“Dah!” The man hears her and runs off.
“Sure thing!”
This lady in a white robe sticks out like a mud. Poor people are poor.
That man dropped his cash. Guess I’ll hang onto it for a while.
Erbit quickly looks inside his pouch. 20 silver… that ought to be enough for some ink, at the very least. Now if he could only find a shop that would sell it…
(@Geyde don’t suppose this is anything you can rp with npcs at all?)
“Bought his own shovel, then asked for his money back. He then gave me the shovel, got hit in the head, then left.”
“I don’t know either.”
She giggles as Lillian drinks the tea.
“I’m Jill. A seamstress out in these woods. I don’t quite get company that often. Why’re you here?”
He puts his hand over the book, trying to feel the turmouil. If for 245 years it took him to gain free will, this devil would take way longer. Making him wait, however, was madness.
“What do we need to do now?”
The smith raises a brow.
“What’re you looking for? I’ve got recommendations, and some stuff in the back if you’d like.”
“I’m Lily, an alchemist. I was just looking for plants to use in my brews but then there were these whispers… and then I found you, I guess? What is a seamstress doing in the middle of nowhere?”
(oh shit this tea spiked?)
(is this a sorcerer??)
The safe house is small. Though from the outside it looks like any other house in the slum, stepping inside will give a different impression.
Andar takes off the hood of his cloak and grabs the piece of metal lying on the wooden table. A locksmith tool courtesy of an old friend.
The piece of metal he uses to open a storage chest. It’s important not to use the key hidden in the vase as it opens a different compartment altogether.
A satisfying click.
Andar opens the chest. Inside lays a burlap sack. He takes it and closes the chest. He doesn’t need to open the sack to know what is inside; 5 gold coins, 100 silver, two sets of clothes, one of a rich merchant and another of a peasant, and a royal seal. His identity as Iskandar Lionheart lies on the seal… Not that he doesn’t have a few imitation handy in case he lost the real one.
"Now, " Andar mutters as he leaves his safe house. “what next?”
