The sound of metal clashing with metal preceded Morshore as she broke her way throigh the dense foliage of the jungle, sweat pouring down her face as her body roasted alive in her incredibly tough armour. Built for open fields, her inches thick armour covered her from head to toe in durable plates. Coupled with that and the chain,ail she wore underneath, she had to steady herself against a tree as the heat threatened to overwhelm her.
Reaching towards her helmet, she unclasps and tugs it off, revealing her scarred face and short cropped blonde hair, flushed from the humidity of the jungle. Grasping at her left hip, she eagerly tugs a waterskin from where it had been hanging and greedily drinks from the skin for a good few seconds, gasping as she dumped whatever was left over her head before re-clasping her visored helmet.
Stupid. It was stupid of her to enter the jungle in her armour. She had acknowledged the risks, but she had done it anyway. Underestimated just how hot the foliage made it. She needed to find her mark, and fast. After that, a break at that river she passed was due before she returned to get her pay.
Tittanna Ó Murchadha. The name of the target. She wasn't sure why the group needed her dead, but for four gold a day? She wasn't asking questions. Just wished that someone else had been sent. Even Grendel would have been better suited.
Straightening up, Morshore hefts her shield and spear once more. She had tracked Tittanna here, and the trail was fresh. She was nearby. All Morshore had to do now was find her...