Until the age of five she grew up in Eston with her mother, spending most of her time at the Warforged research facility where her mother worked. This early experience ingrained in Sera a deep love and fascination with the Warforged, and all types of sentient constructs.
Sera is wicked smart, but has a serious case of mania. She will speak on the topics of architecture, engineering, arcane forces, and all things Warforged for great lengths and at a speed so rapid that blood may shoot out your ears.
As a member of House Cannith who manifested her Dragonmark very young, she is quite adept in the creation and construction of a wide variety of things. One of the most common things you’ll hear her say is “I can make that.” She is quite proud of the drawings and schematics for Mr. Snuggles that she has been working on since the age of five, and will show them to anyone willing to sit and listen.
Being an naive, innocent, fifteen year old girl, she is not one to drink alcohol, or use other intoxicants. She carries with her wherever she goes an Everfull Mug that produces water, milk or juice. She will only pull this out in a restaurant if they do not serve those beverages, but will expound on the necessity for every adventurer to own one…along with a few other things that she assures she can make, and make cheaper.
Tales From My Youth
A few stories from days past…before 2 Therendor 998YK.
What Happens When Your First Encounter With Intelligent Life is a Hyper Intelligent, Yet Incredibly Manic Five Year Old Girl.
Mol 23 Eyre 988YK
The control room vibrates from the activity in the adjacent creation forge. A huge window above the console allows visibility into the forge itself, a large cylinder with dials and switches on one side and a conveyor belt leading out the other. Behind the main console in the control room stands a middle aged woman with long flowing red-gold hair. Her long white dress flows down to the floor, giving her a regal look. An intense look comes over her face as she observes as she monitors the forges output.
“The forge remains stable with twice the output of previous models! The schema is working far better than expected.” The woman says, raising her hands above her head in triumph. “The barron will be very pleased with these results.”
Turning around she leans up against the console to watch her daughter, laying on the floor, drawing. The young girl, barely over five years old, kicks her bare feet back and forth as she focuses intently on her work. Her short blond hair is pulled back into a pony tail to keep it from getting in the way. Her pencil scritches out a last few lines and she nods decisively. “There! All finished!” she exclaims as she hops to her feet and spins around admiring her work.
“What have you been working on, Sera?” The older woman asks, a smile forming on her face.
“I will call him Mr. Snuggles.” The young girl says as she walks over to her mother to show her the drawing of what appears to be a large cat made of metal and gears.
“Mr. Snuggles? These spikes along his back would make him less than cuddly, I think.” The woman says, chuckling.
“Thats what makes him wonderful, mother. No one will expect him to be dangerous with a name like Mr. Snuggles.” Sera says, smiling, her blue eyes shining mischievously.
The woman smiles, looking down at her daughter bouncing on her toes. “Barely over five and your schematics are as well drawn as my own. Is this based off of the iron defender?”
“Well of course it is! As you can see I have added a few other features that should prove useful.” Sera says, smiling. “I’ve been watching Mrs. Rooles cats lately, hunting mice. I think its a better design than a dog, like usual. Dogs are so clumsy sometimes.”
“What a vocabulary she has Amara.” A mans voice says from the large doorway in the back of the control room. He strolls up to admire Sera’s design as the large steel doors slide shut behind him. “An excellent design, Sera. You may surpass you mother some day in sheer creativity.” He hands the drawing back to Sera, patting her on the head. She scowles at the man as he pats her, sticking her tongue out at him before fleeing back to the corner she was working in.
“Full of moxie isnt she, Amara?” The man says, turning to face the woman.
“She certainly is, Jachim.” Amara muses as she watches Sera pull out another piece of paper and begin to draw. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Amara asks turning back to check on the creation forge. “I don’t suppose you intend to lecture me on the flaws of my new schema again.” Amara says, smugly staring at the stable readouts of the console.
“No. It seems I was wrong about that.” He says as he looks over the console. “It would appear the schema is working far better than even you expected. No, I’m not here about your work. There is a messanger from Stormreach, from your father, in your antechamber. He wishes to speak with you right away.”
“From father? Is there word of Kaine?” Amara asks, spinning to face Jachim, a tall man with sandy brown hair and pale green eyes. His pale skin is stretched tight over his gaunt form as if he’s not eaten in years. “Certainly there must be word of my husband. He’s been in the jungles of Xen’Drik for months.”
“I’m afraid I do not know, my friend. All I know is that it’s urgent.” Jachim says, sorrow in his eyes.
Amara looks over at Sera, on the floor again humming to herself as she draws, seemingly oblivious to the conversation taking place. “I suppose I will not be here to see the product emerge for the first time, but she knows not to touch anything.” Amara says to Jachim as she watches her daughter lost in her own work. “Certainly you have work of your own to be completed.”
“That I do indeed.” Jachim replies. “She probably won’t even notice you’ve been gone.” He says, nodding at Sera.
The two large steel doors slide shut behind Amara, leaving Sera alone in the control room. Humming to herself she continues to draw. This time it’s appears to be a man, but also made of metal, with lidless eyes and an expressionless face. After a time the vibrations that had been steady in the control room cease abruptly. This drastic change startles Sera who rolls over, looking around.
“Mother?” She asks, searching the room. “Huh, I wonder where she went?” Leaving her drawings on the floor she walks over to the console and scans over the readouts. Frowning she jumps up and down to try and see through the observation window. Stomping her feet at her lack of success she stalks over to the door that leads into the main room of the forge and opens the door, peering in.
A tall figure stands on the conveyor looking towards the window. Made of wood and stone plated in a shiney metal. The figure, seemingly a statue, stands motionless, but his glowing green eyes speak of sentience.
Seeing the completed warforged, Sera enters the room and strolls up to the conveyor which sits above her head. Craining her neck back to look up at him she waves and says “Hello! Would you step down here? You’re far too tall as it is.”
The tall figure turns its head to look at the curious child whos bright blue eyes stare up in wonder. He steps down, two toed feet clanking against the stone floor.
Stepping back Sera nods in satisfaction. “That’s better. My head was going to fall off if I had to keep looking up like that. My name is Sera Kaylee Edison of House Cannith.” She says standing up straight and proud. “Have you found a name?”
“Name?” A deep, emotionless voice, emminating from the metal figure, asks. “What is a name?”
“A name is what you’re called.” Sera says, beginning to speak very rappidly. “Many warforged, like yourself, spend quite some time looking for a name that suits them. You might have to spend years before you find an appropriate one, but I thought that maybe mothers new schema would help that process along, or maybe give you one. I don’t really know how all of these machines work yet.” She gestures to the creation forge, the giant cylinder in the center of the room, and then to all kinds of devices hanging from the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the name Peter. There was a boy who lived next door to me for a while named Peter, but he moved away. It’s a good name I think. House Cannith will give you a serial number before too long, but many of your kind choose to take a different one. Some don’t though. I guess thats ok too.”
Staring down at the manic child the warforged tilts his head to the side, replying in his deep emotionless voice “I think Peter is good. I will be called Peter, Sera Kaylee Edison of House Cannith.”
Sera smiles up at Peter, teeth showing, and says “It is a pleasure to meet you, Peter. You may call me Sera. No need for titles and stuff. Sera is fine.”
“Very well, Sera. Tell me, what is this place?” Peter asks, looking around.
Plopping down on the ground sitting with legs crossed Sera begins to point around at different devices explaining what she knows of them. “Well, the large bit in the middle where you came out is the primary creation forge. The best one in the world. Mother helped build it. Mother says it gets very hot inside when its going. That big thing over the conveyor is a skrillish. Its for stamping the serial numbers into newly created warforged.”
Sera squeeks realizing that its too late to give Peter his serial number now that he’s off of the conveyor. Sighing she stands up. “I guess there is nothing to do about it now. Mother is going to be furious though. Would you like to see my drawings? Let me go get them!”
Without letting him answer Sera darts from the room. She returns shortly with a few pieces of paper, a pencil behind her ear. “Sit.” She commands as she turns to stand next to him. “You’re too tall.” Peter sits on the floor next to Sera and she begins to show him the drawings she had been working on all afternoon.
“This is Mrs. Roole’s cat muffins.” She says proffering a drawing of a grey and black tabby cat. “He’s very nice, but not too good at hunting. As you can see, he only has one ear and one eye.” Turning the page to another picture of a cat. This one solid black with white tipped ears, she says “This is Toolie. She’s mean. She scratched me when I tried to pick her up.” Sera displays to Peter three small scratches along her left forearm. “I’m ok though.”
Taking the drawing of Toolie from Sera, Peter asks “This one hurt you? I can retrieve it for punishment.”
Sera chuckles. “That won’t be necessary, Peter. Mrs. Roole told me not play with her, but I didn’t listen. She didn’t hurt me too bad anyway. I just won’t bother her anymore. Here look at this!” She presents the picture of Mr. Snuggles. “I’m going to make him one day, and I’ll call him Mr. Snuggles.”
“Mr. Snuggles is a good name, I think” Peter replies. “He is made like me, in one of these?” He asks, gesturing to the creation forge.
Frowning, Sera replies “I’m not really sure. I haven’t learned how yet, but I’ve seen things like this. They look like dogs, though, not cats. I like cats better. Cats know what you want, but they’re not just going to do it if they don’t want to. I think thats smart. Making your own decisions is a good thing.”
Sera pulls the drawing of the warforged she had been working on out to show Peter. “I was working on this when you came out of the forge. It’s not quite done yet, but you can look at it.”
Taking the drawing from Sera, Peter examines the first image of a warforged he’s ever seen. “This is what I am? I am very different from you.” He says, solemnly. “Why are we so different?”
Puzzeled, Sera looks up at him. “Well, I’m a human, and you’re a warforged. It’s just what we are. There’s lots of different races. We’re all people though. That’s whats important.”
“Can I keep this?” Peter asks, holding up the drawing of the warforged.
“I suppose so, but I have to sign it first. It’ll be valuable one day. I’m going to be in charge of my house when I grow up. Mother always says so.”
Peter hands back the drawing and Sera lays out on the floor, pulling the pencil from behind her ear, and signs her name in large, flowing letters at the bottom. As she does a bluish green mark begins to appear on her left forarm, full of loops and swirls, covering up the scratches from Toolie.
“Here you go.” She says, returning it to Peter. Noticing the mark she stops, still, staring at her arm. Her eyes grow wide. “I’m marked!” She exclaims. “Like mother and father I have the mark of making. Do you know what this means?! I will be important! Only a handful of people ever manifest the mark. Maybe mother won’t be so mad after all!”
“Oh I’m mad, alright!” Amara’s voice echo’s across the forge. “I told you never to come in here! Especially when I’m not around. What could have possibly possessed you to disobey me so thourally?!”
Ashamed, Sera’s head drops. Chin to her chest she mumbles “I’m sorry, mother. The forge had quieted down, and I couldn’t see through the window, so I opened the door just to peek. He looked so lonely in here all by himself.”
“We’ll talk about this later. Now, we must pack. We’re going to visit your grandfater in Stormreach.” Amara says, exasperated.
“We’re going to Xen’Drik!? Will we see father?” Sera asks excidedly, bouncing on her toes.
Amara winces at the mention of her husband, Kaine. “I’m sure we will.” She replies, but her voice lacks the usual enthusiasm. Sera doesn’t seem to notice.
Reaching out to take her mothers hand Sera turns and waves goodbye to Peter. “Goodbye Peter! May The Soverigns be with you!”
Amara looks down at her daughter, studying the mark on her forearm. Under her breath she mutters “What will become of this warforged? He certainly will not be normal.”
As the doors shut behind the strange little girl and her mother Peter asks to the air “What are ‘The Soverigns’?”
An amused mother.
Thir 5 Dravago 988YK
The common room of House Cannith’s enclave in Dragon Towers is large and lavish. Vaulted ceilings, held up by ribbed marble columns, display the grand architecture the house is known for. Delicate tapestries line the walls with fine paintings from across Khorvaire interspersed along with pottery from Xen’Drik on podiums as exquisite as the columns that hold up the ceiling. Filled with ornate furniture of the finest craftsmenship this room feels more like a kings throne room than the common area of a mercantile house.
Amara Edison d’Cannith lounges in a lavish arm chair watching her daughter inspect everything the room has on display. One of the clerks on duty follows closely behind Sera to ensure the child doesn’t touch anything valuable, muttering to himself “children cannot be trusted around such artifacts”, and passing irritated glances towards Amara, who, obviously more concerned about her daughters unyielding curiosity, just cocks her head to the side and smiles every time he does.
Dressed in an elegant red gown, white lace at collar and cuffs, Amara holds close a brown leather satchel containing something of obvious value. Many of the others in the room eye the satchel greedily, knowing it must contain something of great value, but keep their distance for fear of a vicious toungue lashing Amara is known for if they stray across unspoken lines.
She will surpass all of us one day. Kaine will be so proud to see his daughter grown, and outstripping the both of us combined, Amara muses to herself, tapping her forefinger against her lips. She won’t be leading the House. This is certain. She may, however, be the greatest artificer the House of Making ever produces. Hopefully father will not mind her spending time with him and his research. Sera would be heartbroken if she couldn’t be a part of the study of components harvested from the depths of Xen’Drik. Her love and fascination with the Warforged exceeds that of Kaine, and few match his enthusiasm.
Glancing around Amara notices a tall, young, man with dark hair, and even darker eyes enter the room. “Finally” she thinks, standing up. “Merrix has come at last. I wonder what took him so long?” She glides across the room to meet him, giving a gracious nod of her head to a distinguished collegue, but one not quite deserving of a curtsie.
The younger man bows to her graciously, saying “It is quite a surprise, but a true pleasure, to see you Amara. To what do I owe the grace of your presence?”
Patting the satchel slung across her shoulder she replies “I have created something I’m sure will be of great interest to you. Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”
“Certainly not, young lady!” the clerks exasperated voice echoes across the room. “This painting is an original Genny deRah circa 923. I highly doubt someone of your age could match it, let alone do better.”
Amara and Merrix turn to watch the foppish, balding, man shaking his head furiously at Sera who stands, back straight, with her fists on her hips staring up at him. “I could paint something better with my eyes closed!” she exclaims with more than a little sass in her voice. “And I would do it in an afternoon.”
Flustered, the man throws up his hands and storms over to where Amara and Merrix stand.
As he approaches Merrix, smiling, asks “Your daughter, I presume?”
“That she is.” Amara replies with a sigh.
“She has much of Kaine’s…how to put it…exuberance, does she not?” He asks, chuckeling.
“Indeed. One of the many bad habbits she inherited from her father.”
As the clerk stops before the two, mouth opening to berrate Amara, Merrix raises his hand to silence him before he speaks. “Calm yourself, Painel. Lady Edison’s daughter means you no disrespect, I’m sure. The three of us were just leaving.”
“Sera.” Amara calls to her daughter, who had already moved on to inspect a vase pulled from an ancient giant city in Xen’Drik. “Come over here. There is someone I want you to meet.”
Hearing her mothers voice Sera whips around, nearly knocking the vase from its stand. It totters for a moment before she manages to steady it. She then skips across the floor to stop between her mother and Merrix, looking up at them wide eyed.
Seeing the vase totter, and Sera touch it, Painel rushes over to ensure its safety, scowling at Sera as he passes. She scowls right back, turning her head to stick her tongue out at him over her shoulder.
“Show some manners!” Amara snaps at her daughter. “There are priceless artifacts in this room, and all Mr. Painel is trying to do is make sure that no harm comes to them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, mother. I didn’t mean to bump the vase. I was just startled. He didn’t need to look at me like he did. It’s not like I actually broke anything.” The young girl replies, innocence painting her face.
Sighing Amara looks towards Merrix. “Sera, this is Merrix, grandson of the man who first developed the Warforged. I thought you might like to meet him.”
Staring up at Merrix, eyes wide with wonder and admiration, Sera brushes her disarrayed blond hair from her face revealing ink smudges on her forehead to match those on her white linnen dress, and she curtsies deeply. Taking a deep breath Sera begins to spew a torrent of words, mostly incomprehensible to the bewildered man, full of questions and assertions regarding the Warforged, resolving with a “brief” retelling of her encounter with Peter.
Smiling, a deep chuckle eminates from Merrix. “I think you may surpass us all one day, my dear.” He says, patting her on the head. Turning back to Amara he asks “Shall we retire to somewhere more private?” He then turns and leads them through a large set of wooden doors at the back of the room, down a hallway, and into a small, caged, room.
Pressing a button on one of the walls inside the caged room Merrix turns his head towards Amara, saying “This is a lift, a wonderous innovation only possible here in Sharn because of a coterminous zone with the plane of air surrounding the city.” At that, the lift begins to move upwards, shocking both Amara and her daughter.
Merrix’s eyes gleam as he looks down to see the mark of making prominent on Sera’s left forearm. “Already marked I see. Rare for someone so young. Great things will certainly come from your hands.”
Starteled Sera looks down at her arm, and then looks up at the tall, hansome, man. “Oh, yes. It appeared when I gave Peter my drawing of a Warforged. I think he liked it.”
“Peter?” Merrix responds, turning to face Amara. “Who’s Peter?”
“He’s a Warforged mother created with her new schema. I got to talk to him a little bit right after he came out of the forge. He’s very nice. I do hope he will be alright. I know he must go to war, but surely The Sovereigns will protect him.” Sera says, nodding assuredly at her final statement.
Merrix’s face darkens as he stares at Amara. “You allowed a mere child to be the first to speak with one of our creations? Do you know what kind of havoc that will wreak?!” He exclaims, spittle launching from his mouth. “This will have repercussions for years to come!”
Amara draws herself up, raising her chin high, to reply to him. “How dare you criticize how I do research, and how I raise my daughter!” More than a head shorter than Merrix, in this moment she seems taller. “I will not stand it, not even from you!”
Stunned, Merrix draws his lips into a tight line, and then calmly replies “My appologies, Lady Edison, but you know, as well as I do, that the education of the Warforged is quite strict. Nothing can be done now. I will keep my eyes out for one called ‘Peter’. He will certainly require much study. Now, what is this new schema she speaks of?”
“The reason I have come to meet with you, of course.” Amara replies, coldly, patting the satchel. “It is far more efficient than any that have been used previously. I expected more from it than the previous models, but not nearly what resulted.”
At that, the lift stops and the doors to the cage open. Merrix leads the two down a long hallway to a small office. Fairly sparse, the office contains little more than a desk, a few chairs, and a half sized bookshelf with only a smattering of books. Merrix walk behind the desk, gesturing for the two to sit, as he plops down into a large, high backed, leather chair.
As she sits Amara pulls from the satchel an elaborate metal disk like object nearly an inch thick, and spanning a foot in diameter. Not truely a disk, the object seems to have had bits punched out of it in strange, non-geometric, shapes to form a great knot. She places it gently on the desk for Merrix to look at.
Staring down the mans eyes grow wide with delight. He then traces a few of the lines that make up the knot, a smile growing on his face. “This is brilliant! With some of the new designs I have been working on we can increase production by three fold, if not more!”
Tilting her head to the side, Amara replies “Three fold? I got about two with the forges we’re using in Eston. What have you changed to expect such output?”
“Many things, my Lady. Many things.” Leaning back in his chair, Merrix ponders to himself for a moment before continuing. “If you would be willing to allow me to keep this, I will give you copies of my schematics for the new forges. Between the two of us we can make Warfoged better, stronger, and faster than ever expected.”
Amara sits quietly for a while, thinking, as Sera attempts to peer over the desk, still above her head while squatting in the chair, trying to see the schema she has only heard talk of.
After a few moments Amara places her hand on Sera’s shoulder to settle her down, and looks across the desk at Merrix. “I cannot let the prototype leave my person, but I do have copies of all of my notes for you. I expected that you would see the value of the new design without needing to actually see it in action. Notes for notes should be more than fair. My father will want to see a completed schema when we see him next month. We will be heading to Stormreach in two days.”
Nodding, Merrix taps his fingers across the desk. “Notes for notes.” he replies. “You’re leaving on Sarday? Then you can attend the Tain Gala with me tomorrow evening. I’m sure that Lady ir’Tain would be most interested to meet you, and young Sera.”
Bowing her head to him Amara replies “We would be honored. You can provide me copies of your notes then, I presume?”
“Of course.” Merrix replies. Turning to look at Sera he says, smiling, “You are much like me, young lady, often covered in ink smudges from head to toe, but Lady ir’Tain will expect the both of us to be presentable.”
Smiling down at her daughter Amara says, “Baths and new dresses are in order. If we’re going to be ready for tomorrow evening we must be going.” Collecting the schema from the desk and placing it gently back in the satchel Amara stands. “Come Sera. We have much to do.”
Hopping up from her chair, Sera curtsies to Merrix saying “It was a pleasure to meet you. If you do find Peter, will you do what you can to keep him safe?”
“Of course, my dear. Of course.” He replies.
As the two exit his office Merrix muses to himself “Peter. That one must be found, and soon. He cannot be allowed to infect the rest of the stock. He certainly will if left unchecked.” He then pulls out a piece of parchment, and scribbles out a quick note. “The Barron must know of this.”
Standing in front of a stand mirror, Sera admires her new dress, a pink ball gown with a tight bodice, and puffy, frilly skirts. She smiles as she twirls around, her golden hair flying behind her. Losing traction due to her silk slippers she falls on her bottom with a loud smack, attracting her mothers attention.
“Are you okay, dear?” Amara asks, looking over her shoulder at her flustered daughter.
Rubbing her backside as she stands, Sera replies “I’m fine, mother. I do not like these slippers though. Are you sure I can’t wear my boots. I won’t fall down in those.”
“We’re going to a very fancy party, and boots would not be acceptable. We must make a good impression with Lady ir’Tain this evening. Her family helped build this city, and they are one of the most wealthy families in all of Breland. She would surely be offended if an heir of of House Cannith were to arrive in laborers boots. It’s only for tonight. You’ll manage.”
Sighing, Sera straightens her dress, and smiles. “This dress is quite pretty, don’t you think, mother?”
Amara sighs, as she has many times that afternoon, and replies “Yes, dear, you look quite lovely.” Thats the most ridiculous dress I have ever seen. Why did she have to be so insistant?
The seamstress, finishing up the final adjustments on Amara’s pale blue silk dress, stands. Nodding at her work she says, “How does it feel? Can you move properly?”
Turning and strolling to stand behind her daughter in the stand mirror Amara admires the two of them together, noticing the joyous look on Sera’s face, and smiles. “It fits like a dream. Thank you, Itsi. Take the purse on the counter as you go.”
As the young seamstress leaves she hefts the purse, eyes widening at the weight. “Thank you very much, Lady Edison. If you ever need anything else just let me know.” With that she exits the moderate appartments that were set aside for Sera and her mother.
“Lord Merrix will be arriving soon. Remember, don’t touch anything at Lady ir’Tain’s manor this evening. In fact, stay close to me. We want to make a good impression. There will be many important people there tonight, and you must be on your best behavior. I hear even Prince Oargev, and Princess Rinona will be there, though I cannot imagine why. We certainly do not want to make a scene in front of Cyran royalty.”
“I’ll be good, mother. I know how.”
“See that you do.” A knock at the door pulls Amara’s eyes away from the mirror. “That will be Merrix. Go answer it, dear.”
Sera darts off answer the door, and shortly thereafter leads the young Merrix d’Cannith into the room. At this point Amara has moved to the center of the well appointed, but still modest, room to wait with her back facing the young man being led by the hand by an exuberant Sera rambling about some of the modifications she has done to improve the iron defender homonculus.
With a slight smile on his face Merrix looks at the young girl as he speaks, “A very enthusiastic child you are raising Lady Edison. At such a young age she has good ideas that no one has considered as of yet.” Directing his attention more fully to Sera he says, “One day you must show me these designs you have. I would very much like to see them.”
“I will grab them!” Sera exclaims, releasing his hand, and turning towards a bedroom adjacent to the main living quarters her and her mother occupy. “They’re just in here.”
“Not now, dear. We do not have time this evening. We are already running a bit late, I think.” Her mother responds, turing around. “Lord Merrix, I thank you kindly for inviting us to the gala this evening. Shall we be off?”
“Certainly, Lady Edison. And may I say you look wonderful. Lady ir’Tain will be thrilled to have you present tonight. A skycab is waiting outside.” Merrix replies, proffering his arm for Amara to take, and reaching out for Sera’s hand. “We will be right on time. There is nothing to worry about.”
Exiting the appartments, the three descend a short staircase to a landing pad where a long boatlike vehicle waits, floating a few feet above the groud. As they board, unexpectdly, the skycab does not rock from their weight. Finding seats in the small, covered, vessel Merrix says to the driver as he presses a gold piece into his hand, “To the ir’Tain mannor in Brilliant.”
As the skycab launches off towards the Skydeck that floats above the city of towers, Sera turns around in her seat to watch as towers, bridges, and people pass her by. With a huge smile on her face Sera looks around fervently, trying to take in everyting as they make their way up, and up towards a large floating structure with more towers built atop it. The Skydeck is the fanciest of the fancy places in Sharn. Only the elite can afford to eat there, let alone live.
Eventually the skycab slows to a halt in front of an enormous mansion laced with stained glass, and backlit by brilliant light. Above the main entryway, a set of large double doors open wide for the evening, is a stained glass rose in the flamic style. Its rare to see flamic art outside Thrane, but it always catches the eye with its hard, stricking, lines.
As they disembark, Sera and Amara both stare in wonder at the lavish buildings that are set around them. Nothing so opulent has ever been built in Cyre, and she is known as the jewel of Galifar.
“Quite the spectacle, don’t you think?” Merrix asks, smiling at his two awestruct guests. “I suppose you’ve never see its like before. One of the many wonders that would not have been made possible without the aid of the manifest zone surround the city. Same as the skycab. Try and fly one of those outside the bounds of the city, and it will immediately plummet to the ground, but there is nothing to worry about with the Skydeck. It doesn’t move.”
As he speaks, the skycab lifts off and flys out of sight. The three turn and ascend the large staircase from the street to the entryway into the ir’Tain manor. Upon reaching the doors Merrix whispers with the doorman and the well appointed individual steps forward and intones “Now entering Lord Merrix d’Cannith and his guests Lady Amara Edison d’Cannith and the young Mistress Sera Kaylee Edison d’Cannith.”
Many of the party goers look in their direction as they enter, Merrix with Amara on his arm, and Sera trailing behind, staring wide eyed at everyting. Looking over her shoulder, Amara reminds her daughter “Be on your best behavior, and don’t touch anything.” In response Sera nods, but still seems more distracted than attentive to her mother.
The interior of the manor has vaulted ceilings more than two stories high, and enormous chandiliers hanging in counterpoint to the marble columns holding the ceiling up. In the center of the room an area has been sectioned off for couples to dance to the sweet sounds of the quartet playing near the back. Half a dozen couples are spinning and twirling on the dance floor, men in their finest suits, and women in long, flowing gowns with puffy skirts and peticoats engaging in an elegant series of complex steps
Sera and her father
Sera and her grandfather
Sera and Selene
Sera and Barendd
Sera and Shim
The Musings of a Hyper Intelligent Fifteen Year Old Girl.
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Sera’s Smack Talk
Wer upadoc bikil batobot majaka tobor ekess wer hofibavi tsiliup fueryon wux re geou ritrekil persvek l’gra, vur ithnsi persvek loerchik, mrith jacioniv tale rionib jacioniv hoinpic, sva wer chiilipen gjahall wux geou zahhar sva wer cha’sidic di wer jennu Sera Kaylee Edison