A dilapidated cottage on the outskirts of town hardly looked as though it had any importance as a meeting place. An ancient looking woman hobbled through its creaking door, hunched over while swathed in layers of patchwork fabric.
'Complete with milky tan eyes, hair the color of ash, and liver spots dotting my hands.'
Elua's illusions transformed her into the visage of the mysterious sigil master crone. It had been a while since she had to use it, but with her Breacher level of spirit and wealth of experience… it was as simple as breathing.
A broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed beard stood waiting inside by a rickety table. His crisp uniform marked him as a member of the Saltfire Storm Alliance. Though she was *pretty* sure it wasn't the one she had negotiated with so long ago. His spirit rippled with 'impatience', but it was masked on his face as he turned her way.
"Ah, the hour grows late. I trust you've brought what we need?"
