[h3][center]Nori Ito[/center][/h3]
The air in the kitchen suddenly crackled with a faint electricity, as if suddenly beset by an unseen force. It started slow at first, a faint white mist of loose flour wafting upwards by an intrusive air current. Warm swirling air began to concentrate at the center of the room, where a small work table sat, picking up momentum as the pace quickened. A faint hum began eminating from the small windstorms center and soon small blue sparks bounced from the disturbance, only to sputter out a few inches away. 

Sparks soon became more frequent, and the wind picked up further, loose flour from all ages past now clouding in air in a frenzy. The world table now obfuscated by the growing typhoon that had taken control of the kitchen. And then, as the windstorm reached the peak of its violence, a final brilliant spark burst through the flour fog followed by a deafening crack of thunder that rang throughout Candaeln like the scream of a war god. As the final echos of the crack rang in the ears of those unfortunate enough to have been close, the wind died as quickly as it was born. And there, on the world table, a small figure sat. They dressed in an alien fashion, baggy simple robes loosely hanging from their figure instead of the tailored form hugging fashions of Thaln and its neighbors. An odd weapon, almost saber like, sat in its sheath next to her. A glimmering green stone tightly clung to her neck, hidding an angry scare which had only just began to fade with age. “Good evening” the figure says to the three maids it just disturbed, a raspy whisper like voice coming from the ornament. “This is the place known as Candaeln correct?” they asked, a pair of silver floppy rabbit like ears suddenly lifting themselves to an alert position, twitching slightly.