Grimbrand tried to ignore the annoying prat at first, attempting to remain inconspicuous within the confines of his long hooded cloak.
“Are you deaf good sir? I could be of great service to you!”
To his horror, the man actually grabbed him by the arm, the silly smile, warm with bon homme still plastered across his fat face.
Grimbrand sighed deeply, turning towards the gentleman, allowing the man’s gaze to fall upon his withered skull, the gem within his eyesocket glowing deep within the folds of his hood. Though unable to see color, Grimbrand could see the blood fall from the man’s noble Heartlander visage plain enough. The merchant gave a short, strangled cry as he staggered back, the smile sliding right into an expression of abject horror.
“Oh really?” said Grimbrand politely in his deep, mellow voice. “I suppose I could use some skin cream. My complexion’s been terribly dry lately.”
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