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01-21-2017, 07:00 PM
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tarik
What doesn't kill me better run. For someone who didn't have any real interest in assisting Kisamoa, the viking-man had done a great deal of work towards helping him reach his goals. Though that was likely because the only way that he could lounge around the beach in peace was to help those nearby with their tasks so that they would go away. Today however, would not be like the rest though. Today, lady fortune was apparently making an appearance. Although Tarik and Ralik's ship had inadvertently crashed near one of Helovia's shores, the duo (nay, trio, counting Huldra), had not been too put off by this poor turn of events. After all, despite Tarik's long (and rather terrible memory), he thought that he recalled one of his kin taking a band of bachelors and heading south. Helovia was a likely place for Ulrik to have found, and ever since Tarik had landed here himself, he'd been on the look out for his distant cousin. Or nephew. Or ... well, whatever he was. They were related somehow, even if Tarik couldn't quite remember how. Immortality will do that to you. But they were men of the North, and it didn't matter how diluted their blood relation was. Blood was blood. So as his sea-blue stare found the filly and the colt, he immediately took interest. Both bore horns that, while potentially coincidental, were more aptly chalked up to some sort of indication of their lineage. "Eager to help the sea-man, I see." Tarik called to them, laughter sparkling like waves in his sea-blue stare. His words were punctuated by his thick northern accent, but sounded amicable enough. |
