Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24123288-20150401175844/@comment-12599067-20150404201052

(M'bad, then. I wasn't certain but figured I might as well say it anyways.)

Clarent slowly and carefully approached the campfire, ever mindful of the fact that he might be walking right up to a bandit camp. When he was close enough to make out the features of the people who sat around the campfire, he hung back and took a moment to look each of them over.

There was a Redguard man who seemed to be showing the other two, an Imperial (at least, he thought she was Imperial) woman and a shirtless, somewhat(?) well-muscled Breton man, a map. He could hear bits and pieces of their conversation, but not enough to fully piece together what it was they were talking about. Still, it didn't really matter to him. He was just relieved that they were (or at the very least appeared to be) travellers instead of bandits.

He did note, however, that they were still armed. That raised the question of how exactly he was to present himself without looking like some warlock who wanted to burn them alive and use their bones to make something amusing. He probably gave off the look-- he'd spent a few nights in the wilderness and was well-aware that he probably looked about as bad as he thought he smelled. So he hung back for a moment as he considered his options, still keeping an eye on the group just in case something happened.