Jul 11, 2021 5:17 pm
Narissa lent anxiously against the side of the inn munching on one of the two over cooked muffins the baker had sold her for next to nothing. She picked at the plaster on the side of the inn's stables with the metal sheathed tip of her antelope like horns and let out an frustrated breath. It'd been nearly two weeks since her home had been destroyed, consumed utterly by the magical fires of some unknown assailant and she'd been forced to flee Jinglepot for good. Fortunately she'd been preparing for a trip to Coldstream the next morning to do some repair work and so she'd had a bag ready to go but the fire had burned so hot and so fast there hadn't been time to save anything.
It had been a rough tenday, the first two heading north east, following the creek that ran through Jinglepot up towards its source, on the second day she's found a bridge that had been built by a long dead empire in ages past. She clambered up the stones on the bank being careful to avoid the dirt and mud, so as not to leave any tracks on the shore. There had been a small inn at the bridge but she'd avoided it, instead following the flagstone road east for another two days being careful to travel as much at night as possible when her eyesight gave her the advantage. From the flagstone road she'd followed a series of dirt and cobblestone roads south and east towards the Harpyies Rest. She'd arrived, dirty, hungry and exhausted two days earlier but that was nothing a pocket full of coin couldn't solve.
The exasperated spectral face of one of the Harpyies Rest's long dead owners glared at her from a window across the yard. "Fine, I'll stop it." Narissa said pulling her horn away from the side of the building, she was getting plaster dust in her hair and down her top anyways.
She looked towards the caravan and it's half Orc leader Mork, the South Eastern Coast sounded good, but there was that village part way there. Maybe that would be good enough to escape whoever was chasing her down. Narissa fowned, brushing the white power from her hair and carefully extracting the larger bits of plaster that had fallen down her top. When she was done with that she checked the thin gold and silver chains that hung from a series of loops pierced through her horns and the decorative charms that hung from the chains.
The half Orc wagon master was making his rounds now and she felt she better make a good impression so she straightened her cloak and took another bite from her muffin as she watched him approach. People tended not to trust her type but the half Orc seemed different, hopefully.
It had been a rough tenday, the first two heading north east, following the creek that ran through Jinglepot up towards its source, on the second day she's found a bridge that had been built by a long dead empire in ages past. She clambered up the stones on the bank being careful to avoid the dirt and mud, so as not to leave any tracks on the shore. There had been a small inn at the bridge but she'd avoided it, instead following the flagstone road east for another two days being careful to travel as much at night as possible when her eyesight gave her the advantage. From the flagstone road she'd followed a series of dirt and cobblestone roads south and east towards the Harpyies Rest. She'd arrived, dirty, hungry and exhausted two days earlier but that was nothing a pocket full of coin couldn't solve.
The exasperated spectral face of one of the Harpyies Rest's long dead owners glared at her from a window across the yard. "Fine, I'll stop it." Narissa said pulling her horn away from the side of the building, she was getting plaster dust in her hair and down her top anyways.
She looked towards the caravan and it's half Orc leader Mork, the South Eastern Coast sounded good, but there was that village part way there. Maybe that would be good enough to escape whoever was chasing her down. Narissa fowned, brushing the white power from her hair and carefully extracting the larger bits of plaster that had fallen down her top. When she was done with that she checked the thin gold and silver chains that hung from a series of loops pierced through her horns and the decorative charms that hung from the chains.
The half Orc wagon master was making his rounds now and she felt she better make a good impression so she straightened her cloak and took another bite from her muffin as she watched him approach. People tended not to trust her type but the half Orc seemed different, hopefully.
Last edited July 12, 2021 3:00 am