[center][h1][color=493992]Wisk/[/color][color=D0D3D4]Sonnlinor Skora[/color][/h1][/center]
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[color=D0D3D4]"Damn this cold..."[/color] Skora cursed under her breath as she rode through the artic Dale snow on the back of a Sled being pulled by a pack of sleddogs. She enjoyed it at first, but found it too cold to properly find pleasure. Not for the first time, she wondered why the nine hells she agreed to this pilgramage to The Great Anvil. Though, admitable she was exceided, she was most definatly tired of this cursed land. [color=493992]"You know, we could be nice and warm down south, there's pleanty of dwarveny stuff somewhere... warmer"[/color] Wisk mumbled in her head but the priestss rolled her eyes and ignored herself. As she drew close to the town of Easthaven, she would hurry to her feet, excited to finally be in some form of civilivation. [color=25872B]"Welcome to Easthaven ma'am. I would watch your step as you hop out, snow can be quite slippery! If you're in need of lodge, look for the White Lady Inn."[/color] As the wagon came to a snop, the dwarf would give the man five gold pieces and climbed down from the wagon, carful not to slip. She would bid the man a good night and thank him for the ride, offering a blessing of Moradin for his help and troubles. Smoothing out her fur winter coat, the cleric would begain to walk around town, greeting all who passes by. She would walk around Easthaven, trying to map out two things. first where, if any, the local smith was, and then secondly the White Lady Inn.