<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">Edmund Sullen  (Level 1 Spookamancer) <br/>LIV 1  BSH  1  SNK 1  LIK 1  WHT 1  RED 1  BLU 1  GRN 1  BLK 3  XP 1<br/>Healthy </span></span><br/><hr/><br/><br/>Edmund’s eyes narrowed as the man talked to him. He could feel the rage building within him, threatening to boil over in to an all out eruption. Edmund bit his lower lip, something he did to stifle such rage. It wouldn’t do to make a scene, and draw attention to himself, but he needed to do something…people should be punished for ruining the poetry of great artists such as himself.  It had taken several moments for Edmund to finally speak, but when he did, he clasped the man on the shoulder, his eyes glaring with a butterscotch sort of hue. <br/><br/>“Then I shall have to take something greater than coin.”  He then leaned in, so that only the intended would hear him before whispering “Furnulum pani nolo.” <br/><br/>Turning to walk away, making sure that his charcoal colored jacket fluttered as he spun around. If there is one thing all spookamancers should know, it is to make everything look dramatic. Edmund did not have time for a serious curse, so he had to make do with one of the simpler pranks her picked up at Spookamancy Academy. When recited properly, It would make everything taste rotten for several days before dissipating. Still, commoners didn’t know that, and Edmund knew the poor old sap would be quivering in fear after Edmund’s tactful implication that he took the man’s soul. Edmund smiled devilishly as he made his way to the bar’s exit. In his head, he could hear his own malicious laughter for the man’s upcoming misfortune. This tavern-going business was fantastic. Edmund felt better already, and he hadn’t even had a drink.<br/></div>