Lion Head Mesa Vvardenfell

Injuries are fine since she's trespassing!

Under cloak of night, a thief slipped past the borders of the mesa. She'd spent the day casing the territory from afar, hiding herself in grasses and shrubs as she watched the comings and goings. Not many. There were guards, she'd noted, but she didn't worry about them. Half the life of a thief was spent running; that was inevitable.

The important bit was getting in, and nabbing something of note. With no way of knowing what she might find, Nirali didn't have high hopes for this place. It was only a quick dip back into a the game, a bit of fun after months spent in flight. A bit of meat, maybe, and she'd count herself lucky.

She saw no alternative but to pass under the archway that seemed to serve as a sort of main entrance. What she found just beyond gave her pause. Nirali could not have known that she was standing in Akashingo's throne room, but what she did know was that she suddenly heard footsteps. Someone was coming. Shitshitshit. She reached blindly for something to steal from the odd chamber, determined to make this trip worth it.

Then she turned and prepared to bolt.

The doctor was in.

With the girl resting and the guardian keeping watch over her, Gil could wander the palace to her heart's content. She did not hold much interest in the various sleeping quarters, or the catacombs when she came upon them, or even the wellspring; only, as she roamed she made a mental tally of what must be done. Where more dusting must happen. What herbs might freshen the waters of the spring, should she be fortunate to find any.

She wandered to a storeroom to inspect the things gathered there and, collecting a few bits of tinder-dry spoils (which she meant to toss off the side of the palace). As soon as the bundle was ready and she had it in her teeth, she turned to go—and a nimble figure came dashing up the hallway, nearly colliding with her.

Ohmnn! She drops the bundle and it goes splintering like tufts of feather on the wind, rolling beneath the stranger's long, silent strides. Gil did not recognize them; but they were so quick! All she could discern in that flash of startled momentum was the ruby red of eyes.