The rogue remembers how much her reward would be if she was successful and weighed it against the risks she was taking. Basha was an old cult that appeared to reward anyone successful on their little hunting trips so maybe she could reward herself with there treasure. She wondered briefly about where they got the loot from but it didn’t matter as long as they had it.
Travel was the worst part of a trip for her because there was little to do but wait. She couldn’t plan on her strike because she didn’t know the layout or even where their base of operations was. All she could really do was wait and worry about things she had no control over.
She arrived at the sand-filled town of Siren’s Grave and headed for the closest bar where the prices of water rivaled that of fine wines. Seras wondered who had the “wisdom” to build out in this hell hole. A poster on the wall called for hunters of monsters which reeked of a trap but could be worth checking out.
The locals didn’t even bother to hide their stares at the stranger invading their space and she pretended to be uninterested in them but scanned the room for likely sources of information. A small group of men whispered to each other and took a quick glance at the various people around the room, close examination showed they all had the markings of snakes on them. It could be that they were snake cultists or a gang, either way, it might be nice to pit them against the servants of Basha.
A grizzled old dwarf missing his left arm pounded down swigs of what was sure to be rotgut alcohol. The tools he wore signaled him to be a miner which could be a good source of information but the heavy drinking, even by dwarf standards was a worry for how reliable he would be.
Bartenders were usually good sources of information which was both a good thing and a bad thing. Sure you could find out a lot from them but your information was usually passed on just as readily as the information you got from them. Seras wanted any enemies to have as little information on her as possible. This bartender had a couple of crossbows cocked and loaded behind the bar at the ready. She had the look of a dangerous woman who had a hard life and was ready to strike first and worry about the consequences later.
The person who intrigued her the most was the elf in the corner. It was the first time she had seen one of her people in the desert, they did so love their homes lush and green so was she an outsider like herself or was she a resident of this place. Her clothing suggested local as it was desert gear. The book she was reading was covered in arcane symbols and strongly suggested she was dealing with a magic user.
A final person drew her interest, a heavily metal-clad warrior sat in a corner dragging a dagger across the table but if the bartender minded she didn’t say anything. The faceless warrior was not someone who belonged in this scorching land which made them very interesting. All eyes whipped away from the being with a hint of fear when they looked in the direction of this metal monster.
There was a lot here to investigate but which path would bring her to the results she wanted or better ones.
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