Re: (Pathfinder) The Curse of the Crimson Throne IC
Though happy to be free from the din of the festival, Atavian found in the lecture the most boring adversary his mind had confronted since his first semester of enchantments. It was not long until the beast sapped all of young Atavian's ability to stay conscious, and he drifted off to sleep. The past weeks had been rough on him. Being so adjusted to a life privilege, he was not adjusting well to the life of a transient - even more than one might expect from one in his situation. Life in the streets was very rough for an extremely meek, over-educated, under-motivated halfling. He ached all over from bruises that still hadn't healed in over a week. He was a little undernourished from lack of quality food. He craved a warm meal and a comfortable bed. At least his dreaming was taking him there...
Atavian awakes with a start the instant something strikes his forehead. For a moment, he sees the viper and the blades dripping with poison, before his waking mind can sort through the details his baser parts panic. He emits a shriek and jumps back in his chair before the card drops from his view reminding him where he really is. In spite of his adrenaline flowing, he makes a conscious effort to calm down. He chides himself, Gods, Atavian. You're too high strung... relax.
Pulling the card from his feet, he mutters almost inaudibly, "a harrow card?" He huffs a laugh at the image that gave him such a fright. He looks around him - the lecture drones on - it seems he was not the only one sleeping. He stares blankly at the drool being sponged into the beard of the snoring dwarf a few seats from him. A few seconds of watching the grotesque display sends his attention back to the card.
His thoughts try to make sense of it, snakebite? Where did this even come from? He looks about to see no one. The young halfling finally flips the card over - the message scrawled there spikes his adrenaline once again. "Lamm!" he practically shouts as he jumps from his seat. The man ruined his life in so many ways. With a realistic opportunity for revenge laid before him, all thoughts of a warm meal and a comfortable bed leave his mind. He hustles out of the University - all potential concerns about the meeting are utterly alien to him. The anger clouding his mind screams, convince that monster Tallox to rip that old bastard's limbs off! The halfling hurries as fast as his little legs will carry him to Lancet Street.