Name: Ariadne Locke Age: 24 Gender: Female Description: 5'7, with long white hair kept back in ponytail. Deep grey eyes. Outfit consists of leather armor, marksman's gauntlets, and a bow and quiver. Her knapsack can be found full of various herbs and and tinctures, and a knife in her boot. Occupation: (Former) Chambry Village night watch
Soft boot heels thudded across hard stone floor as the young woman entered through the city,staring in marveled amazement. It was her first time in the city; a bit of childlike wonderment could be permitted given the circumstances. The most structurally advanced piece of masonry in her small forest village had been the mill, and there really wasn't much to get excited over; just stone and a donkey inside walking in a very boring circle. Here though, here there were floors. Multiple floored buildings lined the streets. There were roads wide enough to fit multiple carts, and still have room for market stalls. All of those stalls were currently empty but that was probably for the best. Otherwise, Ariadne would never have had the focus to reach a destination.
The young woman reached down into her boot as she stepped forward, pulling out a blade wrapped in wool. The wool (once a stinky old sock) and the blade had once both belonged to her brother. It was all that remained of him, truly. There had been no explanation as to how or why these items had managed to arrive to her father's doorstep. It was the only thing of material wealth she even had to remember the fool by.
Ariadne stopped in the street for a moment, pulling back the wool to admire the craftsmanship. Such care had been put into the work, it was sure to leave a trail back to its maker. Sure enough it had, and that journey had brought Ariadne to the city of Temrin with only a few shillings on her person, a quiver and bow strapped to her back like some backwoods bumpkin, and a week's worth of rations starting to get concerningly low. Food would come later, though. The last person she had stopped and asked for directions had admitted just how close she was to finding what she sought. From her spot on the side of the road, as merchants moved to set up shop for the day, Ariadne could just spot the shape of the building right where the guard had said it'd be.
The worn boots of the hunter carried her across the street, pausing only for a creaky carriage pulled along by an aging mare, the clop-clopping of her hooves sounding half hearted, the wheeze of the coachman carrying even less resolve for life. When the last of the creaky wheels passed, Ariadne hurried up the way towards a sign that proudly displayed The Silver Dagger.
Well, not so much proudly displayed as just begrudgingly admitted. Tucking the blade down to her side (Nothing screamed "I should really open this door!" like a random person standing on the steps with a weapon drawn), Ariadne rapped a knuckle five times against the door and promptly waited for service.
