Search Posts
Sal smiles, for while his abilities in combat are poor at best, a play with words is something he can handle with aplomb! "Zandyk, it is a pleasure, allow us to eschew obfuscation and engage in repartee." Sal launches into a slick speech of encouragement, built upon both rhythm and rhyme with the kind of esoteric vocabulary that only an academic can appreciate. He encourages the sphynx to not giving up the dream.
Sal tries to cover his face, but he's a bit too slow. With his eyes watering from the dust he struggles to focus. He stumbles over eastward a bit where he begins singing a powerful song, likening the blades of the heroes to the whipping sands of the desert. He adds in a spell to shield himself for a moment.
There is a stark juxtaposition between the man's travel warn garb and his perfectly manicured beard. Sal'wutah Ibn Ka'atib is simultaneously ready to hobnob with royalty and to draw steel against the undead. His smile is easy and contagious. The hot son feels good to the man. He looks at the board, "Well well well, this sounds like my kind of story." He looks around at the others who are also eyeing the bulletin. Some people look with only a fleeting glance, but a small handful look with purpose and a sense of adventure. He introduces themselves to those souls, "I am Sal'wutah Ibn Ka'atib. I can tell that the mystery stirs more than me. Who shall join me?" |
