The Cat Came Back

Status
Not open for further replies.

Swiet Dibbs

Newbie
The front doors of the tavern swing open with an ill-tempered sigh, and a bald man in studded black leather lorica pauses upon the threshold as his tired, grim eyes sweep the mezzanine shrewdly. He squints, crow's feet bunching at the corners of his eyes, before he lets the travelling bundle of bedding, pouches, and shield drop from his shoulder to hang from one hand at his hip; the pommels of twin blades extrude from the pack, glinting in the light of the oil lamps as his shoulders roll once.
As though a dire decision has been reached, Swiet Dibbs steps into the tavern to find a room for the night; his pouch is light, just enough for food and accommodations for the days prior to the impending journey to Dark Elven lands.
The festival beckons, and all crows are coming home to pick at the flesh of glories as-yet unconquered.
He has been away too long.
Durgo will be angry, but that is a constant state for the man.
Vaeger is another concern entirely; Swiet was to join his retinue, before other... events conspired to drag the warrior away from his commitment.

"Blood's in the cracks, mate..." mutters Swiet, inexplicably, before he heads to the bar.
 
Swiet lets his pack clatter to the floor as he bellies up to the bar and hooks a stool over with his heel.
I wonder who might grace the tourney this year? Been a bitter year. I could stand to hear Kai sing again... even Croxus' frown would be a welcome sight. Or Brunor; his tips on the finer points of blade work have been handy.

I hope my companions do not tarry overlong. The rooms seem to be filling, from the look of this place...


He gestures a callused hand to the barkeep, setting his coin purse on the bar before him.

"A drink an' a room if you've either to offer, guv."
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top