JesterTagz
The Trickster
Kirian looked around the factory district, becoming stiffer and more tense with each step. The tiefling was holding on to his spear as tightly as possible, using it as a walking cane of sorts. It made a sharp click every few seconds but the noise was lost in the scuffling of feet, shouts, clangs and laughter which went on all around them. Why was the ex slave so upset over where they were going? People. If the bar had been overwhelming, this was practically hell. He hated how they had to press up against strangers to carve a path through the crowd, the sounds which built up over each other into a maddening cacophony. "Where are we going?" he asked at last, pulling the two men into a dirty alley so they could hear each other talk.