Sichelgaita One-Eye's page

At Sheliantha's court'sey, Sichelgaita rises and bows deeply to both Sheliantha and her lyrakien companion. "I'm incredibly glad we met, and I too hope that our mutual duties allow for passing more time together. "

She turns back in time to see the interchange between Liran, Erkos and Gla'hel - the latter two of whom she inclines her head in greeting. "The roads are certainly more dangerous than they used to be," she observes, on seeing Glathel's somewhat dishevelled appearance. "Though surely it'd be a brave - or stupid - bandit who tangled with a cleric."

Sichelgaita inclines her head to Liran. "I thank you for the compliment. And you're right - my blade has been less effective of late. Something that fellow Pathfinders have been wont to comment on...largely wondering how I'm still alive. Though smiting evil still seems to work just as well as ever. Still, though, I feel now may be a time to re-invest some gold in a new weapon."

She turns slightly, so that while she still faces Liran, the others are within her field of vision. "Sheliantha is *very* good at putting others at their ease. And she and Cuorecielo here were the first real friends I met after joining the Society - they managed to get this stuffy Paladin to loosen up considerably."

Sichelgaita grins at the sight of her good friends. "Iomedae on high, but it's good to see you again," she says, warmth filling her voice. She nods in thanks to the tiny azata. "And I feel much better, thank you. I just got back from a long journey, one that involved a great deal of swordplay, acid and undead. But we won through, and I made Andoran some new friends, so it wasn't *too* much of a hardship. And getting to enjoy a drink with friends at the end of it is a definite bonus. Especially when one's so generous as to restore me."

The battered, somewhat burned Paladin smiles and pauses in the beating of travel dust from her armour. "Well, I managed to make us some interesting new friends in Kaer Maga," she says cheerfully. "With any luck, the homeland will be hearing from them soon." She grins. "Between that, slaying an abomination and delivering an evildoer to justice, that whole trip was a mighty fine shindig, as my father used to say."

"After the last two days? I'll accept that," the Paladin says gratefully, clapping the speaker on the shoulder. "Thanks, comrade."

Sichelgaita raises her glass, with a smile of thanks. "To Daeven, the bravest Museum Guide I've ever encountered," she says. "Also the most resourceful - one day I must tell you about the schemes he masterminded in Riddleport." She looks at Liran. "I can well believe it," she says. "Losing my family and them friends in battle is one thing - the idea of outliving through age is...you're a brave man, to face it so well."

Sichelgaita sighs, feeling some of the pain and fatigue of the past days ebbing out of her. Even the pain from her still-healing ribs no longer seems so overpowering as the lyrakien sings, and she brings her forefinger up to meet the tiny hand. "Thank you, dear friend," she says, smiling.

She drinks again, and nods in thanks to Liran. "True. Though I failed miserably at defending recently." Her smile fades. "Damn it Daeven," she mutters. "Why did you have to go throwing yourself at that thing? You could at least have waited until I was healed again - I had more armour than you."

[OOC - in my last game, Sichelgaita was put into negative HP twice in the same fight, and a friend of mine lost the character he'd been gaming with for the last couple of years, who'd shared some of Sichel's early sessions. The actual event in the game was marked more with hilarity than anything else, but I'm RP'ing it as the loss of a good friend would be.]

The red-haired Paladin limps in, the dust of travel still visible on her armour and clothing, and fresh scars visible on her face and hands. "Iomedae bless you, Lady Jaleel," she says, picking up the nearest available alcohol. "I've come from the Arena of Aroden, and things...didn't go well." She sinks into a chair, but not without a hiss and wince of pain. "The journey back didn't exactly help the healing process. But maybe alcohol will."

She drinks deep, sighs and speaks again. "Unfortunately, I think that corruption is something that goes hand-in-hand with civilisation," she observes sadly. "I do think that our system of government can *limit* it, since an elected representative can be removed from office, and doesn't hold his or her office forever - unlike, say, a kingdom, where the ruler is for life and the ministers serve at his or her pleasure. We still have our problems, though... An Osiriani bard I met recently was telling me some rather disturbing things about the Morilla family..."

'I doubt if any Pathfinder relishes the act of killing,' the one-eyed Paladin observes. "But when what we do saves innocent life...yeah, it's still not something you relish, but you can at least know you've done right by the people who put their trust in you to defend them. Done right by them, done right by your comrades, done right by the gods... If you can honestly say that, then you can be content. As to the more practical side...cold iron, and trust the words of our magical experts,' this last with a nod to Sheliantha.

[OOC: God, it's been a while since I posted here. Ah well, that's RL for ya. RL...and deadlines. Many deadlines.]

Grinning, Sichelgaita takes the Halfling's hand and pounds him on the back. "Good to meet you, Ewan. Don't call me 'Seashell' and we'll get on famously, especially if I can cadge some spirits. "
She grins over at Liran, friendship and respect lighting her face. "You're absolutely right. When anyone sees us, they see Andoran and her ideals. And if we just follow orders without question for their rightness, then how does *that* show democracy to be a more moral system than Kingdom or Empire. How are we seen to be different?" She grimaces. "Especially since, any time one of us slips up, every king and noble in the world will rejoice and say to their people 'this is why we don't have democracy'..."

Sichelgaita looks repentant. "Forgive me, dear friend," she says to the Azata. "I am indeed a Paladin." She holds up her Icon of Iomedae - hand-carved by her father many years ago now. "I just couldn't resist playing along."
She nods at Sheliantha. "Absolutely true. Devils, Demons, or Dinosaurs, I'll stand between you and them. As my instructors used to say:
We are the point,
We are the edge -
We are the hawks that Iomedae fed!"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Sichelgaita grins back and returns the wink, speaking in tones of truly awesome faux-astonishment. "So *that* explains why I felt so drawn to the starry blue robes I saw in the market! And why I prefer silk garments over those made of hemp, sackcloth and beeswax, such as Paladins *should* wear. Yet...could this mind-addling spell have given me my talent with a sword? Then...it is talent undeserved! I shall have to take myself to a convent, and live a cloistered life forevermore in penance for the talent I have stolen..." she can't get any further, and collapses into a giggling fit.
Straightening, she looks at the tiny azata on her shoulder. "I'm sorry -you may find, the longer you spend on our Plane, that mortal humour often revolves around friendly sarcasm."
She looks consideringly at Nesod. "I once heard somewhere that they *did* fight one another..." she muses. "Though the story was an odd one...something about a spire and a city shaped like a wheel that floated in mid-air..."

Sichelgaita grins and leans back herself, her own chair creaking under her half-plate. "Beautiful Music, drink and good friends," she says quietly, not even realising it's out loud. "Sometimes it's nice not to be a Paladin and just to be...me."
Louder, she joins the conversation. "I imagine if it was widely known, what talent we have in our faction, the other factions would constantly try to entice certain of us away to liven up *their* meetings!"

Though Sichelgaita knew how amazing the Lyrakien's singing was from experience, her song this eve is truly awe-inspiring. Her hand goes to her right eye, though she smiles widely.

Sichelgaita toys with her glass, before drinking and speaking again. "I don't know what
I think of fate," she says carefully. "I certainly believe that the gods choose certain individuals and help them, but I don't think that's predestined - I think that when the gods do aid us, it's because of the free choices we've made in our lives." She drinks again, her expression serious. "North. I'm not looking forward to it, but I'll go, and do what I can. And hope I'm strong enough."
Downing the last of her drink, she smiles suddenly. "But we're not there right now. We're among good companions, and we can rest for a time." She grins at the Lyrakien n her shoulder. "Rest, sing and drink when our throats get dry from singing."

Sichelgaita grins at the tiny Lyrakien. "Oh, I don't doubt it," she says. "The very fact that she's out in the field, rather than sitting in an ivory tower somewhere reading and writing scholarly tracts on magic, is testament to her bravery." She inclines her head towards Sheliantha. "Though I didn't know the exact details. Lymirin's Wings, *that* must have been a fight to remember. Praise Iomedae you both came through it." She turns back to Cuorecielo. "I know, right? *Quite* a while."
She bows her head in acknowledgement of Liran's words. "That's quite a compliment, especially coming from you. I just hope I can earn it."

"Exactly!" the Paladin says, nodding in agreement. "The reason the country is great, and the reason so many peoples of different nations and races join us, is that we *can* argue, we *can* ask questions of our leaders, and we *can* call our leaders to account if we need to." She grins. "And if anyone tries to get me to lick boots, then they might lose their feet."

Sichelgaita looks at Liran with awe. "You were *there* during the People's Revolt?" she asks. "Iomedae on high. The children in Fusil were in awe of my family because my grandam's grandfather fought in the Revolt, and she still remembered the stories he told her as a girl. If *you'd* ever come through there...forget the children, you'd have had every man and woman in Fusil eager to speak to you, and you'd have had room, board and drink for free as long as you stayed."
As she hears mention of the Abyss, her hand grips the small wooden icon of Iomedae about her neck. "I think," she says to Cuorecielo, "that in the weeks and months to come, we're all going to be grateful that the Society has people like you and Sheliantha. We'll need thinkers more than standard fighters, especially when dark magicks are involved."

Sichelgaita smiles back at both Sheliantha and Cuorecielo. "She's sharp, no question about it," she says. "But, she's like me - she's only sharp to people and things that've trying to murder or enslave. No-one else has a reason to fear her edge." She grins wickedly. "Now, her *flat*, and the sap stowed in my sleeve, sometimes have to be used against people who can't take hints, but I don't think that'll concern anyone in this room."

Sichelgaita nods slowly. "It *is* our duty to protect, true...but sometimes, the best defence is a good offence. Or, at the very least, a good offence will distract an enemy long enough to allow innocent non-combatants to escape with *their* lives." She looks to Nesod. "I'm glad you liked that. I was younger when I decided on the name, so I sometimes wonder how it holds up." She looks at his bow with respect. "Fighting in heavy armour doesn't exactly allow for accuracy with a bow, and I was never any good even *before* I earned my half-plate, so anyone who *can* master one of those things is worthy of considerable respect, in my opinion."

Sichelgaita salutes the Knight-Captain and nods in agreement. "We're all going to need to pay a pretty penny to upgrade our arsenals. Not that I have any problem with that - miserliness isn't a trait looked for in Paladins - but I just hope I have enough..."

"I take your point, Jaleel," Sichelgaita says carefully. "Still..if you don't mind my speaking entirely from my own point of view... Hellknights are disciplined, but they've no sense of humanity or compassion. They'll sacrifice innocents by the score, if it brings them closer to victory. I can easily imagine scenarios where they use innocent civilians as bait for demons. Or where they use *us* for bait - even if they were willing to join with us, they'd only do it because they wanted to use us as meat-shields while they preserved their strength."

"Well, why not? I've had Reason since before I even became a Pathfinder - after so long, not having a name would be odd. Besides, I swear she has a personality all of her own." She grins at her sword. "Besides, my enemies tend to listen to Reason, in the end."

Sichelgaita looks at Nesod. "It does seem familiar, doesn't it? For some reason, images of a floating, ring-shaped city spring to mind. Oh well..."
She shakes her head. "I disagree. No offence meant, Jaleel - these are grim times, and we need to consider all options - but we need to think about the long-term. Letting the Hellknights into our councils and discussions is courting disaster. Besides, their rigidity, their unyielding worship of order above all else mean that they'd never agree to making common cause with *us* - we're far too anarchic for them. In *my* opinion, the Eagle Knights need to get talking with the Silver Crusade - if anyone's equipped for fighting demons, their paladins are. Especially Lady Bree-Bran - talking to her, she seemed quite zealous and eager to face evil."

"Always good to see you, Nesod," Sichelgaita greets the monk cheerfully.
She turns serious again. "For my part, I don't find any conflict between my ideals and the ideals of Andoran. Fighting to free slaves, to overturn oppressive regimes, and to make all men and women as equal before the law as they are before the gods...these are goals that march well with my oaths as a Paladin of Iomedae and a hawk of Saint Lymirin. Plus, as an Andoren by birth, I'll always put my body between my beloved homeland - the land where my mother and little brother still live - and harm's way. But I subject each and every assignment I receive from the Major to close scrutiny, before I agree to take them on. And if they ever seem immoral, I will refuse them, as is my right as a free citizen of Andoran." She grins. "Besides, that we're having this discussion at all speaks volumes about our love and respect for freedom. If one of the Vipers even whispered a word of dissent about *their* masters, they'd find themselves getting skinned by the Hellknights before day's end."

"The sewers of Magnimar aren't much of a picnic, either," Sichelgaita growls in sympathy with Liran, "Still, at least they're uncontaminated by Goblins. Thanks to the visit my comrades and I paid to them. By the way, if you ever find yourself on assignment with a Halfling Druid named Dochas, watch his cat. That animal was worth two fighting-men on her own." She grins at Nesod. "And punching things till they stop moving is a viable strategy - I led a large group of new Pathfinders into the Fenwall mountains a while back, and that was the keystone of our tactics. That and throwing grease. And a few swift blows from Reason here." She taps the hilt of her master worked longsword.

"Most of the time, I find being tall an advantage," Sichelgaita agrees with Liran. "My point was, a party needs variety in order to achieve its objectives. I'm illl-equipped for subtlety, and so were the men who accompanied me, so when it came to infiltration...things were so close to failure." She grins at the Lyrakien "Being temporarily small might have been helpful there. And a lamia spat at you? Poor thing - you probably felt like a bath in pure alcohol after *that*."
She blushes slightly. "Also, sorry for my strange use of language - back in Fusil, 'gowk' is slang meaning someone who's clumsy and uncoordinated. I went through a particularly fast growth spurt, so I definitely for the bill as a teenager."

Sichelgaita inclines her head. "Thank you, kind sir." Her face grows grave too. "You're quite right - now is the time, more than ever, that we must all stand together. We're approaching a crossroads fast, aren't we? Where the course of the world - or its survival - will be decided." She grows quiet, then shakes her head. "But, as long as we all have one another - as long as we keep true to our brethren and sistern - then we'll come through it all."

<OOC: apologies for disappearing - leaving the country for four days IRL can hurt one's forum activities :-) >

Sichelgaita, having listened quietly to the conversation for a while, joins in now. "A song my mother sang to me applies to this discussion well - the last couple of lines anyway." Clearing her throat, she sings the lines softly:
'Three things trust and cherish well, the horse on which you ride,
The beast that guards and watches, and the sister at your side'
"Well, there are plenty of brothers as well as sisters, but the point remains the same. Cherish those who stand with you, and you can fight any enemy." She sips her drink, then continues. "I fought a devil, in a certain power's embassy...it was awkward, but I won through in the end." She grins at Cuorcielo. "Though a touch of your Mage Armour would have helped greatly, my dear friend. And your intellect would have helped greatly, Sheliantha. As it was, the companions I was saddled with...they were brave men and true, but...stealth and themselves had only the briefest of acquaintances, and for an overgrown gowk like myself, clad in half-plate armour...it was extremely difficult."

Sichelgakta bows her head,and, removing her gauntlets, extends her right hand in greeting to the tiny Lyrakien "it's good to see *you* again too," she says.
She pauses in reflection. "I suppose I shouldn't complain - the Society's already let me see so much of the world. Most people from Fusil never travel beyond the Verduran Forest - which is beautiful, to be sure, but familiar. Everything I see with the Society is new."

A one-eyed young woman in spiked half-plate slams gauntlet to cuirass in salute, then sits down, removing her helmet and letting her long, red braid fall down her back. "It's always good to see a new face in this particular part of the Society," she says cheerfully. "Welcome back to Absalom." She grins wickedly. "Though I must confess to the sin of envy - *my* missions have never taken me quite so far afield."
She nods cheerfully to the others

"Well, don't look at *me*," Sichelgaita retorts. " The prospect, to me, makes hanging upside down in the Pit fighting off devils with my spit sound relaxing and pleasant by comparison. But each to their own, and if you're willing to make such a sacrifice then you should be honoured for it."

She sighs. "This all seemed simple, when I came to Absalom," she says sadly. "I came from Andoran, I love my country, so following the Major's orders seemed right. But listening to you... Well, if I get any such orders as you describe, it'll be as a Paladin of Iomedae that I act, not a soldier of Andoran.." Her gauntleted fingers tap the hilt of Reason, her polished longsword.

The blonde has been dangling and the Major doesn't seem interested in the bait. We STILL need a response and/or a rebuttal from Major Colson Maldris. Perhaps he is too EMBARASSED to respond.

If no one else wants to step up and lead our faction, perhaps our government should get off of it's collective but and choose a new representative. Andor cannot force Major Maldris to settle down and marry someone, Ador could SUGGEST that Major Maldris pick someone and quit "playing the field". It was Major Maldris' orders to cover up HIS EMBARASSMENT that led me to my call for his removal in the first place. Our appointed leader should not be placing himself in any kind of embarassing situation.

Sichlgaita One-Eye looks her fellow Pathfinder up and down. "Rather you than me, girly," she observes wryly. "Quite the sacrifice you're thinking of making for the Cause."

Her voice becomes serious as she continues. "My own orders have been straight-forward, from an ethical standpoint, but if the Major is using his position for this kind of thing...such conduct is more befitting of the snakes of Cheliax, not the proud eagles of Andoran. My vote would be for his re-assignment to a colder, more polar region, and for a woman to take his place. Preferably a cleric of Iomedae or Sarenrae. With such a one leading us, the likelihood of such behaviour is removed and our younger Faction members can feel confident that the ideals they believe in are cherished as much by their leader as by themselves."

She speaks to Jaleel one more time. "Don't dangle for too long, you may catch cold."

Sichelgaita inclines her head in thanks to both Annan and Alexite, and raises her own glass in return, her hand briefly straying to her eye as memories surge in her mind.
Shaking herself, she returns Sheliantha's smile. "Thank you for the kind words - and for showing me around the city. My horizons had been kind of narrow before that, and I hadn't explored properly beyond the main districts. Plus I know paladins have reputations as sombre types, so it was supremely kind of you risk being bored to death!" She pauses "That was before my last mission, of course - the one that involved an embassy, stealth - difficult when you're a paladin accompanied by a monk,a ranger and a sorcerer - and everyone in our group relying on me for healing magic."
That memory makes her laugh, and she looks to Salranna. "I agree completely. And every paladin knows a book can't be judged by its cover." She shakes her head. "No, I've never been to Alvis - I must one day, though."

Sichelgaita's face goes from a smile to contrition. "I'm so sorry - I didn't mean to bring up unpleasant memories." She sighs. "We have the pain of losing a father in common, sad to say."
Shaking her head, she brings a smile back to her face. "But you're right. We'll talk of happier things, and I'll strive to be better, more sensitive company. Though I fear I'll not be the most genteel company - going from the daughter of a horse-tamer to being a holy warrior of Iomedae and Saint Lymirin wasn't conducive to polish or sophistication."

"I can see I'll need to make more of an effort to learn languages, with the friends I'm making these days.," Sichelgaita chuckles softly. "It's not a skill my assignments to date have needed over-much, but at the very least it'd let me keep up with conversations back here."
She eyes Salrana with a mixture of concern and awe. "I've never seen anyone drink mead so quickly and remain vertical. Hells, I remember seeing quarrymen back in Fusil keel over after half that - my mother's sister ran a tavern there, and I stayed with her one week while my mother was ill." She smiles ruefully. "I was fourteen, but I was already tall enough that Aunt Inara decided I could be the bouncer. Nothing quite makes you lose faith in humanity like throwing your friends' parents out and watching them fall asleep on the ground outside."

"With difficulty, I should think." Sichelgaita passes Salrana's ale to her. "In my downtime? Hmmmm...meet with faction mates, like I'm doing now. Write to my mother and my little brother, sometimes send a gift, when I can. Nothing too exciting . Yourself?"

Sichelgaita catches the jar, and inclines her head in thanks. "I'm in your debt," she says cheerfully. "Unfortunately, I don't have anything to give in return...except another drink, of course. What'll you have?"
Undoing her heavy gauntlets, she puts them in her backpack, them drops it, her long cloak, and her helmet on the floor, moving them into a corner with her battered shield. Leaning back, she sighs in contentment, obviously glad to just be Sichelgaita, not the Paladin of Iomedae, at least for a short while.

"Iomedae on high ...it's amazing." Sichlgaita studies her drink intensely. "So much flavour. How do you do it?" She studies Salrana. "That's quite a talent you have. I imagine you're quite popular for long journeys - this must make even dried trail rations taste like the foods of the gods."

"Hey, *I'm* from Andoran," Sichelgaita cuts in. "From Fusil, in Andoran's part of the Verduran Forest. So I'm always doubly glad to see how so many believe in the nation I was born in. And it's a true honour to have you join - your name is well-known."
She examines the ale with a nod and smile of thanks, then drinks deep. Her eye suddenly widens...

"Most adventurers tend to be sociopaths'?" Sichelgaita nods. "Oh, Kyros, Alexite...until you've seen your party fellows trying to weight down unconscious pirates and roll them into Riddleport Harbour, you ain't seen nothing yet. Trying to defend *pirates* was the most bizarre experience of my life." She chuckles. "Though...more ruthless thinking has its uses. Like how do you resolve a hostage situation? Colour spray the hostage and captors together, apparently."

At the mention of the Aspis Consortium, everyone notices her fists squeezing tightly. "Any mission to hunt down Consortium men is good in and of itself. But then, I'm probably biased, since those *animals* killed my father."

Sichelgaita's face is a study in indecision. Eventually, she shakes her head. "I'd better not. I have an appointment tomorrow, one that by the sounds of it could lead to an assignment, and I'd rather not be at a handicap when swinging my sword." She pauses. "Unless you have some kind of cure as well as the flavour-spike, so I can sober instantly or get my liver back."

Sichelgaita looks at the young girl. After her last mission, she feels she knows exactly who - or rather what - 'Kou' is, and has to fight an urge to fall to her knees and bow her head. Not knowing if she wants to be incognito or not, she simply inclines her head. "Welcome Milady," she says. "I was saying that this round's on me, so...what will you have?"

Sunaki Hojo floats into the room his robes billowing behind him. He has balded more over his long career as a Pathfinder and grey has started to set in prematurely.

"There are so many important choices to make and so soon before my final mission.
** spoiler omitted **

"I am pleased to say that I have had the opportunity to adventure with almost all of you over my long career. The only faction here I do not believe I have been previously introduced to is the Scarny family. And perhaps that is for the best."

"But who will I come to know better as my new master. There is much that I can offer all of you, but what can you offer me?

Lady Gloriana Morilla and Paracountess Zarta Dralneen have already sent me offers of titles and glory should I choose to assist them. Andoran has offered me a similar proposal, but I find that their leadership is to willing to dispense with honor in his actions. I have also heard disturbing rumors that those from Andoran are known to practice cannibalism.

Qadira has offered me riches beyond my imagination and access to some discounts in the markets of Ketapesh. A tempting proposal certainly.

I have heard rumors that should I fall in service to the Ruby Prince he will have me brought back as one of his Risen. Is there any substance to this? The life of an adventurer does seem to be shorter on average.

Finally some of my companions have already made commitments to the Silver Crusade. Truly they are a good and honorable faction.

So many important decisions to make."

Hojo then picks up his mug using his eyebrows and takes a long drink. When he eventually gets up to leave he leaves a letter of credit from the Scarni covering all expenses for the guests.

** spoiler omitted **

"Cannibalism!?* Sichelgaita initially seems to swell with rage, then suddenly laughs. "Let me guess - the Harlot Dralneen probably told you that. While leaving out, of course, any detail on the ritual sacrifices they hold to keep their Dark Prince's favour."

"Oh, and Steel Arrow?" she adds. "If you did join our faction, I think you'd find a purpose very soon. Though don't run yourself down - you seem more than sufficiently 'Smart'"

Sichlgaita smirks at Kyros. "I remember a cleric I met once - a tengu. Any time he went into a tavern with friends, he'd say 'two bottles of wine, and they'll have one as well'."

[OOC: Wow! Reading that was fun. You've got a gift for this. In-character, of course, I shall have to respond. After that, I'll shut up - don't want to turn a question thread into an in-character flame war. Plus, I doubt I could be as creative :-)]

The Paladin of Iomedae rolls her eye. "Hiss and spit all you want, pretty viper," she says cheerfully. "Just remember what happens when the Snake gets skewered on the Eagle's claws...and remember how Andoran became a nation in the first place. If you couldn't beat a popular revolt, I doubt you could manage against a professional army."

Another paladin, this one a one-eyed woman, enters the room. "A new recruit? And another paladin, to boot? If that's not cause for celebration, I don't know what is. Welcome, brother! This round's on me."

Sichlgaita bows her head to the senior Paladin, though she can't help thinking that she seems somehow familiar... Shaking her head, she addresses her. "Well met, Milady. If you overheard my previous words about Cheliax, I apologise. I bear no malice whatsoever towards its people - my cause is one that ignores ethnic or geographical lines - only a certain antipathy towards its current generation of rulers." Raising her voice for the benefit of the laughing Chelish archer, she adds 'Who couldn't hold onto their empire without selling their souls to damnation, which speaks volumes about them and their fitness to rule. At least men built my nation by their own labour, we didn't need Hell-spawn and dark magic. And that, I think Renegadeshepard, is the greatest point in Andoran's favour. We're not based on...outside help, or the secrets of the past as Osirion are, and we don't wallow in the past like Taldor. If our principles do spread across the world, then it'll be because of our work and our work alone." She chuckles. "If you joined us and we succeeded, hundreds of years from now your name would be remembered as a father of the Revolt."
Turning back to her fellow Paladin, she continues. "I wish you luck on your quest. Have heard whispers of what you soeak of, and so I would ask, though: what is the nature of your training? And how did you come to it? When the time is right, I would take my stand against this threat too."
[OOC: being still slightly newish, is this what you're talking about? http://www.pathfinderwiki.com/wiki/The_Worldwound]

Sichelgaita's smile answers in kind. "There are indeed. A great many." She laughs then. "If you truly wish to be a patron of the arts, you *must* come to Almas. I have a feeling you'd like the Theatre District. Though it was fraught with perils for my fellow Neophytes - many of my brethren and sistren found themselves enamoured of particular actors and actresses, and used - in the best traditions of courtly love - to try serenading them beneath their windows, usually with guitars and severely out-of-tune voices. So, of course, everyone in the theatrical profession used keep a bucket of icy water beside their beds. Sometimes, they mixed dye in so the Lady Commander would know just who'd been breaking their curfew and could impose unpleasant penances. I had many friends who that happened to, including one who never could get the purple out of his hair."

"Well, if you find a Ranger, then let me know and I'll join the two of you," Sichelgaita says. "Though possibly not for another while - I've been hearing rumours that I may be off again next week. Something's going on..."

[OOC-my local PFS group is finally having another session next week, lol]