Post by Quirbles on Apr 29, 2022 20:39:37 GMT
”REGENT ARCANUM”
HIGHROAD DISTRICT. PRAACH. DUSK.
🜏
🜏
”Mm.”
Duvlas was rather inexpressive— quite hard hard for him to be anything else, really, given the half-plate he’d refused to doff for their trips into the public eye. Things were quite different in Praach, as evidenced by the folk who found this decision worthy to gawk at. Well, that, and the fact that the sun shone clear upon the city limits. The heat of the day had begun to make him swelter within his armor, a hardship that was very unusual to the Knight of Loch Duwain. Truthfully, he was accustomed to putting on more layers, not taking any off. But these were odd times, he supposed. A few months prior, Duvlas and Sersha were pitted against fellow briga and rithe alike amongst the Houses of the Blackpool; now, they were trying to pick a halfling out of a crowd of tall folk. He wasn’t quite sure which he hated more.
”This is useless.” Duvlas eventually muttered, glancing over to his companion as he waded through the outskirts of the crowd. Truthfully, the entire ordeal left him feeling indignant. He had been a Knight of the Blackpool, head of the garrison for House Brenner— his skills reduced to glowering at the legs of a crowd to try and pick out a man who barely rose up to his tassets Lovely.
If he’s wading through a crowd like this, I don’t think he’d know where he was, either.” Still, he’d search until the city guard threw him out of Praach before giving up. He’d come too far to give up now. No matter how grueling— no matter how insufferable the indignity— he would perservere.
For her.
”Don’t s’pose you’ve had any better luck, Sersha?”
Duvlas was rather inexpressive— quite hard hard for him to be anything else, really, given the half-plate he’d refused to doff for their trips into the public eye. Things were quite different in Praach, as evidenced by the folk who found this decision worthy to gawk at. Well, that, and the fact that the sun shone clear upon the city limits. The heat of the day had begun to make him swelter within his armor, a hardship that was very unusual to the Knight of Loch Duwain. Truthfully, he was accustomed to putting on more layers, not taking any off. But these were odd times, he supposed. A few months prior, Duvlas and Sersha were pitted against fellow briga and rithe alike amongst the Houses of the Blackpool; now, they were trying to pick a halfling out of a crowd of tall folk. He wasn’t quite sure which he hated more.
”This is useless.” Duvlas eventually muttered, glancing over to his companion as he waded through the outskirts of the crowd. Truthfully, the entire ordeal left him feeling indignant. He had been a Knight of the Blackpool, head of the garrison for House Brenner— his skills reduced to glowering at the legs of a crowd to try and pick out a man who barely rose up to his tassets Lovely.
If he’s wading through a crowd like this, I don’t think he’d know where he was, either.” Still, he’d search until the city guard threw him out of Praach before giving up. He’d come too far to give up now. No matter how grueling— no matter how insufferable the indignity— he would perservere.
For her.
”Don’t s’pose you’ve had any better luck, Sersha?”