Ellarinne frowns slightly -- the demons of her world are a distinctive breed, and she smells nothing like fel energy around Deirdre's person -- but she shakes her hand willingly. Ellarinne's grip is gentle, but her skin is very rough, with pointed fingernails and purple scales around her knuckles. "Ellarinne, professional champion," she introduces herself with a wry little smile. "Are you also the harbormaster, Mistress Deirdre? Perhaps you could tell me what it is I'm meant to do here. I'm afraid I recently took a blow to the head, and --" She shrugs slightly. "My memory of the last few hours is a little fuzzy."