After managing to escape from the shadowy hellhound that attacked Yarith, the pair fled to a relatively close settlement called Ashkesk.  By the grace of the gods, Shadowe was able to find a proficient cleric moments before Yarith collapsed, falling unconscious at last from the blood loss and strain of keeping herself moving.  When next she awoke, it was in a simple bed, high-quality sheets shielding her near-nude body from sight.  It seemed as though either Shadowe or the cleric had liberated her from the armor she wore, and for Shadowe's sake, Yairth hoped it was the cleric.  Her first instinct was to rise to her feet immediately, but the pain she felt upon attempting that dissuaded the paladin from trying that any time soon.  It seemed as though she still needed to recuperate, even with the assistance of a healer.  The affected area has been wrapped securely, and judging by the nearby pot with numerous crimson-stained bandages, it'd taken a short while to stabilize her.<br/><br/>Once the paladin finally rose to her feet, she donned the clothing beneath her armor once more and sought out Shadowe, learning of the journey he'd taken, and their current whereabouts.  Ashkesk was a lesser-heard of area, one that Shadowe had learned of some time ago.  It was a smaller one, but they specialized in weaving and clothcrafting (as evidenced by their fine linens).  Their skill was truly unmatched, for all their anonymity.  Now was the time to rest and prepare for the journey ahead once more, amidst the busy streets of individuals from a myriad of backgrounds and areas.  Even the inn was packed full of people, to say nothing of the streets.   The paladin found herself wishing she could throw gold to these homeless individuals, but they scarce had enough for one last drink, much less enough to solve the issue of too many people and not enough buildings.  After some time, their only task was to find some new path to the pilgrimage site.  Among the idle conversation, bragging of fools, and the like, Yarith handed over the last of their coin to the bartender, grabbing a drink for Shadowe and herself.  She chose the least-populated area she could find, setting her glass down with a dull thud, crossing her arms over her wrapped chest.  "We have needs of a new path to the pilgrimage site, but we also know of at least one otherworldly beast set upon us.  The sorcerer has been slain, but I fear our threats are only just beginning.  What know you of this area, Shadowe?"  She asked, her voice calm but carrying every ounce of urgency it needed to.