Thread:WendigoLamet/@comment-34928186-20190724003816/@comment-36459171-20190729003238

As they grew nearer to the Night Alley, Devaxion’s clawed hand lingered on the hilt of his sword. The blade was roughly half his height and somewhat wide- there was nothing special about the blade, other than the fact that his father’s and his own initials were faintly carved into it. It was barely noticeable at first glance.

The Night Alley had him on edge, he wasn’t willing to lose another scale for the fortune of any of these criminals. Being quite tall and muscular though, he was much easier to spot than in the crowd of Bluefield, earning him weary looks from the lowly Alley folks. Narrowing his gaze, he couldn’t seem to find any orcs.