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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Unsung" data-source="post: 6567657" data-attributes="member: 6781406">The Harmony guardswoman regards Graydon politely. She wears a close-fitting red helmet, and a suit of shining red scale mail, small hooked blades of the same red-tinted steel sprouting from her shoulders, forearms, knuckles, knees, and back. A cluster of blades decorates the front of her helmet, just above her eyes. She smiles and nods, but doesn't say anything, merely sipping her drink. Her eyes go back to the barman, and Graydon follows her look.Barstle wipes the top of the bar, and flicks a few drops of condensation at the tavern cat as it passes. "Ahhh, s'funny, but the times I miss most are the ones I remember least. Many a weekend lost to the faerie revels of Sylvania, fortunes once gained and again misplaced deep in the dark of them Dwarven Mountain dice-dens-- passionate, unpredictable aXos girls-- and why, Plague-Mort ain't even half so bad as they say, boy, if you make the right friends, and the tanar'ri pay decently when they decide to pay at all-- and oh, what I'd give for another night on the ol' Torch town... Shame it is, boy, all of it muddled by a drop too many of that damned Styx wash, eh? Eh? Ahhh..." His face lights up, as his eyes stare past Graydon, through him, past the walls of the bar, past the streets of Sigil and beyond time's fabric.Then the half-elf sighs, and shakes clear his head, and seemed to sink an inch closer to the ground. The air seems to go out of him. "The planes are a most wondrous place for a bright young man from the Prime to find himself, his head full of dreams and a fever in his heart-- and some good steel by his side, or mayhap a solid wand-- I envy you all that, son, truly I do. But if I may favour you with a piece of advice, as was told unto me when I first tumbled out the back of that Waterdhavian earth-closet ere these many years-- and perhaps unlike m'self, you'll even hazard a listen..."You suddenly lock eyes. All the twinkle in his eyes suddenly vanishes, blown out like a candle, and all the age that doesn't show on his youthful half-elven features suddenly shows in the chasm-like fear that sits in those two eyes. "Don't. Sign. Anything," he hisses, in a pitched whisper.</blockquote>

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