A faltering step

Marcus sat on the edge of the farmlands outside Dagger Falls, one hand holding the worn amulet of helm that he often hung around his neck, the other holding an equally worn flask. Taking another sip, his eyes holding a sort of determined sadness he tosses the amulet from him. It flies far, hitting the ground with a dull thud like that of a hearts beat, rolling a way till covered in dirt, came to rust under a shrubs shadow. Taking one last drink, Marcus tucked the flask back into the jacket before standing. He called out into the night, Shade, i have done as you asked, i seek to speak with you once more and find the answer to my questions! As he called out, around him the darkness quieted even further, as if equally sad at witnessing the mans choice.