<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/cc/Kathra.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Kathra Brighthammer</strong></span></span><br/><strong>HP:</strong>12/12 AC: 15<br/><strong>Spell slots:</strong>1: 2/2<br/><strong>Spells prepared:</strong>:<em>cure wounds</em>,<em>grease</em><br/><strong>Effects:</strong>Magical Tinkering 2/2<br/><strong>Actions:</strong><br/><hr/><br/>Kathra had settled in to the driver's seat of one of the wagons at the start of their journey, handling the large vehicle and its team of oxen with the confidence of long experience. She seemed content to watch the road roll by, listening to the creaking of the wagon and the lowing of the oxen as they plodded along.<br/><br/>She kept her armour on as they travelled, of course - they had been hired to guard the wagon, and that meant being ready for anything, although "anything" really mostly just meant "bandits". The Sword Coast weather was a lovely change from her chilly mountain home, though, and so she had eschewed her usual fur stole and woolen jacket for much lighter linen garb. A pendant of two linked silver rings - the symbol of Berronar Truesilver, mother of all dwarves - hung from a silver chain around her neck and bounced against her mail-clad chest, emitting a silvery glow that was hard to see in the daylight but as bright as a candle at night. And somehow, there was always a smell of freshly baked bread around her.<br/><br/>Kathra gave a friendly wave to Lynnara when she emerged from the trees, with apples this time. "Great find, lass!" she called down to the elf. "And I'll get that bird you found plucked, cleaned and roasted for dinner tonight, don't you worry about that!" She patted a bag that sat next to her at the driver's seat, beside the bullock whip for controlling the wagon. She knew the elf wasn't much of a conversationalist, but it was pleasant to have somebody looking out for them on the ground, and bringing in some fresh food.<br/><br/>She shuffled around in her seat to watch the girls chat about apples, smiling at their youthful camaraderie. "We've got the makings for a pie," she chimed in, "but not the facilities. I suppose we<em>could</em>build an oven on the road, but that's a lot of work for not a very good result. No, what we want," she mused, tapping her thick baker's fingers together, "is turnovers. A simple dough, fold in the apple with some spices, fry it up on a campfire - perfect for a sweet treat on the road. I'm sure I've got some cinnamon in one of my packs." The dwarven matron had arrived in Neverwinter with almost a wagon's worth of cookware, and had no intention of letting her new friends go hungry on the road.