Pulren Marsh
Your Favorite Uncle
Your Favorite Uncle
19th of Fall, 517 AV
Pulren stood before his small basin, working carefully to clean his beard with his straight razor. He had taken to thinning it and cleaning it up. When you were a mercenary, unless you were masquerading as another, who cared how you looked? As long as an itchy beard didn't distract you from the kill, so be it. However, this day marked a new way in the Zeltivan's thinking. After his run the morning before, he had happened upon the Antiquities Society of Riverfall and his attention was completely hooked like one of his fish.
An entire society devoted to exploration, anthropology, archaeology and history! Not since the days of the University of Zeltiva had Pulren been so hungry for knowledge. He had seen glimpses of cartographical glory inside but, at the time, felt as if he were a little too disheveled to enter. So when Syna rose on this day, he was determined to look his best. His black leather pants slid on easily, tightened with his black leather belt. His black linen shirt was tucked into the pants with his long, black rabbit fur lined cloak completing the look. He brushed his hair and looked at the razor, then scanning over to his high boots.
Sitting in his armchair, he took the boots and turned them over, a stray pebble shaking out of the left one. After unceremoniously sliding them on, he sat there for some time just looking at the straight razor on the basin. It had been literally years since he traveled anywhere without it folded in his right boot. "Today is a different day. A new day.", he said to the empty apartment. He did take the time to clean and close the razor, placing it on the right side of the basin. He felt a little guilty, as if abandoning an old friend. A small pat and he made his way outside into the cool air of the day.
Fortunately, it was brisk and blustery enough to call for the cloak. He could have easily underestimated the weather and looked ridiculous in warmer climes. Looking out at Laviku in the form of the Suvan, he bowed his head and said a small prayer to the Sea Father before walking down the steps into the street. Pulren pulled his leather gloves out of his pocket and gave them a shake, sliding each one on and stretching his fingers in them as he worked his way through the city. A small sack with the fifty mizas required waited inside his cloak as well. Yes, today would be a different day.
