Thramzorean March 1 Vaeril A rakish sort of seagoing buccaneer type walked up the cobbled street to the entrance of the Purple Dragon Inn, boots clicking softly on the stones. A finger twirled a long lock of red-brown hair as the personage read the sign outside the inn, then made his way directly through the main entrance into the common area, though there was an acknowledging bob of the head as he passed the older woman sitting outside. A casual glance around the crowd. Seemingly indifferent to the throng he wove his way to the bar. To the observant it could be noted that at a table of old salts the conversation moderated slightly, the tone of the voices dropping a decibel or two. Here and there a few nods were exchanged, no jovial calls of comradeship renewed, but subdued professional greetings. The man propped himself up by the bar, in no hurry to order, rather taking his time to observe the patrons, gauging the mood and feel of the room. At one table there was a young sailor glancing about at the others with him, "Isn't that Vae? The butcher of the Carditz? Don't tell me he's taking the voyage?!" came a muted whisper, the head looked down at the tabletop not wanting to be seen to be speaking. "He'll be interviewing same as the rest," was the calm response. "And don't you worry son, if he comes just do as he says, mind your manners and you'll be fine. He'll have your back, same as us." Apparently satisfied with what he was seeing the man waved off the approaching barmaid and headed up the rickety stairs. Noting a dog confidently talking to the first mate in the small anteroom, he paused to patiently wait his turn.
Thramzorean February 29 Vaeril A rakish sort of seagoing buccaneer type walked up the cobbled street to the entrance of the Purple Dragon Inn, boots clicking softly on the stones. A finger twirled a long lock of red-brown hair as the personage read the sign outside the inn, then made his way directly through the main entrance into the common area, though there was an acknowledging bob of the head as he passed the older woman sitting outside. A casual glance around the crowd. Seemingly indifferent to the throng he wove his way to the bar. To the observant it could be noted that at a table of old salts the conversation moderated slightly, the tone of the voices dropping a decibel or two. Here and there a few nods were exchanged, no jovial calls of comradeship renewed, but subdued professional greetings. The man propped himself up by the bar, in no hurry to order, rather taking his time to observe the patrons, gauging the mood and feel of the room. At one table there was a young sailor glancing about at the others with him, "Isn't that Vae? The butcher of the Carditz? Don't tell me he's taking the voyage?!" came a muted whisper, the head looked down at the tabletop not wanting to be seen to be speaking. "He'll be interviewing same as the rest," was the calm response. "And don't you worry son, if he comes just do as he says, mind your manners and you'll be fine. He'll have your back, same as us." Apparently satisfied with what he was seeing the man waved off the approaching barmaid and headed up the rickety stairs. Noting others in line in the small anteroom, he paused to patiently wait his turn.
Thramzorean February 29 Vaeril A rakish sort of seagoing buccaneer type walked up the cobbled street to the entrance of the Purple Dragon Inn, boots clicking softly on the stones. A finger twirled a long lock of red-brown hair as the personage read the sign outside the inn, then made his way directly through the main entrance into the common area, though there was an acknowledging bob of the head as he passed the older woman sitting outside. A casual glance around the crowd. Seemingly indifferent to the throng he wove his way to the bar. To the observant it could be noted that at a table of old salts the conversation moderated slightly, the tone of the voices dropping a decibel or two. Here and there a few nods were exchanged, no jovial calls of comradeship renewed, but subdued professional greetings. The man propped himself up by the bar, in no hurry to order, rather taking his time to observe the patrons, gauging the mood and feel of the room. At one table there was a young sailor glancing about at the others with him, "Isn't that Vae? The butcher of the Carditz? Don't tell me he's taking the voyage?!" came a muted whisper, the head looked down at the tabletop not wanting to be seen to be speaking. "He'll be interviewing same as the rest," was the calm response. "And don't you worry son, if he comes just do as he says, mind your manners and you'll be fine. He'll have your back, same as us." Apparently satisfied with what he was seeing the man waved off the approaching barmaid and headed up the rickety stairs. Seeing others in line in the small anteroom, he paused to patiently wait his turn.
Thramzorean February 29 Vaeril A rakish sort of seagoing buccaneer type walked up the cobbled street to the entrance of the Purple Dragon Inn, boots clicking softly on the stones. A finger twirled a long lock of red-brown hair as the personage read the sign outside the inn, then made his way directly through the main entrance into the common area, though there was an acknowledging bob of the head as he passed the older woman sitting outside. A casual glance around the crowd. Seemingly indifferent to the throng he wove his way to the bar. To the observant it could be noted that at table or two of old salts the conversation moderated slightly, the tone of the voices dropping a decibel or two. Here and there a few nods were exchanged, no jovial calls of comradeship renewed, but subdued professional greetings. The man propped himself up by the bar, in no hurry to order, rather taking his time to observe the patrons, gauging the mood and feel of the room. At one table there was a young sailor glancing about at the others with him, "Isn't that Vae? The butcher of the Carditz? Don't tell me he's taking the voyage?!" came a muted whisper, the head looked down at the tabletop not wanting to be seen to be speaking. "He'll be interviewing same as the rest," was the calm response. "And don't you worry son, if he comes just do as he says, mind your manners and you'll be fine. He'll have your back, same as us." Apparently satisfied with what he was seeing the man waved off the approaching barmaid and headed up the rickety stairs. Seeing others in line in the small anteroom, he paused to patiently wait his turn.
Thramzorean February 29 Vaeril A rakish sort of seagoing buccaneer type walked up the cobbled street to the entrance of the Purple Dragon Inn, boots clicking softly on the stones. A finger twirled a long lock of red-brown hair as the personage read the sign outside the inn, then made his way directly through the main entrance into the common area, though there was an acknowledging bob of the head as he passed the older woman sitting outside. A casual glance around the crowd. Seemingly indifferent to the throng he wove his way to the bar. To the observant it could be noted that at table or two of old salts the conversation moderated slightly, the tone of the voices dropping a decibel or two. Here and there a few nods were exchanged, no jovial calls of comradeship renewed, but subdued professional greetings. The man propped himself up by the bar, in no hurry to order, rather taking his time to observe the patrons, gauging the mood and feel of the room. At one table there was a young sailor glancing about at the others with him, "Isn't that Vae? The butcher of the Carditz? Don't tell me he's taking the voyage?!" came a muted whisper, the head looked down at the tabletop not wanting to be seen to be speaking. "He'll be interviewing same as the rest," was the calm response. "And don't you worry son, if he comes just do as he says, mind your manners and you'll be fine. He'll have your back, same as us." Seemingly satisfied with what he was seeing the man waved off the approaching barmaid and headed up the rickety stairs. Seeing others in line in the small anteroom, he paused to patiently wait his turn.
