Can I get a hell yeah

Side rp blog for protoss galore

[arianevass]

Just pure happiness and love. No evil. Just purity and innocence. I dunno what I’m talking about. But I look forward having a day off. LOL

Yes, I am still working on their names. 

[squeakitties]

strong, shirtless man: *gestures to biceps* check out these swords bro

guy: uhh… don’t you mean guns…?

strong, shirtless man: no *flexes with audible SHIIING noise*

[protoss-menagerie]

why is Misopatris Like That™ and how has he not been culled

He’s like that because he’s just a sweet soft boy on the inside but being born Tal’darim has turned him into a sinammon roll full of Posturing and Drama. Epistrontis takes things more seriously and is probably at least 75% of the reason that his brother never got stabbed (not that Epi isn’t also a sweet and kind boy on the inside, but he learned the lessons of the Tal’darim better).

[protoss-menagerie]

Misopatris 16

snrk

Miso is not the poster child for impulse control- no one who uses $300 hand cream is. He pokes his poor brother, makes his brother feel how soft his hands are, tries out new lotions on a whim, and decided to be a doctor on impulse (although he loves it).

@long-lost-protoss does Xyl or Ada want to talk about the parkour incident, or how Miso leaps on them to show his affection, or nah?

[long-lost-protoss]

Oh god the parkour incident

Xyldrun and Adarxos specialize in covert assassination, and a lot of their job involves them sneaking around and well, parkour. So the fact that while teaching, both Epi and Miso kept falling flat on their face was absolutely hilarious.

[catsbeaversandducks]

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“Again, Daddy! Again!”

By Каракет Ариэль

[protoss-menagerie]

@long-lost-protoss

[occasionalrpmemes]

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH MY CHARACTER? (an ask game!)

Understanding a character’s flaws is key to making them well-rounded and believable, so send me a number (and a character, if there’s more than one option) and I’ll tell you:

a trait they have too much of  (ex. too much pride = arrogance)

a trait they don’t have enough of (ex. too little pride = insecurity)

a trait they express in the wrong way

a trait they’re ashamed of

a trait they’re not ashamed of (but maybe should be)

a bad habit

something they do that hurts themself

something they do that hurts others

a reason (or excuse) they haven’t improved on any of the above OR

a way that they are improving on any of the above!

[long-lost-protoss]

what does Ta'lack's scar look like

He's got a big one right over his eye, but being a Tal'darim, hes got a lot of little ones too!

[justanotherrpmemeblog]

Reblog if your muse has scars.

[protoss-menagerie]

♬+ For Hannya and Onzi

Onzadyn was either asleep, or stubbornly pretending to be asleep because she knew full well that her living pillow couldn’t physically oust her from the couch. Hannya was feeling more than a little squished, but even after her strongest shove, the protoss had barely budged, so she had given up and resigned herself to being crushed. If she was spitefully humming a lullaby to try and annoy Onzadyn into awakening, well, the protoss would just have to call her out on it to get her to stop.

Really, it was good that Dynie was sleeping, if she actually was. It had been crisis after crisis, and even Hannya was feeling the strain. Poor Immardar and Onzadyn would surely be feeling the worst of it, since they were the ones actually in the line of fire when things spontaneously combusted. There was nothing wrong with sleeping off the stress of everything.

“Making a wish to let us go back to our homeland… Let us go back to our home, let us go back to our home, let us go back to our h-” Hannya didn’t know when she’d stopped humming the old lullaby and started singing.

At least Dynie still seemed to be sound asleep. Lucky her. Hannya knew that she couldn’t carry a tune to save her life. Embarrassed despite herself, she looked away from the cutely sleeping protoss and hummed a different tune. No one could prove anything… Right?

[protoss-menagerie]

“Immardar,” Hannya pretended to chew on her stylus to hide a grin at his expense, “I thought you said she had a full wardrobe.”

I said she likely had more than I did when I entered your service, Immardar huffed in response. Might I remind you that we both agreed that a single item of clothing was unfit?

Ignoring the mock-offended peacock in the room, Hannya turned to Onzadyn with a smile. “Apparently, the first time I took him out on one of these… expeditions, his armor got stained from all the soot and smoke. He’s been distraught ever since. I think that it can be cleaned off without much effort, but apparently I’m not the expert on protoss armor.”

Immardar put on an admirably snooty affect for a being without a nose. I look better clean, not covered in black smears from head to toe. It’s illegal to mar such beauty, you know.

“Immy! Stop that!” Hannya laughed, unabashedly, and chucked the stylus at his head; ignoring Immardar’s casual catch, she looked back at Onzadyn. “More seriously, or at least as seriously as I can manage with this comedian in the room, if I do have to make the trip you don’t have to come with me. I may not officially make the laws, but people do know about them- and sometimes I have to make examples of people who break them. If this person’s actually been smuggling more than guns without reporting it… The few things I don’t want being smuggled onto my planet are the ones that require examples being made.”

[long-lost-protoss]

Onzadyn tilted her head and half closed her eyes in humor, watching the exchange between Immardar and Hannya. It wasn’t unlike the people she had come to befriend on Bacchus. Her hearts longed quietly for their times in the mess halls, or out wandering the busy red light district. Sadie, with her golden hair and brilliant smile, always did her best to make Onzadyn feel at home. Perhaps, home could be here too. She let her thoughts drift slightly, unaware, before catching herself. No time for that now.

Onzadyn sat back on the couch and curled her legs to the side, tucking them partially under her backside. I wish to come with you, and be of aid. If any danger arises, one guard is better than two, yes? And besides, I would love to see how this golden peacock of yours is in combat. She shot a playful look towards him, her eyes crinkling at the sides. It should be interesting.

[protoss-menagerie]

“Mhm, hopefully not too much combat,” Hannya pretended to clean her nails, “I don’t like complications.”

What she means, Immardar said as he stuck the stylus in Hannya’s hair, Is that she gets disappointed when she can’t indulge her pyromania.

It was Hannya’s turn to huff in offense, as she groped through her hair for the stylus. “It’s not pyromania, it’s just good sense. You shoot someone, anyone copying them thinks they’ll get off painlessly. You set them on fire, anyone copying them takes a good long look at the corpse and thinks real hard about whether it’s worth it.”

As I said; pyromania.

“I could tell Onzadyn that you’re useless in combat.”

I could break that couch in half with one leg.

Neither party had any real harshness or tension in their words. This sort of playful banter was almost certainly common between them. For all the play-acting Hannya had done amongst her fellow terrans, she was much stiller and quieter now. It would make sense for the crime lord to have a hundred masks for a hundred situations; maybe this, too, was a mask, but it surely had to be closer to her true personality than anything before. And, on the opposite end of the spectrum, Immardar was far more mobile and expressive with his body language than he had been while planetside. He was less likely to be completely genuine in this moment, but he seemed to be at ease nonetheless.

“Touche,” Hannya sighed, conceding the point. “Don’t worry, Onzadyn, there’s a reason people on Old Earth used peacocks as garden sentries. He’s loud and flashy, but he will kill perfectly fine. He just complains about the blood afterwards.”

It is inconsiderate of people to die messily. Some of us do care about our appearances.

The stylus went sailing through the air once again, and once more Immardar caught it before it reached him. This time, he held it behind his back, responding to Hannya’s glare when she touched her hair only to find it missing with an expression of feigned innocence. Surely, neither of them had ever imagined this being home for them when they were alone. Still, it seemed to work just fine for them- and there was certainly room in that home for Onzadyn, if she wished it. 

[long-lost-protoss]

She did miss it, in a way. The business of home life was something she had been sorely lacking in for more than half a decade. Though she wouldn’t be the first to admit it, it was calming to be among this kind of playful banter. Onzadyn sat as a quiet observer to their interaction, smiling and laughing lightly when the pen was thrown for a second time. She tucked her comforting cloak around her, nestling into the curve of the couch. 

Perhaps she could call this home, in time. 

[protoss-menagerie]

“Immardar,” Hannya pretended to chew on her stylus to hide a grin at his expense, “I thought you said she had a full wardrobe.”

I said she likely had more than I did when I entered your service, Immardar huffed in response. Might I remind you that we both agreed that a single item of clothing was unfit?

Ignoring the mock-offended peacock in the room, Hannya turned to Onzadyn with a smile. “Apparently, the first time I took him out on one of these… expeditions, his armor got stained from all the soot and smoke. He’s been distraught ever since. I think that it can be cleaned off without much effort, but apparently I’m not the expert on protoss armor.”

Immardar put on an admirably snooty affect for a being without a nose. I look better clean, not covered in black smears from head to toe. It’s illegal to mar such beauty, you know.

“Immy! Stop that!” Hannya laughed, unabashedly, and chucked the stylus at his head; ignoring Immardar’s casual catch, she looked back at Onzadyn. “More seriously, or at least as seriously as I can manage with this comedian in the room, if I do have to make the trip you don’t have to come with me. I may not officially make the laws, but people do know about them- and sometimes I have to make examples of people who break them. If this person’s actually been smuggling more than guns without reporting it… The few things I don’t want being smuggled onto my planet are the ones that require examples being made.”

[long-lost-protoss]

Onzadyn tilted her head and half closed her eyes in humor, watching the exchange between Immardar and Hannya. It wasn't unlike the people she had come to befriend on Bacchus. Her hearts longed quietly for their times in the mess halls, or out wandering the busy red light district. Sadie, with her golden hair and brilliant smile, always did her best to make Onzadyn feel at home. Perhaps, home could be here too. She let her thoughts drift slightly, unaware, before catching herself. No time for that now.

Onzadyn sat back on the couch and curled her legs to the side, tucking them partially under her backside. I wish to come with you, and be of aid. If any danger arises, one guard is better than two, yes? And besides, I would love to see how this golden peacock of yours is in combat. She shot a playful look towards him, her eyes crinkling at the sides. It should be interesting.

[protoss-menagerie]

All my fault? Immardar drew himself up, looking down at her with humorously exaggerated outrage. You startled me. I have only the one trick, you know! What else was I supposed to do? Actually attempt to de-escalate the situation like a normal protoss? I kick things. I don’t talk with them.

He smiled easily, the joke finished, and settled back down. The door up there is the cockpit, and you know where you entered from. The other one is quarters and the cargo area. The large door without the keypad has a shower, and you can raid it for clothes, too, if you feel inclined to do so. They might be a little large for you, but it is what it is.

[long-lost-protoss]

Onzadyn only rolled her eyes, meeting his exuberantly bewildered gaze with her own. Well, I guess you’re all brawn then. Wonder where the brains went. She teased, smiling mischeviously at him.

With the directions given, Onzadyn stretched out her legs and shuffled off the couch. A hot bath would be welcome after an eventful day. Time to recharge, and let her muscles relax. She had neared the edge of the room before she hastily turned, looking around before catching his eyes. Thanks, Immardar. For listening. And with that, she ducked around the corner.

She could get used to this.

[protoss-menagerie]

Immardar stretched out his long legs before reluctantly rising from the couch. There was nothing wrong with lounging about like a peacock, it was in fact his favorite activity, but he might be better served by at least pretending to be useful while Onzadyn was otherwise occupied. With that thought in mind, he sought out his employer.

Hannya herself was busy with accounts, carefully setting up the stipend for Onzadyn, as well as other minutia involved with the hiring process. Gone was the fancy outfit, heavy makeup, and dramatic flair she had clothed herself in during seeking and buying what she wanted. Her current apparel was much shabbier, much more worn, and far comfier; instead of a knowing smirk or an amiable smile, she was busy chewing on a stylus as she managed money. Immardar leaned over to look at her work, crossing his arms over the top of her much smaller chair.

I do not think she will need to borrow one of the tailors for anything, so you may not wish to take that into account.

“No?” Hannya hummed around the stylus. “So you’re just a peacock, then?”

Immardar gave her an expression of humorous acknowledgement, and didn’t dispute her assessment. I also didn’t have much in the way of wardrobe prior to my employment. I suspect that Onzadyn has the advantage of me, there. I didn’t ask; that might have been rude.

She nodded sagely, and continued to make edits. “Duly noted. Anything else worthy of my attention, or did you spend your time gossiping about me?”

Gossip? Me? Oh, never. I only tell confirmed truths about you.

“That’s scarier than gossiping would be, frankly.”

[long-lost-protoss]

The bathroom she turned into was smaller than she had anticipated. Wide-set panels lined the floor of the room, with similar Terran structures along the walls. Human utilities were as expected, but what got her was the shower. It was…large, to say the least. It appeared as though it had been modified to fit someone to her stature than to a human’s. Probably for Immardar. She hummed to herself, standing at the threshold of the room. Well, time to bathe.

Her shower didn’t take very long, and was rather pleasant. Some soaps she recognized as concoctions fitting for her skin, which she used happily. Some vague thought crossed her mind that they smelled familiar, but promptly dismissed it. She found towels to wrap herself in, and shuffled into the closet area Immardar had spoke of. 

Not that her clothes weren’t dirty, but by the Gods, there was a decent amount for her to choose from. All sorts of textiles, patterns, and colors lined the inside area. She decided against being gaudily flashy (like someone she knew), and opted for a more toned down shirt and a pair of slightly baggy shorts. Once she was dressed, she donned her cape and accessories and sent a searching pulse out to find where the other two had gone. 

[protoss-menagerie]

A warm thread of thought caught her pulse and hummed gently in her mind. Immardar was sending her an amiable, wordless “all-clear” and acknowledgement of her searching thought. He didn’t go so far as to invite her to join them- that might be too presumptuous -but it certainly gave no indication that he would mind either.

Hannya had changed locations from a chair to a human-sized futon, and occupied herself with yet more minutia of running all her various organizations. Various black market items were run back and forth from her planet; weapons and armor to her gangs, tools to the nominally anarchist groups that she pointed in the direction of the equally-nominal planetary government, recreational drugs to pushers, and the life-saving drugs went to back-alley doctors. Immardar still had trouble believing how prohibitively expensive healthcare was in the Kel-Morian territories, nevermind that slavery was still both legal and economically subsidized. Terrans were weird.

[long-lost-protoss]

Once the all-clear was received, she began padding her way towards his energy. The pulse wasn’t hard to track, considering it wasn’t very far from her, and it gave her a chance to look around the ship before meandering that way. Onzadyn took her sweet time wandering the halls, touching a worn metal panel here and there. The construction of the ship was more obviously Terran in these halls, and in some places she had to duck to avoid hitting the frame of a doorway. Oh well. The price one pays for keeping the company of Terrans.  Besides, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. She owed a debt to this woman now, and she wasn’t the kind to skip out with that on her shoulders.  After a short time of walking around and getting accustomed to this new environment, she made her way to the room. When she arrived, she quickly surveyed the room. Onzadyn had never seen Hannya without the expensive garb, but it didn’t come as a surprise to see that she had donned ‘comfy clothes’, as Sadie had put it once. Hannya seemed rather comfortable toiling away at whatever paperwork she was doing, so she turned to Immardar.  Well, what now? She asked towards him.

[protoss-menagerie]

Nothing much, Immardar replied, turning his head towards Onzadyn and smiling easily. This is the easy part of the job. We hang around here and watch her do the accounts, and stay quiet unless she asks us to do something, which she usually doesn’t. She does move around from chair to chair when she does this, but you don’t have to follow her around as long as she stays in the room. Responding to rhetorical questions with humor is encouraged by me, because she reacts amusingly when I do it.

Really, it wasn’t that Hannya was comfortable with all this math. She was good at what she did, but she worked very hard at it to become that good. But someone had to do it, and it was far easier to be cheated if you let someone else do it for you.

Speaking of cheated…

“Immy, do you think this week has been exciting enough?” Hannya considered the numbers with a frown.

Yes.

“Damn. I’ll try and schedule this “this extra income had better not be coming from something against my rules” talk for next week, then.”

I’ll wear my dark armor, for if you set things on fire.

[long-lost-protoss]

Dark armor? Now, that caught her attention. What ever would you need that for? She drifted her thought towards Immardar, hoping to disturb her new employer as little as possible. Hannya held more cards than Onzadyn did in their little gamble for the Artifact. However, Onzadyn did have the fact that Hannya now had double the protection to wager. On this planet, she imagined all the help she could get was beneficial.

Onzadyn shifted against the door frame, padding from her spot over to an unoccupied section of couch. It was a bit too small for her liking, but it would do. Now, she directed her thoughts to Hannya. If I am to partake in this ordeal surrounding 'dark armor', then I am sorry to inform that I am lacking in that category.

[protoss-menagerie]

All my fault? Immardar drew himself up, looking down at her with humorously exaggerated outrage. You startled me. I have only the one trick, you know! What else was I supposed to do? Actually attempt to de-escalate the situation like a normal protoss? I kick things. I don’t talk with them.

He smiled easily, the joke finished, and settled back down. The door up there is the cockpit, and you know where you entered from. The other one is quarters and the cargo area. The large door without the keypad has a shower, and you can raid it for clothes, too, if you feel inclined to do so. They might be a little large for you, but it is what it is.

[long-lost-protoss]

Onzadyn only rolled her eyes, meeting his exuberantly bewildered gaze with her own. Well, I guess you’re all brawn then. Wonder where the brains went. She teased, smiling mischeviously at him.

With the directions given, Onzadyn stretched out her legs and shuffled off the couch. A hot bath would be welcome after an eventful day. Time to recharge, and let her muscles relax. She had neared the edge of the room before she hastily turned, looking around before catching his eyes. Thanks, Immardar. For listening. And with that, she ducked around the corner.

She could get used to this.

[protoss-menagerie]

Immardar stretched out his long legs before reluctantly rising from the couch. There was nothing wrong with lounging about like a peacock, it was in fact his favorite activity, but he might be better served by at least pretending to be useful while Onzadyn was otherwise occupied. With that thought in mind, he sought out his employer.

Hannya herself was busy with accounts, carefully setting up the stipend for Onzadyn, as well as other minutia involved with the hiring process. Gone was the fancy outfit, heavy makeup, and dramatic flair she had clothed herself in during seeking and buying what she wanted. Her current apparel was much shabbier, much more worn, and far comfier; instead of a knowing smirk or an amiable smile, she was busy chewing on a stylus as she managed money. Immardar leaned over to look at her work, crossing his arms over the top of her much smaller chair.

I do not think she will need to borrow one of the tailors for anything, so you may not wish to take that into account.

“No?” Hannya hummed around the stylus. “So you’re just a peacock, then?”

Immardar gave her an expression of humorous acknowledgement, and didn’t dispute her assessment. I also didn’t have much in the way of wardrobe prior to my employment. I suspect that Onzadyn has the advantage of me, there. I didn’t ask; that might have been rude.

She nodded sagely, and continued to make edits. “Duly noted. Anything else worthy of my attention, or did you spend your time gossiping about me?”

Gossip? Me? Oh, never. I only tell confirmed truths about you.

“That’s scarier than gossiping would be, frankly.”

[long-lost-protoss]

The bathroom she turned into was smaller than she had anticipated. Wide-set panels lined the floor of the room, with similar Terran structures along the walls. Human utilities were as expected, but what got her was the shower. It was…large, to say the least. It appeared as though it had been modified to fit someone to her stature than to a human’s. Probably for Immardar. She hummed to herself, standing at the threshold of the room. Well, time to bathe.

Her shower didn’t take very long, and was rather pleasant. Some soaps she recognized as concoctions fitting for her skin, which she used happily. Some vague thought crossed her mind that they smelled familiar, but promptly dismissed it. She found towels to wrap herself in, and shuffled into the closet area Immardar had spoke of. 

Not that her clothes weren’t dirty, but by the Gods, there was a decent amount for her to choose from. All sorts of textiles, patterns, and colors lined the inside area. She decided against being gaudily flashy (like someone she knew), and opted for a more toned down shirt and a pair of slightly baggy shorts. Once she was dressed, she donned her cape and accessories and sent a searching pulse out to find where the other two had gone. 

[protoss-menagerie]

A warm thread of thought caught her pulse and hummed gently in her mind. Immardar was sending her an amiable, wordless “all-clear” and acknowledgement of her searching thought. He didn’t go so far as to invite her to join them- that might be too presumptuous -but it certainly gave no indication that he would mind either.

Hannya had changed locations from a chair to a human-sized futon, and occupied herself with yet more minutia of running all her various organizations. Various black market items were run back and forth from her planet; weapons and armor to her gangs, tools to the nominally anarchist groups that she pointed in the direction of the equally-nominal planetary government, recreational drugs to pushers, and the life-saving drugs went to back-alley doctors. Immardar still had trouble believing how prohibitively expensive healthcare was in the Kel-Morian territories, nevermind that slavery was still both legal and economically subsidized. Terrans were weird.

[long-lost-protoss]

Once the all-clear was received, she began padding her way towards his energy. The pulse wasn’t hard to track, considering it wasn’t very far from her, and it gave her a chance to look around the ship before meandering that way. Onzadyn took her sweet time wandering the halls, touching a worn metal panel here and there. The construction of the ship was more obviously Terran in these halls, and in some places she had to duck to avoid hitting the frame of a doorway. Oh well. The price one pays for keeping the company of Terrans.  Besides, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. She owed a debt to this woman now, and she wasn’t the kind to skip out with that on her shoulders.  After a short time of walking around and getting accustomed to this new environment, she made her way to the room. When she arrived, she quickly surveyed the room. Onzadyn had never seen Hannya without the expensive garb, but it didn’t come as a surprise to see that she had donned ‘comfy clothes’, as Sadie had put it once. Hannya seemed rather comfortable toiling away at whatever paperwork she was doing, so she turned to Immardar.  Well, what now? She asked towards him.

[midsaneart]

An awesome cutie Shelara for awesome @long-lost-protoss! P.S: I’m thinking about opening requests for traditional sketches like this one, what do you guys think?

[protoss-menagerie]

SHE’S SO PRETTY

[protoss-menagerie]

Sexy Boy

Keep reading

[snuffysbox]

a draw your OTP I guess???

credit and tag me if u use it please~

[protoss-menagerie]

All my fault? Immardar drew himself up, looking down at her with humorously exaggerated outrage. You startled me. I have only the one trick, you know! What else was I supposed to do? Actually attempt to de-escalate the situation like a normal protoss? I kick things. I don’t talk with them.

He smiled easily, the joke finished, and settled back down. The door up there is the cockpit, and you know where you entered from. The other one is quarters and the cargo area. The large door without the keypad has a shower, and you can raid it for clothes, too, if you feel inclined to do so. They might be a little large for you, but it is what it is.

[long-lost-protoss]

Onzadyn only rolled her eyes, meeting his exuberantly bewildered gaze with her own. Well, I guess you’re all brawn then. Wonder where the brains went. She teased, smiling mischeviously at him.

With the directions given, Onzadyn stretched out her legs and shuffled off the couch. A hot bath would be welcome after an eventful day. Time to recharge, and let her muscles relax. She had neared the edge of the room before she hastily turned, looking around before catching his eyes. Thanks, Immardar. For listening. And with that, she ducked around the corner.

She could get used to this.

[protoss-menagerie]

Immardar stretched out his long legs before reluctantly rising from the couch. There was nothing wrong with lounging about like a peacock, it was in fact his favorite activity, but he might be better served by at least pretending to be useful while Onzadyn was otherwise occupied. With that thought in mind, he sought out his employer.

Hannya herself was busy with accounts, carefully setting up the stipend for Onzadyn, as well as other minutia involved with the hiring process. Gone was the fancy outfit, heavy makeup, and dramatic flair she had clothed herself in during seeking and buying what she wanted. Her current apparel was much shabbier, much more worn, and far comfier; instead of a knowing smirk or an amiable smile, she was busy chewing on a stylus as she managed money. Immardar leaned over to look at her work, crossing his arms over the top of her much smaller chair.

I do not think she will need to borrow one of the tailors for anything, so you may not wish to take that into account.

“No?” Hannya hummed around the stylus. “So you’re just a peacock, then?”

Immardar gave her an expression of humorous acknowledgement, and didn’t dispute her assessment. I also didn’t have much in the way of wardrobe prior to my employment. I suspect that Onzadyn has the advantage of me, there. I didn’t ask; that might have been rude.

She nodded sagely, and continued to make edits. “Duly noted. Anything else worthy of my attention, or did you spend your time gossiping about me?”

Gossip? Me? Oh, never. I only tell confirmed truths about you.

“That’s scarier than gossiping would be, frankly.”

[long-lost-protoss]

The bathroom she turned into was smaller than she had anticipated. Wide-set panels lined the floor of the room, with similar Terran structures along the walls. Human utilities were as expected, but what got her was the shower. It was...large, to say the least. It appeared as though it had been modified to fit someone to her stature than to a human’s. Probably for Immardar. She hummed to herself, standing at the threshold of the room. Well, time to bathe.

Her shower didn’t take very long, and was rather pleasant. Some soaps she recognized as concoctions fitting for her skin, which she used happily. Some vague thought crossed her mind that they smelled familiar, but promptly dismissed it. She found towels to wrap herself in, and shuffled into the closet area Immardar had spoke of. 

Not that her clothes weren’t dirty, but by the Gods, there was a decent amount for her to choose from. All sorts of textiles, patterns, and colors lined the inside area. She decided against being gaudily flashy (like someone she knew), and opted for a more toned down shirt and a pair of slightly baggy shorts. Once she was dressed, she donned her cape and accessories and sent a searching pulse out to find where the other two had gone.