Recovery at the Inn ((An open RP thread))

[davenutninja408]

A sneaky and lithe half orc, once satisfied with what he sees takes his leave of the last flagon inn, to deliver his report in person; from the Hullack, to Thunderstone he hops the soonest departing ferry to the capital before making his way back to an old fishing warehouse in Marsember. The report reaches the squires ears later that eve, a rare hug is given in return before the squire packs his equipment, and takes his leave.

[davenutninja408]

He had to catch a late ferry from the capital before he finally arrived in Thunderstone, he made his usual rounds, salutes and hails where required. He stopped by the RCMH hq and did his usual tasks seeing to the stables and making sure things around the outpost looked in order before he ventured into the Hullack. His journeys here had been few and dangerous, most of those hunts were alone, as patrols with his superiors and fellow squires had been few to non existent in the recent months. But as usual, he found his way to the Last Flagon and watched the recovering monk with a quiet smile. "Quarter staff? Never seen you use one of those before. New talent?" He chortled before approaching and holding his hands out offering... a cupcake. It was clear the squire had missed Aella, his eyes shining as if withholding tears. "I'm glad you made it back."

[Sioladuil]

A frail looking elven figure is often a seen in and around the Last Flagon.

He comes and goes. Sometimes he is there for a few minutes, other times he is there for a few days.

His visit, when staying, always starts the same. He appears out of thin air. Usually smoking a jet black Cigar. The embers of which barely penetrate the magical darkness within his hood. He purchases the same meal, beef and cheese, and then takes up residence at a Table to the right of the door towards the shop. He then quietly smokes, eats and drinks. A jet black cat is also seen in the area when he is around. Sometimes he is mousing, sometimes he is just strutting about.

Occasionally the Elf would one and observe the training and activities of the individual practising. He would say little, unless addressed, just quietly observing and smoking. He always has an old and peeling black leather book strapped to his belt and his sword gives off a faint dull glow through it:s hilt.