Dec 16, 2009 10:39
Ugh.
[The communicator is snatched up and flickered on as Duibhín carefully sits up. He looks disheveled, his robe bunched towards his knees and his hair mussed and windblown. Somewhere, off to the side is a whinny that sounds suspiciously like laughter. Green eyes glare in that direction before he turns his attention towards the communicator.]
Alright. That's it! I have had it with this place! I thought I could tolerate this backwater rendition of Elwynn-minus-the-bloodthirsty-soldiers until I was sent home but no. NO. Not now.
[With what looks like some difficulty, Duib starts to scoot forward, wincing at the grass and grime sticking to his once-ornate robe. He starts to rise, grunting from the effort, and almost immediately dropping back down to a kneel, keeping the weight off of his right foot entirely.]
Ah! My ankle!
[In anger, he tosses the communicator to the side, a long string of Thalassian obscenities heard following. It's obvious he tries several times to rise before giving up, just sighing loudly (and dramatically)]
not in elwynn forest anymore,
when you can't even trust a "mount",
where's my guild when i need them,
i hate this place,
mage (damsel) in distress,
not one of my mounts,
i wanna to go home