<span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">Sybille smirked and arched a brow when Marek approached, saying he had a 'spirited' evening. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(147, 101, 184)">"Was it now?"</span> Sybille asked him, horribly feigning ignorance. Sybille thought about Shadow's remark about lingering scents...She forgot that Beastfolk had superior noses then the other races of Golarion. Did she still smell of the ocean? She wondered as she subtly tried to sniff her collar. She waved away his question about breakfast as she turned around and followed the feline assassin.<br/>
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It was a long but easy walk to the forest, they even got to take a break by a stream so Marek could freshen up while they all took a quick nap. But Sybille couldn't sleep. Her superstitions were making her anxious; what will the Shaman see? Her noble upbringing, how much she hated it, running away from home, life at sea, the deeds she had done, joining the guild? This couldn't be in her favor, all these experiences can change a person...<br/>
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It was morning when they finally reached the edge of the Fangwoods. Sybille watched how the Shadowfangs caught up with each other but didn't pay too much attention to it. However a large Ravager bursting through the foliage will force you back to alertness real quick! Sybille had instinctively grabbed the hilt of her needle-like blade before relaxing again, realizing that the creature was rather tame and more focused on the joy of being reunited with its mistress. She took a deep calming breath and let go of the blade again.<br/>
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They went deeper into the woods. It was very tranquil and green, nothing ominous or paranormal, or even magical about it. It would've been a peaceful forest if it weren't for the feeling of being watched. Sybille  kept her eyes on the trees and bushes, expecting something to jump out at them at any moment now. But instead they were greeted by the Shadowfangs in a fairly friendly enough way. One supposes that if a single Shadowfang brings you into their Clan's home then you must be trustworthy enough to not be considered a threat...<br/>
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Sybille frowned, her lips turned down when Shadow didn't bother to call them by their name. The village itself was quite quaint actually. She liked it, the houses were built in such a way that it didn't disrupt nature around them. They were into one of such houses, a tent like build at the base of a tree. Sybille looked up at the tree for a bit before being ushered inside. Out of respect she removed her hat and tossled her dark hair.<br/>
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Before Sybille could introduce herself to the Shaman the old woman stood up, approached the Elf and began her 'reading'. It was quick and ended up with a 'she's fine'...<br/>
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Sybille was stunned, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(147, 101, 184)">"That...that's it? Nothing else I need to do? No strange potions to drink or eat some sort of decaying animal leg?"</span><br/>
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She had a feeling that everyone was looking at her oddly...What kind of Shamans did she visit in the past??? Apparently Pirate Mystics are just about as trustworthy as a regular pirate... She decided to save face by leaving the tent with an awkward cough and placing her hat back on her head.</span>