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Bob Biter · 11-10-2003, 07:09 PM

Chewing on a boar's leg, Dreggan watched the stranger easily defeat the guard and make his way in the feasting crowd. He stifled a laugh as he saw the newcomer feel proud of himself for his victory. Walking up behind him, he lay a hand on his shoulder and spun him 'round.

Dreggan wasn't an imposing man. He stood at a mere 5' 7'' and appeared to weigh no more than 130 lbs. He was dressed in simple but durable travel clothes, consisting of basic yet slightly wide-fitting dark grey pants, calf high black leather boots, a light grey cotton shirt and a sleevless dark grey tunic. A black sash secured the tunic to his waist, as well as a pair of sai criss-crossed at the small of his back, just below a small backpack. A pair of black leather forearm bands appeared to hold several long needles.

His salt and pepper hair was cut in a short, practical style and his dark brown eyes looked sharp and alert. As he looked the stranger over, he turned to the guard standing at the gates and said, in a mocking tone:

"Don't be proud of yourself for defeating that fop! He's the fourth guard they've put there, as a few of us seem to be more than a match for whatever passes for security here. This one had only defeated two knights before you came along, and one of them was drunk!

The one I battled was a mercenary they hired to beef up defences in preparation for the feast. He was big, but painfully slow, not only did I dance circles around that guy, but I also managed to put my hand on his coin."

As Dreggan said this, he pulled out a small leather pouch filled with a few dozen silver and copper coins.

"Based on the loot, it would seem that the lug was in desperate need of work!"

A loud bellow was immediately heard near the banquet tables. Apparently, the hapless merc had discovered that his pouch was missing and was berating those closest to him at that time, blaming them for the loss of his money.

"Ah good! The entertainment has begun. Now, pardon my curiosity, but I'd like to know both the name of the style you fight with and the one your mother gave you. I'm Dreggan, of the Grey Fog Thieves' Guild. My dextrous Savate style and sleight of hand skills are legendary where I'm from, which is why I had to leave, you understand..."

11-10-2003, 07:09 PM	#2 (permalink)
Bob Biter Non-smokers die everyday Location: Montreal	Chewing on a boar's leg, Dreggan watched the stranger easily defeat the guard and make his way in the feasting crowd. He stifled a laugh as he saw the newcomer feel proud of himself for his victory. Walking up behind him, he lay a hand on his shoulder and spun him 'round. Dreggan wasn't an imposing man. He stood at a mere 5' 7'' and appeared to weigh no more than 130 lbs. He was dressed in simple but durable travel clothes, consisting of basic yet slightly wide-fitting dark grey pants, calf high black leather boots, a light grey cotton shirt and a sleevless dark grey tunic. A black sash secured the tunic to his waist, as well as a pair of sai criss-crossed at the small of his back, just below a small backpack. A pair of black leather forearm bands appeared to hold several long needles. His salt and pepper hair was cut in a short, practical style and his dark brown eyes looked sharp and alert. As he looked the stranger over, he turned to the guard standing at the gates and said, in a mocking tone: "Don't be proud of yourself for defeating that fop! He's the fourth guard they've put there, as a few of us seem to be more than a match for whatever passes for security here. This one had only defeated two knights before you came along, and one of them was drunk! The one I battled was a mercenary they hired to beef up defences in preparation for the feast. He was big, but painfully slow, not only did I dance circles around that guy, but I also managed to put my hand on his coin." As Dreggan said this, he pulled out a small leather pouch filled with a few dozen silver and copper coins. "Based on the loot, it would seem that the lug was in desperate need of work!" A loud bellow was immediately heard near the banquet tables. Apparently, the hapless merc had discovered that his pouch was missing and was berating those closest to him at that time, blaming them for the loss of his money. "Ah good! The entertainment has begun. Now, pardon my curiosity, but I'd like to know both the name of the style you fight with and the one your mother gave you. I'm Dreggan, of the Grey Fog Thieves' Guild. My dextrous Savate style and sleight of hand skills are legendary where I'm from, which is why I had to leave, you understand..." __________________ A plan is just a list of things that don't happen. Last edited by Bob Biter; 11-10-2003 at 08:26 PM..