1. first things first (multiple locations) [ There's something almost comical about the sight of a tall, lanky and almost unkempt man in the soft silk robes that everyone will recognise as belonging to someone newly arrived. The crow's feet around his eyes and worn, tanned skin that speak of a life lived out in the sun and rain and --not to speak of the dark hair streaked with white-- are such a contrast to the luxurious fabric, that it makes the self-rolled cigarette in the corner of his mouth and missing index and middle fingers on his right hand almost unnoticable.
Roland looks up when someone passes nearby, whether it's the dormitory he's been assigned to, the library, or one of the many balconies overlooking the town. His gaze is intense, he's too suspicious of everything still to let his guard down around anyone, but after a moment he exhales a thin stream of smoke and gives a perfunctory nod. ]
Hile, stranger. You know where a man might find himself some decent clothes around here?
2. winner winner chicken dinner (dining hall) [ Apologies to whoever is behind the tall man in the queue making his way around the table. He's stopped dead, staring open-mouthed at what looks like a completely normal dish of meat and assorted vegetables set inamongst the others on the table.
Maybe hassle him a little to get him to move on? He seems fixated on it and he's blocking access to the bacon. ]
3. it's the hard-knock life for you (dungeon) [ The smell of dirt and unwashed bodies is the worst thing that hits Roland as he descends into the dungeons. Prepared for wails of despair and the metal taste of blood in the air, it's almost pleasant.
It makes him wonder what Thorne and Ambrose really plan to do with all these 'accidents'. There's nothing to be gained in keeping them all alive if there isn't some purpose they can serve. He files the thought away.
Roland wanders the cells, lit cigarette in the corner of his mouth, making sure to pass by each cell he can find and see who exactly it is that Thorne didn't want but have decided to keep. He's unashamed about staring wordlessly in at the prisoners like they're caged entertainment, and for the most part he won't engage with anyone who looks like they'd rather be left alone. But he'll respond to anyone who talks to him, and for anyone who looks engaged-- ]
Doesn't seem so bad down here.
[ His tone is deadpan. Is he mocking you? Is it a joke? It's hard to tell. ]
[ ooc: I'm here for wildcards if there's another kind of interaction you're interested in! Hit me up at sprakles! ]
Roland Deschain | The Dark Tower | Death
[ There's something almost comical about the sight of a tall, lanky and almost unkempt man in the soft silk robes that everyone will recognise as belonging to someone newly arrived. The crow's feet around his eyes and worn, tanned skin that speak of a life lived out in the sun and rain and --not to speak of the dark hair streaked with white-- are such a contrast to the luxurious fabric, that it makes the self-rolled cigarette in the corner of his mouth and missing index and middle fingers on his right hand almost unnoticable.
Roland looks up when someone passes nearby, whether it's the dormitory he's been assigned to, the library, or one of the many balconies overlooking the town. His gaze is intense, he's too suspicious of everything still to let his guard down around anyone, but after a moment he exhales a thin stream of smoke and gives a perfunctory nod. ]
Hile, stranger. You know where a man might find himself some decent clothes around here?
2. winner winner chicken dinner (dining hall)
[ Apologies to whoever is behind the tall man in the queue making his way around the table. He's stopped dead, staring open-mouthed at what looks like a completely normal dish of meat and assorted vegetables set inamongst the others on the table.
Maybe hassle him a little to get him to move on? He seems fixated on it and he's blocking access to the bacon. ]
3. it's the hard-knock life for you (dungeon)
[ The smell of dirt and unwashed bodies is the worst thing that hits Roland as he descends into the dungeons. Prepared for wails of despair and the metal taste of blood in the air, it's almost pleasant.
It makes him wonder what Thorne and Ambrose really plan to do with all these 'accidents'. There's nothing to be gained in keeping them all alive if there isn't some purpose they can serve. He files the thought away.
Roland wanders the cells, lit cigarette in the corner of his mouth, making sure to pass by each cell he can find and see who exactly it is that Thorne didn't want but have decided to keep. He's unashamed about staring wordlessly in at the prisoners like they're caged entertainment, and for the most part he won't engage with anyone who looks like they'd rather be left alone. But he'll respond to anyone who talks to him, and for anyone who looks engaged-- ]
Doesn't seem so bad down here.
[ His tone is deadpan. Is he mocking you? Is it a joke? It's hard to tell. ]
[ ooc: I'm here for wildcards if there's another kind of interaction you're interested in! Hit me up at