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Making her way back to the cart, Lucienne climbed aboard and seated  herself next to Evermoor in a straight posture. “I see we have a few noble heroes who have risen to the occasion. Obviously they have plenty to compensate for.” She says the term ‘noble heroes’ with unveiled derision and does not look towards Evermoor to see his reaction.

As the matter is resolved and the caravan begins to move again, Lucienne extends her break to discuss heroism and its place in society. “You are no fool, Oyn. You know Heroism is not defined by societal structures like class. Nor is it a pre-defined, genetic trait. More often than not, It is merely a mixture of three things.” She raises three gloved fingers as she counts them off, “A dull mind - incapable of conjuring a better plan, a stubborn heart - incapable of adapting to change…and an ocean of cowards behind them, egging them on to do what they are too afraid to do themselves.” She dropped her hand to her purse and pulled her journal from the extra dimensional space along with its adjoining mechanical quill. She began to scribble something on a page that was already filled with notes, illegible to anyone but herself. “Hold. I need to write that down — Gods, I can be brilliant sometimes.” She gave a side-eyed look to Evermoor and grinned. 

After a moment, she finished and tucked the journal back into her purse. “Anyway, as for what makes a noble fit for rule I’d have to answer with…” A wry grin greets her lips once more as she relishes the chance to speak ill of other nobles and their rule. “…a complete unwillingness to lead. Anyone who wants to lead does not deserve it. It only means they crave power, and anyone who craves power should not have i-“ She stopped herself at that, perhaps coming to a self-realization about her own goals. Her face fell and her eyes went distant. She did not talk for a long moment, and when she finally did it was to excuse herself. “I have work to do.” With that, the conversation was over.

Sitting next to Evermoor, Lucienne shakes her head as she watches her undercover allies carouse with their adopted guard. “Imagine my surprise to find that we do, in fact, have individuals in our caravan that possess all three qualities of Heroism.” The words sound complimentary but the tone suggests it is not. “You’ll have to forgive me, Evermoor, if urging you to use that brain of yours is bothersome to you.” She gives him a smirk, indicating her intent was playful. She had actually come to enjoy spending her days around Oyn more and more. Dani did not have many inquisitive minds willing to debate ethics and politics within her little group of ‘heroes’, and so Luci would learn to relish the time spent with someone who was willing. Although, perhaps it had more to do with the fact that Evermoor, being the quiet and contemplative sort, allowed her to spout her opinions freely without deriding her for being ‘arrogant’. 

Later in the evening, Luci nonchalantly made her way towards the Dardendelle camp. She did not make a direct approach, appearing to be casually stretching her legs while loosing her platinum locks from their bindings. She did speak, but only approached Theodoric to do so, and attempted to make her conversation appear to be boring to her. Or perhaps it actually was. “Ah, just the man in a mask I was looking for." She proceeded to explain what she had found in one of the Cult wagons, confirming their suspicions. She then followed up her intel with a word of advice, "Tell your caravan partners to seek a medic to plug their damnable bleeding hearts.” Her voice grew more sharp as the sentence continued, but remained quiet. “If they do not stop they will draw the eyes of certain individuals and earn themselves a sharp edge in their gut while they sleep. We are here do a job, not pick up every lost mutt we stumble across.” With a huff Lucienne turned on a heel and started back towards her tent.

Arriving later than most others, Lucienne scowled at the sight of the abominations, focusing her attention specifically on the Etterkins attempting to steal away the horses. “Oh no you do not.” She announced in her Chondothan accent, sounding not unlike a lecturing mother. She thrust a hand forward while performing a series of intricate gestures with her fingers. Then, as if pulling a series of threads from the space in front of her, she yanked downwards. The spell fell upon the two Etterkins — and, regrettably, the horses as well — like a ton of bricks, hopefully weighing them down further to impede their escape.

Making her way back to the cart, Lucienne climbed aboard and seated  herself next to Evermoor in a straight posture. “I see we have a few noble heroes who have risen to the occasion. Obviously they have plenty to compensate for.” She says the term ‘noble heroes’ with unveiled derision and does not look towards Evermoor to see his reaction.

As the matter is resolved and the caravan begins to move again, Lucienne extends her break to discuss heroism and its place in society. “You are no fool, Oyn. You know Heroism is not defined by societal structures like class. Nor is it a pre-defined, genetic trait. More often than not, It is merely a mixture of three things.” She raises three gloved fingers as she counts them off, “A dull mind - incapable of conjuring a better plan, a stubborn heart - incapable of adapting to change…and an ocean of cowards behind them, egging them on to do what they are too afraid to do themselves.” She dropped her hand to her purse and pulled her journal from the extra dimensional space along with its adjoining mechanical quill. She began to scribble something on a page that was already filled with notes, illegible to anyone but herself. “Hold. I need to write that down — Gods, I can be brilliant sometimes.” She gave a side-eyed look to Evermoor and grinned. 

After a moment, she finished and tucked the journal back into her purse. “Anyway, as for what makes a noble fit for rule I’d have to answer with…” A wry grin greets her lips once more as she relishes the chance to speak ill of other nobles and their rule. “…a complete unwillingness to lead. Anyone who wants to lead does not deserve it. It only means they crave power, and anyone who craves power should not have i-“ She stopped herself at that, perhaps coming to a self-realization about her own goals. Her face fell and her eyes went distant. She did not talk for a long moment, and when she finally did it was to excuse herself. “I have work to do.” With that, the conversation was over.

Sitting next to Evermoor, Lucienne shakes her head as she watches her undercover allies carouse with their adopted guard. “Imagine my surprise to find that we do, in fact, have individuals in our caravan that possess all three qualities of Heroism.” The words sound complimentary but the tone suggests it is not. “You’ll have to forgive me, Evermoor, if urging you to use that brain of yours is bothersome to you.” She gives him a smirk, indicating her intent was playful. She had actually come to enjoy spending her days around Oyn more and more. Dani did not have many inquisitive minds willing to debate ethics and politics within her little group of ‘heroes’, and so Luci would learn to relish the time spent with someone who was willing. Although, perhaps it had more to do with the fact that Evermoor, being the quiet and contemplative sort, allowed her to spout her opinions freely without deriding her for being ‘arrogant’. 

Later in the evening, Luci nonchalantly made her way towards the Dardendelle camp. She did not make a direct approach, appearing to be casually stretching her legs while loosing her platinum locks from their bindings. She did speak, but only approached Theodoric to do so, and attempted to make her conversation appear to be boring to her. Or perhaps it actually was. “Ah, just the man in a mask I was looking for." She proceeded to explain what she had found in one of the Cult wagons, confirming their suspicions. She then followed up her intel with a word of advice, "Tell your caravan partners to seek a medic to plug their damnable bleeding hearts.” Her voice grew more sharp as the sentence continued, but remained quiet. “If they do not stop they will draw the eyes of certain individuals and earn themselves a sharp edge in their gut while they sleep. We are here do a job, not pick up every lost mutt we stumble across.” With a huff Lucienne turned on a heel and started back towards her tent.

Arriving later than most others, Lucienne scowled at the sight of the abominations, focusing her attention specifically on the Etterkins attempting to steal away the horses. “Oh no you do not.” She announced in her Chondothan accent, sounding not unlike a lecturing mother. She thrust a hand forward while performing a series of intricate gestures with her fingers. Then, as if pulling a series of threads from the space in front of her, she yanked downwards. The spell fell upon the two Etterkins — and, regrettably, the horses as well — like a ton of bricks, hopefully weighing them down further to impede their escape.

Making her way back to the cart, Lucienne climbed aboard and seated  herself next to Evermoor in a straight posture. “I see we have a few noble heroes who have risen to the occasion. Obviously they have plenty to compensate for.” She says the term ‘noble heroes’ with unveiled derision and does not look towards Evermoor to see his reaction.

As the matter is resolved and the caravan begins to move again, Lucienne extends her break to discuss heroism and its place in society. “You are no fool, Oyn. You know Heroism is not defined by societal structures like class. Nor is it a pre-defined, genetic trait. More often than not, It is merely a mixture of three things.” She raises three gloved fingers as she counts them off, “A dull mind - incapable of conjuring a better plan, a stubborn heart - incapable of adapting to change…and an ocean of cowards behind them, egging them on to do what they are too afraid to do themselves.” She dropped her hand to her purse and pulled her journal from the extra dimensional space along with its adjoining mechanical quill. She began to scribble something on a page that was already filled with notes, illegible to anyone but herself. “Hold. I need to write that down — Gods, I can be brilliant sometimes.” She gave a side-eyed look to Evermoor and grinned. 

After a moment, she finished and tucked the journal back into her purse. “Anyway, as for what makes a noble fit for rule I’d have to answer with…” A wry grin greets her lips once more as she relishes the chance to speak ill of other nobles and their rule. “…a complete unwillingness to lead. Anyone who wants to lead does not deserve it. It only means they crave power, and anyone who craves power should not have i-“ She stopped herself at that, perhaps coming to a self-realization about her own goals. Her face fell and her eyes went distant. She did not talk for a long moment, and when she finally did it was to excuse herself. “I have work to do.” With that, the conversation was over.

Sitting next to Evermoor, Lucienne shakes her head as she watches her undercover allies carouse with their adopted guard. “Imagine my surprise to find that we do, in fact, have individuals in our caravan that possess all three qualities of Heroism.” The words sound complimentary but the tone suggests it is not. “You’ll have to forgive me, Evermoor, if urging you to use that brain of yours is bothersome to you.” She gives him a smirk, indicating her intent was playful. She had actually come to enjoy spending her days around Oyn more and more. Dani did not have many inquisitive minds willing to debate ethics and politics within her little group of ‘heroes’, and so Luci would learn to relish the time spent with someone who was willing. Although, perhaps it had more to do with the fact that Evermoor, being the quiet and contemplative sort, allowed her to spout her opinions freely without deriding her for being ‘arrogant’. 

Later in the evening, Luci nonchalantly made her way towards the Dardendelle camp. She did not make a direct approach, appearing to be casually stretching her legs while loosing her platinum locks from their bindings. She did speak, but only approached Theodoric to do so, and attempted to make her conversation appear to be boring to her. Or perhaps it actually was. “Ah, just the man in a mask I was looking for." She proceeded to explain what she had found in one of the Cult wagons, confirming their suspicions. She then followed up her intel with a word of advice, "Tell your caravan partners to seek a medic to plug their damnable bleeding hearts.” Her voice grew more sharp as the sentence continued, but remained quiet. “If they do not stop they will draw the eyes of certain individuals and earn themselves a sharp edge in their gut while they sleep. We are here do a job, not pick up every lost mutt we stumble across.” With a huff Lucienne turned on a heel and started back towards her tent.

Arriving later than most others, Lucienne scowled at the sight of the abominations, focusing her attention specifically on the Etterkins attempting to steal away the horses. “Oh no you do not.” She announced in her Chondothan accent, sounding not unlike a lecturing mother. She thrust a hand forward while performing a series of intricate gestures with her fingers. Then, as if pulling a series of threads from the space in front of her, she yanked downwards. The spell fell upon the two Etterkins — and, regrettably, the horses as well — like a ton of bricks, hopefully weighing them down further to impede their escape.

Making her way back to the cart, Lucienne climbed aboard and seated  herself next to Evermoor in a straight posture. “I see we have a few noble heroes who have risen to the occasion. Obviously they have plenty to compensate for.” She says the term ‘noble heroes’ with unveiled derision and does not look towards Evermoor to see his reaction.

As the matter is resolved and the caravan begins to move again, Lucienne extends her break to discuss heroism and its place in society. “You are no fool, Oyn. You know Heroism is not defined by societal structures like class. Nor is it a pre-defined, genetic trait. More often than not, It is merely a mixture of three things.” She raises three gloved fingers as she counts them off, “A dull mind - incapable of conjuring a better plan, a stubborn heart - incapable of adapting to change…and an ocean of cowards behind them, egging them on to do what they are too afraid to do themselves.” She dropped her hand to her purse and pulled her journal from the extra dimensional space along with its adjoining mechanical quill. She began to scribble something on a page that was already filled with notes, illegible to anyone but herself. “Hold. I need to write that down — Gods, I can be brilliant sometimes.” She gave a side-eyed look to Evermoor and grinned. 

After a moment, she finished and tucked the journal back into her purse. “Anyway, as for what makes a noble fit for rule I’d have to answer with…” A wry grin greets her lips once more as she relishes the chance to speak ill of other nobles and their rule. “…a complete unwillingness to lead. Anyone who wants to lead does not deserve it. It only means they crave power, and anyone who craves power should not have i-“ She stopped herself at that, perhaps coming to a self-realization about her own goals. Her face fell and her eyes went distant. She did not talk for a long moment, and when she finally did it was to excuse herself. “I have work to do.” With that, the conversation was over.

Sitting next to Evermoor, Lucienne shakes her head as she watches her undercover allies carouse with their adopted guard. “Imagine my surprise to find that we do, in fact, have individuals in our caravan that possess all three qualities of Heroism.” The words sound complimentary but the tone suggests it is not. “You’ll have to forgive me, Evermoor, if urging you to use that brain of yours is bothersome to you.” She gives him a smirk, indicating her intent was playful. She had actually come to enjoy spending her days around Oyn more and more. Dani did not have many inquisitive minds willing to debate ethics and politics within her little group of ‘heroes’, and so Luci would learn to relish the time spent with someone who was willing. Although, perhaps it had more to do with the fact that Evermoor, being the quiet and contemplative sort, allowed her to spout her opinions freely without deriding her for being ‘arrogant’. 

Later in the evening, Luci nonchalantly made her way towards the Dardendelle camp. She did not make a direct approach, appearing to be casually stretching her legs while loosing her platinum locks from their bindings. She did speak, but only approached Theodoric to do so, and attempted to make her conversation appear to be boring to her. Or perhaps it actually was. “Ah, just the man in a mask I was looking for." She proceeded to explain what she had found in one of the Cult wagons, confirming their suspicions. She then followed up her intel with a word of advice, "Tell your caravan partners to seek a medic to plug their damnable bleeding hearts.” Her voice grew more sharp as the sentence continued, but remained quiet. “If they do not stop they will draw the eyes of certain individuals and earn themselves a sharp edge in their gut while they sleep. We are here do a job, not pick up every lost mutt we stumble across.” With a huff Lucienne turned on a heel and started back towards her tent.

Arriving later than most others, Lucienne scowled at the sight of the abominations, focusing her attention specifically on the Etterkins attempting to steal away the horses. “Oh no you do not.” She announced in her Chondothan accent, sounding not unlike a lecturing mother. She thrust a hand forward while performing a series of intricate gestures with her fingers. Then, as if pulling a series of threads from the space in front of her, she yanked downwards. The spell fell upon the two Etterkins — and, regrettably, the horses as well — like a ton of bricks, hopefully weighing them down further to impede their escape.