The faithful servant of Urgathoa stood in silence before the gathered group, her form only just barely recognizable as female beneath the heavy gray cloak and blackened armor. The softly polished silver hilt of her slender sword was the sole point of her silhouette that broke free from the encompassing weight of her cloak. The figure clearly knew the driver; she had been patiently standing near him as the others arrived. Urgasburg couldn't have sent a more grim shepherd to retrieve the assembled adventurers but in some weird way, she was also the perfect envoy to embody the growing city. Here was everything that Urgasburg was poured into a single soul: the perfect mix of undeath and mortality and a cold, logical dedication to order. Not that the others would know such things; everything about her was a mystery that she had no intention of helping them solve. Any emotions she might have were perfectly hidden by the featureless gray mask she wore and her stiff, unflinching posture betrayed no hints to how she felt about these newcomers. But behind the mask, unnatural blue eyes studied those gathered with killer efficiency.<br/><br/>New blood was rare, though not unheard of. Usually it was the lowest of the low that thought Urgasburg would be the one place that would take them in once they wore out their welcome everywhere else. Those individuals usually turned up dead in the gutter within the week. But these people? They were different. Zora could feel the divine auras of two of them - neither pure by any means but still enough to cause the woman beneath the mask to grit her teeth out of some instinctual terror hidden in her blood. Holy men were always the biggest problems. So many failed to grasp that their own predilections for murder of everything they deemed 'evil' were unwelcome in Urgasburg. Zora enjoyed killing that certain brand of truce breaker the most. The irony made it special.<br/><br/>Standing before her were a pair of holy servants and their despicable holy symbols that caused a dull throb behind Zora's eyes every time she settled on them for any noticeable amount of time, but somehow they were not creatures she found most disgusting. It was the woman, freely prancing about, flirting, and putting herself on display that struck a nerve even mortal foes and their gods could not. Urgasburg was not a place for beauty. This woman would learn that just as Zora had. What beauty Zora possessed was stolen long ago, the enchanting features of her father locked beneath a mask and the confident, young spirit beaten out of her. Now she was nothing but a tool, one without the weakness of beauty to hold her back. A small smile formed underneath the gray mask, though its wearer made no motion to show her amusement. Watching the woman learn how this new world she had just walked into worked would be indescribably satisfying.<br/><br/>Of course, no discussion of qualities Zora found obnoxious would be complete without the red-skinned devil that had somehow found his way here. Why him? The dhampir woman asked herself that question so many times on the way here, her arms folded in quiet contemplation the entire trip as she tried her best to ignore her traveling companion. Could her superiors not see the man she saw? That frustratingly cocky moron that only made things harder than they had to be? How many feuds had he started? How many creatures gathered in shadowed rooms to plot his death? And yet he still smiled and acted like he was having the time of his life. It defied reason. Zora hated that.<br/><br/>"How about we tie your tail to one of the axles and drag you back?" The dark figure finally stepped forward, provoked into speaking by her sheer annoyance. Her voice was detached but forceful with a noticeable lilt of nobility. "I will ride with the driver," Zora proclaimed. She had no intention of cramming herself into a cabin with two priests and a woman that probably couldn't be trusted to keep her hands to herself - as amusing as it might have been to watch that chaos unfold. Nodding toward the four newcomers, Zora continued, "You four will ride inside the coach. As for you..." Zora extended her arm and pointed toward Grosvenor, pouring as much malice as she could muster into the simple gesture. "I do not care what you do as long as I don't have to look at you or hear you." No matter how many times she snapped at the tiefling that plagued her life, it never stopped feeling good. Part of her might even miss him if he tragically fell off the wagon, had his skull crushed under its weight, and died. Zora could only hope she would be lucky enough to find out if that were true or not.<br/><br/>"I will assume all of you are familiar with the laws of Urgasburg and the Silver Truce." Zora's voice was noticeably different now that business was at hand, something akin to the practiced commanding tone of an officer ordering their troops. "Follow them and you will not have to see me again. Break them and you won't be so fortunate." Zora turned back toward the stagecoach, prepared to climb atop the wooden vehicle when she stopped and looked over her shoulder, remembering the caveat to her speech that had changed in recent months. "One tone for dawn. Two tones for dusk."