[center][h2][color=bc8dbf]Tahira Misra[/color][/h2][/center]

Beads of sweat rolled down Tahira’s face, leaving no mark on the moisture retardant paints she used on her skin, and fell onto her legs. The result of her continued efforts. An ironwood quarterstaff was laid across the ground in front of her, recently acquired from an arms merchant in return for some labor which Galal had provided him. The air around the entire length of the weapon shimmered with heat from the magic she was attempting to imbue the item with. She had traded components with an alchemist, who had given her instructions on how to prepare a treatment to help the item retain magic. It appeared to be working, as the wood had not yet burst into flames after her repeated spell casting.

Tahira took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, then moved her palms above the staff. She opened herself to the Outlander’s power, feeling it blossom within her mind and through her body. She shaped it, channeling it outwards to the palm of her hands, and beneath them a virulent flame erupted around the staff. Ever so slowly, the flames focused inwards, soaking into the staff as if it were a sponge until they had disappeared completely. That was new.

Reaching down, she rolled the staff into her hands and gently lifted it off the ground. Hesitantly, she sent just a trickle of magic into the weapon. The result was immediate; a wave of heat washed over her and a web of glowing fissures spread across the surface of the staff as if it had been pulled from a roaring fire. A prideful smile plucked at the corners of her lips. [i][color=bc8dbf]This will do,[/color][/i] she thought, placing the butt of the staff against the dirt and using it to stand.

She had been kneeling on the dirt floor of a hovel she had commandeered in a shanty town growing from the walls of Lenaya. The shanty town was populated by penniless travelers, the servants - or slaves - of wealthy merchants who could afford to reside within the heavily populated city, and a variety of other down on their luck peasants. Cities were a strange thing, Tahira had found. They were much like a gamble against oneself, where the smallest portion succeeded and the rest would have done better off to remain within the tribes that had been mankind’s birth. They called the tribal peoples such as the Valishul savages, but she had heard of and seen greater acts of savagery within the walls of Lenaya than she had ever known on the Sand’s Teeth.

Of course, Tahira had been unmolested during her time in the city despite her ignorance of their ways and vulnerable appearance. The reason why became evident as she stepped out of the hovel and proceeded towards the city proper. Falling in behind her, Galal stood head and shoulders above the shaman, with arms as thick as her waist. He didn’t like fire, so she had left him outside to avoid scaring him. Although he was a gentle giant, nobody knew that, so the crowd parted around the two of them wherever she went.

After her last battle on the road to Lenaya she had decided that her kurki wouldn’t always be enough, although it would have been easier to imbue with the Outlander’s might, so her first few days in the city had been spent gathering the resources and knowledge for enchanting a new weapon with a longer reach. The flyer had been convenient discovery, the journey that would come from such an undertaking was the type that fed the mind, body and soul. It had also been the perfect reason to craft a new tool, which is why she had decided to enchant the staff before going to this ‘Golden Guar.’

Not knowing the way, she approached a young street urchin. The boy shied back at the sight of Galal, but did not run as he noted the metal token that Tahira had produced from a pouch. She was not entirely sure how these were used, even after so long in Lydia, but the ‘coins’ held value to these people and they would suffer to receive them.

“[color=bc8dbf]Will you take me to the Golden Guar tavern, young man?[/color]” She asked, proffering the coin. Her low, sultry voice was difficult to make out in the higher pitched noise of the crowd, but he nodded, edging forward and snatching it from her grip before beckoning her on and moving down the street. He led her and Galal to a modest building of wood and stone with a sign depicting what must have been a golden guar. She thanked the boy and handed him another token before he raced away with his prize.

Not sure what to expect, Tahira entered the tavern cautiously. Behind her, Galal had to turn sideways to get his broad shoulders in, and that caused the bag on his shoulder to get caught on the hinges. She turned towards him with a sigh, nodding encouragingly when he made the right moves, until he finally managed to get in with a squawk of triumph. When she turned around she saw those others who had gathered in response to the flyer, two women and an armored male warrior, both of the women accompanied by their own companions. Was one of them Ilium Norak?