Andraia enters Hlint from the East, she sees the home she sold #110, she recalls all the things she took to the pawnshop and sold, .. all her crafting tools, all her gathered components nearly everything she owned.
She is wearing some simple clothes she purchased from the local tailor, her platinum armor... sold, her boots, gone, All that remains is her Spear, her Goad (mini spear) her sheild and some assoreted jewlry. Everything else she sold or gave away.
She enters the main part of Hlint, as she reaches the smithy she feels something tug at her... drawing her inside. She does not resist and she enters. Inside it is hot, and stinky.... yet she takes in a deep breath as if she were standing in a field of Lillys. She walks over to the closet anvil and places her hands on the metal surface. She just stands there motionless for a few moments.
She stands upright and nods to some un spoken words. She walks out of the smithy and goes to the magic supply merchant, there she buys some things she wants. She grabs some arrows, food and water and some mining picks and she walks outside.
She kneels in the grass behind the building and quietly begins to pray. The wind circles around her and she seems to sway from side to side in the breeze just like the grass around her.
When her prayers are completed she stands up and begins to call upon her divine powers. Everything comes to her as naturally as it did before. She gathers her belongings and heads strait for Haven Mine. Inside the makes short work of what Ogres that get in her way. She reaches the Iron deposits below and gets to work. With each strike on the raw ore deposits she grins. She gathers as much Iron as she can handle and still walk out at a quick pace.
Upon entering Hlint she marches strait towards the smithy. She smelts her loot of Iron with ease and approaches the weapon anvil. She sets up to make her first strike on the orange hot Iron... and she looks to the sky.... She says in defiant words.
I am Andraia Benteel, Servant of Kithairien. This is the path I choose!
Her hammer lands on the iron with a satisfying clang. She continues to work the iron into a fine longsword. Sweat dripping from her body from all the work with the heated metals and forges ,she quenches the blade in water and holds it in front of her, very pleased with what her hands have once again created.
She leaves the smithy with a small bundle of swords and a smile from ear to ear.
