Rivannah Fallowsun

It all started in the brothel in Silvermoon.

One of the other apprentices at the Academy (who I think had a crush on me) whispered in group about The Wandering Songbird. Word on the street was that all desires could be fulfilled there and he was going to check it out, and did I wish to come along? At first I was unsure, but he smirked and said that a mature woman such as myself should have nothing to fear from such a place. He was daring me of course, hoping I would come along and perhaps something would develop from there. I suppose I wasn’t above being baited at that point, even though I shrugged it off.

I admit I followed him there one evening after class. The bouncer saw me lingering outside and whispered to one of the...

Rivannah sauntered into the room, approaching the check-in desk with the hood of her cloak securely raised. Given the lateness of the hour, her effort was somewhat wasted as she seemed to be the only visitor. The young orc at the counter–dark hair held back in short pig-tails, covered in tattoos and gum-smacking as she organized papers and files–peered up momentarily with a bland expression.

“Greetings ma’am,” she said quickly in Orcish. “Sign in here please and take a seat.” She tapped the clipboard and gestured toward the waiting area full of chairs. “Someone will be with you shortly.” At that she went back to her paperwork.

Rivannah noted the runic tattoos on the orc girl’s neck, revealed more clearly...