Marion Mordis

So, Marion had a choices to make: where to go?

Behind door number one was an ogre...chef?
completing the spit roast of some enormous teo-legged avian, the scent of which was surprisingly compelling, even for a noble born human such as herself. The odiferous melange of cooked meat and spices reached into Marions essence and conjured a primal, instinctual appreciation that she doubtlessly inherited from her far removed Vrykul ancestors. For a moment it returned her mind to thr mountains of her birth, where the altitude snd cool weather festooned such simple, hearty meals with an earthly quality she remembered fondly.

Behind door number two was a tavern, winsomely labelled the Bloody Dwarf. That charming moniker was most likely a fond memory from one of the wars in which the proprietor happily fought, before spending his ill-gotten monies on this hole in the mud. Wonderful.

Behind door number three was...Marion didn't know precisely. But judging from the cackling that echoed from deep within and the mild scent of the arcane, exotic goods and sordid other gubbins, the warlock ventured to guess that some type of witch was housed within.

Ah, the agony of choice.

Deciding that out of the three options she would most likely at least have a hobby overlap with the witch and her cauldron, Marion set forward and carefully moved through the grim portal of the shop, her dark haired head leading the way as she stepped through.

Immediately spotting Brightstar, Marion blinked in surprise.

"Oh my!"

She had not expected to be greeted by a dashing, handsome elf in the finery of his smart uniform upon entering this place. Instead she had wagered her greeting would come from some the snaggletoothed head of some half-mad crone who -

Oh there she was, Marion thought as she spotted the troll.