Toria strolled through the dawn lit streets of Eveningstar, the town slowly coming to life as light began pouring into the world, banishing the dark. While she had been staying here, the Harper had made a habit of calling into the Morninglord's temple each morning. While not one of the deities that supported her organisation, the woman had nonetheless decided that it couldn't hurt to start each day with the blessings of a god of light. If nothing else it was a reason to get up each morning while she awaited instruction from the Harpers, close enouh to the mountain pass in the Stormhorns to mobilise if need be, or if her estranged father in nearby Arabel wished to contact her while staying out of his lawful family's hair. More importantly, it would serve as a source of stability should Rois wish to contact her, his own assignments having sent him to some far off corner of Faerun for now.<br/><br/>Today, as many other days, she was clothed in simpler attire, merely plain travelling clothes. Her normal armor would more than likely have been inappropriate for morning worship, its familiar weight instead of resting on her body currently was contained within her mundane backpack, which in turn was hanging from her less than mundane broomstick, floating in the air above and behind her, high enough to deter even the tallest of thieves. She would carry it herself, but it always seemed heavier carried than worn. Having reached her destination, she instructed the stick to remain outside and at a higher altitude until her return.<br/><br/>Toria, having been in Eveningstar for a few months now, said her usual greetings to several contacts she had made in the temple. Not priests mind you, but folk of the city who offered their prayers on a similar shedule to the woman's own. Probably for actual worship though, rather than routine.