No rest for the wicked

Absinth was led across the battlefield at the side of the Warlord, their trek leading them to up into the mountain range that the Armadan wolves called home. The market place was teeming with life, and as the man led her into the cavern he urged her to explore for an idea of what she wanted her order to look like before his grandson made an appearance. Okay. Let’s see here…

The monochromatic fae stepped about the market, eyes flitting to and fro, seeking the weaponry and armor that caught her eye the best… and she did come away with some ideas. A dagger here, a set or two of armor that she wouldn’t mind with some slight alterations… it was all so tantalizing.

But she was here for a different purpose, and now that she had a decent idea of what she would like her reward to look like… Absinth returned to Sirius, an excited grin on her face. “It’s so– nice.” From anything she’s known, certainly. There were no dead bodies in the streets, first of all. No children begging, no women beckoning men away– it also lacked the scent of urine and alcohol. Though, she had seen a spirit’s trader among the sellers. That could be an interesting trade in the future….
wormwood