A silver belladonna necklace caught Varsinya's eye. This man was huge. This was a weird day. It was okay though, she thought. Never was there a time, even when she was a little girl, that the days leading to the full moon had her on edge, her surroundings a bit surreal. Headstrong, however, she decided it could indeed be a sign from Ezra. She heard the sound of a violin too. It could be Hardy.
Varsinya approached the man with the red hammer.
"Buna Ziva," she said reluctantly, attempting to get his attention with a smile. Dressed in her wimple, habit, and veil, with a wooden-carved necklace hanging from her neck that had carved in it a shield and sword with a sprig of belladonna, the red hammer man also noticed her skin the olive tone that marked her as one with vistana blood. Of course, she was not a true vistana, lest she be with her tribe and not wandering the festival alone. Still, the mystique was there within her.
"I do not know you," she said awkwardly to the man with the red hammer, "but could it be that there is reason you where a sprig of belladonna, as do I?"
"I am Varsinya Weissritter, of Immol. It is a fine day for the festival, da?"
Diplomacy with red hammer man: d20+3 (-2 Outcast Rating Half-Vistana)= 13.
The Red Condor shrieked at Sir Darvig in full wrath. Wings flapped storms of fire across the sky. "The Mage-God grows in power swifter than it appears to Paladine. This I know. A warning," Sargonnas told Darvigl, "for you to give to Paladine in your prayers."
“I will,” Darvig uttered.