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Location: Stronghold of Mistmoor                                                      Interactions: Erik Elfhame Ostriecher V ([@IAmTheIsland]) [/center]
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Tarran followed Erik’s gaze towards the horizon, her gray eyes scanning the sky as if looking for an answer to the many questions that floated around within her head. A silent companionship lingered between the two light bearers that was only broken when Erik turned to face her once more. When the knight finally spoke up, Tarran turned her gaze from the darkening sky. He spoke of learning to accept that though the methods his father taught were more on the harsh side, they were necessary. For a grim would neither take nor give any quarter. 

Tarran knew this, at least as well as any who had never fought a grim but heard of their terrible destruction from another’s tales. She knew the grim were terrible beings that needed to be slain before they slayed you but until one finally battled such a creature face to face, it is hard to understand the severity of their savagery, the incredible bloodlust they displayed, and the intense drive they held. There were few things that could stand up against that ingrained instinct that Grim held within their souls. It was as if the only thing they could think about, longed for, or, hell, lived for was the destruction of anything that was alive. The greater grim were beings of vicious cunning that used the lesser grim as simple pawns to wipe whole civilizations from the map. She knew this. She was taught this, shown a glimpse of it from the goddess herself and yet, she still pouted like a small child denied a sweet treat after finishing their plate. 

Her hand rose to her bruised side before she sighed deeply. Of course, Erik was right. He was always right when it came to most things but it didn’t make Tarran any happier to accept the truth. His truthful answers simply forced the young noble to act like the adult her age would suggest she was. Being close to thirty and not seeing much outside of the walls of the stronghold, one could say she was quite sheltered, if not a tad spoiled. 

“I may not be a full fledged knight, such as yourself, but I have been learning my lessons well and I imagine I will be promoted to knight in the coming graduations.” It was a fool’s dream, she knew. Her mother would never allow Tarran to take the title of knight. She was reluctant to allow her fair daughter to even learn to wield a sword in the first place but her father demanded such a thing of her, that if she were to ever have to defend her land, she could do so with skill and pride. When her blessing came and transformed her into a light bearer, her mother all but cried herself to sleep that night. She could not believe that her sweet, wonderful daughter was selected by the goddess and only wished they could reverse back time to before she began her training with a sword. She swore that Tarran’s father was to blame. That if Tarran had never raised a sword in the first place, she would have not been chosen at all. 

Tarran bounced up from the bench, giving a sly grin to Erik as she tucked her hands behind her back. “You have nothing to fear. I know the best ways to slip past those guards. They will never know I am coming along with you.” She gave the knight a quick wink.