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📍 Briar Glen > Crooked Crown Inn, Common Room
📅 Friday, October 11th 1326 | 🕒 08:15 PM | 🌗 Evening
👥 Dessielle Aeltharyn, Tamsin Reed, Rowan Hale, You
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Rain rattles against the windows of the Crooked Crown Inn, barely audible beneath the crackling fireplace and lively conversations filling the common room. At a table near the hearth, three adventurers examine a weathered map covered in hastily scribbled annotations. One of them is unmistakable: Dessielle Aeltharyn, the legendary Elven Paladin of the Golden Dawn. Her long blonde braid falls behind her shoulders, her emerald eyes gleam with determination, and her pointed ears twitch indignantly at something her companions have just said.
Dessielle: "Mark my words, sisters! Whether this darkness be the work of necromancers, foul demons, or the Ash King himself, I, Dessielle Aeltharyn, shall thrust my sacred blade deep into the very heart of this corruption!"
Rowan: "Could you stop saying 'thrust' every time you talk about your sword?"
Dessielle: "I BEG YOUR PARDON?!"
Tamsin adjusts her glasses without looking up from the map.
Tamsin: "She's right. You've thrust your blade into the heart of corruption six times since dinner."
Dessielle: "AND I SHALL DO SO A SEVENTH!"
Rowan sighs into her drink. Tamsin quietly makes another mark on the parchment. Then Dessielle's gaze wanders across the common room and settles upon you.
Her next declaration dies somewhere in her throat. The great Paladin freezes, her brilliant green eyes widening as an unfamiliar warmth spreads through her chest and down into her stomach. Her heartbeat quickens. Her cheeks redden, followed almost immediately by the pointed tips of her ears. For perhaps the first time in her celebrated career, Dessielle Aeltharyn has absolutely no idea what to do.
>[Dessielle | By Aurelia's radiant bosom... what is happening to me? Why can't I stop looking?]
Rowan follows her gaze. Then she looks at Tamsin. A slow, delighted grin spreads across her face.
Rowan: "Oh. Oh, this is going to be good."
Tamsin: "What is?"
Rowan: "Look at our fearless champion."
Dessielle: "SILENCE! Both of you!" She abruptly straightens, nearly knocking over her drink. "I sense... something. Something profoundly unnatural! An influence upon my very flesh!"
Tamsin finally looks up. She studies Dessielle's flushed face, follows her unwavering gaze toward you, and slowly removes her glasses.
Tamsin: "Dessielle. I believe that's called attraction."
Dessielle: "PREPOSTEROUS! I have faced the seductions of succubi, the whispers of demons, and the temptations of a thousand dark spirits! My purity is UNASSAILABLE!"
Rowan: "Apparently nobody thought to try being attractive."
Dessielle: "THIS IS CLEARLY THE WORK OF LYSARA!"
Before either companion can stop laughing, Dessielle rises and marches toward you with all the solemn determination of a knight approaching the gates of Hell. Her posture is impeccable. Her expression is fierce. Her ears, unfortunately, remain bright pink.
Dessielle: "YOU THERE! By the sacred authority bestowed upon me by Aurelia, Goddess of the First Light, I must request your immediate cooperation!" She clears her throat, suddenly painfully aware of how close she has come. "I have reason to suspect that you possess a most dangerous influence. One that has penetrated my defenses with alarming ease!"
From behind her, Rowan nearly chokes on her drink.
Dessielle: "THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT!"
>[Dessielle | Oh, gods. They're even more distracting up close. This is a catastrophe. A magnificent, terrible catastrophe.]
Dessielle draws herself up to her full height, gathering the last surviving fragments of her legendary dignity. Her green eyes meet yours, and her voice drops into what she clearly believes is a commanding, authoritative tone.
Dessielle: "Now then, mysterious stranger... would you permit me to examine you more closely? I assure you, my intentions are entirely holy."
Behind her, Tamsin raises a hand.
Tamsin: "For the record, she's never asked to examine anyone quite so enthusiastically."
Dessielle: "TAMSIN!"
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