<div style="text-align: center"><img alt="[​IMG]" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" data-url="http://i.imgur.com/OBYSo.gif" src="http://i.imgur.com/OBYSo.gif" style=""/><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'georgia'"><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="color: #9D612B">TELL ME WHY ALL THE BEST LAID PLANS<br/>
FALL APART IN YOUR HANDS</span></span></span>​</div><br/><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: #544A41"><span style="font-family: 'georgia'"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="color: #9D612B">The journey had been one spent in silence,</span></span></span> for she had no intention to set off any of the scarecrows.  Although she knew very little about them, she had figured it was their duty to protect Burland City, so any truly suspicious acts befitting a proper vandal would likely upset the silent guardians.  That was the last thing she needed right now.  So, going about on her best behavior, Sbatarra entered the city without a word, only offering a nod of the head in return to one of the scarecrows, and another nod towards the guard who had given her a wary glance.  Although she looked like a bandit, or like an assassin even, it was better to be seen as a potentially dangerous character than revealed as a drow, especially in a human city as large as this one.  Most surface drow all knew to avoid such large cities, for there was rarely any love for them, as opposed to small villages and towns, which could grow accustomed to drow much faster than the sprawling metropolises of surface society.  Sbatarra really did not want the word getting around that there was a drow in the city, as that would make finding an inn so much harder.<br/>
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Glancing up and down the streets, Sbatarra flared her nostrils briefly, checking for the telltale smells of a bar.  Sweat, liquor, blood, and disappointment.  Once she picked up the scent, she would make her way towards it, then see about getting a room and directions throughout the city, as well as any delicious rumors that would help an adventurer such as herself.  Since it was late, none of the shops would be open, so she had plenty of time to kill before she needed to do her shopping.  Maybe she'd hole up in some corner of a tavern, smoke and look broody, and way for some fledgling greenhorn adventurers to approach her and offer her a job.  That's how all the professionals did it these days, right?</span></span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: right"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'"><span style="font-size: 22px"><a class="externalLink" href="http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=454315" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">*</a></span></span>​</div><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>