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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Nightbreeze" data-source="post: 4267071" data-attributes="member: 46755">Harstard wakes up with a sour mood. His gaze shifts from the blankets to the window and then to the armor. He groans, sits on the edge of his bed and watches the armor, positioned on a high shelf for at least half an hour without moving and saying anything. Then he slowly unwraps a pack, puts away the notes about trollish grammar (he is going to write a book on it sooner or later), and finally finds what is he looking for: a mixture of ogre's powdered horn, silver leafs from Trieliera, a northern rare tree, and amber. The resulting cream is hard, silver-colored, and when applied to the naked human skin and treated with oil, extremely resistant to water, blood and alcholol: as a matter of fact, the only way to take it away is the application of Bittergreen Cheren, another tree from the north. Taking the resulting admixture, without using any mirror, he just designs two simple, curled, horizontal lines just under his left eye, stretching from the nose to the ear. For a warrior from his little and strange order, this means that his "tejore", campaign/meaning, has just began. Over time, when he feels that it is entering new phases, and when he understands it more clearly, he will add other symbols. Then he stares again at his armor, and with a half smile mutters Destiny, huh?He wears his full battle equipment, wears Worlof and heads down the stairs. After greeting his bad-mannered monstrous sized horse, who has managed to scare the hell out of all servants in just two days, he heads for the Drunken lord.</blockquote>

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