She found heaven. A prancing queer expert at such things created the perfect outfit, both elegant and revealing. An artist sketched me while my mother...got fitted. The artist looked like another beautiful queer. My mom addressed the person as sir, admiring the sketches. Mistaking the gender, the artist waved away embarrassment. Thin and nervous, a dome of brunette hair thick enough to stay in place after two inches of growth perfectly coiffed, large brown eyes and a large nose, the tip hooking. . She fought the impulse to take a shower, even thought she felt filthy in so many angles... she had to get out.. Go back to the safety of her home... She wanted to run into her lover's arm and feel safe... But, how could she?No matter, she had to get out... she dried her face and hair rapidly, didn't care if the room was left on a mess. -"Fuck you, Randy... I would trash this place if I wouldn't want to leave so badly!" - She thought to herself, almost vocalizing her thoughts.She closed her. Setting that on the floor of the warehouse he checked his weapons, the rapier and the dagger. He noticed the militia people doing the same sort of self check. Captain Smith was also armed with a rapier and a dagger. In addition he was armored with a metal studded leather helmet, a leather back-and-breast, and heavy knee high leather boots. The militia troops were variously equipped but most had some version of the captain's armor. About half had swords, the other half tomahawks.It was time. He. Olsodin looks around from the stool he is sat upon, next to the counter. Wayfarer's Rest is still pretty lively for the hour, but nothing compaired to how it would been just five hours prior. The barkeep, as usually, sneaked away from his duties long ago. Behind him, across the room, Olso can see a troll woman and a tauren man holding their eyes locked into one-another, both shining, by love. He grows a small smile, and let his gaze go towards the tables. There he sees all kinds of people.