Nigan

Nigan stepped into the glade. He had changed into a rich-looking forest green, single-breasted vest, with blackened brass buttons over a dark green silk shirt with dark brown leather cuffs. His wide, brown belt was fastened over the long vest. He had on brown leggings with tall leather boots, and wore a triangular brown leather cap.
“Nigan!”
Nigan looked at him. “Sir?”
“I told you to stop looking like a target.”
Nigan looked down, confused. “This works as well as what you have on, sir.”
“You look like a urded noble out on a fox hunt.”
Nigan puffed up and smiled. “Thank you, sir. Glad you like it.”
Risy had come out of the woods behind him and was trying to not laugh.
“Risy, tell your partner to dress better.”
Nigan looked down and held his arms out, turning around slowly. “Better! I’ll have you know, this is a most excellent outfit, and it cost over thirty pence!”
Risy shrugged. “I can’t get him to dress normally, since he started impersonating Lebuin.”
Nigan looked at him. “Just because we are tromping through the forest, doesn’t mean we have to dress like beggars.”
A number of Daggers looked over at the conversation. A few of them, and not just the women, frowned as if insulted. Elades felt his blood pressure rising. “Beggars? Are you saying we are dressed like beggars?”
Nigan looked around at the other Daggers, who were watching with various looks of amusement. “No, sir, you pull off that ‘rugged warrior’ look very well.”
A handful of Daggers started laughing.

Nigan is a strong young man about 22 years old. When reading his parts always have a wide smile and generally a slight laugh. He is by far a happy optimistic warrior. He is serious but sees no reason to not enjoy life. He needs to have an American accent.

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