Jester's Court

[Jester]

"No, I may as well follow. I don't really have much else to do," he said. "The king let me go for a while to do as I pleased on my own. And following people and observing them is a fun little boredom-killer." He thought about ways to get the king to allow him first in line. Since the fool was the king's "favorite" in terms of entertainment and company, he was sure just a quick mentioning of a friend would grant him first pass in a second.

He did a ridiculous little twirl, and bent himself backwards, staring up at him while semi-upside down. All of his prongs touched the floor, and his belly looked like it'd snap in the middle. "You wouldn't happen to have any sweet rolls on you, would you?" Sweets. Another motivator for facing undead, or anything really, that was unpleasant.

 

[Cerulean]

A deep breath whistles, past the helmet openings. The locks clicked and clanked, as the door slowly open. His senses almost burst as it seemed to hate what could be detected. Cerulean still didn't around. He tapped his helmet twice. Hands clasped, soft words are uttered. These words were unable to be understood.

"Dof friop gah. Seuip buwr cue vuyt. Culd swui xioern."

His head raises, as he steps into the doorway. Turning around, he unsheaths his sword.

"Last chance. I have to close the door behind me. Leave your manhoods in your leggings, and your fears at the door."