[b][u]E Z L A N[/u][/b]
[color=Gray][i]At the guild[/i][/color][hr]



The coincidences of life n fate.

Ezlan, bare foot and chested casually stroll into the main guild hall, shoving the main doors open wide with a fierce bravado and gusto as he entered. His movements were very aloof and without any urgency at all. He carried with him an air of confident surety often reserved only for those in positions of power, the elite and important, those otherwise considered untouchable. 
Having found an apple on a nearby table, ignoring the current bite missing from it or the ownership therefore implied, he threw it into the air a couple of times, bouncing it in his hand before crunching deep into it, the juices running over his swollen lip and down his bearded chin as he carelessly devoured it, core and all. 

Meanwhile a few rooms away, with dishevelled burgundy hair and in ruffled twisted leathers, the runner was slouched over herself hurriedly re-lacing her boots. It was considered improper of her not to be present at her wards arrival. As a long standing guild member she prided herself on her service and contributions to the guild that literally saved her life. Failing this frustrated her, a frustration that steadily grew and was aimed at Ezlan.

“Where’s the old salt hiding?” Ezlan called out aloud to some passers by, only swallowing the last of his food after he spoke.
“The guild master.” He quickly added after realising their confusion. He had not been away from the sea for long, and had been at the guild for even less, since then he had been finding language and mannerisms that he needed to adjust, customs that needed to be learnt, but for most parts it was something he cared little for. Fitting in was never really his thing. 

Never having received a formal summons to the guild before, Ezlan looked around for someone he might recognise. Although to be fair, due to lifestyle choices, unless there was a big breasted guild member, Ezlan was more likely to find a familiar face at the local brothel or tavern over his own guild hall. This was not a representation of his loyalties (or lack of), but rather an indicator of how he’d rather spend his free time. 

Spending as little time at the guild as possible also had helped ensure the longevity of his relationship and membership. It was a sign of value and respect that he had kept away.
Even a dog knows not to defecate where he sleeps. Or as the Caerbean commonly say, ‘Don’t soil your own nest.’

So his time had been spent exploring and getting to know his new city. To him this was truly a wonderful town, it still held that new undiscovered excitement that came with the unknown. Much wonder was hidden down the old and shabby streets, he was still finding many new holes to drink at and fill... 
He was a sailor after all, a Caerbean of high ego and low standards. 

With an eager excitement in his eyes, he wondered upon what new adventures and challenging dangers may unfurl from this highly mysterious meeting. Only time would tell.