- Posting Speed
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Give-No-Fucks
Name: Morgan Aesland
Appearance:
[align=topright]Morgan wears a white, trenchcoat-like robe that falls almost to his knees, underneath which is his chainmail. He carries a knife designed to snap out into a spear, the blade of which is covered in religious symbols.[/align]
Kind: Human
Position: Sitting in one of the armchairs next to the fire, stitching up an injury and keeping an eye on that wolf (he's fairly certain something's unusual about the creature; hint's in the fact that it's a wolf, really).
What are you doing here? "Me? Just passing through, is all. I'm a Junior Cleric at the Church of the Glorious Sun. Abbot reckoned I needed to see the world, do a bit of good. Thought it'd help calm me down a bit, stop my mind racing. Dunno what he means. My mind's fine. Not like I talk a lot, really. Do I talk a lot?
"...what was I talking about?
"That's right. Anyway, I was in the region. Just destroyed a Kobold warren. Little blighters had been attacking the nearby farms and slaughtering the lifestock. Horrid things. The Kobolds, not the lifestock, I mean. Really sharp teeth. One bit me on the arm, see? Got through my mail and managed to take a chunk out of me.
"All I need is a place to stay and a chance to patch my arm up. I'll be off in the morning, nice and sharp. That alright?"
Appearance:
Kind: Human
Position: Sitting in one of the armchairs next to the fire, stitching up an injury and keeping an eye on that wolf (he's fairly certain something's unusual about the creature; hint's in the fact that it's a wolf, really).
What are you doing here? "Me? Just passing through, is all. I'm a Junior Cleric at the Church of the Glorious Sun. Abbot reckoned I needed to see the world, do a bit of good. Thought it'd help calm me down a bit, stop my mind racing. Dunno what he means. My mind's fine. Not like I talk a lot, really. Do I talk a lot?
"...what was I talking about?
"That's right. Anyway, I was in the region. Just destroyed a Kobold warren. Little blighters had been attacking the nearby farms and slaughtering the lifestock. Horrid things. The Kobolds, not the lifestock, I mean. Really sharp teeth. One bit me on the arm, see? Got through my mail and managed to take a chunk out of me.
"All I need is a place to stay and a chance to patch my arm up. I'll be off in the morning, nice and sharp. That alright?"