Ectoglop, I love it!
I was so anxious to keep Darian away from Kvatch and Jerric, I completely forgot about Abiene! A hookup with Dashing Darian might change things in Jerric’s story before they even get started! I'd better lock the MG door and drop McB’s Shroud spell over it, just in case.
Darian held the dusty breastplate against his chest. Brusef Amelion must have been an extraordinarily well-proportioned man, he mused. His armor would almost fit
me.
Tomb robbing was not on Darian’s list of noble activities, but damsels in distress had a way of changing the rules. Besides, he had entered with the resident family’s permission. At least the living representatives. Some of the dead had taken exception to his presence and risen from their slumber. Thanks to Darian they were all at rest again, though now in considerably smaller pieces.
Another traipse across the province yielded more cross words from Burz and not quite enough gold to sweeten them. Darian decided that Swordsman of the Fighters Guild was a rank he could live with, at least for awhile.
Where to go next? A person had to be somewhere, and Darian had the luxury of choosing.
Bruma, he decided. Warm fires, cold mead, and bards’ tales.
And Nords. Oh, well, he thought. No place is perfect.