grumblyarcher
First Post
Master Shrike did not arrive in style. He was, after all, a 'master' and not a 'lord' or even a 'sir'. Worn traveling cloak, obviously patched tunic, boots that have definitely seen better days. You could almost mistake him for just another thirsty traveller if not for a few important features. First were the ears. Despite not looking particularly elven, or even half-elven for that matter Master Shrike possessed the long pointed ears of the fair folk. Of course, they were notched and the left ended abruptly about three-fourths of the way along its length. Trophies from his days among some less than gentle siblings.
The other was the carefully wrapped bundle thrown over his shoulder. Bulky and tied with rough twine, there was no point in lying about it, such a package rarely contained anything but weapons. The elf was merely being polite enough to not carry his chosen implements of violence openly. He either trusted the occupants of the tavern enough to not feel the need for openly carried weapons or he trusted his own skill at avoiding danger even more.
With a rolling stride, he picked his way across the room toward a booth. There was supposed to be someone waiting for him here with potential work, he was fuzzy on the details but he would look forward to anything that did not involve playing lackey to the local nobility for a few days. The nobles of Venza knew so little about just what the word meant that he could barely see any relation between them and the people that raised him. Anything that could get him out of Venza itself would be even better. Of course, with his saving running desperately low, anything was better than nothing.
The other was the carefully wrapped bundle thrown over his shoulder. Bulky and tied with rough twine, there was no point in lying about it, such a package rarely contained anything but weapons. The elf was merely being polite enough to not carry his chosen implements of violence openly. He either trusted the occupants of the tavern enough to not feel the need for openly carried weapons or he trusted his own skill at avoiding danger even more.
With a rolling stride, he picked his way across the room toward a booth. There was supposed to be someone waiting for him here with potential work, he was fuzzy on the details but he would look forward to anything that did not involve playing lackey to the local nobility for a few days. The nobles of Venza knew so little about just what the word meant that he could barely see any relation between them and the people that raised him. Anything that could get him out of Venza itself would be even better. Of course, with his saving running desperately low, anything was better than nothing.