Keeping her head low to avoid the worst of the smoke, Klynzahr crawls hastily after the departing Hyur, only to be brought up short as they crash into Max. Frustrated, she opens mouth to explain why they should not be standing, with their heads in the smoke. Unfortunately the only words that come out are "Down... git.... dammit" followed by a long string of coughing.
The sharp taste of blood, smoke, and burnt clothing sends a wave of unpleasant memories over the Klynzahr. For a moment she hesitates, listening to the trio of steps bumble further into the inn, while she struggles to catch her breath in the thick air. Then Kestlona's voice from behind another table, spurs her back into motion.
The layout of the quicksand has changed little in the past year and Klynzahr's memory serves her well. Navigating primarily by instinct and feel, she crawls back around the room to the double doors that she had entered through. Moments later, onlookers in the street would witness the doors of the quicksand thrown open, allowing a billowing curtain of smoke to escape. To the casual eye, it could easily be assumed that the inn was on fire.
Klynzahr staggers out of the smog, still choking for air. Blood from her broken nose has now covered most of her lower face, dripping slowly from her chin to the bronze chain shirt she's wearing. Blindly the Roegadyn fumbles open satchel at her waist, removing out a scrap of cotton and a pair of battered walking sandals. She clamps the cloth over her streaming nose, while the sandals are kicked under each open door to help the smoke dissipate.
The sharp taste of blood, smoke, and burnt clothing sends a wave of unpleasant memories over the Klynzahr. For a moment she hesitates, listening to the trio of steps bumble further into the inn, while she struggles to catch her breath in the thick air. Then Kestlona's voice from behind another table, spurs her back into motion.
The layout of the quicksand has changed little in the past year and Klynzahr's memory serves her well. Navigating primarily by instinct and feel, she crawls back around the room to the double doors that she had entered through. Moments later, onlookers in the street would witness the doors of the quicksand thrown open, allowing a billowing curtain of smoke to escape. To the casual eye, it could easily be assumed that the inn was on fire.
Klynzahr staggers out of the smog, still choking for air. Blood from her broken nose has now covered most of her lower face, dripping slowly from her chin to the bronze chain shirt she's wearing. Blindly the Roegadyn fumbles open satchel at her waist, removing out a scrap of cotton and a pair of battered walking sandals. She clamps the cloth over her streaming nose, while the sandals are kicked under each open door to help the smoke dissipate.
