Alara Rogard
Alara Rogard
Date of Birth
January 04, 1363
Children
Gender
Female
Eyes
Green
Hair
Auburn
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Pale and freckled, white
Height
64.0" (162.5 cm)
Weight
118.0 lb (53.5 kg)
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13-CRM-9578
"Foundation Commander Dr. Hern Mason and his newly wed wife, Aoda Mason were confirmed dead earlier this morning. It was apparently some sort of assassination plot by a Nyx out for revenge."
The clipping of the horses' steps played like a death roll as the two of us rode towards the town. I could feel the cold stagnation of the late autumn's wind stinging into my nose and cheeks, while the shadow leapt and dance within the confines of the shrub that hid him from our vision.
I rubbed my freezing cheek, "so we're hunting the killer?"
"Yeah. I reckon it'll a lot complexer than that, though."
"I doubt that's an actual word"
A shiver passed down my pine as the woods came to a clearing, and the reclusive coastal village came into view. I drew a breath to comment, but the icy cold bit the back of my mouth. Just a little further, and we'll finally be out of this.
We proudly rode into the village square, dismounted, and tied the horses to the stock. The town itself seemed deserted, which was odd, considering that it was the location of the FC's murder. There should have been hundreds of investigators, all prying for juicy details they could exaggerate and shove down the public's throat. I don't know, maybe it had something to do with that shadow.
Me and Sticky walked into the inn we were supposed to meet the Strike Force Commander at, only to find it, just like the town, completely abandoned. Sticky thought it'd be a great idea to go exploring, while I poked around the lobby, looking for anything that might clarify our situation.
There was an old wooden desk at the entrance. Usually it'd have a log that details when the last check in was. I didn't see one on the desk, but maybe it was in a drawer? I opened it. Nothing. Maybe there was something in the cabinet though? I wrapped my hand around the knob and pulled it open. And there she was.
A pale elderly woman with sunken black eyes and an unnaturally long tongue hanging from her mouth glared up at me from her perch within the cabinet. I stepped back and gasped, while she wrenched her mouth into an paranormal grin.
"Heello Alaraaa," she smiled.
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