Visiting the nephew.
((@thanilan)) Knock,
Knock,
Knock. The rough wooden finish of the door made it uncomfortable to knock on. While waiting for a recipient I found myself peeking through a crack in the door, wondering if I had the right place, but I could see nothing. What a hassle. Just as I turned on the heel of my boot to leave, the door creaked open slowly, but nobody seemed to be holding it. I sighed deeply. Around the left corner, sword drawn I bet. He never changes does he? A grin forming along my mouth, I step quickly inside the door, right hand rising, and whipping around the left of the room to poitn at----- Nothing..? Click. I raise my hands calmly, and slowly turn around. Flintlock, and to the right of the door. Well, this is new. “What sort of greeting is that for an old friend Galam?” The man snorted indignantly. “ ‘Friend’ “ he repeated, the word dripping with sarcasm. He wore mail of blackened scales from his neck to his boots, the only things uncovered being his face and his biceps. A tattered, bloodstained tabard of blue clung desperately yo his chest, tied over both shoulders like a sort of double-toga. The sigil was my own, a large white canine paw print centered amongst a worn sea of blue cloth. “As fashionable as ever I see.” I would raise my brow questioningly. “Why do you still sport Frostclaw colors?” Galam looked at me plainly. “You may be a piece of shit, but the people who followed you are still family to me. They ain’t your colors anymore.” I nod slowly. “Fair enough I suppose. Don’t suppose I could speak to my nephew now?” The man jerked his head wordlessly towards a room adjacent to the entrance of the small home. Hi nodded and stepped past the doorway, crossed the short stretch of wooden floor, and slid into the room. It was a simple room, not much more than a bed and a dresser adorning it. Upon the bed lie a sleeping azure-haired man with notable elven features. Thanilan looked much different than last I saw him. He was so pale, his normally azure complexion nearly blended with the white sheets. There was hardly any meat on the boys bones. He had clearly been starved. However, neither of these were first thing I noticed. The first thing I noticed, was his metallic right hand. From the middle of his right forearm down, was entirely comprised of brushed steel. It looked mechanical, but I don’t know engineering very well. I looked at Galam with a worried expression. “Don’t worry Grakkath he’ll be fine.” “No, it’s not that.” “Then..What?” “Well, its just....you couldn’t have given him something cooler, like, a shotgun hand or something?” “.....”
“Get out.”
