[center][img]http://oi64.tinypic.com/20mm9f.jpg[/img][color=f26522][h3]Sharadur[/h3][/color][/center]
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Sharadur heaved a mighty sigh, even as she shivered slightly from the cold.  It looked like rain, and that was just fucking great.  Most of her life, she never really minded the rain- after all, if you didn't like getting wet, you probably had no business aboard a ship to begin with.  Here on the mainland things were different.  Bundled up in layers of leather and metal that already felt strange and foreign to her, it only ended up making things even more miserable when she found herself soaked by a sudden downpour.

Eventually, she did manage to arrive at her destination.  And what a dismal sight it turned out to be, just some run-down dump of an ancient fort that was probably older than dirt itself.  Whatever jackass had sent for her obviously couldn't even be bothered to request a meeting in someplace remotely civilized, like a nice cozy tavern.  Nope, instead they had elected to go all in on the spooky atmosphere to try and impress people.  Nothing but pomp and ceremony was what these mainlanders truly valued in life, so how could she expect anything less?

Well at any rate, she was late.  Her horse had thrown a shoe some miles back and it had taken her way more time than she cared for to get that taken care of.  That meant she was the one who got to barge in all super-importantly right into the middle of some dimly-lit room, most likely right after someone dramatically stabbed a dagger into a map or asked if there were any final questions.  Maybe her mysterious patron would even be pleased with how neatly she would be fitting into their little scene, if the choice of venue was any indication of how they operated.  Bursting through the door to the large room where the current group of people had gathered, she ultimately ended up announcing her presence in a somewhat less than dramatic fashion.  [color=f26522]"Fuck me, it smells like an ogre's asshole in this dump."[/color]

Casting her gaze about briefly, she scanned the people assembled.  While she frowned momentarily at the large orc, it was when she caught sight of the robed figure exuding green fart clouds like a goddamn fairytale villain that she seemed to decide on who was responsible for the current situation. Striding over to the table, she seated herself.  Yet, after about thirty seconds of squirming and unsuccessfully attempting to re-position herself more comfortably, she gave up and realized that she might have just preferred standing this whole time. [color=f26522]"I hope for your sake that shit ain't flammable."[/color]  She muttered, shooting Mr. Greensmoke a glance as she did so.  With that, she clapped her hands together briefly.  When she drew her hands apart, a small ball of fire sparked to life between them.  Letting out a sigh of relief as warmth flooded into her body from the small flickering flame, she found herself inwardly irritated that it had taken a bit more effort than usual to conjure up something so small.

[color=f26522]"Whelp, I'm here now.  Whaddaya want?"[/color]  She demanded, addressing the plaguebringer after naturally assuming he was the one in charge of this carnival she felt herself getting more deeply caught up in even as she spoke.  He certainly seemed to fit the bill, once everything else about this situation was taken into account.  Obviously, he was here to offer her a magical adventure through rainbowland to retrieve his magical unicorn-horn trumpet before the great demon prince "Lord Superbad McMean" used it to ruin everything forever.  Either that, or he could just as easily be some asshole petty noble who thought his minor inconsequential problems to be extra important for the sheer reason that they involved himself and thus felt the need to hire all the big guns to deal with his small problems.  Either way, if it paid well, she was probably in.

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