To give this story a summary would be doing it much injustice...... I think.....
Night fell with a sickening thud. Shaking his head, he staggered to his feet. Damn, that woman could throw a punch. Looking up at the broken window, that he had just fallen from, he tried to decide if going back in was worth it. He rubbed the 3 day stubble on his chin, adjusted the black leather tunic and breeches he wore, and chose the safer option, leave. He really wouldn't miss the things he left in that crappy tavern's room, and to be perfectly frank, he wouldn't miss that woman either. Dusting himself off and smoothing down his short white hair, the man started out on the road leading from town.
Not long after his departure, he noticed he was being followed. Now, it takes a lot to sneak up on Night. The man had been watching his back like he was walking behind himself for years. To not notice the person until he had a sword sticking through him, was possibly one of the most embarassing moments in his long, long, life.
Turning towards his assailant, he quirked his right eyebrow. "Excuse me sir, I believe you have misplaced your weapon." He motioned to the swordpoint that was extruding from his chest. The man who had run him through barely blinked.
"Well, I do think that I would like it back." The man had said with a slight drawl to his voice. He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair and tossed aside a hitchhiking insect he found there. The man was dressed as your typical mercenary, poorly matched leather and chain armor with a large assortment of sharp, blunt, and rather dangerous tools of his trade.
Night shrugged and turned so the man could retrieve his weapon. "So it seems you have been getting better after all," he said with a catch to his voice when the sword slid clear of his lung. "I didn't know you were there until you stabbed me." The man simply nodded and sheathed his blade.
Knowing no real comment would be forthcoming, Night resumed walking down the road. After a few moments, the other man followed. A few miles past the point they had met, the other man finally spoke. "So do you ever really get tired of it? The not dying or the not sleeping?" He looked sideways at Night.
Night frowned slightly but shook his head. "You know, I never really thought about it. There really isn't anything to be tired of." He spit on the ground and frowned at the specks of red in it. "I used to think that I would. I mean, I have forever to do anything I want. Trust me, the more time you have, the more you think about doing." He shrugged. "Besides, who wouldn't want to be a god? How's it been treating you? You ever get tired of it Kale?"
Kale, shook his head and smiled. "The endless war I wage? How could I? You know how much I revel in bloodshed and the lamenting of women." He laughed long and deep, the sound echoing in the empty sky. "I noticed you haven't been really taking your role seriously. Seriously, god of Shadows, Thieves, and Assassins? That was your passion before all of..... well.... all of this!" He waved his hands in the air between the two of them.
Night smiled. "Oh I do my old, old friend. However, Sometimes one needs a short break from all of it and wants to try and be, I don't know, normal again." He let out a short sigh and clapped Kale on the shoulder. "Come, we can talk about this at the next inn. I hear the town of Keltsdale has the best ale in a 100 miles."