Ralond paces about, clad in his usual black silk suit, and tilts his head as he inspects the King. He strokes at his goatee in thought and asks, in very well versed Thalassian, "You seem rather intriguing, my friend. Might I inquire upon the possibility of studying you at length?"
The man stood out in the crowd, looking refined in his suit while being surrounded by tattered and broken Ratz. The Rat King stared at the man who stood in the center of the empty fighting ring. “Study me? What am I? A live specimen of what madness is? Why would you want to study me? There are plenty of madmen in this world. What the fuck do you want from me?”
He walked down the stairs, walking toward the man who dared to ask. “What would you get out of this? Or better yet, what would I?” He looked him over a few moments. “You’re not from Silvermoon, are you?”
@ralondstafford
