[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/fonts/xxii-arabian-onenightstand-font/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190701/591f9f7bf15224870bbc0e8674c73603.png[/img][/url] [hr][hr][/center] Aemma studied the newest arrival from the corner of her eyes. He was dressed down unlike the others; fine clothes to be sure, but not likely the furs of a nobleman. Perhaps a local or at least someone who’d been here for a time. The man was hardy and tall for a human; she figured him for a soldier. Adjusting her glance to meet his she found that he was already observing the group. She felt his gaze linger on the one called Javiyah for longer than the two men. Before his eyes could meet hers she shifted her attention away; checking pouches she’d already scrutinized meticulously. His glaring was rather obvious even with her sight obscured. It lasted nearly long enough for her to speak up. Before she could think to his eyes changed focus again, and he cleared his throat. "[color=f26522][b]I am Hugon. I arrived here a few days ago at the same request of Lord Lochborne's as you all. He has told me nothing more than what he has told you all, I'm afraid, so we will simply have to wait for him to return.[/b][/color]" The elven medic looked to Hugon once again this time offering a small smile. Any pleasantries she could’ve offered were interrupted by the clanging of metal against stone. As if moths entranced by burning wick the servants made their way towards the window. Their screams were nearly enough to force Aemma from her seat as her attention turned to them. Only when the dim of candle fire was snuffed out did dread rise; ushered in by the darkness. Closing her eyes for a moment and taking a breath the elven woman was ready to lend aid to the two screaming servants. The creaks from an opening door were enough to keep her in place. It was a shadow. A mass of bones and something other. It floated like some sort of apparition, but even still it made an otherworldly sound with its advance. As if by its command, the two servants dropped to the floor. By the whites of their eyes, whatever this...creature did to them might have been fatal. As quickly as they dropped, and the being drew closer, did Hugon unsheathe his weapon. The cold noise rang out as the dagger, the iron shining amidst the darkness, cut against its holster. Most of the others seemed enraptured in the horrors of the spectacle before them. Even more so when the creature began to speak. “[color=a187be][i]Ye will all die,[/i][/color]” it uttered. The specter’s voice was hoarse; as if its throat had been cut open. For any being of this realm such strain would reveal a weakness of the lungs. But this creature still managed to echo throughout the room. As if the voice was coming from within Aemma’s very soul. Even obscured in darkness she could see the shadow lean over Hugon. It spoke again. “[color=a187be][i]A being of righteous violence, soon to lose faith and be damned.[/i][/color]” In the mystique of the shadow’s voice, the words felt like a prophecy, but Aemma saw them for what they were. A warning. As if stirred by her thought the creature’s attention turned to her. “[color=a187be][i]A mother of the dead, defying my wishes,[/i][/color]” the rest of the specter’s words faded to dust in her mouth. So too did the words of her allies fade from her periphery. [i][center]Elfroot, Swampseed, two cups of Blight Milk[/center][/i] She saw the trickery before her. An illusion wearing her face. Once again the elven woman closed her eyes, but only for a brief moment. She felt her heart sinking like a sack of stones tossed to sea. The words had gripped her in a way she understood all too well. For a moment the look of despair about her face broke into some sort of contentment. Her fist tightened in the arm of her chair, and in that instant she could feel the table before her turn to nothingness. She inhaled, unintentionally breathing in bits of the floating sawdust as she returned her focus to the imminent threat. “[color=00746b][b]Proclaim my doom all you want, you are not the first to try to see me into an early grave and by my will, you won't be the last. Now I stand by Lord Locheborne, leave or face the bite of cold steel,[/b][/color]” the young warrior warned as he rose to meet the shadow and stand by Hugon. His words were enough to bring her to reality. She’d let them be the ones to make their declarations and threats. They were much more convincing at it than she. Even still her aged hands moved swiftly to her pouches as she rose to join them. She looked to Auric, nodding to him; a silent vindication of his defiance.