<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d8/RowanPF.jpg)  </div><strong>Rowan Riks</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/wiki/File:Rowan.pdf)<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Lady Caithwaine, Florica<br/><strong>Status</strong>: normal<hr/>Despite the drab colors and unsettling air about the seaside town, Rowan still trots about like a pup at the sight of it.  The sound of crashing surf over the usual shop noises and fisherman's chatter brings her to a pause at one point.  "That noise there.  It's like thunder."  Then, screwing her eyes shut incredulously.  "Is that the ocean?! Blast, I'd hoped it would be louder... Oh but it really is strange, isn't it? Day in and out, that--" and thus the country girl has returned to the subject she's been on about, perhaps annoyingly so, since the trio of young women had met over the past few days, the awkward chance that brought them together having taken them here on a winding path.<br/><br/>It's clear that she follows at their heels with a puppyish enthusiasm, but lacks any of the sorceress' gilded, surreal charm or the paladin's natural, serene grace.  Her ceaseless barrage of questions about the ocean, ocean ships, ocean waves, storms, and sailors is occasionally broken up by other awkward questions (were your ears always pointed, or do they get that way gradually? They're real pretty... Sort of like... Er, cornhusks.)(That woman called you a witch! Should I go break her egg basket?  Or... Well... You are a witch right, but it's how she said it pissed me off.)(Alright... Never have I ever... Knifed a man in the kidney! I drink! ... Hey, are you two even playing?)<br/><br/>The notice being nailed by a strapping young soldier is, for one once, enough to distract her from notions of the grand seas... That, and the remnant dock smells in the air are less than she'd romanticized.  Undaunted by the young man's weapons or purpose, she creeps onto him and lingers over his shoulder.  "Are you the corporal, then?" She asks, a bit more sudden and loud than her design.