[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230112/708cdcbd8f2adb4ddee36951523c7257.png[/img] [/center] [center]* * *[/center] Clive found himself in a bustling marketplace, vibrant with life and infused with a hint of magic. The air buzzed with anticipation, as townsfolk hurried about what with the building tension of impending conflict at their doors the southerner didn't doubt that people were in a hurry for one reason or another. He made his way to a leatherworking shop in the big city, a quaint establishment with a sturdy wooden door and a sign that creaked gently in the breeze. The shop had a warm, inviting atmosphere, with shelves made from rough-hewn timber lined with various leather goods. The scent of cured leather filled the air, mingling with the earthy smell of wood and the faint aroma of beeswax from the polished surfaces. Inside, the shop was simply decorated, with leather tools hanging on the walls and a workbench cluttered with pieces of armor and supplies. The space was well-used, showing signs of hard work and craftsmanship, and an open window let in fresh air, carrying the sounds of the bustling market outside. The southerner approached the counter, where a man stood looking about in his middle age, the man was Nimuer Farlorn a hardworking but also easygoing man with an infectious smile that he offered the Texan with a joint dangling from his lips "Huh, what can I do ya for sir?" Clive's hands brushed against a leather chest piece, its texture felt warm and inviting, promising strength in the face of danger. The craftsmanship was evident, infused with enchantments that would enhance his agility in battle "[color=F1B338]I reckon I’ll take this here chest piece and them enchanted hand wraps,[/color]” Clive declared, his voice carrying a familiar Southern drawl. “[color=F1B338]Ain’t no way I’m gonna skimp on protection when there’s a fight brewin’.[/color]” Nimuer, with a knowing grin nodded enthusiastically. “A wise choice, my friend! These will serve you well in battle, just ten gold for that." The southerner chuckled, appreciating the merchant's spirit amidst the tension in the air, and dropped the gold coins on the table with a faint clatter securing himself his gear before bidding the man farewell. [center]* * *[/center] The morning sun cast a warm glow, illuminating the determined faces of the men and women who had gathered to hone their skills for what was to come. Clive felt a sense of responsibility swell in his chest; these were not just soldiers, but normal folk like anyone else, each one counting on him to guide them. “[color=F1B338]Alright, y’all![/color]” clearing his throat he called out, voice ringing with authority “[color=F1B338]We got ourselves a fight ahead, and it’s time to get our heads in the game. Let’s make sure we’re ready to stand together when the time comes.[/color]” As he watched them respond, a mixture of excitement and anxiety filled the air. Clive remembered the days working the fields back in Texas. Back then, he’d lead a team to harvest crops, but now he was leading a group of fighters preparing for battle. The weight of their trust was heavy, yet it spurred him on.