Nebarra

try and get to 1500 eventually! Preferably before age

Well maybe i’m the faggot, America
I’m not a part of a MAGA agenda
Now everybody, do the propaganda
And sing along to the age of paranoia

Welcome to a new kind of tension
All across the alien nation
Where everything isn't meant to be okay
In television dreams of tomorrow
We're not the ones who're meant to follow
For that's enough to argue

Don't wanna be an American idiot
One nation controlled by the media
Information age of hysteria
It's calling out to idiot America

In the harsh winds of the wastelands, you see two young males- what appears to be a mage and a guard- traveling with a steady magic ward surrounding them; sparking and fading with the rhythm of the casters voice. The mage, a small striped piebald, seems to be passing the day with jokes and banter while his parter, though listening somewhat, seems to be off in his own mind; armor shining in the hot sun glaring into the eyes of passerby's. The mage sees you and stops- the sudden halt of the ward alerting his ferus guard- and gives a welcoming smile.
After a quick introduction, the mage Lucien and his guard Nebarra sit to offer some bread and rum, welcoming you to stay and chat for a while.