By the time he'd woken up, it was mid-day and the desert heat was burning. The Unnamed Mercenary got off the cot he'd been sleeping on, used a washing basin to rinse his face, and put his mask on, making sure to adjust it perfectly. Leaving the inn room he had stayed in, any number of people could have heard him mutter "why in the hells is this place so hot?" as he entered Ul'Dah.Â
Sure to make no eye contact with any of the locals, he made his way to the Quicksand for a drink. "The ale's probably the only redeeming thing about this place." His money was getting low, and there was nothing to do. He hadn't seen a certain Brass Blade making his rounds lately, so there wasn't even a person to cause trouble for.
He needed work. Something, anything. The mere thought of having to beg to survive was not an option.
Sure to make no eye contact with any of the locals, he made his way to the Quicksand for a drink. "The ale's probably the only redeeming thing about this place." His money was getting low, and there was nothing to do. He hadn't seen a certain Brass Blade making his rounds lately, so there wasn't even a person to cause trouble for.
He needed work. Something, anything. The mere thought of having to beg to survive was not an option.
