Stepping out from the Wayfarer's Rest Tavern, Daviani stands, blinking, in the sun that shines down on Silvermoon. Closing his eyes, he savors the feel of the warm sun and gentle breeze on his pale skin for a moment before slowly opening his eyes again, and proceeds to walk across the Walk of Elders, towards the Silvermoon Registry building.
Although his heavy plate armour makes enough noise for the Silvermoon City Guardians, posted at Shepherd's Gate, to hear him, they appear not to notice. He ignores them in return. He is no longer one of them, and although his change in class has brought no hard feeling ether way, he is simply just another person to keep an eye on, and they merely guards.
He no longer wears their uniforms, nor is he allowed to wield their double-bladed weapons. The swords, shield, and armour he now has he ether earned, or has been crafted my a smith he now contacts.
It's good craftmanship, and he now prefers the work of this Tauren over any smith in Silvermoon. It's a good deal. Daviani mines ore to toughen his body, and skins his kills for leather, and sends them to this smith in exchange for the weapons and armour crafted from them. The last time he saw the Tauren though, it was not his skills as a smith that impressed him, but his skill as a warrior.
He recently returned to Silvermoon from Tol Barad, where he, and this Tauren, and other members of that Tauren's guild, stood amidst a bloodly battle...
Blinking, Daviani found himself back in Silvermoon, standing in the middle of the Walk of Elders. Smoothing the savage look off his face back to a look of aloofness, he drops his hands, that had been clutching the long red hair he has bound and hanging down from his left shoulder, and continues his walk into the Silvermoon Registry.
A Sin'dorian female turns to look at him as he enters and looks around, before turning to her in return.
"You keep track of guilds in your files." He says in his quiet voice. "I wish to contact the Grim..."
Daviani
Moderator: Officers