<div align="center"><strong>Corann Character Post</strong></div><br/><strong>Time of day beginning post: </strong>Noonish<br/><strong>Time of day ending post:</strong>Noonish<br/><strong>Location beginning post:</strong>Seaside Sal's<br/><strong>Location ending post: </strong>Bold Bison Inn<br/><strong>Characters currently interacting with: </strong>Sol\Nemea<br/><strong>GM Intervention Request\Required? (Yes/no):</strong>No.<br/><br/>“Able swords and mighty mages!” Corann practically thundered in response to Nemea’s inquiry. “Of course! Such things are the stuff of legends, of tales told as old as time, of heroic ballads and dream sequences!” He puffed his chest out proudly, all upper-body and pectoral muscle for a moment.<br/><br/>In response to the clamor, one of the patrons – a sailor retreated from the storm, human and weathered – said, “Aye. Blood elves here are madder than usual. And dangerous. They’ve been cutting off the supply of oil from the trees near here, or so the merchants have been saying for some time.”<br/><br/>When Solfiria cut in, Corann shifted his chair to more directly face her, his countenance steady and calm and his tone matched it. “My lady, you walk alone in this world. Surely you have gifts that allow you to survive, even in the face of danger? Perhaps direct confrontation is not your cup of Gutshaker or Gogondy, but perhaps we can reach some accommodation? I’m certain you wouldn’t want to miss on the glory to be had, even if that glory is had from behind the scenes, or behind the lines, or behind the enemy’s bums if you’re one of those back-stabbity types.”  Again, he added a sage nod of firm sagacity.<br/>