<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Gill Sans;"></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br/><strong>Greeting:</strong> Hello! While awaiting my application outcome I’ve decided to start a thread roleplay to pass the time. Any may join, just jump right in. Please separate OOC speech from IC speech to keep everything neat and concise. It’s an open ended world, so feel free to build. Remember! This is just for fun, so detailed information set out before hand is not necessary. Thanks for your interest!<br/><br/><strong>Premise:</strong> This is a medieval fantasy roleplay following the campaign of varied sellswords. Each traveller has been hired by a mysterious benefactor: a man who remains unseen and has only contact through letters delivered by riders and varied confidants.  The party members have congregated at the first camp, as directed, and are only now meeting.<br/><br/>This will be set in a D&amp;D and Forgotten Realms type world. Your character may be, but not limited to: a paladin, a mage, a monk, a bard, a warrior, a sorcerer, a witch doctor, a cleric, a priest, a ranger, a rogue, a druid. </div><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Nevae</strong></span><br/>❄  ❄  ❄</div><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Night ebbed, and slumber along with it. Dawn crept in, slowly taking it’s place, bringing forth a natural clock that was imbedded in diurnal creatures. As if on que, moments before first light, thick eyelashes fluttered opened. Sigh like gasp, barely audible, parted petal hued lips as if breathing life into a forever-restful body. Slender figure rose, arms reaching above head and smile befitting lips much like a cat stretching after a comfortable nap. Slow, careful movements worked skilled fingers through lengthy locks, detangling any knots that might have accrued from the night past. Quietly, cloak of cerulean and winter was befitted around lithe shoulders. In like fashion, adornments of silver and precious gem were replaced along fingers, wrists, forehead and throat. Properly attired, if such revealing garments could be so called, hands parted the hide tent and Nevae emerged.<br/><br/>It was then that the early morning light fell on her, she who was still smiling. From icy eyes, to light attire, to pale hair; her figure was extremely out of place amidst the dismal camp of soot, soldier and soil. Porcelain skin, white and completely unmarred, was equally juxtaposed amidst scarred and battle hardened warriors. To further her discordance with her surroundings, deceptively youthful features aged her naught more than seventeen years—barely an adult in many regions of the realm. However strange her appearance within the encampment, Nevae had yet to be questioned. The mysterious benefactor had seen fit to hire her services, and she was always pleasant, well-mannered and friendly. <br/><br/>That moment was no exception. A nameless soldier walked passed Neave towards her tent. Blue eyes slid over the woman’s face, marking the stress that was clearly defined in strikingly feminine features. The cleric dipped her head in quiet greeting. Her voice was soft, near whisper while mindful of others that might not have woken, <strong>“Morning.”</strong><br/><br/>Despite greeting, the shining woman did not linger for idle conversation. Instead, she sought the small gathering that had already congregated in the early hours around the fire. Vision of frost swept across the scene, quickly taking note. Some stayed back in the forest edge, practicing discipline in the routine of her early morning meditation- such dedication that Nevae found unbefitting to her own personal desires. A handful of others were closer to the fire. In time, it seemed, to watch another leave.  A man rose, nameless again, sliding past her and towards his tent. As he walked past her, she nodded and murmured her hellos, but continued on her way. <br/><br/>When she had entered the circle of fellow mercenaries, it was then her voice rose to more audible levels, having clearly distinguished that the majority of the company had already rose.  Smile, ever-present, remained fixed the true on bow shaped lips. <strong>”Fair morning.”</strong><br/><br/>Her hand raised, an offering to the group. Within delicate fingers was grasped a few packets containing honey and spices to add to morning oats. The result ignited senses to a famished state and then quell them, leaving companions well sated. <strong>“Did someone say breakfast? I’m famished.”</strong><br/><br/>It was an invitation for any to join her.</div>