In a moderately sized, underground burrow made surely by the hands of Halflings, there sat a woman. It was clear from her diminutive stature, yet still somewhat human-like features, that she herself was clearly of those people that constructed such a cosy little home. It was well lit, and well heated by a log fire, upon which there already burned a log of wood. The woman herself sat upon a wooden chair, having just awoken only an hour or so ago and had consumed her breakfast, leaving naught but the wooden plate. She was sat in some silent contemplation of her actions the day earlier; she had aided several people that had required It., but, perhaps aid was not the correct thing for certain folk that just didn’t want to live better lives? Perhaps that time could be better spent helping the sick. She contemplated this may a time before, but her nature desire to aid people, no matter their situation, was completely unshakable at all. She was Graelle Anris, not some petty and utterly selfish thug that merely looked upon those that required help with distain and disgust.<br/><br/>Getting up from her seat, Graelle went first towards her room, opening its heavy wooden door, and entering. It was perhaps the second most furnished of all the rooms in her little burrow, with the skin of a large wolf upon the floor, and various other bits of furniture scattered about the room in an ordered manner. It was a beautiful room, in her eyes at least. Walking over to her wardrobe first, she opened the doors, and pulled out a single set of clothing, or rather, armour. It was a simple suit of armour, but neither primitive nor barbaric, nor was it flimsy and ramshackle. Quickly donning it upon herself, she checked it to assure herself that it was donned correctly, which it indeed was. Alongside it, were located her tiny array of weapons. A bow constructed from wood, and shortblade from steel. Picking them both up, she attacked the latter to her belt, and the former was placed over her shoulder.<br/><br/>Exiting her room, and entering the burrow’s bathroom, of sorts, she gazed into a mirror made from a highly polished silver metal. Graelle was most certainly not a vain person, but looking presentable was always something to consider. Submerging her hands in a basin of cool water, she cleaned her face with the liquid, before drying it off upon a nearby towel. Taking out a brush made from the bone of a larger sized animal, she then brushed her nut brown hair into its usual style of being completely straight. When she had finished with the brushing of her hair, she placed the brush back where it was normally kept, though she continued to gaze upon the mirror.<br/><br/>Here she was, in a city filled with people that were perhaps the furthest thing from her own kind in the whole world. Filled with people far larger, and broader than anyone of her kind, some of them standing several feet taller, and being as wide as a small dwelling. Filled with people of vastly differing personalities and behaviours, many of which were often aggressive and loathed people such as herself. However, it was also filled with people that did truly appreciate the aid of other people, and found their helping to be beneficial rather than infuriating. The former filled her with a vast amount of happiness and joy, far beyond any false and fleeting joy the likes of wealth or power could ever bring upon her. It was a sense of truly assisting those that required it, rather than seeking to profit and exploit them because of their predicaments. Such a thing was loathed by her, those that helped…but only at a cost. Such a thought was indeed infuriating, but she couldn’t spend the day pondering and thinking. Instead she had tasks to achieve.<br/><br/>Whistling loudly, Graelle called out loudly.<span style="color: #FF0080">“Pan?”</span>Almost on-cue, a fairly large sixed housecat appeared from the kitchen. It was only a small animal, literally a larger housecat, though it had pitch black fur, as evident by its name, and bright yellow eyes. It had always been a faithful pet, never having bitten Graelle once in the few years since the Halfling had found him as a kitten. However, while he was a valued and loved pet, it was his use as a mount that was perhaps most profound, though he was large and strong enough to support a rider the size of Graelle with ease. With an almost joyous grin upon his face, the cat padded towards Graelle before brushing itself against her leg. Graelle herself had already gathered the cat’s light armour and riding equipment, a simple saddle, and some flexible leather armour. She began first with the armour, and while many a cat would hiss at the thought of wearing something like it, this cat seemed to favour otherwise, accepting the armour with minimal fussing. When the last of the buckles securing the armour to the feline was tightened correctly, she moved on to the saddle. As with the armour, it went on with minimal fuss from the cat. The armour was simple and flexible leather armour, that didn’t impede the cat’s movement in the least, while the saddle was a somewhat scaled-down version of a human sized equivalent, designed for races that lacked the great towering height of a human or larger.<br/><br/>Confident that the cat’s armour and saddle had been fitted properly, Graelle opened the door leading outside of her burrow, Panther scampered outside, while she exited and locked the door behind herself.<br/><br/>---------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Now standing outside, beside her mount. Graelle mounted the creature that she had just saddled and armoured, to some it would perhaps be considered something ‘cute’ and something to be gawped at, that a large housecat could be an effective mount for a two foot tall Halfling. Though she wasn’t that bothered by people that did such a thing, she found it quite amusing. Graelle noted that it was a gloriously sunny and bright day, devoid of seemingly all threats of rain and storm.<br/><br/>Having ridden for a fair while now, she remembered that there was a large mill nearby on her path, the Lowman Mille. She hadn’t passed there in a long while, perhaps it would be wise to ride there upon her journey, and try to find out whether anyone was in dire need. Though she doubted it heavily, mills were normally fairly well kept and the workers tended to be fairly stable when it came to funds. When she had rounded a bend in the road, she caught sight of the Mill in the distance, and what just about appeared to be three people stood outside it. Urging on her fleet-footed and black coated mount, she saw it fit to talk speak with the pair of men, as was only the only polite thing to do when passing near such a place. Luckily enough for herself, her steed was indeed swift, and she got within talking distance of the two men and single woman before they departed.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0080">“Greetings!” </span>She called out, hoping for some manner of friendly response. Perhaps rushing towards the group wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but she gathered that they all seemed to look like fairly decent people.