Essentially what I am looking for first and foremost is something pre-technology. A world of swords, horses, candle-light, large wars and the like. But, I want something with fantasy thrown in. So different races from orcs to elves, Minotaur to dragons, beholders to gelatinous cubes.
Think D&D but you have even more scope to do as you want - nothing is off limits. I really mean nothing.
It will be very open plan. You can start wars, kill off characters at a whim, control a whole army, play one person or five if you can cope. I don't want to stunt your creativity. Any stories or plots you want can happen - of course they have to make sense to an extent, that is the only limit. No aliens from space, someone with a sub-machine gun or LotR-ghost-army-deus-ex-machina.
In fact, my only hard and steadfast rule is don't kill my guy without telling me - I'm willing to have him die if you have a good reason or a particularly good post for it. Just not kill him on a whim.
1. [b Characters] - I'm a male. I roleplay male's accordingly. Whilst I can roleplay female characters, they often are stereotypes or play very minimalist roles. It's a flaw in my roleplaying skill. I also tend to play one character with several part/side characters to flesh it out, but can play several full characters if need be or should said part/side characters become fun to play.
2. [b Post Lengths/Detail] - I'm all for detail. I want to know what a room looks like, whether the air had an acrid smell to it, the quality of the wine and the alluring look one gives another. Describe things and build me a picture as I will for you. As for length, it varies. If two people are talking or fighting, I understand very short posts. You say/ask/do what you want and await response. But likewise, if you're changing the setting or progressing the story or having a fight away from the other person, longer posts make more sense, posts of a thousand words and up, giving that all important detail. Don't think you have to be precise, that it has to be accurate - if it reads well and flows well then I will like it more than factually accurate statements. If you want a bit of guidance/what I do, go look at some of the threads I am in, namely Abberation or To Reclaim a Kingdom.
3. [b Romance] - I've noticed that most roleplays are slowly pulling away from romance focused stories, which I applaud, but this does not mean I am against it. If you want romance of some form then it must be natural and build up to something. As a base rule, I often say no romance until fifty to one-hundred posts. It is a good benchmark I've found that gives time to build up a background, build tension, build a story, create characters with backgrounds before throwing in that fickle emotion. My exception is characters who start off in a relationship though this is rare and needs a good reason why it starts as such.
Firstly, do not apply to this thread. Instead, drop me a PM with any questions, character designs and whatever else you like - but include either a link to a post you've made or tell me a roleplay of yours to look at or show me what you can do. I want to know whomever I roleplay with can write - [i petty of me no?]
If you don't have an example, write me two hundred words describing a room - be descriptive please.
If I am in a thread with you currently I would advise against applying. Those I am roleplaying with currently I am happy with the stories we are writing but I would like to see other people. It's me, not you.
I don't do skeletons. I want to read in your writing, in your words, about your characters personality, their backstory, their thoughts and feelings, their weapons and armour and items/goals/ideals they hold dear to them. A skeleton is.. a cheat sheet. You don't in life get given a list of a persons past and their likes and dislikes.. though I have just described Facebook in essence. Just use your posts to describe your character.
If you want to use a picture so be it, I can use one too if it helps you. But don't feel obligated to find one.
Don't hesitate about being judged either, as the worst you'll get is a 'no thanks'.
You don't have permission to post in this thread.
[tab ][Cutive+Mon [size14 Calliope had known that her distinct lack of funds would be a problem for most, and it seemed Sevorin was no exception. This impression was further embedded into her mind when he fixed her with a look that was ever darker and more glowering than before - she hadn't thought it possible, but apparently it was. In her own defense, Calliope did have coin, though not much. She had earned most of it doing odd jobs here and there on her journey to the Wildlands.
[tab ]Sevorin's words struck a chord inside Calliope's heart. He thought that the only way to escape a dangerous situation was by killing. Though there were some extreme circumstances in which it was necessary, she tended to avoid it when she could. The thought made her slightly insecure about her abilities and the way she handled danger. Surely if a battle-hardened mercenary like him thought it was the only way, she must be softer, more innocent to the world than she thought. Calliope caught the stiffening of Sevorin's stature out of the corner of her eye, and felt herself involuntarily doing the same. Something was off in their surroundings, but she couldn't quite discern what. After a moment of silent watching and listening, the pair relaxed and Sevorin began to speak again.
[tab ]"[+goldenrod I'm sure you're more entertaining than you think, not that I need much entertainment,]" Calliope let another smile sweep across her face. The smile faltered for a moment as her ears twitched, picking up on [i something], though she still couldn't discern what it was. "[+goldenrod Did you pick up on that, too?]" She whispered softly to her walking partner. Something was obviously off, and the air grew thick with silence as the rest of the caravan also began to feel the tension grow. With a loud war cry, the silence was shattered like glass, as bandits descended upon the caravan from both sides. Calliope's eyes flared as she glanced towards Sevorin.
[tab ]"[+goldenrod I suppose I'll get to show you my competency sooner than I expected!]" Calliope quipped. Her brow furrowed slightly as she focused, a sphere of colors appearing in her hand. Pinks and golds and purples and blues and greens swirled together, creating an enchanting sight, which caused not only several commoners in the caravan, but also one or two of the bandits to stop in their tracks and stare. The air around the sphere seemed to shimmer with both magic and, for those close enough to feel it, intense heat. The heat didn't seem to bother Calliope in the slightest, as she began to swirl her hand, causing the colors in the sphere to move faster and faster. With a whispered word, the orb shot forward at one of the bandits and slammed directly into his chest. He cried out as the wind was knocked from his body and he fell to the ground, motionless and silent save for the slight wheezing coming from his chest. Calliope looked quite pleased with herself as she knew he would awake several hours later with a severe ache in his chest, but nothing more. She spared Sevorin a quick glance, hoping to see his reaction to her show of magic.
[google-font http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Montserrat][Montserrat The woman seemed unperturbed by his insinuations of the danger faced outside of the Kingdoms. He rather liked that about her. In an idyllic world she would be able to travel unmolested and safe without guardians. But perhaps in her youth she had not yet seen the devils of the world and become hardened to it. As someone with Elven heritage then she could live a very long life and should pace herself. The desire to see everything, have no worries and just explore was either a youthful endeavour or left to rich elders who spent their waning years flitting about on excursions – though they often never left the civilised world. Putting aside her appearance would be difficult, not least when she advised she would not be able to pay him but rather follow him about.
Sevorin was not a fool, he knew when he was being fleeced of something; this time his company and solidarity. Perhaps he needed to work on his brooding look to keep such hopeful spirits at bay. He was a man who valued his personal time and the self-seclusion of living to his own means. That could be the bitter man who brought with him many negative past experiences of being in groups. Or it could be the wise beliefs of an experienced mercenary who knew not to trust anyone but himself. He had pondered it long enough when she turned those shining eyes and hopeful smile on him once more.
[+dodgerblue “A vast majority think of themselves as competent in a fight. They like to believe they have the fortitude and resolve to kill indiscriminately and at will in order to save themselves. I’ve seen many such people fall by the wayside.”] There was no harm in being truthful with her about things. His eyes ran over her petite figure a final time and followed it with a soft shrug of his shoulders. [+dodgerblue “I admit from your outer appearance you do not strike me as the most competent of combatants,”] he was a touch down heartened that she had tucked her ears back out of sight, [+dodgerblue “but if you got yourself here then I suppose you must have some resolve about you.”]
His hand about the glaive tensed slightly as a feeling of unease ran over him. Perhaps it had been a particularly cold gust of wind but he let his large lustrous eyes look around the caravan momentarily. [+dodgerblue “I will remain in Gentar for a day or two in case more work turns up. If nothing comes available then I will move on to some of the villages not far away. You can join me should you wish, but of course you must pay your own way.”] He spoke softly as his attention was still partly distracted at their environment. Satisfied for the moment that he was looking for nothing, he returned his attention to the spritely woman. [+dodgerblue “I must note; I cannot promise it will be all that entertaining. I’ve been told by some,"] he gestured with his head to the carriage,[+dodgerblue "that I am terrible company.”] He offered a modest smile, high cheekbones quite evident when he did.
[tab ][Cutive+Mon [size14 The man, Sevorin, had fixed Calliope with a particularly glowering look, his honey-gold eyes
locked on her own amethyst ones. His arm had been tense and rigid with muscle under her fingertip,
and the tall Elven glaive that leaned against his shoulder only solidified her notions that he was
hardened by time and battle. The words he spoke were kind and gracious enough, despite his harsh
demeanor. Calliope's fingers ran themselves over the pointed tip of her ear once more, becoming
hyper-aware of their existence there. With a gentle brush of a finger, the ear was mostly hidden by
golden hair. At the same time, Sevorin's hand was raised up, brushing through a dark undercut with
intricate detailing. The designs reminded her of stories her aunt used to tell of tribes of barbarians.
Each tribe was said to have a different style. She wondered which his meant, or if she was entirely
wrong and he had just done his hair that way because he wanted to.
[tab ]The more Sevorin spoke, the more ignorant and dense Calliope felt. Though she had tried her
best to learn more about the world outside the tranquil, secluded glade where she had been raised, it
apparently hadn't been very thorough. Despite the man's warnings, Calliope found herself intrigued
by the port city of Levin; she had never seen the coast and found herself longing for it. She
attempted to imagine what it might look like, but it was difficult - she had never found a very
detailed description of what it looked like, just that it was blue and so large you couldn't see land on
the other side. The largest body of water she had ever seen was the lake close to her home. Calliope
couldn't help but feel her lips curl into a slight smirk at Sevorin's lack of faith in her ability to keep herself safe.
[tab ]"[+goldenrod If I am to be completely honest with you, I want to see everything there is to see. The
mountains, deserts, coasts, forests. I want to see it all,]" Calliope said, excitement coursing through
her lilting voice. "[+goldenrod I doubt I have the amount of coin you would require for your services, but I
think it would be wonderful to join you on your escapades. My only price would be for rooms and
meals. The sights you must see on your travels would be enough to satisfy me. That is, of course, if
you'll have me,]" She paused before continuing with another thought. "[+goldenrod No matter what you
may think of me based on my appearance, I can handle myself quite well in a skirmish.]" Her
amethyst eyes seemed to sparkle with hope as she glanced again towards Sevorin, watching closely
for his reaction.
[google-font http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Montserrat][Montserrat It takes several minutes for the carriages to get on its way and the mass of people to begin shuffling out and under the gatehouse. The gilded carriage with its heavy cargo, giddily supping at a goblet of wine proffered by the effeminate Elf in all probability, is the first to shade and roll its way out. A heavy thump on the roof of the vehicle informs the driver to avoid the potholes lest he stain the satin cushions with wine – though like the guard this man can only sigh and do his best to head along the dirt track with consideration.
Before long the two women on horseback noted before have swiftly trotted forward and taken position at the head of the procession, offering those they pass a nod of their heads in greeting. They are likely hired by the locals with what gold they can muster. With his well trained eye, Sevorin can surmise they would hold themselves well in a fight. Still, it left them rather short of combatants should anything happen. Like the cattle they were the crowd spills forth slowly in a four deep long line, grunting and mumbling to one another, swearing and chastising the bodyguard of the merchant as if he would say anything to the man for his behaviour. He was here to protect the plump man, not to keep up public relations and ensure harmony.
They were under way for all of five minutes before a disturbance from behind drew a curious look back from the guard, not particularly keen on having to break up a fight amongst the herd because someone had stepped on their shoe or given another a dirty look and yet aware that if he was to not endure hours of barked orders by his employer, he must keep the rabble in tow. The general populace of the world were simple minded and that led to simple problems being solved by simple solutions – usually a knife in the gut or a dislodged tooth or two. It was a good enough reason for him to remain out of their throng and up beside the carriage. Those simple solutions were enough for him to keep to his own company for the duration of the journey.
A muttered prayer to those in the skies above left his lips, whispering hope that he could see through this expedition without incident. However he felt the gods were not smiling on him that day, or perhaps they were in a different manner, as a particularly chipper young thing tapped at his arm having caught up to him. She would feel a particularly cold and rigid arm under her light touch, though when his honey-coloured eyes turn toward her there is a fire dancing behind them. His face is fixed, lips taut, jaw set.
Whether she chose to ignore his glowering look, or was too preoccupied with flashing her best smile, extra dimples on the side, or if she was quite simple like the others and couldn't take his hint, she ignored him and instead tried to play off the locals comments on her background. He had to admit she was rather distracting and different in just appearance alone. With ashen skin, long gilded hair, smooth and high cheekbones all framing vivid mauve eyes that looked at him playfully. The smattering of freckles over the bridge of a slender nose is a beautiful touch. Oh how he could imagine most men fell for such an idyllic face to say nothing of her slim physique that put the buxom and thicker women behind in a state of envious displeasure no doubt.
[+dodgerblue “First, Sevorin is just my surname, helps keep things nice and formal I find.”] His voice is an octave above where you imagine it should sit with a tall man as himself, a level of intelligence also sits hidden within. Though he has turned his eyes back forward to half his inspection of her the apology does not sit quite rightly with him.[+dodgerblue “Second, there is no need for apology in my presence Miss Calliope as I understand only too well the callous manners of simple folk with anything,”] he ponders just how to address their shared hardship without ending in insult,[+dodgerblue “uncommon.”] That would have to do.[+dodgerblue “I have merely taken to hiding my non-conformity, as do most like us, so it is quite refreshing to see you so openly flaunt your uniqueness.”]
His gloved hand, the one not holding the Elven glaive against his left shoulder, rises up to brush through his hair, brushing along a decorative undercut that should she be familiar with the world at large, would denote him as part of the Northern Barbarians of the Kuttan Mountains. It was not likely but a chance. Then again, her question in of itself denoted she may not be particularly aware of the world.
[+dodgerblue “As to your question Miss, if you want to find somewhere interesting then I suggest heading back the other way whilst you can.”] His words were littered with threat and warning all the same. This was not a journey for those seeking an adventure of sorts.[+dodgerblue “You seem innocent to this caravan; a late arrival?”] When she offers no protest to his assumption he continues.[+dodgerblue “Well, let me catch you up. We are heading to Gentar. It is the only large town of the Wildlands, surviving mostly due to the stubborn determination of the population. That is at least a night's journey away. A number of villages dot the lands around it, but the only other noteworthy settlement is the coastal port of Levin; though I would highly advise you against such a journey. You would be in chains and sold off to one of the desert Lords harems in hours.”] He was being truthful, though the downturn of his lips showed it was not a truth he liked to speak of.
Rolling his shoulders as his hand returned to his waist, he tried to think of anything else worth note.[+dodgerblue “Depends really what you are looking for. Temples and historical sights? Exotic foods and drink? Treasure and plunder? After I drop off this,”] again he pauses as his eyes run over the curtained window ahead of them,[+dodgerblue “lets go with human – in Gentar, I will be seeking another employer. If you have the coin you will have my guidance.”]
[tab ][Cutive+Mon [size14 Sunlight filtered gently through the tall grain crops, the sounds of wildlife mingling with those of the nearby town, Heran. That very same sunlight fell on and illuminated the pale, but freckled face of a woman.
[tab ]Her appearance was fitting for the region, though it was not the one from which she hailed. Faint traces of dirt mingled with the freckles on her otherwise smooth skin, and her golden blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, finally resting at the small of her back. The pair of ears that parted her hair were pointed at the tips, but not elongated, betraying her mixed heritage. She wore a long dress of gentle greens and browns, cinched at her waist with a simple leather belt, and a plain dark brown cloak was tied around her neck. The few belongings she carried with her were stowed away in a satchel that hung next to her hip. She seemed, to all onlookers, to be unarmored and unarmed, dangerous things to be for a lady travelling alone. However, she seemed unbothered by this fact, a smile splitting her face and showing off her deep set of dimples. The heavy scent of grain gave way to an earthy smell of dirt and manure as the woman exited the field she had been trudging through and entered the limits of Heran.
[tab ]Her vivid purple eyes scanned the main thoroughfare for a few moments before she found her quarry - the caravan. Though she was travelling alone and unarmed, she was of enough intelligence to know not to travel through the Wildlands on her own. By the looks of it, it was about to depart from the town, so the woman rushed towards it, hoping to find her place right in the middle. The middle of anything was decidedly the best place to be in her mind. In the front, one would be the first to be attacked, if an attack came, and though she fancied herself rather capable in combat, she thought to avoid it as often as possible. In the back, all the sights would already have been sullied by everyone else travelling through the area, and the end was generally reserved for the sick, elderly, and infirm. Though she had nothing against those types of people, they were not the type she would prefer to socialize with. So, it was to the middle with her, and she made her way there swiftly.
The woman's ears twitched as they picked up on a rather brash voice cut over the crowd.
[tab ]"[+red [i Sevorin! Get these people moving now! It is too damn hot in here and I will not sit around this filthy cesspool any longer!]]" The woman's eyes, along with everyone else's, it seemed, followed the sound to the voice's origin. It was a rather fat merchant man leaning out of his carriage to yell at another man who was presumably his guard. With some authority, this Sevorin nodded and raised a hand with a swirl. All at once, the caravan started forward, almost like a herd of sheep all deciding at once to follow each other. The woman might've thought it funny if she didn't know the reputation of the area they were entering. The grim faces of those around her reflected those very thoughts - no one was ever excited to enter the Wildlands.
[tab ]Curiosity soon overtook the woman's mind; curiosity about this man, Sevorin, and his perceived authority, about the fat, red-faced man in the carriage, about the history of the area. The most logical place to begin sating this curiosity seemed to her to be the man Sevorin. She did not care for his position near the front of the procession, but slowly made her way up to him anyway. During her journey there, the woman felt several hands brushing through her hair and against her waist, accompanied by hushed whispers, comments on her heritage. The woman was used to comments of this nature, as half-elves were rather rare, especially in this part of the world. However, she brushed the whispers aside as well as the wandering hands and continued on her path to Sevorin. After a few minutes of walking swiftly through the crowd, she made it to her target. She matched his pace beside him and tapped his arm gently to get his attention.
[tab ]"[#DAA520 [i Hello, sir. Sevorin, I presume? My name is Calliope, it's a pleasure to meet you,]]" The woman said, a lilting, melodic voice leaving her lips. These same lips parted a second later, flashing Sevorin a brilliant smile, her dimpled cheeks a bit rosy from the brisk walk to her current position. Calliope reckoned that she was the only person in the crowd with the audacity to smile in the Wildlands. This was only reinforced by a comment, louder than it was likely meant to be, from behind them.
[tab ]"[+grey [i She shouldn't smile here, it's just inviting a curse or an attack! That [b half-breed]'ll be the death of us all!]]" Calliope turned her head in the direction of the man who had said it, golden hair swinging and glinting in the sunlight, and flashed him an even bigger smile, her amethyst eyes glinting with just a hint of spite. After a moment, she turned back to Sevorin with a graceful nod.
[tab ]"[#DAA520 [i My apologies, many people don't take very kindly to my heritage,]]" Calliope said softly, brushing a hand over the pointed tip of her ear. "[#DAA520 [i In any case, do you mind if I ask where you're going after we pass through the Wildlands? I've never been this far away from home, and I'd like to find somewhere interesting to go.]]"
[google-font http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Montserrat][Montserrat In amongst the idyllic setting of the village of Heran, from it's small aged wood and stone structures, to the calm demeanour of it's rural inhabitants and the soft melodies of wildlife that mingled with crackling fires and baying children, stood a fair skinned individual. A man to be precise.
From his outward appearance he was justifiably an outlander. Smooth cheeks and clean pale skin; an oddity amongst the usual bearded and filth-caked populace of the village. About his torso sat shimmering chain mail, wrought of Dwarven silver to the power and strength of triple steel, it was close-woven of many rings, as supple almost as linen and cold as ice. With the addition of a lustrous Elven glaive resting again his shoulder, well; to say he was a man of war was a touch of an understatement.
He stood in the doorway of the tavern, the only one in Heran and central to the lives of those within. See, trade and prosperity flowed from such a place. Wealthy merchants, vagabonds and travellers alike spend good coin for bed and board. In turn the tavern would draw it's resources from the surrounding area; farmers to provide ale, meat, bread, eggs and milk to feed the guests, carpenters to repair often broken chairs and tables and guards to enforce peace – peace was key to the aforementioned prosperity. The tavern of Heran played a greater role than most as it was the last significant outpost and situated on the edge of this particular Kingdom before the Wildlands.
What are the Wildlands you ask? Is it not obvious? A land given to general lawlessness. Bandits and brigands pray on lone travellers, feral animals and wildmen – all but one and the same – thrive with their more primal natures and great monsters abound. Lose your way and you are likely to join them. That is why those of some intellect sought safety in numbers and thus the reason for our beginning; the caravan.
The caravan had been gathering for the past week now. The reasoning behind the long waiting time was to allow for the numbers to swell. Groups and individuals alike had been gathering through the morning, trickling in from surrounding homes or having spent the night in the tavern if they possessed some coin.
The armed man's client in fact, a wealthy merchant and his young male Elven slave, had taken ownership of the more costly accommodation. With no further rooms available the guard had made do with seating himself opposite the merchants doorway. This is how he had spent most of his nights on this already two month long journey; sitting on the floor, often outside with a rough blanket or whatever provisions he had wrapped about his lithe frame. After all chain mail was not made for warmth.
The duo had ignored him for most of their journey and the gesture was returned. The bulky merchant didn't take to the guard and the slave was too shy to speak out of turn. The reclusive male generally keapt to his own company, not in search of stimulating conversation with an overweight prosperous drunk or his timid soft spoken whore.
He did however catch the familiar sound of shifting and groaning floorboards, straining under an almighty load. The master jabbering an order, soft and light footsteps following as the servant left to settle his debts with the tavern owner. Moments later and the rotund man burst forth of the building with a deep grunt and breathing heavily through his nose, a thick boar pelt around his broad shoulders and many bejewelled rings upon his chubby fingers, glinting in the morning sun. Upon seeing his mercenary, for that is what he was, not the man's personal bodyguard but a hired sword, his balding head wrinkled and a scowl tugged at his already drooping jowls. His gut jostled as he turned to confront him, the stretched and stained fabric of his shirt shifting with him.
[i [+red "What are you doing out here? The last order I gave you was to specifically wait outside my chambers! What good is a guard if he is no-where near to protect his master?”]] He smacked his lips and openly scoffed, sucking at the air as his cheeks flushed red.[i [+red “You are next to useless Sevorin. If it were not the day of departure I would think nothing of expelling you from my sight; without payment might I add!"]] He rolled his eyes as if he needed to emphasise his point.
The guard's gloved hand tightened about the glaive handle at the mentioning of withholding his payment, his lips remained pursed and together. Eyes of gold stared across to his larger adversary and the implied threat met it's mark.
[i [+red “B-bloody serf. Just-.. just because you have the slightest modicum of civility, what with your.. simple armour and your crude weaponry, does not make you considered a member of civil society. You are an animal and will amount to little more than that.”]] With spittle running down his chin and fury dancing in his eyes, the wealthy man lifted his chin so that he might look down upon the guard. In return, his opposite shifted the weapon from once shoulder to the other, the movement causing many ripples of fat to shudder in fear of being attacked. With no attack forthcoming however, and shame burning his cheeks a sweet cherry red, he turned and sauntered off toward his personal carriage. Kept to the side of the tavern near to the stable, the driver had awoken much earlier to ready the horses for the journey and ensure it was all well tended for.
Sevorin, as we now know him by, seemed to relax as the tavern deck stopped jolting and he looked down on the balding mass with indifference. In the end he was just a client, a payment, a task to endure and a fee to collect. This was the outcome of poor wealth management. Having to take any work he could find. If he had not been in need of the coin he would have struck the man back in Everlin before they had began.
The Elven slave stepped out from the tavern not long after, tucking a heavy leather pouch onto a hook on his luxurious waistband, tied about a long white tunic. As his gaze rose from the floor to seek the whereabouts of his master, he recoiled upon being confronted by the gaze of Sevorin. The two men had a quiet mutual relationship; don't talk to one another, simply tolerate the other. With a nod of his head toward the stable, Sevorin directed the obedient Elf away with a whispered thanks, blonde curls falling over his young innocent features. In turn, the armed man moved off his perch by the tavern and toward the baying group of travelers waiting to leave, of which two women drew his attention most. There was a human, older in age, sporting metallic shoulder pads that bore the face of a bear and an intriguing scar that curved around her eye. The second, an orc, though given her more amber skin, her orc features more gentle than others he had seen, he surmised her being a half-orc; though what else was in her was a guess at best.
He caught the eye of the human female, and the two watched one another for a few seconds before the carriage came rattling steadily around the corner and made for the gates to the village. A pounding against the inside brought the drivers hands up sharply to pull at the reigns, horses braying at being forced to stop so soon into their rhythm. A fading red curtain covering a small window within the door of the carriage was thrust aside as the guard turned to his client.
[i [+red "Sevorin! Get these people moving now! It is too damn hot in here and I will not sit around this filthy cesspool any longer!"]] No tact of course. Why should he care for the feelings of lesser folk? They were beneath him, their feelings would not bring him sleepless nights. The curtain was curtly pulled back into place.
A faint nod of understanding between the driver and the guard and a gloved hand of Sevorin's went up. Black felt ran from beneath the glove to where the chain mail ended at his upper arm, jostled with the circular action he made. His gaze was brought back to the two women from before and he proffer them each a curt bow of his head before stepping over toward the gates. Those who had been milling around, awaiting some general order from someone with a touch of authority for them to leave, took Sevorin's move as a sign to ready - it was indeed time to leave.
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