Velentham already hated Toril. The people were dour and rude, openly staring at him with worry, alarm, and disdain. The colors here were all muted compared to his planar home... a home he would never see again. Perhaps in time he would find someone to teach him how to traverse the planes - but the only being he knew that was truly adept was dead. There was nothing more he could do about it now. Without Gilean to show him the ropes, Velentham was irritable and alone. Utterly alone.
"Is there an inn," he asked a passing man - but before he could even finish his sentence, the man threw him an obscene gesture and hurriedly walked away. He walked to the center of the square and sat with great frustration at the edge of a fountain, his face pinched with rage.
He hadn't been sitting for long before the sound of a deep, gruff male voice sounded out through the square. "That's him!"
Velentham looked up to see a group of guards in deep purple armor making their way toward him. They were joined by others, a group of at least twelve, and Velentham stood up. "You!" The lead guard called out. "Esper!"
"Me?" Velentham asked, pointing to himself.
"Yes, you, asshole. Get over here. You're not going to start any trouble here!"
Trouble? Velentham shook his head, his brow furrowed. "Trouble? I haven't come to cause anything."
"SILENCE ESPER!"
"Esper? What in the hells are you talking about?"
"We have it on good authority that you are here to start trouble and personally, I'd rather see all of you espers powering a cannon engine but I have to take you into custody first."
"Custody?"
"He's not the brightest one, is he?" asked one of the other guards.
Velentham gritted his teeth and pulled out his swords. "If you want me, you're going to have to take me out first."
"With pleasure," the lead guard said, pulling out his sword as the square cleared of people.
