Post by Alenea Hanali on Jul 16, 2020 17:32:41 GMT
15 Flamerule, 1497
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The group looks at each other as the door to Coll's bedroom closes behind them. Alenea shakes her head and looks down at the sock clutched in her hand, wondering when Coll had had the chance to take it. Beside her the butler carefully folds a handkerchief embroidered with the name Siegfried von Hagen and slips it into his pocket whilst Igrainne inspects a slightly worn arrow. "Well that was weird," Alenea says and shoves the sock deep into her pocket.
Reaching up to her chest she grips the handle of her silver dagger and unsheathes it. Turning it over she inspects the weapon and reads the Sylvan inscribed along the blade, a smile on her face as she recalls her days roaming the streets of Waterdeep learning to use it. "I'm going to go start a proper collection for him," she says and turns to walk towards the bar.
The front of the tavern is busy but not many people turn as the elf pulls a stool away from the bar and positions it below a cross-beam running from one end of the room to the other. Jumping up onto the stool she throws her arms outwards to try and regain her balance as she wobbles slightly.
Running a hand along the wood a warmth fills her, the joy of having found a new home in her mind and happy to have somewhere to leave a mark. Finding the perfect spot she leans forward and carves her name Alenea before plunging the dagger into the beam above it. She hops down from the stool and stands back to admire her handiwork, hoping that this isn't the last adventurer memento added to the Ettin's walls.
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The group looks at each other as the door to Coll's bedroom closes behind them. Alenea shakes her head and looks down at the sock clutched in her hand, wondering when Coll had had the chance to take it. Beside her the butler carefully folds a handkerchief embroidered with the name Siegfried von Hagen and slips it into his pocket whilst Igrainne inspects a slightly worn arrow. "Well that was weird," Alenea says and shoves the sock deep into her pocket.
Reaching up to her chest she grips the handle of her silver dagger and unsheathes it. Turning it over she inspects the weapon and reads the Sylvan inscribed along the blade, a smile on her face as she recalls her days roaming the streets of Waterdeep learning to use it. "I'm going to go start a proper collection for him," she says and turns to walk towards the bar.
The front of the tavern is busy but not many people turn as the elf pulls a stool away from the bar and positions it below a cross-beam running from one end of the room to the other. Jumping up onto the stool she throws her arms outwards to try and regain her balance as she wobbles slightly.
Running a hand along the wood a warmth fills her, the joy of having found a new home in her mind and happy to have somewhere to leave a mark. Finding the perfect spot she leans forward and carves her name Alenea before plunging the dagger into the beam above it. She hops down from the stool and stands back to admire her handiwork, hoping that this isn't the last adventurer memento added to the Ettin's walls.
