"I have a reputation now?" Etna scratches her head curiously. "I'm not sure that's a good thing... And besides, anyone could have cleaned up that goblin den in Cragennow, their cave was practically tumbling down around them!" She gives a lighthearted chuckle, but it does little to dispel the clear discomfort in her tone. This was her first time in the city, nevermind in the halls of the Duke himself. And besides that, she was hoping very dearly that none of the wanted posters with her likeness had followed her here. There was still a swathe of good country that wanted her head. In the meantime, she wasn't intending to bring it up in conversation. Surrounded by stone and blustering aristocrats wasn't her idea of good table company.
The contract itself had seemed to be the usual format, despite the obvious ducal seal emblazoned on the notice. She wasn't expecting others. And yet here they were.
One lord, so high on his station he seemed to have trouble seeing, what for the puffing out of his chest and the peering down his nose. Etna hadn't had the 'pleasure' of meeting many dignataries before, and none of those minor country princelings made her half as ill at ease as this one. Despite the Duke's best attempts at being humble, he didn't come across as any less sinister. Something behind their eyes just put her off. The Duke's insistent servant however, had it written plain all over his face. She had been diligently avoiding his needlepoint gaze since she entered, but the feeling of it lingered on the back of her head.
The mysterious figure, as perplexing as he was rude, also disturbed the young hunter. He also had the air of a city dweller, but seemed far less coddled. To bargain with a duke surely takes some stones. Perhaps it was the mystique, the unpredictability of his character that perturbed her. Or maybe... he reminded her too much of someone else. A dark thought lingered in her mind like a stormcloud, but she shunted it to the back of her mind as she assessed the next person in her view.
The knight. Almost certainly nobility as well, and cityborn by the looks of it. But a romantic notion tugged at the back if Etna's mind. Lod had had many stories to tell of gallant knights-errant, brave warriors of justice and freedom. The words were still there, begging to be told again. To sit in a room with one inspired awe, and even though her experience had never been so glamorous, the sight of her promised to fulfil all those stories and notions.
The next was the unkempt man, the apparent scholar. Although she had seen the effects of magic manifest at her fingertips, she had never before met anyone who had made a study of it. His bearing lent itself more to the types of people she had once shared a home with, but his clothing seemed to be from the city. He appeared curious, both in personailty and looks.
Finally, there was one other. He was both very familiar and very intriguing to her. Clearly as out of place as she was confined in an ornate stone box, he held all the signs of having travelled. Etna knew just how fanciful her own story of how she came to be here was, and the notion that his might be as well piqued her interest. And that was before he gave a show of magic, not the kind of magic she expected either, but the same kind she was used to wielding. Never since her own awakening on that dewey morning had she seen another 'feel' nature like she did.
No longer able to contain herself, Etna stood up out of her chair. Standing in the firelight, she was relatively tall, with lithe, wiry muscle. Her plain clothes were strewn with patches if various faded colours, stitched on to fix the wear and tear of hunting. Her dark hair fell in loose tangles about her head, not unlike the crown of a willow. Calluses and scars marked her hands. Sensing the lull in the important business, she took the opportunity to get his attention. "I didn't catch your name. That... magic, that you did just now. How d'you do it?"