Snippet #1174234

It was dawn by the time they reached Northwall. Viconia was tired, hungry, and in pain. The initially bloody bandage around her thigh had long dried, turning a hideous black color as it sealed the injury. She winced, knowing that she would have to remove it later on down the road when she had to clean it. That would be a painful process.

During the entry to the city, the guards eyed her carefully, but she was too tired to pay much attention to the negotiations with the guards or any newcomers. Instead, she focused on what her next move should be. After all, she was lost, crushed, cold and confused. Her guiding light - her mother and her troupe - was gone.

In addition, she was slowly coming to the realization that her leg was ruined. If the muscle hadn't been destroyed by the stab wound itself, then walking for an entire night on the wound, unbound for part of that time, had most certainly done it.

She could never be a dancer again.

Even her backup plans - whore herself out to the low men, or become a bar maid - were ruined. If she could barely walk, what man would want her? If she couldn't hold her own, what bar would hire her? These were her thoughts as she limped through Northwall, a little bit behind the group. There was something ominous about this city, something she couldn't place. The buildings, skeletal in appearance, closed in around the dark elf, and this frightened her.

Finally, they came to a stop. Viconia's heart sank when she realized that it was another bar. Another chance to be humiliated, and this time, she didn't even have the ability to defend herself adequately.

So she stopped at the door. She had no obligation to these men, and she needed to find another place. This was not the life for her. "I should be going," she said uncertainly. "Thank you all for your help; I would not forget it so soon."

And with that, the dark elf woman, beautiful and clad in a dark blue cloak, vanished into the early morning, limping away down the street.