Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5583506-20160127045825/@comment-6006054-20160207173344

Taervik was drinking with the morning regulars. His mail almost shone beneath its rust and wear. His surcoat was threadbare and stained, its colors faded. A large hole gaped on the surcoat's chest, the city emblem conspicously missing. It was obvious that Taervik was an exile, but here he was just another man up early, and another man to drink with.