<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>From Seaside Sal’s to the Bold Bison<br/><strong>Characters currently interacting with: </strong>Sol\Nemea<br/><strong>GM Intervention Request\Required? (Yes/no):</strong>No.<br/><br/>Despite his rough appearance and seeming lack of awareness about anything resembling social mores outside of his own culture, Corann took Sol’s silence and glances in with receptive understanding. This newcomer clearly had appealed to the girl’s quieter, gentler nature on a level the Chosen had not. Oh well, the little people were fragile, emotionally and physically, and he dared not push things further in his zeal to accomplish world-changing goals.<br/><br/>“Say, mister, my name is Corann,” Corann said as he took a few steps forward, moving to pace with Nemea – not to entirely exclude Sol, but to give her a reprieve from his hotter-than-the-sun personality. “I’m one of the Chosen,” he added as an afterthought. The sudden appearance of almost half a million Chosen when the race had been on the brink of extinction had partially changed the face of the continent, altering political structures, impacting geographic areas, sending tremors throughout everything with enough sense to be self-aware and more than a few things that weren’t. What he was declaring went far beyond common knowledge, yet in his statement was the tacit admission that his people weren’t the center of the world and that Namea had arrived by boat. Who knew what the odd looking elf was familiar with?<br/><br/>When the trio entered the Bold Bision, they found several dozen sailors occupying much of the room. The air felt like a massive low pressure zone, as though the inclement storm had sucked it all away to the point that it was hard to breathe, despite the fact that it was not yet the case. Everyone there, human, elf, and even a couple Dulosians, seemed worried and tense and the mammoth bartender, despite being skilled at diplomacy and showing graceful kindness, was impacted. His hand shook a bit on his mug and a sharp listener would hear him muttering something about, “…again. It’s coming again. The world can’t survive another war. It just can’t!” But he suppressed the mutters, ushered the trio to a big table – the only one sizeable enough to accommodate all three and with several chairs to spare – and took their orders graciously.<br/><br/>Corann searched his pockets, finding nothing, and responded in a whisper (for him), “Sir Keep, I have no money. Perhaps some water?” The giant of an inn keeper nodded absently, with no sign of disapproval and turned his attention toward Sol and Namea.<br/>