Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-7262318-20190828021314/@comment-5543592-20190828023642

"It's my honor." Old Smith said to her, heading towards the door. "Always by too much food, anyway.  Used to buying for two."

Before the blacksmith could exit, however, three Nords entered. They were tall men, not as tall as the old man, but taller than Jack and Vander. They had lean, fit builds, warriors the three of them, and their studded leathers and swords said as much.

The first of them, likely the leader, had a conventionally handsome face, unexceptional except for a large, disfiguring scar that went from his left eye down to his chin. His long blond hair was tied back in a pony tail.

"Afternoon, old man." He sneered, stepped towards Old Smith, forcing him to back away. "How's the day?"

"Well, Bjorn." The blacksmith's voice was cold.

The warrior nodded, looking over Jack and Vander, taking stock of their unusual appearances.

"Who're you two?" He asked, bewildered, and because of that he scowled.