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Post by quaron on Jan 24, 2017 3:54:21 GMT
The folk of Shallowford were used to the presence of elves, but this one was odd. With black upturned eyebrows, tall and broad, and wide eyes that glared accusingly at every passerby, Quaron left the community shanties and marched to the markets. He noticed how guarded the people were, which was to be expected. But he (felt? no. perhaps, adjusted to) the invisible gap that seemed to create a barrier between himself and the other commoners.
He had certainly come a long way to meet the mayor's friend Hellish. And the caution of a few human's wouldn't stop him yet.
As Quaron continued, he noticed a few familiar landmarks. The empty inn kept by the short hairy merchant, the gate so many times repaired and destroyed that it more resembled a barricade, and the walls along which the small fox scavengers hunted goblins a week ago. Here, where the herald fey and his hound made their appearance. There where he and the colorful healer hid from the werewolf and the glowing doe (in fear? no. perhaps, with discretion).
The stone elf arrived in the center of the market and looked for the mayor's signs, supposing that one would point him toward the scrollmaker's workshop.
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