Winter 9/Asvir Visit 8.2
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
[X] Go see what the Skald is up to
[X] Go shopping!
-[X] Look for anything exotic and magical, especially plants or seeds, check if there are any livestock for sale at a reasonable price (perhaps unlikely after the famine, but worth checking).
[X] Go shopping!
-[X] Look for anything exotic and magical, especially plants or seeds, check if there are any livestock for sale at a reasonable price (perhaps unlikely after the famine, but worth checking).
What's available? (Hamingja: 27) 27 Successes, damn
As you walk into the market place, there's an oddly familiar, yet previously absent energy in the air. It takes you a moment to place it, but the source is as obvious as she is attractive.
The world seems to watch with bated breath as a woman with a sword on her hip looks over the various exotic goods on display. Her pants are green and baggy, yet tighten up at her sandal-heralding ankles. The color of her silk shirt is purple and the sleeves are just as baggy as her pants—though they tighten up at her elbows rather then her bare wrists. Dazzling gems serve as the eyes of a snake's head serving as the pommel of the sword hanging from the left-side of her waist-cinching belt. A scarf of deep red cloth curls about her neck and shoulders as a trailing length falls down her back.
As you move closer to get a look at the goods, a pair of striking yellow eyes turn towards you—the spark of something eerily familiar shining deep within.
'Ambition's Spark,' Blackhand names it as she watches you approach. 'Be wary around people with ambition in their eyes, for they are fated to either rise in shining glory or fall in agonizing flames.'
"I'm Halla Skyfire," you greet the stranger warmly, dispelling a measure of tension with an outstretched hand.
She stares at you as her eyes rove over your form. She lingers on your arms, thick with hardened muscle, and on your palms, dense with warrior's callouses. Something approaching admiration flickers in her eyes as she meets your battle-scarred hand with a smooth, slender hand forged with a core of solid iron.
"They call me Lidrun of the Red Scarf," Lidrun's voice is sweet yet sour, soft yet sharp, shallow yet soulful. No matter the words she speaks or how she says them, the mark of her kind is unmistakable even without the confirmation of her next words, "and I am a skald in search of story and glory."
Would you like to ask her anything?
[ ] Yes, you would!
-[ ] Write in
[ ] No, you'll proceed to the shopping. After all, there's a number of interesting things on display.
0~0~0
AN: ;P
No moratorium.
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