Wherever it is that you find Caedra, it's obvious that something is off. Usually quick to spot someone walking up on her, and just as quick to react, instead she stands paused on her way to the shore, sits motionless in the orchard, or slouches at the speakeasy with a drink still in hand. Or, it might have been mid-conversation: one moment cheerfully discussing the failings of mortal creatures, the next moment silent. Or if you're particularly unlucky you may already have had a hand on her for some reason or other, which probably makes the abrupt change even more extremely confusing.
Welcome, people of Hadriel, to the Abyss.
The City of Rust It's a pleasant day in the city, Caedra thinks, as she makes her way down the main boulevard, recently widened to accommodate the growth in the layer's population. Shrieks and howls fill the air - locals bicker with each other over the prices of poisons, a quasit screams as a pack of its former companions tear it limb from limb in the middle of the street for some offense, and ahead, a pair of armanites herd captive mortal creatures of a variety of species off a grand 4-masted merchant ship, captained by a mercenary who greedily triple-counts the gems in the box he's just been handed. The river flows rapidly past, and in its yawning chasm the other side is just faintly visible through the red-tinted mists.
Carts in the square ahead are filled with a variety of exotic wares, and Caedra peruses them with curiosity. Mermaid leather is all the rage these days, according to one vendor, but she senses the fear in the creature's voice as it eyes her with apprehension. Another approaches with slight hesitation, offering jewelry stolen from the collection of another lord, which Caedra passes up as obviously counterfeit.
A sculpture towers over the city from a southern neighborhood, but it's easily visible even here. Made of black iron, and standing twenty feet in height, it stands on a hilltop, and with wings spread wider than it is tall, it is certainly imposing, although from this location it's hard to see what the sculpture seems to be peering down at. Buildings block the way, stretching for miles, each built in someone's individual style. It's the lack of cohesion that seems to define the city - the variety of things, and people, and structures, all piled on top of each other from centuries of growth, although none of it looks more ancient than a few hundred years.
And Caedra loves it. She smiles to herself as she continues on her trek, while the unruly crowds part around her like magnets repelled by some unseen force.
The Garden of Thorns It's much quieter here, where Caedra spends the bulk of her free time - and a good amount of her work is done from here as well. She flows from one place to another within the walled garden. Prunes her plants, makes her coffee (perhaps for a visitor), takes up a calligraphy brush to create something beautiful. The vines outside threaten to spill over the walls and overtake the scrying pool but she forces them back with the gift she was granted and they seem to retract on their own.
Hathya bounds over the wall, looking like some cross between a 10-foot long black panther and a porcupine, and nods to Caedra as the jarilith drops the mangled corpse of what looks to have been another's cambion, or an incubus, perhaps. A spy.
"It probably wasn't alone," Caedra replies as she kicks the body over, looking for an identifying mark. "We'll find the others."
Ironhold Palace Elaborate archways line the corridor that Caedra paces down, opening out into a courtyard filled with sprays of orange flowers on tall, thorned stalks. Caedra pays them no notice. Her mind is elsewhere, focused on her destination. An aide trots along beside her, recording as she dictates.
"Fifteen, I think. The priest and eight attendants, plus six guests that I could see. Mostly giants, although the guests were mixed - possibly servants, actually. I only had a brief look. Did you get the part I said before, though?"
Distantly behind, a klurichur tails them. Here, the guards have guards.
"Well you'll have to hurry up if you want to keep your head," Caedra comments coldly to her companion, whether they had responded or not. Invasions, after all, are serious business.
Caedra | OTA | CWs for most everything that happens in the Abyss
Wherever it is that you find Caedra, it's obvious that something is off. Usually quick to spot someone walking up on her, and just as quick to react, instead she stands paused on her way to the shore, sits motionless in the orchard, or slouches at the speakeasy with a drink still in hand. Or, it might have been mid-conversation: one moment cheerfully discussing the failings of mortal creatures, the next moment silent. Or if you're particularly unlucky you may already have had a hand on her for some reason or other, which probably makes the abrupt change even more extremely confusing.
Welcome, people of Hadriel, to the Abyss.
The City of Rust
It's a pleasant day in the city, Caedra thinks, as she makes her way down the main boulevard, recently widened to accommodate the growth in the layer's population. Shrieks and howls fill the air - locals bicker with each other over the prices of poisons, a quasit screams as a pack of its former companions tear it limb from limb in the middle of the street for some offense, and ahead, a pair of armanites herd captive mortal creatures of a variety of species off a grand 4-masted merchant ship, captained by a mercenary who greedily triple-counts the gems in the box he's just been handed. The river flows rapidly past, and in its yawning chasm the other side is just faintly visible through the red-tinted mists.
Carts in the square ahead are filled with a variety of exotic wares, and Caedra peruses them with curiosity. Mermaid leather is all the rage these days, according to one vendor, but she senses the fear in the creature's voice as it eyes her with apprehension. Another approaches with slight hesitation, offering jewelry stolen from the collection of another lord, which Caedra passes up as obviously counterfeit.
A sculpture towers over the city from a southern neighborhood, but it's easily visible even here. Made of black iron, and standing twenty feet in height, it stands on a hilltop, and with wings spread wider than it is tall, it is certainly imposing, although from this location it's hard to see what the sculpture seems to be peering down at. Buildings block the way, stretching for miles, each built in someone's individual style. It's the lack of cohesion that seems to define the city - the variety of things, and people, and structures, all piled on top of each other from centuries of growth, although none of it looks more ancient than a few hundred years.
And Caedra loves it. She smiles to herself as she continues on her trek, while the unruly crowds part around her like magnets repelled by some unseen force.
The Garden of Thorns
It's much quieter here, where Caedra spends the bulk of her free time - and a good amount of her work is done from here as well. She flows from one place to another within the walled garden. Prunes her plants, makes her coffee (perhaps for a visitor), takes up a calligraphy brush to create something beautiful. The vines outside threaten to spill over the walls and overtake the scrying pool but she forces them back with the gift she was granted and they seem to retract on their own.
Hathya bounds over the wall, looking like some cross between a 10-foot long black panther and a porcupine, and nods to Caedra as the jarilith drops the mangled corpse of what looks to have been another's cambion, or an incubus, perhaps. A spy.
"It probably wasn't alone," Caedra replies as she kicks the body over, looking for an identifying mark. "We'll find the others."
Ironhold Palace
Elaborate archways line the corridor that Caedra paces down, opening out into a courtyard filled with sprays of orange flowers on tall, thorned stalks. Caedra pays them no notice. Her mind is elsewhere, focused on her destination. An aide trots along beside her, recording as she dictates.
"Fifteen, I think. The priest and eight attendants, plus six guests that I could see. Mostly giants, although the guests were mixed - possibly servants, actually. I only had a brief look. Did you get the part I said before, though?"
Distantly behind, a klurichur tails them. Here, the guards have guards.
"Well you'll have to hurry up if you want to keep your head," Caedra comments coldly to her companion, whether they had responded or not. Invasions, after all, are serious business.