<strong>Giselle Do'Urden <br/>Time; Day 1.  (Assuming morning.)<br/>Location; Merc, Hillsbrow.<br/>Tagged; Daria</strong><br/><br/>"He might have been a thief tis true, but if you truly fear your ruler so much that you can't speak out against him, then there's something wrong with this country.  The monarchy shouldn't be above those they rule, but rather at their mercy since without people to rule, there cannot be a kingdom.  That...sounded better in my head."  Giselle said, a bit embarrassed since her profound little message had somehow gotten lost in translation.  Still, the intent was there at least, and that was all that mattered as she listened to what Daria had to say while taking a measure of her appearance and gear.  She certainly seemed capable, but that was yet to be seen.  She was a complete stranger her, and hadn't been told off by anyone for being half Drow, although her appearance said she was a full dark elf, save for her eyes which were brown.  Most dark elves Giselle knew had red, her father being the only one with lavender orbs.  Still, that mattered little as she sighed, realizing that Daria was just a grunt in a way, mindlessly obeying orders without bothering to question the source.  She had seen too many soldiers fall into traps and political schemes that way, good people at that, most of the time.  But, she wasn't here to change someone's way of life, she was here....running from her own issues if she were to be honest with herself.  Following the woman silently, Giselle did owe the guard a word of thanks for the information.  "Thanks for telling me what you have so far.  My name is Giselle Do'Urden, I'm a ranger and I know a spell or two as well.  Who are you if you don't mind my asking?"  She asked as she followed the captain into the inn, wondering just what kind of world she had wound up in.<br/><br/>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/><strong>Neria Zathrieal<br/>Time;  Day 1, morning<br/>Location; Merc, Fields of Faraway<br/>Tagged; Solo</strong><br/><br/>Neria was a bit bruised from her fall into the dirt but was otherwise perfectly fine.  She had heard his surprised comment to himself and shook her head in amusement, her sea green eyes lighting up at the thrill of a new world and what it might hold for her, unaware of her dear friend Giselle dropping in at the same time.  "I must look quite the sight to you, having fallen through a dimensional rift from my home world into this one.  I must apologize for that, I didn't think I'd run into someone so soon after my...trip.  I'm fine, just a bit bruised but nothing that won't slow me down.  So, this world is called Merc?  And I'm in the Fields of Faraway?  Kind of odd names, but it'll do.  My name is Neria Zathrieal, I'm a light elf cleric to my own world's elven god that goes by the name of Corellan Larathain, the god of war and protection back home.  Who might you be?"  She asked, holding out her right hand which was covered in a metal gauntlet that matched the material of her armor.  Just because she was a cleric didn't mean she didn't know how to defend herself, but it wasn't her first choice in dealing with a situation....unless there were orcs about.  Then you had something to worry about, but she blocked any such thoughts before they became too much of a problem upon this first meeting with this strange looking human before her....as far as his hair went anyway.  The breeze that passed by was nice on her dirt smeared face, and Neria was quite content to simply stand there and let nature pass her by, having the usual love affair all elves of her species had with the wild places of the world, any world given her current situation.  Still, she wasn't flighty or an air head or anything like that, just she enjoyed the little things when she could.