Gharen grins in return as he walks over to his makeshift table. His sword and shield lay there, though today a lance accompanies them, he picks it up and quickly inspects it, ensuring that it is straight and balanced, he begins to wrap the dual silvered bladed heads with a leather strap.
"Le's jus' call this sparr.." Gharen was cut off by a sudden scream emanating from within the refugee camps, his head snaps in the direction that it came from.
>Continued Here<
"Le's jus' call this sparr.." Gharen was cut off by a sudden scream emanating from within the refugee camps, his head snaps in the direction that it came from.
>Continued Here<
