-Written In Red Fine Print-

To whomever this may concern, I trent Kazz'riel, resign from fort cleaven. I came here in search of my future, and cleaven will not bring me that. I have already spent most of my time in ranzington as it is, and dont participate in any battles with axfell or in an efforts to cleaven I've never attacked an axfell myself , nor have I the interest... Deem me a quitter, traitor or whatever my reasons are simple. I will give my key and horn to whomever is responsible for collecting it, To make it bold, cleaven is not for me.



-signed in red ink-

-Trent-

As the lumbering half-troll that is Frederick Umberland, passes, he stops and stares blankly at the red-inked notice. After a few moments of vacant staring, he rips the notice out and charges into the barracks, where he shouts incoherently and waves the paper under Elriel's nose.

After a while, he calms and manages to explain in half-mime and half-mangled common that the paper is bleeding and needs medical attention.

He refuses to leave until Elriel changes the colour of the ink, to brown - with her own quill. At which point he places it back up in its rightful place, huffs out his chest and grins proudly at everyone he sees.

A small, petite-chainmailed figure eloquently strolls past Frederick Umberland as the git charges into the barracks.

Her gaze crosses over and passes beyond where the note had been, moments before.

She continues on her way out.