[b][sub][/sub][/b]
[hr][hr][center][color=778899][b]Richter // Hawkwood[/b][/color]
[color=598527][sub][b]LOCALE[/b] //The City of Thorinn, Lefig Lawn
[b]TIME[/b] // Morning[/sub][/color][/center][hr][hr]

To say that the group gathered here today for some holy matrimony of steel against monster ass was odd would be...100% accurate. While Hawkwood was familiar with most of them in passing, the wannabe Knight wasn't especially familiar with the new arrival of the goggled man or the person who seemed to be offering enchantments for a fee. Of course though, he could never forget Elian...one of the many healers he respected for having the stones to hold their own in a fight, and be damn scarier than the people she kept going back into the fight. At least, when it came to that. Chuckling beneath his helmet as he moved to remove it, Hawkwood spoke: [color=778899][b]"An honor to be promoted then. What was it last time again? Knight in shining Armoire?"[/b][/color] he questioned, having not quite lived down the time he mistook a bottle of shoe polish for armor polish. Wood wasn't a particularly flattering texture on armor. He'd have to wait on that joke-question, seeing as Elian was now a bit preoccupied. No matter, there was socializing to be done, and with someone who seemed rather pleasant. After all, not many incompetents or delinquents managed to last long against Elian's wit. And insults. Those things really smarted. He knew, especially in the earlier days of him playing Pariah. Back when he really was just some scholar pretending to be a Knight.

 [color=778899][b]"She will. Seen her do it once."[/b][/color] the knight said to the new-to-him-guy. [color=778899][b]"Don't think I've ever seen someone sink that far on something that sharp from the ass. Hawkwood, by the by. If you're in the market for useless local legends and the names of ancient elven nobles, I'm the man to ask."[/b][/color] he'd say, extending a gauntlet-ed hand for him to shake, turning his head to observe the flaming snake getting handled like a common garter. Well...better Thael than him. He'd always been a bit wary about snakes...even without poison, they were diseased little things. Not to mention the time in his childhood where hundreds of garters nested in his bedroom wall...a hundred pissed garters make more noise than a train derailing when its right by your ear. Thael handled it well though, despite his butchering of the English...wait, what was the language here even called? There's no England to speak of! Well...guess it isn't butchering if its not English. Despite his 1337 gamer speak, there wasn't a single person Hawkwood knew who was better at making sure the more fragile members of their little congregations stayed unbroken. Even Hawkwood himself was mostly a supportive tank, and he'd had his skin saved more than enough times by the Mountain of a Man that was [s]cena[/s]Thael. Maybe sometime he'd have to ask for workout tips.