[IRP] Vanguard Rising

[Alusq]

A growling sigh escaped Nichol. "'Lord' Pascal. Exactly the kind of person..." He let himself trail off into another swig of ale as he realised that it might not be the best idea to let himself finish that particular sentence: he had originally participated in selling out his homeland to the Empire with the empty promise that the people would no longer suffer under the whims of corrupt noblemen. Pascal was exactly the kind of person who wasn't supposed to have any power in the new order... but, of course, he did. That would teach Nichol to blindly trust anyone who called themselves an "Empire" again.

"... needs to meet his maker." Nichol finally chose a suitable ending for his sentence. "Aye, I'm with you." He raised his cup in a salute, looking to Ambrose, then Tangle, then a third man who was ranting about the fish being mediocre. Hey, it's true. Perhaps Nichol cared about the state of things a little more than he gave himself credit for. Either way, this was an opportunity he couldn't turn down; his hometown was probably even worse off than this place, anyway. There was nothing for him back there. His face broke into a smirk as he remembered the make of the armour that was hidden under his bed in the local inn. "As it happens, I've got some attire that might scare this fellow's guards into letting us into his keep... How often do you suppose this town gets visitors from Thria?"