Rebuilding. A word that used to hold little to no bearing with Cassandra. She wasn't Percy. Picking up the broken pieces of one thing and making something else was not at all her specialty. However, it now seems she doesn't have much of a choice.

Picking up the pieces from the Briarwoods invasion was proving to be a lot more difficult than she'd formerly anticipated. Most other cities still refused to have any contact with Whitestone, no matter how many times Cassandra reassures them that the Briarwoods are long gone. Honestly, she can't blame them. However, there were others who were willing to try and reestablish diplomatic connections with Whitestone.

Cassandra stood at the front of the table, holding her gloved hands behind her back. Only four people had responded to her formal summons. A lavishly dressed, brown-skinned man from Ank'Harel, a blue-scaled female dragonborn from Draconia, a gnome dressed in sailors garb from the costal city of Nicodranas, and you. As Cassandra paced back and forth, her eyes paused on everyone there. Those piercing, light blue orbs seem to linger on you before she addresses the room.

"Thank you all for coming. I know that based on past events, receiving a formal summons from Whitestone would have left you skeptical. However, I assure you, my focus is to help guide my home forward, far from the caustic clutches of its former inhabitants. Yet, in order for me to accomplish this, I require your aid."

Her small speech earns a scoff from the representative of Ank'Harel, while both the gnome and dragonborn looked highly skeptical. It was going to be a long fucking meeting.