[b]Robin Throckmorton
Deliar - The Boot Bucke[/b]

[b]“By Rina’s hair, are you perhaps enjoying my company a bit too much?”[/b] The woman told him on a rather challenging tone, and he leaned on the bar to serve her an intruiged response. However, before his lips had even formed the first word, a red-faced fury stormed through the crowd and abducted his companionship, much to the amusement of his comrades. Rolling his eyes, he accepted his defeat. If there was one thing this veteran had learned, there was only one foe you could never outsmart, never defeat, never trick, no, not even silently assassinate. An angry mother or wife. Backing off was the only sane option here, so he let his cup be refilled untill the establishment went silent again.

His soft grin turned into an unstoppable snickering as he slammed the bar with his fist repeatedly. This situation was just too funny. Stepping out from the crowd that had completely fallen silent, he blessed the Gods for sending Lord Valfunde Perar here, a man with at least a little bit of honour and respect for moral values. [b]"Aye, Lord Valfunde, I saw it with my own eyes. Vincent grabbed the lass by her skirts, and I could see it in his deformed face he was up to no good. Our good man's peacekeeper reachd his face just a tad earlier than his hand reached under her skirts. Perhaps we should let Vincent and Jymson 'ere change jobs. Obviously that ugly drunkard is better fit for holding a whorehouse, and our good barkeep 'ere can smack a Barbarian skull or two, probably even in one hit."[/b] He said, stepping away from the bar. Anticipating a question about his rank, and seeing the red-faced recruits stare him down in anger, he sent them a wolfish grin. [b]"If poor ol' Tessarius Digby wouldn't have gotten crippled, he'd have gotten Vincent flogged a long time ago."[/b]