Snippet #2684246

Danairia trots down the road, beyond out of breath, physically exhausted, and beginning to exhibit a limp. Each time she presses her foot down, pain strikes up through her right leg.

"Ow..Ow..Ow..Ow..Fucking-ow-ow..Ow.."

She has a goal in mind but she will have to get there fast and as quiet as she can, which seems to be quite the dilemma in her current state. She sticks out, wearing garb of the enslaved while carrying a sack reminiscent to the typical image of a thief and-

"-Ah, fuckin' hell..."

-Apparently bleeding much more than she would have thought. Enough to leave a trail of where she has been. The elf looks around, trying to find a spot for her to rest without being observed but makes no discovery. She continues her trot, attempting to find such a place, hoping she may soon. But something catches her ear. Her...name?

Her eyes widen as she whirls around with her right sword gripped, almost falling over from the extra pressure on her calf but recovers from the stumble in time. She spots four people-all of which she does not recognize. Some girl, an old man of an obvious wizard type, another girl on the younger side-giving off the definite vibe of an archer, and a VERY large man with the heaviest resting bitch-face she has ever seen on a-...
...and a VERY large girl-who is a female-with a completely normal face.

THAT'S A WHOLE BUNCH O' 'NOPE'!

She wants to question who they are but finds her words caught in her throat. If she were to yell out at them or draw her weapons, she may draw more attention to herself. More that would be remembered for telling a certain group of soldiers that are looking for her.

Danairia simply double takes at the group and continues to hurry along but now at a hurried pace, trying to get away from them despite having lost the ability to completely sprint.

AGENTS OF THE COLOSSEUM COMING TO GET ME AND TAKE ME BACK TO THE IMPERIALS-NOPE!-NOPE!-NOT HAVIN' IT! BITCHES ABOUT TO HAVE A TOUGH TIME 'CAUSE I'M NOT GOING BACK TO THAT!-THOSE GUYS ARE BAD NEWS!

Danairia tries to speed up but finds herself simply further pronouncing her limp instead.

NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE-!

The sight is rather pathetic. It is clear to see that, even if she were moving at any kind of an intimidating speed, the periodic drops of blood would be more than enough to find her. But then again, how many people would still be trying to run in her situation?