Jirelle smiles and attempts to muddle her way through a recollection of their tale so far.
Search Posts
Name: Ansha
Jirelle gives Kyra a profoundly grateful look after realizing she'd just stuck her foot in her mouth.
Jirelle wanders around the court, mingling and slowly working her way toward Dominicus Rell. She attempts to strike up a conversation with him, sticking primarily to small-talk and avoiding potentially controversial subjects like politics or religion. "So, I hear those co-religionists of yours are stirring up the rabble out in the Wards," she blurts out, and immediately regrets it.
Jirelle hangs back, keeping an eye on the party's rear as the group converses with the strange owl-construct.
Closing with the dog, Jirelle jabs at it with her rapier.
Jirelle rushes to Hakon's side alongside Merisiel, jabbing at the disembodied hand with her rapier.
Jirelle attempts to dive past the kobolds blocking the door, then stabs one with her rapier.
Hearing the commotion at the other door, Jirelle rushes over to join the group at the doorway.
Jirelle frowns. "Interesting. Something seems off about this place. If Master Remaio is an accurate read of his cousin, this seems completely out of character." She takes to looking around for evidence of others' past or present presence besides Vereena's and the party's own.
Jirelle remains silent, letting the others speak while she recovers from her brush with death.
Jirelle groans and clambers to her feet. "Did we win?" she mutters.
Yelping in pain, Jirelle remarks, "Well, I do believe I have its attention!" She attempts to stab at it again.
"Oh my," Jirelle murmurs, drawing her rapier and rushing at the oversized scorpion. As she approaches, she makes a lunge with the blade, seeking to draw its attention.
Jirelle stays back, keeping an eye out for more obvious threats while the others look for tracks and clues.
Jirelle is also in favor of handing over the remaining relics.
Jirelle attempts to slip past the remaining ratfolk behind the line of her allies. She jabs it again with her rapier.
Jirelle is quick to dart forward, coming up beside Quinn to jab at one of the ratfolk.
Jirelle attempts to be sneaky behind Merisiel.
Jirelle raises a hand, calling for quiet as her slightly-pointed half-elven ears pick up noise in the distance. "Definitely some chittering going on up ahead. Sounds like a conversation, too," she says.
Jirelle frowns at the news as it is discovered that the bust is missing. "Awfully convenient timing," she mutters. She is little help in the investigation, however--her biting wit unfortunately puts off those most likely to have heard or seen anything.
Merisiel remains quiet, lurking toward the rear of the group and attempting to be a forgettable presence, lost in the crowd.
Merisiel keeps her rapier drawn, point lowered, and lets the others do the talking.
Jirelle strikes the gnome with the pommel of her rapier, attempting to knock the gnome out.
The elven rogue slips behind the final rower, taking advantage of its distraction to stab at it again.
Jirelle follows up after the gnome, feinting and jabbing until an opening presents itself.
Merisiel takes another jab at a nearby zombie.
Merisiel smirks, having intended the barb for the rower. She does not, however, correct M'boka.
"Have to do better than that," Merisiel taunts, jabbing at the rower again.
Jirelle jabs at the gnome again.
Merisiel attempts to sneak behind the withered man and stab him with her rapier.
Cursing, Jirelle charges Trajet, jabbing at the gnome with her rapier.
Merisiel slips into the shadows as the group heads down into the ship's hold, scouting ahead of the party slightly as they travel.
As unliving foes present themselves, she stays to the shadows, her rapier drawn, and waits for the opportunity to strike.
Jirelle frowns, hand going to the hilt of her rapier. Drawing the blade, she holds it at the low ready and says, "Now hold on. We've done you no harm. Why do you seek to harm us?"
Jirelle nods. "Lead the way, she says, gesturing with a flourish and following after the gnome.
Merisiel scowls. "We should press on," she says, eyeing the icy surroundings balefully. "It's cold, but time is not our ally here."
Merisiel leaves the interrogation to others, instead searching the room high and low for anything the party may have missed...especially loose bags of coins.
Merisiel groans and stirs, just in time to see the fight reach its conclusion.
The elf comes to her senses after a few moments and groans. "What hit me?" Merisiel mutters, staggering back to her feet.
Merisiel rushes into reach of the Ulfen just in time to be caught blindsided by a blast of colors. The elf staggers, stunned.
Merisiel curses Anibal's noisiness. "Mind your own business!" she calls out, charging toward him and drawing her rapier as she goes.
"Let me sneak up on him and I can knock him out," Merisiel suggests. Assuming there are no objections: Merisiel slips into the shadows around the corner of the building and proceeds to make her way over toward the Northlander.
Merisiel's way with words nearly gets her into a brawl with a random passerby, and after that, she decides to let others do the talking--after all, knives will solve any problem, but sometimes it's better that the solution be less...permanent.
Merisiel grunts and stares daggers at the servant. "About as trustworthy as the 'guards' downstairs at the gate, maybe."
Merisiel scowls and resheathes her knife, then stalks off after Anibal and the others.
Merisiel barely restrains herself from attacking the imposters before her companions can get a word in edge-wise.
Merisiel frowns and fingers a knife. "Your surcoat is on backward, you know," she says, drawing one of the long, thin blades she favors.
The elf, who introduced herself as Merisiel on the way to Greydog Manor, nods. "It does seem unusually chilly here. It's probably cursed," she remarks.
A platinum-haired elf brimming with knives looks around the room, then to Adril. She shakes her head. "No questions," she says.
Merisiel : 16188-3
:
: +6
Never actually run a pregen before, so I'm assuming you want the day job/faction of the character it'll be applied to, rather than the pregen I'm running. |