[Center][H1][Color=#c185e8]Kotaka GhostPine[/color][/H1]
[h3]A Couple Days Prior...[/H3][/Center]

Several days had passed since Kotaka left the familiar hearth-fires of his home village with that caravan. Rowdy folk they were, asking many questions, sharing stories of the road, Kotaka enjoyed their company to a degree. Vastly different from his more stoic and introspective people. But, gone were the bone white tundras and wind blasted plateaus, now greeted him was dense sea of green woods and cobbled stone pathways. The smell of a past rain still lingered in the air as a gentle breeze shook the firs. These were only just the foothills but the temperature difference was drastically different. So much so that he had to remove some of the traditional heavy furs and garbs that helps him survive the cold.

Kotaka uses the butt of his lance as a guide, like a walking stick. In long strides he traverses the road with determination. Getting to his destination was imperative. His pace was interrupted though. In, seemingly, the middle of nowhere there came an odd sound. On the breeze carried laughter, whispers, and harsh tones. No details but a presence none the less. Was the voices from the waking world around him? Or were the voices from beyond reaching out to him once more? The blindfolded man gripped his land and raised his face up to the wind. Focusing his senses he tried to discern if danger was near by or not.

The liveliness of this place unnerved him. He could only imagine how much worse it would get when he recalled what his teacher called 'a city'. If the source of the voices became distant or silent, he would turn back to the road to press on.