[Naria]

Narleah had crept out of her village in the Misty Mountains with not one of her kin the wiser. She was not very keen on the idea of sharing the hidden loot with anyone else. So Narleah plodded on with her floppy leather hat pulled down over her forehead and a heavy knapsack lugged over her shoulder.

The sun was beating waves of heat down on her small Dwarven body, making her sweat profusely. It was at that time that she decided to take a seat under a tree that provided a small amount of reprieve. Narleah had kept a close eye on her beloved bottle and checked her pack once again, reassuring herself of its whereabouts. First she removed her extra set of clothing and food:One woolen tunic for those chilly evenings and some dried meat and flat bread for when she could not find sustenance elsewhere. "There you are," she said plucking the bottle from the bottom of her pack. She read the label, yet again, and found renewed confidence in herself. Narleah took a huge breath in and gave herself a whack on the chest with her fist. She gave a heave and a grunt and pulled herself up off the ground. She had put all of her belongings back in their respective places in her knapsack. Narleah then scooped up her weapons and looped her hatchet in its belt and with the use of her rope crosswise over her chest and back; attached the mace to it for easier transport.

Once again Narleah found herself out in the heat and wondered while puffing a piece of beard hair from her chin, what each turn would hold for her in the days to come.