Re: Chapter 9: The Northern Trail
"Those do look like nice gloves, I'm not sure they are a good fit for halfling or gnome hands, or cats....paws. Let me see how they fit the hands of an elf" and he picks up the gloves and puts them on.
"ooooo, nice."
Celador leaves with Lazaret to examine the door on the south side of the main room.
"So Laz, what will the fine people of Westbank think when we tell them the truth of their constable? Maybe I could apply for the job as new town constable. My military training does offer some attributes that people might find quite attractive in an officer of the law," the elf raises his gloved hand to stroke his chin as he ponders a life in Westbank...settle down, find a wife, a good elven woman would be hard to find, maybe Mattis would do nicely, she is a good cook, easy enough on the eyes, looks to be firm in the places where it is good to be firm and soft enough in the soft places, I wonder if she smells of sage and rosemary all the time or only after cooking, she'll probably want to have kids, and we won't stop at one or two, maybe after four or five or six we'll realize that more kids wasn't the solution and that she will always resent my elven heritage and I will have contempt for being forced to remain in this town and feel forced to accept a station in life that is below me, and it will all end horribly with a meat cleaver...
"yes, you're right Laz. It's probably not the right gig for me right now. We should start a band of adventurers!" he says as he snaps out of his momentary day dream.