<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c3/30/41/c330414e795e3aa8aebfe648f2a5cf76.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Isabella (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=303516.msg14822141#msg14822141)</span><br/><strong>HP</strong>:18/18<strong>Status</strong>: Seated at a table in the<em>Vermilion Quaff</em>, clearly confused<br/><strong>AC</strong>:13<strong>Tagging</strong>: Ezi, Kayla, Orlith<br/><br/><br/><strong>Actions:</strong><br/><strong>Roll:</strong><br/><strong>damage:</strong><br/><hr/><br/>"Oh, hel-" Isabella began before the strange woman in the revealing armor spurted a series of statements that made little to not sense to the woman. Kayla took her seat as Isabella curiously eyed her, looking back at Ezi for some sort of guidance.<br/><br/>"I-I fear I don't understand," she said with an exasperated smile. "You want to me follow me?" the question hung in the air, more confirming to herself what she had just heard rather than a direct question.<br/><br/>"But why?"<br/><br/>From across the Inn, at the bar, Pocic was staring wide-eyed at the Tiefling, who had called herself Orlith, down part of the mug before letting the remainder flow over the rest of her vibrant pink flesh that gave it a slick sheen.<br/><br/>"Hey, hey! What's she doin'?!" a raspy, haggardly voice called from across the bar. Pocic's wife, Igrid was busy sweeping round one of the tables when she saw the barbarian's display. "Pocic! You done let that horn-head make a damned mess in here!" the old lady huffed. Pocic raised his arms in a<em>what the hell do you want me to do about it?</em>pose.<br/><br/><hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a7/3d/90/a73d9049f9f46da5e90aa8174a96cb69.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Iclyn (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=303516.msg14831483#msg14831483)</span><br/><strong>HP</strong>:35/35<strong>Status</strong>: Waiting within the antechamber of the Weeping Matron's Temple<br/><strong>AC</strong>:15<strong>Tagging</strong>: Wren<br/><br/><br/><strong>Actions:</strong><br/><strong>Roll:</strong><br/><strong>damage:</strong><br/><hr/><br/>Iclyn grabbed Wren's hand on the last of her pats and gave it a slight squeeze and a soft smile, an intimidating sight due to the Tiefling's natural fangs, yet somehow still sweet. She pressed her side into her small, close friend in a tiny embrace, the Tiefling's bust just barely brushing against the top of Wren's nut brown hair.<br/><br/>"I envy your ability to always see the good things. Sometimes I wish-" Iclyn was cut off by the sound of movement towards the Speaker's door. She quickly let go of Wren's hand.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e5/b4/60/e5b46012a6774485a1c2d8dd0e8faff7.jpg)</div>The door opened slowly with a creak, revealing a tall human figure within. Perhaps it was the knee length boots she wore, but she her legs seemed to be impossibly long, strong, firm and sturdy just like the rest of her. Seraphina wasn't a young woman, but a strong regiment of training and discipline had allowed her to age more gracefully than most. Seeing her two acolytes waiting outside she gave a respectful nod.<br/><br/>"Acolyte Wren, Acolyte Iclyn. Please come inside," she waved them inside. Turning her back she made for a small disc shaped table that had three cushioned seats situated around it for the occasion. "Take a seat," her smooth, yet firm tone echoed in the mostly empty space of her room as she took a seat. Entering inside Iclyn could see naught but the table Seraphina sat at, a small bed that was similar in style to the thinly cushioned stone beds that the acolytes of the temple rested on at night. There was also an armor rack that featured numerous long swords, shields, and spears. But perhaps most prominently was a mighty glaive with a black handle that was laced with gold trim and a milk white edge at it's end.<br/><br/>Seraphina tented her fingers atop the table and watched them with intent eyes. "Tell me how your training goes acolytes."