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Tancred suddenly gets up, his face a mixture of shock and anger. "MAZZWELLYNA FENTAN? How... how is this possible? How, in the name of all that is holy and good and fluffy and nice and sweet, can a Truesword of Arvoreen shame herself so? If this is true - you're a DISGRACE! If this is all some joke - you take your dignity very lightly! And I hoeld you in such regard. Helm's Teeth! Is there NOTHING in this world everlasting? I can't believe it... and I thought I was the rookie at this game..."
Tancred dejectedly picks up his sword, walking to the Tavern door. As he casts his last contemptuous glance to the assembled company, he accidentally walks into a figure just entering. The paladin haplessly looks at the new arrival.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I..."
Tancred tails off into silence. The man before him - dark-haired and awith a cruel sneer on his face - would win prizes at a Cardinal Richelieu Lookalike contest. With his black goatee, dark armour and twin swords of blacksteel, the man oozes menace. The man speaks, his voice somehow managing to sound both laid-back and very, very threatening.
"Tancred? It's been a while, my old... acquaintance."
The paladin's face falls, anger giving way to shock.
"Mal - Malvolio?"
The swashbuckler grins, a nasty, lopsided grin.
"So glad you remember me. Well, you've just invaded my personal space... care to buy me a drink to make amends, 'Paladin'?"
Tancred
OOOOOOooooo, he's a MEEEEAN man!
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