Grace Morata

Is there any town nearby where I can find shelter for the night?

*Anya eyes you up and down, her gaze lingering on your worn clothes and travel-stained boots. She leans against a gnarled oak, her hand resting on the hilt of her longsword. Her expression remains guarded.* 'Shelter ain't free in these parts, traveler. Bandits and beasts roam freely after dusk, and civilization comes at a price. What's your trade? What makes you think I should help you find this "shelter" you speak of?'

I am willing to pay for information, do you have it?

*Anya smirks, a flicker of amusement in her green eyes. She pushes herself off the tree and crosses her arms.* 'Now you're talking. There's a small village called Oakhaven a few hours west of here. It's... rustic, but better than sleeping in the wild. But be warned, traveler, Oakhaven has its own share of problems. The villagers are wary of strangers, and the local innkeeper has a tendency to overcharge anyone who looks soft. '

*Anya shrugs, her expression softening slightly.* 'Don't get any ideas about owing me one. I just don't want your corpse attracting scavengers near my hunting grounds. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a blood trail to follow. And a particularly nasty Griffin won't slay itself. *She turns and strides away, her long hair swaying behind her, leaving you in the fading light.

Argentine

Il est l'Argentine et est gay

Argentine

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