| Devandre returned to the rearing stallion just like he said he would when he first met Sasin. Standing outside under the red hanging sign checking to make sure he had some coin and if he was being tailed by any unfavorable characters. Well most were unfavorable characters to Devandre, it was nothing personal it was just how the man thought. Entering the flame lit tavern his feet making soft thuds on the wooden floor. His hands touch the lip of the counter of the bar as he looks for a favorable spot that was furthest away from the warm fireplace. Finding a favorable table near a corner, not one completely dark but satisfyingly dim. He walks slowly through the maze of tables and chairs to the predetermined table. He planned his path to minimize conflict with other who may be in the tavern at the time. It was fairly early, only about an hour off of the rush time about five in the afternoon. Having reached the table the man pulls out a chair to the right and has a seat on it, where he then looks out into the tavern. Seth was doing his usual chores of waiting tables. Seth a good lad had an unfortunate future joining the Sylirian Knights. Devandre snorted a scoff at the thought of throwing ones life away to be wholly just and noble. He was never one to like incredibly evil no moral types either, but preferred to stay in the middle ground. What he does to get through life may be frowned upon but if you had certain talents and you did those talents well you’d want to get paid for it as well. He taps his fingers not in impatience but in thought, “I wonder if Sasin wants an ale?” “Wusss-the-ssold yusss-the-sssou Lusss-the-sssike ussthesssa Suss-the-ssuppluss-the-ssier ussthessof puss-the-ssoisuss-the-son?” He spoke in gibberish an old word game he used to use to give information to others during the years of the owls. Seth during his time spent in thought had brought him a cup of ale, syliras finest. |
Gibberish :
