A woman clad in a short cut diaphanous gown of electric blues and silver colors glances over the pamphlet for a moment. Bearing a wounded right arm she tugs loose the notice with a brief grunt of pain escaping from her lips.
"My my aren't we the sweet naïve young thing".
With a wry amused smile with a small gesture and a few arcane words blows lightly on the scrap of paper then tucks it away.
Post by Raven Credale on Jun 3, 2019 6:36:58 GMT -5
A young woman with red hair tied back into a pony tail in cobalt blue armor with black detailing.A quiver was on her left hip along with a long and short sword stapled to the small of her back while her bow was in hand, plucked the pamphlet from the wall of an inn and looked it over before frowning some.
A man garbed with chain, cloaked and hooded in shades of blue calmly inspects one of the pamphlets as he makes to start his day, his own signs showing his own trade and business in hand, prepared to be settled down wherever he chose to pitch his stall for the day. His fingers twitch and squeeze at them a little, and then he sighs, as if relaxing or constraining himself from anger.
"Another proclomation." Lucas shook his head, a messy strand of hair escaping from his hood before being quickly swept back inside by Lucas' free hand. "Never ceases to amaze me that adventurers can test their own welcome by being so patronising."
Lucas Johnson (Mage & Crafter) Benjamin Maccavelli (Scout and flanker) Lars (Arcane Archer of Solonor Thelandira) Bola (Priest of Erevan Illesere)
Picking up the pamphlet, she skims the words quietly. As she turns the paper to the backside to see if anything is written there, the back of her right hand quietly blazes with the ember-red arcane brand in the shape of a red T. Her eyes fall on the magical brand on the back of her own hand, as she grips the paper.
She turns the pamphlet back to the front and her eyes go to the bottom of the paper. Therein, she quietly tucks the bit of punished paper, replete with boot mark from where she picked it up on the road, into a small carrying box of other notes.
Delvar, a red-head dwarf in full armor, bearing a massive warhammer and an Oghrann warhorn hanging in his belt comments with Bentin as they see those flyers floating in the wind in front of The Regal Griffon:
-Bent, ain't those papers considered littering? Nay a fine fur dis? Ya know wut, Kale can solve his paper problems wit this shait, if he gather enough.
Bentin snorts and retakes his watch while the dwarf enters the inn and shouts:
-Heya Kale yer old basterd how ya been? Ya still out of arse paper? Nay anymore!
A pamphlet blows across the road as a elf in silver and blue picks it up and looks at it. "Surprised ya' still around at all little guy." He would fold it up and put into his set of paperwork. "Nay say I agree with all ya put n'ta' this but then tha' depends on a few things. Good luck ta' ya regardless howeva' lad."