{M} The Simulacrum Prince; IC (F)

[Storm]

Having found a somewhat smaller inconspicuous table to sit, one of the large bosomed maidens made her way to where Su-Lin sat. A small tray with a small loaf of bread, a small assortment of fresh fruits and a small jug of water is placed upon her table. The woman spoke in a rather friendly tone

“With complements of the keeper. He extends his a most gracious offer if you desire. Your room coin will be returned, he can grant you free stay and meals, he only asks in return that you …. entertain… certain well paying guests.” The maiden runs her fingers softly along Su-Lin's well kept pony tail “Such soft hair, you most certainly would earn your keep dearie.”

Years ago she would have walked over to the brown haired man and slapped him in the face. Some towns such offers are more direct and persistent, some are more subtle, others are absent of such insults. She simply has grown immune to such offers. Her gentle tone and features go unchanged

“Please tell his lordship that such offer is kind of him yet I regrettable must turn down his generous offer.”

As the maiden returns to the inn keeper, she slides her dagger out from her sheath keeping the blade under the table shielded from view … just in the event that the keeper does not take her decline well. She watches as the keeper and maiden laugh heartily. Either he accepts declines from women well or the stranger (herself) was being toyed with. In either event, she (and the keeper) could live with this. Since this time her steel will not be coated with ones blood, she slides the dagger back in sheath and continues looking about those within the establishment.

Briefly her attention is drawn toward the cute male as he uses his finger to slice away at an apple. A smile forms on her lips finding this somewhat amusing. Obviously this was no ordinary man and should not be taken lightly should need ever arise for conflict. He however seems sweet enough.

There was then, the Elf. A rarity was it she would see one such as he within the company of others even though he seemed to keep to himself, she couldn’t help to pick up on his intense gaze toward the young girl also within the Inn. Though not gifted with magic, she could definitely sense what felt an unusual air disturbance as the rats fled the confines of this place in a non typical quick haste. To what extent was this one’s abilities she pondered. To what was the girl to him that seemed to captivate such a lone and obviously powerful being such as he. These thoughts filter through her mind as she pours water from a jug into a goblet.

Her attention was drawn toward the front of the Basilisk as the light of day filtered through the entrance as the outline of another female enters. As the entry door closes, she offers a polite nod toward the woman with short red hair whom just entered.

[Jinn]

Hunkered down in a very less than extravagant Inn was beginning to bore the hell of out of his ‘Royal Highness.’ And when he means less than extravagant, he means one of the most rundown and dusty rooms he has ever seen in his life. In fact, Grisha has never taken occupant to an Inn before (Though the food seemed to be great). So his first impression hasn’t been very exciting. And let’s not forget that he was not allowed, under no circumstances, to take a toe step outside of said room.

The boy plumped himself down onto one of the beds with a huge sigh and coughed lightly from the fairy dust shimmering in the rays of the sun. Oh how he wished he could just go out once for some fresh air. Shifting brown hair tilted as he moved his head to the side to stare out of the window longingly. Wasn’t his chaperon supposed to be back by now? At least he elevated the boredom just a tad.

“The wind is never meant to be restrained.” He spoke to himself loudly in slight irritation. Grisha’s body winked in and out of sight to sync with his mood. Frustration! Frustration! Frustration!! “You just had to get me into all this didn’t you? It’s all your fault. You idiot.” A conversation with himself? Maybe a fever was finally getting to him. Though he was sure a week confined in this small village, within a stupid snake and undoubtedly shady Inn, within a dirty room- would grind down on the mind.

His chaperon had taken new form as a man came into the bedroom without warning of subtly . He was simply in. This man was a grizzly, meaty, 5'10'' with a body so built he almost looked square. However he was older, the top of his hair baled from age, black hair turned into a salt and peeper appearance. His brows lowered, already naturally low and he took one look at the royal. He didn't look at Grisha with the same delicate, respectful, I need to kiss your ass look. He was a mean chaperon, a sturdy one at that.

His metal boot rapped on the floor. He saw the runt looking flustered.

"What's the matter? Is a bad poop stuck in you or something?"

Grisha nearly vanished in startlement, a brief breeze rising at the sudden appearance of the Rebel. Sitting up he frowned before rolling his eyes to show his displeasure. "Haha, very funny." He replied dryly and settled back into the bed. He liked the older male however. The rebel treated him like everyone else and it was refreshing. Grisha didn't have to keep up the princely facade as much around him. In other words he can pretty much relax.

"No, I am unhappy with the fact that I haven't been able to go outside and explore a bit. I've never been outside the kingdom. As far as I know anyways..." He frowned again with a furrow of his eyebrows to act in recollection. Of course he didn't know if the real Prince Desya did. He was sure he did and he could say he has, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Since well, he himself hasn't. Acting like he lost a good portion of his memories was much easier than he figured.

"But a certain old grump won't let me." He smirked with a teasing tone. No matter how much he begged, he doubted the other would let him. So Grisha would let it be for now. In fact, he had already planned on a midnight walk. He just couldn't wait as patiently as he had thought was all.

"Desya, the only way you're getting out of this room is when you need to put your princely, soft-skinned ass on the cold hard wood out the outhouse." George went on to rapping his foot. "Do you want your bathroom break or am I going to walk out of here and leave you here for another three hours?"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." He rolled off the bed and plucked his cloak from one of the chairs, throwing the hood over his head while following the man out the door. He'll never really get used to being called Desya.

Down the stairs they went and into the small shabby bar. Grey eyes glanced from underneath the shadows of his cover to assess the other customers. Since he couldn’t chat away with any one of them, discerning them by clothing was good enough. And, there was a few interesting ones. Anyways, out the back and straight to the unpleasant wood john. He scrunched his nose up at it, his attention drawn to the woods. Grisha would rather relieve himself there.

“I’ll be just a minute.” He spoke quickly, heading to the trees to do just that.

"Don't be too long or I'll know you're getting yourself into trouble" George grunted and turned around to let him be.

As soon as he was hidden well within the trees, Grisha unzipped and breathed a sigh of relief. Once done, he fixed himself back up and strolled out, saluting the man with his fingers. "No trouble here." he sang lightly and stepped on ahead. The rebel only grunted in return and trailed behind, escorting him back into the tavern.

[Liono]

Chapter One: The Things We Do Not Seek.
Chapter One: Stars that Twinkle Brightly in the Sky

Before long, many new people had entered the Basilisk, for various reasons.

"Haha! Did ya see that?!" The hearty laugh of the innkeeper bellowed throughout the Basilisk. The maid next to him had whispered something to the woman at the table, came back, and now was bursting into tears of laughter.

"Well I don't think that was very nice," Munii said with a frown.

"Oh, come on. We all need a bit of fun now and again," the innkeeper said before returning to converse with the maid.

"Come on, Geriah, let's go check our room," Munii said, walking up the stairs.

"No, no, no, no," Geriah said, feeling himself being pulled along with Munii. One of the worse parts about being attached to a person instead of being a free ghost is that wherever she went, he went as well. "I want to stay here."

"For what?" Munii asked, "You can't eat anything here." Geriah always joked about being ravenous for food ever since he died.

"Yes, I know, but I want to check something out."

"Fine..." Munii sighed, walking back onto the ground floor again. Geriah settled himself onto the wooden floor, moving towards the Elven man. If he was correct, the man should be able to see him, or at least notice him. Then, Geriah Caused a thing to happen. He knocked over a chair that was next to the Elf. It wasn't hit too hard, but just enough to have it lying on the ground in the aftermath.

[Minkasha]

A wandering spirit, his sandals stepping over stone of a green laden path. Left behind him, down this road were a series of mountains, the Peaks of Royal Trees. Seclusion, it was he could gain, give to himself these days. But, for all the niceties of Silva its mountain side was riddled with criminals, the excluded of this happy existence.

It walked through the path of tall evergreens, the shadows cast on his pale form and his robes through the branches changed and warped with the forward motion he slowly took. All he had wanted was seclusion, but he had to bathe Chiyo in gore among the rocks and grasses. An eternal life made to cut down those whose were fleeting. He did not want this, but he did so anyway, because that was the curse of his psyche, of his ways. To butcher and to kill with the impulse of violence compels him to grip the hilt of his beloved blade.

Seclusion was no longer possible in the Peaks of Royal Trees, bandits were surly going to find the bodies of their fellows, and seek more violence. It had to distance himself from the situation, returning to life among others, if only for a time. Rock paths were windy but kind to his feet, pounds of silver hair waved side to side just so as he dragged himself along. He had done so for hours, but felt no exhaustion. He had lost many sensations, the ones called negative, but they had all existed to once give the complete puzzle to what life was. Now he was left to be incomplete, of his own karma and the mercy of someone who loved him and loomed with him always.

Silva, he had been here on and off for a year. Whispers said his name among them was Ghost. As if he had become some village bound legend. In a way, he was their indirect protector, violence used to slew the ill-natured hidden in the mountains. But their sinful and exiled numbers were rapidly growing. It wasn’t looking for a path of blood, their deaths did not give him redemption. So he told himself every time after the slewing warpath, his remaining hand had other ambitions, always.

A tall spiked wooden fence kept the village safe, a place of prosperity where the two men standing guard by one of its two smaller side entrances were a Human and a tan complexioned Elf, Wood Elf. In their leather armor they saw It come closer gradually. It stared at them with red eyes that were poking through falling bangs of silver. He did not need them to cause him trouble. Let him be, let him through.

“I want entrance to the village” It said, his handsome tones of voice drowned in grief. His voice was what caused them to look at each other.

“Where do you hail from?” The Human of the two asked.

“The mountains” It said, they looked at each other again. He did not want another two souls reaped by his hand today. Let him be, let him through.

There was hesitation, but the guards knocked on the wooden cut out of a door in the fence, together. It was pulled out by three other guards and on the other side It was stared at with bewilderment and mouths opening in surprise.

It ignored them, entering into this prosperity, a village living off its eye catching, fey magic infused trees. A landlocked tourist attraction that still managed to bring many people of this world together to see how magically infused soil brought out a plethora of colors in the trees’ bark and leaves; even changing the patterns of leaves to grander appearance.

The robed warrior gave no man or woman mind, dragging himself through the rocky thoroughfare of the market. The shops also meant nothing to him. A compromise was made, seclusion sought in a private room. Perhaps then he would not be disturbed by the rowdy and dismissive.

He came into The Basilisk the wooden knobs of his sandals thudding heavily on the black wooden floor. His red eyes scanned, seeing a plethora of people. His eyes narrowed on a small, sensually shaped woman of red hair. Her tail caught his eye, knowing full well what genetic legacy spawned such a tail.

It spent over a decade running from his people, but here he saw one. If she had taken male shape, he would have cut her down. The Water Lands loved the living bodies of Fiendlings, in time that world was going to consume this one. He was certain. Chiyo would deny his acts, surly Chiyo would not see mercy in what he did, but him repeating the same mistake.

And so, she of his people was able to walk off. He had caught eye with a Human man who looked at his eyes, the woman’s backside, and him, trying to imply he had stared at her ass. It narrowed his red eyes, he was easily the tallest being in this building. It was persuasive enough to make the drunk shiver and return to laying his head back on his table. It glanced back at the sensual redheaded woman, the right side of his hip rattled and instinctively his left hand gripped the hilt. For a moment he felt Chiyo shake, though Chiyo was quick to still under his coiled touch. He felt a pang of sorrow pluck a piece of his heart as a young female face came into his mind.

That was only the third time in his undead life that Chiyo gave any acknowledgment of the outside world. What wisdom or path was his blade guiding him to? To do? To walk down?

It was to seek seclusion, though that evolved into seeking answers.

His smoldering eyes kept upon her, leaning himself against a corner and finding some comfort of the partial shadow as light failed to completely span to the corners.

[Sy23]

Early in his wanderings, immediately after his exile, the Slinker had (he felt, in retrospect) acted like a young warrior recently released from service. He had drunk himself senseless every night, spent most days sleeping or traveling,and at every stop had sought out the prettiest willing woman - usually some skanky tavern maid with lice in the seams of her much-patched dress and greasy hair - to slake his lusts.

These days, however, he had become circumspect. Rumors were abroad, of all kinds of things, and when humans got skittish, he knew, even what little sense they possessed tended to flee for the hills. They would turn upon anything the slightest bit unusual or weird, and he'd be a prime candidate.

Therefore, his current modus operandi had become his norm. The Slinker would select the quietest corner, stay hunched in his cloak as much as possible, and speak politely to the tavern staff without inviting further confidences. When his lust grew too great - and this was, after all, Slinker - he'd signal whoever might be available and reasonably clean looking with his dark, hypnotic eyes, escort her to a quiet place, and get rid of the accumulated need as briefly and quickly as possible. That the (as she thought) small silver coin he'd press into his partner's hand afterwards was later revealed to be a gold coin of such value she might work many months serving stews and drinks to earn meant little, for by then he;d be well away, too fast even for rumor to catch him.

Yes, this means of living had served him well, but, as he sat, drinking tankard after tankard of good wine, other thoughts came. The thought that, Eldar as he was, in some very real sense (and the Eldar are nothing if not real) the description no longer applied to him. He had been exiled, outcast, sent outside of his own. He was not human - he could never be that - yet he was, nonetheless, now simply a pathetic, homeless piece of flotsam, as much as any of the beaten, worn-down humans that shared the tavern with him, desperately attempting to forget their defeat by life in the warm comforts of alcohol, boasting, food and whatever cheap floozy might agree to pass an hour or so with them.

His life, he concluded was, in short, none fit for either elf or man, and could not go on forever. There had to be something he might do... a thing in which to believe, a cause to defend, a dream to chase... or what was he. What indeed?

These thoughts never lasted long, but while they did they dragged him down into the very depths. The melancholy of a dark elf is dark indeed, capable of rendering a verdant paradise into a desert if unchecked, and he forced himself to exercise every ounce of self-control he possessed. Already, the flowers on the wall-box beside him had wilted, and an empty tankard on the table beside him had began to turn to rust!

As he sat, and mused, he saw dimly through the corner of his sharp eyes a plump man stand up, hitch his breeches and square his shoulders in the manner of a man who thinks highly of himself, his charm and sexual prowess, and stride across the floor. The man staggered slightly, for he was full of ale, belched, and re-squared his shoulders.

He was heading, Slinker saw, for the slim-looking girl from the far continent, the one he'd marked down as a warrior. The girl had already been approached by one of the tavern maids, and a whispered conversation had taken place. Even ears as sharp as his hadn't been able to catch its import, but the look on the warrior-girl's face had said much. And anyway, he'd seen the tableau played out many times before - though usually, the girl thus approached had ended up in the landlord's bed, or that of one or more of the other customers, her belly full of free food and drink, her loins full of the man-spurt of some lucky male.

The oriental girl, though, had obviously refused the invitation, for she still sat at her table, minding her own business, and the drunk man was heading towards her, his eyes unfocused but shining.

The Slinker stood up and, so swiftly and silently he might have flitted through the aether by magic, interposed himself between the girl and her suitor.

"Friend, might I mention," he whispered, "that the girl upon whom you have so obviously set your heart appears to prefer her own company. If might suggest... rather than set yourself up for rejection and humiliation... you return to your table and enjoy the other excellent fare this establishment provides. For myself, I have a nearly full jug of the very best wine, which I'd gladly share."

The man scowled at him, his eyes wandering in their sockets, a blast of fetid breath (that Slinker in fact enjoyed, loving corruption as he did) wafting from his wart-strewn mouth as he replied.

"Ah? What? An' how's it yer business, freak? Ah... I sees it. Yeah. You wants her for yourself, I get." He pulled a blunt, yet wicked-looking knife from the folds of his sacking tunic. "Well, see, yous just stand off, and mind your own, or I might just teach yer some manners, see?"

"Please," Slinker replied softly. "I mean no challenge. It's just - I think the lady prefers to be left -"

The man growled. He had always fancied himself something of a fighter and beating up another man always gave him a buzz. To do so in front of the lady could not fail, he calculated, to impress her.

"Back off, strange thing!" he snarled. And when the Slinker made no move to comply, swung the blade through the air.

Had it connected, (and had the Slinker been human) the damage wrought might have been serious indeed. Instead, in the second or so the weapon took to slice through the air, it crumbled to rust, leaving the wielder with a ridiculous look on his face contemplating a handle, now bereft of any blade.

"Wha-a- you slime, That knife cost five silver coins." He adopted a fighting stance, snarling. "Put 'em up!"

The Slinker stood, making no attempt to adopt a stance of his own.

He stood. And he watched...

...as the man doubled up, like one taken suddenly with the worst, most virulent case of indigestion the four kingdoms had ever seen. Vomit and other nameless gunk issued from his mouth, he clutched his generous stomach, and there was a sound like a heraldric trumpet as his breeches became stained with liquid diarrhea. He fell, still clutching his belly, screaming in agony.

A reasonable reaction, given that every scrap of food in his belly had turned instantly rotten.

Stepping over him, the Slinker returned to his own table, passing the exotic-warrior girl's own table en route.

[Storm]

As she continued to sip at the goblet containing water and consume the various fruits and bread this keeper offered, she continued a watchful eye upon others within this venue. She would not feel insult toward the keepers vial offer as she may have all those many years ago by refusing the tokens this man offers, Were he to demand coin for such now that she will not *entertain* his patrons, she would provide twice the coin he may demand.

While in thought, her attention is drawn momentarily toward the staircase as several figures make their way down and outside the Inn. She would surmise that the one cloaked concealing their identity might be a thief of a tax collector for the way the figure concealed their features. She thought more on the possibility the mysterious cloaked figure more as a tax collector as he seemed to be in the company of a rather large brutish man, mayhaps his guardian or protector. They were absent a short time before returning, Su Lin would continue watching the mysterious stranger with his assumed guard.

As she resumed looking upon the young girl that seemed to be of interest to the Elf, she noted once again that the girl seemed to be speaking aloud to herself. The girl did not seem unkept not dirt on her clothing so dismissed the thought she might not be right in the head. Could this girl be speaking to some form of apparition only she could see, and yes, the Elf could sense? As the girl moves closer toward where the Elf sits, she quirks a brow as a chair at the Elf’s table falls to the side. There was no disturbance within the air, the girl did not make motion toward the chair in any fashion, yes, this girl must have some form of apparition with herself.

Once again the light of day illuminates the entrance of the Basilisk and another figure outlines the entrance. As this rather tall stranger enters, his radiant red eyes are most prominent. This man seems to have his attention drawn onto the red haired woman as he moved himself to a secluded area where he could keep intense focus upon the woman with red hair.

As speculation drifted through her mind as to the nature of this newest guest within the Tavern, her attention quickly focuses upon the rather stoutly man rising from the table he sits with several other equally stout males. The standing male seems to have his gaze in her direction as he adjusts himself taking several steps before belching. Though this man was too far for her to smell the odor of ale he was consuming, she was not unaware of these drunkards. The spirit of a simple grape fermented can cause man, woman or beast more darkness than any magical dark spell can. As the man sweay slightly before starting on his quest toward her table, she briefly looks upon the other two males at his table dearly wishing that the grape’s spirit does not cause her to shed their blood. She slides her dagger from her sheath once again laying it flat under the table which she sits out of view. As the male closes the distance between he and her table, she looks upon his features determining the fastest non lethal area she could strike, she after all does not desire causing one to see the afterlife over a tankard of ale.

Ever so slightly she is distracted by a crackling sound of the goblet she still grips with her free hand. Quickly glancing within she notices the water has crystallized to solid ice and the exterior of the goblet has a sheen of frost upon it. She sets the goblet upon the table, though she was trying to calmly surmise a non fatal encounter with the burly drunkard, inwardly she was angry toward this filthy thing desiring to drip his sweat upon her body, to gag her with his foul breath, to mayhaps even pass her between the others at his table. The grip tightens harder on her dagger mentally playing out gutting the swine as he is before herself, her sword removing the life from those sitting at the table that horrid excuse for a human comes from. The goblet now shatters to ice crystals. Unfortunately for the disgusting pig; he does not see such the warning.

Her brow quirks for the slightest moment. The Elf has stepped between the burly drunkard and herself. Yes, at times there are young men that would step between her and a drunk, usually with darker intentions than a drunk would have, yet this Elf stepping in front of the drunk was … unexpected. She watched with curiosity as the two exchange words, the Elf’s words soft for the drunkard’s ears alone and the drunkard… well… their words are never soft nor for a select few. She watches intently as the drunkard strikes at the Elf with a blade, which … and not as a surprise to her, turns to rust before contacting it’s target. The drunkard took up a typical fighting stance those foul men often do offering combat with the Elf. A soft smile graces her lips as the foolish drunkard relieved the content of his stomach upon the floor as well as defecating uncontrollably. Inwardly she momentarily thinks that her blade certainly could have spilled his stomach’s content on the floor too, though the groin to chest slash would have been harder to recover from.

She slides her dagger back in her sheath before becoming ready to grasp her short sword as the other two males from the table make way toward the third as he screams in agony on the floor. As the Elf steps over the downed man, the other two rush to the man’s side to offer him assistance out of the Basilisk. Her eyes remain now upon the Elf as he makes way past her table back to where he first sat. She did not take surprise as the Elf passed and not taking liberty of professing that she now owed him for his bravery as *pretty men* often would. Though his skin might not have lotions and creams upon them, his beauty lie inward.

She takes a moment to sweep off the crystallized ice fragments from the top of her table that once was the goblet before standing. She walks softly toward where the Elf now sits, the area immediately surrounding her is still a good 5 degrees (2.7 degrees Celsius) cooler than the remaining tavern as she is still seething inwardly about the thought of that disgusting drunkard this gentle soul dealt with, she lowers her head softly speaking

“M’Lord, I wish to express my gratitude for your chivalry displayed before that horrid man. I am known as Su-Lin, thank thee once again for such a rare gesture displayed in my aide.”

[Cfavano]

Melkor ate his oatmeal in silence. he was aware of the goings on of the tavern, but he typically kept out of other peoples' business unless they called for help. He saw the man go down, filth coming out of both ends, and he laughed inwardly. From what he saw, the man had it coming. It did somewhat reduced his appetite from the smell, but that would not stop him from eating his daily meal. One should not waste anything, and he wasn't about to start.

Taking a break from eating, he checked his coin pouch. he saw he still had some left, mayhap enough for a treat, such as a glass of milk or juice, or maybe some vegetable stir-fry. Or, he could actually rent himself a room. He finished eating, paid for his meal, and then he began to leave.

[Liono]

Chapter One: The Things We Do Not Seek.
Chapter One: Stars that Twinkle Brightly in the Sky

As soon as the man started to purge his digestive system of any food material, Munii went back upstairs. Geriah had no complaints. A maid came over with a mop, and another started to kick the man towards the doorway.

They stood in front of the door to their new room and opened it. Inside, Munii set down her bag, and sat on the bed. Geriah stood in the corner, deciding on what he should do tonight. Sleeping didn't do much for him, as he never got tired, and he wouldn't get a refreshed feeling. But it did help quicken the night. On the other hand, Geriah could explore and get intelligence, or just for fun, but Silva didn't look like it was filled with adventure.

Munii looked out the window, and saw a small little boy, seemingly homeless, in an alleyway. He had dirt all over his rags, and was noticeably skinny. He hadn't eaten well. Poor boy, Munii thought, Maybe I could get him some food, and a toy! Now that she thought about it, Munii did see a toy shop on her way here. So first she would get some food-an apple from the market-and a toy. Hopefully she had enough in her purse.

Munii went downstairs again, and stepping over the man, who's designated maid had pushed him a few feet closer to the entrance, pushed open the wooden door. Outside, Munii checked to see if the boy was still there, and went to the market. A new woman with red hair and brown eyes was there in place of the brown-haired shopkeeper.

"Um, one apple please," Munii asked.

"Oh, sorry Miss, but we're closed for today," the woman said apologetically, "We don't have any stock."

"But didn't you have fruit earlier?" Munii asked, remembering the ton of apples that had just been in that barrel earlier.

"Yes, we did, but suddenly it just disappeared. The shopkeeper earlier, Marty, I think it was, said someone just came up and all his food rotted away, just like that. But, when I came over here, the barrels were cleaned out, but I dunno what somebody would want with rotten produce."

Well that was a disappointment, Geriah thought. "Let's just go get that toy you wanted."

[Storm]

The Slinker did not even know exactly why he had intervened. Certainly, he'd had no conscious wish to show off in front of the exotic warrior, no matter how pretty she was.. .though, as he now saw her face in a good light, he saw she was pretty indeed. The nature of his race caused him, at times, to intervene when something weak was beset by something stronger, instinctively moving in to act as protector. And this, he realized, was what had happened, though not quite, perhaps, in the manner a casual observer might have supposed.

"Good lady Su-Lin, I am Liaskar Fea'rishaka Siagnisa Se Synea," he grinned. "Though why anyone of sense would waste good time giving tongue to that lot is a mystery indeed, since 'Slinker' is enough for the purpose of addressing me, and suits me better besides."

He gave the briefest glance at his recent victim, still crouched on the floor, whining in agony, as his friends attempted to assist him. "Though i fear you do me more honor than I deserve, thanking me for my intervention. 'twas not you I sought to protect - my judgement tells me such would be like taking jewels to Tamrat - or beauty to Ilara, for that matter - but the poor creature currently lying there regretting his actions." His glance flitted to the vessel, on which a few small shards of ice still floated - "My guess is a lady of the elements might have been less merciful towards him than I."

Her chocolate brown eyes still focused upon Slinker, her features unparsed toward he speaking of her being a lady of the elements though most whom come to gain this realization often learn of it at their peril or try to use her abilities to their gain. She crouches along the chair the apparition had previously caused to fall setting it now upright before delicately seating herself across from Slinker. Her tone soft, the air temperature surrounding her now back to normal for the room, a gentle smile shown

"M'Lord, be it I whom you sought to protect or the male laying on the floor of this establishment, rare is it that one would think of any other than their own affairs, for that is reason to speak words for your most gracious action Sir Slinker."

She casts her gaze back toward the man still wincing in addition to his comrades. She would not have desired do that man harm, yet Slinker's words do ring true, the man could possibly have met with her blade... worse though, could have met her sometime uncontrollable rage. She would try not think such unpleasant thoughts while casting a soft stare toward Slinker

"Please forgive my bold words Sire, might I understand what travel brings you to such a town as this?" still is curious if this Elf was familiar with the young girl and her apparition from earlier this day.

"Now that, fair Su-Lin, is a long question, the answer of which would bring slumber upon you as quickly as the entire contents of this innkeeper's cellar." he spread his hands. "Shrinking and corrupting it as best I might, I am an Eldar with no m'erque* - a despised outcast, stripes upon my back, and shunned even by my own kind. And if the Dark Ones shun you, there's not much lower you can fall." His eyes betrayed amusement, rather than shame. "Your reputation has already fallen like a dead leaf from a tree at the dawn of winter, simply being seen with me. Though... well, my instinct tells me you care little for that."
(Lit: "Heath" - essentially meaning "home" or "country" in this context.)

As Slinker speaks his words of being a shunned outcast, momentarily her mind drifts upon memories of her own family, a strong warrior whom fell in love with a mighty elemental witch ... her parents though tolerated ... more out of fear of the wrath her father would unleash on any whom might have thoughts of harm toward his wife, a mighty warrior in her own right, or his beloved daughter. Buried in her mind harbored the day word of her fathers death reached the village, she being told to flee the village she grew within, the dozen fell by her mothers hand before joining her beloved husband. The three whom lay in wait for her, their blood spilled upon the ground she knows she could never set foot upon again ... would this be for her safety ... or the safety of whom may try do her harm. The pained expression upon her face vanquishes as quickly as it was shown. Whom other than another outcast could hold understanding of her own thoughts. Her tone remains soft and pleasant

"M'Lord continues to gain the admiration of but a simple woman. Know sire, tho are not the only to walk the soil as an outcast. The flesh before you was bore from a forbidden relationship, one not of my fathers kind fell within his heart. My home is the air and soil for which I walk. Tis kind that one whom speaks of being outcast would hold concern for my reputation. I assure you this sire, I have nay reputation in which requires protection. Though our appearances may differ, you wisdom may exceed any I would gain in ten lifetimes, I freely can say that we both have walked the same soil we nay can claim as our home."

At her compliment, the Slinker laughed. "Wisdom? Beautiful one, trust me, I've never been accused of having that. Not even by myself. I confess, though, your story intrigues me. Why should a relationship that produces..." he nodded towards her " ...an offspring like yourself, be forbidden? My kind don't usually mix with the -" he broke off the somewhat racist term he had been about to speak "...those who dwell in the light, for obvious reasons. Yet I hear tell that a woman of the elements might take whom she likes. Or, perhaps, I pry too deeply?"

She offers a soft smile as Slinker mentions that a woman of the elements may take whom she ever may desire. The few she has shared her history with naturally presume that it was her mother whom was one with elements. She had picked up on his pause, softening his words so not to be offensive was again something which impressed her. Soft smile remaining, soothing was her tone

"M'Lord, common is the misperception thou speak of. Twas my father whom was powerful in mastery of nature and of all elements. My mother was on quest of exploration, a masterful warrior in her own as she happened upon the soil of my fathers domain. His people were fiercely protective of their purity with nature, he and my mother would often speak words to me that they despised each other upon first happenstance. The fire in her soul as well as his fierceness meshed as one over several moon rises. They became inseparable. I am the result of their union. I learned use of bow and blade in addition to becoming one with the land and air. His people feared what I was becoming, my mother also spoke that I would never be able to set foot on her birth soil as her own would cast me into a fiery pit. Tis true, women of the elements may chose which she desires as a mate..."

her tone softens more, eyes looking toward the floor for an ever brief moment "....yet I desire not to bring life into this soil for that precious life would have much pain and sorrow cast upon them while there is breath in their body." She then looks back up, clearing her mind of that she is troubled by ... usually in her dreams, a smile back on her face
"Please forgive a woman's ramblings M'Lord. We both have roads we have walked upon which were paved with the thistles of the thorniest of bush. Know I speak only true words sire, without falter it brings a warmth to my heart to have thy acquaintance."

"Feared what you were becoming," the Slinker mused. Just for a second, his face took on a genuinely serious tone, and melancholy dulled his sharp, dark eyes. A small flower, set in a vase on the adjoining table, wilted. "Yes, communities have a habit of doing such, don't they? But, sweet Su-Lin, I likewise feel the warmer for us having met."

He briefly touched his index fingers to the side of his forehead and lowered his head slightly, the sign of respect among all species of the Eldar. And one which the Dark Elves rarely gave at all, and then only in extreme circumstances.

Familiar with many customs, she is moved by such a rare gesture one of Slinker’s kind offer. With the interior being warm with the humidity of perspiration of others lingering within the air, something she is acutely attuned to notice, she thinks this is the ideal setting. She softly cups her hand over the center of the table for which they sit, underneath her cupped hand could be heard a crackling sound. As she intensely focuses upon her hand, she slowly lifts her hand displaying underneath a small crystallized ice rose. She softly gazes upon Slinker, her tone gentle

“Sire, please accept tis but small token of thy friendship. As with all possessions, this shall eventually fade away. This delicate tokes will melt back into nothingness quickly yet will it ever be truly gone?”

She reaches her hand to softly rest her hand along Slinkers cheek if he does not back away
“Though the physical may join the air quickly, thy eyes shalst store this token within thy mind forever.” She moves her hand to rest gently upon his chest… again if he does not back away “Tis small token also will find room in thee heart as memory of a humble woman whom you may consider friend as I consider thee of my friendship.”

She ever so gracefully slides her chair back standing offering a curtsy, tone soft and polite
“My friend, till our eyes next meet.”

The journey wearing away bringing a heaviness to her eyes, she turns and starts toward the stair case so as to go to her room for desired sleep. As she softly steps across the floor, the odorous burly drunk and now his two friends to his side are to her front. Sylvia spewing from his mouth as he barks out
“Ya are that tings…” pointing toward Slinker “…whore, arnt ya wench!”

Desiring not to cast a horrid image toward Slinker’s eyes after providing him such a delicate token of friendship, also realizing that it was more likely the spirit of the ale causing this disgusting pig before her to speak such vial words, she simply steps to his side passing by at the ready to decapitate this man should he press the issue. As she reaches the staircase, the pig still in a loud obnoxious tone
“Mark ma word wench, ya will squirm under me soon!”

Looking back, she takes sight of the filthy drunkard and his two accomplices now seem to have their attention focused upon the woman with short red hair as they now stagger toward her direction. As she continues up the stairs, softly shakes her head. Slinkers words resonate in her mind where he felt that she would be less forgiving of the burley drunk than he was. She offers herself a slight giggle thinking that those three would be in far less forgiving hands should they foolishly venture further as the red hair woman did not seem the soft sort, certainly the stranger with fiery red eyes who kept firm gaze toward the woman did not seem at all the forgiving sort.

At the top of the stair case she walks near silently down the wooden floor to her room. Unlocking and opening, she takes a moment to open her window allowing the fresh air outside dance through her room. She lay back in the bed and allows sleep embrace her.

[Kris]

Shani was one with the shadows and lurking from them was her trade of art. She was sitting by herself beside one of the far reached tables in a gloomy corner.

"Good lord!", said one of the ale ladies to the bartender, "That table was unoccupied just a minute ago!"

"What are you talking about woman?"

"Did you see that person enters?"

"Busy with the glasses…", he raised his head up, "Not bad on the eyes… Go over there, she might fetch some coins"

"That woman is a devil", said the young waitress noticing the tail coming out of the woman's back, "Not only that, how can one just enters without making a sound?? If I talk to her I'd be cursed!!"

"And if you don't you'd be fired, now off you go"

The young woman made her way for the red haired in the corner, shaking as she made small steps for her direction, "Hello", she tried to fake a smile, "Anything I can get you?"

Shanni sensed her and as she turned to look the woman felt herself being sucked into her gaze and green eyes. They burned with passion, curiosity… with hunger… The ale lady trembled, feeling like a locked animal in a cage. A moment of silence passed between the two where one lady scanned the other. When Shanni felt her curiously was satisfied she turned her gaze away again.

The hostess swallowed, "I'll leave you be… that….", she glanced quickly at the bartender. She didn't want to go back empty handed, but at the same time she wanted to keep away from this demonic tailed woman, "I mean… just… if you need anything… you know… I can"

Shanni nodded and the woman took off.

Once she left, Shanni allowed herself to be more aware of what was around her, giving her a chance to return a glace to the person looking at her.

For now she just stared... but in a way that looked as if her mind was in another place, which truth be it was. Getting used to be looked at gave her the ability to block those visions away. But should tension arise, she'd be more than willing to bite back.