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The young woman, her clothes torn and dirty, mostly rags now, rode into the city of Brit from the northeast. Across her back hung a battered and worn lute that had seen better days. She held her head up high as the townsfolk stared at her appearance, some even turned their noses up at her as she barged her horse through their midst. Kena Zabrava returned their glares momentarily and then would smile at them. Some of the women would shuffle sideways; the men folk would cast bashful glances at her and then stare at their feet. Kena had always had a way about her that could disarm the most dangerous of the lot. Her horse continued its slow walk towards her destination. A well-respected leather and tailor shop. These people didn’t recognize her in this condition, but later these same people would pay a good coin to hear her sing and marvel over her skill with the lute. Funny how some people judge others by looks alone.
Kena moved closer to Outlaws Tannery hoping to find the leather worker himself present. His assistants were good, but she preferred his work over theirs. She dismounted and looped the reins of her horse around the hitching post, glanced around at the busy street taking note that no one lingered too close or took too much interest in her, and walked inside. The cool interior was a good respite from the unusually warm autumn day. Her luck was with her and the ole Outlaw himself moved around from behind the counter to greet her, “You look like hell girl.” He said as he eyed her torn clothes and ragged appearance.
She pushed some of her long blonde hair back out of her face and gave him a stern look and replied, “Yea, but I have an excuse, what’s yours?” She flipped him a gold coin and allowed her dazzling smile to shine through the mud and grime that covered her face and gave him a wink.
The tailor known as Outlaw gave a soft laugh and motioned her towards the back of the shop, telling her to get cleaned up so that her stench wouldn’t drive away all his good paying customers. As she sauntered away like she owned the place, he then set about preparing some new leather armor for her, idly wondering what had happened to her previous set of armor.
Kena moved closer to Outlaws Tannery hoping to find the leather worker himself present. His assistants were good, but she preferred his work over theirs. She dismounted and looped the reins of her horse around the hitching post, glanced around at the busy street taking note that no one lingered too close or took too much interest in her, and walked inside. The cool interior was a good respite from the unusually warm autumn day. Her luck was with her and the ole Outlaw himself moved around from behind the counter to greet her, “You look like hell girl.” He said as he eyed her torn clothes and ragged appearance.
She pushed some of her long blonde hair back out of her face and gave him a stern look and replied, “Yea, but I have an excuse, what’s yours?” She flipped him a gold coin and allowed her dazzling smile to shine through the mud and grime that covered her face and gave him a wink.
The tailor known as Outlaw gave a soft laugh and motioned her towards the back of the shop, telling her to get cleaned up so that her stench wouldn’t drive away all his good paying customers. As she sauntered away like she owned the place, he then set about preparing some new leather armor for her, idly wondering what had happened to her previous set of armor.