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Message: <blockquote data-quote="mhd" data-source="post: 3571377" data-attributes="member: 16805">By now, even the late-comers and more oblivious are able to detect a gaggle of children hiding behind a particularly impressive trash heap. A few heads are coming forth, now that the reptile is a bit further away. One of the larger boys, helmeted with a rusty pot, is talking to his followers. After a short discussion, a freckled something is prodded towards you. After being pushed for a few feet, he manages to find a few specks of dignity, flattens his coat (Brelish standard issue, about four sizes to large) and strides towards you, one hand thrust deeply into a pocket, the other running nervously through his hair. By doing this, he loosens some of his mane, and he's close enough now that you're able to see a few bald spots strewn randomly across his scalp.With something that almost looks like a dance, he makes a few hops around both the fastieth and its owner and finally ends up standing in front of Lt. Tensen. "G'day, suh. I'm called Stropford. Was told to keep waitin' for folks right here, showing them to wherever they wan' go... Ah've even been to the foot of the tow'r where the rich man was made a flag on! Hope you're not on pay-troll like the last buncha guys. The places left aren't the niciest."</blockquote>