<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/c2/5a/5b/c25a5b9d4712a0ffad833f263d4d9023.jpg)   </div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Aesa Wyrmborn</span>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=237173.msg11677350#msg11677350)<br/>Dragon-Blooded Elven Arcanist 1 (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=560159)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Ravengro<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>None<br/><hr/><br/>Aesa nodded her head and spoke a few quiet words of thanks to the old ferryman, careful to hide her pointed ears beneath her flame red tresses as she did so.  Kael, the elderly punter, had been good company for the past hour.  She had barely spoken a word but he'd filled the silence, chattering amiably of his family on the far shore of the Coldheart River and describing a few of his more colorful passengers on the small barge while he worked the large wheel, his back bent as the massive, creaking wet rope pulled them lethargically across the rapid mountain river.  There were other crossings, but this way was the safest, not subject to the undertows of the shallow fords or the bandits often reported around the few bridges.<br/><br/>Already those had been a problem.  Just a pair of backwoods ruffians, fortunately, and those more opportunistic than professional.  One had an old crossbow, an antique likely looted from a battlefield or pilfered by some deserter, kept on the wall as a trophy.  She wasn't even sure it would have fired properly, but she didn't give them a chance; a burst of planar sparks and she was behind him, her hands raised in a fan of white-hot fire that dropped both of them to the ground, screaming.  Her sword had finished their villainy permanently.  It was the first time she'd killed since the Sisters and she was surprised again by how easily steel moved through flesh; less surprising were the nightmares that followed.<br/><br/>Fortunately, today seemed likely to be less eventful.  She stepped from the barge onto the muddy shore and handed Kael a pair of worn silver coins.  He was already eager to return to his wife and children.  His business done, he thanked her and turned back to his rope, pulling his coat tight against the fog and chill.  With a smile, she overheard the man still making cheerful conversation despite the empty craft.<br/><br/>Aesa replaced her coin pouch, frowning momentarily as she noticed how thin it was.  Ravengro wasn't far away, fortunately; although she hoped Lorrimor's daughter would include lodging as part of her invitation.  Oberin had been a good teacher and more generous than many, but the wages of an apprentice were paltry.  A small town smith could barely afford to feed and clothe her.  He'd done much better in the city, where she'd first met him, but she understood the man's reasoning in returning to his home; better a hovel surrounded by family than a lonely house.  For him, anyway; she would hardly be inclined to say the same of her remaining kin.<br/><br/>Instead, her own wishes centered on a city workshop like Oberin used to have, all carved stone and ivy, with a cheerfully grinning monstrosity of a gargoyle perched atop, a white hot forge and a real bed at night.  A simple, productive life immersed in her craft.  Her dream of opening a shop in Caliphas would have little hope without the old Professor's generosity, though.  Ten years ago, at the start of her apprenticeship, he'd promised help once she'd been trained.  A small loan, perhaps, or introductions to someone willing to make an investment.  Aesa hadn't taken it too seriously; the man had already done so much for her that she would never dare to ask for more.  She's simply written him of her graduation, confident he would understand her pleasure and share it; she'd proposed a meal when she passed through Ravengro.  The reply had been long in coming and most unwelcome.<br/><br/>An elf - or at least, mostly, although she was loathe to speak much of the rest - Aesa was bound to outlive many of those she knew.  It had not escaped her how Oberin's own lads had changed from troublesome brats to married men, nor how the wrinkles gathered on his face like an oft-read page of poetry, while those passing through town still mistook her for a first year apprentice.  This was the first time she had outlived a mortal friend, however.  She'd known Lorrimor to be an elder, of course, but he had never once struck her as<em>old</em>.  An elf at such a stage of life would have a century left ahead of him.  Aesa shook her head, reaching up to wipe away a tear.<br/><br/>By the time she reached Ravengro the rain had given way to a weak autumn sun.  It had been a decade since she last passed through, despite her best intentions; the life of an apprentice didn't encourage social travel and the professor's work had pulled him every direction but hers.  The town didn't seem much different.  Pleasant enough, although as far from the forested woodland of her childhood as it was from the bustling city she journeyed toward.<br/><br/>She gravitated toward the gathering in the shadow of the massive church.  At first it was merely curiosity; but then she recognized Kendra as the young girl she'd met briefly a decade past.  Surely she wasn't so late as this, to be arriving just in the nick of time to attend the service?  She frowned and looked down at herself, then quickly worked a bit of magic to mend the tears and wear of the days' walk and to erase the evidence of a day spent at work.  Clean and coiffed as though she'd just stepped from a bath in a new pair of clothes, she strode toward the churchyard.