It’s subtle enough that someone who wasn’t looking carefully could easily miss it, but you spot it easily: the silvery undertones to his eyes and the faint iridescent sheen of his hair mark the master-at-arms as an aasimar, not a human.
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He looks around the room. “Alright, who’s getting sorted first? And who here’s some kind of squishy spellcaster that ought to be talking to the quartermaster instead?”
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(I see)
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Wanderer raises his hand to the squishy statement.
The squishy spellcaster extraordinaire remains silent. It’s clear to anyone who has known her, or even witnessed her casting a spell, or… anyone who can read her intentions that she’s not going to speak up. She’s planning on being placed with the martials.
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“Your selection is quite extensive,” Drakor said, studying the weapons. “I might be a while.”
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He jerks a thumb in the direction of the opposite door. “Kerra’s just through there. Tell her His Lordship sent you, he’ll’ve dropped in on her to explain.”
“Of course. We’ve got some real beauties here,” he says, tapping the hilt of a glimmering halberd affectionately. “Let me know if you want to give any of them a try, test their weight out.”
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He does so.
Canary pretends to be interested in the weapons.
…Which she sort of is. As in a ‘wow there’s so many cool looking objects way’, not a ‘I wanna swing this around way’
Drakor darted over. Those of you who had traveled with him recognized this as being slightly faster than his running speed when pursuing Kamilla.
“Might I try this?” he asked, pointing at a falchion.
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The quartermaster, Kerra, is a middle-aged human woman with a wooden prosthetic in place of the lower half of her left leg. “Ah, you must be one of the new ones! What sort of things are you looking to do? Do you have any training in using wands or reading scrolls?”
“Of course! Go right ahead.”
The falchion is very well-crafted, its blade becoming slightly thinner as it approaches the tip to ensure it remains agile. There’s an intentional slight asymmetry to the grip, making it easy to tell how the edge is aligned.
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“I…”
This is like
Really weird for him
“I am not especially skilled with the use of wands and scrolls, though I do have divine spells. I have been trained with the expectation that I’ll excel at calling forth outsiders…eventually. It’s difficult to get them to stick around.”
He seems kind of bummed about the outsiders thing.
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Drakor hefted it. “Great balance. You know, my uncle said my dad used to have one of these, but-”
He broke off as he spotted something else from the corner of his eye. Swiftly (and gently) setting down the blade, he dashed over to another weapon. “Canary!” he said loudly, gesturing wildly for her to come closer.
“Nyeh?” Canary hustles to Drakor.
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“Take a look at this!” He pointed at a small blade, with an odd grip. “It’s a punching dagger!”
“Isn’t it cool?” he asked excitedly. “It’s like a regular dagger, except you hold it like this-” he demonstrated, molding his hand around the grip with the blade protruding between his fingers. “-and you punch people with it!”
Thankfully, he did not demonstrate that part.
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“It’s neat.” Canary is visibly less excited about the punching dagger than Drakor. Which isn’t much of a statement of her being bored, but rather, a statement of Drakor’s enthusiasm.
{I’m… glad he’s obtained catharsis.}
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