Tarlyn ponders this piece of information. A Nobleman from where? Richemulot. Where is that? Not yet another province in this joke of a hellhole?alhoon wrote:"I see... So you're in fact the person that started that argument earlier. No need to be afraid of betrayal my friend." Draxton smiles,
"after all, we are together in this. As for secrets, I'm a noble from Richemoulot. I know how to keep secrets. I also hope that you too won't prove foolhardy or openmouthed Tarlyn."
OOC> Draxton is 90% sure that he is a spy for Rivtoff that just said he is so. Draxton tells him he will keep quiet as long as he also keeps his mouth shut.
I wonder how he and Dadrag met up and what their stories are.I'll keep my ears and eyes open indeed.
Tarlyn looks up at the battering, pounding rain, sighing and shaking his cloak to try to rid himself of the rain pouring down on him.His other sword now reappears on his hip, he feeling secure in the knowledge that his faithful blades accompany him.
"Let us please hurry to our destination, Sir,or I fear this rain will be the death of us all". Tarlyn increases the pace a bit, hoping that Draxton hurries as well to get out of the rain.
Will I be ever so glad to change out of these wet clothes into something more suitable for travelling in the swamp. I think my eyes and ears will be most welcome on our little trek to meet this "Chicken Bone".
Tarlyn peers into the gloom of the night, searching for any tailers or moving shadows, very alert to his surroundings, hands hovering near his hilts, ready at the slightest trouble.