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Re: A Pirate's (Un)Life for me! (Rovana)
DM
Vallaki
Tag: Rovana
"It's not so much that we mind them... 'course we don't like the stealing bit from honest folk," the female guard said. Then her male counterpart followed up.
"We just mind having to clean up after the Baron and the guard captain demand their execution. Blood's hard to clean off the cobbles, and the Baron keeps on having the executions in the same square where he wants his lovely clean festivals..."
Rovana couldn't help but feel that these guards were a bit glum about the people they served.
"Oh well, all in the name of protecting the community... it's better than facing the Devil's wolves outside the walls," the female guard sighed before letting Rovana and Damia carry on, making of her musings what they willed.
---
"Well we could always *acquire* some coin," Damia grinned and wiggled her fingers. "It's only a crime if you get caught, right? Maybe this rich lady we're about to meet could spare some silvers."
She bumped her hips up against Rovana's rear and then gave a surprise kiss to Joe's eyepatch, which produced a surprised squawk.
"Luck's got nothing to it. Between you and me, we could charm and hoodwink this whole lot~" Damia said confidently, seemingly out of the earshot of any visible guard.
No one stopped the pair as they walked up Lake Street and headed towards the large, looming mansion which seemed as though it were disgusted with itself. It had a slouching roof that hung heavy over furrowed gables, and moss-covered walls sagged and bulged under the weight of the vegetation. As Rovana gazed over its sullen countenance, she heard the edifice actually groan. If the walls could talk, it would be saying how it hated what it had become.
Rovana walked up to the front of the house and knocked on the door, which had a bolt lock and was heavy wood reinforced with bronze bands.
After a few sharp raps her keen ears detected the creak of approaching footsteps. The door itself is not opened, but a small, four inch sliding window cut int the door at eye-height is. A man's dark eyes peer out at you.
"Yes?" He inquired, dutifully, in the droning, sleightly suspicious monotone of a servant who was used to all of his master's guests being announced well in advance, and now was faced with an unexpected guest who had deliberately or ignorantly breached protocol.
DM
Vallaki
Tag: Rovana
"It's not so much that we mind them... 'course we don't like the stealing bit from honest folk," the female guard said. Then her male counterpart followed up.
"We just mind having to clean up after the Baron and the guard captain demand their execution. Blood's hard to clean off the cobbles, and the Baron keeps on having the executions in the same square where he wants his lovely clean festivals..."
Rovana couldn't help but feel that these guards were a bit glum about the people they served.
"Oh well, all in the name of protecting the community... it's better than facing the Devil's wolves outside the walls," the female guard sighed before letting Rovana and Damia carry on, making of her musings what they willed.
---
"Well we could always *acquire* some coin," Damia grinned and wiggled her fingers. "It's only a crime if you get caught, right? Maybe this rich lady we're about to meet could spare some silvers."
She bumped her hips up against Rovana's rear and then gave a surprise kiss to Joe's eyepatch, which produced a surprised squawk.
"Luck's got nothing to it. Between you and me, we could charm and hoodwink this whole lot~" Damia said confidently, seemingly out of the earshot of any visible guard.
No one stopped the pair as they walked up Lake Street and headed towards the large, looming mansion which seemed as though it were disgusted with itself. It had a slouching roof that hung heavy over furrowed gables, and moss-covered walls sagged and bulged under the weight of the vegetation. As Rovana gazed over its sullen countenance, she heard the edifice actually groan. If the walls could talk, it would be saying how it hated what it had become.
Rovana walked up to the front of the house and knocked on the door, which had a bolt lock and was heavy wood reinforced with bronze bands.
After a few sharp raps her keen ears detected the creak of approaching footsteps. The door itself is not opened, but a small, four inch sliding window cut int the door at eye-height is. A man's dark eyes peer out at you.
"Yes?" He inquired, dutifully, in the droning, sleightly suspicious monotone of a servant who was used to all of his master's guests being announced well in advance, and now was faced with an unexpected guest who had deliberately or ignorantly breached protocol.