Rybaer
First Post
Lord Torr Stormrider - human weretiger/rogue/fighter
*Torr's cat-nap is interrupted by the sound of heavy knocking downstairs. He figures that Rosalyn is probably sleeping, so he answers it himself. He takes the note, reads it quickly, then dismisses the messenger with a couple coins.*
What do you think this means? Torr idly asks Stormrider. His symbiont, however, remains silent.
*Torr returns upstairs to his chair in the sun and begins to nap again. When early evening rolls around, Rosayln wakes him for his dinner. Torr notes that she seems to have finally collected herself, but his own mind is distracted enough that he scarcely acknowledges her presence.*
*Following dinner, Torr dresses in darker, subdued evening attire. He grabs his ornamental dagger, slings a black satin cloak over his shoulders, and departs for the Guildhouse. He moves through the streets with grim purpose - his posture and size discouraging harassment. He skirts around the greasy pools of light cast by the laterns hung at street corners and occasionally glances behind him. For some reason, his instincts are telling him to be more alert tonight - and he always listens to those instincts.*
*Once at the Blind Woman, Torr will waste no time in going through the cursory motions to gain access to the basement where he will seek his contact.*
*Torr's cat-nap is interrupted by the sound of heavy knocking downstairs. He figures that Rosalyn is probably sleeping, so he answers it himself. He takes the note, reads it quickly, then dismisses the messenger with a couple coins.*
What do you think this means? Torr idly asks Stormrider. His symbiont, however, remains silent.
*Torr returns upstairs to his chair in the sun and begins to nap again. When early evening rolls around, Rosayln wakes him for his dinner. Torr notes that she seems to have finally collected herself, but his own mind is distracted enough that he scarcely acknowledges her presence.*
*Following dinner, Torr dresses in darker, subdued evening attire. He grabs his ornamental dagger, slings a black satin cloak over his shoulders, and departs for the Guildhouse. He moves through the streets with grim purpose - his posture and size discouraging harassment. He skirts around the greasy pools of light cast by the laterns hung at street corners and occasionally glances behind him. For some reason, his instincts are telling him to be more alert tonight - and he always listens to those instincts.*
*Once at the Blind Woman, Torr will waste no time in going through the cursory motions to gain access to the basement where he will seek his contact.*