Zedd Witlock -- Some things never change<br/><br/>In the musty basement of an abandoned building on the outskirts of Crescent City, California, the shadows began to thicken. A rat squeaked and skittered away from the growing mass of darkness, and a pair of cockroaches watched impassively from an overhead pipe as a figure began to materialize within the dark. The alien form seemed to pull the darkness into itself, wrapping it about like some arcane cloak, until finally the shadows exploded outward and locked themselves back into their normal configurations. And in the far corner of the room stood a man who wasn't there before.<br/><br/>Zedd stretched his limbs, clenched and unclenched his fingers and ran his tongue over his teeth, patted his chest and legs, and hooked a thumb into the waistband of his shorts and glanced down to make sure that no, er, important pieces were left behind. 'Whew, still intact. Alright,' Zedd thought with relief as he looked around for the exit. A small flight of cobwebbed stairs led him up into a nondescript, unfurnished room. Thick layers of dust covered the once-blue walls, and more cobwebs drifted lazily from the ceiling on an unfelt breeze. Almost as though the house itself wanted him gone, Zedd watched the half-rotted front door swing part-way open with a haunting creak. He took the hint and immediately strode outside, his eyes watering from the mid-day sun's onslaught.<br/><br/>A small road wound past the little house, which seemed in even worse disrepair from the outside. There was no one around outside, but nearby the sounds of a small village echoed on the wind along with the wet smell of sea salt. Zedd hitched his bag tight on his shoulder and headed for the village; although he was reasonably certain he was near the Redwood Forest, it couldn't hurt to get his bearings a little more fully.<br/><br/>The village was further away than Zedd expected, but the weather was clear and the road was smooth. He made fine time, and within the hour stood before a small signpost that welcomed him to Crescent City. A couple of armed men passing by on horseback gave him a strange look as he walked along, but Zedd paid them no mind and kept his eyes fixed on the road at his feet. No trouble here, fellows. Just move along. The clomping of their horses faded into the distance and Zedd breathed a little easier.<br/><br/>Further along into the village, he recieved more odd looks from townsfolk as he travelled what seemed to be the main thoroughfare. He was beginning to worry that the villagers might have been suffering some sort of xenophobia, and images of being chased by an angry, torch-wielding mob flashed in his mind. But after a few moments' consideration, Zedd realized it was probably just his clothing; most of the people he'd seen were wearing thick, heavy pants and full-bodied shirts or coats, while he was still wearing his long shorts and open vest. After years of the Mexican heat, he hadn't really thought about taking clothes fit for different climates, and now that he did think of it he wasn't sure he owned any anyway. Zedd gave a mental shrug and hoped his appearance wouldn't cause him too much trouble.<br/><br/>A large sign ahead advertised an inn/diner nearby, and Zedd decided to stop in and find out how near (or far) his destination was. As he stepped inside, the sound of a dozen different conversations stopping dead as nails was palpable. He could practically feel every eye in the place swivel towards him; he couldn't remember feeling so self-conscious since he was a child, forced to attend one of his parents' interminable dinner parties. Zedd kept his head somewhat downward and tried to make himself seem as nonthreatening as possible as he took a seat at one of the empty tables and sat his pack down on the floor at his feet. One of the serving girls meandered over and looked at him quizzically for a moment, then plastered on a sweet but false smile.<br/><br/>"Good afternoon, sir. Is there anything I can get for you today? A menu, or a room, perhaps?" Zedd slipped a hand into one of the pouches on his belt and fumbled for the few peso notes he'd managed to bring with him. It wasn't much, no more than fifty or so, and he had only taken that to stop Ernesto from nagging him about leaving with no money at all. Still, it was all he had, and now that he was back out in the world part of him wished he'd brought more after all. But the orphanage's accounts weren't that full to begin with, and the children would certainly need what little money they had more than he did, so he would make do. For a split second Zedd considered declining the girl's offers and conserving his meager funds, but the eyes of the other patrons were still fixed firmly on him, and he decided he'd fare better as a paying customer than a freeloading stranger.<br/><br/>"Yes, I'd like a menu, please," Zedd said loud enough for most of the nearby customers to hear. Almost immediately the subtle tensions that had been simmering beneath the surface faded away, and a more casual air returned to the room. Conversations seemed to pick up right where they'd been dropped, including what sounded like a rather vicious argument between two men at a table behind Zedd's back. The serving girl returned with his menu, a large sheet of thin cloth stretched over a piece of light wood and presented it to him with an exaggerated flourish and the same sickly sweet smile. Zedd took it from her and made a show of looking it over, then nodded and handed it back.<br/><br/>"I'll have a cup of coffee and a slice of your strawberry pie, please." "Certainly, sir. Just a moment, and I'll be right out with it," the girl said as she started to turn and leave, her bright smile dimming significantly at his cheap order. Before she could leave, Zedd reached out and tapped her shoulder to regain her attention.<br/><br/>"By the way, I was hoping you could tell me how far this town is from the Redwood Forest? I, er, heard from a friend that it's a really beautiful place, and I'd really like to see it."<br/><br/>The girl wrinkled her nose at this and dropped all pretense of serving-girl politeness. "The Redwood Forest? Why would you wanna go somewhere like that? It's not nothing but a fogbank with a lot of extra tall trees."<br/><br/>"Please, miss, I'd really like to know. It's...it's just very important," Zedd said. He felt it would be unwise to go about claiming to be on a mission from the gods, but the look in his eyes must have convinced her anyway.<br/><br/>"Well, I guess if you're really that serious about it. The Forest is actually--"<br/><br/>"You rotten son of a bitch! I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, you keep your damn cattle off of my land! They've broken my fences and contaminated our river for the last time, you hear me Lambert!?" "Aww, shut up, Cordell! That's my land you've been trying to fence me out of for years, and you know it!" "You lying bastard!" The two men at the table behind Zedd were on their feet now, circling and shouting at each other. As Zedd turned to see what was going on, the waitress disappeared back into the kitchen. He kicked his bag out from under the table and scooped it up before moving away from what looked to be an impending fight. The two men stared daggers at each other over their table until finally they could contain themselves no longer. In a rage, one launched himself at the other and they both fell to the floor, a rolling, kicking, punching, swearing, eight-limbed dervish. As Zedd and the other customers watched, another serving girl came out and brought Zedd his coffee and pie, ostensibly paying the ongoing battle no attention whatsoever.<br/><br/>"Say, isn't anyone going to stop those two?" Zedd asked as he took his food. "What, that? Nah, those guys go at it in here almost every week. They'll beat on each other for a while until the magistrate comes and hauls them off for disturbing the peace, their wives come and bail them out, then they'll be back in here tonight or tomorrow buying each other drinks. Then next week, they'll start all over again. Idiots." The girl snorted as they watched the fight. One man -- Zedd thought it was the one called Cordell -- had the other fellow in a headlock and was punching him in the head repeatedly. Zedd sat his coffee cup on a nearby table and forked a piece of pie into his mouth as the battle raged in front of him.<br/><br/>'Wow. Good pie.'<br/>