|
Post by Blossom on Jan 19, 2015 4:48:37 GMT
It is a calm and peaceful night. The sky is mostly clear, and the half-moon shines amidst the twinkling stars. With it being late winter, any measurable warmth provided by the sun has long passed. Though beautiful, the night is bitter and cold, and your breath condenses into faintly visible puffs. Patches of snow, slightly melted in some places litter the ground.
Trees have become much more common now, forming alongside the road. Perhaps one could say they've already entered Mistledale, though another might argue the official border has not been crossed yet. Regardless, many trees are scattered about the landscape in rather close proximity to each other along with brush. Combined with the darkness of the night, it does hamper visibility quite a bit. The insects are not active yet. The night is eerily quiet, only broken by the occasional hoot of an owl or calling of a wolf in the distance. That, and a bit of modest, idle chatter.
For whatever reason, a small caravan has been traveling on the road from Tilverton to Ashabenford. It is said there's safety in numbers, and these people heartily agree. From a few merchants transporting low-value goods, to some migrants, a bard, a religious pilgrim, and a gruff but polite-enough half-orc, it seems people from all walks of life have come on this journey. What is your story?
|
|
|
Post by Sneachtan Rugadh on Jan 19, 2015 5:22:06 GMT
Sneachtan listened to the sound of snow crunching under his boots as he walked near the front of the caravan. It had always been a familiar sound to him, wherever he was. Growing up in the far north, cold temperatures, ice, and snow were a regular part of life. What little cold got through his massive fur clothing was comforting and usefull. Helped keep him awake.
It had been a quiet week. He'd already been payed in full by these folks to keep them safe from any attackers. Or, more likely, to keep any folks from attacking the caravan in the first place. Even wearing normal clothing, he did not look like someone the average person would want to take in a fight. I must look like a beast in all this fur. He thought to himself as a small smirk came up on his face at the thought of looters running away at the mere sighting of him.
Luckily for all parties involved, it had been a quite, boring week of traveling. These folks were nice enough. He'd spooken to some. Average agreeable folk who probably couldn't fight worth a damn. That's what folks like me are for, I guess. He he shook his head. Focus. You have a job to do. These folks are you're responsibility He gave the surrounding area a scan. No sign of any creatures in the woods lurking about, waiting to strike.
Quiet and boring. Again. Just like it ought to be.
|
|
Bran
New Member
Posts: 4
|
Post by Bran on Jan 19, 2015 5:52:54 GMT
Plodding through snow and rime, Bran holds her cloak tightly, stamping as often as she can during the group's march to keep the snow from building on the soles of her shoes, fearing it would lead to her slipping and making a fool of herself. She'd grown up in the Greenfields, and while she was used to a harsh winter, she wasn't used to a harsh Northern Faerunian winter, and took every precaution she could to keep from catching cold, though the tip of her nose grows red with the nip of the winter wind. Watching her breath form clouds of crystalline mist with each gasp and word, the warrior crooks an auburn eyebrow as she cranes her head around to take another look at the surroundings. Truly, the elven lands were quite beautiful, and she had a little more than a passing fancy in the contents of the ruins of their forgotten kingdoms. "S'it warm out here, or is it just me?" she jokes, trying to liven the already jovial mood. "Yeah, shouldn't have worn all these rags over my bikini. How'm I supposed to tan like this, anyways? I mean, come on, which one'a you whizzies is casting fireballs out here? Y'all need to help us cool down in this sweltering storm before one of us catches heatstroke!"
Seeing a few smiles crack on the faces of some of the younger children traveling with their group, Bran smiles to herself and reminds herself to keep a keen eye, as playful as she was. The instant you drop your guard, Captain Hildebrand always used to say, is the instant you find yourself swarmed by enemies at the gates. With her sword bobbling at her belt and round shield strapped securely to her backpack, the traveling sword keeps a swift pace, as if seemingly unhindered by her burdens.
"So who wants to sing something? I know a good one for travelin': Ohhhh, there once was a maiden named Rhiligladd the Fair, with eyes like diamonds and cornsilken hair! A lady of money and magic to spare! She huffed, and she puffed, and set out for Thay, for her husband was surly and surely was--well, wait, that's probably not a very good traveling song: it ends with a moral about barrels of eggs sitting out in the hot sun. "
|
|
|
Post by Argudas De Soleni on Jan 19, 2015 6:53:40 GMT
Temperature: Significantly Below Average Traveler Tolerance.
Emotional State of Caravan: Jovial.
Conclusion: Status Acceptable
Argudas plodded along with caravan. It was unusual for merchants to travel the roads at night. It was one thing for an ever waking construct, but ordinary folk had to rest sometime. In the end it didn't matter as long as their destination was reached on time. A job would be starting soon enough in Ashabenford and the Warforged had no desire to be late. He pulled his large cloak tighter. He didn't actually feel the cold due to one of his myriad magical trinkets, but sometimes it was better to keep up appearances.
It had been an odd experience, joining the caravan. Few people had seen one of his kind before, and fewer still one of his lesser stature. There was some reluctance at first over traveling with a creature so alien, but the fact that Argudas could keep watch all night every night was more than enough to sway any doubters.
The being of living metal glanced around. It didn't take an expert eye to tell who among the group were the merchant and who were the hired help. At one end of the caravan Argudas could just make out a large human in a thick fur coat chatting keeping an eye fixed outward on all the possible lines of attack. A chorus of childrens' laughter rose from further down the caravan, no doubt caused by the redheaded woman with the unending need to tell jokes. Several other hired grunts rounded out the group though they didn't appear to be anything exceptional. It was all for the best. While Argudas enjoyed conflict on occasion, it could get wasteful and expensive really fast. What with the upcoming job, an easy trip was preferable. That established, some of these better armed guards could very well be looking into the same job and a chance to see them in action before hand could be valuable, even if the odds seemed unlikely.
As...invigorating as discussions with the merchants could be, Argudas had found worn out their meager stores of knowledge within a few days. The Warforged quickened his pace, a task that proved harder than admitable, and caught up with the human named Sneachtan.
"Have any bandits peeked their heads into view? It is unlikely they are absent."
|
|
|
Post by Blossom on Jan 19, 2015 8:44:48 GMT
A merchant, a halfling at that, riding the front wagon seemingly answers for the large guy that looks like a beast. Or at the very least, it's a comment. "We ain't got tha' much to steal. If they knew what we 'ave, don't think they'd even botha with tha lot of ya. But times are tough these days, an' I guess there's a chance some blokes out there dun know wha' we 'ave." Having realized he seemingly butted in on a conversation, he politely nods and smiles. "Right, well thanks again..." he offers, before craning his head completely back and yelling, "Oi! Cornsfeld! You reckon we gone long enough now?"
An affirmative shout back and the merchant nods again, squinting ahead in the road before shrugging and leading his wagon off it whenever it seemed opportune. The trees weren't dense enough to make such a task difficult, and he meandered between the trees, heavily biased towards the left. The rest of the caravan followed, and in the end, the group had made a rough circle, the lead wagon pointing toward the road, ready to begin their journey tomorrow. " 'ere's a good a spot as any I suppose," he says, taking some tobacco from a little tin and and lighting up a pipe with it, with some difficulty of numbed fingers.
The caravan settles down, the children feeling much safer if any were even worried, so long as they stayed within the circle of wagons as they've been told to do. Some people start to clear the center area of excess snow, putting aside some frozen sticks and small logs. Others decide to join in the endeavor. A merchant donates some spare firewood, fine, dry but sappy logs to last a while and burn warmly. Others without wagons to sleep in smooth off their own little areas, clearing snow and setting up tents, placing their bedrolls and blankets inside. Soon a nice fire is going in the middle of it all, the smell of salted pork gently being cooked permeates the area. It seems quite cozy, homely even for being outside of town in the dead of winter. Maybe even safe. But yet, for the especially paranoid, you feel as though someone, something is watching...
|
|
|
Post by Sneachtan Rugadh on Jan 19, 2015 19:32:51 GMT
Sneachtan listened to the red headed girl start cracking her jokes. She was one of the few people here who looked like they could handle themselves in a fight, other than the rest of the hiered help. I really ought to talk to her. She seems interesting enough. If nothing else, she might make a good sparring partner. I could use the practice.
Just at as he had finished that though, he heard its voice. "Have any bandits peeked their heads into view? It is unlikely they are absent."
He wasn't sure what to think of the... construct? Hell, he didn't know if it was a construct. All he really guessed was that it wasn't a... how had he put it? "That guy in a tiny metal suit" as one of his less intelligent fellow guardsmen had called it. The construct hadn't done anything bad, so he was okay as far as Sneachtan was concerned. His size helped matters. He couldn't cause THAT much trouble before he would be stoped. But he couldn't help but be curious. Where was it from? Why did it talk so... differently from everyone else? Why was it traveling?
He opened his mouth to respond when the halfling merchant by his side answered for him. "We ain't got tha' much to steal. If they knew what we 'ave, don't think they'd even botha with tha lot of ya. But times are tough these days, an' I guess there's a chance some blokes out there dun know wha' we 'ave."
"Basically what the halfling said." He said with a tiny amount of irritation at being interrupted. The hafling began calling back to other merchants . "Besides," he continued "most folks wouldn't try to pick a fight with someone who looks me." The caravan started heading off the road and into the woods. The rest of the folks in the caravan started to set up a camp sight as he circled the perimeter for any trouble. Most trouble I'll likely find is a wolf or two. Nothing I can't handle.
|
|
|
Post by Blossom on Jan 20, 2015 6:27:57 GMT
Sneachtan made his rounds without incident for some moments. Then a tuft of snow seemed to fall on him. At least that's what it seemed like through his thick furs. If he were to glance up, he was under some tree branches. Perhaps a breeze knocked some snow off onto him? Regardless, even if he were to look all around, there was nothing. He casually moved on, but the second time he passed, it happened again in the exact same spot. Looking all around, there was still nothing to be seen or heard. But surely this was not a coincidence?
(I'd like, at a bare minimum, 1 post a day. Preferably I'd be overjoyed with many posts a day! But in any case, it's no worry. If you don't get around to posting, worst thing that happens is you are "skipped" briefly.)
|
|
|
Post by Sneachtan Rugadh on Jan 20, 2015 20:33:02 GMT
Sneachtan made his rounds without incident for some moments. Then a tuft of snow seemed to fall on him. At least that's what it seemed like through his thick furs. If he were to glance up, he was under some tree branches. Perhaps a breeze knocked some snow off onto him? Regardless, even if he were to look all around, there was nothing. He casually moved on, but the second time he passed, it happened again in the exact same spot. Looking all around, there was still nothing to be seen or heard. But surely this was not a coincidence?
(I'd like, at a bare minimum, 1 post a day. Preferably I'd be overjoyed with many posts a day! But in any case, it's no worry. If you don't get around to posting, worst thing that happens is you are "skipped" briefly.) What the hells were you thinking? Of course it's just a coincidence. Sneachtan thought to himself. Wind blows. Snow falls off trees. Happens all the time. Sneachtan quickly glanced up as he brushed off whatever landed on his shoulder. He saw nothing but tree branches and the moon-lit sky, confirming his lack of suspicion. He let out a sharp whistle as he headed back towards camp. "Anything?" Asked one of the other hired gaurds, a dwarf by the name of Durbar. Not much for conversation. "Lot's of snow, but that's all. You've got night shift." The dwarf mumbled something as he walked outside of the circle. Sneachtan began to hear the flapping of wings, and held out his right arm in front of him. "Found nothing up ahead. Things should be clear for tomorrow " His raven familiar said as he landed on Sneachtan's arm. "Good to hear it. Get some rest." He said to the bird. I ought to hit the sack myself. He headed over to an unclaimed spot, and took off heavy fur coat, and then his armor. Maybe it's a bit colder than I thought. Nothing that bad though. He still had some clothing on under neath the metal and fur layers, so it wasn't that bad. He put his fur coat back on and began to get out his bedroll and blanket.
|
|
|
Post by Argudas De Soleni on Jan 20, 2015 21:32:40 GMT
Night: Peaceful, Silent
Argudas took one more stroll around the camp. The last of the tents were pitched and the talking was finally beginning to die down. Confident that the defenses would delay any attackers by at least half a minute, the Warforged took a seat by the one of the larger fires and took off the mask of persuasion it had forged for itself. Argudas turned the mask around to gaze into it's now empty sockets. Moments later a small tool was in hand and the construct set about making small etchings. They didn't have any magical significance, but the act of making them did help release some tension.
Nobody else at the fire seemed to notice and/or care what the alien creature was doing. The eyes of a few children bulged noticibly but any adults still there were dozing off. Such peace rarely lasted long, but it was nice to enjoy while it lasted. And luckily for Argudas, the peace would last all night.
|
|
|
Post by Blossom on Jan 20, 2015 23:04:38 GMT
Blossom watched as the large man, who looked a lot like a grizzly bear standing on its hind legs, patrolled by, a mirthful grin spreading upon her face. He seemed like a nice enough person. Taking a brief moment of concentration... yes, she could definitely feel it. The pixie was a bit lonely. She had been for a few days now. She felt like meeting some people, but there were so many in this caravan...
She decided she'd try and get the man's attention. She picked up a little snow and threw it. The little ball of snow harmlessly bounced off his back and fell apart. She held her breath, peeking from behind a tree (invisibly, of course) waiting to see the man's reaction, but he didn't even give it a second thought. When the man came around again, she threw another clump of snow at him, which dispersed on his shoulder. Now she really had to try to suppress a playful giggle. Still, the man wasn't in the least bit perturbed. Not that she wanted to anger or scare him. She was merely playing around.
To the pixie's dismay, the man headed back toward the camp. She frowned a bit, as the large beast-man was replaced by a stout dwarf. Dwarves, she found, sometimes were not as a friendly. Blossom pondered what to do, but after a while, she decided she'd say hello to this dwarf in the same manner. She scooped up another little bit of snow, compacting it slightly, and threw it at the dwarf when he was looking in another direction. Unlike the large, burly man, the dwarf jumped slightly and began looking around suspiciously. It was almost comical, the way he peered up at the trees, like they were threatening to attack him. It took Blossom a lot of willpower to not laugh out loud. After a few minutes, the dwarf had calmed down, muttering, "Ya, a lot o' snow, a'right..." in the typical accent dwarves carry.
A second little snowball hit the dwarf square on the nose this time - to Blossom's mistake, as she didn't mean to hit him right in the face - and she couldn't help but giggle. The dwarf flinched, nearly stumbling backwards, and when he heard the laughing he barked, "'ho's there!? Show yerself!"
Blossom remained invisible and replied, "Nobody!" before bursting out laughing again. The dwarf hefted his axe into both his hands, in a battle-ready pose, glaring out into the woods towards his invisible assailant. The snow before the dwarf shifted and flattened, and yet also kicked up in odd ways. Before him, the pixie materialized, rolling around in the snow and still giggling. Her extremely long hair wrapped about her body, nearly entangling her, considering her position on the ground. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit your face," she managed to squeeze out, despite her fit of laughing.
The dwarf's eyes widened briefly at the sight of the beautiful but tiny, naked being in front of him before narrowing in aggression instead. He lunged toward the pixie, grabbing a large, fistful of hair and dragging her up. "So, forest pest, ye like throwin' snow, do ya?" he growled.
Mean dwarf! This is definitely one of the mean ones!
Blossom gasped, beginning to flap her wings again to keep her weight from pulling on her hair. "Uh, uh, y-yes? I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you angry!" The dwarf did not look very appeased by her apology and instead pulled her back toward the camp. "We'll see wha' tha others decide to do wit' ya," he said darkly. The pixie gulped and turned herself invisible again, and she whispered something in Sylvan, trying to cast a spell that might make him a bit more friendly and forgive her, but she couldn't do it being dragged around like this.
The dwarf came back to the camp with his fist clenched, seemingly holding something. "Look wha' I found spyin' on us an' harrassin' me wit' snowballs," he said, looking over to find nothing in his hands. He took his axe and slapped the flat end of it at thin air, and it was oddly stopped by something with an audible thunk. Blossom flinched and decided to turn herself visible before the dwarf tried something that would prove harmful to her. She looked at all the people in the camp who stared back at her with an equal, if not more intense, interest.
|
|
Bran
New Member
Posts: 4
|
Post by Bran on Jan 21, 2015 6:17:03 GMT
Remaining silent for once in her life as the group settles down on the roadside, Bran takes a few moments to clear her thoughts with a quick snowball fight with some of the children, having a good laugh about it as she becomes soaking wet after a few hours of hard play. Warming herself by the fire, she takes some time to whet her sword, looking to the man who speaks with his bird and the walking hunk of metal and wood. Odd people, she thinks, looking to the standouts among the faceless crowd. Somehow, they reminded her of the people she'd traveled with for years, which causes a crooked smile to spread across her lips. But before she can raise her voice to see whether either of them would care to tell her their stories, she hears Durbar's voice call out from the brush, and stands with a jerk, pulling her sword and shield to attention, leaving her helmet laying at the campfire just outside of her small leather tent. Wild-eyed and grimacing at the thought of an attack, she calms and lowers her stance when the dwarf mentions he was being pelted by snowballs--and by a pixie at that. "Don't think I've ever seen this before. What's that in your hands, Durdur? A new lover? Mighty tiny!" the former guardswoman jests, sheathing her sword and shouldering her shield as she gets closer to the dwarf, scratching her scalp in thought. "So you say this thing's been givin' you trouble? She doesn't look like she'd hurt a fly. Well, maybe a fly, but nothin' bigger. S'what's the deal, dragonfly? You the one that's been keeping the other guards on edge, or what? And why?"
|
|
|
Post by Argudas De Soleni on Jan 21, 2015 6:36:22 GMT
Argudas heard a loud commotion coming from another part of the camp. In moments the tools were put away and the mask snapped into place. It didn't take long to find the source of the noise. One of the more boisterous Dwarves had left his post to show of...well nothing. He looked like he was grasping something but below his hand was nothing but air. The Dwarf was obviously frustrated by this as well seeing as he promptly swung at the empty space with his ax. Oddly enough it stopped with a loud, metallic clink mid swing leaving all the onlookers startled. Within seconds, however, a small creature materialized, it's bright pink hair still clenched tightly in the Dwarf's meaty grip. Argudas filed through memories, trying to ascertain what the creature was. It looked to be a over-sized sylph or pixie of some kind.
Danger: Low-Medium Potential Knowledge: Substantial Conclusion: Intervention
Before Argudas could express disdain for the Dwarf, the fighter known as Bran had intervened with her unique brand of humor. Still, her question was valid.
"Never underestimate a creature based on its size." The Warforged intoned while giving a sidelong glance up towards the fighter two feet taller than itself. The construct turned its attention to the captive, an expression of guarded curiosity on its face. "What is your purpose here?"
|
|
|
Post by Blossom on Jan 21, 2015 6:59:28 GMT
So many people...
Blossom was quite nervous and shy being surrounded by all these people. It had nothing to do with her state of dress, which was natural and comfortable to her; it was more like stage fright. A fear of crowds, anxiety when around so many people... and they all just happen to be staring at you. That, and people were dangerous in numbers. She had seen angry mobs before, people burning witches and other such things that scared them, things that maybe were only different and they didn't understand. But now maybe she was the next one to be lynched.
The young, redheaded woman stepped up first and and addressed her. Then a strange being she had spotted previously. Seemingly an entire suit of armor, or a doll of some kind, but it was real, life-like, and it moved on its own. "On-on edge? No!" Blossom responded, shaking her head, though it was hard to think of something else to say when she was so anxious. "I just... wanted to say hello... b-but play a little game first.." the pixie said, looking down and feeling rather guilty.
|
|
Bran
New Member
Posts: 4
|
Post by Bran on Jan 21, 2015 7:14:54 GMT
Bran takes another, more thorough observation of the curious warforged man, his stocky form something she'd never seen before, and was honestly quite curious about. "I have a few questions for you later, but none of them relevant to the situation at hand. Just thought I'd pepper that into this conversation. And...yeah, I've known halflings who could knock you on your ass with a good kick to the shin, so you're totally right there." Looking back to the pixie, the fighter's eyes soften and she raises her arms, palms open in a gesture to call attention to the pixie. "But I mean come on...look at her, she's adorable. You there, you wanna play? Should'a just joined in earlier. These peoples' kids love that kind of stuff. I'm sure they'd let you in if you just did us all a favor and just answered their questions calmly. On my honor as a constable, you won't come into any unprovoked harm, ma'am. So seriously, make with the chatter, and the sooner we get through with all this, the sooner I can dig into Mama Hin's tasty-smelling supper and get some shut-eye. How's that sound? Some hots and a cot? Must be cold being out there, dressed like that, doin' whatever you were doin'."
Smiling and attempting to appear as friendly as she is able, Bran looks between the dwarf, pixie, and warforged, as if expecting someone to speak up and carry on the conversation, with an almost birdlike response time in the shifting of her gaze and facial expressions.
|
|
|
Post by Blossom on Jan 21, 2015 7:51:40 GMT
"Answer their questions.. make with the chatter?" the pixie repeats, slightly confused about what questions were being asked of her and what she should be saying. The dwarf, however, cleared that up for her. Though his grip over her hair did not loosen, his tone went more from anger to sternness. "Aye, like wha' kind o' game ye were playin'. A snowball fight isn't fair when you cannae see yer opponent, and it certainly ain't no way o' greetin' naebody."Blossom looked over to Durbar apologetically and said, "Well... it wasn't a snowball fight it was..." Her eyes wandered to everyone else again, as she once again felt a wave of anxiety wash over her, and she tried her best to rationalize her silly behavior. "You see, the game was... it's kind of like trying to get someone's attention but you stay hidden. You keep doing it until they're sure someone is with them and they ask who's there." Blossom nods, thinking that's exactly what she did. Because when Durbar acknowledged her presence, she revealed herself. Dwarven accents are hard.
|
|
|
Post by Argudas De Soleni on Jan 21, 2015 8:08:33 GMT
The Warforged turned his gaze to Bran. "I would be willing to exchange queries later."
Argudas' turned his gaze back to the crowd. There were a few scowls and a few smiles from the members of the caravan but the mood still seemed mostly uncertain and neutral. A few were peeking out of their tents, doing their best to wipe the sleep from heavily lidded eyes.
"Does it matter what she was doing? So long as the caravan is unharmed, I see no reason to imprison her. If it assuages fears, I can keep an eye on her through the night." It turned an eye towards the Dwarf. "Are you complaining about the fairness of a snowball fight with a child?"
|
|
|
Post by Blossom on Jan 21, 2015 8:28:21 GMT
At the machine's questions, the Dwarf's eyes harden and his grip tightens. "Nae, this be no child. It's a fairy, one o' them wee folk. Tricksters they are, stealin' people's belongin's, playin' pranks, leadin' lost travelers to their dooms." He honestly sounded like he knew what he was talking about until he added, "It be naught more than vermin round these parts, lil' forest gremlins tha' spy for tha trees."
As much as I love how much you guys have posted recently, I think it's time to give Sneachtan a chance now. x)
|
|
|
Post by Sneachtan Rugadh on Jan 21, 2015 15:13:05 GMT
It took Sneachtan a while to get all the way to the other side of the camp, considering he had to step around everyone else who was sleeping or just waking up from the commotion that the dwarven guard was causing. "It be naught more than vermin round these parts, lil' forest gremlins tha' spy for tha trees." Durbar said, referring to the slyph that was stuttering in front of him.
"Spying for the trees? That has to be the most stereotypical thing I've ever heard come out of a dwarf's mouth." Sneachtan said, finding it hard to suppress a grin. "Are you sure you didn't have just a bit too much to drink tonight? I've heard it takes a lot of alcohol to make a dwarf good and truly drunk."
"I've not hada damn drop! I dinna even bring any with me." The dwarf exclaimed.
"Well, then that's a shame. I was going to ask you if i could have a bit of your stash." He heard a few chuckles at this. "All kidding aside, let the slyph go. What's she going to do to us? Chew our toes off? Kill us with the snow? " That's my specialty.
|
|
|
Post by Blossom on Jan 21, 2015 15:37:56 GMT
Blossom's eyes began to water as Durbar said all these terrible things about her. Maybe some of what he said was true for her kind, maybe even partially in her case. She despaired, fearing she would be punished or killed for just trying to play some games. Then she saw Sneachtan approach, the man who she tried to reach out to first, and her eyes lit up. Just as she had hoped, he stood up for her.
The dwarf exhaled frustratedly and grunted, "Fine. She's all yours, laddie." He released the pixie, having to flail his arm and flick his fingers a bit to get rid of all the hair clinging to his hand before stomping back to his post. He turned his head around once to look back and shake it. With that, any other people in the caravan who might have thought she was threat had their fears assuaged, and now it seemed there were either people interested in her or people disinterested, going back to what they were doing before. Probably sleeping.
Blossom looked up to Sneachtan, down to Bran, then Argudas, the main advocates of her freedom and safety and sighed with relief. "Th-thank you. And, I'm sorry I... I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. I guess I should have just said hi first..." She looks down at the snow, unable to meet the eyes of all the people she came close to ticking off.
|
|
|
Post by Argudas De Soleni on Jan 23, 2015 1:45:08 GMT
Argudas tilted its head, glad to see that groups' tensions was quickly fading away. "There was no trouble. If you really wanted to hurt the Dwarf, you wouldn't have thrown a snowball at him. What is your name?"
|
|