[center][color=#98ffcc][h2]Vadania Siannodel[/h2][/color][/center]

Humanity was often times quite foreign in its mannerisms to Vadania, but if she could relate to them on nothing else, it would be their ability to find solace and kinship over a good meal. The thick, porridge like dish deposited before her was certainly not her favorite; humans had such a strange fascination with grain and its many uses, of which she was not especially accustomed to. She made sure to take a few polite spoonfuls of the heavily spiced goop, but it did not capture her gaze half so well as the haunch of venison which presented itself as the main course. She could not speak for the animal's size or heritage, but feasting upon game always served as a comforting reminder of Nimtaure and its verdant forests, for which she yearned. The elf took several healthy slices from the roast and carved large mouthfuls from each piece, washing the decadent mineral flavor of meat the down with a goblet wine, something she could admit her round-eared fellows did make quite well. The sweet crimson liquid was always a favorite for her, and perhaps a few cups would assist in melting her less than personable demeanor. The... energetic nature of her companions certainly wouldn't, she was positive of that much, quirking a brow at the fighter's bone scraping. 

The chamberlain's gaze did not escape her notice as he waxed on for a time, making tiresome conversation to try and soften the gravity of his request no doubt. The way "high-society" tended to be so indirect was a source of irritation for one of a rustic upbringing, and Vadania was relieved when the Tabaxi finally cut to the chase in bringing up the reason for their arrival. It was also interesting to learn the cat-like creature had also overhead what she had, a sign that her race was perhaps more reliable with the accuracy of its senses than many who she had previously come upon. A second goblet full of fruity wine took its spot in the ranger's hand as she listened intently to the happenings outside Fort Rock's gates. 

[color=#98ffcc]"Gypsies,"[/color] She was quick to pipe up, no sooner than the chamberlain had finished his declaration. [color=#98ffcc]"You want us to clear out the gypsies so that the General, in his majesty, doesn't string them up on the battlements when he gets back."[/color] There was some amount of scorn in her tone, but she hid it well under the same mask of stoicism she usually kept towards when making her voice heard in social situations. 

It was a source of contention for the young elf, as she had little patience for the way most folk the humans considered "proper" would deal with these wandering caravans of traders and entertainers. Yet she also had little patience for the caravans themselves, having had her good nature exploited on more than one occasion while weathering with their ilk on the trail. The beloved beverage in her hand had little in the way of answers for her as she peered into its dark, mirror-like surface. Another gulp went down the hatch, perhaps to spurn her into a decision. That gulp turned into several, as she downed the entire goblet and placed it upon the tablet, mournfully refusing a refill from a dutiful serving girl, lest the drink for which she had such fondness dull her senses and aim.

[color=#98ffcc]"They're not gonna listen to us if they wouldn't listen to the guardsmen, especially if they've got those versed in the arcane among them. But, I'll lend my bow to dislodging them."[/color] Spellcasters, at least those who tapped into the more aethereal planes of magic to do their work, were always looked at with suspicious among Vadania's people, and the thought of actual, tangible curses being placed upon simple militia men doing their duty did invoke some anger in her.

[color=#98ffcc]"What sort of bewitchment befell these men, do you know? I like to be prepared for any happenstance, and I'd rather not be on the receiving end of an unknown charm."[/color]