Cen
Cavalier
Cowards die many deaths, the valiant taste of death but once.
Posts: 196
Profession: Bodyguard
Affinity: Light
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Cen on Nov 1, 2012 21:31:26 GMT -6
Cen waited about while the medicine was being made in front of him. Well he sat down in his bed while the medicine was being made in front of him. He would have kicked his legs, but they were held up by his mattress.
----------------T-t-time Skip!-------------------
Cen was not a big fan of the taste of the medicine, but he didn't want to hurt the Crimson Mages ego.
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Vander Rimgate
Thief
The following statement is true: the preceding statment is false.
Posts: 29
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Post by Vander Rimgate on Nov 2, 2012 15:29:28 GMT -6
I should have taken up magic, Vander decided. Never mind that he had no idea how it worked or whether he even had a knack for it; as he spent some time cleaning the (very) cheap bedding in the (very very) cheap room, he felt considerably more refreshed than...normal, maybe? Not that he payed attention to how he felt when things were 'normal,' given that 'normal'--
Getting sidetracked. What really mattered was the question of what to do. The thief considered his options. He could always stay with the cleric and lance-wielder--Cen? The name had been tossed around at least once--although seeing as the latter was recovering from some illness or another, it would probably be a boring wait until he recovered. And had the cleric called Vander 'Pot'? Vander thought some part of his mind had cracked during the conversation, because trying to remember everything after the Crimson what-ever's body slam resulted in a fuzzy haze that implied, "There are some things man was never meant to know. Since you screwed that up, you're just not going to remember it."
He was getting terribly dramatic again.
Then again, he knew the...Cen. He knew Cen somewhat, and the Crimson Cleric seemed like an interesting character in just about every bizarre sense of the word. And who knew, if the healer knew what he was doing, Cen could be on his feet soon enough; between the hick, the deranged, and Vander, there might be plenty to hold his attention.
And, of course, the first two were probably still in the attic, so that was where Vander headed, remembering at the last second to beam at the inn-keep--who wasn't paying attention anyway and was missing some quality acting, but nevermind--and ascended the stairs to the attic room.
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Elias
Mage Knight
The Crimson Mage
I'm just saying that the problem isn't going away, no matter how good we get at stabbing them.
Posts: 451
Etruria Fame: 1
Sacae Fame: 2
Lycia Fame: 1
Profession: The Crimson Mage
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Profile (updated)
OoC Alias: Elias
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Post by Elias on Nov 4, 2012 23:58:51 GMT -6
"Doesn't taste very good?" He didn't say anything, probably to be polite, but that grimace told more then he did. "Good. Medicine's not supposed to taste good. That way you try to avoid getting sick." Elias was a firm believer in the 'the best medicine is bitter' argument. Could he of added things to make it taste like a culinary masterpiece? Well if anyone could, Elias could. Still he wouldn't, would be a shame. The world will just have to live without Elias' wonderful medical banquets.
He grabbed his staff and waved it around like a deadly blade, pointing it directly at the sick. "Now. Do I need to tell you to rest again, or am I going to have to knock you out this time? I swear, what is with you steel swinging types and the inability to take ten seconds to rest." He grinned, but that didn't mean much. It was harder to find a time when Elias wasn't grinning, it was pretty disconcerting at times. Apparently it's not 'normal' to be smiling when you blow things up or something. Bunch of pansies.
Despite his threat, all that came from him was a grumpy grunt. He took the weapon poised to give the soldier a healthy bump on the head and instead waved it over him. A blue light gently glowing at the tip and engulfing the man. He wasn't hurt, and magic wasn't the best thing to heal sickness, but it would help his body get better. It, with the medicine and a bit of rest (assuming he ever got any) and he would be as good as red in a few days.
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Cen
Cavalier
Cowards die many deaths, the valiant taste of death but once.
Posts: 196
Profession: Bodyguard
Affinity: Light
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Cen on Nov 6, 2012 10:17:29 GMT -6
Cen began to feel tired. He was getting to much sleep lately, he'd never be willing to do anything again. He lay his head back and whispered, "Thank you." He closed his eyes, these sheets were soft. He had no idea what they could have been made of, but they were incredibly soft. Is this what silk felt like? He doubted a small inn would have silk sheets, much less for a sick boy in the attic. And then...he was asleep.
He was back at the stables again, but he was an older man. He was in his mid-fourties, and he was still a stable hand. STILL a bloody stable hand? Then all of a sudden, the scene changed, and Cen was looking at a small grave. It was marked with his name. It stated he'd died in only a few years. Was that supposed to turn him to the first dream? No, that wasn't going to work. The scene shifted again, and Cen was a knight in the court of some random lord or lady. Much better.
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Irmo
Priest
"Bah, people."
Posts: 120
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Post by Irmo on Nov 6, 2012 17:26:03 GMT -6
Irmo sulked into the bar. Why I am I here again? he questioned himself, looking out from beneath his hood. To the people around him he gave off a strange aura, one that said 'I'm boss and leave me alone.' He walked up the bar, hood still on. Two staves were strapped to this back in a sort of holdster. Do it. No. Yes you turkey. No- fine.
"You have a sick person around," Irmo said, the end sounding like both a question and a statement. No, now he's gonna be confused and ask a question! He frowned.
"He's upstairs," the bartender said, eyeing Irmo. "But someone is already-" The man stopped, Irmo was already gone. "Strange man."
Thanks Emillie that's over Irmo thought, making his way up the stairs. He pulled some bread from his bag and munched on it. Stupid people, always going on when a simple answer will do. He rolled his eyes as he pushed past some man who seemed to be dithering.
The door was closed but Irmo slipped in; the smell of sickness hit him in the face. He ignored the guy in red and immediately moved to the guy in the bed. Irmo's hand moved to the boy's forehead.
"Fairly warm," Irmo muttered, taking another chunck out of the bread. He lifted his head and sniffed at the air. Herbs. He shook his head and muttered. Why would you use herbs? This is the easiest of things to heal. It's not like he's missing a limb or bleeding to death.
With a flick of his wrists, the hood was off, revealing Irmo's light hair and icey gaze. "Silent and coperative, that's how I like my patients." He reached back and slid his staff from its place. He took another chunk of the loaf before setting it onto of his patient.
"Ok," Irmo said with a sigh. He leaned his staff against the bed and then stretched his arms out, fingers knitted together. Next he popped his neck, followed with a roll of his shoulders. "Ah." He picked up the staff and looked at the boy.
I suppose the usual wouldn't be good for this situation, Irmo thought, holding the staff parallel to the ground above Cen. He moved his hand above the patient and wiggled his fingers like some dumby magician. A purple light came from the staff and surounded Cen. It stood for a few seconds, and Irmo seemed to mutter something to himself.The light disappeared, and Irmo gasped for air as if he had been holding his breath. He smirked as he hungrily grabbed the loaf and began to wolf the rest of it down. He was completely oblivious to anything that might have transpired as he had gone about his business.
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Vander Rimgate
Thief
The following statement is true: the preceding statment is false.
Posts: 29
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Post by Vander Rimgate on Nov 6, 2012 19:49:49 GMT -6
Vander was starting to believe that the staircase was cursed or something, because as he climbed it someone once again decided that their errand was more important than his and barged past him. Never mind that he was just checking up on people he barely knew, this was getting...
Ridiculous? the thief's good mood almost returned again, but the sight of the barger's retreating back was enough of a reminder to sour him again. This has been ridiculous from the start. We've got a country bumpkin sitting in bed dying from a cold, a priest of some sort who...okay, no descriptors for that, but then we have this joker... He was so worked up that he considered swiping something from the most recent manner less idiot before catching himself; trivial stealing was neither his forté nor his style, and besides, the man had the most obvious items--a pair of staffs (staves? Vander needed to look into that) strapped to his back--were in a crude but apparently sturdy holster, making them difficult targets even in distraction. So, naturally, the brown-haired man did what came naturally: he followed the staff-wielder up the stairs while grumbling under his breath and plotting out snarky comments.
He wouldn't use any of them, of course, but it was the thought that counted.
Arriving back up in the attic room revealed that the Crimson Cleric had been right: not much had changed, except that the mixing implements were no longer in use, the lancer was asleep, the Crimson One was being slightly less loud for the moment, and...the newcomer was waving his staff over Cen while eating bread and looking terribly smug.
The last and the first caught Vander's attention the most (although the bread thing was...odd). Really, the man had barged past him to do that? And he was sitting on his high horse during the process!
He walked up to the man, adopting a form of camaraderie before clapping the priest on the shoulder. "Congratulations, m'boy--" Elimine's bangs, how did people stand talking like that all the time--"you have just completed the most redundant task in the kingdom, and it's people thank you for it." Oh not, not a drip of sarcasm made it past his eyes, which were practically leaking it like tears. "How may we repay you, now that you have done exactly what this fine gentlemen has done--how many times have you done that, by the way, and how long until he's fixed up?" He directed the last two questions to the Crimson Cleric, who had conveniently stayed quiet for the entire performance...
...Maybe. When duty called, Vander found that paying attention was a little more than he cared to do.
And sweet Elimine, he needed to stop hamming it up so much.
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Elias
Mage Knight
The Crimson Mage
I'm just saying that the problem isn't going away, no matter how good we get at stabbing them.
Posts: 451
Etruria Fame: 1
Sacae Fame: 2
Lycia Fame: 1
Profession: The Crimson Mage
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Profile (updated)
OoC Alias: Elias
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Post by Elias on Nov 6, 2012 20:13:10 GMT -6
Elias was, well speechless was far too strong of a word, but a bit confused at least. He was trying to process why this person barged in, used a simple healing staff, and acted like he just saved the village. Then Pot came in and began to fly off the handle a bit, speaking much of what Elias was thinking in the first place. Perhaps this was a kind of comedy unfurling in front of him, still he was being more quiet then he had any right to be. It was disconcerting.
"Three times now, I believe. This man isn't missing an arm or covered in lacerations, he's got pneumonia. Staffs can't heal the sick, unless that is the Saint's staff and I'm blind right now. That's what medicine is for, and that's what I gave him. He should be better in three or four days if he rests. If we keep on him with our staves it could be as short as two if he spends the entire time in bed, unlikely as that is." He screwed his face up, looking at Cen who had finally fallen asleep. This man looked like a healer, a career healer. "All staffs can do for the sick is to keep their body healthy so they can fight the sickness themselves. With simple healing, he would definitely get better in time. Maybe about a week and a half. I used a particularly strong medicine, it'll make him drowsy for a while too so he actually sleeps. My mother was an expert in this sort of thing, and I have a lot of her recipes."
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Irmo
Priest
"Bah, people."
Posts: 120
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Post by Irmo on Nov 6, 2012 22:43:52 GMT -6
Irmo stood there while he munched on his bread. Should I ignore them? he thought, a glazed look in his eyes. Honestly, its not that hard to understand... or maybe it is. He munched some more.
"Hewing," Irmo began, his mouth full. He stopped to swallow. "Healing is basically a transfer of energy, no?" He searched for a seat. "Usually, you just use that energy to speed up a healing process and control it so that it is as it should be." He gave up on the seat and pulled some more bread from his bag.
"I wasn't trying to heal him, I was just sending the energy directly to him so that he could heal faster," Irmo explained, taking a bite out of the bread. "I cawn't actoowally heal 'em," he began, and then swallowed, "For that I'd need a staff that takes the sickness from the body. When it comes to sickness, people always say time. That's because the body only has so much energy. But what if I add energy directly?"
"The herbs only make it easier," Irmo said. "So between your... medicene and my amazing healing ability, he should be fine in the morning." He took another chunk out of the bread. He had finished talking and he didn't feel like answering the weird guy. The only reason he answered the red guy is that he had something worth while to talk about.
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Elias
Mage Knight
The Crimson Mage
I'm just saying that the problem isn't going away, no matter how good we get at stabbing them.
Posts: 451
Etruria Fame: 1
Sacae Fame: 2
Lycia Fame: 1
Profession: The Crimson Mage
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Profile (updated)
OoC Alias: Elias
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Post by Elias on Nov 6, 2012 23:06:51 GMT -6
"You... You don't..." Elias pinched the bridge of his nose with a huff. "That isn't how it works and you know it. Or you should. You're just making stuff up. It's not 'energy' he needs, and healing staffs don't work that way and..." It was infuriating him for some reason and he felt a very strong urge to burn him in a pillar of flame if that wouldn't be murder. This guy was making stuff up, Elias had been studying magic his entire life and he walks and does something and implies that Elias not only doesn't understand but what he was doing was wrong.
Elias took a deep breath, focusing his thoughts. Truth was, Cen got his medicine which would be the thing that heals him. If it was as simple as this guy put it, there would be no need for medicine in the world and even the worst disease would be a case of 'he needs more energy' which isn't how healing staves worked in the first place and... Ugh. He could heal, that's good enough. He'll take care of Cen, but Elias was leaving because he doesn't think he could take that man. Few things got the Crimson Mage riled up and irritated, but this man was abusing quite a few of them at once.
"Well, when Cen wakes up tell him it was nice knowing him Pot. I don't have to deal with this, and I won't." He told the man who probably was just as annoyed as he was, but Elias was leaving first so nah-nah. "Tell Cen that the money I spent for his medicine was added to his tab." He added with a shrug. With a flash of his snow white cloak, and a tug on his crimson hat, Elias was gone. Leaving nothing behind but undoubtedly treasured memories.
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Vander Rimgate
Thief
The following statement is true: the preceding statment is false.
Posts: 29
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Post by Vander Rimgate on Nov 9, 2012 14:29:43 GMT -6
Vander nodded at the Crimson Cleric's answers; for once, he seemed to be getting straight to the point, although the thief was a little confused at the time estimates until he differentiated between "getting better" and "fully recovering." Maybe.
Okay, so it wasn't a terribly straightforward answer at all, but Vander chalked it up to his complete lack of knowledge on healing. Fortunately, things took an interesting turn before he had time to think about it too much--although which part was fortunate about the whole thing, he wasn't sure--as the newcomer said some magibabble that led to the interesting part: the cleric, whatever his name was, appeared...stunned for the first time since Vander had met/wanted to punch him in the face. The thief had just begun to make a mental note of the reaction--it never hurt to gather tips on reaction shots, even if they were completely unintentional--when the man stormed out of the room.
He watched the staircase for a moment before turning to the new arrival. "I hope you know what a shame that is. He was getting fun." It was true enough, in an odd sort of way, but he wasn't at all inclined to chase after the man again. The last time had been bad enough, and the thief had a feeling that they would end up meeting again anyway.
It's almost like there's some force drawing the weirdest people together, he thought, moving over to the only straight wall and slipping down to sit against it. Next thing you know we'll have bandits attacking this town for no reason, only to be beaten back after some ungodly dramatic combat with an unreasonably low death toll on our side and some massive number on theirs, at which point we'll fix up the town and forget about the whole thing.
So first I slip into ham acting, and then I start acting like I'm in some kind of storybook. Let's find a distraction before I start pondering the fate of the world or something else over my head. Now that the red-haired cleric was gone, that left the sleeping Cen and...ah. "So now that you've managed to chase him off and since I'm not going anywhere, I think we might as well get acquainted," he said to the new healer. "What's your name, where are you from, and are you done contemplating your navel yet?"
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Irmo
Priest
"Bah, people."
Posts: 120
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Post by Irmo on Nov 11, 2012 15:58:34 GMT -6
Irmo continued staring into space as he finished his mouth full. Ignore the annoying rodent, Ignore the annoying rodent... He swallowed. And was I examining my navel? I think not!
"My name is Irmo and I'm from Etruria," Irmo told the rodent, not even looking in his general direction. Ahh, pleasantries over. He sighed and put the rest of his bread into his bag. Next, he slipped his staff back into it place before finding a place against a different wall. And he sat there, trying to ignore the tension he felt building in the room. The one caused by the expectations of proper social etiquette and Irmo's resistance toward it.
"So... what is your name?" Irmo asked awkwardly. Yes, now that I said that I don't have to listen anymore. He can just babble and I don't have to listen. He he grinned to himself.
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Vander Rimgate
Thief
The following statement is true: the preceding statment is false.
Posts: 29
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Post by Vander Rimgate on Nov 12, 2012 22:15:46 GMT -6
"My name is Irmo, and I'm from Etruria."
'My name is Idiot, and I'm from Idiotsville. In addition, I'm too dull to react to a non sequitur, and love my bread more than anything in the world. Unfortunately, she's dying, and I'm trying to find a cure for her condi-nomnomnom.' Really, the bread thing was getting ridiculous; it almost came as a relief when he finally put it away, rearranging himself to sit against the wall farthest from Vander himself.
And sat there.
And sat there.
And sat there.
And there was very little Vander could do about it, because he had no idea how to get a rise out of someone so dull...which, now that he thought about it, shouldn't happen. The thief made it an occupation to know the people he met, at least superficially; even the slightest bit of knowledge could be helpful picking a pocket, conning, conniving, robbing, hoodwinking, manipulating, stabbing, fighting, or loitering around in preparation for any of the proceeding. And if Vander didn't know what he was dealing with, it could lead to trouble for someone eventually.
I'm not about to lose my touch in this. So, let's see, he zeroed in on the man, making it no secret that he was observing him, tempted but abstaining from narrowing his eyes or otherwise putting on a creeper face. Not noble, or possibly a noble deviant. Travel-worn, so he's been doing this for a while...although having two staves means--
"So...what is your name?"
GAAAAAAAAH.
Normally, talking wouldn't disturb Vander so much...okay, he usually ignored conversation when he was analyzing someone, but something about this guy just...rubbed him wrong. There wasn't any one thing about him that was more annoying than the Crimson Cleric, or Cen, or Lucius or Brutus (especially not more annoying than Brutus); it almost might have been a combination of things the thief loathed: Cen's fish-out-of-water mannerisms, Lucius and Brutus' high-and-mighty attitudes, and the Crimson Cleric's odd fashions all blended into the perfect 'Poke the Vander' Package.
At least he was talking, which meant some wordplay, if the thief could get more out of his 'opponent.' "Phineas Hudson," he answered, picking up names at random. Let the guy notice that he never went by the same name twice; it would only make things funnier. "-of Bern, if you're interested--" Not likely. "--wandering performer, very-bored sell-sword and whatever else I need to be. So, tell me, how did you come here? This isn't exactly the most attractive place." He wasn't particularly interested in the answer, but he would keep a half-ear out to make it appear that he did; the rest of that ear would pick up something more important or more interesting. Hopefully both.
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Irmo
Priest
"Bah, people."
Posts: 120
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Post by Irmo on Nov 14, 2012 23:33:20 GMT -6
Irmo continued to stare at the floor. Hmmm, well once I leave this place should I go east or head south? I heard there was some going on's down there, maybe they might need me. Oh, but then I'll probably get wrapped up in something and have to go adventuring. East it is. He smiled to himself.
"Wait what?" Irmo said, snapping from the maze of his mind. "Phineas Hudson? Seems kinda boring name for a traveling entertainer," he looked up at the ceiling, "Usually traveling performers name's have something in them that sets him off from people, such as having odd consonants like V. But then they usually make up for it by having some kinda add-on or surname that makes them seem friendly and approachable."
Irmo moved his eyes, full of thought, to Vander. "But a totally average name... yes!" His eyes brightened as if he had some kind of revelation. "Genius, I applaud you Mr. Hudson." He fell back into his mind to puzzle over his thoughts. Hmmmm, perhaps the rodent is not as dumb as I thought. His eyes were getting heavy.
Hmmm, I wonder- wait, I asked that man for his name and he gave me a monologue! Bah, people these days, always going on about themselves. If I cared, I would have asked! Your boring life has no meaning to me, my own boring life is barely worth my time. Irmo frowned and flicked his hood back on. He then leaned his head against his chest after making sure his bag wouldn't run off. Bah, people!
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Vander Rimgate
Thief
The following statement is true: the preceding statment is false.
Posts: 29
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Post by Vander Rimgate on Nov 16, 2012 21:45:59 GMT -6
"Genius!"
Well, maybe the evening wasn't a total loss after all, especially if the dunce could somehow be convinced that Vander was some kind of genius. That said, the priest didn't look like he would be terribly interesting much longer; he had already pulled his hood over his eyes and looked to be ready to nap. This obviously left Vander with very little to do but consider his options.
So...
...Hide his staves in the rafters? Can't do it while he's laying on them. I might have to cut that thing sooner or later, though, so I can take a look at it while he's asleep...
...Rearrange the room? Yeah, right, I'm sure moving the ONE BED and ONE TABLE will confuse the heck out of him. Kudos for that brilliant idea, me.
...Steal his wall--no.
...Leave him alo--NO.
...I can't do anything too terrible to him or I'll chase him off, Cen can't-slash-shouldn't move, these two are the most interesting things in this sticks-basket, and it's too early to just turn in without having something to say for it...maybe find an...ugh, I am NOT doing odd jobs right now. I'm not in the mood for some inane little task that anybody in this village could have done if they knew how to multitask or had a population figure longer than three. Might as well fix the stupid door if I'm going to waste my time on...
Then he had an idea.
An awful idea.
...You get the point.
Anyway, moving stealthily as only he knew how--which, simply, is 'stealthily' in no abnormal way--Vander moved to the door and examined the knob. Yeah, it's loose alright, and there's no lock that I can see. Which means...yes, there is a fastener. Wooden screw, looks like, so I'll have to go slow... Which was fine, since he probably had quite a bit of time. If the idiot woke up, the thief could always say he was just fixing it. Taking out his set of lock picks, he set to work...after quietly wrestling the door open so as not to effectively lock himself inside.
It took several tense minutes and nearly sacrificed both a wonderful wooden screw and Vander's wonderful patience, but when the deed was finally done, he pocketed the soon-to-be offending screw, exited the room, and quietly shut the door behind him.
Grinning hugely, he made his way down the stairs, his mood infinitely improved from outsmarting the priest. Cen wasn't due to wake up for a while--probably--and Vander could always come back up to fix the door when the time came to do it. He alerted the inn-keep to the new situation--happily leaving out the new door configuration and 'happily' leaving out the details on exactly how irritating the newcomer was, since he really couldn't explain it anyway--and went to take what surely would be a well-earned rest in his room.
Actually, he was in the mood for some odd jobs after all...
OOC: I will let whoever posts next do the time skip...probably Cen.
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Cen
Cavalier
Cowards die many deaths, the valiant taste of death but once.
Posts: 196
Profession: Bodyguard
Affinity: Light
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Cen on Nov 22, 2012 21:32:04 GMT -6
Two days later Cen arose from the dea- Cen awoke from his third nap that day. He decided that this was when he would start his true recovery. He'd not acted a man when stuck in that bed. Time to be a man. He slipped on his right boot, and then his left one. Good to see he was getting his wit back. He had put his boots on before his pants. Good to see he was getting his wit back.
He felt spry going down the steps that morning. He even jumped down the last four. He almost hit his head on the roof as he landed. His entire family was incredibly tall, and the roof to the house had always been higher than the one in this inn. He'd also never had stairs in his house, and the silly tool of elevation always felt like a childish game to him. He walked up to sturdy little Miss Hart. He leaned over her and asked, "Anything I could do today Miss Hart?" Cen had a small minute of listening to her prattle on, and then he sat to wait for the pot-man, and hopefully Elias as well. He didn't want to ask for help, simply thank them.
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