<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Liraniel (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2310017)</span><br/><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/05/Winter_witch.jpg)</div><strong>Class/Level : </strong>Level 1 Winter Witch<br/><br/><strong>HP : </strong>7<br/><strong>AC : </strong>13<br/><br/><strong>Positive Conditions : </strong>Endure Elements - (Cold, Constant)<br/><strong>Negative Conditions : </strong><br/><hr/><span class="bbc_u">Mechanical Actions + Dicerolls</span><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Perception 20</div><div class="spoiler_body">At 2020-10-22 19:41:05, Crensler (uid: 63766) rolls: 1d20a3 Result: 20 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=150011)</div></div><hr/><br/>Liraniel wasn't sure what to say to the dark elf N'trish'ta and her declaration that the gods believed in her, despite the fact she hadn't said anything about not believing in the gods.  Well, she supposed her words<em>could</em>have been taken that way, but it didn't matter either way.  The other elf was trying to reassure her, for some reason, so she felt no offense over it.  Cassia's lack of respect for the supposedly sentient blade, however, had obviously offended some of those around them, which wasn't at all surprising either.  The religious could be far too sensitive about their sacred objects, after all.  One man in particular caught her eye, though not for long, annoyingly enough.  Cassia seemed to know him, if her string of expletives was anything to go by, but she didn't bother asking about it.  It was none of her business, after all.<br/><br/>"I do not think it matters any longer," she remarked regarding the sword and it's lack of moving on from its last owner.  "It will either select someone new one day, or it will not."  They would eventually arrive at the town square, where the witch was surprised to see a familiar mark upon the belly button of one of the dancers.  An agent of the Riftwardens, perhaps?  Should she approach her?  And how to do so without drawing attention.  "Excuse me," she said to the others as she approached the stage, ostensibly to enjoy the show, but in reality to get closer to the dancer in question.  "Hello," she said to the woman.  "I... I like your tattoo."  Her cheeks gained a dusting of pink at how idiotic that sounded.  She hated subterfuge, mostly because she wasn't any good at it.  "It's... unique."