Essia then, to be with his grandparents. On the trip home, just miles from Essia, he was mugged, left with no money and a fresh stab wound. And so in the time spent recuperating he decided that Essia was hardly safer than out on the road, and much less entertaining.

The second occasion had been a week past, when his new group of four (to whom he had grown quite attached in the past few months) arrived in Oakheim. His group had consisted of Archer, who was, ironically, a terrible shot with a bow, but gifted with a sword and their voice of reason; Stone, a grim beastkin woman operating under an obvious pseudonym; and Laurel, Archer's amicable teenage daughter. Upon arrival, Archer and Stone headed to the inn to secure their rooms for the night, and Laurel, knowing Aster had been in Oakheim before, begged the man to take her to the Stone of the Nine. There they met another Mage adventurer, Marten, and got along handsomely. Marten returned to the inn with them, received warmly from Archer, and as warm as one could expect from Stone.

The third had been early this morning, just as the sun was rising. Astrophel had gone ahead to wait for the group, at the behest of Archer. Abashed by his intoxicated behavior the night before, he paced anxiously. It was to be their last night in Oakheim before moving on, and Aster had said some embarrassing things to their dedicated leader, who he had always thought was quite breathtaking. The next morning had been filled with uncomfortable silence, as Astrophel floundered, unsure if he should apologize or pretend it had never happened at all. It did not help that he already had the sneaking suspicion that they were getting sick of him, and with Marten in their group now, he wondered if there was room for two mages.

He waited for hours, with still no sign of their approach. Aster walked up and down, along the path leading into the glade, perking up every time he heard the sound of dirt path underfoot. In a sick way, he hoped that something awful had happened to them. This dance was not unfamiliar to him. Though he hid it by clinging to optimism, he knew the signs. Oakheim was a safe town, with no end of passing travelers. It was the perfect place to leave someone behind, absolved of guilt for knowing that you were not putting them in danger. Still, it pained him every time, this abandonment. He had left groups of his own volition in the past, but his constant ache for companionship meant that more often than not, he clung to whatever group would have him. He grew tired of waiting. The inn was still there when he returned, and busy with activity, but he saw no familiar faces. 

[color=8F8F00]"Pardon me,"[/color] he'd said, approaching the bar. The woman behind the bar's eyes betrayed no acquaintance with his face. [color=8F8F00]"Have you perhaps seen my travelling companions? They would be with a man this tall-"[/color] He gestured, hand at chest-height, [color=8F8F00]"Raven hair, close-cut beard..."[/color] The woman stared, clueless. 

Aster went on, hopefully, [color=8F8F00]"... A woman of lizard-like countenance?"[/color] The bartender's eyes had lit up with recognition, and for a moment Astrophel was sure that the woman would give him a proper explanation for his friends' disappearance. 

[color=fdc68a]"That lot left some time ago, I'm afraid."[/color]

His stomach began to sink. [color=8F8F00]"How long ago did they leave?"[/color]

[color=fdc68a]"Oh, this mornin', I'd say. Just shortly after sunrise."[/color] Aster was positively heartbroken. 

He flapped his jaw uselessly for a few moments before the words came to him. [color=8F8F00]"Many thanks, my good woman. Splendid day to you."[/color] The day did not feel splendid in the slightest, but he had nothing if not good manners.

And then he left. No longer sure of his next course of action, he headed back to the Stone of the Nine. By now it was midday, and sweat trickled uncomfortably down the small of his back, but he was too preoccupied with his emotional distress to pay it any mind. Unbidden, tears welled in his eyes. He hastily brushed them away. His head was abuzz, feet on autopilot. His hands tightened desperately around the straps of his pack, knuckles whitened from the strain. 

[color=8F8F00][i]Oh, cruel Fate,[/i][/color] he lamented, [color=8F8F00][i]where did I go wrong? Surely, Archer knows my folly, he must know how drinking transforms me...?[/i][/color] He could not believe that last night's actions alone had caused the group to leave him. Reaching as far back in his mind, he scoured his memories with the group for some sign that their hearts had begun to turn against him. There had been a lingering suspicion for some time, but Aster had hoped it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He was forced to confront that he may have been right all along, and that he was only worth his meager magical ability to them. Even sweet Laurel, like the little sister he'd never had... [color=8F8F00][i]Did she ask about me? Did they lie to her, tell her that I'd wanted to leave? Or,[/i][/color] and the thought made his heart clench awfully in his chest, [color=8F8F00][i]did she want me gone too?[/i][/color]

He found himself back at the Stone, where some people had already gathered. A large bovine woman, and a very small human. He registered their presence but was, at the moment, ready to collapse into a sobbing heap. Fortunately, he did not do that, but instead fell to his knees as if he had just completed an arduous journey. He removed his pack, where his shoulders were beginning to smart, and settled his back against a tree. Parched, he reached into the pack for his water canteen, and drank deeply. He closed his eyes, covering his face with a hand, and tilted his head back so that it rested against the trunk. [color=8F8F00][i]Eldra's wounds...[/i][/color] he thought. [color=8F8F00][i]Whatever shall I do now?[/i][/color]
 [/indent]