<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="background-color:#101010; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;">Marins Creek... The last place you'd expect magical artifacts to be hidden. Jaxintha certainly did not think she would find anything of value here, but apparently, her contractor did. It had been a long, arduous journey from the city of Caldoran to this hole in the ground, and for what? A few dusty pages torn from a book and revealing nothing except how utterly in vain the whole thing had been.<br/><br/>She rose from her crouched position on the cold stone floor. The building had been a place of worship of some sort, she estimated, based on the corpses that lay scattered around, all wearing identical robes, and how utterly bare it was. Presumably someone had come here before her to take whatever valuable objects they could find. Who in their right mind would rob plague victims?<br/><br/>The half-elf left the building, dissatisfaction apparent in her sharp features. The prospect of returning with an unfinished job, especially after such a long time, left an ugly mark on her professional pride. At the same time, she was done with this wild goose chase. Outside, the sun glared mockingly at her, making her put up her hood against the cruel rays. God, it <span style="font-style: italic">stank</span> here. Jax shuddered and waved away an all too fat fly. It left for a pile of bodies near the well, too. <span style="font-style: italic">Well, certainly not risking drinking from that, then,</span> she thought, grimacing, sending the sun a nasty glare of her own.<br/><br/>Leaving the ghost town of Marins Creek behind, Jaxintha started down the dusty road. There was enough time to get back to Caldoran - Markinson had waited for this long, he could stand waiting a little longer. For now, her main goal was to just find some shadow and a town - with a tavern, preferably - and maybe one or two living people. Yes, that would be nice indeed.<br/><br/>The person stumbling up the road certainly looked like she could use a tavern, too. Clutching a staff far and wearing a sack far too large for her, she none the less looked far more vivacious than the people Jax had left in Marins Creek. Still... <br/><br/>"Are you all right?" She prompted, coming to a halt at a polite, but safe distance. Maybe this one was sick, too. She didn't want to risk getting too close, even if death certainly was a great excuse for her not to complete her assignment.</div></div>