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Jul 22, 2013 15:15:56 GMT -5
Tag me @richarddecalys
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Post by Richard de Calys on Oct 16, 2011 15:45:26 GMT -5
I haven't put this in a specific timeline as I didn't know what suited you, so let us know and I'll edit. Also, I thought it would be amusing to have Richard annoyed when Mordred appears as he's a child, so he'd be a bit "Wait, they sent a child? To meet me!"
Richard de Calys had heard much about the Druids - mostly gossip and hearsay, mind. Apparantly they were evil beings, spawned from the Devil himself. Apparantly they were wicked and bloodthirsty and would not be content until all of Albion had fallen, and the country plunged into darkness. But Richard, not being one to believe such nonsense, did not care much. He never gave a moment's thoughts to the politics of any situation. If anything that disastrous did befall Albion he would just leave, simple as. For him, the Druids were neither monsters nor freedom fighters; they were income. Hopefully they were exciting income, but income nonetheless.
He had actually been rather surprised to hear his services were required by such a people. From what he had heard - and from that, what he believed - they were a rather reclusive and secretive people. Whatever they wanted from him must be important for them to ask for help outside their circle. He supposed he had his reputation to thank for that. All across Albion he was famed for his skills, obviously word had reached the Druids.
The thought brought a smile to his lips as he strolled through the forest. Annoyingly, most of his initial meetings with customers occured in forests, at night as well. It was a wonder none of the more unsavoury characters were never found. All the respective authorities need to was venture into the respective forest, at night, and find whoever it was that was trying to bring about the downfall of the respective authoritive body. Even Richard could do that.
The main thing that annoyed him about such moonlit meetings was his cloak usually ended up ruined. It was very hard indeed to waltz around a forest at night, in a superbly swishy cloak, and not find it stuck to at least three branches at any given time. He would have given up on the cloak wearing months ago if he didn't like the image. Because, when it came down to it, Richard de Calys was a man of image. A flamboyant image, a perfected image, and one that could be completely ruined by tripping over an unearthed tree root, or something equally as likely and annoying.
Avoiding another near-hit in the face with a branch, Richard found himself in a clearing. An empty clearing. He let out a sigh, that was annoying. He hated waiting for his customers, there was always a feeling of desperation. He liked making an entrance, but could not do that by arriving first. So instead and found himself a tree to lean on and look nonchaland, and waited.
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