There was, as a matter of fact, a priestess in town. It wasn't hard to find her; The otherworldly draenei woman stood out like a sore thumb in the grim pit that was Silvergate. For nearly a month now she'd occupied a little corner of the Cock and Marmot, a miserable little cantina next door to the brothel. What had been a frugal - and slightly mad - attempt at a pilgrimage to the Holy City had been stopped in penniless tracks at Silvergate, and for a miserable weekend she'd had to ignore the offers of a bed - and gold - at the brothel. Ysana Doros was a virtuous creature, entirely too much so for this wretched stain on the world's map, and had slept in a stable until finding her own little niche in the community.
With Carielle's glory faded from this world, a myriad of cults had sprung up in her absence, worshiping all manner of beings of questionable divinity. Desperate worshipers cast their lots with angels and devils, with madmen and saints... and, in the case of The Temple of the Starry Eye, with beings from beyond the sky. Beings that were best left undisturbed, perhaps, but there was no denying their gifts. She knew not the thing that had left its mark on her and her coven, this thing that had granted her its brilliant, cold light. Some new god, perhaps, but there was little they could do to understand it. Not so long ago, Ysana had been blessed with a series of dreams. Dreams of holy things gone to darkness, of a spreading corruption... what could it be, if not the Holy City? She'd wasted no time in getting on the road, ready to venture into the ruin in hopes of learning more about this new god of hers. There was little to go on, yes, but enthusiasm had carried her down the road in haste.
Haste, of course, had also led to poor planning, and she'd had little more than the clothes on her back when arriving in Silvergate. Thankfully, she'd managed to pay her way so far with her craft. Ysana had harnessed the raw power of her new light to heal and soothe, to seal wounds and burn out corruptions. She'd never admit it, but the fact of it was, the sheer volume of sick and injured who passed through this town made for a fairly profitable venture. One she knew would need to end soon, if she were to continue on her way... but, it was a comfortable little existence. Perhaps soon, she'd find just the thing to shake her out of the little lull she'd found herself in. Or, she could continue to wile away her evenings over spiced mead and ancient scrolls while patching up more poor souls. It wouldn't be the worst thing.
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