Lachlan stands tall as the breeze of the bustling city's winds rains down upon him. He sees a market at a distance and walks into it. As he does so, a well-dressed gentleman approaches him and goes on with his babbling. Upon finding himself in front of such an individual, his instinct would be to look to his sides to see if there was anybody trying to rob from him. Taking note of the fact there were none, he goes on to reply in his thick accent. This meant he'd instantly place that dressed guy inside the 'honorless' box. "None o' yer business. Weel, ah shall let it be kent that ah'ament interested in anythin' ye hae tae sell, nor in antics lik' thae. Ah wull pray fur ye th' nicht, sae that yer soul kin be saved." Lachlan had already moved on before the man could even reply. Whether or not he did, he didn't know. {Cities ur sae stowed oot o' honorless scum, so much ah mist tread aroond wi' care.} With that, his journey kicked off.
![](http://cdn.lordofthecraft.net/monthly_2021_11/lachlan.jpg.4c7f0513f7160bf236f78ae4e3931bfe.jpg)
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