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[center][color=peru][b]Morrigan Wren Asherah[/b][/color] | [i]Wandering in Wanderneir[/i][/center]
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[indent][i]"I have not directly had anything to do with your shadow sprite problem. A new day is coming for this world, and if you wish to survive you had best be ready to rise and meet it."[/i] Morrigan continued to glare at him. He dodged her question. Or decided not to answer the way she intended. There was no point in her trying to get information from this thing. Sighing heavily, she began to drop her bow as a newcomer approached. Heavy and loud, a dwarf butted into the group. What the hell was happening? Where are these people coming from? She had to think very carefully about her next few words if she was to escape this... predicament. Morrigan cursed at herself mentally, why would she ever call for help? [i]"Well, if you excuse me... My husband is probably worried sick that I haven't returned."[/i] Morrigan slung the bow over her shoulder and began backing away, more towards where the entry of the tavern. With a slight turn, [i]"-Ah, thank you again... I never caught your name?"[/i] Morrigan hurriedly asked. She did not trust that mounted man, and his presence caused her uneasiness. And that damn dwarf would draw so much attention! At this rate, Morrigan was bound to be hanged by morning. The only thing that could get her out of this situation was her magic, or hopefully this man that saved her. His robes were nice, and he had openly used magic in this kingdom that is so against it.  

Morrigan was becoming more antsy by the second. She needed to get back to her journal and her regular, comfortable armor. Darkness flickered over her eyes for a moment before she set her gaze onto the young man once more. Now that her hands were not occupied with bow and arrow, she put her hand over her open wound. It had ruined her peasant tunic and handmade corset with blood stains. As she awaited a reply from the mage, her eyes wandered towards the golem that seemed to be under the dwarfs control. It was a weird creation she hoped never to dip her fingers into. It seemed too machine-like to have a will.  [/indent]