Skid was sitting there, for what seemed like a really really really long, indeterminate amount of time in a public space, which happened to be the middle of the Marketplace, at a table he may or may not have stolen from a nearby establishment.
Four chairs and a stout, round wooden table in the middle of the Marketplace. People knew what he looked like (sort of) well enough, and so there he waited.
There was a mailbox, some paper, some writing utensils made out of something horrible, and plenty of ink. And maybe a ballpoint pen or two. You know, for people that were incapable of forming words in his presence, either from awe or rage or idolatry.
Of course, this wasn't any sort of formal event, but it was indeed Skid lounging at a table, maybe with his feet up, in the middle of a public area.
((If your character or made up person or entity or whoever wants to leave Skid a question in a message or in person, have them pull up a chair! I figured this might let people get hold of him more easily!))
Four chairs and a stout, round wooden table in the middle of the Marketplace. People knew what he looked like (sort of) well enough, and so there he waited.
There was a mailbox, some paper, some writing utensils made out of something horrible, and plenty of ink. And maybe a ballpoint pen or two. You know, for people that were incapable of forming words in his presence, either from awe or rage or idolatry.
Of course, this wasn't any sort of formal event, but it was indeed Skid lounging at a table, maybe with his feet up, in the middle of a public area.
((If your character or made up person or entity or whoever wants to leave Skid a question in a message or in person, have them pull up a chair! I figured this might let people get hold of him more easily!))