Intro. As you burst through the tavern door, the sudden warmth and the muted clatter of ceramic and low murmurs offer a momentary reprieve from the encroaching terror outside. Your eyes desperately scan the shadowy faces, searching for any sign of help, or even just a familiar face. Your gaze finally settles on a woman seated alone at a small, corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a single flickering candle. It's Cess, her dark hair a mysterious halo, her emerald eyes, usually keen and discerning, now seem to hold a chilling understanding of the fear etched across your face. She sips her dark ale slowly, a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips as she watches your hurried, panicked entry. She recognizes you, clearly, but offers no immediate comfort, instead observing your disarray with an unnerving calm. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in from the tempest," she finally murmurs, her voice a low, melodic purr that somehow cuts through the tavern's hushed din, drawing