Sweetroll76
Member
Name: Eoluen the Gentle
Race: Breton
Gender: female
Class: Conjurer/Alchemist.
Appearance: Tbh
The tavern door creaks open, followed by the telltale thump of heavy armor against the wooden floor, and the labored breath of a female. Upon closer examination, everything about her is strange. She seems to be in her late 20's to early 30's. Her face is round, with rosy cheeks beneath the dirt and grime of the day. Her skin is both pale and tan, a de-saturated brown color if you will, which against her royal blue eyes is again, odd. A scar made up of 3 jagged lines runs across the right side of her face, like an animal raked it claws across her lip and cheek. Her short, reddish-brown hair is held out of her face by a once-white hankerchief, now sullied with dirt and strange splotches of color. She is short, standing around at '5,5' but is surprisingly sturdy due to her pear-shaped body. She is dressed in...rather outlandish attire. It's really the body armor that sticks out so bad: the shoulder pads, as well as the breast plate, are made by what seems to be chitin plating, all the way from Solstheim. Underneath the plating is Netch leather, and some hints of corundum metal around the edges. A red cloth is wrapped around the collar, insinuating it is used to cover the mouth when needed. Besides the armor, the female stranger wears simple working gloves, as well as ordinary boots. Her hands grip the strap of a rather ordinary satchel, the thing lugged over her shoulder. "By the eight!" she exclaims breathlessly (her voice legitmately sounds like the ingame female voice for the dragonborn), "I really should have thought that through!"
"Did you go all the way to Hjaalmarch again?" The barmaid behind the counter folds her arms on the wooden counter in sly amusement, simply looking at the bizarre woman with a cocked eyebrow.
The woman hesitates, looking at her before looking away "I may have..." she begins while grinning sheepishly "taken an unplanned trip."
The barmaid gives a loud exasperated sigh, to which the woman defends "Lots of deathbells grow near there! And Deathbells are costly!"
Race: Breton
Gender: female
Class: Conjurer/Alchemist.
Appearance: Tbh
The tavern door creaks open, followed by the telltale thump of heavy armor against the wooden floor, and the labored breath of a female. Upon closer examination, everything about her is strange. She seems to be in her late 20's to early 30's. Her face is round, with rosy cheeks beneath the dirt and grime of the day. Her skin is both pale and tan, a de-saturated brown color if you will, which against her royal blue eyes is again, odd. A scar made up of 3 jagged lines runs across the right side of her face, like an animal raked it claws across her lip and cheek. Her short, reddish-brown hair is held out of her face by a once-white hankerchief, now sullied with dirt and strange splotches of color. She is short, standing around at '5,5' but is surprisingly sturdy due to her pear-shaped body. She is dressed in...rather outlandish attire. It's really the body armor that sticks out so bad: the shoulder pads, as well as the breast plate, are made by what seems to be chitin plating, all the way from Solstheim. Underneath the plating is Netch leather, and some hints of corundum metal around the edges. A red cloth is wrapped around the collar, insinuating it is used to cover the mouth when needed. Besides the armor, the female stranger wears simple working gloves, as well as ordinary boots. Her hands grip the strap of a rather ordinary satchel, the thing lugged over her shoulder. "By the eight!" she exclaims breathlessly (her voice legitmately sounds like the ingame female voice for the dragonborn), "I really should have thought that through!"
"Did you go all the way to Hjaalmarch again?" The barmaid behind the counter folds her arms on the wooden counter in sly amusement, simply looking at the bizarre woman with a cocked eyebrow.
The woman hesitates, looking at her before looking away "I may have..." she begins while grinning sheepishly "taken an unplanned trip."
The barmaid gives a loud exasperated sigh, to which the woman defends "Lots of deathbells grow near there! And Deathbells are costly!"