Galawayn wasn't really angry, not yet anyway. What he was right now though, was worried. The spellbook the rogue had lifted from his pockets was suite valuable to him. Not because of its contents, those could be replaced. He wanted the book itself back. Like his decorated staff, his spellbook too was a memento from home. The opening passages werent magical formulas but simply a collection of poetry from his mother and sister, the fine leather cover was tastefully decorated with the glarman family emblem. The book breathed nobility, much mike his staff.
"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, and frankly I don't care. I see you set yourself down comfortably. Let me show I don't mean to fight right now." With a clatter, the staff was laid on the table, equally as far as the rogue had lais her weapons. "Now tell me... what's stopping me from calling the town guard on you for petty theft?"
"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, and frankly I don't care. I see you set yourself down comfortably. Let me show I don't mean to fight right now." With a clatter, the staff was laid on the table, equally as far as the rogue had lais her weapons. "Now tell me... what's stopping me from calling the town guard on you for petty theft?"