Surely Cayden Cailean has to be a proper bawdy rugby song?
Hey, if it's easy to sing when hammered, it'd work.
Surely Cayden Cailean has to be a proper bawdy rugby song?
Or something like this, only with the nautical references removed.
Dang. Should I get my beatnik beret and black shirt? :D
<-- not a poet
Terrameille
Aasimar Wizard 1
NG Medium outsider (native)
Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +5
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Defense
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AC 11, touch 11, flat-footed 10 (+1 Dex)
hp 7 (1d6+1)
Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +4
Resist acid 5, cold 5, electricity 5
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee dagger +0 (1d4/19-20) and
. . quarterstaff +0 (1d6) and
. . unarmed strike +0 (1d3 nonlethal)
Special Attacks hand of the apprentice (6/day)
Aasimar Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +4)
. . 1/day—daylight
Wizard Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +6):
1st—[/i]
0 (at will)—[i]
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Statistics
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Str 10, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 17, Wis 15, Cha 12
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 11
Feats Improved Initiative, Scribe Scroll
Traits ease of faith, riftwarden orphan
Skills Diplomacy +8, Knowledge (arcana) +7, Knowledge (geography) +7, Knowledge (planes) +7, Perception +5, Spellcraft +7; Racial Modifiers +2 Diplomacy, +2 Perception
Languages Celestial, Common
SQ arcane bonds (arcane bond [familiar]), specialized schools (universalist)
Other Gear dagger, quarterstaff, 146 gp
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TRACKED RESOURCES
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Dagger - 0/1
Daylight (1/day) - 0/1
Hand of the Apprentice (6/day) (Su) - 0/6
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Special Abilities
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Arcane Familiar Nearby You gain the Alertness feat while your familiar is within arm's reach.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only).
Empathic Link with Familiar (Su) You have an empathic link with your Arcane Familiar.
Energy Resistance, Acid (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Acid attacks.
Energy Resistance, Cold (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Cold attacks.
Energy Resistance, Electricity (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Electricity attacks.
Hand of the Apprentice (6/day) (Su) Throw the melee weapon you are holding 6/day.
Share Spells with Familiar Can cast spells with a target of "You" on the familiar with a range of touch.
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Dang. Should I get my beatnik beret...
First poetry and now a hat!
Dang. Should I get my beatnik beret...First poetry and now a hat!
Hats are key. If you are wearing an awesome hat you are good for the day!
Whoof, look at all that poetry!
This is the Norv's submission (sorry it's a little on the late side)! His backstory isn't quite fully written out, but I figured I'd throw him in so that you could get a first look. He's Touched by Divinity, but since you're not (thank you!!) tying the trait to the mythic path, it's worth noting that he'd probably go Archmage for the path.
The clan understood that Lurc's intentions were good, but nonetheless felt that they had no choice but to exile him. Rather than sending him off into the world alone, though, they taught him some of their ancient martial arts techniques (which is where he gets his scroll-fighting from [[forgot to mention as well that the village has a prohibition against edged or metal weapons]]). Lurc has been wandering the world since, devoting himself to Irori and the careful, studied control of magic, which he now recognizes as a wild and inherently chaotic force, best carefully channeled into planned pathways that can be controlled. He's been fascinated by the Worldwound recently--it's a source of pure, untrammeled chaos, after all--and has headed to Kenabres to see what he can learn from the crusaders there about the nature of the Abyss and its interaction with the Material Plane.
Gotta dash, so hopefully that gives you a rough idea!
I haven't written 'proper' poetry since my last poetry class in college, ages ago.
But I do have a summoner and his eidolon who are based off a DC comics character (a man who can turn into/summon a demon), and the demon speaks only in rhyme, so... that's fun. :P
Ah, yes, Etrigan...
*fistbump* I'm always delighted when someone's heard of him!
Voren sits by, listening to the others recite their poetry. He watches each individual carefully. However, the tieflings seem to draw his attention. Every once in a while, his hand inches to his deep hood. However, he shakes his head and pulls his hood so that his head is even deeper. A scorpion can be seen skittering on him, out of one pocket to another, in and out of his hood. It seems to be eager for something to start.
Aurica flips a few coins to the obligatory bartender. "Round for the house," she calls. "Drink up-- aye, even you with horns and the like, I'm feeling gracious! You'll all as like be dead on your first sortie out Kenabres' walls, that's statistickal and all, so may as well enjoy the night before.
"By the way, if anyone needs armor or weapons: look down Forge Street at the sign of the Cracked Anvil. Malkus is the name. Best cold-iron work in Kenabres, and I'm not just saying that on account he's my father. Dwarf-forged, tried and true, don't leave Kenabres without it!"
Heads up--
Applications will close as soon as Edeldhur makes up his mind and finally posts his character. :P Afterwards, give me a few days to deliberate.
I will give feedback to people I've missed tomorrow. Busy day today. My game ran 2 hours overtime. And I nearly killed everyone! The tiefling bloodrager was sent from full hp to -11 in one round. Good start for WotR.
Good to hear! There are a lot of really interesting characters in here- I don't envy you for needing to make that decision. I wish everyone the best of luck. :)
Deep in a mug, a large Ulfen man raises one eyebrow at the red-haired dwarf at the bar. He downs the rest of his ale, the tankard seeming tiny in his meaty hand, and heads to the bar for a second drink, pausing to regard the short woman.
"That's a very generous gesture," he says, taking up his second mug of the evening, his voice a deep rumble coming from a mass of gold-and-silver beard, "and no doubt an effective method of gathering business. How's your father at shields?" He hefts an enormous round shield from his back, a wooden monstrosity with a dented boss and a chipped death-spiral painted on the face. "Mine's getting a bit old, much like myself, and could stand to be replaced."
Aurica offers the Ulfen a wink at his (correct) assessment of her business strategy. She's seated on a stool at the bar, but facing the rest of the room, her arms resting on the bar's length.
"Shields, plate, chain: if you can put it betwixt yourself and a demon's claws, Malkus makes it, and makes it well." She looks over the shield of which he speaks.
"That one's seen some leagues, eh? And a scrum or two, I don't miss my guess. Da might re-rivet that mess of planks for you for free, if you've got a good tale to go with any'a those dents and chips."
Heads up--
Applications will close as soon as Edeldhur makes up his mind and finally posts his character. :P Afterwards, give me a few days to deliberate.
I will give feedback to people I've missed tomorrow. Busy day today. My game ran 2 hours overtime. And I nearly killed everyone! The tiefling bloodrager was sent from full hp to -11 in one round. Good start for WotR.
Ouch... But I suppose it was to be expected. Wrath of the Righteous is supposed to be a bit more dangerous than your average adventure path, I think.
In other news, suspense is steadily accumulating, I do readily admit. Fingers crossed and all that! :-)
Yep. I'm still dipping in here hoping for an announcement :)
<Pokes Edeldhur>
Posting for Drakra Unterhugel. I avoid posting with application avatars so that they can be deleted if not selected.
Hearing the bearded dwarven woman talk with the tall Ulfen, the short red haired gnome decides to have some fun. He carefully maneuvers to give himself a quick way to exit the tavern if necessary, as has frequently had to do in the past.
Then with a few arcane words, he makes the wall of the booth he is sitting in, by the door, appear to be a little further from the wall, carefully concealing him behind the new false wall.
Then, the fun begins:
Wow, look a dwarven man and an Ulfen. Never seen so much beard. Good thing too, keeps these slobs from dropping crumbs on the table. . . . Oh, wait, thats not a dwarf man. Hard too tell the difference.
DM Alice - I plan on switching some of Drakra's gnome racial traits. I have pasted a few possibilities into the character sheet, but have not made any final decisions. This will not change the character to any great degree, just make him a little different from most of the gnomes.
Tentatively, the heavily cloaked figure approaches the bar, taking the tankard in his sleeve covered hand. As he moves, you swear you can hear the clopping of a horse. He looks to the dwarven woman and says, "T-thank you." It's hard to hear, but it is clear to you. His hood is deep. So deep that it's very hard to make out what he looks like. After a while, he says, "M-my n-n-name is V-Voren. What's yours?" You can hear a faint skittering. But you have a hard time figuring out where it's coming from.
He looks to the red haired gnome and says, "You shouldn't s-say things l-like that. I-it's not nice."
The gnome is hiding behind a Silent Image of a wall. Easier to mock people.
The ranger had entered the tavern and found it crowded with a colorful menagerie of patrons. His eyes instinctively went to the hard corners first then swept to the center of the room, then he performed a secondary sweep before relaxing his shoulders where he found he held most of his tension when preparing to strike or make a move.
She was not here. At least not plainly out in the open. His eye caught something. Movement. A scorpion crawled out from hiding then concealed itself once more on the person of a heavily hooded humanoid. Tracking the insects movement the rangers mind made other connections. The figure was not human he walked with a strange gate . . .the sound gave it away. It was a tiefling, Which doesn't make him automatically bad, Estrelle reminded himself. The demons raped the land and its people. Some of those unfortunates derived from those brutal and forced couplings are angels trapped in the bodies of demons . . Still that one deserves close watch. He still bears the mark of the great enemy and may secretly feel the compulsion to participate in their perverse proclivities.
Movement again. A human, an northerner by the look of his features and clothing recoiled from the tiefling as he tucked him arm closest to it against his body.
..........................................
"Whoa! Eh there friend. In case you don't know it, you've got a wicked looking beastie crawling on your arm there that looks like a crab crossed with a spider and a wasp!" The Ulfen said pointing at the scorpion crawling over the hooded figure next to him. "Is that some kind of demon spawned spider or something native to your native lands here!? If that's natural I can't wait to see what awaits me out in the wound. Makes me wish I would have stuck with ice trolls and winter wolves if even your bugs around here look like that!"
The metallic haired elf seated nearby turned with interest and studied the scorpion.
Hadogenes troglodytes is a species of scorpion from southern Orcanthcies. It is commonly known as the Flat Rock Scorpion and commonly sold on the exotic pet market in that land. It has the longest recorded body length of any naturally ocurring scorpion from that region. reaching up to 20 cm!"
The elf in his white robes casts a quick spell and inspects the scorpion anew.
"But, how interesting. Dear sir, what manner of advantage does your familiar afford you. It is quite unique?"
The Ulfen regards the hooded man and elf wizard with skepticism.
"That thing is a pet!?The only thing that I would make familiar with that thing is my boot heal if I found it in my tent. No offense to your pet mind you, it's just that I would much prefer a dog. It just looks scary I guess. Ah, don't mind me I am from out of the area and just trying to get the hang of things around here. Ha ha, I guess I may find it hard to make friends if I go around insulting peoples Had-oh-jens Troglidites. Where I am from Troglidites are something we try to exterminate, but ours are more like orcs."
(To Voren:)
Aurica takes a long pull from her own flagon of ale, then wipes away the froth with the back of her hand before answering the stuttering chap in the robe-and-hood. With the skittering noise.
"You know, friend, people who come into Kenabres hidin' their faces beg the question of what they're hiding. But I'm not Hulrun Shappok, eh? So your business and your face is your own secret, to me, but be aware not everyone in the city will share that view."
Another swig of ale. "But my name is Aurica Firehammer. Kenabres-born-and-bred, pleasure to meetcha."
(To Drakra:)
At a taunting voice coming from a corner of the tavern that seems to feature nobody there, Aurica glances that way, then chuckles.
"Oi, if you're gonna rile up a dwarf, my friend, you'll need to do better than that. Naw, c'mon out, so I can see your pretty face too and call you out for what I reckon will be an embarrassing lack of whiskers."
Suddenly realizing that it was not even a beard, but simply the current style in dwarvish women's hair styling, Drakra chuckles to himself. He remains quiet waiting for the nosey dwarf, and quite a nose it is as well, heads back to his, er her, ale.
Apologies for the holdup people - here is Reknar, Edeldhur's character :D
Good to go!
"Oh, I have a fine score of stories," the Ulfen says grimly, running a thumb along one of the gouges in the shield. "I've been fighting men and monsters for thirty-three years now, and could probably remember some of them. But this one stands out." He points to tone of the worst marks on the shield, a deep cut turned black, as if burned with acid. "This was from a blood demon when the Storm-King cracked the Wardstone, some twenty years ago." A dark look crosses his face, but is gone when he downs his second mug and calls for a third. It's evident it would take several pints to affect a man of his bulk.
He frowns when a voice pipes up regarding slobs and beards; seeing nothing but wall, he shrugs and turns back to Aurica and the newcomer in the hood. "My name's Jens. Jens Varmodsson. I think I'll be paying your father a visit in the morning, then, and see if he's as good as you say he is." Another deep drink of ale. He claps a large hand on the shoulder of the stranger in the robe and hood. "Say, Voren, you sound a mite skittish there. Seems you need a few more drinks!"
Aaaaaand now, seeing Reknar, I suddenly feel as if I have no hope D=
Why would you say that?
Same class, but your backstory is about four times longer and better than mine. :p Ah well, I'll just keep my fingers crossed!
Well, we can have the same class and play them dramatically different :D
This is true... I was in a party once with two bards. One focused more on performance and masterpieces, the other had the archaeologist archetype and played more like a rogue.
Also, I just remembered that the standard bearer doesn't get a mount. Neener neener. :p
True, I don't wants no mount! ;)
Reknar is also not revealing the fact that he intends to multiclass anyway. :P
------
Applications officially closed! I'll try and make a decision within a few days (maybe even by tomorrow if I'm super keen). I know there's people I haven't responded to for feedback, but I won't hold it against you. If you're really scrambling at the last moment, here's some general advice that more or less aligns to what I've told everyone:
This adventure path is about heroes. It is about people who take action, who are willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, people with the mental fortitude to look death in the eye and not flinch. Reluctant heroes must quickly find their motivations to do good, for not doing so is tantamount to admitting defeat.
Redemption is important. The foulest of evils is worthy of nothing but destruction, but even the faintest glimmer of hope may occasionally shine within the darkness. So, too, is leadership; an average person, an average hero, may be a follower, but a mythic hero is a leader of all men and women whether they know it or not.
The more connected you are to the setting, the better. The more you feel like an individual who lives and breathes in this world, the better. The more you provide me hooks and plots with which to intertwine with the story, the better.
Characters are not one-dimensional. Personal conflict is good. Flaws and foibles are even better. Minute details make for lots of fun.
AND LASTLY, thanks everyone thus far! I'm going to practically kill myself trying to decide here. :/
Voren jumps at the Ulfen's question. At the elf's question, Voren steels himself and says, "Ayne is my familiar, yes. She lets me be a bit more reactive in combat. She's... very unique to my spell work. I couldn't do it without her." The scorpion skitters around Voren. But at a much faster pace and cozying up to the hooded man, as if basking in the praise and thanking him. At the Ulfen's statement, Voren waves it off and says, "It's alright. I would admit that it does seem odd. But I consider her to be more than my familiar. She's been my friend for years."
Voren seems to cower at Aurica's comment on his hood before saying, "Well, what if I wear my hood for... my own safety?" He reaches his hand forward, his hand still in his sleeve. "A pleasure, Aurica Firehammer."
Voren nods at Jens in greeting. He stiffens at the man's hand on his shoulder. But soon relaxes again. Rubbing his thumb (or at least you assume it's his thumb) on the rim of his tankard, he says, "Well, this is my first drink. I haven't stayed in many towns long enough to drink in bars. So all of this, is very new to me."
I feel a bit better now... I think my character fits that criteria alright. *frets* Don't suppose it's too late to ask for a quick once-over of my character's backstory, since it's updated? >.>
"Not just a pet, but a friend eh!? Hummm, well I recon the Grundgigdar forest has sprites as small as that. Is it intelligent? Can you talk to it? Heck? What does it eat? Does she do tricks? Say, could you have her come sit in my hand? I'd like to be able to tell the boys back home I held such a fearsome beast."
The Cleric seems quite interested in learning more about Voren's pet. The scorpion is quite a novelty to him and you can tell he has never seen such a creature before. The elven wizard is no less interested except that he is more interested in Voren than the scorpion.
"Of course it lends you the aid of its senses, and increases your reactions, but does it add it's venom to your research or creation magic someway? You say it aids in your spell casting, have you found a way to make it a spell focus or something. What is your casting specialty?"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .'. . . .
The ranger found himself a seat. He quietly settled in listening and watching the others reactions. He knew he could learn more by watching and listening. He observed, while things played out around him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
The hooded subject seemed hesitant. The Cleric knew there wasn't evil in the tieflings heart, he had read his aura when he first walked in. Heh, well maybe common is his second language. It's mine as well after all." The older Ulfen had been brought out of his thoughts and into the conversation. The cleric was glad to see a fellow norther and reached out to him.
"I see you Jens son of Varmod, it is good to see your gnarled visage and battle proven shield. Please share the knowledge you have earned by paying the iron price so that I may speak it to others when you have joined your fathers in Valhalla. Come, let us share a drink. This one here with the Trodlidyte on says he is new to drinking. Let us show him and these children of summer how it is done."
Aurica lets out a low whistle at the words of the blood demon. "You were here then?" she asks with a new note of respect. "I was only thirty at the time though... too young to fight. My brother fought, though..."
The dwarf frowns, and has another big swallow of her ale. Then she shakes it away, smile back on her face again.
"But aye, go see my father. Tell him I sent you, eh?"
Aurica arches a brow at Voren's words... and at the sleeve-draped hand he extends.
"I don't shake a hand I can't see, friend," she says. "For my safety. No 'ffense meant."
The cleric nods in friendly agreement with the dwarf and then speaks to Voren directly, but so that others can hear.
"It would be much the same where I am from my friend. Wearing that deep a hood and covered head to foot is like you seek to cover yourself like the land under heavy mist. We find dangers in the mists, spirits. Showing ones self is being polite, it allows others time to decide if you are real."
"If you are thinking you can hide that you are not human you are fooling yourself. We can all hear the chittering and hear your hooves. I know that your heart is good and well and be at ease knowing my Patron God is a half devil himself, but redeemed of his evil blood and now walks in the light. Uncover yourself and be at ease in your own skin, for it is what's underneath it and down in your soul that matters. I pledge that I will stand between you and any other in this bar should they object. Or let me be deemed an oath breaker."
Aurica gives a sidelong look to the man professing he'll defend this cloaked fellow. She has another mouthful of her beer.
Wouldn't be her, promising to defend a cloaked figure. And if that cloak hides a demon's taint...? Then twice-over not her, for she'd sooner leap into the Wound feet first.
Voren looks at Ayne before placing her on the bar top. "O-okay. Just be careful with her." Ayne skitters but halts at the Ulfen's hand. It seems to be appraising it before it crawls into his hand. As she skitters, Voren continues, "To answer your... um... questions, not all scorpions are intelligent. But, since, she's my familiar, she's intelligent. We communicate through an empathic link. She eats insects mainly. And no, she doesn't do any tricks." He faintly hears a feminine voice in his head say, 'Just be careful with who you reveal yourself to and what you reveal.'
Turning to the elf wizard, he says, "Y-yes. She gives me venom for my a-alchemy. She doesn't work as a spell focus, per se. She... helps me with my spells and the choices." At the question of his spells, Voren tilts his head. "Huh? My spells? I focus on healing magic. Why do you ask?"
At Aurica's statement, Voren shrinks his hand back before staring at his sleeve. He then takes a deep breath before moving his hand out of his sleeve. His hand is red skinned and clawed. He says in a quiet voice, "H-hello." His hand also some odd markings, emitting a green glow.
Hearing their suggestions to take off his hood, Voren freezes. He ponders before hearing the voice say, 'No need to be afraid. Do it.' He then slowly takes off his hood. His black hair is in many braids with odd trinkets and feathers woven in. His horns remind you of the horns of a ram. His skin is a red color and his eyes are yellow and emit an eerie glow. He speaks, "I-it's just that I've been t-told that Mendev wasn't too f-friendly to what I am. And what my p-profession is..." He grows silent, unsure of what will happen next. "I-I've also done business in Ustalav. So even more reason to hide."
Aurica's face grows distant and set as a wall as the hooded fellow reveals, first his hand, then the rest of him.
Horns and claws, and skin red as blood.
Aurica lifts her mug and drains what's left of her drink down, leaving Voren's hand unshaken. She lowers the empty mug.
"You were told right, about how us in Mendev feel about such as you. I'll not cause your defender there to feel the need to uphold his promise, but there's others who might."
The cleric offers his hand readily and shakes Voren's with firm vigor.
"Heh heh heh, well my people raided and sacked just about everything the sea touches, but you don't see me hiding myself. I could guess that this place might not be as friendly to your kind at face value, but that us because many men forget that which the gods teach us and think with their emotions and feelings rather than logic. It's easier to judge quickly and move on than it is to engage, interact and come to know before one passes judgement. Besides, trying to hide what you are doesn't work here. You might as well learn to own it and deal with the consequences. Takes away the preconceived notion that you are untrustworthy because you hide your face from those that wish to make you fit within their pedjudices. Does that make sense?"
"But as far as the whole profession and Ustalav thing go I can't comment. Unless you mean you make and sell poison, but I didn't get that vibe from you. Please enlighten me on those matters."
Overhearing the rising conversation, another woman turns on her bar stool and leans in. Her skin is a red-tinged tan, and a pair of horns juts from her brow. Large wings with thin, patchy webbing give the impression that she's wearing a cloak. One of her eyes is ruined- the socket and vertical scar glow yellow, as if molten.
"If you've got a problem with half breeds you'd best get past it," she says, addressing Aurica. "We're on the same side, fighting amongst ourselves is tantamount to admitting defeat."
Aurica gives the just-as-visibly fiend-touched woman an unimpressed look as she gestures for more ale from the bartender.
"D'you see me fightin'?" she says. "I've drawn no weapons. I've called nobody foul names. I do believe I bought everyone a drink, which I've not taken back. But I'll not jump to swear blood-brotherhood with those who have the Pit in their veins, either. And if you've a problem with that, you're welcome to decline my drink."
"Fighting doesn't always mean bloodshed. A demon's manipulations are just as deadly as their claws. If you want to fight the forces of the Worldwound you're going to need to trust your allies- and your manner makes it clear that you trust Voren and I about as much as you trust an empty sheath in battle."
Marleeri sits back on her stool and sighs, her tail curling around the stool's leg. "In any case, I should apologize. I didn't mean to be so confrontational, and I'd much rather be your friend than your rival. My name's Marleeri. I'm a smith too, though I doubt I could match your father's prowess."
Oh, not at all: an empty sheath has plenty of uses...
Aurica grins briefly into her mug, but decides not to say that out loud. Whatever her own thoughts, Jormur won't be best pleased if she gets herself into a fight.
(Of course, Aurica thinks, Jormur's even less fond of tieflings and their ilk than she is. He would already have stomped out of the tavern with a scowl.)
She hears out the demon-woman in silence, sipping her ale. When Marleeri is finished, Aurica brushes foam from her lip with the callused pad of her thumb.
"Kenabres born-and-bred," she repeats. "Fifty years here. My father lost a leg to them. My brother's bivouacking in the 'Wound right now (Torag bring him home). You don't need to tell me that a demon plays many games.
"And I wouldn't put it past a demon to send plants into Kenabres who might not even know that was what they were: souls who truly believed they were here to do good, only to find their blood twisting and turning against them, controlling their souls against their will.
"I don't say that's what you are. I don't say that's what he is. I say I wouldn't be surprised to see it happen. And I'll leave my words on it there."
"Not everyone is blessed to be able to detect others natures. If we were all paladins then perhaps we could rid this city of such predeterminations and suspicions. Until then we must realize that if a child is bit by a dog early in life, he will be cautious in his future dealings with dogs. He may love dogs, but he will make sure of the dogs nature before he pets it."
"It pays to be cautious, but it can also pay to be open minded. The dwarf speaks plainly and directly, which is good. Little understanding comes from honeyed tongues and sugared words that sound nice, yet conceal bitter meanings."
"And to that I will drink. Thank you for buying the round by the way."
That makes no sense. Why would they use tieflings, creatures suspect for their very heritage, for something like that? she thinks, before deciding not to press the issue.
"Ustalav. I can't say what memories I still have of the place are very fond. I lost my father to a superstitious mob."
And they paid for it with their blood. Marleeri grimaces and shakes her head.
"I can't really blame them, people do horrible things when they're scared. 'A person can be compassionate, loving, and kind- but in a group, disrupted by terror, those traits can turn to single-minded hate and reactionary attacks'," Marleeri recites, before smiling and shrugging. She shifts in her seat and crosses her legs, laying two gauntleted hands in her lap.
"Kenabres is much better. Considering its history with demons, the people are are downright hospitable to tieflings."