Running his manicured fingernails through his luscious, salt and pepper gray hair, Captain DeLeón takes a moment to laugh at himself.
A hundred men had been sent to him from the capital. A hundred good men and a hundred more to follow, with orders to travel through the Halfling strip into the Fey lands. His instructions are to form the first line of defence against the possible, Sir Briefadel led, demon incursion. To act as the protectors of the Fey Demi-goddess called Estrid, her entourage and the ‘Eternal pool’!
As a man… an admittedly vain man in his forties, he’d been sorely tempted, since having it’s existence confirmed by the Eighth-Elf; Rifkin, to travel there and search for it himself, just to sample its age retarding waters and stop the lines at the corners off his eyes spreading ever further or deeper.
Now though, despite the accuracy of the map he’s just been handed alongside his new orders, he suddenly finds himself a lot less eager. This is more like a suicide mission than an assignment. If the demon army does come via the dimensional portal beneath the magical pool, he and his two-hundred men will probably be no more to them than a bump on their path to Cottis.
The irony that he’ll almost certainly die defending a pool that he hoped would extend his life, isn’t lost on him.
Still, an order is an order and, if he’s anything, it’s a loyal soldier and he’ll do his very best to hold that line. With enough preparation time, perhaps he can even make the battle legendary and his death and the deaths of his men… costly.
Perhaps his name will live on in heroic stories, even if he himself, does not?
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