As soon as Mary's blanket falls to the floor, Meira kneels down to pick it up. She's right there as Mary herself crumples to the ground. She simply takes the blanket and wraps it around the woman's shoulders.
For a moment, she gives Lyra the briefest of glances, then focuses back on the grieving woman. "I can hardly imagine what you must be feeling. It's only right you weep for Frederic right now."
She stays near Mary, and a million jokes flash through her head. But even she knows it's not the time. Again she glances towards the halfling. Surely a Cleric would be trained to deal with the grieving, right? Though she always thought more of Lyra being her accomplice for tricks and pranks.
Finally, she speaks softly to Mary. "Perhaps we should get you in out of the cold. It's a bit brisk here at the door."
Noticing her hand still clinched in a fist about the letter, she adds, "And maybe we can hold on to that note for now? You may wish to see what it contains another time."
Lady Alisande's gray eyes grow as wide Gareth explains the extent of his literary neglect, almost choking on her beef stew. "Good heavens. Well, we shall have to remedy that at the earliest opportunity. I daresay a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters would serve you most admirably." She insists, going on to extoll the virtues of said bestiary for monster hunters like Gareth, quietly hoping to rekindle in him an enthusiasm for the written word.
Alisande spends a good portion of the evening dining and conversing with Zephyros, Gareth and Rasziel, inquiring after the particulars of their personal histories whilst also unveiling aspects of her own. Eventually she reveals that she is an initiate in the Many-Starred Cloak, a guild of arcanists who work to keep Neverwinter and neighbouring territories safe from danger.
"My late mother - may Mystra take her into her grace - was a member of the Order as well. She vanished many years ago and was long presumed dead, though in truth she laboured clandestinely to subvert the efforts of a cabal of necromancers amassing power here, somewhere in the Sword Mountains region. It was only in the twilight of her life that she returned to the family estate." Her voice quavers somewhat, the loss of her mother still raw in the memory. "I suppose that is why I am here. Heritage. I am compelled to finish my mother's work, to elevate the standard of House Immerwood once more, after years of... well, much neglect."
Two spots of colour bloom in her fair face, betraying the embarrassment she feels at revealing so much to relative strangers. "These Phandalin libations are rather more potent than I anticipated. Pray forgive me." The noblewoman murmurs and excuses herself, making a brief tour of the town on her own and using the time to compose herself.
When she returns, she concurs with Rasziel's proposal for the entire group, including Lyra and Meira. "If you would have us, I would be honoured to join you in your endeavours. Preparing for a confrontation with either of these dragons certainly seems the most pressing. It is difficult to believe two such fearsome beasts exist in close proximity, and I fear for the safety of Phandalin should their wrath be unleashed upon the town. Yet I cannot in good conscience ignore the mages in this woodland manse for too long. It is possible they bear some connection to the investigations my mother once pursued."
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Mary Gilmore's House
As soon as Mary's blanket falls to the floor, Meira kneels down to pick it up. She's right there as Mary herself crumples to the ground. She simply takes the blanket and wraps it around the woman's shoulders.
For a moment, she gives Lyra the briefest of glances, then focuses back on the grieving woman. "I can hardly imagine what you must be feeling. It's only right you weep for Frederic right now."
She stays near Mary, and a million jokes flash through her head. But even she knows it's not the time. Again she glances towards the halfling. Surely a Cleric would be trained to deal with the grieving, right? Though she always thought more of Lyra being her accomplice for tricks and pranks.
Finally, she speaks softly to Mary. "Perhaps we should get you in out of the cold. It's a bit brisk here at the door."
Noticing her hand still clinched in a fist about the letter, she adds, "And maybe we can hold on to that note for now? You may wish to see what it contains another time."
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard ||
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer || Bronnryn Hethgar, Cleric
Lady Alisande's gray eyes grow as wide Gareth explains the extent of his literary neglect, almost choking on her beef stew. "Good heavens. Well, we shall have to remedy that at the earliest opportunity. I daresay a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters would serve you most admirably." She insists, going on to extoll the virtues of said bestiary for monster hunters like Gareth, quietly hoping to rekindle in him an enthusiasm for the written word.
Alisande spends a good portion of the evening dining and conversing with Zephyros, Gareth and Rasziel, inquiring after the particulars of their personal histories whilst also unveiling aspects of her own. Eventually she reveals that she is an initiate in the Many-Starred Cloak, a guild of arcanists who work to keep Neverwinter and neighbouring territories safe from danger.
"My late mother - may Mystra take her into her grace - was a member of the Order as well. She vanished many years ago and was long presumed dead, though in truth she laboured clandestinely to subvert the efforts of a cabal of necromancers amassing power here, somewhere in the Sword Mountains region. It was only in the twilight of her life that she returned to the family estate." Her voice quavers somewhat, the loss of her mother still raw in the memory. "I suppose that is why I am here. Heritage. I am compelled to finish my mother's work, to elevate the standard of House Immerwood once more, after years of... well, much neglect."
Two spots of colour bloom in her fair face, betraying the embarrassment she feels at revealing so much to relative strangers. "These Phandalin libations are rather more potent than I anticipated. Pray forgive me." The noblewoman murmurs and excuses herself, making a brief tour of the town on her own and using the time to compose herself.
When she returns, she concurs with Rasziel's proposal for the entire group, including Lyra and Meira. "If you would have us, I would be honoured to join you in your endeavours. Preparing for a confrontation with either of these dragons certainly seems the most pressing. It is difficult to believe two such fearsome beasts exist in close proximity, and I fear for the safety of Phandalin should their wrath be unleashed upon the town. Yet I cannot in good conscience ignore the mages in this woodland manse for too long. It is possible they bear some connection to the investigations my mother once pursued."