RE: Quest for the Gemgark
03-19-2012, 11:56 AM
(This post was last modified: 03-19-2012, 11:58 AM by Pharmacy.)
It was just a goodly few days ago, when Festinger decided to wake up and walk away from the montonous realms of his university. To be honest, he had no idea how he managed to barely scrape by in classes considering his truant-like view on schoolwork in general. Regardless, he managed to get the hard-kept title of "occultist" (which seemed to take forever) and now armed with that supernatural knowledge, he shall go for the goal he always dreamed of completely (which he greatly insists on reminding others).
"Would'cha stop reminding me," the farmer grumbled.
Festinger immediately stopped. The occultist was usually a quiet man, but sometimes when he catches his attention around certain subjects, he would not just stop talking - at all. He pondered a few minutes and realized he had been blathering about that newfangled Gemgark to a large excess. Festinger reminded himself to at least have some modicum of self-control when holding conversation - especially since the farmer had half-heartedly threatened to ditch him on the side of the road.
"Well, here we are."
Lost in judging himself, Festinger nearly skipped the sight of Dragon's Chest and the sight was...less than what he expected. It was kind of typical and kind of ramshackle-y with slightly dirty windows and crumbly bricks - tiny details that gave this inn a slightly grimy, worse-for-wear look. Festinger should have expected this - considering the selling point of Dragon's Chest was its alarmingly low rates.
"Thanks," Festinger politely murmured, carefully sliding himself off of the cart.
"Are you sure you want to stay at Dragon's Chest?" the farmer yelled from the cart as he adjusted the harnesses of the mules. "Not like Phoenix Legacy or Four Elements? Dragon's Chest may be the cheapest, but it certainly isn't the most safest. I heard it attracts all sort of ruffians, some of them shady as their nasty motives."
"Nah," Festinger replied. "I'm fine."
"Eh," the farmer shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just try not to get yourself killed, alright?"
"Mhmm." And that was all he said as he carefully wiped the few strands of hay from his cloak. It took all his effort to trudge himself into the front of the door. General apathy attempted to dissuade him from his quest, almost convincing him that the door in front of him was probably the most uninteresting door in Granbatla ,and he should go to the side and take a nap. Fortunately, he inched his motivation forward and opened to the door. After all, his goal was very important and must never slip his mind.
Like a tavern rat, Festinger slipped in without notice. Despite his height and unusual clothes, he managed to pass by without much attention or raised eyes. The first thing that popped into his mind was to get a room. Yeah, I should get a room Festinger quietly murmured to himself as he wandered over to the counter and waited -almost as if he did notice the hunk of a dwarven school project in front of him.
"Would'cha stop reminding me," the farmer grumbled.
Festinger immediately stopped. The occultist was usually a quiet man, but sometimes when he catches his attention around certain subjects, he would not just stop talking - at all. He pondered a few minutes and realized he had been blathering about that newfangled Gemgark to a large excess. Festinger reminded himself to at least have some modicum of self-control when holding conversation - especially since the farmer had half-heartedly threatened to ditch him on the side of the road.
"Well, here we are."
Lost in judging himself, Festinger nearly skipped the sight of Dragon's Chest and the sight was...less than what he expected. It was kind of typical and kind of ramshackle-y with slightly dirty windows and crumbly bricks - tiny details that gave this inn a slightly grimy, worse-for-wear look. Festinger should have expected this - considering the selling point of Dragon's Chest was its alarmingly low rates.
"Thanks," Festinger politely murmured, carefully sliding himself off of the cart.
"Are you sure you want to stay at Dragon's Chest?" the farmer yelled from the cart as he adjusted the harnesses of the mules. "Not like Phoenix Legacy or Four Elements? Dragon's Chest may be the cheapest, but it certainly isn't the most safest. I heard it attracts all sort of ruffians, some of them shady as their nasty motives."
"Nah," Festinger replied. "I'm fine."
"Eh," the farmer shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just try not to get yourself killed, alright?"
"Mhmm." And that was all he said as he carefully wiped the few strands of hay from his cloak. It took all his effort to trudge himself into the front of the door. General apathy attempted to dissuade him from his quest, almost convincing him that the door in front of him was probably the most uninteresting door in Granbatla ,and he should go to the side and take a nap. Fortunately, he inched his motivation forward and opened to the door. After all, his goal was very important and must never slip his mind.
Like a tavern rat, Festinger slipped in without notice. Despite his height and unusual clothes, he managed to pass by without much attention or raised eyes. The first thing that popped into his mind was to get a room. Yeah, I should get a room Festinger quietly murmured to himself as he wandered over to the counter and waited -almost as if he did notice the hunk of a dwarven school project in front of him.