<div class="floatleft">(https://i.ibb.co/K0D7pwv/Khaida-DS-shadow.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">𝔎𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔡𝔞 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔞𝔫</span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Port Dawn, Main Market<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>-<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Re-supplying<br/><hr/><hr/>The Market was a bustle of bodies and smells, the torrent of buyers and sellers conglomerating into a swell of shouts and squabbles over the barter of goods. A light breeze wafted the scent of spices and foodstuffs over the musky odor of sweat and dirt. Khaida edged her way through the crowd, her face a sour rictus of disdain. The dragonslayer had left her affects at the guild house, making her way quickly to the market to pick up a few more supplies. She needed extra rations and trail items now that she did not have the assurance of other slayers in the forthcoming campaign. Members of the Fang Breakers she could count on for certain needs. But a group of total strangers? She wouldn't test her fate on the hope that they would be properly prepared.<br/><br/>The polished captain that had invited her thus, had pressed the importance that her role would be to safeguard the group against draconic threat. Khaida had agreed without hesitation, but her true nature would easily forfeit their lives for a chance at a kill. She wouldn't sacrifice them needlessly, of course. But if it came between saving a life of one of the party or taking down a significant quarry, Khaida always chose the quarry. She was not a Guardian. Her role was to kill, not protect. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that she got through the Mountain Gate. Approaching a green-skinned vendor, the redheaded huntress motioned for them to bring her a few parcels of jerked meat. As the cloth wrapped rations were passed to her for an exchange of coin, Khaida could smell the salty morsels within. It was pig, from what she could tell, a good and fatty portion, too. Giving the short goblinoid a satisfied smile and nod, Khaida moved on to look for another seller. She still needed some extra ointments and salves for injuries.<br/><br/>Normally, the slayers traveled with a contingent of medically trained individuals. They had drowned with the rest of the guild members, and the battle-scarred huntress had to count on her own capacity to tend to wounds. Her practice was meager at best, and Khaida did not relish the thought of getting burned or poisoned. She wondered if there was even an apothecary here that sold wyvern anti-venom. As she pushed through another gaggle of smelly passersby, the pale female clutched her supply pack close to her chest. The density of this crowd was perfect for cut-purses, and she kept an attentive eye out for thieves.