As you enter the Shifting Sands for the  most recent of (who knows how many) times, you may have spied a new individual sitting there, his feet propped up on the table. As you approach, you can tell that this Midlander Hyur seems to enjoy his creature comforts; his clothes were expertly tailored, a longsword of solid craftsmanship hangs lazily at his hip, looking as if it is more of a toy then an actual tool of war. As you approach the table, the white haired man turns his piercing grey orbs towards you, looking as if he had walked straight out of a Immortal Flames training camp based on his mouth, and smiles...
Well hello there, friend. Come...take a sit and stay a while, I could use the company.
The youth leans back in his chair, resting an easy hand on the pommel of his sword as he smiles once more.
Don't look so startled..I am known to poll random strangers for conversation. You see...I always am looking for conversation. Information, knowledge, wisdom...all of these things some might say are the same, yet they vary so much, and are truly so different!
As the man speaks, he pours himself a glass of some type of red wine of unknown origin, of which he offers some for you.
Information: The key that unlocks several doors and several tongues, oft times leading to great wealth, great success...or great misfortune.
Knowledge: The sword that we use to defend our secrets with, be they days old or generations in the making. This is our fruits and labors, our very essence boiled down into the collective thoughts of those that we call friends and family; or perhaps the tool that our enemy might possess without our knowing.
Wisdom: The shield in which we charge forward into daunting tasks with, knowing that, somewhere down before...there are those that have come before us...so they might soon lead for those that come after...
As the man flows through his monologue, an odd smile crosses his features, as if a distant look has taken hold of him.
Ah, but you did not come here to listen to the waxing of life secrets by a youthful sellsword. You came here to drink, to enjoy, to step back from the dangers that our world is so full of, and perhaps find a few moments of peace.
As the swordsman rises, he smiles and pats you on the shoulder, dropping a small linkshell on the table infront of you.
Ducard Alvare, Swordsmen of the Western Gate and High Warden. Should you decide you need a sword, a quill, or a poetic heart...seek me out, I am always searching for new contacts...and you have made a new ally today.
As the odd man walks out, you see him toss a small bit of coin towards the barkeep, gesturing towards the table that you are sitting at. Looks like the first few rounds are paid for by this High Warden.
You doubt this will be the last time you see the man.
Well hello there, friend. Come...take a sit and stay a while, I could use the company.
The youth leans back in his chair, resting an easy hand on the pommel of his sword as he smiles once more.
Don't look so startled..I am known to poll random strangers for conversation. You see...I always am looking for conversation. Information, knowledge, wisdom...all of these things some might say are the same, yet they vary so much, and are truly so different!
As the man speaks, he pours himself a glass of some type of red wine of unknown origin, of which he offers some for you.
Information: The key that unlocks several doors and several tongues, oft times leading to great wealth, great success...or great misfortune.
Knowledge: The sword that we use to defend our secrets with, be they days old or generations in the making. This is our fruits and labors, our very essence boiled down into the collective thoughts of those that we call friends and family; or perhaps the tool that our enemy might possess without our knowing.
Wisdom: The shield in which we charge forward into daunting tasks with, knowing that, somewhere down before...there are those that have come before us...so they might soon lead for those that come after...
As the man flows through his monologue, an odd smile crosses his features, as if a distant look has taken hold of him.
Ah, but you did not come here to listen to the waxing of life secrets by a youthful sellsword. You came here to drink, to enjoy, to step back from the dangers that our world is so full of, and perhaps find a few moments of peace.
As the swordsman rises, he smiles and pats you on the shoulder, dropping a small linkshell on the table infront of you.
Ducard Alvare, Swordsmen of the Western Gate and High Warden. Should you decide you need a sword, a quill, or a poetic heart...seek me out, I am always searching for new contacts...and you have made a new ally today.
As the odd man walks out, you see him toss a small bit of coin towards the barkeep, gesturing towards the table that you are sitting at. Looks like the first few rounds are paid for by this High Warden.
You doubt this will be the last time you see the man.
