"Cruel witch!" Amal spat, his sexual frustrations going to new heights. He rolled around in bed for awhile, until he decided he couldn't take it anymore. He tore the covers off himself and told her he was going out for some air. The thief did not intend to be gone long, just long enough for the frigid temperatures to cool himself off. The picture of Charynrae straddling him and kissing his neck a bit too much for him to bear whilst he went to sleep. 

The night was late, now, and the barroom below their shared suite was only sparsely populated, a few men and dwarves sat in disparate groups, whispering to one another as they nursed their drinks. The telltale smell of pipeweed enriched the air, but Amal did not stay. He merely glided past the murmurs and stepped out into the cold. Immediately, he saw the steam rise from his lips, his keen eyes catching the tossing and turning figures and stacks of items set within the tents just a few dozen yards before him. Many would-be adventurers looking for their fortunes set tents just before the gate to prepare themselves for their sojourns past the walls. He was almost tempted to sneak in amongst them and steal a few trinkets, but he had just gotten out of the wilderness. He was not about to risk it, at least not right now. Instead, he let the cold seep into him. Now that he had a room to go back to, it was not so bad. Well, it [i]was[/i], but it did not have the same psychological effect. 

He needed only stand there briefly before he decided he had felt enough. How anyone but a frost giant could live this far north was a mystery to him, and he turned to go back inside. However, something caught his eye. 

He had glanced at the crescent moon, admiring its light for a moment, but he felt something had obscured his vision for a moment. Some winged shape passing by the far light. The thief wondered if he had been seeing things, but knew that such thoughts were generally lies wrapped in plausibility. He knew he saw something, something vast. But waiting in the cold for another minute brought no more answers, and when he realized how frozen he was becoming, he cursed in calishite and strode back inside to his warm bed. 

All thoughts of Charynrae had been expelled for the moment, replaced with an unease he would have rather gone without. Oh well, Ibrandul curse it all.

Whatever horrors Faerun was planning to bring him, it could wait until tomorrow.