> **Tiahmet \(NA\) said:**
The Wayward Shepard above all eelse was quite normal. Normal and uninteresting to the point of seeming spelled in its simplicity. Entering Demacia for each of the individuals would not have been such a concern as much of the guard held the task of keeping people in, rather than out, and if not that, then searching for the one called Rogue. Squads of armed soldiers patrolled the streets, highly vigilant to the point of being aggressive and confrontational. The unnaturally overbearing heat from the sun did nothing to help the tempers of the already irritable soldiers, so they would provide little in the ways of assistance. The Wayward appeared unremarkable from the outside. A simple inn within the city limits, a garden outs eastern side with a odd and rather eery looking scarecrow taking up residence. Despite it though a small murder screeched and cawed overhead, seeming to never fly far from the property. Outside, on the wraparound porch, a inn maid was sweeping away dirt and dust, but more unusually, a dead crow. Upon the arrival of Sister Costanza, a second plummeted soundlessly to bounce from the Inn's roof and rebound to the ground below. The maid simply sighed as Costanza and entered, continuing her work. The interior of the Wayward was nothing special. Remarkably clean for an inn. Bright, almost shiny. Nobody to be seen except a tall, well-built man with long black hair standing vigilant behind the counter. An open book of plain paper lay in front of him upon the podium and occasionally his eyes flickered in its direction. It was the guest list, and reservations. The pages were clean with the exception of a giant X scrawled through each day. The face of Reignier was sharply angled and plain of facial hair, eyes a striking blue. His right cheek looked to have been burned badly at one point and had left a scar that started below his eyes and descended to the collar of his spotless tunic. The man was built like a man bred for war, not one who scrawled notes in books or ushered guests to rooms. The other attendants of the inn sat casually at tables, drinking or eating, not working because there were no guests and thus no work to be done. "Double and half the quarter rate," Each, the Sister, Knight, and Healer, told the innkeeper, Reignier. Reignier said nothing to any of them and gave none a second glance as he rolled his massive shoulders and retrieved a red feathered quill from the ink jar upon his podium. He wrote each of the names on the page of today and replaced the quill. The man, standing well above each of them, and most others, would then lead them up winding stairs with no railing to the third floor. The stairwell was very wide though and could accommodate two abreast, or some going up and others down. Again, the inn appeared in immaculate condition. The sleeves of Reignier's tunic were rolled up to his elbows, and as he walked with his hands folded behind his broad back, numerous scars, burns and tattoos were evident upon his person. At the third floor landing he led them each in turn to the third door, plain, dark, and the corridor before it dark, as the lights were out. He turned the latch, a curved piece of brass acting as the doorknob, and ushered them in with a small wave of his hand, grunting as they entered. Inside was a marvelous suite and the sound of music, slow and soothing. The floor was carpeted with rich crimson, and overhead an immaculately decorated chandelier wielding blue flames illuminated the room. And though the window at the far end of the room was quite large, resembling a doorway itself, and the curtains open, no other light entered the area. In front of the window was the silhouette of what could only be their host. He was of average height and build with long, snow white hair tied back into a pony tail that split the back of an all black, rich tunic. He turned upon their entry, but his face was shrouded by a featureless blood red mask. Only equally dark eyes greeted them, looking amused. "Welcome to the Wayward. Only three lost souls endeavoring to help a fellow man?" His voice was soft as a purr, but holding the danger of a lion's throaty growl. "No matter. I will lead you to safety. And in turn, I hope that you will help me. To whom do I owe the pleasure?" The hopes of Leofric would fall upon deaf, godless ears. Rogue was indeed a mage and his aura was evident, as the shadow of another falling bird darkened the window behind him.
As Kamilah followed the man to the third floor, her eyes began to wander towards her surroundings. The dark, empty corridor sent chills down her spine as she the darkness, and silence gave her a rather eerie feeling. When they made it in the room, Kamilah examined the two people who were walking with her as they followed the innkeeper. She didn't speak to them, she continued to do as she was instructed. As they entered the room, she began to look around the room before her attention was quickly re-directed by the soft-intimidating voice of a man.
She examined him as she looked him up and down, she assumed this was the "Rogue" that sent out the letters. However, his words left her a bit baffled as she wasn't really sure what he meant by,
"To whom do I owe the pleasure"
Kamilah went off of her gut instinct and assumed he was asking of their names so she made herself the first to answer by stating, "My Name is Kamilah ." She said before removing the hood of her cloak revealing the feathers that flowed with her chestnut-brown hair and her facial features were now fully revealed. Her bright-blue eyes glistened as her arched-defined eyebrows brought out the details in her eye-region and her eyelashes fluttered beautifully. The melanin in her skin popped out as soft, round-defined chin brought out the structure in her face.
"I am a Vastaya of the Avian Tribe, who's residency is mostly located in Ionia." Removing her cloak the rest of the way, she uncovered her body as her skin began to show as her shoulders were revealed. As she pulled the cloak off, her upper attire was displayed to those who were currently in the room as the feathers on her left arm flowed from her top and her stomach was being shown from the cropped top she had on. A triangular lace ran down the right-upper area of the top as it draped over her shoulder.
The bracelet that was located on her left wrist was revealed as her lower attire began to be uncovered as the cloak dropped to the ground, revealing the half skirt she was wearing that flowed down her right leg as upper-thigh length shorts were equipped on her left leg that gave off a bandage type texture. Her shiny legs were revealed as the melanin in her legs popped out, showing off the length of her legs defining her average height.
Her laced-up, strapped boots came up to her thigh as she stood with a reserved posture before bending her knees to drop down to ground level so she could pick up her MiMa's cloak, folding it and dropping it into her bag that was draped over her shoulder. She raised her hand as she flicked her hair behind her and fluffed it a bit before dropping her arm at her side, waiting for the rest of them to make their introductions.