<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/FSI343P.png)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Name:</strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;">Shiloh Tien</span> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=332525.msg15850549#msg15850549)<br/><strong>Tier:</strong> Green<br/><strong>Level:</strong> 1<br/><strong>Job Class:</strong> Archer<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong> Day 1, Late Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Food Stalls &gt; Ming Ming's Shop &amp; Smithy<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Xenyora, Feyrun, Ming Ming, Jabari | OPEN<br/><strong>Mentioned:</strong> The Other Espers  ;)</span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;">Shiloh felt a smooth tap on her right shoulder mid-bow. <br/><br/>Thankfully, her unnaturally cold arms were fully covered by her lilac shirt. Her skin shouldn’t bother anyone, but still there was a small chance... “...” she paused for a moment, gazing now at the young man who had, presumably, touched her shoulder. But her big, dark eyes had to keep trailing upward. <em>That never happened.</em> He....! “You are the tallest person that I have ever met.” <br/><br/>Her compliment was slightly out of context, bold and soft at the same time. As if most of her words were trapped inside her head, including any introduction of her name or herself. She felt… too close. <em>Everyone else was too close. And… And… they were all her... Strong? They – the others, her peers, the Caerdujan’s – they…</em> Shiloh did not feel strong. Nor, really, did she want to be considered strong. Not in Caerduja. Caerduja needed to believe that Oliarin still needed aid, and therefore she, an Oliarin resident, was not strong. She wanted to be... Er, well, unassuming? Her peers all seemed so… not unassuming. Did people her age… What did people her own age want to be, besides healthy and agile and rich? Her gloved hands twisted around the handle of her dark, wooden bow yet again. The tall man introduced himself as Xenyora, and he had a companion with him. <em>A best friend.</em> Feyrun. A wolf, of some kind, but Shiloh had never hunted a wolf quite like this, especially not one with a human name and a human language... Her dark eyelashes fluttered as their tails wagged. <em>Both the monk and the wolf had tails.</em> Tails seemed far more useful than cold skin and dull grey hair. Oh dear.<br/><br/>She wondered where this monk had come from, with his tall tails and his... taller wolf. Her pale lips twitched into a small, somber smile. Oliarin wasn’t.... The people of Oliarin didn’t have their stature or their muscles. Not anymore, not for centuries, but.... It was impolite to ask so many questions of others! That… armored competitor who had threatened her before… he had found her voice offensive. <em>Very offensive.</em> She did not want to offend anyone else, and not just for her own sake of course, but for all of Oliarin. She represented Oliarin here, at Caerduja’s Grand Tournament, and so far… So far… <br/><br/>“Thank you very much for your unambiguous directions,” Shiloh spoke humbly instead, and bowed respectfully again, this time with only a nod of her grey head. Her big, dark eyes then fluttered past Xenyora, glancing down the marketplace. As she did, she noticed… guards. <em>Caerduja’s security.</em> Wandering first, but now… Suddenly there was yelling, and some sort of commotion further down the marketplace. <em>Murder? Is that what…</em> There were too many people, more now, as if yelling was some sort of <em>spectacle</em>. Shiloh couldn’t quite see what commotion was happening from her current vantage point, but she could see a guard, maybe more, moving swiftly towards whomever was yelling these strange things, past the dessert stall. Shiloh grasped her bow even tighter, threatening to snap its wood to pieces. <em>Should she help whomever was yelling?</em> In Oliarin, she would help without question, but there was never violence. But if she went over… If she saw what the commotion was… It could be violent, in Caerduja. Or maybe.... Not… no… She… <em>Were the Caerdujan’s watching everyone, or just her and the other competitors?</em><br/><br/>But... it was the guards <em>job</em> to handle any sort of commotion. They were the tournament’s security, <em>not</em> Shiloh. Shiloh was from Oliarin, the codependent, aging and ill city, and was trying her very best to be unassuming. “.... Your… best friend’s bone structure appears to be very healthy.” Her big dark eyes glanced over at Feyrun a second time, as she gave one final compliment to Xenyora. And it <em>was</em> a compliment, to Shiloh. She did not know many things, but her knowledge of animal skeletons and muscular definition was… <em>present</em>. The nature of her hunts depended on how weak and ill her prey was. Feyrun was very well cared for, given his posture and coat texture, even from where she stood.<br/><br/>With one last, meek smile towards her peers at the dessert stall, Shiloh spun on her back foot and shrunk away from the crowd, heading in the opposite direction of it, towards the blacksmith. Her big, dark eyes turned downward, tracing the large edges of Feyrun’s paw prints in the dirt. A small habit from back home. <em>It was… strange to move in the reverse direction of a beast.</em> Feyrun’s tracks were upside down, for starters... But, it <em>was</em> better than making eye contact with marketplace sellers that she was not interested in buying from. She did not want to waste anyone’s time… Well, any more than she already had. The blacksmith… Er, hopefully they had experience with arrows. Or would not mind touching her arrows, even though they were… not very high quality. She did not have a lot of—<br/><br/>Her dull, grey head rose at more shouting. Oh dear. <em>Feyrun’s tracks came from this direction, and Xenyora confirmed the blacksmith was before the dessert stall, so what was all the-</em> Oh no. The yelling was <em>from</em> the blacksmith. Shiloh felt her stomach flip-flop and roll over, and she swallowed, hard. She… just be generous! And if she needed to impress the short but very confident female blacksmith, then she would… probably… come up with something in the moment except that there was... <em>there was a monkey behind her.</em> Behind the female blacksmith sat a very well-accessorized and stoic monkey. <em>A gigantic monkey was in Caerduja.</em> <br/><br/>Shiloh’s feet quietly scurried up to the loud, small, female blacksmith, keeping her grey head low, and her shoulder’s hunched, as if she was afraid to be seen. “Hello, do… Can… Help… I am very sorry. Let me compose myself and start again.” Shiloh took a small, audible breath inward, and then nodded her head, keeping her dark eyes low as this woman was even <em>more</em> pretty and professional than she had been from afar. “I am an archer… Just an archer, competing in the tournament and if I was at home I would sharpen my arrows myself by the soft sand and serene beaches, but since I am here…” Her dark eyes looked up at the monkey. But he wasn’t a monkey. He was much <em>more</em> than that. “Your pearls… They are very beautiful and well-maintained. In my city, we wear dried flowers to show our heritage. The warriors of Oliarin used to wear skulls, too, but… the world is different now. It has been for a long time." He… <em>they</em> were the blacksmiths. The money and the lady, together. How… wondrous. “I know that I am not… as fancy as either of you are, but I do have gil and I would like to spend it here. Do you handle arrows?” Her big, curious, dark eyes drifted between the odd pair of smithys, as if ready to share a secret. </span>