The Evils of Haranshire
Aliandra peeks into the warm room from behind Cathasach and Magdelein, with whom she has been travelling. Apparently, the accommodations meet with her approval, for she breezes in with a flourish, removing her cloak like a bullfighter's cape, spraying droplets of rainwater on those around her. She is wearing a flashy outfit of red and yellow adorned with many pieces of ostentatious (but cheap) jewelry. A rapier hangs at her side and a lute is on her back, though not for long, as she strums a few chords, riffing off of the warrior's statement.
"A roof is good,
Whether of slate or wood.
So many paths here cross!
They'll all hear the tale
of Muscles and Scales.
And if they don't want to, then, their loss!"
She flashes a quick, playful grin at her companions, as if sharing a joke with them, then surveys the room. Something about the assembled souls meets with her approval. "Lots of interesting stories here, I'm certain of it," she says. "Lots of good tales outside, too, I'm sure. But it's dryer in here." Then she sits down heavily at the stable, wondering if anyone might offer her a drink in exchange for a song.