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<blockquote data-quote="Dragonwriter" data-source="post: 4948462" data-attributes="member: 54988"><p><strong>Jareth Kyras, Duskblade</strong></p><p></p><p>The young man stands, arms folded, looking down at the gruff dwarf. His head darts up at the sound of approaching steps. His gloved right hand is near-instantly on a length of chain hanging by his hip on the same side. His eyes narrow momentarily, then he relaxes, seeing friendlies. It seems the news from earlier has him on edge… Or it could just be talking with the dwarf.</p><p></p><p>A dark look is set on his pale, young-looking face. Especially young-looking, in fact. He seems barely a man, still growing, though cutting a decent figure of a human adult, even in his very plain, worn travel clothing. His broad leather belt is pulled tight about his waist, with a couple pouches hanging from it, in addition to the chain at his right. Anyone with a little magical training would notice that one of the pouches is pretty similar to an average spell component pouch... A large pack is over just behind his left foot.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: crimson"> “Sorry ‘bout that.” </span> He shakes his head, his short red hair enflamed in the sun. He scowls a little as he returns to speaking with Martomum, saying, <span style="color: crimson"> “Listen, master dwarf… Everyone starts as a greenie, as you call them, but you have to start somewhere. If you don’t want to deal with me, that’s too bad, since it seems I’ve been assigned to your bunch of irregulars. But I’ve got some skills that aren’t too common, and might just come in handy. This chain here is only a part of my own personal arsenal, an arsenal that I doubt anyone here could quite match. And it’ll only grow larger and stronger with time. Hopefully, before too long, it’ll see some use against those Treylor scum, like those that torched that poor village. Then they’ll learn what it’s like to be begging for mercy or running screaming and feeling something pierce your spine. Now, <em>is there anything else you want to know</em>?”</span> The young man’s teeth grate at the end of his small speech, his body tensing slightly. He spares a glance at the people shambling into camp, his green eyes hard.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Dragonwriter, post: 4948462, member: 54988"] [b]Jareth Kyras, Duskblade[/b] The young man stands, arms folded, looking down at the gruff dwarf. His head darts up at the sound of approaching steps. His gloved right hand is near-instantly on a length of chain hanging by his hip on the same side. His eyes narrow momentarily, then he relaxes, seeing friendlies. It seems the news from earlier has him on edge… Or it could just be talking with the dwarf. A dark look is set on his pale, young-looking face. Especially young-looking, in fact. He seems barely a man, still growing, though cutting a decent figure of a human adult, even in his very plain, worn travel clothing. His broad leather belt is pulled tight about his waist, with a couple pouches hanging from it, in addition to the chain at his right. Anyone with a little magical training would notice that one of the pouches is pretty similar to an average spell component pouch... A large pack is over just behind his left foot. [color="crimson"] “Sorry ‘bout that.” [/color] He shakes his head, his short red hair enflamed in the sun. He scowls a little as he returns to speaking with Martomum, saying, [color="crimson"] “Listen, master dwarf… Everyone starts as a greenie, as you call them, but you have to start somewhere. If you don’t want to deal with me, that’s too bad, since it seems I’ve been assigned to your bunch of irregulars. But I’ve got some skills that aren’t too common, and might just come in handy. This chain here is only a part of my own personal arsenal, an arsenal that I doubt anyone here could quite match. And it’ll only grow larger and stronger with time. Hopefully, before too long, it’ll see some use against those Treylor scum, like those that torched that poor village. Then they’ll learn what it’s like to be begging for mercy or running screaming and feeling something pierce your spine. Now, [i]is there anything else you want to know[/i]?”[/color] The young man’s teeth grate at the end of his small speech, his body tensing slightly. He spares a glance at the people shambling into camp, his green eyes hard. [/QUOTE]
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