The Playground: Whispers of Taelarys IC

[the_druid_droid]

8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
2:15 PM
The Lord’s Arena

“I believe we have the Machinist’s Guild to thank for that, Ambassador.” Tarin had appeared gracefully next to the finely-dressed Rhetizian, and there was a note of wry humor in his voice as he spoke. “Some cooling device they’ve been tinkering with for days, although I wonder if it’s truly the most...elegant...solution.”

A few feet away, a sour look passed over Marcos’ face as his master joined the representative of the Shadow City, but Tarin would have ignored it even if his back had not been turned. The people of Rhetiz were known for their brutal efficiency, and the Inquisitor was possessed of a deep respect for that rare quality; he wouldn’t miss a chance to pay his respects to Ghedim. “But forgive me, I’m being horribly rude!” Raising his wineglass in a gesture of good will, Tarin continued, “It is a pleasure to see you here amongst us, Ambassador, and I hope Fortune smiles on you and yours in these uncertain days.”