Quentin slid the cards across the table towards himself and tilted them up. He arranged them for a moment, then put the cards down. He spent a moment thinking, drumming his fingers on the table for a moment. He reached to the back of his belt, and slowly brought a sheathed dagger forward. It had...
I've got Quentin written as originating from a guild centered in Vel Anir. I would be very happy to have him be some form of envoy or otherwise assist in getting a more OOC official one going.
Had Quentin been doing his best to win, he may have been upset. Calling the Headsman foreshortened the playing, and often as not threw the game to whoever lady luck smiled on the fullest. He looked at his cards once more, and then the cards placed on the table thus far and he saw that he was not...
Quentin smirked at the Halflings words and pulled a coin from his belt and placed it in the pile. One side of it held the graven image of a Wyvern, and the other had a ring of draconic runes just inside the beveled edge, with a second ring set inside of that. The metal of the coin was black...
Quentin kept his face impassive, his eyes scanning those around him. He had finished his apple, eaten the core and all, keeping the seeds separate and tucking them into a small bag on a throng around his neck. He tucked it back beneath his shirt and pulled a small cloth from a pocket to begin...
Quentin did not answer the question. To him it was just a pretense, and he wanted to see what the masked man was getting at. He did, however, maintain attention to what the others answered with. It often proved a good insight to hear answers to such questions. The answers themselves told of a...
Quentin sat in one of the cushioned mahogany chairs, a glass of wine sitting at the low table between his chair and the chair to his left. In his hands he had a small pen knife and an apple, cutting slices off and eating them slowly as he watched the room fill.
He didn't normally work in...
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