SwanHawtrey
New Member
Come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them.
Posts: 3
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Post by SwanHawtrey on Jul 18, 2009 5:43:07 GMT -8
It was a heavy night. The noises were audible was audible along the land, as for the thunderstorm outside, as for the crashing cups in the tavern. Ron and mead was flying free, as high as the drunkards wich, this time, were doing everything with their drinks, except drinking it.
Behold, the old darken door opens and, with the blast that shut in a sudden all the candles, enters a man with torn sleeves, face covered by the hood, dark suits and two peculiar backpacks fallen on his left waist.
Irritated, all turn to the tall man, which apparently had bad omens, without the idea that he would be the worst of omens.
He walks a step further, let the door close and get closer to a semi-dry bank of aging wood, while the tavern man advance in the lamps to light'em up again. But despite the dark, something that belongs to him had a certain glow, and was not only his half-cynical smile.
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SwanHawtrey
New Member
Come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them.
Posts: 3
|
Post by SwanHawtrey on Jul 19, 2009 19:39:34 GMT -8
The waitress was a fat tall woman, with something in her face that seems like a beard, but it's not worthless seeing. Every table she passed, she got slapped in both legs. When she came to the stranger, her legs were red, sweating by every pour, with beer making wet her whole dress.
Trying to take note from his wishes, a fat barbarian as ugly as an orc came to the table, 'accidentally' kicked his chair, grabbed her with one hand and, when he put the other hand in the table, a subit stab ran through his hard hand, keeping him fixed to the dark wood. The waitress screamed, the barbarian growl and the other men laugh.
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