Sliding a hand across the front of her face to swipe away a fly which had flew a little to close for her liking, Anora found herself in an unusual spot considering.  Sitting on a stack of crates down the road from the tavern where she had stayed, Anora was examining this city on the look out for an interesting story to listen in on or a good deal on something she needed.  Around her all she could hear were merchants trying to explain why their goods were better than the shop next door and why they should pay extra money for it, or the odd conversation about how a night went wrong when someone drank one pint too many at one of the taverns.  Those annoying fly s were jumping from people to people, stall to stall trying to find their next meal, and annoying her in the process.  To her, this was as usual a day in the city as she had ever seen; those merchants were ripping off their customers, while those ill-tavern patrons were reciting a story she has heard ten times over while the flies were, well, the flies were flies.<br/><br/>But what was unusual was not the fact that she was sitting on a crate outside a merchants shop more so it was that she remained sitting in the middle of a cities market district and was not out the gate guarding another caravan or looking for work on one.  But times were changing, Anora has heard stories about strange murders involving random people and a golden trinket.  If ever there was a place for her to listen in on what people knew, this was the second best place in a town.  The first best was in actuality was the tavern, in her limited experience alcohol has a funny way of allowing people to tell all sorts of strange tales.  But it never got useful till later in the night, those who fancy the tavern would either be at home nursing their mind or on the street complaining about it and not there telling the information she wanted to hear.  So here she sit, twirling three coins in her left hand waiting for information to present itself.<br/><br/>She would have craved information had it not been for the merchant who owned the crates returning to find this young woman sitting on one of his crates  “<span style="font-style: italic">Excuse me lass.  Either ye buy sometin' or ye better get off me crate.</span>”  Arona stopped twirling the coins as she noticed a patient sound in his voice.  She had been sitting out here all of ten minutes and she was getting no information on what was going on, begrudgingly she decided to play a game and see what he knew of those golden amulets.  With a sigh, she turned her gaze towards her left to size up that who either wished for her to be gone or for her money.  Her vision was greeted by the frail appearance of an elderly man in the twilight of his life.  He appeared to be a couple inches shorter than her, while also having a slight hunch in his back.  Reaching her hands up, she lowered her hood as she put on a fake smile as she spoke “<span style="font-style: italic">I am sorry to bother, but I was told that maybe you might have some arrowheads here.</span>”<br/><br/>The man gruffed a bit as he walked over to a chair she had not noticed before and he sat down.  He looked over and with a frown on his face he spoke “<span style="font-style: italic">None t'day.  Anythin' else ye need?</span>”  His tone was direct, her response followed suit<span style="font-style: italic">“I'm in need of a new cloak, my current one is rather old.</span>” She paused as she did a quick examination of his shop, both outside and what she could see inside.  “<span style="font-style: italic">But it appears you have not, would you be kind enough to point me to a shop that has some?</span>”  As she finished she positioned one of the coins on her finger and flicked it to the old man, it flew for a second before it bounced off his shirt and fell to his lap.  He quickly looked down and with a friendly smile on his face he simply said “<span style="font-style: italic">Magnus might, 'tis over there.</span>” He said while point a short walk down the street, she thought she saw which one he refereed to.  She gave the man a smile, deciding to ask if he knew anything about the amulets as she left she stood up.  “<span style="font-style: italic">Thank you.  If you wouldn't mind just one more question, have you seen anyone wearing a gold amulet of sorts around here.</span>”  But as she finished the face of the man grew confused, so without a hesitation she waved goodbye and was on her way.  Taking his advice she soon found herself outside what she thought was Magnus's shop.  She took a quick glance inside noticing a couple customers and the owner she presumed was Magnus.  With a sigh she found yet another crate to sit on, this time crossing bother her leg and her arms and began to wait once more, while she listened for any useful information from within or around.