<div class="floatleft">(https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/021/776/701/large/anna-elizabeth-astrid2.jpg?1572906977)</div>Wrapped in a cloak of dark green and settled on the back of a trotting warmblood, Pharli Willowbrook of the Wood Elves rides into Nowhere with the length of a smooth quarterstaff strapped to her back and eyes of emerald green studying the poor biology that struggled to thrive in the dying wasteland. The pungent stench of plant rot mixed with the stink of the area crinkled her nose. The rumors undersold the misery of this place. When she bought<em>Ursula</em>for the ride to the Badlands, she had taken the time to speak with the locals at the tavern. Some of the more seasoned adventurers had regaled her with tales of passing through Nowhere and the troubles they met that kept them from leaving. Bandits, cretins and malevolent sorcerers burgeoned within the palisades, preying on visitors and wallowing in their own perversions. It was a hellhole ripe for the saving.<br/><br/>That was Pharli's intent. The loss of nature poisoned the Badlands and she hoped with the healing touch of a druid she could bring life back to the sweltering wastes. The elf easily gained entrance to the community, slowing her horse to a walk. Outsiders were not uncommon and in her current apparel she did not stand out among the crowd. Her horse did catch a few stares, but that is as far as it went. Gently pulling in the reigns, she halted Ursula near the local Inn and Tavern. The establishment was not hard to find as it attracted the most repellent of individuals. A host of them gathered outside to haggle patrons and loiter with their frothing mugs of drink beside the entrance. Ignoring them was not the issue but tying her companion to the hitching post would leave her vulnerable for theft. A rope would not deter a determined thief.<br/><br/>Sliding a hand along the warmblood's jaw, she murmured a soft apology to the mare, eliciting a quiet whinny. They would have to risk it. She slid off the saddle and led the mare to the post, double knotting the rope. The raucous laughter and lewd remarks from the wily loafers reached her ears, no doubt spying her figure and formulating a plan to harass her as she entered Dry Gulch. How annoying. Patting the warmblood's pelt, a final time, she eyed the rear of the building. Perhaps it had a back door she could sneak through?<br/><br/>"<strong>Worth a shot</strong>", she muttered under her breath, pulling the cloak tighter.<br/>