Eager to find something more satisfying to burn than bags of flour, Orania follows Cotton into the basket.
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Orania frowns, almost as if she's disappointed that more of building didn't burn. Finally she nods. "Yes, we should continue."
"No, we're not Oakstewards," Orania says, containing her mania for the time being. "We've come to deliver to them their just rewards for their evil acts!"
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With a shriek of joy, Orania sends another bolt of flame after the fleeing druid.
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Orania laughs in glee before sending flame in the direction of the crossbow-wielding druids. She follows up by summoning up her magical shield of flaming light.
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Orania's head tips back and farther back as her gaze is drawn upwards to the dwellings among the leaves above. "Don't they realize how vulnerable they are to a fire of any sort?" she questions with a shake of her head. She follows after the others, the thick scent of woodsmoke surrounding her like a cloak.
Orania's flame-clouded eyes turn this way and that, seeking something else to set alight with glorious fire. Seeing nothing, the disappointment is obvious. "Lead on, then," she declares impatiently when Anabel announces her discovery of the trail. Current Status/Spells:
The oracle turns on the remaining druid with glee. As if in a choreographed dance, she gestures to summon her shield once more and another splash of flame lights the darkness as it seeks out the druid.
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Dancing in place like the flames she draws essence from, Orania grins maniacally as she blasts more fire at the burning woman.
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The tingling rush of something to burn fills Orania's blood as she sends a lance of flame towards the nearest of the foes and then with a casual gesture, she summons her shield again.
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Refreshing her magical shield, Orania follows along with the others, trusting them to spy any threats - the spectral flames occluding her vision.
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Orania maneuvers to put herself between Cotton and the general melee. With a gesture, she sends a gout of flame at the cat attacking Cage.
She then replenishes the glowing magical shield protecting her.
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"Something is not right," the oracle agrees. With a simple gesture, she summons a shimmering disk of flame that floats near her. With more words, Cotton feels the air around Orania grow dry and warm.
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Happy to be riding instead of walking, Orania offers Cotton a spot on the front of her saddle. She remains stoic in the face of more pouring rain - a cloud of steaming vapor rising from her clothing. Taking another step closer to solving this puzzle seems to have her in good spirits.
Unwilling to burst Cage's optimistic bubble, Orania simply smiles. "Would dealing with Bolan be sufficient?" she asks Lemma. "Or do we need to ensure that all his followers are dealt with as well?"
"That sounds reasonable," Orania says with a nod. "What sort of assistance do you actually require with Bolan?"
Orania nods at Cotton's words. "Yes, that might just be what she needs," she says with a smile, overlooking the poppet's verbal slip.
Fully aware that any meal she attempts to cook has a tendency to end up overdone due to her effects on the flames, Orania stays back from the fire as well and watches as Anabel does a much better job of it. She considers asking to be removed from her turn at cooking detail, but that would be rude and not fair to the others. Pulling her eyes away from the hypnotizing dance of the flames, she looks around at the others. Cotton is particular wrenching to look at as the innocent construct shrivels to ash over and over again as Orania watches. She looks away and pushes aside the sense of pain and loss. Cotten's fine, she tells herself. Everything burns. "So who knows a good song?" she asks.
Always hesitant at touching something as combustible as parchment, Orania accepts the letter and conceals her relief that it survives the encounter ... for now. "Thank you for your assistance, Fianara," she says, echoing Anabel. "Yes, I think that our plans include retiring till the morn."
"How about we try something with a little less immediate threat to your person," Orania says with a grin. "No one needs to get hurt or arrested. Perhaps we could wait until nightfall and then repeatedly trigger the defensive magic? If they become so inured to the alarm, then they might ignore it when it's us moving through to actually test."
"There's obviously a magical alarm on the rope," Orania declares once they've moved out of earshot of the guards. "The question is how sensitive it is." She turns to Lyra. "Did you actually touch the rope when you crossed it? If it only activates on contact, then we can work with that. Otherwise, we need to find a way to distract the guards enough to let someone inside through the entrance area."
Deciding to take the direct approach, Orania approaches one of the Oakstewards and nods her head in greetings. "Good day," she addresses him in elvish. "My friend here," she gestures towards Cotton, "has heard wonderous things regarding the aiudara and has chosen to travel a great distance to see them. Would it be possible for her to view them from a closer distance?" The pattern of flames dancing across and around the gates is quite distracting, but she manages to keep her focus on the guard.
Orania considers offering aid as Lyra attempts to help conceal Anabel's heritage. "No, you need to ... no, not like ... Why don't you ...?" Realizing that her offered assistance won't help the situation, she presses her lips together and makes her way towards the city, stuffing her hands down into the pockets of her cloak as she passes the guards.
Stepping in front of Orania with her back to the other two she lowers her voice to a whisper, "Let have their fun now while they can. Who knows what dangers may lay ahead." "It's only harmless until it proves a distraction and someone gets hurt," Orania replies with a shrug. "But, as you say, I will speak no more about it." She tries to avoid letting her eyes follow the flames that dance across Lyra's shoulders. In an effort to distract her own wandering thoughts, she turns to the construct. "Miss Cotton," she calls out. "If we do, indeed, encounter any of these creatures, be sure to stay behind me."
Orania shakes her head as Anabel's flirting becomes even more apparent. She'd listened to it for the entire trip without commenting, but with a job laid before them it may prove a distraction. "Let us keep the focus on the task at hand, shall we?" she says, looking from the investigator to the warrior. "I don't think I've heard of gorgas," she continues, turning her attention to Fianara. "What can you tell us of them?"
While it may be wet and it may be raining, the everpresent water doesn't quench the fire that permeates everything that Orania sees. Like other things, she views the rain as just another obstacle to overcome to bring her closer to ... to whatever she feels drawn to. The frustration of not knowing what that something is has lessened, somewhat, by joining the estimable doctor's team, but it always remains, like the painful ache of a not-quite-healed wound. As Cotton raises her questions, the oracle can't help but smile. The construct has managed to engraciate her way into the hearts of all the team members. Orania has almost managed to ignore the image of the linen creation being consumed by hungry flames she envisions when looking upon her. To distract herself, she watches the tendrils of steam rising from where the rain evaporates away from her overheated skin. "When shall we contact you again?" she asks, once the man is finished expounding on Cotton's questions.
Answers to the posed questions: • What were you doing just before the aiudara opened?
• Which aiudara did you go through/where were you when you vanished?
• What had changed when you returned again?
• How did you respond when Dr Ritalson contacted you? Excited, curious, scared etc.
• What makes you special? Out of all the Gatewalkers out there, why (according to you) did Ritalson choose you?
. . . . .
Orania stands just a bit over 5' tall. On first glance, the only feature that draws the observer's eye is her luxurious mane of black hair. While bound back by a leather tie, the hair still remains thick and long. On second glance, one notices the small tracing of small cuts around her neck and face. The tiny white lines stand out against her sun-browned skin. She gazes out at the world through one eye of hazel and the other the gray of forged steel. As she raises one hand to brush back a stray strand of midnight-black hair once notices something else, instead of fingernails, her fingers end in slightly curved nails of cold iron. The sharpened ends are demonstrated when she flinches and draws her hand back revealing where one of them has drawn a new wound - a tiny red line that leaks a single droplet of blood.
Is she someone you have used before in AoA by any chance? Or are you setting her after? Orania isn't directly tied to AoA. I was just looking at the list of gates on the wiki and the ones under the citadel seemed the most promising/accessable. My original character in AoA was a gnome monk - Pril Piddwiemog
Dropping in with Orania's profile and crunch. I'll have the answers to the above background questions answered as soon as I'm happy with her background - which I'm not, currently. Summary is that she's a changeling (slag may) flame oracle who was present at Citadel Altaerein when one of the gates underneath it opened. I have a feeling that I'll be improving her background before we begin. Cotton has set a high bar. |