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Altaruk, on the Sea of Silt (Dark Sun 4E IC)
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<blockquote data-quote="Inspiratorium" data-source="post: 5934787" data-attributes="member: 6684877"><p><strong>Marel</strong></p><p></p><p>Word of the task that House Wavir had proposed spread quickly. Even on the outskirts of town, Marel had heard of the summons. He needed the money. Trade was going slow, and he had meager coin left as it was. That's what he kept repeating to himself as he walked towards the trading post. </p><p></p><p>It was a nervous experience for him, returning to a more densely populated area after so long hiding away from large cities. He knew there would be hundreds of other prospective candidates looking to claim the reward, not to mention guards, House Wavir employees and representatives, bystanders, each of them with their separate errant emotions. He knew how <em>they</em> would whisper to him, how he would feel <em>them</em> emanating off of the clothing, the ground, the bodies. But he needed the money. Trade was going slow, and he had meager coin left as it was.</p><p></p><p>Events initially go just as Marel thought they would. The young man standing at the gates is answered with a muttered assent. The empath keeps his head down, trying to avoid eye contact with anybody if possible. As he joins the rest of the crowd waiting to draw his lot, Marel's anxiety starts to build. His brow furrows, and he rubs his temples with one hand. <em>They</em> were getting harder and harder to ignore. Eventually, after what seems an eternity, Marel retrieves his stone and quickly walks towards the corner set out for the blue group.</p><p></p><p>The half-elf finally raises his gaze to meet that of his soon-to-be ally, before again averting it. His expression has softened, but the signs of anxiety are still vaguely present. <span style="color: Sienna"><span style="color: DarkOrange">"Greetings,"</span><span style="color: White">he mutters, <span style="color: DarkOrange">"I'm Marel."</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Inspiratorium, post: 5934787, member: 6684877"] [b]Marel[/b] Word of the task that House Wavir had proposed spread quickly. Even on the outskirts of town, Marel had heard of the summons. He needed the money. Trade was going slow, and he had meager coin left as it was. That's what he kept repeating to himself as he walked towards the trading post. It was a nervous experience for him, returning to a more densely populated area after so long hiding away from large cities. He knew there would be hundreds of other prospective candidates looking to claim the reward, not to mention guards, House Wavir employees and representatives, bystanders, each of them with their separate errant emotions. He knew how [I]they[/I] would whisper to him, how he would feel [I]them[/I] emanating off of the clothing, the ground, the bodies. But he needed the money. Trade was going slow, and he had meager coin left as it was. Events initially go just as Marel thought they would. The young man standing at the gates is answered with a muttered assent. The empath keeps his head down, trying to avoid eye contact with anybody if possible. As he joins the rest of the crowd waiting to draw his lot, Marel's anxiety starts to build. His brow furrows, and he rubs his temples with one hand. [I]They[/I] were getting harder and harder to ignore. Eventually, after what seems an eternity, Marel retrieves his stone and quickly walks towards the corner set out for the blue group. The half-elf finally raises his gaze to meet that of his soon-to-be ally, before again averting it. His expression has softened, but the signs of anxiety are still vaguely present. [COLOR=Sienna][COLOR=DarkOrange]"Greetings,"[/COLOR][COLOR=White]he mutters, [COLOR=DarkOrange]"I'm Marel."[/COLOR][/COLOR][/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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