As the drizzling rain intensified to a steady flow Vaya cursed softly.  While she was thankful for the dusty blue cloak she had taken from an abandoned stead many miles back she could not help but shiver in the chill of the moor as her clothing beneath the thick cloth was of a nature far less suited to these climates, thin and revealing silks that did little hide her figure nor protect her from the cold.  In the distance, the sorceress spotted the wooden palisade of the rogue's encampment and her feet hastened in their steps, making brisk walk through the mud that the dirt path had become.<br/><br/>Entering the camp the woman found herself perplexed by how similarly skimpy the rogues were dressed even though none of the pale women so much as shivered despite their similarly exposed states.  No few of them were visibly feeling the effects of the cold in a different way though, erect nipples surprisingly easily visible through leather chestpieces, drawing the eyes of the men scattered through the camp.  Blushing slightly at how shamelessly the fighting women carried themselves, Vaya looked away from them, eyes searching through the camp for a leader of some sort.  Perhaps she could exchange her talent for magic for a place in the camp for a few days at least.