Late, not exactly unusual, though she was more than fashionably late. Well, a place called the Harlot's Crotch did not exactly entreat her better nature, a venue that she would not step into, even with the best reputation. Unfortunately the best reputation is not what this place offered. Two years ago she would have petitioned for a change of name for the place, now... Lookshy, the River country, so far from family, so far from home in Chiaroscuro, and well so far from where she wanted to be. But this is what fate had dealt her, she was alive and she was accepted for what she was. She now stood with an invitation, a friend, and her brother before the Harlot's Crotch praying that the implied diseases that could be found in such a place were just that, implied and not factual. "Well, what happens in the Harlot's Crotch stays in the Harlot's Crotch they say." Drawing her cloak in tight, she raises a foot to the step. Just as her foot lands upon the step, two men carrying a third between them exit from the front. The third man was injured, dead. With a thought, Imara decides to make her best impression with those inside. From the looks of the dangling gent, he did not die of natural causes, hell not even by subtle causes. Turning to her compatriots, "Bind the blade for appearances, unstring your bow. We are hardly defenseless without them, it is just a nice gesture." Following her own lead, Imara reduces her bow to a pretty stick by placing the string within her belt pouch. Once again she mounted the steps with all the grace of a dancer. Vedaa and Witness both stepped forward one to each side of her leading in a protective fashion through the door.<br/>Tall, dark haired young man, chiseled features with a strong chin. Dark hair darkest black, as the coal before the blaze. Naturally warm temperature, his skin carries a constant faded sunburn appearance.  Standing in stark contrast to the ruddy appearance of his skin the green jade bracers sport an orichalcum setting with a brilliant ruby lens seen easily from the short sleeves of the longcloak. Massive red jade blade hangs almost casually upon his back, while his heavy, crimson longcoat allows fine rich clothing that appears to be concealing something heavier beneath. Vedaa steps to the right, walking just a step ahead of his younger sister, diverting leers and approaching hands as well. A stoic all business look burns deep in his eyes.<br/>To Imara's left, Witness smiles, walking with ease and a bit of wonder at the press and diversity of the clientelle. Imposing and powerful, but not threatening or challenging, Witness observes while offering no access to the striking woman between them. Witness steps up to the bar, offering the letter and gaining two drinks to go upstairs with. As a second thought, he procures a third offering it to Imara, then with one in each hand Witness guides the three to the stairs, falling to the rear as Vedaa takes lead up the stairs. Strong and tall the dark skinned man bore hair so black it was almost blue in the light, Shiny bright  black eyes peered about the room. Witness had chosen not to unstring his bow, but had made it a point to cross it over his head so that his bow was across him left shoulder to right hip. His long sleeves conceal heavy adornment upon wrist and lower arm.<br/>Imara in contrast only came up to the shoulders of her compatriots, walking with her bow as a walkingstick. Dark permanent tattoos enhance her emerald green eyes. Sweeping but loose off white linens, that drape from a golden chain about her neck, bare belly, and leg separated only by her  white linen loincloth exposing both hips. Dark shoulder length hair capped in golden tips, heavy bronze hairband crests just above the brow. Emerald Green eyes peer from a strong face. Well cared for selfbow, and goldenbracers covered well in off white linens grace the final decorations, heavy golden earrings adorn her lobes.<br/>Stepping into the room, the three are casually caressed by the thoughts of another. A bit of surprise as Vedaa raises his hand to the sword upon his back and Witness scans the room quickly seeking that which threatens. A light hand upon each arm, stops their reactions, allowing both to step back behind Imara. Who had focused her will to understanding the intent of the room as she entered. She was surprised by the gentle touch of thought, but it was not hostile. Her understanding of the ancient language was comforted by the message received. Stepping another step forward from her retinue, Imara bowed a bit, "Sorry we are late, I was uncomfortable approaching the Harlot, what with the name implied. I see that the reputation is accurate for what I am seeing though. I am Imara, perhaps we can come to an agreement?"