as written by duramon
A guided tour would have been interesting, but it seemed more like things were winding down to people passing out in the accommodations, or at least dropping off their heavy loads. Pfft, living. Honestly Noche often forgot she was dead, but that didn't stop her from sighing inwardly at their fatigue. Was she ever out of breath? What kind of gross malfunction would that feel like?
The undead shifted the load on her shoulder and glanced behind the woman in front of her to the ensemble of heroes and dramatic landscapes. She knew it would be prudent to drop her burden and feign fatigue for the time being, but she was a mere few feet away from the kind of thing a bard would spasm over. Resistance was difficult, but she managed a stoic grunt and to seal her lips shut, glancing behind herself at the young mage and his....surprisingly dead maid.
At least her curiosity would be sated whichever came first, and both provided interesting opportunities. It wasn't often she met anyone quite so preserved and sated as her, and a step beyond that, the maid bordered on regulated life. It might be smart to put a talk with her on the list of things to do, as much as she refused to admit it, Noche didn't have a solid hang of this whole, being dead, thing. It'd been a solid chunk of years, but surprisingly the opportunity to research and explore undeath didn't come often in the regular life of an illegal fighter with no medical experience. Go figure.
So in the end grunt did Noche, grunt and confuse herself, a staple of good orcish behaviour.
A guided tour would have been interesting, but it seemed more like things were winding down to people passing out in the accommodations, or at least dropping off their heavy loads. Pfft, living. Honestly Noche often forgot she was dead, but that didn't stop her from sighing inwardly at their fatigue. Was she ever out of breath? What kind of gross malfunction would that feel like?
The undead shifted the load on her shoulder and glanced behind the woman in front of her to the ensemble of heroes and dramatic landscapes. She knew it would be prudent to drop her burden and feign fatigue for the time being, but she was a mere few feet away from the kind of thing a bard would spasm over. Resistance was difficult, but she managed a stoic grunt and to seal her lips shut, glancing behind herself at the young mage and his....surprisingly dead maid.
At least her curiosity would be sated whichever came first, and both provided interesting opportunities. It wasn't often she met anyone quite so preserved and sated as her, and a step beyond that, the maid bordered on regulated life. It might be smart to put a talk with her on the list of things to do, as much as she refused to admit it, Noche didn't have a solid hang of this whole, being dead, thing. It'd been a solid chunk of years, but surprisingly the opportunity to research and explore undeath didn't come often in the regular life of an illegal fighter with no medical experience. Go figure.
So in the end grunt did Noche, grunt and confuse herself, a staple of good orcish behaviour.