So.
Today was the day.
Tara and Longden's marriage.
Hmpf.
Jodiah Ayreg stood in his room, looking at himself in the mirror. He was never one to turn down an invitation anywhere. Perhaps there was some shred of honor left in him that demanded his presence when he was invited to a formal occasion. A tournament, perhaps, or a meeting of some kind.
In this case, the unholy matrimony of the annoying harpy, Tara, and the despised Count, Longden.
Jodiah Ayreg silently told himself he would have to behave.
A polished steel cuirass was probably the center piece of his wardrobe for the ceremony tonight. Borrowed, of course, it nevertheless had intriciate dragon engravings up either side of the breastplate. An exquisite black coat was worn beneath the cuirass, and featured silver scrolling embroidery up either sleeve to his shoulders. Braided silver loops curled beneath either arm, attached to shoulder boards that had more of the silver braiding trimming them.
One of the most shocking differences, though, was the death knight's hair.
A quick visit to the apothecary gifted him with a particular root that, when ground and added to water, turned a color of pitchy black. Working the substance into his hair, it took hold.
His thin lips twitched as he looked into the mirror. For the first time in years, Jodiah Ayreg's hair was its shining onyx color again. It very nearly took twenty years off how old he looked. It will, of course, come out the first time he washes his hair or, for instance, is rained upon.. but it was an interesting image, for the moment.
Shaving came next after the dye was put into his hair. A minor cut was suffered, but he made it through without slicing his own throat. That would have been most embarassing.
Folded-down cavalier boots were exchanged for formal leather riding boots, polished to a dull sheen. Tucked into those boots, though, were a right proper pair of trousers with silver-colored embroidery down the outside of his legs, disappearing beneath boot and coat tails on heir respective ends.
Drawing his onyx hair back into a tight tail, the death knight looked at himself one more time in the mirror.
He nodded, once, quite satisfied with himself. Leaving his sword and cloak there in his room, Jodiah Ayreg made his way down to make ready for his trip to the Great Hall.
Today was the day.
Tara and Longden's marriage.
Hmpf.
Jodiah Ayreg stood in his room, looking at himself in the mirror. He was never one to turn down an invitation anywhere. Perhaps there was some shred of honor left in him that demanded his presence when he was invited to a formal occasion. A tournament, perhaps, or a meeting of some kind.
In this case, the unholy matrimony of the annoying harpy, Tara, and the despised Count, Longden.
Jodiah Ayreg silently told himself he would have to behave.
A polished steel cuirass was probably the center piece of his wardrobe for the ceremony tonight. Borrowed, of course, it nevertheless had intriciate dragon engravings up either side of the breastplate. An exquisite black coat was worn beneath the cuirass, and featured silver scrolling embroidery up either sleeve to his shoulders. Braided silver loops curled beneath either arm, attached to shoulder boards that had more of the silver braiding trimming them.
One of the most shocking differences, though, was the death knight's hair.
A quick visit to the apothecary gifted him with a particular root that, when ground and added to water, turned a color of pitchy black. Working the substance into his hair, it took hold.
His thin lips twitched as he looked into the mirror. For the first time in years, Jodiah Ayreg's hair was its shining onyx color again. It very nearly took twenty years off how old he looked. It will, of course, come out the first time he washes his hair or, for instance, is rained upon.. but it was an interesting image, for the moment.
Shaving came next after the dye was put into his hair. A minor cut was suffered, but he made it through without slicing his own throat. That would have been most embarassing.
Folded-down cavalier boots were exchanged for formal leather riding boots, polished to a dull sheen. Tucked into those boots, though, were a right proper pair of trousers with silver-colored embroidery down the outside of his legs, disappearing beneath boot and coat tails on heir respective ends.
Drawing his onyx hair back into a tight tail, the death knight looked at himself one more time in the mirror.
He nodded, once, quite satisfied with himself. Leaving his sword and cloak there in his room, Jodiah Ayreg made his way down to make ready for his trip to the Great Hall.