Grim Views

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Cen,

There be enclosed here fifty gold pieces. I want you to hire some professional writer type person to edit the next report you give me, which will be for your Trial of Resolve.

Your Trial of Combat be complete. Proceed to your interviews.

- Attie

((Awh. Don't make Cen hire a translator! It's too much fun to read.))

Cen,

What I believe Atticus means is that the beauty and artistry of your mind deserves to be represented by an artist of words. He must really really appreciate the depth and precision of what you have to say.

~Kalless~

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((I actually had to use my asthma inhaler because this made me laugh so hard. If any of you disagree with this amazingness I will cut you.))

[[ Amazing. ]]

((This one definitely goes on the refrigerator.))

(( +1 ))

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Cen,

I think in all the history of the Grim, ain't no newcomer thought to report on their progress with pictures and poems. Not to say I'm particularly fond of the idea, or impressed by it, but it is novel. That's worth something. Whilst the art had much of my story, it illustrated little of the Mandate. I might think twice about accepting these reports, if I didn't see first-hand how quickly you grasped the wisdom of the Mandate. You learned some, during our interview. Syreena tells me you spoke to her as well, and she's got naught but good things to say about you. I see that you spoke to Khorvis, too.

The challenge demands that you interview two, and yet you have interviewed three of the Grimmest Grim that have ever served the Mandate. You have made a good impression on us all.

Well done.

If you care to report on your interview with Syreena, please do so. Otherwise, consider your second trial complete. Meet with me soon to discuss your third and final trial.

- Atticus Grace

((Dude. This is one of the most hilarious and interesting trials I have ever seen during my eight-year history with the guild. I'm very very pleased to have you in the guild.))

The faint light of the pipe's burning embers illuminated the poem penned by Cen. Khorvis took another long draw and exhaled the smoke of dried dreaming glory, whisps of Outlandish scents and secreted memory drifting up towards The Bear and beyond. Leaning back against a grassy hillock and watching over the Grim's old Halls, the orc took within him the chill night air and toyed with the parchment between calloused fingers. It was not until the small hours that a sneaking shadow crept passed the bulletin and returned the poem to the board.

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