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[Adrian Bishop]

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"Oh no, please pardon me." Adrian smiled warmly and stepped aside to allow passage to a woman clad in lavish jewels and exquisitely dyed leather, even as he himself was shoved aside and cursed by a man whose hair and armour were both the same wild shade of arctic blue. The bank of Luna was always worse than he remembered. Adrian stepped aside as he waited for the banker to return with his deposit box. He sniffed appreciatively at a mug of hot mulled cider that he'd bought from a barefoot gypsy girl near the moongate. The bustling city was always such a stark contrast to the solitary roads he walked in life. Still, Adrian was struck by the beauty of the golden, torchlit sandstone against the radiant crimson of the sunset sky as he took a slow sip of the tart and spicy cider. Best gold piece I ever spent...

The hem of his dark green robe had gathered a week's worth of dust since Adrian set out that morning. He made a mental note to shake it out when he left the building again. The man stood running his fingers through his long dark reddish-blonde hair as wind whipped at it through the breezeway in the center of the city. At long last, the flustered banker returned and handed over a dusty bank box to Adrian, then turned again to the mob of patrons who shouted requests for their belongings.

Adrian took aside his bank box and set it upon a stone table, reaching down for the coin pouch that hung from his belt. He had meant to combine the handful of gold pieces in the pouch with those in his bank box. But when he opened the box, he found nothing but cobwebs, a tarnished dagger, a silver ring, an empty wine bottle, and a handful of dried rose petals. Adrian smiled, his eyes deepening pools of memory as he fawned over every object except the dagger. Examining each, returning to the past, his face alight with each new remembrance.

Adrian sighed heavily. He had come to Luna to buy a new weapon. His kryss had been broken in last night's revelry with friends. A drunken raid on the ice dungeon. Perhaps he had underestimated the brittleness of a frozen blade. Either way, he found himself without a weapon, and Adrian reluctantly reached into the box to pick up the tarnished dagger. He wiped a thick layer of dust from the blade with his thumb, revealing the inscription. "Night's Kiss." He examined the dagger for a moment before hearing a friendly voice from behind him.

"I'll fix that up for ye. It's old, needs a bit of a sharpen an' shine. But it looks like a good dagger." An old man looked over weapon as Adrian turned. Everything in him screamed against the man's suggestion. But he needed a blade.

It's just an object, after all. He appealed to reason, but came up short. Blood washes away, but not memory.

"What's the cost? I only have a few coins." Adrian held up the handful of gold and half-smiled. "Gold's a means to an end, only."

The man smiled knowingly and nodded. "This one's on the house."

Adrian mirthfully dropped the handful of coins back into his pouch and tied it to his belt, handing over the dagger to the old blacksmith. "Thank you, Brother. You're a kind soul. I'll come with you to the forge, but only if ya let me buy you some of the best cider in town."