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A pale figure clad from neck to toe in worn plate armor and a faded emerald hood paused just as they crested the top of a grassy hill. Inhaling deeply, it spent a few minutes savoring the cacophony of scents being carried on the midnight air, before letting its gaze settle on a shimmering cityscape off in the distance. One that was both familiar and foreign, a paradox that produced the oddest feeling of deja vu they'd ever felt.

Then again, Vitius supposed such feelings were to be expected after three centuries spent wandering the world, seeing history unfold before his very eyes. Wars and protests, lives and deaths, reforms and proclamations... Events that were very large to those whose lives were like a vapour, but insignificant to someone such as himself. Someone whose very nature laughed in the face of death and time, defying their relentless marches and inevitable deadlines. He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head gently.

Since when had he gone from being a simple guard to a philosopher? He couldn't recall. Another of the many drawbacks to his condition. Although he could live forever, provided he had access a constant supply of blood, his memory would fade over time. There was only so much information one mind could reasonably hold and recall, and sooner or later details would get mixed up or forgotten entirely. Even now he could barely remember his time in the Hoods, it was so long ago, like a dream almost. Or nightmare if he was being accurate. One that vanishes with the arrival of dawn.

He supposed that didn't really matter though. The Hoods were long gone, relegated to being nothing more than a quaint memory of a bygone era. Letting out a tired sigh as he flicked some flakes of ash from his pauldron, his breath billowing out into the cool night air like steam, Vitius briefly readjusted the leather strap holding his sheathe in place before continuing on his way.

To the city.

To Duncaster.