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CB's Pathfinder Beta -- Burnt Offerings
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<blockquote data-quote="CanadienneBacon" data-source="post: 4852800" data-attributes="member: 11146"><p>Still leading Talashia by the hand, the girl child pulls and tugs her way west through Sandpoint. The ground underfoot slopes down as the byway wends its way toward the lower elevation of town flanking the eastern and southern bank of the river. As the pair alternately walk and jog through the streets, Talashia hears the town's alarm bell toll, and menfolk bustle women, children, and the very old into homes or shops. Talashia passes a knot of three men armed with billy clubs, one of whom looks as if he'd like to herd her away from the fight but obviously lets the issue go as Talashia hustles the girl west away from the fracas in front of the Cathedral. Everywhere the pair passes, it's evident that Sheriff Baylock has called for the volunteer brigade for form, for men hunt for makeshift weapons and head east and north for the city offices.</p><p></p><p>Stopping in front of a thatched-roof cottage with a bit of smoke floating out its fire hole in the roof, the girl opens the front door and flies into the arms of a surprised-looking woman whose thick brown braids hang in a dishevelled mess. <span style="color: SandyBrown">"Clara!"</span> The woman cries, hugging the girl fiercely before also pulling away to chastise her daughter. <span style="color: sandybrown">"So worried we were! Musn't run off like that!"</span> An grey-haired woman wrapped in an old but clean woolen blanket sits on the dirt hearth beside the fire, nodding her head in oblivion while the mother clucks at her child. <span style="color: sandybrown">"So worried!" </span> Noticing Talashia lingering in the doorway for the first time, the mother straightens in fear and shoves the girl behind her back. <span style="color: sandybrown">"Who's this then?"</span> the mother asks, eyeing Talashia with suspicion. Clara's voice, muffled in her mother's skirts, squawks, <span style="color: sandybrown">"No, Ma, she's <em>good</em>. She helped me back here."</span> At Clara's words, the mother's stance softens a hair but she keeps the girl pressed behind her and takes a step to place herself between the door and the grandmother by the hearth.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="CanadienneBacon, post: 4852800, member: 11146"] Still leading Talashia by the hand, the girl child pulls and tugs her way west through Sandpoint. The ground underfoot slopes down as the byway wends its way toward the lower elevation of town flanking the eastern and southern bank of the river. As the pair alternately walk and jog through the streets, Talashia hears the town's alarm bell toll, and menfolk bustle women, children, and the very old into homes or shops. Talashia passes a knot of three men armed with billy clubs, one of whom looks as if he'd like to herd her away from the fight but obviously lets the issue go as Talashia hustles the girl west away from the fracas in front of the Cathedral. Everywhere the pair passes, it's evident that Sheriff Baylock has called for the volunteer brigade for form, for men hunt for makeshift weapons and head east and north for the city offices. Stopping in front of a thatched-roof cottage with a bit of smoke floating out its fire hole in the roof, the girl opens the front door and flies into the arms of a surprised-looking woman whose thick brown braids hang in a dishevelled mess. [COLOR="SandyBrown"]"Clara!"[/COLOR] The woman cries, hugging the girl fiercely before also pulling away to chastise her daughter. [COLOR="sandybrown"]"So worried we were! Musn't run off like that!"[/COLOR] An grey-haired woman wrapped in an old but clean woolen blanket sits on the dirt hearth beside the fire, nodding her head in oblivion while the mother clucks at her child. [COLOR="sandybrown"]"So worried!" [/COLOR] Noticing Talashia lingering in the doorway for the first time, the mother straightens in fear and shoves the girl behind her back. [COLOR="sandybrown"]"Who's this then?"[/COLOR] the mother asks, eyeing Talashia with suspicion. Clara's voice, muffled in her mother's skirts, squawks, [COLOR="sandybrown"]"No, Ma, she's [I]good[/I]. She helped me back here."[/COLOR] At Clara's words, the mother's stance softens a hair but she keeps the girl pressed behind her and takes a step to place herself between the door and the grandmother by the hearth. [/QUOTE]
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