"Thanks." Nicote sniffed, taking the bags and heading off to find some tissues. Or something to keep his allergies at bay while he's here.

You wander round the various market stalls for about an hour without much luck. It seems tissues aren't deemed useful enough for someone to make and sell them, and not enough Elves have feather allergies for other supplies like that.

Nicote instead starts looking for some camping equiptment-sleeping in the cold isn't exactly fun.

You find a vendor who is selling adventuring equipment. She looks you over for a second, a frown on her face, before asking, "What do you want? And is it goods or favours?"

"I need a tent. A good sturdy one. Not too heavy, though. I'll do favors."

"I've got plenty of them," she jerks her chin to a box filled with reasonably large packs. "I need you to deliver a few messages for me," she says, getting straight to the point. "But not through the messenger Griffins. I want you to deliver them personally. The addresses are written on them."

She hands you a few letters, all of them with neat writing on the back of them. They are all places you recognise, but that isn't necessarily a good thing. Every one of them are in the dodgy corners of Elvenor, where guard patrols rarely stop by.

"Anyone asks, tell 'em your one of Rosie's personal messengers. They'll leave you alone, kid. Get it done quick and the tent will be waiting for you when you get back."

Well...it's not griffins. That's good. He'd reather dael with crazy elves then griffins anyway. He nods, take's the letters, and heads off.

Hopefully he doesn't run into any griffins...

(Just to double check before I carry your story on, are you happy with your Magic Element and the proficiencies?)

After a while you find the streets getting more and more decrepit, the houses falling apart and the friendlier faces disappearing. Most of the Elves taking up residence in the ramshackle homes take one look at the letters held in your fist and find other places to be.

Griffins have more than half a mind to know not to go anywhere near this place.

One by one, you duck into shadowy alleyways delivering the letters through rotten doors and to the hostile looking Elves guarding them.

You take the same route back to the marketplace, and when you get back to the same stall as before you find that 'Rosie' has packed up and left. Your tent pack, however, is tucked just behind sight of any passers by.

[Shelter]Small Tent added to inventory

Nicote breahesa sigh of relief. At least he wont have to go knocking at an inn.....hopefully. Then again, he really doesnt to waste this opportunity to at least take abath. Or wash his face with something other then creekwater