Cyre Red (IC)

[Spore]

Surge the Sellsword Shifter Ranger AC: 17 HP: 44/44 PP: 15 PIv: 15 PIs: 14 Conditions: Devil Panther's Sight (120 ft) Concentration: - Surge was annoyed the carriage was so slow. The other had convinced him it was proper not to run ahead and scout the area like some sort of paranoid nutjob. The slower races bored him to no end. As a swiftstride, he typically was faster than anything short of a lightning rail. He kept occupied watching out of the window silently. Not much had changed. New refugees mixed with the old blood of Cyrans. The township constantly grew, but some unwanted elements were likely to be attracted as soon as the town had some sort of money. For now, the feline shifter felt it safe enough. No money? No burglars, robbers and cutthroats. Just weeping women. In all actuality, Surge felt strangely welcome here. The hostility towards the lycan-bloods was deafened here, as the people knew him for what he was, even if that was being a mercenary. In Sharn he was ostracised and segregated, but here he was a member of the community, even if it was steeped in suffering. As the majordomo adressed the group, Surge just nodded. Surge is fine. I assume we are here to work, not chat. But one question: Do we need to conduct ourselves as royalty considering Prince Oargev is known as the Pauper Prince? I will not pretend to be his servant, but I do appreciate his work for all of New Cyre. The gnome was nice enough to praise their punctuality. It was no point of honor, but of safety to be somewhere early to check out the area. The shifter scanned the manor for entry points. New Cyre was safe but Oargev was inconvenient for more than a handful of powerful people. With him learning more about the Mournlands and its buried secrets as well as extending his reach into Breland, he was at risk.