conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Psilulz: It is a little past noon.
  You are in the forge room, picking up your blade from Gerrad, the dwarven smith, also a member of your order, the Blades of Dawn. He is hammering a bright orange blade on an anvil as he is talking to you.
   "Hail, knight.  I'm guessin' yer here fer yer blade?  A fine work, if ye' ask me.  Congratulations on the promotion, knight.  The ceremony was quite somethin'.  Anywho, this blade'll be lighter than what yer probably used to.  Just try and get used to it afore ye' go runnin' around choppin' things.  It also has a few abilities I inlaid within in it.  Just read the inscriptions" Gerrad dips the sword in a trough, resulting in an erruption of steam.
   "I've been busy recently.  Is the Dawn gettin' ready for a fight?" 
  
  There are two inscriptions on the blade, one on both sides.  The are written in gold, and look quite impressive on the blue-ish silver metal of the blade.
  The first says,  "Allow this blade to be your Dawn in times of Dark."   The second says,  "The Blades of Dawn destroy the Dark." 
   
   Spoiler 
  Mechanically, this is the same as your current sword, except that it is mithral, has a permanent  Light  on it (which you can turn on/off with the Celestial word for 'Dawn'), and provides you with an extra smite/day.
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Mystral: A soft, lilting word escapes Finnileas lips after she finished admiring the smiths work. With a flare, the blade lit up and cast a few shadows in the forge, outlining the smith, his anvil and the freshly knighted woman who holds the sword in her outstretched arm. Quite amazing. Of course, she couldn't swing the falchion this way in a fight, but it was very light, still. She would have to practice, that was true. In every blade, there was one spot that held the most force in a swing, and she would have to find it. With another wispered word, the same as a few moments ago, she extinguishes the weapons light and sheathes it.
  
  "The Dawn is always ready for a fight." she says with gravity in her voice, huffing up her shoulders with a stern face... which broke into a smile a few heartbeats later. She had imitated Guntram, the orders weapon trainer, one of his favourite sayings. "You haven't missed much in the last few weeks. There were reports of a cabal of dark ones in Gradisport, but as far as I know, that got sorted out while you were forging this blade. A fine one, indeed. I'm guessing you want to make up for the fact I don't require your armor?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Psilulz: "Ahhh Guntram,"  he says with a slight chuckle.   "Always a bit too serious.  I suppose that comes with the job, though.  Hmmm, that explains the recent surge of activity here.  Hope no one got hurt, though.  Gradisport is a nice little place.  Been there a few times.  Folks are nice around there.  It's nice to know were helpin' them out."   The dwarf walks over to a shelf, and grabs a large mug, and drinks deep.  It is probably just cold water.
   "Aye, it is a fine blade indeed.  I dare say one of me best.  As for your armor, miss, feel free to take a set from the wall over there whenever you feel you need it.  It's decent, but sometimes its good to have a backup, or something to wear for formal purposes.  Bein' a Blade ain't always about fightin' the bad guys." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Mystral: "Oh, I will, don't worry. It might send the wrong message if most of the knights of the order would attend something in fullplate and I'd be wearing this." She brushes her hand over the plain, beige dress she is wearing. She is standing a bit back, next to the door, so the sweltering heat of the forge doesn't burn her face. "There may be other things that keep the order busy at the moment. I was just knighted, so they wouldn't have told me everything. I'm sure they will find something for me to do, soon enough."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Psilulz: "Speaking of which, I've heard Eradris was lookin' for ye'.  He should be out in the gardens, tendin' to his lil' plants and such."   He rolls his eyes while mentioning the plants.  " Never quite understood why elves are always so fond of their plants." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Mystral: Finnilea just smiles. She doesn't want to get drawn into one of those arguments. "I'll see that I go to him. Thank you, again. I'll honor your work with my deeds." She bows a bit, then leaves the forge, granted the dwarf doesn't stop her. After she left the forge, Finnilea takes a deep breath. The sweltering heat of the forge room didn't really touch her, her crystal of adaption saw to that, but it was good to be in fresher air, again. She favoured flowers, too, but she didn't need to say that to Gerrard. Instead she begins walking towards the gardens and Eradris. How often had she toiled under his command, plucking weeds and tilling the earth, when she was younger?
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Psilulz: "What more could a smith ask fer'?"  the dwarf asks to himself as you walk off.  You hear the hammering start up again.
  The walk to the gardens is pleasant.  You encounter a few squires and apprentices along the way, giving greetings as they pass.  Light plays along the stained glass (found in most of the building's hallways) in brilliant depictions of numerous things: important figures, battles, and ceremonies among other things.  Colored light splashing onto the white marble tile floor is quite a sight to behold.
  The gardens are no less forgiving with their colors than the hallways.  Many species of flowers, trees, and bushes of all sort bloom brilliantly in the spring afternoon.  Amongst them, you see a figure hunched over, carefully trimming at a rose.
  It is Eradris.
  He does not confirm your presence, although you know that he probably knows you are present.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Mystral: Finnilea watches the elf for a few moments without announcing her presence. She recognised most of the flowers and trees, both their names and traits, from the experience she had gathered in this garden, but the greatest lesson she had learned was patience. You couldn't coerce or intimidate a flower into bloom, Eradris had often said. She was sure he would talk to her soon enough, after he had finished with the rose bush, and chose to enjoy the fragrant peace of the garden until then. He would surely not react sooner if she was breathing or staring down his neck.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Psilulz: He is still for a while, but you finally hear a soft snip noise from his mall pair of sheers.  Moments later, Eradris produces a bruised petal that was once on the rose.   "People should be more careful.  Even the smallest of actions may have uninentional consequences."   He stares at the petal for a while.   "I see you have your sword.  Hopefully you will not need it, but violence is a reality of our world."   The elf stands up and faces.  He is in plain brown clothing.  His right arm is covered in the usual black sleeve, however, and he is wearing gloves over both hands.  His right eye is covered by a black eyepatch, and you have heard rumors that his right leg is covered in something similar to his right leg.  In fact, you could probably summise from his face, that there are numerous scars running up the entire right side of his body.  No one knows what happened, but there have been rumors of various tales, of course.
   "The farm town Ventus has requested aid against goblin provocation.  I am sending you over to deal with the issue.  You are to bring along a squire, as well, as is of expected of a knight.  There are a few waiting in the stables." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Mystral: Finnilea bows slightly while clasping her hands before her. A squire.. well, she had spend enough time in the same role, and whomever she got, he would at least not have to help her put on armor.
  
  She thinks for a second, then asks the elf. "The mayor of Ventus will instruct me further? If so, I will depart immediately." Should the elf have nothing more to tell her, she politely says good bye to him and leaves towards the stables. Quitely, she wonders how far Ventus is from the castle of the order. Goblins.. not exactly a threatening opposition, but likely difficult to talk to. The true test was if she could bring them to lay down their weapons without killing them. There were things far more evil then goblinoids lurking in this world.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Psilulz: "Yes, the mayor, and almost anyone in town, should have more information on the matter.  To my understanding, raids on the town have started, for some reason or another.  There will be a guide to lead you to town, also at the stables.  He's a local, and the one that brought this issue to our attention.  You are dismissed, knight."  Eradris goes back to gardening.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Mystral: After a sharp salute, Finnilea turns away and makes her way to the stables. Raids.. that sounded a bit more grim then "provocation". Anyway, she would have time to judge the situation soon enough. For now, she had a different thing to think about. How should she choose her squire? Well, she would soon find out who were competent enough.