Gunslinger
The desert seemed to stretch endlessly towards a horizon shimmering in the heat, tall saguaros standing in defiant relief amidst the otherwise barren landscape. A hot sun beat down relentlessly, seeming to steal any hint of moisture from the very stones.
The clop of hooves on the hard ground made an impossible loud sound, and Thorn grimaced. Ranger territory was dangerous; there were thieves along every road. Where as she would be an easy enough target to spot, the thieves had the advantage of knowing how and where to hide. Up ahead on the left was a small boulder and Thorn watched it carefully. It was the only thing large enough for a human to hide behind for miles, and at this time of day someone would be able to hide in the shadows on the other side without any trouble. She tapped her horse with her heels, urging it to trot past the rock. No one. The elf chuckled softly to herself. "I'm being a bit too paranoid, eh girl?" She said, giving the horse's neck a pat. The horse bobbed it's neck at her touch as if in agreeance.
Less than an hours ride away, the dark shapes of buildings seemed to grow up from the desert, the dark wood looking as old and worn as the dirt itself. As Thorn approached from the main road, she adujsted her wide brimmed hat, causing a shadow to conceal her eyes. Not that it made much difference; her ears were far too long to be covered, and her yellow eyes seemed to have an eerie glow to them even in complete darkness. But still, maybe her eyes wouldn't be noticed under the heavy brim, though she doubted she would be that lucky. This was definately a human town, and while humans tolerated elves close to the border, the farther into human lands you got, the less likely you were to be welcomed. She was in pretty deep, and while a streak of kindness wasn't common to find, it wasn't impossible either. So she rode on into town, ignoring the stares and whispers from the townsfolk with a cautious dignity. It didn't help that her clothing was rather...revealing for their more conservative tastes. The reactions were the same in every town like this: Men gawked, the younger ones more openly while the older ones tried to stay subtle, mothers covered their children's eyes or chastised them for their loud, blunt questions. Some women blushed, and a group of older church-going biddy's scowled and whispered harshly amongst themselves. Thorn's senitive ears caught many of the whispers, but they were mostly curious or chastizing..no whispers of hostility yet. So far, so good.
Regardless of the size of a town, in Thorn's experience there was almost always a saloon or inn near the outskirts. If the town was really small, they were often the same building. This town was really small, and it was hard to miss the large building. Tall sunbleached lettering announced it as the Dusk Valley Inn, though the saloon-style doors and the usual sounds of music and swearing that drifted out onto the street spoke of the alcohol and gambling to be had inside. Ignoring the stares of the townsfolk, Thorn guided her mare over to the inn and wrapped the reigns around a hitching post next to a trough of muddy water before heading through the swinging doors.
The desert seemed to stretch endlessly towards a horizon shimmering in the heat, tall saguaros standing in defiant relief amidst the otherwise barren landscape. A hot sun beat down relentlessly, seeming to steal any hint of moisture from the very stones.
The clop of hooves on the hard ground made an impossible loud sound, and Thorn grimaced. Ranger territory was dangerous; there were thieves along every road. Where as she would be an easy enough target to spot, the thieves had the advantage of knowing how and where to hide. Up ahead on the left was a small boulder and Thorn watched it carefully. It was the only thing large enough for a human to hide behind for miles, and at this time of day someone would be able to hide in the shadows on the other side without any trouble. She tapped her horse with her heels, urging it to trot past the rock. No one. The elf chuckled softly to herself. "I'm being a bit too paranoid, eh girl?" She said, giving the horse's neck a pat. The horse bobbed it's neck at her touch as if in agreeance.
Less than an hours ride away, the dark shapes of buildings seemed to grow up from the desert, the dark wood looking as old and worn as the dirt itself. As Thorn approached from the main road, she adujsted her wide brimmed hat, causing a shadow to conceal her eyes. Not that it made much difference; her ears were far too long to be covered, and her yellow eyes seemed to have an eerie glow to them even in complete darkness. But still, maybe her eyes wouldn't be noticed under the heavy brim, though she doubted she would be that lucky. This was definately a human town, and while humans tolerated elves close to the border, the farther into human lands you got, the less likely you were to be welcomed. She was in pretty deep, and while a streak of kindness wasn't common to find, it wasn't impossible either. So she rode on into town, ignoring the stares and whispers from the townsfolk with a cautious dignity. It didn't help that her clothing was rather...revealing for their more conservative tastes. The reactions were the same in every town like this: Men gawked, the younger ones more openly while the older ones tried to stay subtle, mothers covered their children's eyes or chastised them for their loud, blunt questions. Some women blushed, and a group of older church-going biddy's scowled and whispered harshly amongst themselves. Thorn's senitive ears caught many of the whispers, but they were mostly curious or chastizing..no whispers of hostility yet. So far, so good.
Regardless of the size of a town, in Thorn's experience there was almost always a saloon or inn near the outskirts. If the town was really small, they were often the same building. This town was really small, and it was hard to miss the large building. Tall sunbleached lettering announced it as the Dusk Valley Inn, though the saloon-style doors and the usual sounds of music and swearing that drifted out onto the street spoke of the alcohol and gambling to be had inside. Ignoring the stares of the townsfolk, Thorn guided her mare over to the inn and wrapped the reigns around a hitching post next to a trough of muddy water before heading through the swinging doors.
