<b>"A Baron Enters.."</b><br/><br/>((Late joiner; I just fancied warming up with this one.<img alt=";)" class="mceSmilieSprite mceSmilie2" src="styles/default/xenforo/clear.png" title="Wink    ;)"/>))<br/><br/><b>Name:</b>Baron Carl Dietfried Von Schwartzhand II<br/><b>Race:</b>Human/Worgen Warlock, by the looks of it.<br/><b>Age:	</b>37<br/><br/><b>Name:</b>Bahiyya, Scarlet Gem of the Void<br/><b>Race:</b>Succubus, disguised as a Blood Elf.<br/><b>Age:	</b>Visual appearance, 26 – actual age, 190<br/><b><br/>
Name:</b>Emberspike the Shrewd<br/><b>Race:</b>Imp, disguised as a Goblin.<br/><b>Age:	</b>Visual appearance, 29 – actual age, 73<br/><br/>The “Cantrips and Crows” and its owners were familiar with a selection of regulars – given the nature of Azeroth and the relative neutrality of Dalaran, these regulars came in all shapes and sizes and from a varying spectrum of allegiances. And by that extension, the Crows in particular make a living of serving the less savoury types.<br/><br/>Baron Dietfried Von Schwartzhand, or "the Baron" as he so “affectionately” was called, belonged to just this group. While his questionable reputation hadn’t travelled beyond the boundaries of Gilneas, it was terribly easy to feel ill at ease in his presence.<br/>The man stood at barely below two meters in height and his thinner frame only helped underline his height: The man wasn’t dangly or scrawny; Instead, his muscular composition was lean, tight and densely packed, evident of a life on the move. In brute melee combat, this man would be chanceless, but his lifestyle gave him a physique worth mentioning regardless.<br/>His face was square, but in a gaunt and long fashion. His head was crowned with short-cut hair and above his lips, a neatly trimmed copstash beard was found<br/>His jaw was a bit too wide to fit the traditional idea of balanced beauty. The first, second and third hints of age had snuck onto his face, skin almost ashen-grey and crisscrossed with wrinkles – while one wouldn’t call him old, this visage could make him seem older than he was. But in the department of looks, those things were the least of his concerns:<br/><br/>His eyes – relatively small - were perpetually open, almost round: both eyes were entirely white – therein included iris and sclera – and radiating a weak, constant luminescent glow.  This instantly betrayed his connection to the arcane…. or worse.<br/><br/>His body was clothed in the finest of Gilnean attires; an impeccable top hat nested on his head with a small, golden pin attached to its fabric depicting the national insignia of Gilneas. He wore a great, large, billowing black coat, draping across his white noble-mans’ shirt and high quality trousers.  Large black boots gave him a firm grounding along with his “cane”, a magicians’ staff compromised of a thorny stick crowned by an otherworldly skeletal head, further decorated with autumn leaves that oddly never seemed prone to fall from the staff.<br/>This man was not attractive – he was fit and lean, but all classical ideas of beauty seemed void. However, presumably due to his arcane nature, there was something about him that made some people look past the off-putting visage: An inflated, fel-arcane aura of dangerous allure perpetuated around his being drew impressionable people in, oftimes leaving them with a sense that conversing with this man was a risk but a risk worth taking.<br/><br/>The Baron was never alone on his travels – he was always shadowed by his two “loyal servants”:<br/><br/>Bahiyya was in some ways the anti-thesis of her lord: She was simply said alarmingly attractive. Currently sporting the visage of a blood elf with an unusually dark skin tone for her race, she strode with a careless gait of a temptress close by the barons side.<br/>Her hair was almost creamy in its nature, waving around her attractive face in mesmerising waves. The deep red colour meshed excellently with her darker skin tone.<br/>Her proportions mirrored her succubus nature, sporting the just right amount of curves to be slightly excessive yet wildly tempting.<br/><br/>She wore a simple white-and-brown servants robe with frilled sleeves that coincidentally helped enhance a gratuitous cleavage. Additionally, despite whatever circumstances, the dress seemed to be tight enough to showcase her body in a welcoming fashion.<br/><br/>At his other side, Emberspike was found – a goblin in his current rendition, Emberspike looked muscular for his perceived race. Clad in burnt orange/brown leathers from neck down, his attire was an indiscernable criss-crossing of straps, knits, extra pouches and satchels, potions, gadgets, daggers and what have you. He fit the vocation of a thief or a rogue to a straight A, and his perpetually sly smile – which was covered by a simple cloth most of the time – only helped giving him an almost instantly disreputable impression.<br/>The only truly unexposed part of his body was his bald head. His long goblin ears curved in a strange, almost horn-like fashion: The only hint that he might not truly be a goblin and a quite vague hint at best.<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>The trio in question sauntered into the Crows, pausing in the entrance of this seedy inn:<br/>Both his servants slid out to stand at either his side, both peering up expectantly at the taller man between them.<br/><br/>The baron squinted his eyes slightly as if an afterthought hit him – with a single gesture with his cane, he spoke: His voice was dry, stately and tempered:<br/><br/><b>“Please do not loose sight of why we are here, servants. Sink into the atmosphere but remember what you’ve been tasked with.”</b><br/><br/>Bahiyya commented with a mocking example of a defeated voice:<br/><br/><span style="color: Sienna">“Aww, and here I’d hoped you took me here for a drink and some rest and respite.”</span><br/><br/>The buxom lady peered with a hot glance at her lord, sliding up and stroking his upper arm. The gesture might have been seen as affectionate, but something in her mannerism gave it a perverted edge.<br/>The baron simply replied her cooing with a slow head-turn, peering at her with an increasingly stern glance. The lady immediately seemed to shrink just a bit on her spot, as if caught in the unwavering glare of something horrific  - the goblin came to her rescue with a hurried, croaking:<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue">“Sure boss. We’ll keeps our eyes on stalks, I swear. Bahiyya!”</span><br/><br/>The goblin sneered at the lady and gestured with a brisk head-movement towards the bar. The two servants of this tall “gentleman” broke their almost protective position around the Baron and waltzed up to the bar: The goblin was fast to install his person on a stool and order the blackest lager the establishment had for him, “something fruity” for the lady and a weak white ale for the Baron.<br/>Bahiyya ooooozed up alongside the goblin and let dashing eyes scan the buzzling inn with a predatory glance. She perched in a fashion that accentuated her unnaturally well-proportioned curves which in turn caught the attention of not a few customers.<br/><br/>The Baron himself mimicked scanning the room, but with a much more calculating expression – the place had potential, he mused for himself; but potential was not enough. He was here for the results and results only.<br/>He slowly ground into motion, each step taken with a measure of weight instantly betraying his generally contemplative nature. A few customers would glance his way, unaccustomed to the otherworldly sheen of his eyes and the strange feeling of unease and curiosity mixed together.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>