From the Shadows ...

Inside room 104, not a soul stirred ... or so it seemed. Oblivious to the presence or absence of a present tenant, a shadow flickered in a single corner. Soon enough this shadow seemed to sprout a pair of glowing hazel eyes. All else was shrouded in the darkened room.

After a long absence, he had returned to this place. Why he had returned would be a mystery for those who ran this Inn.

As this presence stepped from the shadows, the moonlight from the window fell onto a pale figure that some here may well remember. This time he was wearing what could best be described as street clothes. His usual black bodysuit, armor and cloak nowhere to be seen. The same with his weapons. This time he was dressed in blue jeans, a t-shirt and a black leather bomber jacket.

The Shade that was always at his side soon extricated itself from the shadow as well, perplexed to say the least

"Master, why have we returned to this place?" Was the only question it asked, out loud seeing as no one seemed to be present.

Looking over at the Shade, he simply smiled and did not respond. Even the Shade would have to figure that out on his own it seemed. Not that it mattered to him at the present moment in time.

Time ... That was something he had far too much of it seemed. Looking at him, one would not believe he was as old as his eyes told. One could never believe he had seen the things he held in his memory ...

When he spoke, it was in a soft voice ... Heavy with the smoke of his favored pipe and tobacco, "Listen, o soaring tower of darkness, at which even the wind cries. Shed light on you, wounded and trolling the night roads. I will never forget about you. On this road of unfulfillment, I still walk alone. Go forth! O loquacious shadows, come and guide me!"

This was all he said before moving to the door and exiting the room ... To where, even the Maker cannot say.