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    Miraqariftsky's Avatar

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    Mar 2006
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    Stormwracked verdant hive
    Gender
    Male2Female

    Default Re: (PF) Rise of the Runelords: Burnt Offerings IC

    Rico hunches over the table of empty trenchers and empty flagons, her scarred face set in a scowl. Her battered greatcoat of heavy leather barely contains the thick thews of her arms and neck.

    Beneath the half-open coat's shadow, her bosom heaves with another sigh that paints the flagon with froth. She scowls deeper still at the blouse of scarlet silk that Missus Mila had foisted upon her. At least there's her personal-non-professional chainmail beneath and the padded gambeson beneath that still. Damn the sweat, but some's better'n none.

    Keen eyes pick out likely cutpurses and swindlers, here and there through the crowd. By their weaving, their glance and their stance those sots over there might turn violent. Asmodeus' arse, let them come.

    An idle hand flicks up a gnawed beef bone into her jaws for yet more gnawing through that incessant scowl. Amber eyes glare a hundred-mile stare into nothingness... or whoever unlucky mug might cross her eyes' path.

    Broad wolvish ears twitch at footfalls coming from behind her. Her left fist tightens around one tankard, her right twitches upward towards the hidden hilt of a shortsword sheathed on the inside of her coat's spine. A heartbeat later, she forcibly relaxes, her ears and nose confirming the familiar gait and scent...

    ...Rico grunts as Red sits back down and begins pouring drinks. She looks away with a frown, some blood rising to her face as she lets go of the tankard. Her right hand scratches a nonexistent itch on her ear and tucks away some stray charcoal-black hair as an excuse for her hand-on-hilt twitchiness.

    "Sorry..." she says to Red. "...hrhmm, and thanks."

    Thick brows knit together as she snorts violently, stroking her peace-bonded greatsword's pommel. Moving fluidly despite the drunkenness, she adjusts it such that it is sheathed across her broad back so that it isn't a tripping hazard for people passing beside their table.

    She grunts again at Red and says, looking at her over the rim of her stein, "Hey. Sorry about that--- almost trippin' ye wi' me clumsy sheathing. HEH. You did great, slammin' me on me back on deh mat that time, eh?"
    Last edited by Miraqariftsky; 2013-02-07 at 09:01 AM.
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