Morika Kevsecks, female gorebrute shifter druid
In Sharn, prior to the meeting...
The Last War had created many heroes, of many different kinds of war. And though the great battles were over, smaller ones, waged now more by spies, assassins, and diplomats dominated the scene. Not good news for a powerful nature scion with the subtlety of a lightning strike. Morika had felt herself to do great good in fighting for the Eldeen Reaches' freedom, but it wasn't something so easily set aside after the war ended.
She followed the gentle, beautiful Greensingers, the elf and fey-kin that inhabited the wilds of the forests, but she was not welcome amongs their inner conclaves. For good reason too, she was hardly one of them. A few of the moonspeakers had managed to penetrate that sacred circle, but Morika had been relieved not to have been invited. She would not have sullied their beauty with her presence.
So she had traveled, going from the wilds of the woods to the wilds of stone, lodging herself in Sharn after a time, finding work in dispatching natural menaces along the way, or bands of ruffians left over from the war. There was still work for her to do, but none of it had captured her imagination as her battles for the freedom of the Reaches had.
But this flier...
Nobles merchant houses and Xen'drik to boot? Now there's something worth doing. And mysterious as my dog's father, she thought with a harsh laugh, referring to an old joke about the mongrel dogs of the Reaches.
~~~~~~~
At the Meeting...
Morika looked about at the group as their potential employer broke the news. Some of them needed a strong hand in guarding, that was for fair. She only hoped they could fling their magic and arrows fast enough to avoid becoming paste. The Lyrander scion surprised her a bit, but with airship travel in the offing, it was comforting to know they'd be flying with an expert. Otherwise Morika would have thought about flying her own self!
Morika fancied herself the toughest in the room; for certain she was the ugliest and most scarred. Her heavy forehead and thick brown hair on her head, sideburns, forearms and shoulders marked her as a shifter, as did the hunched, nearly quadraped stance. Her nose had been broken more than once, and burn scars laced on shoulder. Claw marks tracked across the back of her left hand. In different to her employer, she showed no weapons, though bore a backpack easily. Her leather armor was well-worn and showed not a hint of damage, and she wore it with the air one might wear a suit of comfortable clothes.
"Fire, frost, hill giants, possible cloud and others, plus magic, and scorpions and possibly also the Emerald Claw? And you lost all those other people?" she asked rhetorically, her voice harsh as a crow's. She smiles, and it isn't a pleasent sight. "Sounds like a real fight. So, what're ya paying us, aside from these voucher bits? Vaguely generous doesn't get me on an airship, yer canny Lordship. And how long are you wanting us to search? I like a giant-infested jungle as much as the next fool, but I'd not want to be tramping around there from now until next Midsummer, ye ken?" Morika's use of the titles doesn't, quite, sounds insulting, but it's very clear she was raised far from any seat of power.
