The Newest Rogue

Vilahndrah sat on the edge of the building over the city, leaving her camel tied to a post on the ground. Tear stains streaked her dirty face. She was disheveled from a grueling day training, killing, and trying to mime everything whenever she needed to communicate with someone.

And she considered giving up...

The young half-elf, half wood nymph rested her chin in her cupped hands, and watched the moon over the southern sea.

She spoke softly to herself, in elvish that rolled musically off her tongue. "Are you there Ixion? Why have I come here? No one understands me... And I am a woodswoman, a guild of rogues is not my place, is it? Please help me... I'm so confused."

Of course, there was no one there to answer her, but for a moment, she thought she felt a warm pat on her shoulder, the way her brother used to.

She felt a little better, but was still discouraged by the prospect of climbing from the roof and trying to talk in her broken form of common tongue. That was her biggest problem. She did not know the language.

Before now, she spent her entire life in the woods where she'd grown up, among a colony of elves. She'd left... because she felt compelled to live her own life, the way she saw fit. But now, it didn't seem to be working out.

But she drew up all her courage, and climbed down, once again mounting the camel, and prepared to reenter the guild. She would not give up... yet.