Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sorry for having to resort to this NecromancerAntiMage, but Gaia won't let me P.M. you for some strange reason. Here's what I was going to send you (when you're done, you can may delete this thread if you wish, or I can do it myself later).

((if I may assume that my introduction is similair to that of the other evil charecter (with the dark figure and rune and all that) then here goes.))

Acophisinarian stares scrutinizingly down at the rolled-up parchment in her clawed hands, her face a contortion of intrigue and surprise. She is taking her time to try and comprehend what has just happened before she opens up the parchment.

That man who was just here...he was a strange one. He was surely a fellow of modest power, for I could sense the strength of his equipment, things that can be claim by only the best; of course, he is nowhere near my skill.

Acophisinarian raises her fist with the scroll clasped firmly in it. She raises her other hand, and with unfurls the scroll with the claw of her pointer finger, ripping the parchment in the upper corner as she does so.

Why don't people ever learn to make these things bigger?

Acophisinarian raises the mostly-intact parchment to her eyes, and begins to read.

Acophisinarian patiently reads the note, and ends with the rune at the bottom. As the portal opens in front of her, she takes a moment to tuck the note away, in case proof of reciept is in order.

I am simultaneously flattered and disgusted by the flowery formality of that note.

Well, I suppose if they wanted me dead, they'd have used a rune of death or something; unless of course, they learned from last time they pulled that... Probably its a job offer, so I might as well hear what they have to say.

Acophisinarian steps through the stange field of teleportation magic and into the commons room, looking around. The place appears to be harmless enough, but just to be certain, Acophisinarian feels she should call her ancestors.

I call upon Jabidakimbatuul, the cunning, and Trundrachedandion, the ancient, come hither and aid your descendant!

As she speaks the name of Jabidakimbatuul, Acophisinarian's face contorts and shifts, taking a new form; if a person were to look closely, they could still note that certain features of Acophisinarian remained, but that her face had shifted to appear more dragon-like in appearance. A moment later, as she calls upon Trundrachedandion, her face contorts yet again upon itself, becoming something completely different. It looks almost like Acophisinarians face has been completely replaced with that of a blue dragon, save for the nose horn; in truth, it has been shifted to form a threefold semblance of herself, and the two dragon ancestors that now share her very soul. Thus, now with the eyes of three, Acophisinarian takes another look around.

((Acophisinarian calls her stealthy and ancient ancestor; +10 move silently and hide, no -5 penalty when moving quickly, +2d6 sneak attack, +5 insight bonus to AC, AoO whenever attacked in melee.))

Acophisinarian takes in the crowd, and still full of questions decides to inquire as to her purpose here. She reviews her list of potential sombodys to talk to.

Dragons don't react very well to half-breeds like me very well, so i'll save him if the other prospects fall short, I suppose. The tallish man looks promising, he's from around here it looks like, and he's at least talking, so he'd probably be open to someone joining in, even if its a social outcast. Lastly, that wild-eyed half-orc doesn't look like such a good option. Probably couldn't form two coherant sentances, and she might decide to cut me rather than talk; not that that'd be a problem, but perhaps it is better not to kill anyone in the home of a prospective employer.

Acophisinarian makes up her mind, and advances towards the tall man. Although tall for his size, Acophisinarian still easily towers over him, thanks to her ogres blood. She tucks her large wings tightly behind her so that she can appear to be, although not smaller, a little less large.

Greetings to you both, I don't suppose you've anything to say to me? Know why I'm here perhaps? Or is it possible you're as puzzled as myself?

Acophisinarian holds up the flowery scroll questioningly.

The pleasure is all mine. Those do sound like agreeable terms don't they? Too good to be true if you asked me, but most lordly-types do have a habit of exaggerating. I'm a rather busy woman though, and I'd rather not sit and wait until the high-lord-fancypants decides to address the general crowd; I'm going to snag an audience now, care to join me?

Acophisinarian pauses, considering.

Sounds a little much to me. Just my luck that on top of being an exageration lordly-type, I now have to deal with paranoia as well. If those little light spells are truely made out of the stuff of the rainbow spell colors, I might be ok; I've survived a few rainbow-light spells. Still, it would be wise to seek the council of the Enduring Ancestor.

Quillathe takes a moment to dismiss her Cunning Ancestor, Jabidakimbatuul, to call forth her Enduring Ancestor. As she does so, her face unnaturally shifts itself in minor, yet still unnatural, ways to form a facial structure that is vaguely different from the one she wore a few seconds ago.

(more to come in a bit)

the big man laughs, "are you worried? if you want, we can just follow the elf."

Either this man can read my mind or i'm getting careless with my facial expressions in good company.

Not so much afraid, but I wold much prefer to not risk becoming a slobbering, mindless slave if I can help it; you know, on the of-chance that I fall asleep on the trip and cannot choose a safe path.

Quillathe, filled with the watchful presence of her Enduring Ancestor, feels more secure about the situation. She considers drawing her defending daggers, but figures it wouldn't be polite to walk into a lord's manor with weapons drawn, even if her bare fists are far more deadly.

I've no want or reason to remain; lets move on.

Quillathe waits for either the man or the elf to lead the way, and steps in directly after them.