As you try to make your way through the city, circling around the edge of a crowded square, a putrid stench assaults your nose. You see several passerby wrinkle their noses and retreat in disgust as a skinny hooded figure emerges from a back street with slow, measured steps. Covered in dirty, tattered rags, the figure - presumably a female, judging from her diminutive frame - slowly approaches you. Spare a coin for a poor soul, sir? She mutters a learned phrase in a hoarse, monotonous voice, her accent suggesting this is not her native tongue. As she outstretches her thin hand, a single fiery curl of disheveled hair escapes her hood, the sole spot of color in an otherwise drab and grimy appearance.

Hmmm... This human smells kinda nice and strong. Maybe he'll spare some coin for me? She cautiously moves closer, her gaze flickering between Shadot's eyes and the coin pouch at his belt. With a nervous giggle, she whispers, "Pretty please?"

Hmph... this human male smells strong and nice, almost like spice or herbs, but his pockets look empty too. Maybe he can spare something else instead? She tilts her head to the side curiously, eyeing Shadot up and down before deciding to try a different approach. With a small, shy smile, she whispers, "Or... maybe you know where I could find some food?"

Smiling weakly back at you, she slowly extends her hand and whispers, "I'm Cibia... It's nice to meet you..." Her fingers curl into a fist as if preparing to clutch something invisible. "Ah... I mean," she corrects herself with another nervous giggle, "I'm not here to make friends or anything. Just... looking for food or coin."

The homeless elf pauses, gaze drifting away for a moment before returning to meet your eyes again. "But if you... I mean," she stammers, seeming almost embarrassed now. "If you want to help me out by... sharing some of that food or coin you have, well... I wouldn't say no." A faint blush stains her pale cheeks as she finishes the sentence.

There's a moment of awkward silence as you consider her request. Cibia shifts her weight nervously from one foot to the other, twirling a lock of red hair around her finger as she watches you carefully. Finally, she clears her throat and adjusts her posture, trying to appear more confident and less desperate. "Well?" she asks quietly. "What do you say? Help an elf out?"

Oh... Well if you insist, human... She accepts a coin with a nod of thanks, pocketing it quickly before turning away to hide her grin of satisfaction. Then, more hesitantly, she glances back over her shoulder at Shadot and asks, "Um... What about that food thing?" She pauses, looking almost guilty for even asking. "I've been really hungry lately..."

Oh... Well if you insist, human... She accepts a coin with a nod of thanks, pocketing it quickly before turning away to hide her grin of satisfaction. Then, more hesitantly, she glances back over her shoulder at Shadot and asks, "Um... What about that food thing?" She pauses, looking almost guilty for even asking. "I've been really hungry lately..."

Cibia stands there for a moment longer, debating whether or not to make another request, before finally deciding against it. Her shoulders slump in defeat as she mutters under her breath, "Maybe next time." With that, the homeless elf turns and disappears back into the crowd, swallowed up by the bustling marketplace.

As you watch her leave, you can't help but feel a strange mixture of pity and guilt washing over you. This poor creature, forced to live on the streets with nothing but scraps to sustain her... It's heartbreaking, really. Yet there's also an edge of admiration for her resilience in not begging too heavily or being demanding about food or coin. Perhaps if things were different, you might have found a way to help her more substantially...

Shaking off the thoughts, you turn your attention back toward your own business in the marketplace, grateful that at least for now, you don't have to worry about such hardships.

I see that Shadot didn't have much to offer... Or maybe he doesn't want to help me too much... It's not surprising, really, given how humans treat elves these days. Oh well, I'll find other ways to survive. Maybe there are other humans out there who would be kinder and more willing to share their food or coin. Or perhaps I could try scavenging for something edible in the marketplace... Yes, that sounds like a good plan.

As she continues to navigate through the crowd, Cibia's eyes dart quickly from one stall to another, her nose twitching every now and then as she catches whiffs of various smells wafting by. Her stomach grumbles loudly at the scent of fresh bread and cooked meats, making it painfully obvious just how hungry she really is.

After a while of searching, Cibia spots what appears to be a fallen chunk of meat on the ground near one of the food vendor's carts. Her eyes light up with hope as she quickly rushes over and stoops down to pick it up. However, just as she's about to grab the meat, another figure lunges forward and snatches it away before she can react.

Cursing under her breath in Elvish, Cibia looks up to see a human boy grinning smugly at her from beneath a tattered hood. "You should learn to be quicker if you want someone else's leftovers," he taunts before taking off at a run through the crowd. Furious and embarrassed, Cibia stands up, glaring after him for several moments before forcing herself to turn away with a huff of frustration.

This is becoming too much! Why does everything have to

be so difficult? She clenches her fists tightly as she thinks about all of the times she's been humiliated and mistreated simply because of her race. Her stomach growls once more, reminding her that food is what she needs most right now. Perhaps there's a way to get back at the human boy who took her leftover meat... If only she knew where he was going or what his name was...

An idea begins to form in the back of her mind as she wanders through the marketplace, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. What if she could find a way to make herself useful to someone powerful or influential? That way, they might help her out in return, perhaps giving her food or even a place to stay. Of course, that would mean getting close enough to them without arousing their suspicion...

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of raucous laughter coming from a nearby tavern. Curious, Cibia peeks inside and sees a group of well-dressed humans enjoying themselves at a table near the window. One of them happens to be wearing an ornate gold pendant adorned with a crest she's seen before - it belongs to one of the wealthiest families in the city! Perhaps there's a chance she could approach them and offer her services...

Cibia takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as she enters the tavern. The smell of ale and roast meat fills her nostrils, making her stomach growl even louder than before. She weaves through the crowded room until she reaches the table where the wealthy humans are sitting. "Excuse me," she says in accented Common, "might I have a word with you?"

The group of men at the table exchange gl

They regard her with amused expressions, their gazes traveling up and down her ragged form as if she were some sort of insect to be studied under a microscope. One of them clears his throat before speaking. "Well now, look what the wind's blown in," he says, sounding rather pleased with himself. His companions snicker at the jest, though there's an unmistakable note of cruelty in their laughter.

Cibia swallows hard and tries not to let their mockery faze her. She pushes forward, mustering as much confidence as she can. "I was wondering," she says slowly, "if perhaps you might be in need of some... assistance." Her voice wavers slightly on the word, but she manages to keep it from sounding too desperate.

The wealthy man raises an eyebrow at her choice of words and leans back in his chair, studying her with interest. "And what kind of assistance would that be?" he asks cautiously. The others at the table lean in closer, seemingly drawn to the prospect of some cheap entertainment.

Cibia pauses for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. She takes a deep breath and decides on honesty, if only partially so. "Well," she says, hesitantly, "I'm rather good with my hands... I could be of service as a cook or a cleaner or..." Her voice trails off hopefully as she meets the man's gaze.

The man considers her offer for a moment before breaking into a smirk. "I see," he says, nodding slowly. "And what would you expect in return for your 'services', hmm?" His tone makes it clear that he is toying with her, enjoying the power dynamic between them

Her heart races and her hands shake at his condescending tone. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before answering calmly, "I'm not looking for much, sir. Just enough food and shelter to get by." Her gaze drops momentarily to the floor, unable to meet his eyes as she continues, "Times have been hard for elves since the war... We're forced to scrape by any way we can."

The man lets out a humorless laugh. "And you think that I, or anyone in this city, should feel sorry for your plight?" he asks harshly. His companions exchange knowing glances, chuckling under their breath at her naivety.

Cibia winces, suddenly aware of how poorly she's been received. "No," she says quickly, trying to salvage the situation. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought... with my skills..." She trails off lamely, her cheeks flushing with shame.

The man leans back in his chair once more, studying her with renewed interest. "What kind of skills are we talking about here?" he asks cautiously. There's a flicker of something else in his expression now - curiosity perhaps? Or maybe it's just the hope of finding an amusing diversion for the evening...

Tentatively, Cibia takes a step closer to the table, her voice barely above a whisper as she begins to elaborate on her abilities. She tells them about how her kind was known for their craftsmanship and their skill in magic; how she herself can manipulate fire and summon small animals; and of course, about how she can track prey through the woods like no other elf. As she speaks, a hint of pride creeps into her voice despite her current circumstances.

Hmm... that's quite interesting," the wealthy man says thoughtfully as he studies her. "Your skills certainly are impressive, even by elven standards." He looks around at his companions, who nod in agreement. There's a brief silence before one of them clears their throat and breaks it.

"Well, since you brought up the subject..." The man glances meaningfully at his fellow well-to-do human, "perhaps we could come to some sort of arrangement? I mean, someone with your talents might prove quite useful." He pauses, waiting for Cibia's reaction.

Her heart leaps as she hears the words she's been hoping for. Could it be that they're finally willing to help her out? Carefully, she meets each pair of eyes in turn before answering cautiously, "I would be honored to serve you, sir." She nods gravely, showing her gratitude for their consideration.

"Excellent," the wealthy man says with a smile. "Then consider yourself part of our little team. You'll have food and shelter provided, as well as any other necessities you might need." He raises his glass in a toast, and the others at the table join him, their laughter ringing out across the tavern.

For now, Cibia can forget about her hunger and cold. She's got work to do. And with any luck, she just might be able to make something of herself after all...