Tasaril was still grumbling at the other people – mostly at the men among them, lecherous old cleric, staring! – when they were walking to St. Cuthbert’s temple. Seeing the other temples on the way he was sure the gods had it out for her too, with the weather being so rainy. Despite this she took note of the large cathedral of Wee Jas. She was the goddess of magic (and death)... and had the largest temple in the region too... there was bound to be some information stored within those impressive walls, if the young bard could just get to it. Not in her current state of dress, though. Tasaril also explained to Sera that her curse wasn’t contagious.<br/><br/>The temple they reached, St. Cuthbert’s was less impressive than Wee Jas’, but at that moment Tasaril wasn’t caring about many other things than getting out of the rain, and getting some hot water to change back. Dry ground at last!<br/><br/>The voice stating that chaos and evil had no power there startled her – and reminded her that St. Cuthbert’s dogma was a bit too rigid for her liking. Not a real problem, unless the issue was forced, like when it came to adultery. When she caught the glance from the older cleric she snorted though, and ran her hand through her hair, flicking a few drops of water on the temple floor, idly wondering whether or not the god would notice the chaotic pattern they left before drying up.<br/><br/>The cleric left before she could ask for hot water – she should have been less concerned with his god’s philosophy – but the food was fine, and the wine a delight.<br/><br/><em>Quite beautiful – for her age. I wonder if she has a daughter. </em>Tasaril raised her hand at the mentioning of a new shirt. “That’s me. Could I have some hot water too, mylady?” The bard was as respectful and polite as she could – her slight dislike for the more rigid dogma the woman followed overriden by her geenral attitude towards the fairer sex.<br/><br/>After changing in the side room – in more ways than one - Tasaril returned to the main room, and sat down again, listening to the explanations. The mentioned payment did not leave him untouched – he was the son of merchants, after all – but more than that his curiosity and the promise of an adventure worthy of a song drew him in. Not to mention that saving orphans from evil kidnappers was exactly the sort of selfless heroic deed that drew the attention of impressionable young women to a hero...<br/><br/>“Of course we will do our utmost to save the children, mylady!” Tasaril was already composing part of the ballad that would immortalize their deeds in the back of his head.<br/>