<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/c2/5a/5b/c25a5b9d4712a0ffad833f263d4d9023.jpg)   </div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Aesa Wyrmborn</span>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=237173.msg11677350#msg11677350)<br/>Dragon-Blooded Elven Arcanist 1 (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=560159)<br/><hr/><br/>Aesa examined the rabble with narrowed, flashing crimson eyes as her hand flexed on the silver plated handle of the casket.  She took a step forward, but was drawn up short; her fury expelled itself in words, but her grief clenched her hand, unwilling to release her friend.  She looked over the crowd for the differences between upset neighbors and men working themselves up to violence; weaponry, primarily, but also the fury men like this needed to kill.  She'd seen enough of both in the past, and she held little tolerance for those who would threaten a funeral procession.<br/><br/>Instead, she contented herself for the moment with simple words.  They had served her well in the past.  A breath, then Aesa spoke.  "He was not.  Lorrimor worked all his life to protect your legacies.  Ancestors you've forgotten, mothers and fathers of your mothers and fathers, their graves robbed and ruined, he preserved in memory and tried to restore.  He banished whatever dark things gathered there...is that not what you wish for your own kin?  That they be remembered, kept safe and preserved?"  She scowled and looked from one to another, pausing on each long enough for them to know their faces would be remembered.  "No.  You are the ones disturbing the dead upon their last journey, upsetting their kin, and fouling your own honor.  Give Ms. Lorrimor your apologies, then away with you."<br/><br/><br/>Diplomacy 13 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=80933)