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Fyra
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Eleforian Elite Guard
The woman stood silently off the the side of the crowd that began to gather around the handsome man on the crate. He was good looking enough to catch many eyes, and his words calling out over the slowly gathering crowd were inspiring..for everyone else. Half hidden by shadow, Maia looked on with a sense of boredom. While she agreed with his turn on the plight of the poor, she wasn't encouraged to become a martyr. Only someone who truly was worth something would be worthy for martyrdom, after all.

As the guards arrived, Right on time.. she started away. She was not well known, but any true guard could recognize one of her ilk. Rogues were less common than thieves, and usually more dangerous. She kept her ears open, listening to the rumors flying, a word here and there telling her where to go to satisfy her inner need to know. Was this man even worth gathering information on? Who knew? But the guards would want him, and they would pay a good price. Even the most lawful guard knew that rogues often would have the information they needed. Most, of course, would never sell out another. And Maia didn't dare make the whole court of the Rogue rise against her. Led by the half-demonspawn lady, they would crush her into a small ball and feed her to a dog.

An unattractive fate.. Besides, honor was all that a puddle of dirt like her had, even if it was the honor of being mud. She wrinkled her nose and weaved her way between people, hard glares at potential pickpockets warning them away. Perhaps, she would go to this farm.. would he be there tonight? She didn't want to wait around to find him. She had been walking for several minutes when a shock of messy, curly blond hair captured her attention. Swiftly, she faded to the side, looking. It wasn't him. He was too short.

So used to being away from crowds of people, Maia stepped off the main thoroughfare, and into the alleyways. She navigated them without thinking, her blue-violet eyes sharp, and her expression blank. She shook out her mane of brown hair, it's highlights gleaming in the noontide sun like gold, remnants of her elven curse them heritage. It felt weird around her shoulders. She was far too used to having it up. but to blend in with the crowd, she had opted for a loose style. I'll put it up when I get farther from here. It was only a moment before she spotted the man leaning against the way, his mess of curls hanging around his face.

Her eyebrow raised. He was bold, to not be trying to leave the city already.
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Clarion Call to Chaos · City Randatria


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Please don't steal the original ideas of the players and characters as it is illegal and shows you have a lack of creativity.
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