The tall, stocky man exits the ship onto the waterfront of New Orleans,the jewel of the South. Piercing grey-blue eyes look around, trying to get a feel for the place. He has the feeling he will like it here. He is not certain where exactly to go. He has only a name. High_Soc. This is the contact information given by the extended family in the quickly receding past life he was forced to give up. It is not much but it will be enough.
Picking up and shouldering the nondescript bag at his side the man begins to walk down the waterfront for lodgings. He passes many people, many businesses, but does not stop, merely gazing around for the time being. However, he is on the lookout for pickpockets knowing in a place such as this they are an inevitability, and his hand never strays far from the blade at his side, though not conspicuously so, wondering what may come this day. |
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