The d’Lyrandar compound runs right down to the docks, stretching out over the shallow, sandy bay on barnacle-encrusted wooden stilts. As your longboat slips alongside the warehouse, a gruff, broad-shouldered man looms upon the wharf. “Uncle!” Aanna exclaims, erupting into his arms.<br/><br/>“And how’s my favourite niece?” He asks, whirling her round in a bear hug, laughing as she does so.<br/><br/>“Uncle Garam!” She squeals, giggling, till he sets her down and steps back.<br/><br/>“You’ve gotten big, lass,” he tells her fondly, “and beautiful. If any of you lads comes near me niece, I swear I’ll-”<br/><br/>“Your niece,” she murmurs softly, tip of her dagger pressing against his hip, “can take care of herself.”<br/><br/>“Aye, mayhap ye can, at that,” he turns back to her, smiling as she makes the blade vanish somewhere about her person. “If I see you plying your charms, Jonas,” he snaps to a handsome, bare-shirted docker who happens to saunter in this direction, heedless of the heavy crate tucked above his shoulder.<br/><br/>Behind his back, Aanna’s rolls her eyes… till they slide to the doorway, where a striking harpy and a cute, barely-clad kitsune have just entered. In spite of herself, the young half-elf licks her lips - though, perhaps fortunately, Garam doesn’t seem to see it...