[@rush99999]
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You may know Emile better than anyone in the entire world, the bond you two have created over your years of friendship have bypassed the blood of your races into a true brotherhood. That is how you know that right now Emile is greatly troubled by newest report of the Blood Angel's latest victim. It wasn't just him that heard it either. When the messenger hesitated to give his report due to Jacoby's presence, Emile insisted that the report be given anyway. The news was perhaps the most dire yet...the victim was Cyth Braccen, a senior sentinel handler. His sentinel, Abraham, was also found destroyed at the sight of the murder with a large gaping hole in its chest and the magnus core removed if things weren't already bad enough. The color in Emile's face immediately went white with this information and he quickly dismissed the messenger, leaving only you and your sentinel named Bradamante with him.
[hider=Bradamante][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/8e/25/a3/8e25a3fec5cec6fa758f74a533845f8c--medieval-fantasy-fantasy-characters.jpg[/img][/hider]
He turns to you seeming to regain a portion of his composure, this issue with the Blood Angel has weighed heavily on him "[color=violet]Jacoby, I want you to accompany me to the crime scene. I want to see this for myself[/color]." The fierce determination in his eyes and voice was a clear indicator that there was no changing his mind. You and Bradamante have been able to handle everything from attempted assassinations to stopping a thief from stealing the original staff of Isaak Volstryggr, a priceless heirloom. Plus, there were already officers on the scene keeping the area clear of civilians "[color=violet]As Global Peace-Keeper, I have to do more than just say pretty words[/color]." Emile was already making his way towards the door and his brash nature, completely forgetting that the weather outside was especially chilly for humans.

[@LordofthePies]
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The icy-blue of the draconian's hide is visible as the figure steps into the door of your smithy, the dark grey of his metal uniform accentuated the already imposing stature of its wearer with a long, red scarf the only thing to break it up. You know him as Renal, commander of the city's guard, and he had been a loyal customer of yours since a few years after you inherited your smithy from your father. It is more often than not he is coming for maintenance on his blade, Istandir, which has been his reason for visiting for the past several years. The opening of the door lets in a brief cold breeze before it closes shut, and the room returns to its much warmer temperature provided by the heat of the furnace. "[color=6ecff6]Good Morning Valvius, here for the usual[/color]." He states bluntly, but you know from years of interaction this was him being friendly. The two of you have a quiet friendship, but often you would chat about current events and such. Today does not seem to be one of those days. Most people have trouble reading Draconian's facial features, but you have learned enough to know something is bothering him.
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He approaches you with Istandir in its hand-made leather sheath with decorative red and blue embroidering along the sides "[color=6ecff6]I trust you will take good care of her like usual[/color]?" and holds it for you to take, offering the closest thing a Draconian has to a smile. With the world in a era of peace, you often do not get to make or repair weapons such as this. Renal could have taken his business anywhere in the city with his kind of reputation but he seemed determined to have his sword maintained by you, perhaps your father maintained his weapon in the past?

[@Mystery Bard]
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The Black Cauldron sees quite the range of customers in its day to day operations, from those with a small knowledge of alchemy wishing to purchase a few ingredients for home-made remedy to those only there for the one of the many potions. Over time your shop has garnered a small reputation for being dependable, as well as for its reclusive and rather odd owner. The shop today is a little slow thanks to the current weather, people are more concerned with staying warm than alchemy it seems. That was until, [i]she[/i] walked through the door. You couldn't tell if the sudden drop in temperature was from the air outside or from her entering the room.

With hair white as the falling snow and skin nearly the same, the woman walked in with expression cold as the outside weather. Every step she took seemed effortless and her firm posture never faltered, the youth of her face betrayed the intelligence in her red eyes. A vampire. Ever since the agreement long ago that allow Vampires established a open, legal market for people to sell their blood, Vampires have become more and more comfortable with appearances in pubic. Of course the rather cloudy day must have made it much easier for her to be outside today "[color=f7976a]Shopkeeper, I am in search of a phoenix feather. Do you happen to have one[/color]?" She boldly stated. Normally that would probably come off as a kind of joke, but she didn't seem the type to joke around. Phoenix feathers were an incredibly expensive alchemical ingredient ever since the species nearly went extinct. A protected, special simulated habitat was built within Volstryggr with the last remaining Phoenixes in the world, their population slowly increasing. A very limited amount of phoenix feathers is leased to merchants every years, only increasing the demand for such a special item. A quick realization seemed to dawn on her, before quickly spoke once more, placing a hand over her chest "[color=f7976a]My apologies, I did not give my name. I am Helene St.Clair[/color]." Vampires are also known for their strict emphasis on formalities.

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