"Pritchert"

February 22

Multack buries his face in his hands. Opening a crack between his middle and index fingers, looking at the small stack of papers on his desk, he winces, and closes the gap. Groaning, he sits back, and grabs his flask, taking a quick drink from it. Looking back down at the paper, he sighs, and leans over it, grabbing a quill. Skipping over the majority of the thing, he eyes the phrases he needs to; those pertaining to the Adamant's legalization. Squinting at the writing, he leans forward.

Muttering quietly to himself, Multack groans. "Et cetera, Letter of Marque, obtained via signature and authorization of the King..."

Upon a knock at the door, he closes his eyes tightly, leaning against the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger in frustration. He sits back, sets the quill on the desk, and coughs quietly to himself. "Come-"

Cut off by a wooden clatter, he leaps from the seat, grabbing his rapier from the wall. Looking around the dimly lit room quietly, he raises a brow at the odd sound of shuffling among the patter of the rain. Glancing out the knocked-down door, he looks back at the room again, narrowing his eyes, and walking into the darkness.

Floor creaking silently, Multack makes a fist of his left hand, ready to clench and cast a spell if needed. Quietly looking around, Multack blinks, and steps into a corner. Reaching into his vest pocket soundlessly, he pulls a small handful of greenish seeds from it. Waiting several moments, he 'sows' it out in front of him. Upon hearing a girlish squeal, he frowns, and snaps his fingers, a violet flame, accented with bluish green sparks, lights the chandelier overhead.

Staring at the girl falling back over the table clumsily in the multicolored light, Multack winces as she crumples to the ground defenselessly, rubbing at her eyes. After a moment, she sits up, staring furiously at Multack. "Dang, man!"

Lifting his right eyebrow, Multack sheaths his rapier. "Morrowgrain. Stings, doesn't it?" The girl stands, and scoffs, brushing herself off. Looking back up sourly, she snaps, "Oh no, it felt like I fell into frickin' sunshine and rainbow land."

Multack rolls his eyes. "What are you doing in here? I could've called the Guard on you and you'd be dead by now for breaking in to Stormwind Keep." The girl composes herself, and speaks as if to an unknowing child. "Well, Sir Multack Mc-I'm-so-amazing-pants, you wouldn't call the Guard, would you?" She smiles.

Scowling slightly, Multack shrugs. "No, I wouldn't have. But that doesn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"

Eyeing him glumly, she rolls his eyes and 'tsk-tsk's. "Looking for you, silly little..." Wincing and examining Multack, she pauses, "...thing."

Multack takes a step forward, annoyed. "And why, are you looking for me?"

She steps forward, folding her hands behind her back smartly. "Carmine Pritchert, reporting for duty with the Crimson Blade."

Blinking, Multack steps back in confusion. "Carmine?"

Smiling, somewhat sarcastically, Carmine shrugs. "I'm alive, cuz." ((As in 'cousin'.)) She frowns looking over him, pursing her lips, and setting her hands on her hips. "We need to work on your wardrobe, though."

In his confusion, Multack stares at Carmine, eye twitching.

Aw hell, he thinks.

((Finally someone else who thinks Mult looks like a tool)

((Prit thinks everyone's a tool.))

Amather wrote:((Finally someone else who thinks Mult looks like a tool)

((I think he looks like a tool)).

((Google pays me $129 an hour))