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Post by Minister Cillian O'Donnel on Dec 5, 2014 21:55:33 GMT -6
The Minister took a seat in the seedy tavern, his head hung under his brown cloak's hood and his steely blue eyes darting from seat to seat. There were all manner of criminal folk here, whether they were simple tradesmen with silver tongues and a lust for gold, or muscular gents whose very glares could rip ones head right off of their body.
But no one would touch a poor, frail old man, would they?
Not while he held a bag of gold coins. Well, perhaps, if they were ready to face his constant speech and his cold glare.
No, he had other business to attend to than being robbed by the commonfolk. And that job involved the commonfolk.
How funny these things played out the ways that they did.
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