Open Chronicles Daring or Foolishness

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria sneered up at the castle that sat high above the town of Insprith as the sun began to set. Slowly her eyes had adjusted more to the bright lights of the surface and rumors and stories had finally drawn her to this place. Castle Van Moolehem had been the home of Baron Esther Van Moolehem for more years than anyone could remember, her life unnaturally long and her beauty never fading.

Nor the terror that she inflicted on those around her. The people of Insprith lived in constant fear, never sure if their lady or her devilries may descend to carry off some of their people for dark means.

It was the Castle that had drawn Zathria here for the rumors of powerful magical artifacts that were inside. It was not uncommon for people from around the Wilds to travel here, testing their luck and mettle against the dangers of the castle, but few managed to return.

Zathria wasn't an inexperienced young explorer, though. She had been through campaigns of war and would not be deterred.

She turned off the main road, sliding from her horse and throwing the reigns over the bar outside the tavern. It would be her first stop to gather information and to see if any others had come here for a raid on Castle Van Moolehem.

The tavern itself was quiet, smoke hanging in the air and the first groups of people beginning to shuffle in for the night, gathering together for food and drink. She kept her eyes out for any who might look the capable sort or anyone else who looked like they were here for the same purpose as her.

 

[Veshli Xor]

Like many towns near great evil, Insprith's people tended to be gruff and tense. Somehow, it seemed a universal rule too that such towns should have great ale. A redeeming factor to be sure. Hence why Veshli Xor found herself in the Fool's Judgement tavern.

Veshli turned her hooded head, peering through a shaggy shroud of her own hair and the smoke to see a traveller enter. Even in this din, she caught her white hair and stone-grey skin.

For a minute, she thought she saw an Aerai. But the prowling stride and glint of red eyes sealed it. A dark elf.

Well, now, this was a development. Veshli curled her finger below the table, drawing upon her power. Orange, bonfire dots formed a constellation of a shape -- long and angular -- before lines connected them. With a faint whoosh below the din of the tavern, a blade of dark steel materialised between these lines, filling out the space drawn out by the magic.

Veshli's hand curled around this conjured blade's pommel, staring ahead at the drow, unabashed and mildly challenging; one eye of dull silver visible below hood and hair.

Spoiler: Veshli

Zathria At'Arel