Post by Star Fall on Aug 7, 2017 3:32:19 GMT
Mura!masaGIZ/yg 2 Nov 2015 1:50:20 PM No.41134499>>41134503
"Damn... Got mud on me boots again..."
>A tall, thin man walked through the narrow streets of Kingsmeet through one of the poorer areas that lacked stone roads, instead just filling them with dirt. The street itself was speckled with puddles of mud, one of which the man in question just stepped in, drenching one of his boots in thick mud. Shaking his leg to get some of the stuff off, he continued down his path.
>He was a rather eccentrically-dressed gentleman, wearing a long, leather coat, heavily frayed and torn at its edges and covered in a light layer of dirt and splashes of mud. On it was a large hood that somewhat concealed his face, and under than he wore a strange piece of attire: A mask, painted to look like the grinning teeth of a skull. Anyone who knew something about them, or at least heard of them, would immediately know the man was a Wight by his gauntness and piercing emerald eyes that seemed to faintly glow under the right light.
>Indeed, as he walked towards the Marketplace, there were a few who noticed his eyes and pallor, most of them quickly leaving his presence or reaching for a weapon in fear and suspicion as he passed them. He didn't seem to pay them any mind, however, instead simply looking forward with a disinterested, almost fatigued look in his eyes.
>The truth was, he was tired. Tired of these people always being afraid of him. He was almost certain that the merchants that didn't outright refuse to give him business would hike their prices up, but he didn't care. He wasn't here to buy, after all... He was here to do some surveying for the Thieves Guild. Inspect any potential targets, watch for times when the merchant regularly leaves, and report back at the end of the day. It was boring, tiring work, but hey, at least he was actually out doing something and not just lazing around like some other members of his guild.
>With a light sigh, he finally enters the marketplace. It was simply one of many, this one belonging to peddlers and snake oil merchants of all sorts, lined up along the street in their booths and stalls, shouting out to potential customers that passed by. Of course, none seemed to yell to the Wight, but it made him kind of glad. He hated being yelled at. After walking through the marketplace once, he decided to simply watch from a distance. Finding an unoccupied wall a few yards away from the commotion, he crossed his arms and leaned against it, silently watching, waiting, and inspecting the targets of his guild.
"Damn... Got mud on me boots again..."
>A tall, thin man walked through the narrow streets of Kingsmeet through one of the poorer areas that lacked stone roads, instead just filling them with dirt. The street itself was speckled with puddles of mud, one of which the man in question just stepped in, drenching one of his boots in thick mud. Shaking his leg to get some of the stuff off, he continued down his path.
>He was a rather eccentrically-dressed gentleman, wearing a long, leather coat, heavily frayed and torn at its edges and covered in a light layer of dirt and splashes of mud. On it was a large hood that somewhat concealed his face, and under than he wore a strange piece of attire: A mask, painted to look like the grinning teeth of a skull. Anyone who knew something about them, or at least heard of them, would immediately know the man was a Wight by his gauntness and piercing emerald eyes that seemed to faintly glow under the right light.
>Indeed, as he walked towards the Marketplace, there were a few who noticed his eyes and pallor, most of them quickly leaving his presence or reaching for a weapon in fear and suspicion as he passed them. He didn't seem to pay them any mind, however, instead simply looking forward with a disinterested, almost fatigued look in his eyes.
>The truth was, he was tired. Tired of these people always being afraid of him. He was almost certain that the merchants that didn't outright refuse to give him business would hike their prices up, but he didn't care. He wasn't here to buy, after all... He was here to do some surveying for the Thieves Guild. Inspect any potential targets, watch for times when the merchant regularly leaves, and report back at the end of the day. It was boring, tiring work, but hey, at least he was actually out doing something and not just lazing around like some other members of his guild.
>With a light sigh, he finally enters the marketplace. It was simply one of many, this one belonging to peddlers and snake oil merchants of all sorts, lined up along the street in their booths and stalls, shouting out to potential customers that passed by. Of course, none seemed to yell to the Wight, but it made him kind of glad. He hated being yelled at. After walking through the marketplace once, he decided to simply watch from a distance. Finding an unoccupied wall a few yards away from the commotion, he crossed his arms and leaned against it, silently watching, waiting, and inspecting the targets of his guild.