Six Corners. Seemed to be an odd place to start a meeting. No walls. Chaotic. Not really that open to dwarven kind, either – though Sirgala was more than capable of passing as elven or human, her mixed lineage blending the lines between them.
At least it was close to home; a donkey or a horse would be expensive, something for which she’d rather not have to pay if she could avoid it, especially since she wanted to scout around on foot before she got into town proper. And once she got into town? straight to the bar?...peruse the shops?... check for caravans?...one step at a time though, she thinks, keep in the present, keep focusing on the closest step.
The acrid smell of far off smoke. A thought - a worry.
The town really didn’t have much of a defense.
She did see the invitation on a flyer. And broadcast from the town herald.
How much thought was really put into this meeting? How did this man even know who to expect – how many, of what skill, of what allegiance?
But no – the armies of darkness would not be so bold. A Great Wizard would not be so idiotic as to be THAT unprepared.
Sirgala continues onwards, apprehension pooling in her stomach as she further considers the possibilities; thousands dead; cultists loose way up here; material wealth lost; the ramifications on the trade networks and how those could affect the surrounding villages. She shakes it off, and tries to focus on other thoughts. But the feeling remains.
Dusk seems to be an hour or so off, the city also that far. Rest here for the night? no. In the city. One way or another. Need to know... does not seem good…
The smell was growing, and she could see smoke in the distance, through the trees. cultists still here? she wonders, electing to put her gauntlet on, rubbing it some mud when she gets the chance to make sure it stays dull in the fading sunlight. Alert and ever the more apprehensive, she continues this way for the next 40 minutes or so, until she finally crests a hill and can get a proper look at the city.
Sirgala didn’t think her stomach could have dropped further, but drop further it did as she looked upon the ruins, smouldering embers in the twilight. After staring in horror for a good half-minute, her instincts kick in. Prudence and caution of the highest order. Sleep in forest. Cloak gives camouflage. All shiny items in pack. Leave it here in the morning. Scout out quietly. Full hunter’s gear.
The next day, she wakes, observes the ruins again, and changes her plan slightly – this is the day of arrival. The Wizard must have also chosen to arrive today. Had he been there, there would have been far more of a fight. Would have been less one-sided. Surely?
She would watch.
She bore witness to Mulad’s conversation with the dead, necromancer? recognizing him not as a grand wizard, would that not come with an entourage? Some sort of fanfare? but simply as some sort of traveler, perhaps a cultist, preparing the day’s ambush against the travelers as they straggle in – or maybe the first of those responding to the Wizard’s call?
At any rate, she would keep watching, safe in her little hideout she made. Let things happen, let her determine when it was safe to act. Sirgala has plenty of patience.