A sturdy young midlander man with long, matted brown hair was standing in the Octant, mulling over one of the aforementioned flyers. "Awfully vague," the man thought to himself, brushing some dirt from his long, sooty white coat, "but this could be just the sort of thing I've been looking for..." Just as he had that thought, his internal monologue was interrupted by a miqo'te woman shouting nearby. Vulgarities were commonplace in fair Limsa Lominsa, it seemed, though not often at such a volume. He looked over to see the woman locked in an argument with a Roegadyn man. Never one to pass on an opportunity to insert himself into the problems of others, he brusquely and with an air of great purpose strode over to the squabbling pair, and, patting each of them harshly on the back, bellowed out with a great smile, "Well, well! What seems to be the problem here, gents?"
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Nikolai is on the rise.
Nikolai is on the rise.
