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[Arakad]

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Tacked up at the banks and on the boards of taverns*

[Arakad]

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"Ouch damnit!" The masked man roared out, taking a gloved hand to rub the spot where the tailor had stuck him. "Do you have to aim for my soft areas ... stab me again and you're gonna find the rest of those pin's ramed where the sun don't shine."

Arakad had been in the tailors of Nujhelm since before dawn, doing the pre-wedding arrangments; make sure the flowers are delivered, check with Maggie about the catering, the candles are bought, Poets garden is preped for the reception.. and the last - the suit. He hated suits.

"Sir you really need to remove the gloves - I can't get the sleeve cuffs around the gloves!" the Tailor began tugging at the fingertips, before he found hmself with a butcher knife from the other hand pressed against adams apple. The silver shades that concealed the mans already hooded eyes tiped determined to the artisan. "Yes ... yes well we can shorten the length to fit, of course my Lord."

Sliding the knife back up into the concealment of his glove sheath, Arakad simply gave a nod - more of annoyance. "I don't receremend ye touch the mask either mate - the knife stop next time."

Twelve hours to go, time is going quickly and yet not fast enough for the old Meer. And with the recent news his betrothed was already with his child, it was enough to keep a smile on his hidden face. His entire demeanor was glowing - nearly as much as the spider silk shirt and cloak, the nightmare hide pants and doublet darkened his attire, and the cu sidhe fur boots gave the elegance he required.

Tonight his soul will be free and his life in the hands of the petite blacksmith that stole his heart.