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The old nag plodded along, her hooves clopping along the first trail. The vardo wagon, with its large diameter wheels and springs enabling it to carry itself over gnarled roots and scree. It could go places regular wagons could not.

Atop the wagon sat an elven woman, her tresses long and golden. Ensconced in loose black silks she cast her gaze through the deep shadows of the surrounding forest. She was laid back, reclining upon her cushions, bare toes wrapped around the edge of the foot rest. She held the reins loosely in her hands as the horse found her own way through the verdant forest.

She had been traveling for some time, too long, and she was getting nearly so weary as her horse. She had no idea where she was exactly, didn't care really, so long as she was headed north and west. What she really wanted was an inn. Her vardo was comfortable enough but what she really wanted was to spend some coin on a hot bath.

Assallya Kressair

Elven Enchantress

Personality: Assallya Kressair is a charlatan, con-artist, dancer, courtesan, and really whatever role she can think of that gets her by. She is exceedingly good at lying and feigning emotion. Generally, there are two ways to look at any good deed. One could perform such an act out of honest good will but others look upon it as an investment by establishing a bond that can be exploited at a later date. Assallya is of the latter. She is a coward, a braggart and a bully but what she isn't is needlessly cruel nor traitorous. She would not betray her fellows, not unless the reward involved a sum large enough to alter her life substantially. After all, What use is scoring a gem or two in return for a half dozen angry and resourceful adventurers eager to tan your hide?

She also has something of a phobia of the undead which are largely immune to her magical abilities. She, thanks to her upbringing, most unlike an elf, despises all things related to nature.

Abilities: Sorcery, Carousing

Weaknesses: No close combative ability. No armor. Cannot cast most combat spells like fireballs or lightning bolts. Must be able to speak, or at the very least whisper, and move her hands to cast most spells.
Finally, with a cartoon like pop, Pyre was pulled free. Immediately the pair were deafened by the ongoing shrieking of raw and utter terror.

"Ohmigod ohmigod," she squealed, breathing heavily.

Then she looked into Maisy's face and screamed all over again. It was after all the face of one of those people the rogues were fighting with.
The fire sorceress continued to struggle as Jace ended his spell in hopes of freeing her. As fast as the forest floor became quicksand the quick sand returned to being forest floor with Pyre's legs sticking out of it.

Pyre suddenly found herself pinioned, her legs still bicycling uselessly in the air. She wasn't sinking anymore but she couldn't move either.
Pyre ran. Golden anklets clinked and chimed. She peered backwards over her slender shoulder, looking to see if Maisy was lending chase. As a result she don't see the small root that Jace grew up out of the ground in front of her. One foot stuck it and she tripped. Pyre hurtled through the air, arms flailing, squealing in shock and plunged head first into the waiting quicksand that the druid had placed.

Everything went dark. Pyre couldn't see anything. She wriggled and struggled. Above ground the only thing of Pyre Jace, Maisy and Jono could see were her legs sticking up out of the ground. Her legs windmilling uselessly.
Pyre didn't care what Maisy said. Either Jono was going to stick a dagger in her for letting her out there or Toryn was going to behead her for refusing to make a suicidal attack on Maisy. She was going to die either way if she stuck around.

"Toryn the Rotten!" the brigand bellowed, stepping over one of the unconscious players and jabbing his axe towards Jono.

He then spun the head of the axe ninety degrees and slashed upwards towards Jono's chest. He needed to keep attacking. If he let her distract him she could rest and regain stamina.
The big warrior, Toryn, eyed the knight girl warily. He honestly felt he could handle Jono now. She'd wasted a hell of a lot of stamina, moreso because she went for knock outs. He always went for the kill himself. It was easier on the stamina and overall a lot safer.

The second adventurer caused him a great deal of worry though.

"Pyre," he commanded, "Kill the Knight!"

Pyre, who was in the middle of regaining her feet blanched and killed back and forth between Toryn and Maisy.

"You have to be shitting me," Pyre exclaimed.

"Now!" Toryn raged and swung his axe at her.

Pyre fell backwards, the edge just missing her. She scuttled backwards on all fours, bare toes digging into the earth, getting herself out of reach even as Toryn turned his attention back to Jono.

Pyre then flipped over, got her legs under her and ran, her bare feet slapping the ground, her long chestnut braid flowing behind her.
Specifically Christmas stuff. Cookie tins I. Snowflake patterns and Christmas tree patterns. Tons of mugs featuring Santa and Rudolph.

Generally they're items you can't sell through the rest of the year.

Thus it became a problem.
Sorry about the delay. Work was busy. I found an entire pallet of Christmas merchandise hiding in a dark corner at the back of the store. Someone must have hidden it away so they wouldn't have to work it.
The ruffians were shocked by the resistance encountered. They were used to much easier prey. It was clear several of them, the real players, were reconsidering their strategies. One took a step back and began to shift to a crossbow.

"What are you all waiting for!" Toryn hollored loudly, shoving Pyre to the ground roughly and casually stepping over her like she was trash, "Kill the bloody wench!"

The warrior brigand hefted his large axe and waded forwards. He wasn't particularly eager to match weapons with Jono. They were likely too evenly matched but he needed to appear eager. After all, he needed some of the others to take a few hits and use up Jono's stamina bar.

Meanwhile, several of the rogues around Maisy began poking downwards at her prone form with their weapons. There was a good chance they might accidentally skewer their own companion but concern for the well being of their "friends" didn't seem to be their strong suit.
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