Daughters of the Damned

Avorra snickered at the pampered princess. So insistent on proper terminology, and yet that differed with every country in Thedas. She was tempted to stop bothering with the pleasantries, but alas, Avorra was indeed here for a reason. Why, Your Royal Highness, I am but a humble servant. Avorra said, wiggling her exposed pointed ears through her white mane. She even cast an illusory spell to appear as wearing a servant's garb. The joke was going to fall flat, of course, and that bored Avorra. No one here was willing to have a little fun. Straight to the point, eh? Fine. Avorra dispelled the fake garb, now wearing her hedge witch attire; an exposed bra to cover her delicates, an open half-robe that exposed her stomach, the open belt-cape that fell to her knees but exposed her covered thighs, and the raggedy pants that were clearly worn-out judging by the various holes in their surface. She wore no shoes or gloves, as she preferred to feel the air against her skin and the earth against her feet.

I offer you my services in exchange for help. We can get to the help later. You want the clock gone, no? Or is there something more to be desired? I have a vast array of skills, for all types of tasks, whether legitimate or not. I understand that you are of royal blood, and I am always in need of new friends - if you are tempted by the offer. Avorra smiled widely at Her Royal Highness. It was true, she needed help. Of course, help comes with a price, and Avorra was willing to pay any price for what she currently needed - adventurers willing to help her hunt for a shard.