The dim tavern was loud and busy when the Dark Elf strode into the
tavern of Magai. The cool night air blew in behind her as she looked around
the room before letting the door swing shut. Her long, slender legs made
her as tall as most men and her slender body and face made her attractive
to the same. Risika's breeches hid the daggers in her leg sheath, and she
brushed a slender hand against the nearest one, to reassure herself it was
there, before entering the crowded tavern. Although her boot and leg
sheathes lay hidden, the ones on her back and arms were blatantly visible.
Her sleek straight hair flowed, black as raven's wings, across her back as
she tossed her head. The long locks settling across the small of her brown
leather shirt; which was low cut and exposed too much of the soft dark skin
above her belt, than proper ladies were allowed. While her face was
passive, a glint in her eye suggested she knew she turned heads and liked
it. She kept an eye to her purse, as the tavern's name meant "den of
thieves" in the old tongue.
Sliding into a seat at the bar she slapped down a few coins. The gruff bartender looked suspiciously at her, his apron, which must have been white at sunrise, was now smeared with various bits of the day's wares. Taking in her sheathed weapons along with her worn travelers clothes, he slid her a tankard of ale all the same. It was all business to him. She mumbled her thanks as the foam sloshed onto the bar's dirty surface.
Risika stared across the tavern, taking in the nightly bustle. Her jet-black hair slid over her golden eyes as she sipped from the tankard. She didn't really like the taste of the ale that she drank but bought it for appearances sake; she was only here to find work. Tipped ears twitched as sounds from around the room reached them; flies buzzed over a plate left unfinished, and a table at the back of the room erupted with drunken laughter at a joke being told. None of this interested her, but Risika continued to listen with acute awareness, as experience had taught her that waiting was the only way to find suitable information she needed.
Her mind had wandered to new dagger techniques she had picked up on the way there when the tavern door burst open and the room fell suddenly silent. Two men, carrying a third between them shuffled in. Mud coated them from head to toe and streaks of blood covered their clothes. A woman, obviously a healer judging from the crest on her robe, jogged over demanding answers and shouting orders to those around her. As she tended to the fallen man's wounds, the man on the right spoke quickly in a high pitched voice. Risika, not being able to focus in the commotion, moved slowly to a closer table in order to hear what he had to say.
"...And then we were the only ones left. The bandits surrounded the entire caravan and everyone panicked. We've never encountered so many in the Kinan forest."
He slumped dejectedly to the ground, exhausted, while the healer nodded solemnly, knowing she would be busy tonight as more wounded would surely come. That was what Risika had been waiting for all night. There was a high bounty on bandits, they terrorized caravan trails and dwindled incoming fares to cities. Before anyone could inform the guard of the night's trouble, Risika quietly slipped out the door unnoticed. She ran down the dusty streets toward the western Kinan forest, checking to see if her daggers were all in place. The assassin's work had finally come.
Rachel Mazza
Sliding into a seat at the bar she slapped down a few coins. The gruff bartender looked suspiciously at her, his apron, which must have been white at sunrise, was now smeared with various bits of the day's wares. Taking in her sheathed weapons along with her worn travelers clothes, he slid her a tankard of ale all the same. It was all business to him. She mumbled her thanks as the foam sloshed onto the bar's dirty surface.
Risika stared across the tavern, taking in the nightly bustle. Her jet-black hair slid over her golden eyes as she sipped from the tankard. She didn't really like the taste of the ale that she drank but bought it for appearances sake; she was only here to find work. Tipped ears twitched as sounds from around the room reached them; flies buzzed over a plate left unfinished, and a table at the back of the room erupted with drunken laughter at a joke being told. None of this interested her, but Risika continued to listen with acute awareness, as experience had taught her that waiting was the only way to find suitable information she needed.
Her mind had wandered to new dagger techniques she had picked up on the way there when the tavern door burst open and the room fell suddenly silent. Two men, carrying a third between them shuffled in. Mud coated them from head to toe and streaks of blood covered their clothes. A woman, obviously a healer judging from the crest on her robe, jogged over demanding answers and shouting orders to those around her. As she tended to the fallen man's wounds, the man on the right spoke quickly in a high pitched voice. Risika, not being able to focus in the commotion, moved slowly to a closer table in order to hear what he had to say.
"...And then we were the only ones left. The bandits surrounded the entire caravan and everyone panicked. We've never encountered so many in the Kinan forest."
He slumped dejectedly to the ground, exhausted, while the healer nodded solemnly, knowing she would be busy tonight as more wounded would surely come. That was what Risika had been waiting for all night. There was a high bounty on bandits, they terrorized caravan trails and dwindled incoming fares to cities. Before anyone could inform the guard of the night's trouble, Risika quietly slipped out the door unnoticed. She ran down the dusty streets toward the western Kinan forest, checking to see if her daggers were all in place. The assassin's work had finally come.
Rachel Mazza