“…They’re late.” Iansif muttered to no one in particular. It wasn’t a huge issue, in and of itself- the sun’s position hadn’t shifted much yet, after all. No, the problem here was how suspicious this affair was in the first place.
With bounty hunting, finding work was a simple prospect. They were public contracts, after all, so paying a visit to a tavern or town square (district center, in Ovelta’s case) would give her all the foundation she needed to start gathering information. Sellsword work, though…that was a more interpersonal matter. Iansif had a handler, a friend she’d made back during her adventuring days; normally, she would be the one to hook her up with any jobs she could find.
Today, that wasn’t the case. The dark elf had received a posh letter not long ago, unsigned, yet requesting to meet with her at noon in some nondescript Oveltan alley over a potential job. Fishy as fishy came.
Yet here Iansif was, allowing the metaphorical bear trap’s jaws to snap shut around her regardless. This was an area she knew like the back of her hand, after all- much like the rest of Ovelta, at this point, aside from the highborn districts. If someone wanted to ambush her, all it meant was an easy payout for turning them in to the guards.
Thus, for now, she stood vigil with folded arms and an alert gaze. Her position had been carefully chosen: closer to the road than to the webway of twists and turns the alley became deeper in, but far enough from the entry to be able to react easily to anyone trying to attack from that direction. With her back leaning against the wall, Iansif’s position felt secure. It was simply a matter of seeing what fate had in store.
…She just hoped fate wouldn’t keep her waiting much longer. Standing around in full gear wasn’t the most surefire way to stay cool.
