Snippet #1813307

Naqiya had always been a fan of indoors. She surmised that was contradictory to her Elven lineage, but blamed her idiom on the close proximity of human cohabitation. It was hot; the sun beat her fair skin pink, dust clung to face and eyes while sweat made her clothes feel wrong. Beads of moisture trickled down her back, legs, arms and instantly she regretted leaving the manor with it's cold beer and shaded stonewalled interior. She would power through, towards the forest and to it's inevitable cooler climes away from the glowing ball of fire that assaulted her and made the woman miserable.

She had heard stories of the woods and how everything from gnolls to dragons lived there, the woods were hungry for children, widows and travellers far more brash than they should be. People had a fear of the unknown, they feared everything in truth and that insecurity is what Naqiya loved most about humans. Making her way towards the Wilds, she spotted a human, looking every bit like one would see beset by goblins or highwaymen and she smiled and extended her arm to the man when the sky opened; yet instead of rain, massive bats and angry yells.

Naqiya stared with disbelief, almost dismissive of what she saw. The woman had a crossbow, but little mettle to steel herself into arming, aiming then fireing the weapon at moving targets. She could hit a pile of hay, a stationary target well but these monstrosities were something best left for those of more vigorous persuasions. One must play to their strengths, Naqiya, she remembered her father saying. Mindflayers make awful babysitters. Nodding in agreement with her father, Naqiya's strengths were supportive - she would would never lead an army into battle. The woman padded her front pocket and took a plug of sealing wax preparing her Ghost Sound spell in hopes, at the very least to confuse one rider with a distracting, disembodied shout.