Head for Gaest

She just couldn't bring herself to enter Woodsedge, and witness the carnage she knew to be buried among the rubble. It wasn't going to happen.

Going back to Namina was completely out of the question, as well. She had no idea where the Treant was, nor could she afford another entanglement with the necromancer's forces. Wyrd, while closer than Gaest, was also a poor choice. The military ran that city, a military which truly despised the Hunters there. Worse, the Hunters there were some of the most violent, sociopathic individuals the Hunters had ever allowed in. She'd much rather not visit there, especially in her current state of dress.

Speaking of that, Gaest was nearly a week and a half's walk out, and she didn't have the rations for it. Up near Woodsedge, near the gate, sat a shattered wagon, surrounded by debris. It looked like a supply wagon of some sorts. Clamping down on her stomach, which churned just thinking about going anywhere near the city, she approached the wagon.

About twenty minutes later, she approached the wagon, pointedly avoiding looking at anything but her feet and the wagon. The stench of ****, however, she couldn't blot out, no matter how hard she tried. However, she could see some foodstuffs scattered around the wagon, and what she could see from here suggested a good chunk of the wagon's body was fairly intact.

Just then, she heard a low growl, quickly joined by a few others, and she pulled her sword out, bringing it to a ready position, while taking a quick step back. A trio of wolves, slightly mangy and thin, came around the wagon, their growls turning to angry snarls. Realizing there was no way to avoid the fight, she braced herself, and all three wolves charged her, yapping and snarling as they came.

The first one leapt at her face, gleaming fangs bared, and she flicked her wrist, her sword impaling the beast's chest as it flew at her, and it's snarl turned to a wet hack as her sword reached it's hilt. A brief tug of her blade freed it from the wolf, as her danger sense prickled, and she spun, feeling claws hiss by millimeters from her leg, a ripping noise accompanying the motion. As she raised her arm to strike at that wolf, she senses the other one closing in from behind, and was **** to sidestep that one as well.

That dance continued for several minutes, Venus dodging blows, never quite able to get her blade into either of them, before one stumbled on some debris. Taking her opportunity, Venus twisted, her blade slashing cleanly through it's neck. The last wolf was summarily dispatched, and Venus stood there, chest heaving, wary for any other threats. A few quiet, watchful moments later, she determined she had dealt with any threats in the area, and she took a moment to check herself over for injury.

Shockingly enough, she had avoided any injury for the third time in the last thirty-six hours, something that she could only call a minor miracle. Her pants, however, had taken the brunt of the ****. They had been shredded by the claws and teeth of the wolves, and they were little more than tattered rags dangling from their waistband. She swore, a bit louder this time. Her clothes were so shredded, they were actually accentuating her nudity.

She stood there a moment, actually kind of pissed at the world, before carefully stepping back over to the wagon. Grasping the cover, she stuck her head in. Inside, she saw piles of foodstuffs, including salted meats suitable for long-distance journeys, and fresh waterskins. She took enough of both to give her two weeks of rations, allowing for the journey and a few days, just in case.

She continued to search through the wagon for a few minutes, hoping to find something else that might be useful. After digging through another pile of packaged meats, her hand brushed rough fabric. Digging a bit deeper, she grasped what felt a bundle, and pulled it out.

Shaking the bundle out, she finds herself holding a long, voluminous robe. It's well-worn, it's hems frayed, but more importantly, it's whole. As it unfurls, she hears some clattering at her feet. Looking down, she finds an equally battered pair of sandals.

Grinning happily, as though she had received precious gems, she quickly dons the robe, then steps into the sandals, which fit fairly well, considering she had found them. The robe is slightly loose, and a bit long, on her. It's previous owner had been several inches taller than her, as the waistbelt was actually around her hips, just above her mound. As the attempted to tie the waistbelt, she also realized he or she had been much more slender than her. She finally managed to cinch it down, tying it securely shut. There's a deep 'v' in the front of the robe, from her neck to the belt on her hips, leaving much of the insides of her breasts exposed. Another 'v' runs from just below the belt to the bottom of the robe, the last few inches of which dragged on the ground. Using the tip of her sword to form a small tear, she ripped approximately a foot a material off the bottom, to ensure she wouldn't trip over it. The rough fabric is slightly itchy, teasing her nipples as it shifts. She realized she would have to be careful as to how she moved and sat, as her nipples were just inside the edges of the material, and her pussy was just barely covered by the robe when she stood. It was still a far cry better than running around naked, though.

Fed, supplied, and clothed, she turned away from the massive destruction, and heads down the road towards Gaest. The road ahead is a long one, carrying her through the swampy lowlands. Bypassing them would add at least another week, a week her tormented soul won't allow her to take, so she decides to take the direct route. This route is hazardous at best. The roads aren't well maintained, in many places overrun or outright destroyed by the resurgence of nature. There are very few villages, spartan places where a few souls eke out a living by the limited fresh water sources. Those villages aren't known for welcoming outsiders. Various monsters lurk in the surroundings, ones which even experienced Hunters are wary to fight.

After three uneventful days, she draws near to the swamplands. The only thing she has had to deal with is the fact her nipples have been mercilessly teased by the robe for the last several days. The atmosphere has grown hot, humid, and stagnant, and the heavy material of her robe traps some of the muggy heat against her. The gaping 'v's, which annoyed her to no end, proved to have a small benefit, though, as they helped to keep at least some air circulating inside the robe.

As she hits the edge of the swamplands, she ponders her choices. Sticking to the roads and passing through the villages would enable her to keep supplied, and were safer considering the local monsters, but the villagers were another story. Bypassing the villages would enable her to avoid the villages, and the rather insular, vicious people who inhabited them, but would mean negotiating extremely hazardous terrain. Unstable ground, sinkholes, and deep, cloying mud would be the order of the day, never mind what monsters thrived in these treacherous parts.