Laucian’s Tale
“You’re quite the amoral man, aren’t ye.” Said the gruff dwarf afore him, Stroking his long braided ginger-coloured beard with his calloused hands.
The Dwarves green eyes glistening in the forge light. His worn clothes had rips and stains about them, upon his belt lay many tools, including a hammer, tongs, a knife, and other items a blacksmith may need.
“Amoral is not the right word, I would say I am quite adamant on getting revenge.” Whispered the hooded man, deep in thought on whether he should have his soon to be rapier silvered.
“Ay, many a times I find men parading to my stand with animosity in their eyes,” The dwarf paused. “It seems you are the epitome of such men.”
The rogue
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He pulled his hood over his head before crossing the abandoned road, the sun rest upon the horizon, slowly winking from existence. Rocks ground under his foot as he roughly threw his feet down, attempting to masquerade his steps as those of a human.
In front of him lay the decaying wood structure that was an inn. Above the brown wood doorway lay a creaking sign attached to a post by two chains. On the sign the words “Amiable Antagonist” lay poorly inked in a red colour, in a way where the first letter of every word was capitalized.
As he reached for the handle of the door, a previously unnoticed slot at about eye level of the door slid open. Vicious eyes peered through.
“This Inn is invite only, and we haven’t recently gave out any invites, so you 're not welcome.” Shouted the deep voiced man upon the other side of the door as he shut the slot.
“Wait, Drophi gave me an invite.” Said the hooded man as he tried to hide his erudite voice. The slot opened
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His face coated with makeup. The rogue looked around the room, everything lit by a red aura emanating from an orb that lay at rest at on a big table near the room’s center. The walls and floors were made of a soft carpeting, as if the place was made to be romantic. The halfling crossed his legs and interlocked his hands on his lap.
“So, why did Drophi send you.” Said the halfling in an annoying voice as he winked at the rogue. As the hooded man sat down the halfling reached out to him, but the he moved his hands away while the halfling looked at him sadly and whimpered.
“I need your hand to tell.” whispered the halfling, the way he said tell seemed as if it was something honourable and great. Though nervous the rogue reached out his hand which was soon taken by the miniscule hands of the halfling in front of him.
After whence the halfling looked up and shut his eyelids and chanted something in a language unknown to the