<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/ERG0LH1.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Arwen Deveroux ap Leanhaun<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>January 1st, 2018<br/><strong>Status:</strong>--<br/><strong>Notes/Triggers:</strong><br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>anyone/open<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Arwen smiled wistfully out at the gray winter sky from the cabin of the truck that had picked her up hitchhiking.  It was almost painfully easy to get a lift, as long as you were willing to deal with the driver, and this one was sweet; going on and on about some fishing trip he took out at Robber's Cave when he was a boy scout.  Sometimes the men were gross, always pawing at you or making comments... and sometimes it got even worse.  "You always pay for your trip one way or the other" she thought to herself, "it is just the amount that varies".<br/><br/>A hairpin left turn took her out of her reverie, and looking around they were now on a highway rather than the seemingly normal county road then had been rambling on.  Her chauffeur, Hank, finished his "one that got away" story and Arwen graced him with a brief "that's amazing.".  Hank looked her over once again, stunned that such a creature was in his truck.  "We just got on highway two, which means we're only about 5 minutes away" he managed to get out, before looking straight ahead.  Staring at this girl was like staring into the sun, and Hank was about to get another "one that got away" story; one that his buddies would definitely NOT believe.<br/><br/>Arwen smiled at him and went through the little pouch on the belt that also masqueraded as a skirt that she wore.  Inside was her ID a few bucks, her Obama phone (or so they called the free brick cellphones that were given out on the street in Vegas) and the letter.  She took the letter out again and read it.  "Chosen as my Champions" it read.  Not only a knight, but now a champion... in a real quest to protect the Duchy itself!  She clasped the letter to her breast, trying to calm the beating... remembering that someone died, and other people would be sad.  It wasn't that Arwen wasn't sad at death, but death was just so much more of a reason to go and life your life!  This was the life Arwen wanted.  Every year, the Thallian grew worse, the Garou more bold, the Vampires more vicious; and she was going to be on the forefront.<br/><br/>The truck pulled off the 2 freeway and into a small turn around.  Looking out of the truck Arwen saw a pool, which seemed strange being that there was a lake right there, a nature center/gift shop and a community center.  "Do you know there you're going?" asked Hank as he paused in front of the nature center "I can give you a quick tour around the place".<br/><br/>"You're sweet" Arwen said, placing her hand on the side of his face for a second "but I'll be fine. I told you, I'm meeting people here".  Hank suddenly seemed to freeze, and judging by where he was looking, she knew that her top had shifted again to flash the poor man. "God dammit" she thought to herself.  "Well Hank" She said overly loud, "it's been great to meet you, But I really got to go" and with that she pushed open the door of the 1970's dodge ram that was her chariot. She slipped out of the truck quickly and easily, her lithe frame moving easily.  She tuned around to give a quick "thank you" when the wind picked up her skirt, showing him the fine craftsmanship of House Dougal. Sighing and shrugging mentally, she looked into Hank's eyes, winked and mouthed "That's for you" before moving on.<br/><br/>Her sword retrieved from the back of the pickup, she wandered to the Nature Centre.  Without a smartphone or internet connection, Arwen had to pick up on things the old fashioned way, not that she hadn't looked everything up in the library before.  A quick look at a map of the nearby lake oriented her in the right direction.  To chimerical eyes her gray cropped camisole was a fantasy of curve clinging spidersilk and pink/purple/blue motes of light that echoed her color-changing alexandrite eyes, and her black skirt was even shorter, a fantasy of tiny lace appliqués floating in what was seemingly mid air.  The lace was somehow pleated like the black skirt of the autumn world and attached by lines of invisible power rather than any mortal illusion lace. Her knee high boots were oil-slick black, and as she walked it shifted from the spiked heel of the city to a comfortable, military sole.<br/><br/>A quick walk south along the lake's edge brought her to the Little Dam.  She could easily see the regalia of House Beaumayn on the sidhe waiting by the waters edge as well as the complete and utter lack of chimerical regalia.  Pausing for just a second, she tied her dreads up behind her, then grabbing her sword, she strode forward purposefully.  There was never a second chance to make a first impression.<br/><br/>Reaching the dam, she strode straight to the sidhe and kneeled before him. "My lord, My name is Sir Arwen. I am among those tasked to investigate and avenge your sister's death."  She looked up at him from her kneeling "I am your champion, my lord, We will do everything in our power to put you at ease." then standing when given leave to do so.