Catherine moved through the alleyways of the town, gliding like a ghost, one hand always on a nearby wall. People passed her by as if she wasn’t even there, lost in thought or conversation. After a few minutes, she came to an inn, the Running Harpy Inn where she was currently bunked at.<br/><br/>The door jingled as she stepped into the Inn, the person behind the main counter looking up from his bookkeeping. “Catherine! My dear Catherine!” the wizened old man came up to her, giving her a big hug. “I take it that job went well? I haven’t seen you in a week!” he said, looking her up and down like a doddering relative despite the lack of blood relation. “What brings you here? Oh! Before I forget, I got what you requested right here,” he said, cutting her off before she could answer.<br/><br/>He walked back to the counter and pulled out a weathered but sturdy leather bag. It looked full but he old man seemed to ignore the weight of it as he brought it over to her. “Food stuffs, equipment, tools…everything you requested.” He hands it to her before giving her a big smile. “So, what else can I do for you?” he asks.<br/>