[center][h3][u]Onarr Yidlob[/u][/h3][/center]

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[center]Interacting With: [@dragonpiece][/center]

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Isla DÁmato reminded him of the Joruban Republic with its humid climate and the crowds of sailors he’d regularly see whenever he accompanied his father down to the docks, plying their trade and salvaging steel from weary sellswords who were looking to make a quick coin. He adjusted the scuff of his helm, now glowing with a more silver luster than before. He hoped the alterations he made would allow his treasured gift from his brother to weather the briny air. 

He ignored the gazes of the onlookers who by all accounts, looked as though they had never seen a dwarf in their entire life. As he listened to Desmond’s plans, he was nonplussed by the air of bravado his classmate seemed to be determined to put on. His head craned towards the location where Desmond pointed to and he frowned. Dorvalish was not a part of his limited repertoire of languages. It would be hard for him and Ingrid to fit in and he severely doubted that she spoke adequate Dorvalish. 

“ Thank you,” he replied to Ingrid as they both walked together to the Main. His ears perked up at her plan and he looked up at her in anticipation.

“ Do tell. Does it involve subtlety or something more….loud?”