<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/dgrj9Ci.jpg?1)</div><strong>Isma The Fool</strong><br/>The Slayer - Lvl 1<br/><strong>HP</strong>:  23 / 23<br/><strong>XP</strong>:  0 / 8<br/><strong>Thirst</strong>:  0<br/><strong>Conditions</strong>:  None<hr/><br/>Isma had been a fresh face amongst the traveling group of adventurers. Granted, the same could be said about most of the travelers, it wasn't like they were all one unified group or guild, but the foppish jester was particularly new, as no one gathered there would actually remember her being amongst the caravan when they first set off. Nor would they recall her jumping to join their fellowship at one of the towns they passed as a few other bright eyed townsfolk-turned-adventurers had opted to do. As far as anyone could tell the strangely dressed woman had just appeared one day in the midst of an encounter with a group of goblins, the jester dancing about and slicing through the tiny creatures alongside everyone as if she had been there the entire time. No one bothered to say anything about it, or at least the ones that had were all dead now...then again most everyone was dead now weren't they? An odd bit of business that was.<br/><br/>And while the pyro show was brilliant, and the welcome into town suitably inviting, Isma couldn't help but feel on edge. Not because of the gruesome deaths of their traveling companions, no they were just nameless extras in this play anyways, nor because of the grim darkness slowly approaching from the west, threatening to envelop this small town and soon the entire world thereafter. No, for her it was the Thirst...always the Thirst. Amongst the larger group it had been easier to stealthily sate herself, the sheer number of bodies making for plenty of hiding places to take a quick sip as she fought. However as their numbers thinned out it only got harder and harder, and the last foes they had encountered before coming into town had been bloody gargoyles! How was she supposed to quench her thirst with powdered stone!?<br/><br/>The night was spent reveling, almost violently so, the masked fool playing her part brilliantly as she spun and stumbled about the inn, telling seedy jokes and tossing herself about in prat falls that brought uproarious laughter from the easily entertained patrons of the bar. All of it a mere distraction, the villagers thinking she was distracting them from the grim forces surrounding them...no...a distraction intended solely for herself. She drank and sang and dance and slapped the plump bottoms of busty tavern wenches, all so that it might keep her mind off the Thirst, even knowing none would truly satisfy that itch deep in the base of her throat. She would be a fool to think it could, but that was fine, she<em>was</em>a fool after all...<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The next morning Isma had risen earlier than most...or perhaps she had never gone to bed at all...either way the others would descend the stairs to find her gathered with a wandering bard lazily plucking at his loot, the fool swaying heavily as she sang a song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mA5rQJmLa_M) to a completely empty tavern, though weirdly enough all of the chairs had been pulled back slightly from their tables, as if there was an invisible audience sitting at them, "Oh...good morrow friends, you're all looking quite refreshed...robust even..." she cooed, waving away her new acquaintance as she weaved her way between her companions, greeting them all with a hand carved smile, seeming to evaluate them all before motioning for them to lead the way forward with a sweeping bow, "well then, let's not keep the poor old man waiting then"<br/><br/>The briefing went by as uneventfully as one could imagine. They were to "root out the evil", whatever the hells that even meant, and would be "compensated" for a job well done. Isma didn't mind the vagueness of their contract. For her it was secondary reason for coming here anyways, she'd let the others fret about objectives and payment. As the emerged from the hall Isma let out a small chuckle as their mysterious savior finally spoke, giving him a tiny applause with her fingers that couldn't have possibly felt less genuine, "Oh my, our silent savior speaks at last! Oh and we get to be associates! Such an interesting title, absolutely dripping with implication..." she cooed, weaving through her companions again as she made her way up to the long haired gentleman, reaching him by the time he claimed he would yield to their experience as adventurers. With a gentle yet firm grip she suddenly reached up with one hand to catch him under the chin, her thumb and fingers pressing into his cheeks to squeeze the grimace on his face into a pucker, "good, I do enjoy a man who yields...but first..." she mused, turning his face to look at Yulia again, "that woman, so beautiful and busty, no man with a working cock would scowl at a woman like that without a particular reason. So either your cock doesn't work, which would be a shame in of itself, or there's some baggage here we're not privy too...honestly I could care less what it is, but I'd rather it not muddy up our proceedings here, so go ahead and give her a great...big...smile...and keep your nose tilted at it's regular angle when looking at her from here on..." she mused, the seemingly loose headed woman apparently more observant than she let on, "anyhoo, while you lovely people are shoring up our defenses and buying supplies, I think I'll go scout out that graveyard, see what kind of beasts we'll be dancing with in this valley..." she remarked back to Seras, casually releasing her grip on the mage.