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    Legend

    EXP: 127,650, Level: 15
    Level completed: 55%, EXP required for next Level: 7,350
    Level completed: 55%,
    EXP required for next Level: 7,350


    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    14,025

    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

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    Missing

    mature cotnet
    "Who are you?"

    "My name does not matter," he said, "Only my purpose."

    Folding her arms she stared at the man in leather, standing there all pride and strength, and swung back her purple braid to beyond her shoulder.

    "Look," she replied, "I am not used to being spoken to like this. I don't know who you are or how you got here, but I suggest you leave."

    A flicker of a smile came to the man's face as his eyes - the rest of his face hidden behind a black mask - darted around 'here'. It was a small room, atop an inn in the heart of Radasanth. Philomel's home city, where she had been raised and then conquered, taking over almost every brothel she could find. Some remained independently under the control of their patriarchy and pimps, and she respected that, so long as the whores were happy. Right now, however, she was in one of the ones who were fiercely loyal to her - strangely loyal in fact, and she was not sure how they could let a stranger in, right into the place she was preparing for sleep.

    "I am not here to kill you," he said.

    "Well that is good, because I am afraid it would be you who lost your life," she rolled her eyes and took an 'unmaused' pose.

    A small laugh came from underneath the place, featureless mask. "I am sure you would, my lady, but I am only here to aid you."

    "Aid me?" she snorted, "How? You mean you think you can promise me something that I cannot get for myself."

    "No, but I bring news," he said, "And skill and a message."

    "A message from whom?" she asked, her fingers gently carressing the pommel her fiery dagger, the Lover. "Who are you talking about? What is this 'news'?"

    The man straightened his back and pushed back his black, cotton cloak, revealing the hilt of a shiny rapier and a simple revolver. Something Philomel simply detested. He set his hand on the sword, simply copying her movements and showing that he would not be easy, either.

    "I come from a man from very far away," the leather man said, "A Sir Vitruvion Ellsmith. And he knows where your daughter is."
    Last edited by Philomel; 09-05-2017 at 10:58 AM.

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