RONIN
Ronin was... like... out. Without his daughter or anything too pressing to take care of. He was actually out, enjoying a drink at the Rathskeller after a morning of training (jogging around the Outskirts was getting real old, real quick, but hells he had to get himself back in shape somehow). Having enjoyed a pleasant enough conversation with the bartender - where Edy was these days he didn’t know - and saying hello to Vai as she passed through for a visit, Ronin was about to head off, when Hurricane Beatrix roared through.
Like the rest of the patrons, Ronin swivelled on his chair to glance around at all the ruckus, though the difference for the guildmaster was that he was not alone on his stool. The pale dragon who had been snoozing around his shoulders awoke with a start at Beatrix’s demands, trilling unhappily. Ronin, at least, found it hilarious. ”You got it,” he said, rescuing the rest of the Rathskeller.
Rising to his feet, he approached the table Beatrix was stood upon, humming approval at the number of reeds she had collected. ”These should work great!” he announced, like he knew what he was doing.
Like the rest of the patrons, Ronin swivelled on his chair to glance around at all the ruckus, though the difference for the guildmaster was that he was not alone on his stool. The pale dragon who had been snoozing around his shoulders awoke with a start at Beatrix’s demands, trilling unhappily. Ronin, at least, found it hilarious. ”You got it,” he said, rescuing the rest of the Rathskeller.
Rising to his feet, he approached the table Beatrix was stood upon, humming approval at the number of reeds she had collected. ”These should work great!” he announced, like he knew what he was doing.
