GlassEye
Adventurer
Orlando Furioso - Planks bravo & adventurer
The Dunn Wright's landward door opens and a duelist enters the common room. He's wearing a finely crafted chain shirt that gleams with more shine than that possible with simple steel and by the suppleness exhibited as the fellow swaggers across the room, all smiles and quips for those he passes, it is a sure thing that the armor is magical or mithril or both. Hanging from a wide belt of alternating carved black leather and silver links is the weapon of his occupation, a rapier. His hand rests lightly on the hilt and his thumb rubs the ivory handle.
Fury breaks into another jovial smile as he sees the crowd, and his friends, gathered in the place. Though the foray south was brief it was draining and he was ready for some relaxation in this place where everyone knows his name.
"Ah, look what the cat dragged in. I can already tell by Zelena's scowl you've started telling your stories again, Borric."
Fury winks at Sylvain, stiffens a little as he catches sight of Walthor happily waving his pincers at Zelena and covers his momentary disconcerted feeling with a bow to the priestess of Ral. Fury examines the young swordsman sitting in attendance on Zelena and his smile becomes rather strained; it was just this sort of jumped up merchant's son that got his goat and made his sword hand itch. He nods a polite greeting since he is here to enjoy himself and not fight.
Turning away to find himself a clear seat he spots Anna.
"Ah, the lovely Anna! Whose beauty dazzles even goblins, hags, and barghests."
He smiles his most dazzling smile (though still incredibly plain) and makes his way past and to the bar where he collects a bottle of wine and a glass.
The Dunn Wright's landward door opens and a duelist enters the common room. He's wearing a finely crafted chain shirt that gleams with more shine than that possible with simple steel and by the suppleness exhibited as the fellow swaggers across the room, all smiles and quips for those he passes, it is a sure thing that the armor is magical or mithril or both. Hanging from a wide belt of alternating carved black leather and silver links is the weapon of his occupation, a rapier. His hand rests lightly on the hilt and his thumb rubs the ivory handle.
Fury breaks into another jovial smile as he sees the crowd, and his friends, gathered in the place. Though the foray south was brief it was draining and he was ready for some relaxation in this place where everyone knows his name.
"Ah, look what the cat dragged in. I can already tell by Zelena's scowl you've started telling your stories again, Borric."
Fury winks at Sylvain, stiffens a little as he catches sight of Walthor happily waving his pincers at Zelena and covers his momentary disconcerted feeling with a bow to the priestess of Ral. Fury examines the young swordsman sitting in attendance on Zelena and his smile becomes rather strained; it was just this sort of jumped up merchant's son that got his goat and made his sword hand itch. He nods a polite greeting since he is here to enjoy himself and not fight.
Turning away to find himself a clear seat he spots Anna.
"Ah, the lovely Anna! Whose beauty dazzles even goblins, hags, and barghests."
He smiles his most dazzling smile (though still incredibly plain) and makes his way past and to the bar where he collects a bottle of wine and a glass.
