Dracosir Market District

[RedDusk]

In a large plaza outside the main castle walls, the crowds bustled around with their own self-importance, as various stall attendants called out their wares, trying to attract customers to view and buy their goods. In the center of the large a large elegantly carved stone statue depicted a dragon in mid flight, its wings flared out and rigid in the imaginary winds that it sailed in. Not only was the stone lovingly polished to a shine, but the eyes had been carefully painted to mimic the eyes of a real dragon, focused intently on something on the horizon. Around this statue, small fountains dotted along the cleanly paved gathering area, serving as small gathering areas with stone benches fixed into the ground around them.

Dotted both between these fountains and along the edge of the plaza, dozens of stalls were decorated in various types of goods. Around the fountains were small wooden stalls, displaying items ranging from delicate jewelry, to finely woven clothing. Spread around the edges were more permanent stores, built from stone or heavy wooden beams. These more sturdy buildings contained forges and other specialized craft tools. Displayed here were racks full of elegantly crafted weapons, stands bearing lovingly detailed armor, and bins full of both arrows and bolts. Near the far corner of the plaza a small tannery, carefully warded to contain the smell from its vats, displayed various leather items, including lightweight leather armors, quivers, and waterskins among other items.

In this plaza, trade flourished. It was here that any adventurers would come to equip themselves, or where regular citizens would come to get bags of ingredients for cooking. Unlike the forges of the Dragon Knights, the metalworkers here were constantly hammering out new items, making many small trinkets and other items that might be requested by citizens who needed to replace something at home. The chattering of women and happy giggling of children would ring out every few minutes. Children would flit from one part of the square to another, finding friends to play with, or in some rare cases, actually helping their parents to carry goods home from the stalls after a particularly large purchase.

Life was good for the people, and here gold flowed. And overlooked by Castle Dracosir, there was an air of safety. If you watched carefully, dragons could be seen landing or taking off from the castle on missions for the Knights. And every once in awhile, a patrol of regular foot soldiers would pass through the plaza, stopping to cheerfully mingle with the people, relaxed and enjoying the peace of the realm.

---

OOC:
Welcome to the Dracosir Market! This is an open roleplay thread, feel free to pop in and out as you please. Please don't make double posts, but feel free to wander around the various shops and such as you please. You can use this thread to flesh out your characters, to help build their personality. I will occasionally post in here, but my posts will be purely (for the most part) fluff posts, citizens trading, kids playing, perhaps a troop of soldiers coming through on a patrol. It all depends on what I feel like! Try to stick to IC messages in the thread, but if you want to leave any OOC messages, do like I've done and use the hr bb tag [hr/] (removing the forwardslash, of course) and then include any OOC with a descriptor tag.

Welcome to a new era of Aenaroth. Let this thread be a place for relaxing and casual roleplay.

[dragonsoul]

Joan sighed deeply as she gazed upon the statue of the dragon in the market square. Roger, her son, clasped her hand while doing the same; both admiring the petrified portrayal of a creature that they would have deemed a mere legend a couple days back. Almost a month had passed since Joan’s mother, Lettice, died of old age. Her last wish ungranted, no matter how much or how long she prayed to the gods. She had hoped to see her husband return, he who had been gone for over thirty four years.

Tears stung at Joan’s eyes as she remembered how her father had left their home, never to return. She was only two years old, but the grievous memory never left her mind; always rattling with curiosity, fear and utter uncertainty. The voices of her parents surged in her mind, eager to relive the roaring argument that took place that night… Just one more time.


Lettice collapsed onto the chair, barely able to suppress a sob. “How can you do this to us, Maurice? W-We are your family! We NEED you here!” She whimpered. “I will be fine, my love. It’s not the first time that these portals appear, and I’m not the first man to go through them.” Her husband said, taking her hand reassuringly. “Yes, many have left, and none have returned!” Lettice answered defiantly. Maurice fell silent for a moment and then looked into his wife’s eyes with tranquillity. “They are yet to return, my dear. It hasn’t been so long.” He said. “Twenty years aren’t long enough for you?!” Lettice stood up in anger and frustration. “That bastard ‘Hawk-Eye’ was a braggart and a scoundrel. He was eager to go on an adventure to prove his worth, but we all know he couldn’t tell the difference between the hilt and the edge of a sword.” Maurice answered confidently. “He ventured alone into that first portal, and it was clear that he would never return, unless the God of Luck favoured him.”

The quarrel had only just begun. Maurice tried to persuade her wife that this was for the best, that he was an experienced fighter and that he would bring back home a chest full of riches. Meanwhile, little Joan had been sitting on her chair at the table; forced to watch the scene unfold, which only got worse by the second, eventually witnessing her parents yelling at the top of their lungs.

“Don’t I have a choice about MY own life?!” “We have a CHILD, Maurice!” “I KNOW! And I want the best for her! And for you! That’s why I’m doing this!” “We don’t NEED a chest full of gold, Maurice! Your daughter needs a FATHER and I need a HUSBAND!” “I won’t be gone for long!” “You don’t know that, Maurice! You can’t know that…” The fight slowly died down, and the screaming was replaced by Joan’s deafening cries. Her parents tried to comfort her, but they couldn’t even agree on what to tell their daughter to soothe her, since sentences like “Daddy won’t be going anywhere.” and “I’ll be back before you know it.” clashed against each other in homogeneous murmurs. And then, silence… Joan’s cries subdued and her parents shared a look of content.

It didn’t last long.

“Lettice, I…” Maurice broke the silence. “I don’t want to argue anymore, Maurice.” Lettice sighed. Her husband then took a deep breath and closed his eyes before speaking. “It’s my fate, my love. I can feel it. It’s what the gods have planned for me.” He said. His wife gritted her teeth. “Don’t use the gods to justify your selfish ambitions; you will only earn their wrath.” She shook her head. Maurice moved behind her and spoke in a definitive tone. “I will leave tomorrow morning, I’ve taken my decision already. Now, we should all have some rest, it’s been a tiring day.” “Maurice… How can you do something like this…?”


“Mom!” Joan jolted in place as she looked around, realising she had been lost in her thoughts. “Are you alright?” Roger asked worriedly. Tears were rolling down her face; she wiped them and composed herself. “I’ll be fine, son.”

Joan stared at the statue one more time before grasping her child’s hand and walking away, following the streets of the market without any clear destination. He must have died. She thought. He would have returned if he hadn’t. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on her son’s hand, which elicited a low groan from the child. She wanted to know the truth, she needed it to bring peace to herself and her mother.

Joan arrived at Aenaroth through a bigger portal that she was told was called a “Gateway”. Apparently, the portals that had appeared in the outskirts of her hometown led to someplace random within this realm. She found out about this almost three years ago, but she had moved on and had her own child to look after. But everything went downhill when her mother died. Old wounds reopened and she felt the urge to seek for answers. By then, the gateway to Aenaroth was open for trade and immigration, so all she needed was courage and determination, which she had plenty of.

Demetrius, her husband, understood that this was something that she had to do. He offered to go with her, but they both knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to leave. As a town guard, he was well-paid but his duty required much commitment and long hours of either tedious posts or dangerous patrols. Additionally, with the rise in bandit activity around the city, things had gotten worse. They found no-one who could look after Roger while his father worked and his mother left to Aenaroth, so Joan decided to take him with her. She was certain that he would give her strength.

Mother and son walked the busy streets of the market. Joan was surprised by how prosperous the capital city was, and how everything seemed so peaceful and everyone so relaxed. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, the pair came across a patrol of guards. They were chatting cheerfully while walking through the market, clearly not expecting any trouble. This made Joan remember about her husband, although she had never seen him so relaxed while in duty.

Suddenly, a thought took control of her consciousness: Could they have known my father? Maybe he fought in the grand war that took place here years ago, maybe he became a city guard? Like he used to be back home… Joan shook her head, not wanting to fall back into sad memories. It’s a long shot, but it’s all I have. Joan took a deep breath, knowing that asking the guards could help her in her search for the truth. Either that, or she would find out nothing useful and remain clueless.

Joan strode towards the soldiers with renewed enthusiasm. She stopped right in front one of them and gave a polite nod. “Excuse me.” She said. The soldier smiled at her. “Miss? How can I be of service?” He asked dutifully. Some other guards turned to look at her as well. She smiled and said: “I know it is a strange question, but I was wondering if you had ever heard of a relative of mine who came to Aenaroth many years ago.”

“My father, Maurice Greysmith.”



OOC: Call to @red Dusk to continue RP scene.

[RedDusk]

The guard Joan spoke to lifted his head thoughtfully, staring into the sky as he thought carefully. "Maurice Greysmith..."

Behind him, the other guards also looked thoughtful, glancing at each other inquisitively. However their eyes did continue to dart around as they watched the plaza carefully, one of the guards, his beard trimmed with grey hair, even subtly sticking his foot out to stop a small leatherskin ball as it bounced wildly away from a small group of children. Gently kicking it back at them, the guard spoke up. "I don't know the name, however I do know that the Dragon Knight barracks keeps records of many of the warriors who fought in the realm for our stability."

Nodding, the lead guard leaned against the haft of his spear, grinding the butt of the weapon into the flagstone of the plaza. His eyes were clouded with thought still, though they were less distant than they had been a moment ago. "I feel like it should probably be mentioned that most of us guards aren't a part of the Dragon Knights themselves. We're just regular guardsman, few if any of us have learned the intricacies of magic. Honestly, most of us haven't been here for more than a couple of years at most. Peter there-" At this, the lead guard indicated the man who had redirected the ball a moment ago. "-He's the only one of us who lived here during the chaos. If he thinks you might find an answer there, then it's probably your best bet. The barracks is up the main road, near the main gates of the castle. There's a banner hanging over the door, it's decorated with a dragon emblem, black on a red background. Shouldn't be hard to find, there'll be a few real Dragon Knights hanging around there, most likely." Pointing up the road in the direction he was speaking of, the guard smiled gently, lifting his spear from the flagstones and resting it on his shoulder in a relaxed fashion once more. "I wish you the best with your search.

Stepping away, the patrol nodded encouragingly at Joan and her child, continuing on their rounds of the plaza, one of the guards smoothly reaching over and grabbing a child who was running a little too far from their mother, easily hefting the child and handing them back to the fuming parent.

At the other end of the plaza, a small commotion was starting, which quickly became clear to others as they looked over to see the graceful shape of a dragon swoop low over the buildings near there, a Knight visible on its back, his armor gleaming in the sun, struggling to compete with the dazzling brilliance of the dragon's emerald scales as its smooth shape sailed over the buildings, before altering course slightly and heading for a clearing some distance away where Dragon Knights met to practice their various crafts.

[dragonsoul]

A shiver ran down Joan’s spine as she spotted a dragon flying above the plaza, fortunately far from where she stood. She caught a glimpse of someone on top of the dragon, riding the creature as if it were tame. Insanity! She thought. How can someone feel at ease while at the mercy of such a treacherous beast? And how does the monster allow anyone to use it as a mount? Joan sighed in frustration. The circumstances seemed utterly ridiculous to her. However, Roger wholeheartedly disagreed with his mother sentiments. Mouth agape, he relished the sight of the spectacular creature as it made its graceful, yet short, appearance.

“Let’s go, son.” Joan tugged on her child’s hand as she started walking once more; following the main road towards the towering Castle Dracosir. They had only moved a few steps when Roger opened his mouth to speak, what he said froze his mother on her tracks. “When I grow up, I want to ride on a dragon!” He said excitedly. “ROGER!” His mother suspired in shock and let go of his hand. “I am appalled by what you say! Dragons are wild beasts, DANGEROUS beasts! How can you aspire to such imprudence?!” She said, visibly distressed. “But... There was someone riding it! That means it must not be so unsafe! And they are probably friends, so the drago-” “FRIENDS?!” Joan cut him off. “You cannot be so foolish to believe that such a creature can be befriended! They were tamed, that’s for certain, but that doesn’t make them less dangerous.” “Yes, it does!” “No, it doesn’t. And I will not continue with this absurd conversation.” She said firmly.

Joan seized her son’s hand once more and resumed walking. As she scanned her surroundings, she realised that many people around the market were looking her way, their attention drawn by the recent squabble. Some of them looked unconcerned, but others seemed irritated and surprised. They must be offended that I insulted their beast-loving ways. Joan thought coldly. Dragons are most likely a common sight in this realm, and children are encouraged to see these evil beasts as noble beings. She shook her head in exasperation and picked up the pace, hoping to escape the gawping locals and their influence on her son.

Silence took over both Joan and Roger as they made their way to the castle. The atmosphere around them was cheerful; the people mingled with each other and enjoyed a calm afternoon. However, mother and child seemed oblivious to this, as a gloomy feeling struck the two of them. Joan knew something wasn’t right.

They arrived at the main gates of the castle soon after. Many guards stood in front of this barrier, their solemn conduct differentiated them from the ones the pair had encountered before. Joan looked around for the barracks she had been told about and, auspiciously, it didn’t take long for her to spot the conspicuous banner hanging over a large door. She moved towards the building with Roger by her side and inspected the banner more closely; a black dragon on a red background. Unsurprising. Joan thought. No doubt dragons are held on a high pedestal in this realm.

There were two men in armour conversing near the entrance to the barracks. When they saw Joan approach, they redirected their attention towards her. One of them, the older between the two and the one who showed more than one battle scar, regarded her with caution and spoke in a firm tone. “These are the Dragon Knight barracks; do you have any business to attend to?” Joan took a step forward and answered. “Yes, I am looking for information about my father; he arrived at Aenaroth through a small portal a long time ago. I was told they keep records of everyone who came into this realm.” “How long has it been since your father’s arrival?” The soldier asked. “It’s been almost thirty-four years.” She answered. The man shook his head. “Records aren’t kept of everyone, miss…” “Joan.” She finished his sentence. “Joan… If your father fought for the stability of this realm, then his name will certainly appear on the records, but be warned that not everyone who ended up in the Dragon Vale while it was in turmoil stood against the forces of evil, let alone survive such catastrophe.” Joan took a deep breath. “Of course.” She replied. The scarred man then casted a sidelong glance at Roger and cleared his throat. “But… There are quite a few survivors.” He nodded, Joan sighed. She realised it was highly unlikely that her father had survived. Maurice’s death, however, would explain why he never returned and, in a way, was the resolution that Joan had expected. To think that her father may not have forsaken his wife and daughter brought some calmness to her mind.

“Mom, could my grandfather have become a Dragon Knight?” Roger spoke, a glint of admiration in his eyes. This inquiry overwhelmed his mother with fear and repulsion. She did not hesitate to crush her son’s expectations, for they represented the worst-case scenario. “I sincerely hope not, son.” “Well, I do hope so!” Roger countered. “Then he would show you that dragons aren’t evi-” “Enough!” Joan snapped. “You tire me with your witless remarks, Roger! I won’t condone your dragon taming compulsion as long as I draw breath!” Her voice strident as she stared her son in the eyes. Roger looked away, tearing up while his mother returned to face the two men once again. The soldiers shared a look and tried to maintain a neutral expression, but the younger man felt the urge to speak. “Excuse me Miss Joan, but I thought I heard you say dragon taming?” He emphasised the last word he pronounced. His companion gave him a stern look, but their gazes didn’t meet. “Indeed.” Joan answered, her demeanour rigid. Following this response, the soldier frowned ever so slightly. All four of them fell into an uncomfortable silence, eyes shifting between each other; expressing disapproval, annoyance and concern.

The first man in armour cleared his throat and broke the silence. “We would gladly escort you to the archives, Joan.” He said diplomatically. “Please do.” Joan answered, faking a relaxed manner. The man-in-arms gave a nod to his companion, signalling him to take the lead. The other soldier pushed the large door open and held it in place, allowing his friend to go first, followed by the two visitors. Soon he followed suit and closed the door behind him, positioning himself at the back of the formation.

[RedDusk]

As the guards walked silently down the path to the archives, the younger guard in front would fidget occasionally, readjusting the shield he held in his left hand, or changing the angle his helmet was mounted on his head. In the back, the older guard watched carefully over the group, especially Joan. Both guards were Dragon Knights, however the younger one was still in training, and in fact was an apprentice performing guard duty between his studies in the finer parts of being a Knight. A small emblem on the chestplates of the guards denoted their rank as Dragon Knights, with the older guard's being more elegant and refined. As they walked down the carefully built flagstones of the hallway, the armored feet of the two guards rebounded off the walls, the sharp clack of their feet marching in near perfect synchronization, all born from many hours of training.

After several minutes of walking, the group reached an ornate single door, inlaid with what appeared to be some sort of fine metal and displaying the symbol of a dragon, much like the banner that had been outside the barracks. The younger guard, without a word, opened the door, stepping through as it swung open and holding it in place for the rest of the party. As Joan stepped into the room, the sight of it flowed out in front of her, the sweeping walls soaring up to a roof many times the height of a man, pillars stretched along regular intervals, obviously supporting the roof. The room was truly massive, easily over a hundred meters in every direction, and that didn't account for what looked like offshoots and other areas off the main room. All around the room, massive shelving units were loaded with what appeared to be thousands of records, carefully placed in protective enclosures. Something incredibly interesting was the presence of numerous massive gates along some of the walls, huge wooden affairs that towered upwards of twenty meters toward the roof. As Joan's eyes swept across the room, the older guard coughed gently, indicating a desk next to a number of towering shelves where a young man sat, busily working on writing down something on sheets of what appeared to be paper. Leading her over, the pair of guards caught the attention of the attendant, causing him to set down the quill he was using to write with and stand with a slightly suppressed groan as cramped muscles stretched out. Upon reaching the desk, the two guards made slight nods of respect, as the young man exuded an air of importance, and began to speak. The older guard, hoping to prevent the apprentice's missteps from earlier, spoke first. "We're here inquiring about the status of a potential warrior in the record, he would have arrive during the chaos of the founding of the kingdom. This woman here says she's his daughter. His name was-" Here he paused for a second, frowning as he realized Joan had never said his name, but she was quick to provide it from behind him. "Maurice. Maurice Greysmith." Nodding, the soldier continued, flawlessly carrying on his sentence. "-Maurice Greysmith, Joan here says he left her realm some thirty-four years ago."

Nodding, the attendant mumbled something along the lines of "Wait here" and quickly set off for a group of nearby shelves, quickly vanishing behind them. Several long minutes passed by, in which both of the soldiers sat in awkward silence, both soldiers now fidgeting as time spread from a couple of minutes to more than ten. Then twenty minutes had passed. Around this time, the older guard indicated a couple of nearby seats for Joan and Roger, which the pair sat down in. Both soldiers remained standing however, their training left them experienced with standing for hours at a time. Finally, after nearly half an hour, the attendant returned, his empty hands spelling out what he soon reported himself, waving Joan and Roger over to join the guards. "I'm afraid there are no records of a Maurice Greysmith." Catching a glance from the older warrior, the attendant carried on without breaking stride "However, it is possible that it is simply a missed record. At the moment, we're working carefully to record those Knights who are close to death in age, or collecting the names of dead from those who knew them. It hasn't been more than a few years since we first started this movemen-" Out of nowhere, a loud snort of annoyance rang out from behind the shelves. A deep, booming voice rang out, reverberating through the air and giving off an immense feeling of unspoken knowledge. "Those who are Dragon Knights may not be remembered by the warriors of today, but there are those who knew them from the days before." The ground shook slightly a moment later, as the sudden figure of a dragon's head weaved around the bookshelf, its eyes fixing on Joan and the rest of the group, the shine of intelligence glimmering deep within them. "You said the name you were looking for... it was Maurice Greysmith, hmm?" Turing, the attendant inclined his head into a small bow, before raising his eyes once more to meet the dragon's head on. "I didn't know you were awake, Xanathar. It's been quite some time since you've taken an interest in one of the people seeking answers. What is it you know?"
The dragon's head swiveled slightly, eyes focused solely on the attendant carefully before returning to staring at the group at large. His jaws parted ever so slightly as he spoke, the slightest glimmer of the whites of his razor-sharp teeth visible as the words gracefully flowed. "What is it I know? A question few know to ask. Perhaps this is one question I can answer. I knew Maurice Greysmith. He fought alongside me during the cleansing of the Nexus.

As a Dragon Knight.

He lives in the towers of Dracosir now as one of the Life magic school's greatest teachers. However, he is known these days as Grey-eye the Wise." Xanathar's eyes swiveled to look purely at Joan now, watching her carefully.

[dragonsoul]

Joan froze in shock as soon as the dragon made its appearance. Standing so close to such a menacing creature sent icy shivers down her spine. The beast spoke in a deep, booming voice that reverberated across the entire room, conveying an immense feeling of unspoken hatred. What it said punctured deep into Joan’s chest, a feeling of uneasiness and soaring fury struck her mind like a stampede of wild horses. She paced forward, shortening the distance between her and the giant beast; leaving the rest of the group to stand behind her, worried about her intent. “Mom?” Roger called out in a subdued tone, but his mother could no longer hear anything besides the clattering of her own mind. The frightening cold that held her back now gone, replaced by a raging fire that blazed ardent in her body, mind and soul in equal distribution. She locked eyes with the dragon; the creature’s crimson-coloured orbs a clear testament to withheld evil.

“My father…” She said, eyes aflame. “A Dragon Knight.” Disdain apparent in her voice. Silence engulfed the entire chamber; disquiet breathing among the individuals was the only perceptible noise. It was the eye of the storm. “THIRTY FOUR YEARS!” Joan yelled. “THIRTY. FOUR. YEARS!” She repeated with unabating zeal. Her glare remained on the dragon, at that point their eyes akin, as the creature turned out to be the centre of her relentless onslaught. “My mother had to raise me on her OWN! My father left us when I was TWO, chasing an idiotic fantasy of gold and fame!” She took another step forward. “And now I find out that he’s ALIVE! That he didn’t return home because he preferred to stay in this realm, leaving his FAMILY behind!” She took a deep breath and paced forward once more. “And I’m sure he converted to whatever wicked beliefs are held on high regard here. Venerating wild beasts, teaching children that monsters are NOBLE and taming them is an act of HEROISM! Encouraging the entire POPULACE to stare at beasts in awe, beasts that only hold evil in their souls! EVIL THAT CAN BE SEEN IN THE CREATURE’S OWN EYES!” Tears running down her cheeks in rage, she took another step. “Of ALL the possible outcomes, my father had to become the HERO of an immoral, repulsive, beast-loving REALM!” Weeping quietly, she stood still. “I wish he was dead. That would have been the ONLY way I could have left this land in peace, but no, he is alive, and he surely lives a happy life with another wife and the SON he always wanted, and an ENTIRE GROUP OF DEVOUT FOLLOWERS!” Joan closed her eyes and lowered her head, deep exasperation steadily dispelling from her mind.

Xanathar kept his eyes on Joan, who stood close enough to feel the creature’s hot breath. The dragon’s expression remained neutral throughout the entire ordeal. He was either unimpressed by Joan’s behaviour, or chose to hold back his judgement, for the time being.

However, not everyone in the room was ready for a truce. The clacking of armour was heard behind Joan, as the young Dragon Knight stepped closer to voice his opinion. “This is unbelievable.” He said in annoyance. “You come here, looking for information about your father, and somehow you end up disrespecting all of us in this room and our realm as a whole.” The soldier stepped closer. “I will not sit back while you insult my homeland, oblivious to ALL it has been through. You need to learn some respect.” The older Dragon Knight cleared his throat. “Nathaniel, I do not think-” “I agree.” He was cut off by the attendant. “This woman tergiversated and affronted everything we stand for.” He nodded at the two soldiers. “She needs to leave, now.” Nathaniel nodded back at the attendant and moved closer to Joan, who was still keeping her head low, frozen in place. “That’s enough!” The other soldier said firmly. He stood before his friend and delivered a stern look before addressing Joan. “I understand your grief, Miss Joan. But insulting us all will not ease your pain.” He said calmly, Joan sighed. “I’m sure your father would gladly throw some light upon this issue.” The other knight interjected. “So, that’s it? Are you just going to ignore how she called us immoral, repulsive, beast lovers-” “People make mistakes, Nathaniel.” The older knight answered, but his companion shook his head. “No, there’s no excuse for all the things she said. She has shown no respect for any of us whatsoever, and I’m not going to pretend like it didn’t happen.” “A Dragon Knight!” The attendant joined in. “Your father has become a Dragon Knight! A title of upmost honour in these lands, and you are unable to show elation at such greatness!” “Exactly!” “Your narrow-mindedness is drawing you away from your father, when you should be proud of his prominent achievements!” “We have to escort her out, we can’t tolerate this.” “No, this is not proper.” “And is what she did proper, then?” “Of course not! But she was blinded by anger and-” “Blinded by anger? And that’s enough justification for every single thing she said?” An argument erupted between the three men, their voices getting louder and echoing through the massive room. Roger spoke, hoping to placate the people in dispute. “Please, everyone stop shouting!” Nobody paid any mind to the young child.

Joan opened her eyes and raised her head, rage returning as the argument intensified behind her. She turned around and faced the young soldier, ready to continue with her assault. A mighty roar shook the room to the core, forcing everybody into immediate stillness. “Silence!” Xanathar thundered. Everyone quieted down and turned to face him. The creature’s expression had changed.