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These are the days you will remember: An adage among humans, said to be especially true for those of Harvengure's age. In the realm and mind of what was Harvengure however, the saying was far from the truth.
Indeed, he would remember this day--for a time. However, he was here to make well of small victories won and make light of slow progression made. Beyond that and his goals, he'd no more remember this day then care to remember it or those who would not serve to progress his plans.
As he sang, as he dance...as he made his celebration on a table; this to him was not to strange. Vagarans had done it for countless ages and in this land it was not as if it was not done, for they had their bards and warriorpoets as well. It seemed however there was one with the mind to rain on his metaphorical parade.
Looking down, Harvengure would be met with the sight of a rather somber looking woman who'd have, within the mere moment it took for Harvengure to turn and set eyes upon her, had her attention robbed away by one Harvengure would recognize as protectorate. That is of course, were he wearing any of the appropriate garb.
Regardless of whether the man was or was not dressed as the protectorate he was, this still was something that would trigger a sense of precaution in the Vagaran's brain, made only worse by the lingering sense of familiarity with the woman. He did not recall how, but somehow, he knew her. Or at least, knew of her.
For logics perhaps only known to Vagaran and even they themselves can not explain, this somehow struck the young man as some dark omen. For him to throw off the usually somber and antisocial nature which made him a middler in Vagaran culture, only to have his celebration not only interrupted but to be done so by a distracted and unhappy woman who had taken him by the ankle? This indeed seemed to speak tell Harvengure that either his progress would stop here for some time or not long from now, Harvengure would find himself suddenly trapped or restrained somehow, when he least expected.
With both these being situations that Harvengure would hope to avoid, he'd slink off the table and silently make his way to the bar to seek knowledge knowledge of the barkeep or any other nameless local who struck him as a worthy source to set his inquries on. Who were these two? More so, who was she that he would know her?
Though not known as a Seer among his people, Harvengure, like most Vagaran, was not entirely without the gift on some level and he had hoped that knowing who these two were would be able to either dissolve the omen or further explain it so that he may be prepared for what lay ahead.
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