{M} The Simulacrum Prince; IC (F)

[Woodrat]

Alwyn sighed slightly, as he watched the last of the wagons disappear from view.

His father was going to go spare.

With a small pivot of the heel Alwyn walked back into town with his eyes focused on the path ahead of him, a polite nod toward a couple guards as he reentered the village.

He was supposed to be on the lead wagon that had just left, their wooden hulls filled with lumber, grain, and other miscellaneous goods that cities and towns could not live without, or at least not live well without. That was his job, to escort and guard what his father called “the lifeblood” of a kingdom. This lifeblood consisting of raw materials, goods, messages, passengers, as it went from town to town. It was a decent enough job, got him from behind a desk looking at figures in a ledger. He got to go to exotic foreign lands in some cases, meet new and interesting people who thankfully more often than not did not want to kill him. In all those adventures of a sort he was always surrounded by friends and co-workers. People that he could rely on to have his back if things went awry. However he was always shackled to where the trade was, going where he was needed, not necessarily where he wanted.

Instead he had decided to take a small, break, telling the caravan master that he’d make his own way home in a few days time. Oh his father was going to be furious when he found out. But that was a few days time at least, hurray for small rebellions.

Now he was able to chose his own path, and completely alone.

'Totally not intimidating at all.' Alwyn thought as he pulled his soft faded green cloak closer around his short frame as if it was a shield to protect himself.

With a side to side motion of his head he looked up at the sign above the door of the building his feet had led him to.

The Basilisk

Well if he was going to be alone he might as well have a room for the night to plot where he was going to go next. With a small motion he brushed his reddish brown hair out of his face, adjusted his rucksack and stepped inside.

[Zirra]

Somewhere in some dark, foresty place, a shadow lurked. Bright eyes gleamed silver and white fur flashed like a flag, and yet somehow, the creature managed to stay hidden. It trotted silently on massive pawpads of silk, each step silently falling on the leaf-laden ground, and with each said step, it's pace increased. Not full speed yet, but not a simple trot, either, the beast seemed to be going somewhere, and with a purpose in mind. Indeed, this would seem so to anyone other than the snowy wolf himself. In reality, he had no goals or any places he wished to be - he was simply wandering, split off from his family of his own accord. He had been wandering like this for about a week, now, stopping at little taverns here and there when a warm bed was desired, but even then he preferred to live off the land as his ancestors had. He had't eaten in days, though, and contemplated approaching civilization. He was at the edge of some sort of town, now, circling it and studying it's inhabitants. Nervous when it came to revealing himself, Deaxsis hardly ever came out into the open or revealed his lycanthy to anyone, and he had a good reason to. His father had made that mistake and had been killed, thanks to it. "No thanks." Axis thought bitterly, gleaming white teeth bared in a slight growl. "I'd rather not die, quite yet." And yet he was temped... Tempted to approach the people, tempted to spend what little coin he had on selfish pleasures such as new clothes and a nice warm bath. His current clothes were ripped, tattered, and blood-stained, the leather hardly covering anything other than the basics, and he knew quite well that he would soon need to change. So, the current dilemma was to approach the town, or to stand back and just fare with the few things he could find.

Sighing, the werewolf of pure snow rose on hind legs, a clawed paw-like hand of sorts trailing through shaggy, un-kept neck fur. Blue eyes narrowed in defeat as his more civilized, proud side took over, seeming to take control of his mind. "There's no point in staying filthy and sore if there are means to which you can get clean." It thought, and his large ears flicked backwards. It was no use denying this part of him what it wanted, Deaxsis thought, noting bitterly that if it was happy, he would be, too.

His eyes fell down to his clothes, then. If you could even call them that, anyway. They were basically non-existent, and if he changed into his human form, he'd only be even more naked. "Reveal myself, it is." Deaxsis thought, equally as bitter as before, blowing a breath through his nostrils. This land was filled with mythological creatures, right? Surely, he'd be no worse than anything else they'd see. Hopefully.

Hope was a word Deaxsis no longer took seriously. It was a fake word, just as fake as he'd once thought leprechauns to be. The brute couldn't help but let out a snort at this thought, his blue eyes rolling at his own minds' choice of words. "Well." He muttered aloud, his deep voice ringing in his chest with an odd roughness that hinted to a lack of speaking. "I suppose it's no use standing here waiting. If I wait much longer, it'll be too late to do anything." He continued, stepping forwards so his tall frame headed towards the town. If people looked at him funny, he'd simply reply with a small growl, and if they said anything, he just wouldn't reply. This was what passed through his mind as he opened the door to a bar of sorts, eager to get something real to eat.

[Liono]

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

They entered the Toy Shop.

Inside, shelves lined the walls, filled with children's toys, little bundles of fun for every kind of small person. Dolls of white fabric as their skin, tiny black eyes that always seemed to stare at you, little dresses of an assortment of colors filled a part of the wall. Tiny wooden horses sat on another, their carving obviously the work of an experienced craftsman. Small figurines of knights and ladies, painted with the most careful artist of all the land stood, their bodies looking like they were guarding something, though it was just a wall behind them.

"Hello! Welcome to the shop," a man with deep black hair and sharp yellow eyes called to them. "What can I get you?"

"Oh, I don't know, there are so many here..." Munii said pondering, "Which do you think, Mister..."

"Just call me S.F," the man said, a small grin appearing on his face. "It depends, is it a boy or a girl?" S.F asked.

"A boy," Munii answered.

"Well, maybe he would like this horse," S.F said, handing them a small figure of a pony, painted white. "Or maybe this would be better?" He held up a tiny, yellow ball.

"I'll take the horse," Munii said.

"Good, that'll be this much..." Munii paid the shopkeeper, but before moving on, she saw something in the corner of her eye. A small, pale girl was there, fiddling with her dolls. Sat on the floor, she looked up and waved at Munii with a sad smile on her face. Wait, Geriah thought, That's another spirit like me! Geriah started to walk over to the girl, but before he could take two steps, the spirit stood up and walked away into the wall.

Outside, Munii looked for the boy everywhere she went, but she couldn't find him anywhere. He was gone. "Oh, well..." She put the horse on the ground where the boy was earlier, hoping he would find it when he came back.

[Sy23]

It was the best present the Slinker had ever received.

To say this, however, would be to damn it with faint praise indeed. Like saying that Sol is the best sun Earth has, or that the legendary solitary phoenix is the prettiest of her kind. For, in truth, it was the only such token he had ever been given. The Dark Eldar did not go in for the exchanging of gifts, and since he had been on the road, there had been little opportunity for such. The "overpayments" he gave whores, out of sympathy and charity he did not count.

Were the Slinker honest with himself (and it was a core part of his character that he could never be anything but) he had to confess to an unfamiliar feeling. It was at once uncomfortable and ecstatic, disconcerting and satisfying, ice-cold and beautifully warm. He stared at the small crystal flower for some time. It could never wither, never age, never grow. It was incorruptible, frozen in eternity, a thing that the Dark Elves could no more comprehend than an eagle might understand a saddle, or a worm hobnail boots.

The feeling it caused was even less understandable. yet, somehow, he... liked it.

he had half hoped the drunks might have continued to harass the elven girl, for he knew she was in no danger from them, and the interaction might have delayed her. Yet, they had enough sense at least to allow her on her way. He also wondered if they might return to him and seek revenge, but in this regard, too, they had at least the sense they were born with, and contented themselves with sitting at their table muttering.

Looking around the tavern, he caught sight of the red headed creature with the tail. The tail intrigued him, for though he'd seen hybrids before (there is not much a Dark Elf hasn't seen) they were usually grotesque, misshapen and revolting. This creature was anything but. In fact, with the tail tucked away, as it was now, she looked just like a somewhat attractive human.

Scratch that. A very attractive human indeed.

The way the ale girl had approached her had told him volumes. She was one of those female warriors who, simply by their gaze, could freeze lesser women (or even men) into immobility. Appropriate enough, he decided, for the customer of an inn called The Basilisk. It had been no surprise that the drunks had approached the elf girl rather than her... Su-Lin, formidable as she was, did not actually look fierce. Whereas this girl...

When the ale girl approached him (having taken a moment to compose herself... and, truth be told, smoothed her skirts and patted at her hair... he ordered another jug of wine and, on impulse, tossed the girl a coin twice the value he had originally intended. Whispering, he instructed her to take the red-headed girl with the tail whatever she craved.

"And if you're frightened of her," he added, "blame whatever angers her on me. Tell her I insisted you take it to her."

A few seconds later the ale girl, trembling in every limb and barely able to balance the shaking tray, made her way towards where Shanni sat.

[Storm]

As the three burley drunkards cast their oversized arses upon chairs surrounding their original table, the liquid spew from the more boisterous of the lot and which had the displeasure of striking an attack upon Slinker earlier, continues to chaff upon the brutes skin much as a rodent would gnaw away at a wall. The odor ferments about this man till such time even to the other two drunkards it casts offense.

“Daym it Eyrle, ya needs ta really go and change ya britches. Ya are worse dan da swine pen on da hardst o summer days.” the drunk who was speaking doing so with a look of disgust upon the other.

The soiled drunkard rises from his seat, clothing chaffing more redness upon his skin, his voice booming with intent for his table mates yet near echos through the confines of the tavern

“Mark ma word lad, dat winch will squirm unders me pon ma return!” also casting a glazed stare in Slinkers direction "...an dat freak will meet wit ma axe!"

With that, the stocky odorous drunkard staggers toward and outside The Basilisk. The burley drunkard makes his way down the middle of the paved way shoving an elderly gent to the side, his echoing tone booming
“Make way haggard arse…”

The elderly gent now dust covered having tumbled several times looks toward Eyrle with distain coughing
“One day I tells ya…”

A soft breeze swirls through Su-Lin’s room as her eyes stir upon sound from outside her window. She rises and walks softly to her window so as to close the window. As she casts her sight upon the horrid man from previous whom the kindly Elf selflessly intervened on her behalf, her soft chocolate eyes narrow as the brutish man shoves yet another, an elderly woman, to the side. She looks up toward the bright blue sky with the sun shining down, she steps away not desiring to cause this beautiful day disrupted by creating dark clouds which would corrupt the blue sky. As she steps along her bed, she crouches looking into her quiver selecting a well balanced arrow while also sliding her bow from under the bed. She returns to the open window casting her sight upon that foul beast making way up the street causing the normal disruptions one of his nature typically do. Her cheeks are hot as her anger boils, despite her not desiring to destroy the open blue of the sky, there is some darkening clouds forming just over the Basilisk. Softly she mutters more to herself ‘no…’ having come to realize the swirling darkness within the clouds overhead. Just as quickly as the clouds darken, they dissipate back to clear blue while she rests the arrow upon bow tautly drawn back. The color of her eyes now a brilliant white focuses upon the beast just outside typical archery range. Her focus purely upon that horrid man, her mouth drawn back in a snarl to the point her nose wrinkles as she releases the arrow. The arrow speed enhanced as a strong blast of air increases speed.

The burley man has his arm cocked back ready to crash down upon another to be victim has a sudden pained look flash across his face as he staggers forward a pace. The lad that was about to receive the fist crashing into his youthful body notices an arrow head protrude from the brutish man’s chest as the beast staggers forward falling face down into the street, arrow resting in his back, the street drinking his blood as it flows onto the dryness of the ground below. As the arrow head ruptured his heart, the brute lay dead in the dusty street. A woman steps toward the body raising her head spitting to the dead

“Finally ya rattld da wrong tree…”

Su Lin could not hear the conversations yet could tell by the way passers kicked at the body that there would not likely be a magistrate inquiry into this man’s demise. Her eyes fade back to chocolate brown as she replaces her bow under her bed. She runs her hand along her neatly kept ponytail and adjusts her clothing before placing a small amount of aloe plant extract in her hands rubbing the cream in to keep her hands soft and moist. She removes a circular brilliantly polished gemstone (mirror concept) gazing upon her reflection ensuring her appearance is presentable; after all, she is a lady. Not a moments mind is paid to the thought of that evil being she just returned to nature.

She walks to her door stepping back out walking quietly down the hall and starts down the stairs gracefully. As she reaches the bottom she casts her gaze upon those old and new assembled. She does take time to locate her friend offering a lady like curtsy in Slinkers direction before making way toward an unoccupied table yet one of the remaining drunks steps in her way
“Lass.. know ya shal belong ta our mate pon his return…”

She looks softly upon the man, tone soft and gentle
“Then I pray he be of better mind upon his return dear man.” as she steps to the side. She has already a mindset the other two are but pawns to the horrid man whom she returned to nature. As she walks toward her intended table, hand by her dagger should she have the wrong mindset, the other returns to his table to await Eyrle’s return. One of the drunkards pounds his fist upon the table bellowing
"Me pint is dry, fill it ya worthless wench" directed at a maiden

Su Lin continues to locate an empty table taking a seat looking upon the occupants of the tavern as one of the maidens brings her a small goblet of water.

[Kris]

There was a moment of silence when both the ale-lady and Shanni looked at each other as the last was holding a bottle in her hand. Once again she waitress felt that disturbing glances as cold sweat ran down her nape with shivers passing down her clothing. She was once again an object to this demonic fiend lady who was studying her from head to toe.

She sighed in relief when she grew bored and looked away, "I didn't order anything... Leave me be".

Something woke within the hostess as she squeezed her fists and mastered all her courage to slam down the drink on the table. Was it because of how easily she was dismissed, or because it was the tune in which she was told to leave? She wasn't sure herself, but the waitress felt the need to let Shanni know she was not to be toyed with.

"Well apparently someone thought against it", she swallowed and tried her best to keep her standing sure and steady. She was not going to show any weakness. Tail or not, that girl can still bleed if stabbed, and the waitress was furious enough to give it a try.

Shanni looked around slowly. She blinked once at the waitress, then quickly scanned her surroundings, "Who?", she asked.

The waitress looked back at the dark elf at the corner and Shanni didn't need any further input to realize it was him. She looked again at the waitress as she stood up slowly leaving 2 silver coins at the table, "Never let someone buy you a drink unless you are sure of their intentions... and willing...".

Shanni was puzzled. Her mission just started and someone was coming for her? But why? It was high time to pay that person a visit.

***

"Did the goblin sent you?", Her voice hissed at his ears. It was somewhat sweet and alluring, but it indeed startled him. He never saw her coming. He might have smelled her or somehow sensed her, as those dark elves usually do, but he sure looked surprised. Maybe he just played into it?

Whatever it was, she didn't even gave him a chance to speak and before long she set beside him, placing the bottle he so kindly bought her, "I know he doesn't usually work with elves, but I guess the situation has changed?"

She placed two glasses for him and her and started to pour, "I paid for this. It was kind of you but I know presents don't come off cheap.... So... Any news?"

[Cfavano]

Melkor was about to leave, when he saw one of the bottles behind the bar. It was rice wine, the markings indicate that it was made by his brothers in the monastery. While he typically eschews alcohol, whenever he finds a bottle of this specific variety, he tries to drink at least some. Going over to the bar, he places a coin and orders a tumbler of it. He sips it slowly, and, as usual, it burns all the way down. 'Liquid fire' indeed, as it is called. The bottle was old, and mostly full. Either it just recently got there, or not a lot of people like it.

At that moment, the doors opened, and a group of armed men came in. Melkor spared them a look. By the poor quality of their weapons and gear, they were either militia or bandits, and considering they looked shabby themselves, it was most likely the latter. Melkor goes back to his drink as one, likely their leader walks up to the stool Melkor is sitting at. "Hey, that's my seat." Melkor ignores him as the man gets more irritated. He kicks the stool out from under Melkor, and Melkor catches himself with his foot, still looking like he was sitting, but keeping himself up only with his foot. The man finally loses it. "That's it weirdo, I'm taking you outside!" He touched Melkor's shoulder and, in a flash, Melkor splashed him in the face with his drink, and spun as his other hand ignited and he touched the Bandit's face instantly igniting it, and then, with his foot, tripped the man and, as he hit the ground screaming, stomped on his head hard enough to crush it.

For a moment, the entire bar would stare in shocked silence. Then, the sound of breaking glass signified total bedlam as the floor erupted into a brawl. Melkor fought through the crowd, pulping skulls with his bare hands, and even put his fist through a man's chest. With every strike, so falls another bandit or fighter, as he makes his way toward the exit.

[Woodrat]

Of course it went badly.

One moment he had been talking to the barkeep, paying for a room. Next moment a dumb arse foreign monk had decided to light a person on fire and kill them. Now the dead man’s mates had gotten involved and fists and other miscellaneous objects commonly associated with a tavern brawl were flying and the powder keg was in full explosion. Of course it couldn’t have waited until Alwyn was a floor above, or better in fact still outside the doorway. Nor could it of been a simple fight, someone had to die and now things were going to get bloody and messy.

Quickly skimming the crowd with his eyes, Alwyn tried to take stock of the situation. Trying to get to the door was not in the cards for him. For one it was on the other side of the fight now in full swing. For two the bloody stupid monk was headed toward it like a ship in the middle of a storm. Vetoing that option he skimmed his eyes across toward the people in the room. For the most part the brawl consisted of what one would normally find in this affair. However there were a few people that stood out along the edge. Bright red haired lass toward the far corner along with a dark elf, want to avoid both of them. Close to them was a smaller lady sitting by herself next to an empty table, quietly watching the brawl. Someone would be dumb enough to take a swing at her. Much closer than those three was a big guy with a grudge making his way toward counter. The stairway to the next floor was still clear aside from a couple barmaids who had taken refuge there. Simple plan, avoid the fight take the stairs go out the top and come back in when everyone was done trying to flatting someone else’s nose to a pulp. That was if the building was still standing when all was said and done. It was at that point Alwyn became distinctly aware of a large meaty hand as it reached down toward his shoulder.

Oh right, big guy with a grudge. Alwyn looked the part of an easy mark with his ill-fitting armor and youthful looks. This was a drunk reeking of cheap rum that wanted a punching bag that was not going to give much resistance before he worked himself up to someone bigger.

Well sod that.

With a light twist Alwyn dodged the giant’s hand and ducked in close before he brought his knee up sharply into the body of the drunkard. There was a grunt from the drunk as his eyes crossed. A piece of him that was very private and only of interest to him and any lady friends he might have was suddenly a exploding ball of pain. Before the man could rectify the situation and turn Alwyn into a reddish smear across the wooden planks Alwyn balled a fist and swung upwards, striking the man with an awkward but solid uppercut across the jaw that jerked the man’s head back.

With a small groan the man teetered for a moment before toppling back, revealing an empty space before him. Alwyn was already making a beeline for the stairs, dodging anyone that got in his way and massaging a rather sore hand as he fled.

[Storm]

As she sat at her table sipping some water from the goblet, she kept focus upon the new arrivals to the tavern bearing arms. Their unkempt clothing and mussed faces she surmised they to be weary travelers or mayhap bandits. They appeared to take interest in the cute man at the bar. As one struck the stool which the cute man sat upon, she noted the man did not fall upon the floor. A tingle of concern drew upon her as she continued to watch to the point where the cute man threw a liquid onto his person. Fully realizing what was about to transpire, she focused all her attention upon the man now coated in liquid, a lifetime of practice gives her this ability yet not to the extent her father had, she corrupts the air surrounding the first just as the cute man sets flame. As the other screams out in pain, she intensifies the air about the man on flames now offering protection from the flame though he still screams, now more out of panic as the flames will still be visible to his eyes, at most he would come through this with what appears to be a moderate sunburn. Keeping focus while expanding the protective air further from the man’s body, she is caught a surprise as the cute man trips the other to the floor, this shall cause more difficulty in keeping the protective air about the downed man.


As with the others within the tavern, her heart sinks as a gasp of horror escapes her lips watching as the cute man raises his foot before stomping downward crushing the life out of the downed man… over a BAR STOOL. As the realization resonates through the tavern, the crashing of several ale pints breaks the shocked silence while she keeps strong focus upon the air about the deceased body. She has more blood on her hands than many may believe, yet this act brings pain to even her heart. As a full brawl erupts, she is finally able to dissipate the air to the point the flames extinguish, her eyes cast toward the cute man making way for the doors and outside. Her anguish increases immensely as she watches in disbelief as the cute man continues to unnecessarily take lives upon his retreat.


The pain must however be set to a side for there is untold danger for those whom are within the grasp of the spirit their consumed ale brings out within themselves. Normal is it for such drunken displays of battle be found within any tavern, yet this shall be so different. She has worry that one possessed by the ale might happen upon the tall figure with fiery red eyes, mayhap the woman with red hair or even her dear friend Slinker. She is certain as the sun beams down upon the street outside that one would be of a bad outcome should one foolishly take fist combat to one of those.


She gently closes her eyes allowing the air, heat, perspiration and other elements within the tavern touch upon her mind. As she opens her eyes, they are a pure white color as she looks upon where the main fist conflict transpires. Being of pure concentration, she corrupts the air within that close confine, those within that close confined space would take notice of an immediate 15 degree (8.33 degree Celsius) drop in the temperature, she would then release the concentration quickly bringing the temperature back to the original. This would not cause harm to any of those in fist combat, merely bringing a sudden chill to their persons, her desire was that such would release the grip the ale and anger within so they might cease such senseless hostilities before such time their acts bring displeasure to others eyes. She is of full realization that the others she has concern over might take a more painful resolve to ceasing this violence.


Her eyes slowly fade back to a soft chocolate brown casting a gaze in her friends direction. Though they may both be outcasts from the soil from which they were created, he may not have clear skin as the cute man did, his soul she was certain was far more pure than the cute man. Still a little weak from such concentration, she could not allow the poor man, bandit or not, simply lay against the floor of this place. She would stand from her table removing a delicate cloth usually reserved for dabbing perspiration from her own forehead during journeys as well as carrying her water goblet, she makes way toward where the first deceased man lay, those with any sense would not step within her path. She would crouch next to the man pouring water upon her cloth and begin cleaning the soil from his face softly whispering

“Nature hast you within her loving grasp, please look upon all from the air and watch over those within need”


Even upon times she finds the need to remove a life, would the environment permit, she sends the bodies spirit to be one with nature with similar words. Still with a pain in her chest, rests her hand on the deceased forehead whispering

“Sleep now… awaken within all that surrounds us.”


She would stand, a moist trickle of water softly rolling down from the corner of her eye now giving focus upon those within the tavern.

[Storm]

With her focus now upon her dear friend and the short red haired woman now sharing a table with him. She wipes her eyes for she does not desire her sadness displayed upon Slinkers eyes after the horrid display by the cute man for which Slinker and the red haired woman must have already witnessed. She takes a moment to adjust her clothing and runs a hand along her pony tail so as to be presentable before stepping silently to where Slinker and Shanni sit.

As she stands before the two, she fights to display a pleasant facial expression despite her inward pain touching her hand against her own chest (a display she has been taught to show her weapon hand is unarmed), her polite tone soft and formal

"My dear friend Slinker..." looks now toward Shanni "...and M'Lady, I do hope that such display brought within tis humble abode has nay brought distress upon thyselves. If such shant displease those before thee, might a humble woman take seat at thy table?"

As far as the Slinker was concerned, the beautiful elf was more than welcome to sit alongside them. The instinct - more properly, perhaps, the way a Dark Elf's inner mind can sift and evaluate rhythms, currents and gestures, "read" life the way a bird reads shifting air patterns, but "instinct" will do for here and now - the instinct, then, that had caused him (with no conscious thought) to intervene when she had been inconvenienced by the drunkards, indeed the same compulsion that had caused him to send the drink to Shanni - liked nothing better than an alliance, however temporary, between the three of them.

There was, however, another factor in his deliberations. He had not missed the alacrity with which the tailed, red-headed warrior had accepted his social overture, nor the look upon the elf's face when she had given him her gift. Both of these could, he knew, had been simply from the cleaving together of those in similar circumstances, the way a traveler in a strange land moves towards another from his own hearthstone, and though the three of them were of differing races, they could all have been said to have been closer together than any of them were to anyone else in the tavern.

For that matter - though he might have been flattering himself, for despite his appearance he rarely lacked for female company - either or both of the two women might have sought out his company for interactions over and above the merely social. He had not missed noticing the way Su-Lin took a careful few moments to primp and straighten her errant attire, nor the significant (he hoped) smile with which Shanni favored him.

But, truly, there was a stream of deeper significance here, one he found hard to ignore, and it was this: That some deep, strong feeling told him that the fates of the three of them, the stars alone knew how or why, were bound together. And for this reason if no other, he desired nothing better than having Shanni remain, and Su-Lin join them.

And if, perchance, one of the two women showed any jealousy at the other's presence - well, he thought with an internal smile, he could deal with that.

"With your permission, ma'am?" he said to Shanni, leaving the final decision to her.

Shanni looked from one person to another. It was becoming less intimate... of sort. Was that woman part of the plan? Looking at the dark elf and back at the beautiful woman, Shanni could not help but feel some kind of a heart ache. She was beautiful. Were they a couple?

After a pause thinking, Shanni decided it was not to be her business, after all this man has only come to deliver information on the missing prince-- Was he not?

Shanni drank from her glass and ended up simply shrugging, "Do as you will", she said simply marking the ale maid to get them another glass.

With all 3 cups half full it was Shanni turn to look at the Slinker again and add, "I assume she is part of the plan too?", she asked slowly, "And if not, my understand is that Gol'tat the goblin sent you so I could learn something new about our target?"

It made sense to Shanni that this was the reason he approached her to begin with. Otherwise why bothered with an impish girl when you have a beautiful company such as Su-Lin.

The red eyed demonic man had witnessed the levels of stupidity from a distance. A violence that made his own actions look futile: why attempt restraint when the world was lost so far up its own ass in stupid violent, shit. It had kept his hand off his blade, remaining in his corner and pausing himself restraining himself to his own affairs. Which, for now, were him and the tail baring woman who looked more vulnerable than her entrance had suggested. Women were vulnerable creatures.

The company she kept were somethings he had not laid eyes on before: a woman of elemental manipulation, and a Drow. While Silva drew in people from across the world, this particular bunch was highly unusual and above the mundane his red eyes easily glossed over.

Finally, It boldly moved through the bar. A tall man with flowing hair and robes past the drunkards still left after the frenzy. They did not exist in his reality, they would not bother him. It came to the table, to the red head and those she was associating with.

"Why is a Fieldling here? Our kind have no purpose being here"*

Having taken seat at the table with Slinker while Shanni spoke to him, thoughts filtered through her mind

What is this speak of a target… it mustn’t be an honorable endeavor as this woman before me seems to be in the employ of said Goblin. What of my dear friend before me, has he been awaiting this other woman to aide her on her quest for this target she seeks…

As these thoughts drift through her mind, her peripheral vision notices the red eyed figure now upon approach though she feels no threat by this figure. She continues listening as the figure now before them addresses the red haired woman. All the while she continues calculating each person she observes trying to surmise to what reason she was drawn upon this town. Could the visitor within her dreams have been the one who employs the red haired woman before her. Her soft chocolate eyes vigilantly take in and process all she sees, including the possible tax collector and his guard… if that hooded figure truly was a tax collector as she assumed.

The Slinker carefully took the time to pour himself a further goblet of wine before replying to Shanni's enquiry. In truth, "The Goblin" was new to him, though not entirely. He had heard certain rumors, things whispered among the groves and thickets, hints dropped amidst the dark, lightless wells at the very center of the thickest woods. He had not been afraid of what he had heard - not quite, anyway - but the thought had crossed his mind that were he other than what he was, he should be afraid indeed.

"The... the person of whom you speak, Ma'am," he said, carefully neutrally, "is not anyone I've met, nor had dealings with." His inner mind cried out to add and nor should you, if you value your life and well being, nor yet your sanity, but his natural caginess forced him to bite this back. "And, in truth, no-one sends me anywhere, nor tells me what to do. But..." and he relaxed slightly, and favored Su Lin with a look that he hoped was both inclusive and suggestive... "I would lief hear of him, and why you thought I might be acting under his agency. As, I speculate, might this fair representative of a far finer race than my own."

Still in thought as Slinker addresses Shanni, her mind processing specifically to what has drawn herself to this land and this particular place. Certain is she that what draws her to this soil is not corrupt which most certainly dismisses this Goblin the red haired woman speaks of. A subtle smile upon her lips as her dear friend speaks of not being of this Goblins acquaintance.

Hands upon the table folded properly, her eyes show gentleness to them some might misconstrued in these conversations as meekness within the person behind the hands, her tone soft and polite

“Miss, I too must offer admission that for which employs you, I do not have familiarity with. I do desire it be known man nor beast employs myself, I follow words spoken to me of land, air and the purity of the stars within the eve sky. I do know reason belongs for why I have been drawn upon this given soil, though hast been revealed to this woman before you yet.”

She glances toward ‘It’ offering a gentle nod of her head acknowledging his presence while keeping her hands folded upon the table top, thoughts praying that the woman with red hair does not take offense toward her words… or mistake her for one whom is defenseless.

Shanni grabbed the glass and drank, her other hand shaking under the table and over her knees. She has made a mistake... and probably said too much... Were they toying with her!? That man and woman... Were they making fun of her?!

She looked at the dark elf and back at the pretty woman, feeling anger, upset, jealousy... but her emotions only increased as the other being approached them.

"Fiendling", She whispered slowly to 'IT': "I go where I please", she bitten her lips, "Fancy my tail are you? If you have something to say, say it!", her voice was becoming higher, and her body started to grow warmer. Trying to remain calm as to not further blow her cover, she slowly reached her hands to the weapons under the table. If things go wrong, she would have be ready.

It reminisced in her spirit, she lacked discipline in her violence. Staring at her fresh face, he inwardly challenged how much grimness she had come to encounter in this life. The others at the table did not cling to It's attention yet, his blade hand itched to test this woman of his kind but the blade would always remain delicate against her female flesh. Perhaps that is the way he ought to behave, but It did not have the inclination, nor did she have the inclination to act decent.

She acted like a growing male adolescent of his tribes: defensive and ever searching for opportunities to display strength. This was irksome to It: a woman behaving as a male, for the blade made no distinction.

It moved slightly, his robes dancing with him, and silver strands fell down his face, along his nose as his eyes finally scanned all three at the table.

"Do you support this demon-child girl?" he asked in his unraveled, saddened voice to the Drow and the more collected, mature woman, among the females.

It is said a tailor can spot a misaligned clothing seam at a hundred paces in a darkened room. That a good armorer will pick the balance of a sword to the minutest degree merely by balancing it for a second upon his fingertip. That a horse dealer can pick the virtues and faults of a beast merely by glancing, for a second, into its eyes.

Each trade, each vocation, each way of living... each game... develops, in its players an instinct, a way of reading, a way of seeing, that leaves then incapable of failing to see what others, outside that narrow circle, would peer right by.

The Slinker's game was corruption. He could see it where few others could. The merest pinprick of brown in a perfect leaf, a single grain of rust in an otherwise shining sword, the merest of imperfections in the grain of a wood. He could look at a tree, a building, an animal, and tell exactly how far the inevitability of corruption had taken it in its slimy tentacles.

And, right now, there was no way he could fail to see the corruption before him. He could smell, it, hear it, feel it... by the darkest gods, he could taste it.

Taste... IT.

And that it had links with the red-headed warrior. A beauty that a thing as corrupt as this evil force would delight in destroying. The Slinker himself was an agent of corruption, but his own was of a kind foreordained by the very nature of reality, a necessary thing, part of the fabric of time and space and the currents of life. This thing...

He blinked, twice. Murmured certain words under his breath.

Outwardly, nothing had changed, so that neither Shanni nor Su Lin could have picked any difference. yet, certain currents rearranged themselves in the space around the table, certain subtle winds shifted and danced.

And if the thing threatened a single inch of the beautiful girl's tail, the Slinker knew it would immediately fester, collapse into its own corruption, vanish from the face of reality. Or, at least the spell book had said as much.

"Support that you find yourself another table? Yes, I am sure she is!", Shanni couldn't even begin to understand what the issue was, but her hands were shaking, along with her warm body. She grinned slowly, trying to keep her cool, but she was close to snap.

As Shanni spoke, Su-Lin maintained a calm demeanor and expression upon her face though she could sense the woman before them was seemingly becoming agitated, any feeling Su-Lin had drifting through her mind of differences within the aura surrounding those at the table were dismissed as the red hair woman's displeasure toward what had been said. As the tall male moves effortlessly closer to where she sits, her own hands remain upon the table, her soft chocolate eyes follow the male as he speaks to herself and her dear friend Slinker.

Others of good mind would have a tremble in their voice or have fear displayed upon their faces as one so obviously powerful as ‘It’ was in their presence, yet these were not present as she softly spoke ever so politely

“Sire, I dear not be as so bold to speak for my dear friend…” offering a nod in Slinker’s direction not breaking eye contact with the tall male before the three “or the young woman of red hair, neither support…. nor hinder… the youthful woman tis our intent. I speak of only truthful words sire; tis not of clear mindfulness what hast whispered within my soul drawing myself to the soil for which I now find myself. I am known as Su-Lin and this humble woman would desire to offer thee a placement upon this table I share with my dear friend and the youthful woman.”

She continues to keep a soft gentle gaze upon ‘It’ ensuring her tone remains soft and soothing. She is well aware that ‘It’ must possess extraordinary strength and pose great danger to those he would set desire to harm yet through her years, she does not fear the most powerful (powerful humans are the exception), she saves her fear for whom display their skills in hopes in gaining name for their selves.