<div class="floatright">(http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg608/ysariel66/sorceresssmall.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Shirin</span><br/><strong>Human Sorcerer 1</strong><br/><br/>HP: 12/12<br/>AC: 12 (flat-footed 10)<br/>CMD: 11 (flat-footed 9)<br/>Init: 4<br/>Saves: Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 2<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spells</div><div class="spoiler_body">Spells/day: Lv 1: 3+1<br/><br/>Lv 0: Detect Magic, Light, Prestidigitation, Read Magic<br/>Lv 1: Color Spray, Grease</div></div><hr/><br/><br/>Shirin is indeed wondering if this is for real, after blinking at the inn's undignified sign, wrinkling her nose at the stench of stale sweat and half-eaten leftovers within, and tiptoeing around drunken louts snoring and snorting like the establishment's namesake. Perhaps great enterprises often do have humble beginnings, but this strikes her as being just a little<em>too </em>humble and stinks of a practical joke besides, some kind of hazing ritual to torment prospective Pathfinder initiates. This ungodly hour is far too young, and for that matter far too chilly for a young sorceress dressed in barely enough clothing to qualify for smallclothes by most women's standards -- a bikini top and loincloth and scarcely anything else. It was scandalous, but less so than being seen in peasant's clothes, which felt far too honest an admission of her once-great family's fallen fortunes.<br/><br/>She almost pulls her gossamer cape about her for warmth, before willing herself not to: it would not do to present herself before the Master of Scrolls huddling against the cold like a lost child. And if she is to win a bright future for her family then she must endure far greater torments than this. She wills herself to set aside thoughts of such physical discomfort, and visualize the vast wealth that will surely herald a new golden age for her family and the estate she is to inherit. It doesn't warm her much, but it does take her mind off the chill as she walks proud and upright, hands folded demurely before her, to the center of the room.<br/><br/>"Well-met, Master Shaine, Miss Janira," Shirin says, smiling pleasantly at the two. She can deal with the halfling's enthusiasm, she decides; she evidently hadn't seen much in there to be terrified of. "Can you tell us more about these caves and what lies within?"