08-23-2017, 08:46 AM
Watching from the edge of the forest seated comfortably, Turrent perks up enough to follow Mintha's path back into town centre before hobbling over and speaking up with his hands hooked into his belt and his breath slightly visible as if chilled inside.
"Oi frosty-lass, lookin' roight gabba'd ya are. Suppose ol' Turrent can't pick ya mind fer a few an' see if he can't help? Ain't good at tha readin' business no more so figure it be best gettin' the real words from ya 'stead of some sod second hand."
"Oi frosty-lass, lookin' roight gabba'd ya are. Suppose ol' Turrent can't pick ya mind fer a few an' see if he can't help? Ain't good at tha readin' business no more so figure it be best gettin' the real words from ya 'stead of some sod second hand."
A Soot-coated and oddly thin human wearing a strange tattered cloak, torn pants, and a variety of pouches and containers. His pony-tail appears to be singed and he smells of blast powder and a hint of honey.
(OOG - Christian Kimmerer - Medical Marshal)
(OOG - Christian Kimmerer - Medical Marshal)