<div class="floatright">(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/459948451589783553/772688577023705088/iorveth.jpg)</div><strong>Mirk</strong>(http://link to the post with your character's sheet)<br/><strong>HP:</strong>51/51<strong>AC:</strong>22<strong>Saves:</strong>Fort +5 Ref +12 Will +8<br/><strong>Resistances/Immunities:</strong>+2 to disbelieve illusion; +2 vs enchantment<strong>Senses:</strong>darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +15<br/><strong>Notes:</strong>N/A<br/><hr/><br/>Mirk's train of thought was thoroughly derailed as the aasimar he'd woken up launched himself at the half-elf like a bolt from a crossbow. In hindsight, while lurking in the corner had given him a good spot to observe everyone from, he had, quite literally, backed himself into a corner. And while his reflexes were fast enough that he had at least a fifty fifty shot of getting clear in time, that was only true if he'd made a snap decision. The fact that he needed even a moment to decide whether to let himself be glomped or not sealed his fate – Artemis was clearly utterly devoid of such equivocations.<br/><br/>And just in case that weren't enough, the necromancer was no less shy about... well, just about anything else. The onslaught of affection was something Mirk wasn't accustomed to, save when he paid for soft company with the coin he earned, and even then, he never asked for or received any such gestures to the scarred side of his face. The attention made his ears go pink, so much so he felt sure they'd glow in the dark, despite his best efforts to school his expression.<br/><br/>How had they<em>ever</em>managed to get anything done in the first place again? (Well, other than each other...)<br/><br/>Still, he couldn't<em>quite</em>bring himself to discourage Artemis, and the necromancer did have enough sense, surprisingly, to settle down... somewhat.<br/><br/>Despite the awareness of just how close Artemis' lips were to his ear, he attempted to regain his focus, taking a steadying breath as he committed to memory Sabian's answers.<br/><br/>The truth of the matter was that, in a world such as theirs, it would be an easy thing to acquire a little magic that could make a kidnapper look like a drow slaver, and by the time anyone caught onto the fact that things weren't as they seemed, well, the trail would be cold as the Crown of the World. It was entirely possible that this was exactly what it seemed to be... but Mirk would have rather looked like a fool for at least vetting what might seem like a far-fetched notion than fail to even ask the questions that might get him to the truth of the matter.<br/><br/>"A question for the group, first – I'm unfamiliar with the skill sets of the ladies, but if either of you are good with animals or divination magic, I'd like to know – if so, I'd like to request a personal item of the Lady Mercans." For a bloodhound or for scrying.<br/><br/>He turned his attention back to Sabian, once that was addressed. "Additionally, I would ask you if there is anything about your wife other than her connection to you that would make her... valuable. A little talent for magic, for instance, or a storied bloodline. Even if it wasn't anything more than a story passed through the family that no one really believed."