Osiria: The Span of the Empire

It had been a month now since her return. A month since the wagon had brought her back to the nation she had left behind so abruptly several years before.

However, Osiria now found herself suffocated by the sweltering heat, as well as the constant stream of refugees and consumerism prevalent in Ul'dah.

"This city is hotter than Ifrit's asshole," she cursed.

Sand adhered itself to her sweat dampened fur faster than she could shake it off. However, she still believed her decision to re-commit herself to adventuring in Ul'dah had been the right one. Under the tutelage of Master Harmon, she had acquired the necessary skills to become a pugilist of moderate talent and means.

Osiria had relentlessly fought her way across the dunes, but now the cool ocean air called to her and she considered shucking Ul'dah for the rolling tide of Limsa Lominsa. She left a few necessities with Bash for safekeeping, donned her best knuckles and allowed herself to disappear into the aether.