So new to this place. [He says this almost as if he's thinking out loud.] But you wouldn't be wrong: I've been mentally bracing for that boy scout to find his way here. [The contempt for Chris is palpable but contained.]
Ahhh, so you've arrived from a point after my timeline, for lack of a better term for it? I arrived in this world's predecessor as well as this place well before my ...unfortunate demise. It's hard to explain, but I've had a peek at my fate - several potential ones, in fact, but that's better discussed face to face.
On that note, I'll see you this evening. Farewell, till then. [The call may cut out. -------- [The bar has a rough-genteel look to it, something like a hunting lodge on some British lord's property: a fire on the hearth, heavy rustic wood furniture and smoke-darkened prints in frames on the walls, depicting fantasical hunts: Hunters riding strange horses, running down strange Beasts, like things out of a fever dream or a weird fantasy - or something straight out of their shared world of origin. The clientele consists of Hunters and a few tough but still attractive Night Walkers, even a few more rough and ready Arcane Scholars, including a lean, dark-haired woman of hard to determine age wearing thick glasses and writing in a black leather covered journal, and a grizzled old Hunter sitting by the street door, the place presided over by a tall, husky female barkeep who looks like she can hold her own with any number of rowdy Hunters.]
[The grizzled Hunter might sit up a little straighter, his gloved hand going to the crossbow at his side, as the street door opens and a long shadow falls across the flagstone floor.]
((Hrrgh, I thought I'd replied to this one >>.<<))
So new to this place. [He says this almost as if he's thinking out loud.] But you wouldn't be wrong: I've been mentally bracing for that boy scout to find his way here. [The contempt for Chris is palpable but contained.]
Ahhh, so you've arrived from a point after my timeline, for lack of a better term for it? I arrived in this world's predecessor as well as this place well before my ...unfortunate demise. It's hard to explain, but I've had a peek at my fate - several potential ones, in fact, but that's better discussed face to face.
On that note, I'll see you this evening. Farewell, till then. [The call may cut out.
--------
[The bar has a rough-genteel look to it, something like a hunting lodge on some British lord's property: a fire on the hearth, heavy rustic wood furniture and smoke-darkened prints in frames on the walls, depicting fantasical hunts: Hunters riding strange horses, running down strange Beasts, like things out of a fever dream or a weird fantasy - or something straight out of their shared world of origin. The clientele consists of Hunters and a few tough but still attractive Night Walkers, even a few more rough and ready Arcane Scholars, including a lean, dark-haired woman of hard to determine age wearing thick glasses and writing in a black leather covered journal, and a grizzled old Hunter sitting by the street door, the place presided over by a tall, husky female barkeep who looks like she can hold her own with any number of rowdy Hunters.]
[The grizzled Hunter might sit up a little straighter, his gloved hand going to the crossbow at his side, as the street door opens and a long shadow falls across the flagstone floor.]