It was a long, hard, cold walk toward the nearest city. He recognized it, of course -- it was Rhy'Din. The city had the same name as the nation it resided in, though nobody was exactly sure who was in control. He tried to make it himself, of course, but that ended... poorly. Stealing back behind a cottage on the outskirts of the city, Ayreg opened the door and entered this stranger's home. He wasn't there long -- just long enough to grab up the cloak that was hanging near the door -- before he left again. Whether he was seen or not, the Death Knight really did not care. No weapon, true, but he's killed man and elf with bare hands, before.

There's something more visceral to it. It's very satisfying.

He pulled the cloak around his body, trying to shut out the wind. It seemed he truly was living, now -- even when he made war on the lands of Rhy'Din, his body was not alive. It was just a thing that he controled like a puppet, and his will the puppetmaster. Now, at least, it appeared as if he was well and truly inside his body -- half-naked from the rotting rags as it was -- as he shambled down a hill into the city.

He wasn't there long, before a passing man dropped a silver at his feet. Could it be that they are taking him for a beggar? Citizens need to be fleeing in terror upon the very idea of his visage, not giving him coins. It was an outrage! "Could I really have been gone that long?" he said aloud, as he stooped to collect up the coin. He might have been put out, but he still needed coin.

The cloak he had pilfered was barely more than the rags he was already wrapped in. Jodiah turned his head down the street, and saw a sign.

RHY'DIN GENERAL STORE

His thin lips twitched, and cold eyes stared at the sign for a few moments. Some things never change. He made his way toward the shop -- surely they'd have a servicable cloak.