[The markets are busy and full of life and Tarquin finds himself feeling a little at home. Sure the kedan are damn weird looking compared to anything he's seen in his time, but the hustle and bustle is familiar.
He's not looking for anything in particular, rather just window shopping and taking in the sights. But then, there's a merchant pointing at him, telling him to come closer and Tarquin obliges. The closer he gets, the more he catches on that it's not him the merchant wants, rather one of the daggers at his belt.]
What, this ol' thing?
[He smirks, unsheathes the blade and flips it in his hand before putting it back in it's sheath.]
Not for sale, friendo.
[But the merchant insists, offering both money and whatever he can get his hands on from his stall to offer to Tarquin. Clay pots, something that looks like a toothbrush, a collection of jars labelled with things he can't read, a bag of black powder- At the powder Tarquin takes a step back and raises his hands in surrender.]
Whoa, whoa, easy there. It ain't for sale, y'know?
[WILDCARD]
[It's been a long week for Tarquin. Waking up on a turtle and finding that home is far, far away is a bit of a shock. His first few days went smooth enough; some questions were answered with ease while others have proven a little more difficult.
No matter how you look at it, the end result is the same. He has no say in going home. But then again, neither do the other foreigners. Tarquin isn't sure if it's a comfort or a worry that others are in the same boat.
A week of worry has him in need of a drink. Something hard to let him just relax a little and switch off for a bit. It's a plan that doesn't quite work. He relaxes, but his head doesn't shut off.
Thus there's a half-elf sitting on the ground, right where he deems the tip of the turtle's head to be. A half empty bottle of liquor rests beside him and a short sword sits beside that.]
So... You're a turtle, huh?
[Unlikely as it is that the turtle will hear him, he figures it's worth a shot.]
That's pretty cool, y'know? We ain't got nothin' like you back home.
[At least not this big.]
But uh... if you don't mind, and trust me I understand you're a busy guy... girl... uh. Turtle. If you could make a bit of a detour and drop me off home, that'd be swell.
[Yep. Even Tarq knows he's being ridiculous. He chuckles and shakes his head, leaving it at that.]
Tarquin Del Rey | OC
[The markets are busy and full of life and Tarquin finds himself feeling a little at home. Sure the kedan are damn weird looking compared to anything he's seen in his time, but the hustle and bustle is familiar.
He's not looking for anything in particular, rather just window shopping and taking in the sights. But then, there's a merchant pointing at him, telling him to come closer and Tarquin obliges. The closer he gets, the more he catches on that it's not him the merchant wants, rather one of the daggers at his belt.]
What, this ol' thing?
[He smirks, unsheathes the blade and flips it in his hand before putting it back in it's sheath.]
Not for sale, friendo.
[But the merchant insists, offering both money and whatever he can get his hands on from his stall to offer to Tarquin. Clay pots, something that looks like a toothbrush, a collection of jars labelled with things he can't read, a bag of black powder- At the powder Tarquin takes a step back and raises his hands in surrender.]
Whoa, whoa, easy there. It ain't for sale, y'know?
[WILDCARD]
[It's been a long week for Tarquin. Waking up on a turtle and finding that home is far, far away is a bit of a shock. His first few days went smooth enough; some questions were answered with ease while others have proven a little more difficult.
No matter how you look at it, the end result is the same. He has no say in going home. But then again, neither do the other foreigners. Tarquin isn't sure if it's a comfort or a worry that others are in the same boat.
A week of worry has him in need of a drink. Something hard to let him just relax a little and switch off for a bit. It's a plan that doesn't quite work. He relaxes, but his head doesn't shut off.
Thus there's a half-elf sitting on the ground, right where he deems the tip of the turtle's head to be. A half empty bottle of liquor rests beside him and a short sword sits beside that.]
So... You're a turtle, huh?
[Unlikely as it is that the turtle will hear him, he figures it's worth a shot.]
That's pretty cool, y'know? We ain't got nothin' like you back home.
[At least not this big.]
But uh... if you don't mind, and trust me I understand you're a busy guy... girl... uh. Turtle. If you could make a bit of a detour and drop me off home, that'd be swell.
[Yep. Even Tarq knows he's being ridiculous. He chuckles and shakes his head, leaving it at that.]