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Veska StormHide

Cloven hooves marched through the snowy terrain. Step by step, down and forward. Closer and towards. Over and yonder. So much to see, so much to do. Veska squinted her eyes and dusted any collecting snow from off her cloaked shoulders. Maybe her other self would refer to the place as a banquet, since she was a cow in town, for dark humor. 

Observing the area she thought maybe she caught it on a good day, a smooth sailing morning, workers hustling or others waking up. At least it wasn’t crowded beyond belief. Veska probably caught some attention from those around the streets, though maybe she’d be mistaken at first glance for an overgrown tiefling if she turned her head. Her horns weren’t cooperating with her hood, but oh well. She had made it this far, and was sure if she acted as proper as she could, maybe just maybe she wouldn’t get the boot or have to deal with a mob or guards. It seemed quiet enough, though sticking out like an odd fellow wasn’t always a good thing. Veska could only snort and decide what would be the next stop, away from the cold. A break was needed.

The bovine glanced down at the snow covered ground that revealed different tracks that seemed to scatter around different areas and not in uniform from walking townsfolk and wandering souls. Speaking of people, no face seemed familiar thus far, ah a clear slate. 

The Minotaur decided to follow her nose to a cozy tavern. Maybe a nice fire would be just what she needed. If the doors were big enough.
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Old School Villainy

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