It barely took even a minute to tie the thatch back together and secure it with the twine. Now with the leak taken care of, Sorenna could get back to more pressing matters, like writing her rent. She sat for what seemed like hours, just staring out the window and tapping her inkless quill upon the blank parchment idly. Even as the sky cleared by nine-thirty, she could find inspiration in nothing.
Perhaps if she went out for a walk she may stumble upon a suitable topic for song, so she slipped off her robe and walked to her armor cabinet. She paused however, thinking it unwise to wear her Tranquilsong armor lest someone think she was looking for a fight, and slipped on her simple leather tunic instead.
Her fingers trailed over the soft, grey fur of the mist wolf pelt Fenrik had collected for her to use as a shawl, and she swung it around her shoulders, tugging the skull and top jaw over her head as a hood. Sorenna waved goodbye to Thomar, Taura and the men and exited the inn, stepping out onto the rain glazed cobblestone streets. She tucked away her ink, parchment, and quill into a pocket within the shawl and adjusted her lute so that it rested across her back as she wandered aimlessly.
Eventually her feet led her to "Arm for a Leg," the town Arena. It wasn't exactly the most wholesome place in the entire village, but perhaps she could compose a Battle Hymn about one of the fighters that would be acceptable at the very least, as rent. The doors to the one story building were heavy and didn't open easily for her.
Sorenna could now see why the building was only one floor. Deep, very deep, at least three more stories down, was a gigantic sand arena. The light beige sand was absolutely littered with bodies which lay in puddles of red-stained grains, and there were too many to count.
Out of everyone in the sandy death-trap, there were only seven or so fighters left standing in battle. One of them was a rogue it seemed, with amazing sneaking and backstabbing skills, and he was obviously using a poison-lined dagger. The unfortunate human that became the next target of his blade, only needed to be stabbed once in the leg before he dropped his sword and clawed at his own throat, choking on the very air he was trying so hard to breathe. When he collapsed to the floor twitching, Sorenna had the hunch that he would not be getting back up, and sure enough he eventually stopped moving all together.
She couldn't watch this horrific display any longer, but she couldn't just run to the door. The place was packed to capacity, and she didn't dare try to shove people out of the way to exit the building. Instead she wandered through the crowd, keeping one hand in her pocket, clutching her wallet tightly.