When Morgana manifests her shade using a blood-infused doll, that shade takes the form of the person whose blood she used. The more blood she has access to, the closer she can mimic the characteristics and abilities of her source. This is why she currently can deal sneak attack damage, since she's manifesting a glamour using Kithran's doll.

This is also why she appeared as a Syl woman when she used Saeriel's doll in communication with Adedre - she was using the exact same shape as Saeriel.

Morgana's white-dress dolls are blood collectors, and as they gather blood their dresses turn from white to red. As you might guess, she can use that blood to further enhance her manifestation, make it more 'solid', and closer in ability to that of the original.

Bears certain similarities to the mirror sprite in the Lost's Journal, doesn't it?

Since Kithran was looking right at the Kith-doll when it attacked at least once, Kithran definitely sees Morgana's masked sillhouette manifesting as it leapt at her. Since she's using the Kith-doll, the shade that appears is somewhat indistinct in form, but is exactly the same size, proportions, and holds blades that look the same as the real Kithran.

Her lips shift into a frown when she misses Kithran in that second attempted strike before the apparition disappears.

Kitheran, Kittenran, Kithran, Kitten...

The dolls appear unarmed. However...

A careful/lucky look at the Kith-doll when it attacks would show a faint, shadowy silhouette wearing Morgana's mask, but otherwise appearing identical in body shape to Kithran, and holding similarly faint copies of Kithran's daggers. The lips on that mask do move, curling into a cruel smile during the attack. The apparition fades away after striking.

Also, Raggedy Ann and Andy are definitely not too far off from the general aesthetic of the felt dolls...

They're not too easy to hit being small. And then Mosic would likely get struck by a sneak attack dice from the Kith-doll flanking with the Ch-doll and leaping up in an attempt to slash at the back of Mosic's neck. It's almost identical to what Kithran did with the mannequin in the apothecary... not a lot of damage mind, but certainly a 'back off' with it actually hurting as opposed to the negligable damage you'd expect from a felt toy doll.

Those two guard the door, but otherwise don't really engage yet. Morgana is waiting for the skespider to do some damage first. She hasn't seen what it can do, nor how Ch'dau and Kithran react to it. Speaking of which, if the skespider makes Ch'dau or Kithran bleed, the white-dress doll hops off the skespider to gather whatever blood falls to the floor...

"I am ready, Kithran," Aranwen nodded. By her description, it was certainly a creature to be wary of, its size and strength a major problem to overcome.

Yet, as she prepared to for battle, she blinked when Kithran opened the doors; empty. Unlocked. Aranwen frowned. It was true that they had dealt with every pair of skeleton sentries up to that point before an alarm could be raised, but certainly something would have happened when the live patrols on the walls had failed to report in? Were they really that fortunate? Aranwen felt a chill along the back of her neck, and knew deep down that something was wrong.

She had no opportunity to voice that, however.

Admiring my handicraft?

Aranwen swore under her breath. She knew that voice that haunted her nightmares.

“Aranwen,” Ch’dau growled, “Quickly!”

Aranwen tried to rush forward from her position at the back, but she couldn't make it before the doors closed in front of her. She pushed and pounded at the seam where the doors met each other, but what little give the doors seemed to have at first was quickly reduced to none as the doors were secured from the other side.

"What's going on in there?!" Aranwen tried to call through the doors, stepping back to try and see if she might find an alternative solution to breaching the barrier before her. She winced as she heard the loud thud of something very large hitting the ground. She needed to get to them.

Why so concerned? They didn't need your help before, and they don't need it now. They don't need you. Morgana's voice mocked the bladesinger from down the stairs.

Aranwen tensed, turning towards the stairs down and holding her blade ready for whatever mannequin had approached them from behind, but she saw none.

Morgana's tone shifted, and there almost seemed to be pity in her voice as she spoke again, Someone else, however... she does need you...

Aranwen's breath caught in her throat as she saw the felt doll with Saeriel's likeness a few steps below her, positioned with its hands together at its chest as it looked up at Aranwen. Forcing her jaw open to speak, Aranwen's eyes narrowed and burned as she looked at Morgana's doll, her blade shaking a bit with her hand, "What did you do to her?"

Rest assured, this is not her. Follow me, and I can bring you to her. Morgana replied, her voice silken and calm, That is what you want... isn't it?

At the immediate moment, the Kithran-doll is locking the door, hovering at the handles as she winds thread around them to bind them closed, the Ch'dau-doll is holding it shut by leverage of both feet on the ground and hands against the door, even against the banging that can be heard by Aranwen trying to force it open. A felt doll with a white dress is sitting on top of the bone spider, seeming to either be waiting, or otherwise inanimate right now. Might be difficult to spot that one because white against bone.

You say that, but conditioning is a thing that exists. I'll just leave that as that...

With respect to Kithran not feeling like an adult, that is a dynamic that I kind of want to see what that results of with Aranwen not really expecting her to be one. On the one hand, I'm sure it annoys Kithran in some ways, but on the other hand, she doesn't have adult-ness expected of her and that really lets her grow at her own pace... 

It's not love when it's mind control via forced dissociation. Also, Kithran's not even 100 yet, she's not even an adult.

At least by Sylvari measurements

Says the player with the torture-infatuation smut going on

There is no rush  our fearless group will tackle the obstacles they face as they are written

Funny, that's the perfect description of Alice. An innocent, pure little angel. I don't know what Eol is talking about... really
^{don't pay attention to the fact that her wings are mishapen horrors that only look like ugly wings because the mind cannot... comprehend}

Shiv does seem adorable though from how you've shown her so far

Historically I'm usually the one with weird or creepy characters  

Aranwen is something of a divergence from the norm for me

She needs to first survive the.... Questioning she'll be getting from Aranwen I'm sure  

Morgana does have five small felt dolls in Adedre's estate... Where are the other three? 

The stairwell leads into a larger assembly hall or something similar. The doors are open. Kithran and Ch'dau look to either side, but don't see any enemies. The group goes to enter...

And Morgana's felt dolls of Kithran and Ch'dau slam the door shut from behind the door, after Kithran and Ch'dau pass - Mosic's size and natural dexterity let's him make it through the doors, thankfully.

Admiring my handicraft? So easily distracted; I'd look up if I were you. 

Sound of fingers snapping... 

And the skespider that was held on to the ceiling by Morgana's threads release, dropping it on top of them

Was what I saw in my mind anyhow 

And then all heck breaks loose?

11th Bre Tola, 453 E.R. 

Samuel and Sara's house - Noon

Sara knelt before the planter, this small little garden that was her own. She smiled as she examined the small sprouts inside. Donning a set of gardening gloves, she hummed to herself as she began sifting through the topsoil, searching for errant sprouts that weren't of the ones she planted.

"That is a lovely melody. Did you make it?" Ella asked, leaning over the fence as she listened.

Sara's breath caught in her throat as she looked up towards their neighbour, and her hands shook. Mercifully, her hands were obscured from Ella's view by the planter's sides. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Ella offered with a gentle smile. 

Sara shook her head, and averted her gaze to her hands as she replied, "It's alright." 

She's not… She's not… Kithran, Sara repeated to herself. She took off her gloves to stall for a moment and steady herself, before she stood up to return a warm smile to their half-Syl neighbour, and answering, "I'm not the composer. The composer is a kind man who I briefly met on the road."

Ella tilted her head a bit, "Do you sing?" she asked, "If your humming is able to capture the melody that well, I can't help but wonder what it's like if you used your whole voice."

"I'm afraid not," Sara replied, sadness underscoring the smile she held for Ella, "I lost that ability a while ago."

"Lost?" Ella asked, her head tilting towards one side as she wondered how that might be possible, "But your voice… there doesn't seem like there's anything wrong." 

Sara sighed, "Song takes more than a good voice," she held a hand to her chest, "I haven't been able to sing, not since, not since I lost my daughter," she whispered with a shuddering breath.

Ella's hand went to her lips as her eyes widened, "Is she… Dead?" 

Sara shrugged her shoulders, "Lost," she repeated, "I don't know which is worse," she murmured with a sigh, "I'd rather… I'd rather not talk about it."

"Ah…"

Sara shook her head and sighed once more, before looking back at Ella with a gentle smile, "I apologize, that was a long time ago. Would you like some tea, or was there anything I might be able to help you with?" 

"Maybe later," Ella smiled, "I should see to my own lawn before that."

"No rush; whenever you'd like," Sara offered with a nod. She watched as Ella turned to return to tending her lawn, waiting a moment before sighing. She set down her gloves beside the planter, and slipped away, moving to beside the cottage, the side opposite any passerby and Ella's view. 

When they settled into this cottage, it took a few days to tidy the place up. During the tidying up, the old wooden handle on the broom Sara had used snapped near the head. At the time, she had said she'd toss it in for firewood. As she approached the window sill, Sara reached out her hand, taking the broken handle in hand. 

It wasn't a blade. It didn't sing. It didn't weigh the same. It didn't move the same. But for all those reasons, she could use it without her hands shaking. Taking a deep breath, she brought herself to a ready stance. 

When the past threatened to overwhelm her, she pushed it all away by doing this. The same training exercises she remembered doing for years at Megilindor Nost. There was no past, only the present and the next motion in the routine. 

Sara could still feel the symmetry in the exercises, something she didn't feel when she was just learning, and she took some comfort in that. Even if the chaos in true battle meant that the stances and steps couldn't be adhered to, going through the motions was still valuable to hone muscle memory, and for the benefit of the exercise itself. A pattern of four swings combined with one of eight steps - thirty-two different notes for the body to play in the song of battle. Even if she could no longer sing, she still knew the notes, the motions, and recall the feeling of the song. 

At the end of her routine, she sighed, taking a deep breath as tears fell from her eyes. Sara imagined she looked rather silly, or perhaps pitiful. An oathbreaker swinging around a broken hilt, as if that might regain all that she had lost.

It was why she had tried to hide her exercise from Samuel. 

Passive patrols loosely two skeletons per patrol group. No live guards. One will engage, the other runs, presumably to sound an alarm, though I don't expect our group to let any of them run away successfully

Will be *extremely* smooth going for the group...

Until they reach the main hall large open area where Kithran and Ch'dau encountered the skespider before

I imagine Ch'dau and Kithran being in front with Aranwen as rear guard

Perhaps Davena would actually have that spell if she were a priestess of Meillyah... 

Just saying

No one can replace Kithran 

But to give kindness that she feels is owed Kithran to someone else because she can't give it to Kithran right now? Maybe... To ease her mind even a bit, perhaps

I'm starting to wonder if Sara makes a point of avoiding Ella, or the inverse... I'll need to figure that out.... 

As for exercise, yeah enter training montage mode when Aranwen recovers

7th Bre Tola, 453 E.R.
Mhera’s Apothecary - Morning

“Sara, pay attention,” the elderly Cidal woman spoke sharply, “When you work with herbs as long as I have, you get a feel for certain things. You have none of that, so we must cultivate it.”

Sara nodded, her longer, flame-tinged hair curling about her face for a moment as she took a breath. As harsh as Mhera was, at times, Sara had come to learn that it was her way to emphasize just how important it was that she learn properly. A misprepared remedy, tonic, or salve had the potential to cause more harm than good. In her years of experience and practise, Mhera had seen both good and bad remedies, and did her utmost to give Sara the knowledge and intuition she’d need in this field.

For her part, Sara put Mhera’s words to memory and parchment both, doing her best to learn what she could from the elder Cidal, whose hair was so white she seemed as if she were a wisp that would go out at any moment.

“Don’t underestimate the value of a good cup of tea,” Mhera told Sara, “A warm brew can warm the heart, and ease aches that don’t appear to the eye. Here, let’s see you cut these flowers.”

Sara approached the cutting board, but stopped as she reached a shaking hand for the small metal knife. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and a chill along her spine as her fingers grazed the handle; she could not take hold of it. Mhera’s gaze turned from scrutinizing to sympathetic as she looked up at the Sylvari beside her, “Still can’t, hm?”

Sara nodded with a sigh, placing her hand upon the counter to make it cease trembling, “I don’t know why-”

“You do,” Mhera interrupted Sara, “But you need not tell these old ears. Kith-Jora knows, I’ve enough burdens on my small frame already. The flowers still need to be split, however; the water will not take the essence of the flowers otherwise. So, we will work with what we have. If not by knife, use your nails to tear the petals. Carefully, mind you.”

Sara nodded once more, taking one of the flowers in hand. With methodical precision, she split each petal as she would have with the knife. As she worked, the scent of the flowers had become stronger amongst the many earthy aromas of Mhera's store. It took longer, but she had the flowers prepared as Mhera had asked. Mhera scooped the petals into a small strainer, examining them closely.

“Ideally, you would use a knife for this,” Mhera commented, “You can see where the petals were squished between your nails. It works for tea, but for something where you don’t want to bruise the plant, that will be much harder for you.”

Mhera paused for a moment as she regarded the golden-red hues of Sara’s hair, “You do show promise, though,” She acknowledged, "Even with the difficulties you have."

Sara blinked, looking to the elderly Cidal with surprise, “How do you figure that?” She asked, “I didn’t think I was picking things up that quickly.”

“You aren’t,” Mhera chuckled, “But, the mixture you’ve used to paint your hair, I can tell it was well made. Your hair looks healthy, and the colour vibrant. It must have taken you several attempts to get that right. That, my dear, takes dedication and an eye for detail, both of which are invaluable in our craft.”

“Persistence?” Sara asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Aye, same meaning,” Mhera nodded, "Now then, let's finish this tea."

After preparing additional leaves and adding them to the herbal mixture, Sara set the kettle to boil. With a side glance to the white locks framing Mhera's face, she paused in thought.

"You've a question?" Mhera asked, looking up at Sara with a sly smile.

Blinking a moment at being called out, Sara nodded, "You say many burdens. How do you carry them without being crushed underneath?" 

Mhera shrugged her shoulders, "Couldn't say, myself. I suppose I think of it as upside down."

"Up-side down?" Sara repeated, lifting a hand beneath her chin in thought. 

"Aye. Changes the entire picture, doesn't it? Same with trees. Flip one upside down, and can you tell it apart from its brethren if it grows leaves either way?" Mhera mused aloud, "So if I think of the burdens as not in my branches, but in my roots, then I feel differently about them."

Sara frowned a bit, struggling to picture it in her mind. 

Mhera chuckled, "Give it a few more decades, or centuries in your case. I imagine you'll figure something out. But right now, we have tea."

The tea had a lovely, fruity flavour to it that didn't overstay its welcome on the tongue. Sara gave a contented sigh as she enjoyed the cup she held, and Mhera gave a warm smile. 

"See what I mean?" Mhera chuckled, "The satisfaction of a good cup of tea."

Funny you should say 'shows her face' - Davena's not the one with an animate mask

Just, look at Aranwen here. Gracefully swinging her blade around and defending our little band. All is well. Or at least as well as she can be at this point.

Now, look at Aranwen in HC-Aftermath. She can't even hold a knife! Let alone fight, or lead... she's gone to early retirement with her broken spirit.

And you say you can't wait?