Piper Farrhenway, a travelling songstress visiting Merridan.

A stagecoach rattled down an unpaved back road into Merridan, still far from the first sign of a settlement. Two dark horses cut through the morning mist, pulling a dark wood carriage with black curtains and a shade for the driver. The driver wore a black, wide-brimmed hat that shaded his eyes, a drooping mustache that covered most of his lower face, and a dark riding cloak that covered just about the rest of him. Overall, it was the type of carriage that one might expect to be ferrying a cadaver...

... However, itd have to be a very plucky, musical cadaver, for so early in the morning. As the driver did his job silently, the lone passenger in the small but elaborate carriage was trying out chords on her lute. Her key and her instrument were good, although she was clearly only practicing, and her only audience didn't seem much for music. "Ms. Piper Farrhenway, marm... We're olmost there now... Shall I go over once moar what you are expected to do to repay the fray ride you have been grunted, marm?"

The strumming from inside stopped... then, quickly, picked up in an improvised song.

"I'm told I've a head for a lyric,

Yay, only for writing a ditty;

But to retain directions so simple

I fancy myself least so witty~"

"Mmm... Eeeeeh," the driver gave a response like a mix between a grunt and a sigh. "Not much of a myusic-lover m'self, marm. Mind would ye repeat it in plain speech?"

The voice inside sighed, but with good humor. A woman poked her head through the portal between the carriage and the driver's seat. First to emerge was an orange-and-green decorative kerchief wrapped around her head, then tufts of her short, wild teal hair. As always, she had a dreamy look in her soft green eyes and an odd smile on her thin lips, the kind that could mean anything or nothing depending on the context... Although, a first glance, most would probably call it "smug." She was lightly tanned, but probably ordinarily fair, with a small scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She exuded a kind of resting joviality that was hard at odds with the nature of her driver. "Very well, spoil sport. I say I retain it easily. I am to find out what the lords and ladies of Merridan are up to these days, as there's some word of a most recent change in the town and its people that is of interest... to you, a random driver of no clear renown or station. Chiefly, you have a mind to the matters and manners of the people of cloth, aye?"

"Aye," the driver muttered gruffly, and remained silent for long enough to try and make clear he wasn't interested in chatting on it. "Send a missive out to me as soon as ye're able, no later than toneght. Then ye will have repaid yore debt, and I will huppily ferry you from Merridan as soon as ye wish to depurt."

"Spoil sport, if I may, where did you say you hailed from?" the traveler asked, tilting her head. "Yours is the oddest way of speaking I fancy I've found across any an alley I've alighted!"

"Didn't," the man answered in another grunt. "Actually, I speak most wull for where I'm from. Heh heh heh."

The passenger decided maybe it was better if she didn't get friendly with the driver after all and slipped back into the carriage... However, she was riding only long enough to pluck a single chord before the driver brought the carriage to an abrupt stop.

"End of the lane, marm. Ye walk the rest of the way."

"Ah ha ha! You pull my leg?" the voice inside the carriage asked.

Silence for a pause of a full twenty seconds. "No, marm."

The passenger sighed. After another short moment, she departed the carriage. The woman wore a mostly-orange cloak so elaborately decorated in patterns as to be called "fancy," while so obviously garish and tattered as to be out of consideration for any thief with pride. It was worn over a combination of a checkered vest, alternating sea and forest green, above a fantastically fringed ruffled white undershirt falling just below the waist and over lightly scuffed but otherwise expensive-looking grey slacks, which seemed to distinctly say "imitation royalty." In fact, this was her performer's garb, and the buttons open to cleavage as well as the tight fit of the slacks on her slender legs suggested she was someone who appreciated attention. She wore black, buckled boots and fingerless brown gloves as well as a variety of metal bangles, an overall hodge-podge of an outfit that seemed chosen solely to prevent anyone from tying down her origin. This was a point of pride for her, after all: Piper's go-to greeting was to rattle off all of the places she had traveled, and never to reveal where she was from. A well-used scabbard and its gaudy short sword, just large enough to no longer be called a dagger, rested at her hip. Slung over her back was a notably light rucksack, as well as the lute that was her tool of trade. With a good look at her, most could probably place her as having just turned twenty.

To laugh was second nature for Piper, but particularly so when the "free ride" she had been granted led her no further into town than the very outskirts. The mist was incredibly thick here, so much so that she could only just see the carriage she'd just stepped out of. Indeed, it seemed the driver and his horses refused to go any further... In all her visits to Merridan, Piper couldn't recall ever running into such a thick fog, nor such a notable lack of hospitality from a driver. She was just about to make a joke about it to her carriage driver, or maybe see if there was some other trade she could make for a full ride, when she realized the cart had already turned around and hastily beat a path the way it had come.

"Send a missive tonight, ma'arm! Send et to thus very spot and oi'll prepare ter meet et! By midnight!" His voice trailed off, then the clops of hooves... Then, her method of transportation was gone.

Piper's ordinary cheery smile twitched at the corners... However, even though she sometimes made smart-ass jokes or cynical ones, she was, by nature, an optimist. "Well, well! A merry march to Merridan it is, then! Going to get my good sellsword legs back, I am!" She got plenty of exercise, but she had an appetite for tasty, fatty things when she got her hands on some money, so while she used to be quite wiry as a girl, she'd since started filling out in places she told herself were cute to have a teensy-tiny bit of plumpness. In other words, she had a healthy look, but not the leg muscles one would hope for when tasked with walking from the outskirts of town and in on foot.

Piper hadn't returned to Merridan in quite a while, but her plan was the same as ever. Every once and a while, she would return to her quaint old stomping grounds where she'd been abandoned as a child and then adopted, she'd say hello to some friendly old faces ("It truly has been too long!"), and, most importantly, she'd share tales of her travels. From all over, Piper picked up tales of heroism and villainy, comedy and tragedy, fantastic legends and saucy limericks. The last among those, she noted, always turned a good crowd in Merridan. The people there seemed to hear any story of bodice-ripping romance or even a simple, naughty song... Frankly, she'd found that she could usually get enough money in tips for a drink just by singing the word "bum~" and then running if those moral-policing churchies came after her. "Ho ho! Those tightly-wound townies will be pleased as punch to see ol' Piper roll in! Only... I fancy I'll be footing rather than rolling, mhm."

... The young lady sighed. As much as she was trying to make it sound fun, walking the rest of the way to Merridan was really, really going to suck. If she stopped and rested, she wasn't sure she'd even make it in time to find out what that strange coachman had wanted... In that case, she could end up stuck in Merridan until she could toot her lute enough to earn a different way out. Luckily, she had an answer for this, and it was the same one she usually relied upon whether the situation called for it or not:

"A sooooong!~" she trilled into the air merrily, holding one hand to her breast and another to the air in spite of the lack of an audience. For Piper, a song would do more than just pass the time: she was practically a walking encyclopedia of enhancement magic, songs capable of boosting the capabilities of those she targeted. That included herself. By singing a certain song, she was sure she'd be able to reach town with relative ease. Now, the only question was which would make the trip most convenient...