It’s an answer that passes muster. Plenty of weirdo sellswords making a new purpose for themselves in Riftwatch. Sylvester sniffs, and nods, approval in the jut of his jaw a glance away across the field ahead. Heat off, easy as that.
“City guard, yeah.” Last sheet of armor peeled off and tucked away, he flexes his hand against stiffness setting in at the joints.
“Took a break and did time with a couple of bands ‘round the same area before the blight.”
“Oh? Get out,” Barrow intones—- not that he’d have actually been in the same area during or before the Blight, but it’s easier to go with the notion that they might’ve met already.
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"And you, city watch, right?"
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“City guard, yeah.” Last sheet of armor peeled off and tucked away, he flexes his hand against stiffness setting in at the joints.
“Took a break and did time with a couple of bands ‘round the same area before the blight.”
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“Glad we didn’t kill each other.”