Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-19164168-20191231094328/@comment-25073873-20200125025850

Alvin Bourgereau. A vagrant man who somehow had the money to pay for a drink at a local tavern. He sat within a tavern, watching with some fascination as a barmaid sashayed by, sipping his drink quietly until his sight finally settled on the face of the lady that caught his eye. While she didn't have a bad figure, the face she had almost made Alvin choke on his drink, although he managed to get it down successfully. It was a disappointedment.

"Ugh, if only I wasn't forced to dive out of that window in Jehanna when her father caught me. I wouldn't have to run halfway across the damned province. Damned nobles and their etiquette, at least she was pretty, not like this one here" muttered Alvin as he finished up the remainder of his cheap wine, unimpressed by the taste although he perfectly expected it from the price he paid. It wasn't that he was particularly poor, even if his clothes suggested it, just that he was miserly and would never eat an expensive meal with the full knowledge that it would be no different from cheap grub once it passed through  the digestive system in full.

Such a cheap tavern was naturally a place frequented by rowdy adventurers and rouges, not a high class establishment for proper ladies, so perhaps it was just a misalignment of expectations and reality, but to Alvin, the slight distaste on his face was evident as his eyes scanned the other patrons, who were mostly male. He was out of liquor and the bowl of somewhat burnt chicken wings was long picked bare from Alvin's table, leaving nothing but his sheathed sword on the table

"Old friend, wonder if you will finally yield your secret to me. We've travelled across High Rock together and still you remain quiet. I was expecting more from a magic sword" remarked Alvin as he turned to look at his sword, touching the hilt absentmindedly.