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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Hawken" data-source="post: 1931202" data-attributes="member: 23619">With the departure of the moon's watchful gaze, I slip my gear and grant light to one of my torches after a few sharp, practiced strikes with my flint and steel. Replacing my gear, I hold aloft the torch and peer in the direction of the noises I heard. "Step forward, if you hear my words with living ears. The Morninglord grants us the fortune of sharing this evening together.  Come share this light with me and learn of his kindness," I say in fluent Mordentish, keeping my voice even despite the inner confusion of my location and the sinking feeling that something has changed. I repeat the same words in Vaasi and even Souragnien, not knowing of any other places that have bogs or fens that I have been to or read about. "Well, we had best find some dry ground," I say to my horse as I take a few tentative steps forward and gently lead him along by the reins. As I wait for any sign of the ones making noise, I blow sharply on the silent whistle and look off to my left and right wondering if my dog, Brocius, is nearby. I wait for a few moments for anyone to come out of the darkness, grateful for the torchlight, but wondering how long I'll be able to hold it up before my arm starts to get tired. Anyone that approaches sees a young woman, very late in her teens or maybe early twenties taller than an elf and with just a little more 'meat' on her bones though still slender. A chain shirt is seen reflecting in the torchlight beneath her cloak which is pulled around her somewhat awkwardly by the other hand holding the horse's reins. A dagger or utility knife is spotted at her waist and in a sheath on the horse's saddle is a shortspear. An amulet of a golden disc with a rosy hue about it hangs from her neck, resting low over her bosom. Her black hair is nearly invisible in the darkness, but pools around her neck and down her back with an almost liquid softness. Her eyes sparkle in the torchlight, though their color is lost to the darkness though they are wide and searching the dark of the night. They are well guarded in that they do not give away any of her inner thoughts or fears, or her growing dislike of being out at night and alone except for her four-legged companions. Her movements are neither slow nor exceptionally fast, but are deliberate and steady as if each motion had been thought out and decided before its execution.</blockquote>

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