Miranda Bradley (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=904699)<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v484/FujinAkari/13a28594a8a7faffb905ebfe050bbdc3_zpsgaadhado.jpg)</div><br/><em>Miranda flushed slightly as she took a look at herself in the mirror, biting her lower lip petulantly as she allowed her eyes to trace the curves of her own body; shamelessly blatant beneath the tight robes and drape-like skirt which did literally nothing to hide her hips and thighs.  She tore her magenta eyes away from the mirror and looked longingly at her travelling robes, dark brown and volumptuous, form concealing and forgettable.</em><br/><br/>"I... I wonder what Headmistress Valinta would do if I just... forgot to wear this outfit?"<em>she asked herself.  She shook her head briefly, remembering the feel of the lash against her lower back and the savage pronouncement which had accompanied her punishment.  She swallowed, remembering the words once again, reciting them as a shameful litany under her breath:</em>"Miranda... seeing as you have trained with the battleclergy of Nrathor for over a decade and still seem incapable of overcoming opponents who have less than a year of training, you are hearby deemed unworthy of representing the Strength of our Mighty Savior.  Instead, you are tasked to travel to the Lich Lord's Keep and attach yourself anyone of strength you should find.  Make yourself of use to them and spread our good name by empowering their victory and satisfying their desire, and know that their will shall override your own, as strength must always surplant weakness."<br/><br/><em>She took a halting breath and shook her head, biting her lip slightly and giving her foot a petulant little stomp and then whirled, her dress swirling up slightly from the abrupt movement.  Heading towards the waiting room she let kept her eyes averted and her pace purposeful.  Her cheeks burned deeply as she imagined every passerby was staring at her and imagining bending her over a barrel, and she moved quickly before anyone could catch her in conversation, wanting to get the waiting room's doors between herself and any of the guards and support staff for the competition.<br/><br/>Eventually, she made it to the waiting room and let her eyes trace over the people already there.  She marked out a few of the stronger looking people but then immediately looked away if anyone stared at her, drawing a hand up and pressing it across the tight silk stretched across her breasts, trying to keep her nipples from being so very visible.  </em>"H- hello... I'm Miranda.  I'll be servi- erm... healing... some of you?"<em>She mutters before taking a seat next to a cowled woman with a bow and a slight build, feeling safer next to someone not obviously stronger than her... no reason to rush into serving the strong... just yet.</em>