Princess Silmarand's page

I hope so, 'Perdita Ignota' murmurs as the Herald with her train of now ferocious pseudonatural fish departs. She puts away her shortsword at last, and tries to look the humble kitchen assistant for the guards who have arrived and are already knocking on doors checking for witness statements.

Presently the sounds of the fight die away. The Princess cautiously opens her door again, and looks out. The thug and the unknown merfolk are lying on the floor, faintly moving in the currents, but showing no signs of life.
Each appears to have stabbed the other through the heart with their squeaky rubber duck.
The jellyfish and starfish have apparently either swum away or gone back to wherever they came from.
The Princess closes the door again.
Someone else is bound to report this to the guards, and she's going to have to ready herself for the inevitable round of questions.

The Princess does open the door once the sounds of fighting break out in the corridor outside.
For some reason the thug who has been bothering her is fighting a merfolk completely unknown to her. They each have some sort of large starfish clamped over their face, and appear to be fighting one another with jellyfish (using the stinging tentacles as lashes) in one hand and a bright yellow squeaky rubber duck in the other.
She hurriedly ducks back inside her room, as do any of the other boarding house residents who investigate the fight.

After a while, the clam dares to telepathically comment to its mistress.
//So that's the Herald of the First?// the clam thinks.
//Yes// the Princess thinks back.
//Well that figures// the clam replies after a very long pause.
//Why did she just lie down and go to sleep like that on your bed though?//
//I expect we'll see in good time// the Princess responds, pulling up a chair, and preparing to spend as long as it takes on guard over such an important visitor.

I am currently experiencing some difficulty with an 'admirer' - a member of the criminal underworld who requires some effort to keep at arm's length without compromising my situation, the Princess continues. If you would have any suggestions as to how he might be dealt with, that would be of great aid to me.
I am confident that when called upon, I shall be ready to do my part, but unfortunately, she grimaces at the thought of some of the other Heralds, I am very much reliant upon the deeds of others before I can take my turn.

The sea elf gasps with the shock as the lightning strikes her shortsword, embracing it, and then drawing in to leave glowing glyphs and symbols of great power along the length of the blade. The Herald smiles favourably on her.
Thank you for this boon. My work here is slow and difficult. I have a job at one of the eateries of this city, helping to prepare and serve food. There was an attack by undead here a while ago. I was obliged to discard my disguise for a short period, and at a crucial moment of the battle to appear, as if I were the spirit of one of their great departed warriors, returned to rally the fight against the enemy. I appreciate that it was necessary for the Seventh Sign to happen somewhere else, and that the attack here was but an unfortunate side effect of that, but it was a nuisance to have to present myself in such a fashion. Even until recently there was still some talk in places, but it is dying away now, with the news of the forthcoming funeral and coronation - and the gossip of a wedding.

The clam silently seethes, furious at being so addressed, but aware that for some reason, its mistress seems to be very respectful of the woman who has just entered, and has in fact dropped to one knee shortsword out and positioned vertically, with both hands cross over the hilt and point on the floor, and with her head bowed.
Great Herald of the Eldest. I am honoured that you choose to favour me and my endeavours with your presence. If you would have the courtesy to bless my blade for me, I would be glad.

The unobtrusive sea-elf, passing herself off under the title of Perdita Ignota, who has a giant clam on the dressing table of the boarding house room which she operates out of looks up in response to a telepathic remark from the clam.
She glances across to the doorway out onto the balcony of her room, and to the coral gate which usually bars it but which has just mysteriously swung open.
She swears, and goes for the shortsword under the dressing table, but it is too late.
A woman with a gown of living coral, a hermit crab in her hair, and a train of fish enters the room.