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Dae 

AC: 13 | HP: 27/27 | Spells: 3/4, 1/2 | Sorrowful fate: 1/1 | Protection from good/evil 0/1 | Inspiration: 1/4 | Passive Perception: 14 | Condition: Normal

Dae nodded again. "Yes, of course. As it's been told, a hero of the people, not only defending them, but further nuturing their lives..." I am jaded to think no hero can be flawless?

"Thank you, again." Dae turned once more from the dark oak counter to follow where the half-orc had pointed. "The tiefling....?" On the half-orc's confirmation of direction, Dae walked towards the towering shelves. She'd really never been anywhere like this. It was daunting. She decided finding Damaia would be a better first turn than trying to decipher the titles on her own.

Dae drifted along the shelves, quietly, in respect for the silence of the library. She glanced down at her hands, still dirty from the day. Muttering in elvish, she flexed her strong fingers delicately and the dirt on them faded. She would not smudge a single page here with her own grubbiness.

She was still pondering her hands when she made the final turn into the row where Damaia stood. She looked up. "Damaia, I found you... " Her low voice trailed into silence as she took in the scene. The man in dark armor, with a cold expression and evil daggers. And, Damaia, sword whirling in a viscious defensive strike.

There was no time, no time to do anything but act. "Help, there's an attacker in the library! Lulani! Veroth!" She then focused on the man and braced herself against the coming wave of emotion. She whispered, something only the man could hear... the penetrating wail, a single stroke, of a misplayed violin.

Dae 

AC: 13 | HP: 27/27 | Spells: 4/4, 1/2 | Sorrowful fate: 1/1 | Protection from good/evil 0/1 | Inspiration: 1/4 | Passive Perception: 14 | Condition: Normal

Dae nodded again. "Yes, of course. As it's been told, a hero of the people, not only defending them, but further nuturing their lives..." I am jaded to think no hero can be flawless?

"Thank you, again." Dae turned once more from the dark oak counter to follow where the half-orc had pointed. "The tiefling....?" On the half-orc's confirmation of direction, Dae walked towards the towering shelves. She'd really never been anywhere like this. It was daunting. She decided finding Damaia would be a better first turn than trying to decipher the titles on her own.

Dae drifted along the shelves, quietly, in respect for the silence of the library. She glanced down at her hands, still dirty from the day. Muttering in elvish, she flexed her strong fingers delicately and the dirt on them faded. She would not smudge a single page here with her own grubbiness.

She was still pondering her hands when she made the final turn into the row where Damaia stood. She looked up. "Damaia, I found you... " Her low voice trailed into silence as she took in the scene. The man in dark armor, with a cold expression and evil daggers. And, Damaia, sword whirling in a viscious defensive strike.

There was no time, no time to do anything but act. "Help, there's an attacker in the library! Lulani! Veroth!" She then focused on the man and braced herself against the coming wave of emotion. She whispered, something only the man could hear... the penetrating wail, a single stroke, of a misplayed violin.

Dae 

AC: 13 | HP: 27/27 | Spells: 4/4, 1/2 | Sorrowful fate: 1/1 | Protection from good/evil 0/1 | Inspiration: 1/4 | Passive Perception: 14 | Condition: Normal

Dae nodded again. "Yes, of course. As it's been told, a hero of the people, not only defending them, but further nuturing their lives..." I am jaded to think no hero can be flawless?

"Thank you, again." Dae turned once more from the dark oak counter to follow where the half-orc had pointed. "The tiefling....?" On the half-orc's confirmation of direction, Dae walked towards the towering shelves. She'd really never been anywhere like this. It was daunting. She decided finding Damaia would be a better first turn than trying to decipher the titles on her own.

Dae drifted along the shelves, quietly, in respect for the silence of the library. She glanced down at her hands, still dirty from the day. Muttering in elvish, she flexed her strong fingers delicately and the dirt on them faded. She would not smudge a single page here with her own grubbiness.

She was still pondering her hands when she made the final turn into the row where Damaia stood. She looked up. "Damaia, I found you... " Her low voice trailed into silence as she took in the scene. The man in dark armor, with a cold expression and evil daggers. And, Damaia, sword whirling in a viscious defensive strike.