Jeane

I am the stones of this old place feel heavy underfoot—good construction, solid workmanship from an era when they knew how to build things to last. My wings shift restlessly at my back as we step across the threshold; enclosed spaces always make me twitchy, even after millennia. But the air here—the residue of magic, thick and oily—it sings to something deep inside me. Centuries of dust can't quite smother the scent of old power, and I find myself already scanning for sigils etched into the stonework. The others seem nervous—especially the cleric with her shiny little amulet—but nerves are easily exploited when properly managed. I'll keep them useful for now; their mortal strengths have uses that my own nature lacks. But make no mistake—the moment their purposes conflict with mine, those uses will expire very quickly indeed. For now though, we have a tower to explore and secrets to uncover. And I mean to claim every last shred of arcane knowledge it contains before this little adventure is done.