The man RPs his way into the frame.
"Looking for dark steel tridents. Let me know what you want," he whispers, quite racistly.
The man RPs his way out of the frame.
Looking for Darkened Steel Tridents
Re: Looking for Darkened Steel Tridents
As it happens, I have one for trade. I need daggers and combo trinks. Nice ones. PM me if you're interested.
Re: Looking for Darkened Steel Tridents
"I will not stand by while people racistly say things in the public square! Children--detain this man!"
A diverse group of Children of Light, XXs and XYs, loudly stomped into the bazaar where the poor-looking man with attractive swords tried to weasel his way into the will wishes of the common folk and gentrified nobility.
With hands grasping his ragged clothes, the man was taken away aggressively. No doubt there would be repercussions from the Tairen authorities, but it would be awhile before they woke up.
VAEN HAS BEEN IMPRISONED AND CAN'T MAKE TRADES FOR 24H
A diverse group of Children of Light, XXs and XYs, loudly stomped into the bazaar where the poor-looking man with attractive swords tried to weasel his way into the will wishes of the common folk and gentrified nobility.
With hands grasping his ragged clothes, the man was taken away aggressively. No doubt there would be repercussions from the Tairen authorities, but it would be awhile before they woke up.
VAEN HAS BEEN IMPRISONED AND CAN'T MAKE TRADES FOR 24H
Re: Looking for Darkened Steel Tridents
Squeezing his eyes shut, Vaen rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers. He had gone with them, of course, not that any had the gall to lay hands on him. Or confiscate any of his weapons.
"Children," he muttered, as he drew his sword. "Bloody children. Forgive them, for they know not what they do." With three quick slashes, he cut a door into the canvas tent in which he was "imprisoned". He sheathed his blade and stalked away in the night. He had already gotten what he came for and did not need to surrounded by the distasteful crush of odorous humanity a moment longer.
"Children," he muttered, as he drew his sword. "Bloody children. Forgive them, for they know not what they do." With three quick slashes, he cut a door into the canvas tent in which he was "imprisoned". He sheathed his blade and stalked away in the night. He had already gotten what he came for and did not need to surrounded by the distasteful crush of odorous humanity a moment longer.