[Story] The girl wore red

Saphran sat down on the log, conveniently located in the middle of the clearing. Steam rose from the blood soaked snow under the massive corpse lying on the ground. The tiny gnome busied herself tending a wound on her arm, cleaning it and applying a bandage.

Cursing to herself, she wondered if she was ever going to be warm again. Saphran hated travelling during the winter. If it was at all possible, she would winter somewhere nice & warm, tucked up beside a fire, reading an entertaining novel containing dashing heroes, naive damsels and dastardly villans. And that's exactly what she had planned for this winter. She'd even picked a great epic novel that was going to take her a month to read. Unfortunately for her though, someone had inadvertently told her some-time employer where she could be found. They had sent a messenger who had arrived before Saphran could even finish the first page.

The message had been simple and direct.

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Get your butt to Winterspring. We suspect there is going to be trouble. Our sources have indicated that there will be an exchange of an extremely important artifact that we are interested in acquiring. Just so you are aware, a lot of other people will also be interested and are quite likely to interfere. Of note, one of our sources within the Stormwind Army has indicated that Max Thordain has also been contracted to investigate.

The exchange has been set to occur in Everlook ... (( Lets just say Saphran knows she has to get her butt to Winterspring ))

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Of course, simple and direct does not necessarily mean easy. As soon as Saphran had read Max's name she knew that this artifact had to be very important for Stormwind to send one of its most valued and skilled mercenaries. Saphran had never encountered Max in person, but she definitely knew of his reputation.

So she had grudgingly picked up her things, made her goodbyes to the kind dwarves who she was to be wintering with and headed out to Everlook. Now she was in Winterspring, just having made her first kill of the day.

She finished tending her wound and bent to pick up her sword which was lying on the ground. After wiping it in the snow in a vain attempt to clean it, she proceeded to sheath it in the scabbard at her waist.

Stamping her feet and clapping her hands to try and get the blood flowing into her extremeties again, she began whistling a quiet tune, trying to remember what it was like to be warm and comfortable. Realising that it was futile, she headed east towards Everlook, leaving her tiny gnomish footprints behind her.