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Fiend's Embrace - IC Thread
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<blockquote data-quote="Whizbang Dustyboots" data-source="post: 2835119" data-attributes="member: 11760"><p>The Swords of the Tarkhan swing the heavy door open and Harval Barleybeard is momentarily blinded by the afternoon sunlight.</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: Sienna">'ow many days?</span>" the dwarf croaks out.</p><p></p><p>They prod at him with their scimitars, herding him out of the stone shed he's been staying in long enough for it to smell like him for a week to come.</p><p></p><p>"Three days." They drop the dwarf's gear in a pile before him, and the dwarf checks each bit of gear before putting it on, heedless of the reactions his very hairy nude form is provoking, including causing several small children playing on this edge of Eru Tovar to burst into tears. His back is criss-crossed with lash marks and his wrists and ankles still bear welts where he was tied, spread-eagled, to the whipping posts. "Next time, maybe you won't get cute and punch the Tarkhan's own horse."</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: sienna">... was drunk,</span>" is Harval's only reply. The guards snort a little to themselves, as though to suggest the dwarf being sober would be unthinkable. Finally, Harval is fully dressed. He looks from one guard to the other. "<span style="color: sienna">Leaving town soon, anyway.</span>"</p><p></p><p>"The Tarkhan's stablemaster will be glad to hear it."</p><p></p><p>The pair stand aside as Harval ambles down the dusty path, torn between getting a roast bit of meat from a stall or drinking his dinner at the Wyvern's Sting. In the end, he decides to do both.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Whizbang Dustyboots, post: 2835119, member: 11760"] The Swords of the Tarkhan swing the heavy door open and Harval Barleybeard is momentarily blinded by the afternoon sunlight. "[COLOR=Sienna]'ow many days?[/COLOR]" the dwarf croaks out. They prod at him with their scimitars, herding him out of the stone shed he's been staying in long enough for it to smell like him for a week to come. "Three days." They drop the dwarf's gear in a pile before him, and the dwarf checks each bit of gear before putting it on, heedless of the reactions his very hairy nude form is provoking, including causing several small children playing on this edge of Eru Tovar to burst into tears. His back is criss-crossed with lash marks and his wrists and ankles still bear welts where he was tied, spread-eagled, to the whipping posts. "Next time, maybe you won't get cute and punch the Tarkhan's own horse." "[color=sienna]... was drunk,[/color]" is Harval's only reply. The guards snort a little to themselves, as though to suggest the dwarf being sober would be unthinkable. Finally, Harval is fully dressed. He looks from one guard to the other. "[color=sienna]Leaving town soon, anyway.[/color]" "The Tarkhan's stablemaster will be glad to hear it." The pair stand aside as Harval ambles down the dusty path, torn between getting a roast bit of meat from a stall or drinking his dinner at the Wyvern's Sting. In the end, he decides to do both. [/QUOTE]
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