Osvald stood back at his full height - hardened eyes offering a curious look downward toward the Lalafel the Dragoon had introduced. They offered more than a hint of disbelief, of doubt, if not a suspicion of mischief. He glanced to his master, whose self-possessed and friendly countenance seemed a stark contrast to his own.
Hesitation was writ across Osvald's usually emotionless features, and reticence through his body language. A moment passed before he took a step forward, taking a polite knee upon the tiled forge-floor of the Smithy to offer his large hand - one easily capable of grasping the fullness of one Gegenji skull within its breadth. There was no smile upon the man's stoic visage, but he did not seem one who would offer many.
"Osvald Tharintreu. At your service." His voice was more quiet than the breadth of his body would suggest, just audible above the steady pitch of the auto-bellows and simmering furnace. It was obvious that he did not have much use for the common speech, but the accent upon his tongue was that Ishgardian lilt with enough Highland burr to be recognizable. Chachanji had heard its like before: upon that of the man's sister, spinning her cheerful notes throughout the Quick Sand on a near nightly basis.
Hesitation was writ across Osvald's usually emotionless features, and reticence through his body language. A moment passed before he took a step forward, taking a polite knee upon the tiled forge-floor of the Smithy to offer his large hand - one easily capable of grasping the fullness of one Gegenji skull within its breadth. There was no smile upon the man's stoic visage, but he did not seem one who would offer many.
"Osvald Tharintreu. At your service." His voice was more quiet than the breadth of his body would suggest, just audible above the steady pitch of the auto-bellows and simmering furnace. It was obvious that he did not have much use for the common speech, but the accent upon his tongue was that Ishgardian lilt with enough Highland burr to be recognizable. Chachanji had heard its like before: upon that of the man's sister, spinning her cheerful notes throughout the Quick Sand on a near nightly basis.
![[Image: 21282370099_a814a08664_o.png]](https://farm1.staticflickr.com/590/21282370099_a814a08664_o.png)
