Serena follows wordlessly behind the others, still scanning the area for any signs of magical activity.
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Serena follows after the others, keeping her eyes out for anything unusual.
"We should continue to search for the lady. More people will be harmed if we do not find the source of this unnatural winter," says Serena, her voice quiet as she glances at the other members of the party.
"That is one view, yes," says Serena. "Can you disarm the trap? Even if we avoid it, a passerby could still fall victim."
Serena fires her crossbow at the walking corpse closest to her.
Serena draws and readies her crossbow, aiming at the door.
Trying to ignore the chill in the air, Serena walks towards the statue. She already has a hunch about what it means--but she looks for signs of magic regardless.
"Very little," says Serena, staying a bit behind the rest of the group as they walk. "I travelled here from the Land of the Linnorn Kings--I was planning on making my way to Absalom when the snow started to fall. I haven't seen snow in some time--it reminds me a bit of home." "The witches sometimes make raids into the Land of the Linnorn Kings--and they use magic of snow when they do. But I'm afraid that's all that I know."
"Surely this cannot be. How could the White Witches have extended their power so far south?" says Serena. "And what would the fey want with the lady?"
"Before we go," says Serena, stepping forward. She places her hand on the guard and closes her eyes, healing magic coursing through the both of them. "I hope that I can soothe your injuries, at least a bit."
Serena follows the others to the apothecary, staying a few strides behind the others.
"What were the nature of his injuries? Did he say what had happened to him?" asks Serena from behind the others.
"I will be on foot as well," says Serena, following behind the others.
"My name is Serena--Mossflower," Serena says, pulling back the hem of her hood slightly so her face is not so obscured, though still not bringing it all the way back. "I was traveling to Absalom, from Kalsgard, when the snow struck. It reminds me of home but--snow in Taldor, in this time of year? So far south? It is strange, is it not? The townsfolk seem to think that it is the Qadirans--could this be so?"
"I will come with you," says Serena, rising from her seat. She keeps her cloak wrapped tightly around her body and her hood drawn down over her face, and maintains a good amount of distance between herself and the men as she speaks. "I am--a healer. If the girl is injured, or if any of you are hurt looking for her, than I will be able to help you. I do not have battle experience but--I have a little bit of magic that could help you find her. And perhaps we could discover the source of this cold as well."
A thousand miles from Irrisen and she was still cold, wrapped in a fur cloak she had taken with her when she had escaped the Lady Sorrow--a bit out of place so far south, perhaps, but no more conspicuous than the ice blue dress her mistress had gifted her, still buried somewhere in her backpack despite herself. She should have abandoned it back in Varisia, selling it off to some merchant who wouldn't ask questions--but she couldn't bring herself to pawn it off just yet, even if it meant going hungry--even if it meant And at least the cold meant no one would notice the way her breathe iced in the air, or how cold her skin felt to the touch. The townsfolk all seemed to think that Qadira was behind the weather--she supposed that Irrisen was a distant idea to most of them, as much of a real place as the Great Beyond or the First World--somewhere that existed, yes, but wasn't going to effect their everyday lives. In her heart, she hoped that they were right. But in her heart, she feared that they were wrong. She entered the tavern, drawing her cloak tightly around her shoulders and her hood close around her face, finding a table close to the fire where she could listen to what the townsfolk were saying--hopefully without anyone noticing her.
Hi! I'm playing Serena Morgannan, a changeling witch. She's the arcane caster of the group, but she can also pick up some supplementary healing--though it looks like our group has that fairly well covered with a paladin and cleric. Looking forward to this game!
Presenting Serena Morgannan, changeling witch; character details are in her profile
Presenting Airic Graysea, seascarred skinwalker hunter. Background and RP sample are in profile
He returns his focus to Aleanaya, "A pleasure. Deterion...why does that name sound familiar..." "Oh, it's a common enough name," says Aleanya, looking away from the noble for a moment. "Not nearly as interesting as yours, though--how close are you to House Aulamaxa? I bet the Archbaroness once, when she visited the opera." With a smile back to Aleanya at the table he says to her as an aside, "Your performances in the Aria are well known by me and many of the other middling acts, Mistress Deterion - it's no surprise you made it to the stage of the House. I thought you went by another name out there, but if you have tokens of your performances that you bestow to your admirers, I would surely love to have one." "Oh, I'm flattered--I used to give out black peacock feathers in the park, let me see if I still have any" says Aleanya as she reaches into her bag--and sure enough, she produces a black feather, but just as she starts to hand it to Galen she pulls it away. "First though--tell me a story, perhaps?"
"Aleanaya Deterion, a pleasure," answers Aleanya, smiling at the nobleman. "I'm afraid I don't. I had just started working at the opera when they shut it down. I have a few--contacts, though, who would be able to vouch for me." ”Mistress, my pardon,” says “Zephyrus” hesitantly as he speaks to the raven-haired woman who seems to have come from an Opera performance in the rain, ”but I thought I have seen you sing before in the Aria last year before the winter solstice. A black masquerade mask by trade? Forgive me if I am mistaken, but if not I found your act astoundingly beautiful, worthy of the ‘House even. I am Zephyrus the Storyteller…ahh…also of the Aria at times, but not nearly of your quality, um of course.” "I didn't think my voice was so recognizable," says Aleanya, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. "That was indeed me. My name is Aleanya Deterion--I was employed at the opera house, but now that it's serving as Thrune's residence I find myself out of a job. You said you also performed at Aria Park? Are you a singer as well?"
"Oh, thank you," says Aleanya, smiling at the half-elven woman leading her towards her table. "Yes, I'm afraid that I'm out of a job for the time being now that Thrune has occupied the opera house. I have some--experience with nobility and was hoping to find employment with a house, as a tutor or a handmaiden perhaps," says Aleanya as she sits down next to the half-elf. "Are you associated with a house, perhaps?
Wiping away the last of her stage make up and gathering her courage, Aleanya approaches the table were most of the patrons of the tavern seems to have gathered. A few of the faces seemed vaguely familiar, and some of them seemed well enough dressed to be nobility-- "Excuse me," she says, to no one in particular, "would any of you be attached to one of the noble houses? With the opera house shut down, I'm looking for employment--I've, uhh, worked, in noble households before," she continues, her words trailing off as she listens to the rather charged political talk occurring at the table.
"Umm, miss," says Aleanya to the harried barmaid as she drops off the cloth and mug of water. Aleanya wipes off the remains of her make up before she continues, saying "Your establishment wouldn't be hiring, would it? In any capacity? I'm out of a job now that they've shut down the opera."
Aleanya wraps her veil tightly around her neck as she enters the tavern. She is wearing makeup, the kind used by stage performers, but it is smeared and running across her face, likely from the rain. At first glance the outfit she is wearing seems excessive but a closer look shows that it is well worn and of shoddier make than it would seem at first glance--it's a costume, in fact. She glances at the growing crowd in the tavern and finds an empty chair to sit at while she thinks about her next move. They couldn't keep the opera closed forever--could they?
Presenting Aleanya Deterion, a human sorcerer (Maestro) who had dreams of being in the opera. |