Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160726175355/@comment-28358106-20160730014351

Lucida looks back out the window. "No,  it's nothing," she says quietly.

Praetor follows the Ranger to a group gathered in an open common area. Gathered in a circle are several human soldiers and Elven Rangers. Questions are being thrown around as the humans and Elves argue.

"I'm telling you, it isn't possible," a Ranger says. "There couldn't possibly be that many."

The crowd parts enough for Praetor to get a look at the new arrival. She's a Dwarf, but she's the biggest Dwarf Praetor's ever seen, at least twice as big as a normal one. She has short, wild blonde hair, and her striking blue eyes shine out from a face that, if it weren't covered in the soot of war and a streak of blood, would be beautiful. She wears the geometric armor in the fashion of Dwarvenkind, and it looks as if an ordinary man would barely be able to lift it. An enormous axe is buried in the stone beside her.

She tosses her head back after pouring water over it, and drinks the rest. She speaks, her voice rich, clear, and heavily accented.

"And I'm telling you, if there were ten, there were thousands.  They ain't interested in coming here, they're trying to get into the Hrung, so you can quit yer quaking and get back to yer mincing, or whatever it is yer doing."

"We fought our way here just the same as you!" says a human soldier.

She turns and looks at him. "Aye.  But you can bet your bloomers that you didn't fight as many as we've been.  You wanna head over and count the numbers for yerself, tallboy?"

He remains silent. She scoffs. "Didn't think so.  Now go and get me some fuckin' mead."