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Asgard: The Liberation.


Pack Rat

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Torvild has noticed the exchange. He does not recognise the woman or the armour. He glances through apparently drowsing eyes to take stock of his companions. He is not reassured.
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After giving Karath a sadisfied smile, Metthaï recieves his meal and retreats to a corner of the room. Neither the woman nor the conversation seem to intrest him nevertheles one eye was following the womans sword till it dissapiered..'hmm could sell that for lots of meals..' He stands up and walks towards the guard at the door..

"Say friend, do you have any idee who that swor..woman might be...?"

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The guard looks around to make sure no one is listening. He then gestures you to come closer.

 

"That's Lena Wolf-Fang... As much as I've learned she must be some high ranked person in the Asgardian Force. Yea, you heared me right. She is Asgardian. Don't be mistaken by her name tho. The Asgardians are somekind of a mixture of Nords and Imperials. They have the Imperial appearance but the strength and courage of a Nord. And nothing person but a whole lot brighter too than some Nord."

 

The guards seems to be laughing with his own comment. Whe you see you are quiete irritated he coughs and then continues.

 

"I noticed you're interested in the blade... Don't even think about it. That's a royal blade and anyone caught stealing it would be punished by death. Not everybody gets such a sword you know... Besides, anyone with such a blade is a well trained swordsman or in this case swordswoman. I sure won't be drawing swords against this woman..."

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"Wait! Am I too late?"

 

A man pushes his way through the crowd and the door, a pair of guards not far behind. Though mostly Nordish in appearance, his dark hair and tall, less muscled body seem oddly out of place with the rest of his features. He wears dark blue and gray clothes of an unfamiliar design, and a well worn dark gray cloak. From the movement of the cloth, it looks like he wears chest armor underneath, in addition to the more obvious greaves and bracers. His armor looks like adamantium, well made, but lacking the typical shine. A closer look reveals that the appearance is not from dirt, but from intentional dulling to cut unwanted reflections... the armor of someone who doesn't want to be seen. A pike, heavy wood longbow, and quiver of arrows are slung across his back, and the handles of throwing daggers can be seen coming from his vest pockets. He looks around, then turns to directly address the highest ranking guard in the room.

 

"Please, have mercy for a poor adventurer trying to make a name for himself. Let me join your quest!"

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To Aseir: The guard looks up rather surprised. At the beginning he seems to have problems remembering your words but they come back to him rather soon.

 

"Why mercy? We can use every single man we can get. As what I've heard from the reports out of Asgard, things arent exactly pretty... Anyway, you might want to fill in one of these forms, identification and such things... Also who to contact in case something might happen. After you're done you may give me the form and I'll make sure everything will be in order. Oh, you might be willing to pass by the armory to get your uniform and a blade in case you don't have one..."

 

After finishing his words he gives you one of the forms.

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