Guildhall
Odagar rolled his eyes as his unseen servant polished a bit of his armor with a cloth. “Save your alms,” he told Arcturus. “Widows and orphans should be in workhouses where they can contribute to society, not lazing away on your handouts,” the dwarf sniffed disdainfully. “The fool wants to part with his money, we should take it.”
"Sounds like he's fine!" pipes Seelia. "Lets go get some ogres!"
She draws her tiny scythelike sword and swishes it around. It hums as it cuts the air.
"Then signal when the cave is near and I shall get to work." Varus straddles the griffen and with a nod to the mayor and tug on the reins the griffon takes to the skies and slowly circles the carriage.
|