Groups
Description
Minimos has grown into a dedicated mage of some stature. Bright brown eyes still survey the world from a pale boyish face. His dark hair is cropped close to his skull now where if one looked closely, they could see the runes tattooed there. His regal blue mage robes cover a thin body no used to manual work but rather serves only as a conduit for his fathers power.
History
Minimos is the son of the late Hazmond the mage. An assassin managed to kill off his mother and sister and leave his father mortally wounded to watch the horror. When they came for Minimos, Hazmonds spirit left his body, taking his considerable magical might with it and inhabited Minimos' body where he channelled through him to vanquish the attackers. Ever since he has kept an ever watchful eye over his son as he journeys through the land in search of ever more ways to help the world with his considerable powers.
Minimos glided in with the grace of an elf. He made his way to the bar and sat himself down next to the impressive demon that was now buying drinks and he was always in favor of free drinks. "Hello there Demon. What event this day calls for such merriment in liquid form?"
Minimos nearly choked on his drink from the blow to his back. As he cleaned the ale off his robes he corrected her. "I'm no elf."
Minimos blushes deeply in embarrassment. obviously he wasn't paying enough attention. To spare himself further he picks up his drink and takes it across the bar to a booth by himself
a small child opens the door and peeks his head inside. He is covered with a heavy red robe that's far too large for him. The hood, drooping over his eyes needed to be lifted away by a hand still concealed in a sleeve. Peering around the bar he looked for danger carefully before quietly shuffling into the establishment and up to the bar.
upon reaching a stool, he finds it to be as tall as he is. bracing two hands on the top he attempts to hop a little to climb atop it, but fails to achieve the necessarily leverage. Again he tries to jump, and again, making no progress to get into his seat. He backs away frustrated a moment. Huffing angrily at the inanimate object. With one short run he leaps into the air, arms outstretched. He catches the opposite end of the stool this time and clings desperately as his feet flail below him, just off the floor. His face strains as he tries to lift himself up but quite soon his grip gives way, sending him tumbling backwards and bumping his head. Tired, frustrated and defeated. Minimos curls up and starts to cry.
Minimos eventually picks himself up and still sniffling, departs the bar