(M) Rogue's Gallery IC

[Leanna]

By the time Sheva and Jazi caught up to Vel she was already heading in another direction altogether, the shadow of a man could be seen in the background and Sheva recognize his features. It was Trist, and seeing how they both departed quickly, Sheva could assume the hunter was sending her on some mission or another.

Jazi was also gone, probably going to present Yn with his gift and Sheva was left alone. With heavy steps she went to the stables, “Here girl”, she said, giving some food to Rain, and after petting her mare she pulled out the coin which was given to them by Ky. The silver lining, the emblem, the shape and weight. It was indeed hailing from the treasury of the palace of Salivan.

The kingdoms of the north, Novigard, Dominion and Salivan were not only somewhat closer in terms of distance and trading roads, but they were also joined by blood. Their custom and court behaviour along with currency were practically the same to the untrained eye, but Sheva could tell that this coin was hailing from Salivan directly. And who would use the treasury to hire an assassin to kill Jamon? Maybe lords that wanted to rid themselves of their new monarchy? But seeing how many years the new king and queen been in power that seemed unlikely… unless there was another reason to it or…

“Think! Think!”

Sheva tried to recall Ky’s words. He was so confident about his mission. To the point that once the group knew who was behind it, things will be clear. How can one be so certain of his intentions?

“Gah!”.

Sheva clutched the coin in her hand. Having the boy dead will not be a bad thing in the long run. Using this favour with whomever hired Ky to get closer to the throne was appealing and yet… the idea left a terrible taste in her mouth. War was a dirty business. And sometimes to get what you want you needed to consider doing horrible things, but the boy's death was simply uncalled for. Jamon was not an active foe, and all his bad deeds was of him being in the wrong place and wrong time. Even if he was a useless meat and an idiot, Sheva knew his death was unjustified.

But what would she do with all this information? And would someone be able to solve this puzzle for her? And what if Ky is playing tricks on her? After all he has Morinth by his side, and she knew exactly how to make Sheva move according to her tune.

Once Yn offered a gentle farewell, Shel turned back around to scrutinise the bare-backed man as he made his departure. Even in their short conversation, there was something in the Dusha Kin that had caused an unexpected rush of emotions to bubble up within the orc, leaving her unable to deny the impression that he had made on her. Because behind Yn’s gruff appearance, there was deep kindness, one that Shel could see through the soft pools of his eyes as he repeatedly enquired over her wellbeing. As it were, the she-orc appreciated the genuine way that the man expressed himself—in spite of her own contempt over his admittance to snuffing out the life of one of her kind.

Living alongside these other breeds truly was proving to be one wild ride and a test of the soul, and a confusing one at that. Because since Shel was young, all she had ever been taught was that loyalty to the orcish always came first. No questions asked and no exceptions made. It was a training of the mind that fortified the belief that the survival of the orcish race outweighed everything; this perhaps being the creed that had kept the orcs standing tall through their many trials and tribulations. It was a belief that had always aided them in conquering threats of extinction, whether by plague and pestilence; or by the human, elven and ogre aggressors they had warred with at many points in past millennia.

It was a long and violent past that brought about a resilience that embedded itself into the very genetic fibres of orcish biology after thousands of years of struggling for survival… even leading to an eventual physical alteration of their very biology. And it was the berserker abilities that became chief among those evolutionary defense mechanisms that had developed. It was the nature that they drew from the most when in need, passing such traits on to posterity through their lifeblood.

And Shel still subconsciously carried these echoes of the past, her momentous ancestral heritage that played like a mantra within her psyche as ominous as war drums. She even could almost hear the chants of her own tribe’s wise women who always sought to rile up the people to keep the inner warlord alive within every orcish man, woman, and child. That way, lurking below the surface, the berserker was always there, prepared to act when the day of reckoning once more inevitably came.

May curses rain down like fiery stones from the heavens, bringing a swift end to every enemy of the orc! May any who dare rise against the orc with weapon or tongue be crushed and brought to the dust!

These were Shel’s earliest memories. Being told that any who threatened her well being was the enemy. Any rival deserved no pity, no explanations, and certainly not to be met with anything other than hostility. Or so was what had been drilled into Shel since childhood. But what does one do, she now wondered, if her enemies were more of a blurred line? And what if there were no longer only external enemies to worry about, all of the outsiders who would dare hurt an orc...

Like Yn?

...but a more internal enemy?

Like me?

And why could there be no explanations? Shel had always carried so many whys about all of these things on the inside of her, and it was that simple word that always seemed to get her into trouble.

Seeking solace from these troubling thoughts, the she-orc grew more conflicted and veered towards Maso to distract herself, gently caressing the beast while Lu curled herself up quite comfortably beside the elk. The indecisive boar had eventually settled upon collecting her warmth from Twig Head (for now), finding it difficult to decide between Maso and Faur in this very confusing moment. Why couldn’t they all just enjoy one giant cuddle fest, she wondered?

Meanwhile, Shel had begun to study Maso’s largest wound, the one on his giant thigh, before rubbing a salve deeply into it. That dose of tranquilising tonic that Balder had given Shel to administer upon the mammoth truly was working a charm, it seemed. And how powerful these herbs must be, whatever they are, Shel thought to herself. Because what in Eisignol held the power to bring down the mammoth so gracefully?

Little did Shel know that the recipe was a carefully guarded secret that no giant ever spoke of (save with other giants), but it was a plant-based concoction discovered and cultivated by the giantfolk some centuries ago. In fact, the very herbs used for it grow exclusively on the ancestral territories of the giant clans, only under very specific conditions and in certain types of soils. Because what fertilised this soil was the key to its potency—the bodies of giants lost. It grew in the lands where the wise giants of the ages had been laid to rest, the Great Ancient Ones… as well as those who had released their spirit to the Father and gave their body back to the Mother more recently.

But why keep something so profound a secret, so carefully protected? If one were ever brave enough to pose this question to any giant, they might be told it was because they as a people were just not convinced that other childlike races could be trusted with herbs and secrets of such efficacy. Not until they chose to set aside their violent ways. Then the giant would likely ramble on of his or her distaste of the tendency for their little brothers and sisters to bastardise what is meant for healing into weapons of war and carnage.

The giants therefore justified hiding some of their more powerful discoveries from the world, as their bioluminescent herbs must never fall into the hands of the violent, nor the power-seekers. They believed that this was the only way to ensure its potent power could not be used for destruction, but only restoration.

Because to the giantfolk, Eisignol was the Great Mother To All. So how could they ever sanction the suffering of Earth Mother’s sons and daughters, all of whom She greatly cherished? How could they ever do anything but hope that one day the Sky Father would look down to see that his children had finally turned aside from their reckless ways of ripping each other apart?

As it were, Balder’s glowing tonic left the mammoth absolutely comatose for the day, seemingly advancing Maso’s healing with more haste. It was while Shel was sitting in amazement at this that the door creaked open, causing her to hold her breath at the unwelcome sound. She was not keen on any more visitors right now, so opted to remain as silent as the dead as she hid behind the mammoth’s great hide.

But who was it? Some stableboy? The answer proved easy enough to find, because all Shel needed to do was patiently wait and listen as this uninvited individual began to speak. And the voice was all too recognisable… one that had an air about it like wind chimes.

Hm. Sheva. Speak of the devil.

No doubt coming to seek out her prized mare? Well, this did make her need to confront Sheva a lot easier, Shel thought. Because what sort of huntress did not appreciate when the prey simply came to them? Taking advantage of Sheva’s momentary distraction, the orc tip-toed towards the stable door, shutting it with an obvious bang before securing the lock and pocketing the key.

“Oops,” was all the orc said, looking right at the mage with her one good eye.

Sheva gasped as she turned around. But her expression changed immediately. Whatever was up with the Orc, she definitely did it on purpose. Why was she always like that? Sheva shook her head. She got up and the moment she landed her eyes on the Orc her face switched colors, “What happened to you?!”.

“You tell me,” Shel responded with an orcish ire, giving Sheva an honest chance to explain what was bubbling somewhere beneath the surface. That is, if this human was bright enough to put the puzzle pieces together (which Shel doubted), and understand that what was being referred to was her gift... as well as the circumstances surrounding the bandit raid itself.

“I have no idea?”, Sheva tilted her head. She didn’t recall Shel needing healing… or being around during the attack to begin with. Shel was probably going to blame her for something, that at least she could tell from the tune of the Orc, but for the love of god, she had no idea what was going within that woman’s mind, “Do you want to tell me?”

Shel looked at Sheva for a moment, almost hating the woman for fooling her with those earrings (as she assumed that’s what had occurred), but allowed a few moments of peace to pass instead. Sheva really did seem lost, Shel realised, so perhaps she really did not know of the earrings origin or what had spurred the attack? Perhaps she meant no harm after all?

“You gave me these,” was all Shel revealed, taking the distinct silver and crimson studs from a hidden pocket inside her cloak. “But why?” Shel then concealed the treasure of royal origins once more with one smooth movement. What was Sheva hiding? And who was this foreign queen the bandit had been so adamant about, wanting to know how an orc came upon a monarchal piece of jewelry?

“Because I wanted the mare!”, Sheva said with anger, “You set the price bar too damn high, and I was willing to part with those earrings, which are fucking expensive mind you!”, Sheva shook her head, “Why else would I do it?”

And I wanted to impress the giant... with coin! But you chose to give me earrings instead. Ones with ties to some foreign ice queen, a dangerous one!

“Because it made you angry that you could not best an orc,” Shel quipped back, starting to list off the motives that she assumed had inspired Sheva to bestow her with such a poisonous gift.

“Because I was shoving it in your face that I was not afraid to tell you off, or above dirty tactics. You knew I was on the verge of taking your glorious Rain for myself, because your offer did not please me. And that would have driven you crazy, wouldn’t it? Riding in circles around you on the most prized mount? Seeing an orc take possession of the things you most desire?”

At this time, Shel began to act without much thought, her single-eyed gaze darkening as she roughly seized the mage’s collar to pull Sheva’s pretty face over to closely view her own.

“Because you knew to wear those earrings was dangerous! What do you know of the attackers? Sheva! Look at MY FACE!”

However, unable to keep the hand that held the collar from trembling, Shel’s expression began to betray so much pent up emotion that it appeared as if a dam was on the verge of breaking. Damn it. Noticing the way her arm suddenly shook, the orc began to experience a small trickle of clarity, which ultimately led Shel into releasing Sheva in a burst of inner remorse.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

Intimidation truly was a most deadly weapon, a double-edged sword, one that too often destroyed the humanity of both giver and receiver. Shel sighed. The last thing she wanted right now was to see yet another person become hardened by such, like she had been. And somewhere deep down, neither did the orc want to see anyone feeling small or lost, like Sheva had back in Balefire when the two of them had spoken of the dastardly Adam.

Speaking of whom, Shel still was immensely curious about the circumstances that surrounded Sheva and this man. What had Oakland done to her that instilled such a strong reaction, one that spoke of rage and intimidation the day that Shel handed Rain over? Why had Adam carried this woman into the Rogues partially disrobed and vulnerable… before he frightened her? Who was this man… truly? Shel was not sure she wanted to know.

As for Sheva’s curious way of responding to Adam after he did whatever he had to upset her—speaking peaceably to him in the Rogue Gallery courtyard for Tris and Shel to see—well, it was confusing for the orc to say the least. Shel ached to know the truth of it all. Because if this Adam fellow was as unsavoury as others she had known in the past, the orcish huntress would take great pleasure in seeing his downfall. Perhaps she may even attempt to instigate it, because in Shel’s mind, such a person did not deserve to wield power over anyone in the Gallery, much less anyone in general.

“Tsk”, was all the fair lady said, and for a moment Sheva gave an expression that was hard to read. Yet even though she was hard pressed for judgment by the fearsome she-orc, she remained fixed at her, not averting her eyes from her face while her hands were slowly fumbling to remove one glove from her right hand. And just like that, without allow Shel a moment to understand what Sheva was about to do, she quickly pressed her palm against the swallowed cheek of the Orc.

The impact was swift as Shel anger began to be absorbed along with her soul’s energy and Sheva’s eyes shone with strange light. Shel tasted differently. Not bad, but not pleasant either. The wrath was so boiling in her that it was almost impossible to control the energy, but it had to be done. The woman was furious, and if it was any other situation Sheva would have probably started to attack her with fire.

But not now. Not when a woman’s pride was on the line. No one has the right to hurt a woman’s face. Not like this. Not ever.

But Shel was not in a mood to explain, or even listen to reason, so another method had to be in order, even though she didn’t want to reveal her powers to her.

This is my command to you. Explain to me what happened, everything, in the clearest way possible

Shel was a bit taken aback by Sheva, not merely by the fact that the human gave little response to her collar being grabbed, but more so by her ice cold stare. It was difficult for Shel to decipher. But as the orc found it notoriously hard to apologise, she struggled to find a response, instead choosing to lean on silence.

Perhaps it would be best to stop playing games now and plainly ask Sheva who she really was and what connections she had to Salivan. Be forthright about it. Because whoever this woman was, whatever she was, had nearly gotten Shel killed and the orc believed that the very least she deserved for that was the truth.

And then it hit her.

The truth.

The dark arts.

Shel made an impassioned attempt to block Sheva from touching her with hidden, cursed magic—a dirty tactic, Sheva!—but was unsuccessful due to the suddenness of the mage’s movement. Instead, Shel became overwhelmed by the force of supernature; and though she could not fully counter its power, this certainly did not mean that Shel did not savagely try with her own force of nature.

Her innermost will.

I do not... take commands...

These were the words that Shel was able to get out when their two energies met in full force, almost reminiscent of two hurricanes that collided, playing off each other and engaging in a sort of dance over a tempestuous sea. Just in this way, the results were always transformative and brought on the birth of a new and stronger superstorm.

Only… re... quests...

Shel felt the same in the case of Dagur.

And Adam.

And Tristifer.

Even Balder.

So she most definitely would not take any such thing from Sheva.

Even so, considering the circumstances, it was all that Shel could do to not just give in. With each passing moment, whatever the mage was doing to her made her increasingly tired, not to mention how much it stung her to the core. So when these unpleasant feelings got to a boiling point, Shel just wanted it to stop. (Besides, was she not on the verge of spilling all of this to Sheva anyway, in search of the truth? She might as well fucking speak now.)

Shel therefore began to share everything that had occurred with the bandit beside the dead fire, seeking answers from Sheva, but also finding the conversation comforting.

***

Flashback


***

I need Balder.

I was consumed by that simple thought when I was climbing out of the creek that I had been swimming in yesterday. He was the only person I could bring myself to think about right then. Well, other than Sir Tristifer and how fucking much his rooster call had irritated me. I despise being summoned like some underling, which was what I thought Tris had been doing. So I took my sweet time in responding to his wake up call.

I began to dress myself ever so slowly, primping and preening so that I would look as charming as possible when I finally decided to return to the camp and the giant. Feeling so fresh and clean, I even braided my hair artistically and put a wild flower in it, wanting to appear pleasant before I went to prepare a traditional orcish breakfast for Crag to enjoy. It was then that I remembered the jewelry that I now possessed: the ancient orcish necklace that I had [strike]stolen[/strike] borrowed from Rhok The Mammoth Slayer, and those beautiful foreign earrings that you had so graciously given.

Both of which are complete lies.

Rhok is no true Mammoth Slayer, as he claims.

Nor are you gracious, Sheva.

With that, Shel paused the metaphysical conversation that she was having with the mage, suddenly distracted by something very profound that was happening to her own being. Looking down towards her chest, Shel could see that the area around her heart had begun to glow with a more vivid life force with every truth spoken. It was like a warm radiance was in the midst of growing ever brighter as she communicated with genuine expression.

And the longer Shel chose to speak in this manner, the sting of Sheva’s magic seemed to ebb too, as if this was the key in releasing the healing that cascaded from Sheva in an ever-strengthening white glow. All of it was so good and so weight-lifting that Shel chose to continue further, wanting this sensation of cool water trickling down her face to continue.

Anyway. Once I was satisfied that Tristifer had more than enough time to realise that his summons mean nothing to me, I started to slowly meander back towards the camp, amusing myself with a hundred ideas of how I could coerce Bigwit into annoying the archer for my own personal enjoyment. But all of these inner musings only kept me from realising what was actually occurring with you all.

I had floated so far downstream that I could no longer clearly hear what was going on in the camp, and was so blissfully unaware of the bloodshed that I only started to hear the chaos once I veered back towards the fire pit that I had shared with Velaire.

It was then that I was jolted back to reality, hearing another shout, one that clearly signified that danger was nearby. It was a noise that I instinctively knew belonged to a man who was in the midst of experiencing death, and this was the exact moment that I knew I was no longer alone.

Because from some hideout in the bushes, a blood-covered man abruptly revealed himself, breathing strenuously but otherwise appearing unhurt. He wasted no time in approaching me with his blade raised, shouting curses and calling me a Rogue, ordering me not to move.

Perhaps I should have ran right then, but my gut told me to lie and stand my ground. Fleeing seemed too suspicious and… as I had no idea what was even going on or why this person was being aggressive... I chose to bet my cards on charm. I did what felt right.

I smiled.

But that was one of my many mistakes.

Nor should I have taken my precious time in braiding my hair and putting a flower in it—even though that made me feel beautiful. I should have been armed and ready for when that man arrived, not donning beautiful earrings and the like. But it still is hard to scold myself, because sometimes I just want to be and feel like a woman, even if that’s what seems to fuck me over at times.

I tried to talk the man into putting down his weapon, thinking I was in full control of the conversation, and he seemed to be eating up my every word at first. I told him I was merely a lone traveller, and was absolutely not a Rogue. Yes, I had encountered the Rogues on the road, I told him. But I had no affiliation and no meaningful interactions with them. As such, I apologised for being little help, always aiming to conduct myself confidently.

That was when I realised I was not as in control as I thought I was. Because when I bade him farewell and meant to take my leave, I again smiled pleasantly while tucking a bit of my hair behind my ear. Which was when his expression suddenly soured, and he seized my arm to stop my departure. He would not stop gawking at me. At first, I didn’t know what he was looking at so intently, but it did not take too long to understand. Because he started to tell me what bothered him, plainly.

‘Those earrings… belong to her,’ was all he kept saying to me, mumbling things about his foreign Ice Queen as he began to search my person. My own expression darkened at this. I did not appreciate being grabbed in such a way or being combed over like some common criminal. So I backhanded the man, warning him to let go.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he returned the bite I had given him twice over. He pulled his free hand out from searching me, first revealing Dagur’s abominable Rogue pin that everyone carries around like a pack of fools. ‘And you... are a liar,’ the man conceded before striking me in the eye with his fist. And it hurt, that… so much that the pain blinded me for an instant.

Either way, I wanted to show this man—whoever he was—that his hurting my eye could not shut up my voice. So I just said the first thing that came to my mind to prove this point, adding insult to injury. I called his queen a whore.

So he struck me again, this time in the mouth, presumably to quiet me. And the busted lip was worth it, I must confess. I enjoyed the look of upset that my words brought him in those fleeting moments, because it clearly showed me how much power words truly held. Even the words of an orc. Even my words.

It was at this time that he fell upon me like some avalanche, lifting me up off my feet and slamming me down to the ground. I landed in a puddle with a splash that sent water up my nose and into my eyes as the air was driven out of me, and he grabbed his blade to strike me with that now.

But I kneed him in the groin with haste, which caused him to veer just enough to slice my arm instead of my vitals, which also earned me time to take advantage of his pain and toss his weapon away from reach. He resorted to using his hands once more, as I assume he did not want me to turn away and flee.

So he grabbed me again, this time taking hold of my hair, using his greater weight to snap my head down against some half-buried stone, one that was part of the circumference around the fire that I had enjoyed with Vel the night before. There, he drove me deeper into the ash and grabbed my neck to stop me from breathing.

His body felt as heavy as a horse, impossible to move, and I felt as if my own body was betraying me. My own orcish ability to protect myself was betraying me. Where was the berserker in my time of need? What was the point of this life and such abilities if one could not easily summon their strengths at will? I kept waiting and waiting and waiting for it to come to my aid—that grotesque thing that felt so fundamental to my being orcish and so crucial to my very existence.

Had life somehow taken that from me too?

I could hear a dog barking and men shouting in the distance, but all of it seemed so far away and so unimportant. To me in that moment, my whole world was only as large as the hands of the ice bandit that had me in a chokehold. Because I could feel myself spiralling down into darkness, too far separated from the Rogues to seek help. It almost felt as if I was floating above myself, watching what was occurring and judging it harshly, as if it was happening to some other woman. Some stupid girl who was arrogant enough to think she needed nothing and no one.

But I can’t die yet, I kept thinking. Not like that. There was something I still needed to do, and I could not allow this person to stop me.

This recollection was what turned the situation on its head, tipping the scales, and causing rage to flash like lightning and peal like thunder inside my skull. Finally, I felt the dam break as the berserker hormone broke through and released itself, causing orcish adrenaline to flood my veins and make my eyes bloodshot.

This was when I could effectively begin to defend myself, even if only slightly. I was not able to push him back fully, but partially, which allowed me the freedom to use my good arm to fight back. I took this opportunity to edge my weary hand over to a craggy stone that sat in the dead fire pit, raising it up and striking it down upon the man’s head like a hammer from behind with every bit of force I could muster.

This jolted the bandit from the chokehold, and finally, I was free. Yet I could waste no time, as every second was precious. So I struck again while the iron was hot, bending down to use my wounded arm to toss a cloud of ash into the air, momentarily blinding him, even as I grabbed another stone with my other arm. This stone was used to jar him a bit more, giving me a chance to run for Balder.

But he once more came at me like a rabid dog, and I realised there would be no fleeing, nor would there be any Balder to help me. Not this time. Just me. So I took ownership of this, feeling like there was no other choice but to test the limits of my racial abilities. What else could I do?

I don’t remember what I did after that. All I know is that his face was smashed to a pulp with a rock, and he was dead. I then started to stagger back to the camp, feeling extremely faint from the level of exertion that it had taken out of me to defend myself. I was entirely sapped of all energy, and the last thing I remember is falling down a gully and landing beside a dead rabbit.

***

Flashback ends

***

Sheva was crouching on the ground as she looked up. This controlling power was a double edged sword but it allowed her to make some sense of the Orc’s accusation. Curses. Seems like even here, far away, her past won’t stop hunting her.

“The three kingdoms of the North are having shared traits. Not just by customs or even trade… but by blade. The Dominion, the lion king, Novigard, the raven queen prophet, and Salivan, the wolf defender. This their emblem, and your earrings will not have been noticed by common folks, and I should have probably seen it coming but… how could I? Who would have known about this? Who would see pass through a trinket? What I wished to give away as coin trade has come back to bite me, even though I only see it as jewel”

The connection between the bandits and the kingdom of the north made clear, and even though they were able to tell the jewel came from Salivan, they still assumed Shel was associated with Novigard’s affirts, a thing that put her at risk.

Or maybe those were Ky’s men and they were trying to hurt everyone meddling into the affairs of Salivan?

Either way, Shel was hurt… because of her.

“Long ago it held a meaningful use, it was a gift but when I was exiled I refused to ever wear. I will not ask forgiveness because.. How could I know… alas I can offer something else…”. While still weak, Sheva reached out her hand, once again touching directly into Shel’s skin. This time the energy was smoother, less painful, and somewhat cold. Tissues began to mend as the open wound in Shel body and her face began to shrink back.

Sheva was healing her… And by the way the woman was sweating and heaving, Shel could tell that it was at the cost of a great effort. Sheva had nearly collapsed, but stopped the connection when she was almost depleted. She couldn’t have spent herself before finishing the things she wanted to do today.

There were some scars and marks, but it was clear those will heal with more time, yet it seems like the wounds were nearly gone.

Finally released from whatever magical spell that Sheva had concocted, Shel once again felt fully in control and free to do as she wished. It was a refreshing feeling, to be sure, but it was the betterment of her face that brought her true reprieve. Shel touched the places that had been healed, lightly, to see if it was real.

And it was. Not only was Sheva a mage… but one with connections to the royal court of Salivan? Shel wished to delve further into what all of this truly meant. What relationship did Sheva have with the Whore Queen (as Shel now affectionately called her), and why did Adam intimidate her?

But it was apparent that now was not the time for questions such as these, because as Shel diverted her attention back to Sheva, she could obviously see that it was the mage who was now ailing. So Shel reached forth to support the woman so that she would not keel over from exhaustion.

“Who are you?” the orc asked in wonderment, but did not press the issue too much further for now, as Sheva seemed much too drained to continue on much more with explanations. But weren’t they in Alegast, the City of Scholars, where there was an ancient library to roam?

Perhaps I would benefit from some explorations into the history of this kingdom that Sheva speaks of, the orc pondered. Perhaps that is another way to shed light on this manner, as I still believe she is hiding something.

“I will keep your secrets,” Shel then assured Sheva in confidence, still holding her upright as her tone melted into something a bit more soft, more genuine than before. “But only if you agree to never forcibly use your magic on me again.”

Sheva nodded, her eyes half closed, “I was… betrayed… and…”, she looked into her hands, which one had still a glove on, “Turned into… this… abomination… now I need energy to sustain whatever power in me… and it’s never enough...”, Sheva moved on to place her glove back on her hand, “But few advantages are within this curse… as you saw… my healing is second to none… as long as it doesn’t involve growing new limbs or body parts. Once branches are cut, they cannot regrow, however, it is always possible to mend destroyed husk… to a point….”, Sheva looked at her, “I don’t trust people to keep secrets. It’s hard for mortals to do so, however, I will be very grateful to you if you keep this information with you. I will promise you to never use this power on you again, not unless I’m provoked to the point I have no other means to use it, or if it will be to save someone or your own life”

[P.K.]

Vel had found an empty room far from some of the others that looked as if they had been claimed already. Hoping that no one would come to claim this far room and she’d be left in solitude after today's events. She carefully folded her new clothing and set it aside on a table before taking a quick look over the letters Tris had given her.

There were a few words she couldn’t understand but she was certain she could piece them together. She was debating if she should try and locate a book in the library, longing to roam between the bookshelves now more than ever. She had all night, as doubtless the others would sleep leaving her time to wander while others slumbred, so long as the library was not closed during that time.

She sighed as she finely set down, settling herself as she pulled her book free along with her quill and ink. Flipping to a blank page near the back of her book and laid the letter open using her ink well to keep it open as she went about translating. She left a blank space for any words she couldn’t immediately read determining she could look for a book tomorrow while she went in search of information about the tears with the others.

She should have the letters translated with in two days at the most, a day and a night in the least. She hadn’t gotten more then a few lines before she heard the door open and remembering Tris’s words She quickly folded the letter and put it between the pages before closing her book, hopping the ink won't smudge too much for doing so.

“There you are”, Sheva said as she entered, yawning and rubbing her eyes, “You stormed out really fast before”, She was holding the fabric she had bought previously, not it was already sewn into a proper dress. Most likely using the time to get it fixed until they were all heading to bed, “Our gracious leaders said we need to settle in for the day, and while we may spend a day or two here they don’t want us to slack or stay up late… not that they really care, but they do want to make sure we are in our rooms and safe… so… you choose this one?”, Sheva scanned around it, her backpack leaning at the doorway and she slowly pulled it inside, “Mind if we share?”

Vel frowned under her hood as Sheva came in, nervous about the possible questions she had but for now she only seemed intent on finding a room to stay in. Thought there was literally like a hundred of them why Sheva spent however long to search out the one she’d claimed Vel was not sure, but she bet it had to do with Sheva’s questions that Vel didn’t doubt she had. Was Sheva concerned for her? It was a nice thought but it still Made her nervous as She asked if they could share.

There was really no reason Vel could say no, the room was fairly large and no one else was here so she slowly nodded, glad the women couldn’t see her face underneath her hood as she opened up her book once more to a blank page. With any luck Sheva would go to sleep soon and leave vel to spend the night translating still.

“Hmm!”, Sheva hummed and clapped her fingers together as she removed a scroll of paper. A sensation of magic brought forth a small gust of wind that carried two heavy looking desk into the rooms (and also seemed to make some papers to fly about). The tables landed with a heavy thud upon which Sheva started to organize her things, and make a vanity desk for all her make up and accessories.

Vel shifted uncomfortably at the display of magic but made no other move beyond that as she watched. As Sheva began to set up a vanity desk Vel leaned back on the table and watched with some interest. She’d had one once but that was so long ago she could hardly recall what she’d used, if anything at all. Even as a sort of ‘high’ statues she’d always preferred simple things. A light fragrance, very little makeup and a fine but simple gown was always her choice on a good day. Sheva on the other hand seemed to take much more pride in her appearance then She ever had, even living.

Sheva hummed softly as she began to rub her face and neck with oils and start to powder herself. She kept checking the mirror when she used eyeliner to make sure it was perfectly drawn while adding some shades to her cheeks.

Having entered the Annex after the troubling encounter with her brother, Su Lin and Mynx proceeded down a hall, Su Lin’s steps ultra quiet. Having heard a light humming as she passed a room, Su Lin gazed inside taking notice of the hooded woman whom has spent the entire journey avoiding close contact with others as well as Sheva. Having maintained close observation on Vel during this journey, Su Lin has surmised that the woman either had a bounty on her head or had a physical appearance she was uncomfortable allowing others see. If it was not a bounty on the girl, was she of a species that humans naturally took mistrust of? Her stature was too small for Elf or Ogre, mahaps the girl were Vampire, Lycan or Undead. She dismissed the Lycan straight away as Mynx had not growled any time they were in the same proximity. No matter the case, it was a time for formal introduction. That and she desired to know if Sheva’s sister had made herself known in town yet.

Su Lin stepped through the entry to the room resting her hand to her chest bowing her head slightly, her tone friendly as though she were making an introduction to a diplomat

“Gentle day Miss Sheva and Miss Velaire, I pray I spoke your name correctly Miss Velaire?” with a gentle gaze in Vel’s direction “..I hope I have not intruded during a time of rest.” now looking toward the two women in the room, not stepping further until mainly Vel made some gesture for her to enter.

Vel had simply been watching sheva, unable to get back to translating with her in the room. She’d leaned back on the desk, crossing her arms over her chest until she heard someone begin to speak. Vel looked to the door to See Su lin in the door. Vel felt herself tensing at the woman's appearance her mannerisms reminding her of Ky which in turn reminded her that Ky had mentioned that Su lin was his sister.

Ky had observed her being so easily and she was not eager to find out if Su lin could do the same. She realized the woman was talking directly to her making vel start for a moment, her nervousness rising under the women’s gaze. Something about if she’d pronounced her name right. Vel nodded before turning her head and pulling her hood down further praying that Sheva would not be reminded of Ky’s remark about her.

As Su Lin entered, Mynx followed, the ocecat starting to get her balance back although she still swayed slightly, her hand going to the wall to steady herself, nails extending for purchase. She nodded to Vel and Sheva, her pose rigid, all too aware that there was a lycan on the premises. With a light inhale, her attention shifted to the desk with the beauty products upon it. She was aware of the things women put on their bodies and faces, but had never used them herself. The perfume’s scent in the room was pleasant, one that slightly masked the undertone of each woman’s personal aroma. For Mynx, nearly all odors were pleasant, the downy follicles in her nose using the unique chemicals for identification...and if she had to be inside the Annex, this room was better than most...the dog’s musk barely perceptible over that of the manufactured product.

“You want to try some?”, Sheva asked turning her gaze at Mynx.

The ocecat lifted a brow, considering the offer, then smirked. “Yes...you make me pretty...with colors?” The thought amused her. She kept herself clean, brushed her hair, and occasionally wore a jewel around her neck or forehead...but never had she made up her face. It seemed like a game to her...perhaps a bonding ritual between women. She glanced quickly at Su, then released her claws from the wall, making her way slowly over to the mage.

“Okay then!”, Sheva grinned a little, enjoying the fact she could apply some makeup on the girl. She picked up a towel and began to clean Mynx’s face a bit, “Sorry, it may hurt a little bit, but I’ll be gentle”. Truth be told she never applied a make to anyone who did not have human or elven features, but the thoughts excited her. So much potential to try with bright and more daring colors that will suit the nature of Mynx. Sheva was so joyful and she began to work immediately as she moved a stool for the ocecat to sit, “So”, Sheva said while mixing some colors with a brush, testing it on the back of her palm, before rubbing it on Mynx, “We got to meet you brother”, she told Su-Lin without looking at her.

As Mynx had replied ‘You make me pretty…’, Su Lin let out an unusual sound, always being guarded in public, maintaining a flat demenior, she tried to withhold the giggle yet it escaped. Still with a slight smile on her lips, Su lin resumed watching as Mynx takes a seat and Sheva begins testing colors which might bring out Mynx features.

Su Lin was in thought how she was going to bring up the topic of her brother when Sheva casually mentioned a meeting with Ky. Had Sheva been looking to Su, a moments facial expression of pain flashed for that fleeting moment. Had Ky spoken the title she had been spending years trying to forget, this was not her any longer. Trusting Ky would respect the first meet protocol, she did not think he tried to do harm to any. Recalling how Sheva and her sister interacted, with Sheva’s casual demeanor, Su Lin did not think that Morinth accompanied Ky during that introduction. Keeping her tone flat

“I trust my brother spoke then of who he takes their gold and trinkets for? If he did not speak this, the boy will be safe today, he is just around to view those who might be protection for who he seeks. He did however have troubling words for me, of deception, that the boy might not be who even he believes he is.”

Giving a moment's pause considering a diplomatic way to deliver the next in the event Sheva were not yet aware, her tone unusually softens “My brother also spoke ‘She’ travels with him and too is in town.” watching Sheva for any reaction, if she were aware already that her own sister was in town with Ky. Su Lin had no reason to doubt Ky, even though he was now a Palace Whore, he only spoke true words.

Vel set quietly as she listened to Mynx and Sheva talk about makeup. She wondered how that would turn out on Mynx but she only looked up as Su lin mentioned Ky. She glanced at Sheva. She? She reached back and took her book and opened it to a blank page before writing. “He’s confident, he’s revealed his mission to many people it won't be long till the whole guild knows his goal, even as skilled as he might be he can’t fight all of us.” She said before turning the book around so they could read.

“Hmph”, Sheva answered, too occupied in applying the right colors and making sure Mynx won’t lick off the powder. She peeked at what Vel wrote and nodded, “We do not know who hired him though… but I have my suspicions- Hold still Mynx!”

With a grunt the feline stopped fidgeting, her attention divided between the conversation and the pleasing aroma of the make-up. She glanced in the mirror before her, peering closely at the shadow over her eyes, then to the note Vel had held up. The letters were familiar, but the words they formed unknown.

“What Vel write?” she asked, once again looking at her reflection. She lifted her lip in a mock snarl, running a finger along it and looking at the lipstick stain on the tip. “Hmmm...no eat?”

“No Mynx, you can’t eat that!”, Sheva said slowly, her expression serious, even though there were hints of enjoyment in her eyes, “Vel wrote that Su’s brother talked about his plan to kill the boy, and the fact that he is rather bold to risk everyone knowing his plan. After all, he can’t take the entire Guild on!”

As Vel wrote in the book and held it to be read and Sheva and Mynx responded, Su Lin’s expression grew blank. Her tone somewhat ominous,

“I do not believe Ky has the intention of taking on the entire Guild. If he has spoken to some, it would be more a peace offering before he brings about destruction. It does not matter if he is out bladed or face large numbers, in the end, it may not be a blade that need be feared. He has in the past gone to the extreme of bringing about the death of an entire Palace Ballroom just to rebir… to kill one.” She closed her eyes not wanting to look at the other women “Should he want to take this approach, he would simply use a natural blend which would remove life. He is well gifted in creating … poisons. One can be exposed to what is blended and would be unnoticeable. Within one rise and setting of the sun, the mixture would take its effect upon the one or the many…or simply use a blend which would remove life within several breaths.” her tone lowered, one that could sound remorseful “... no, numbers do not deter Ky when he takes anothers coin and trinkets. We can only pray that he decides to keep to steel and arrow, not what he has learned about blending death.”

This was her worst regret in teaching Ky about a few poisons before understanding he used these for gaining palace coin. Fast acting and also those that have delayed effect. Mynx had already been exposed to the sedative ball so he had already displayed his willingness to use what she has taught him. She opened her eyes looking at an unoccupied spot in the room.

“He is not one that we want to fight with numbers. When the next sun rises, he will not be seen again till such time he is ready to collect the life he seeks.”

Vel withdrew her book quietly thinking over what Su lin said. Of course she’d know the man better she supposed. She frowned under her hood as she mentioned the lengths he would go to kill just one person. Barbaric. She thought before she dipped her quill in the ink and wrote again. “If not with numbers then with what?” she wrote before pausing glancing at the others. “Do you have a plan to keep the boy safe?” She had more faith in the members of the gallery but she had to say a plan was really better than winging it. “He’s your brother, you know how he will move better than the rest of us do.” She turned the book around so they could read.

Sheva just finished to clear the brows area of Mynx, adjusting and applying the coloring properly, as she leaned in to read the letters, “Is he a guy who likes to hide in the shadows and attack, or announce himself? I pray it is not the former, it will be such a shame… you know, him having such a pretty face, one should be proud of his beauty”, Sheva grinned, looking at Vel. While her hood was still down, from the little bits she saw of the girl, she notice lovely features and often wondered why she insisted on hiding herself. The words of Ky rang again in her head, and she considered bringing it up but decided not to, instead she said, “Don’t you agree Vel?”

As the conversation continued, Mynx listened in, thinking the only solution to the problem was to kill Ky. Unable to read Vel’s notes, she remained silent, watching with interest as Sheva continued to color her face. She was intrigued, but interacting with others in such a manner was not typical for her, making her social skills lacking. Whatever plan they came up with she was willing to follow, as long as she did not have to endure another of Ky’s sleeping powders. She tilted her head in query as the women voiced their opinions.

Vel snorted as she turned her book around and wrote once more. “As charming as a snake trying to sell you his venom as pricey spirits.” She wrote with some contempt.

“Indeed!”, Sheva grinned as she repeated the words in the book for Mynx’s sake, “Regardless, gems come in many shapes and forms, but I get not everyone sharing the same taste… so… my dear Velaire, what type of men do you fancy?”.

Vel was visibly taken back by sheva’s question. Why was that important? She closed her book with a shake of her head. She didn’t have a type, She couldn’t have a type. It had been so long ago when she was transformed and so young she hadn’t had a chance to find out, and now there was no point.

Having read Vel’s last entry in her book, a slight breath escaped Su Lin, could it have been a refrained laugh. Trying to regain her flat exterior appearance, with a slight giggle in her tone,

“A snake selling venom as pricy spirits, I believe you may have summed up my brother.” Her tone going a little more monotone and serious “As far as how to keep the boy safe, yes, I do know my brother, from the words he spoke to me when we first met, he may intend on giving me an opportunity to face him alone. Whichever of us remains in this life will continue on what our fate has laid out for us. Should I return from our meet, the child would be safe, at least from Ky. What troubles me more is how he speaks in riddles. There may be more to this play brings than what is before us. Like with anything Palace, there may be a darker ploy than even he was told.”

Su Lin’s demeanor softened slightly as she looked toward Vel watching the reaction from Sheva’s question. The woman obviously kept her appearance hidden though she was certain Vel was not Lycan, that would be apparent when the other Lycan was brought into camp. Vel did not display the traits of a Vampire or even Sorceress, even those with a price on their head display their form when within the safety of those they travel with. She had dismissed the thought of Banshee within the first day’s travel No, Vel displayed the mannerisms of an undead. Communicating with quill and parchment was one manner which undead speak, though not all undead knew this one, Su Lin thought she would try hand communication (sign language)

~Did that question make you uncomfortable~

was all she signed to Vel. If she was wrong, the girl would simply think Su Lin was making odd hand gestures to her, if she did understand - even if not offering a response, Su Lin watched her features closely for indication that the gesture was understood.

Sheva read the gesture… she couldn’t understand what Su-Lin asked, however it was rather obvious she tried to calm the spirits. Alas, Sheva wanted the opposite. It was rather rare sight seeing Vel so… emotional… it was rather… exhilarating… Licking her lips, Sheva pressed on, as she tried to force the girl to look at her and ignore Su-Lin, all the while still applying the makeup on Mynx, “Hmmm… I say… you are probably into the more… shy type… no no no… that feels wrong…. Maybe more… considerate… sensitive… maybe even… hmmmm ... sympathetic… kind hearted… but he still gotta be somewhat more proud and strong… am I right there”, Sheva grinned softly.

Vel cocked her head in the assassins direction, those odd hand gestures seemed as if they meant something, Much like how Yn had tried to communicate with her that night. However before she could put much more through into it Sheva spoke up again. How did they even get from talking about how dangerous Ky was to what kind of man she was interested in? She crossed her arms and shook her hooded head.

“Well… if I am wrong….”, Sheva grinned, “How about you tell us?”, Sheva tapped on Vel’s book.

Vel quietly set for a moment before she seemed to sight, opening her book once more and putting quill to paper as she thought it over. She didn’t think Sheva would be satisfied until she answered with something.

“Well…” She started writing. Where to begin?

“Adam is dependable and strong. But he seems distant and unapproachable.” But perhaps that was the case with most everyone for her.

“Bigwit is amusing and friendly, Easy to get along with.” The snow elf was a good friend of his and Vel felt that maybe if bigwit knew about her he wouldn’t make a big fuss about it.

“Ashvel is more like a brother to me, and Dagur more like a father.” She wrote. They were the only ones who knew without a doubt what she was and had accepted her for it.

She paused, thinking over the other men she’d known over the years. She wouldn’t make mention of her real family here, they had no place in her life now so they didn’t matter.

“Tarrok and I rarely interacted but he seemed kind enough.” Though truth be told she had avoided the orc shaman due to his… connections.

“Tristifer... Will have your back in a pinch.” she wrote slowly not sure how to address her feelings about the archer exactly. In a fight she was certain he’d have her back but he made her nervous. “But he’s a bit of an enigma.” He was hard to read, she could never tell what he was thinking. "He’s hard to read and it makes me nervous." She supposed there was no reason not divulge a little information, after all only they would see this.

“Yn and I have only interacted once but he’s…” what was he? “...Pleasant. in manner and looks” she wrote finely. “We made a good team during the bandit raid, he seems easy to be around.” While he made her nervous due to his obvious connection to nature she didn’t feel the need to avoid him. "In fact I wouldn't mind having another patrol with him.". And for someone who was so secretive and alone all the time that was saying something.

Vel shook her head, realizing she’d paused to long in writing about Yn. He really did seem very easy to be around and she wondered if they could continue growing a language of signs. “Balder Is easy to approach with almost anything, helpful and kind he’s extremely dependable though intimidating when angry.” that was a given though…

“And then there is Jamon.” She wrote. She’d watched the boy from afar but had yet to interact with him. “He’s...” she paused. “... has lots of potential.” she finished with a shrug.

“I don’t think I have a type.” she wrote finely. Not that it would matter if she did she could do nothing for them. “I care for each of the guild members, no one more or less than the others.” She turned the book around for sheva to read.

Sheva read aloud the notes for Mynx, while grinning madly. ‘Not having a type… pfff’, she thought to herself, the gesture about Yn’s didn’t escape her, but she didn’t say anything. It was a good information to be of use at some point, “There”, she told the Ocecat as she pointed her to the mirror, “What do you think?”

Before Mynx could respond to Sheva’s query, Shel burst unexpectedly through the door, clutching Balder’s finely carved tobacco pipe. The room had proven easy enough for the orc to locate, not because she had been trained in tracking since childhood, but more so because of the obvious trail of wall scratches that had been left by Mynx.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation,” Shel blatantly lied, as the huntress rarely felt contrite for anything. The orc then offered an affable nod in the general direction of Sheva and Velaire before turning to address the group as a whole. “The giant wants all of the women to rest together tonight—but not me, of course—and to stay in the Annex. You know… for your safety and such. Balder is worried about all of you after the raid and doesn’t want any of you going off alone.”

The she-orc then sauntered confidently through the room to give some nonverbal reinforcement to this announcement, all the while toting the large pipe along and acting somewhat vicariously, almost as if she was the giant herself.

And what was it that giants smoked, she wondered? Whatever it was would have to wait for a moment, though—as she had left someone waiting out in the corridor. So Shel simply made way for the table to set down the pipe, almost hitting Vel with it in the process, but gave the Hooded Mystery a cheeky half-smile. Perhaps this could be interpreted as an almost-apology, but the orc did not linger on this too long because she needed to properly explain the current situation to the rest.

“All of the men have stepped out...,” Shel clarified, turning her attention towards Sheva to gauge the mage’s reaction to what she was about to say next about the gentleman rogues, “...probably to seek women, truth be told.” Because after a fight, isn’t that the first thing males went for? It was the way of the he-orc anyway—I should know—and Shel did not think these other breeds would be too different in that manner. The same red blood flowed in them all, did it not?

But Shel digressed, suddenly remembering the one that she had left waiting beside the door in the corridor—the meek prisoner. Turning heel to disappear back out the door and giving no explanation as to why, the orc removed herself from the room for a few moments.

Some seconds later, Shel reappeared to darken the doorway of the women’s quarters once more, all the while muttering to the one who still hid in the corridor... just out of sight. It did take a bit of coaxing, but Selene eventually did step forward timidly, revealing herself to the others.

It was a situation that Shel had been unwillingly thrown into, as looking after this prisoner for the night had been briefed on short order. Either way, the last thing Shel felt like doing was explaining the little she knew about it, and her very gaze warned against any questions. Shel was just not in the mood to explain.

“Over here,” the orc then said quietly to Selene, still not actually knowing her name or much about who the woman was. Because the prisoner barely even spoke it seemed, saying very little to Shel in the walk over... despite the orc’s ardent attempts in getting answers.

All she had expressed, exhaustedly, was a desire for a bit of water and to sleep in privacy.

“You can sleep here,” Shel said, pointing over into the far corner of Vel’s room.

With that, the she-orc left the prisoner to rest, before taking a long drag of the giant’s tobacco. The inhale made her so light-headed that she let out a small giggle, despite herself. “Anyone who has an issue with this... well, feel free to take it up with the giant. Otherwise, I suggest you all get comfortable, because the rest should be here soon.“

Because in the last hour, Shel had been out herding in the remaining rogues, telling them to follow her into the as per Balder’s request, looking for a red sash that she had just tied on the door knob.

[Koti~]

"Yn, you still here?" Jezi asked after returning from the shopping. The conversation with Ky was still fresh in her mind, so she wasn't fully atune with what was going on around her. With her mind elsewhere, she almost walked square into the large man, only managing to stop just short of his chest. Yn himself had been in thought himself, just thinking through the healing method of Shel and the oddities of it. Hearing Jezi speak up, he looked up only in time to avoid running into Jezibel. They stated at each other for a few moments before finally Yn coughed to break the silence.

"Right! I got you a shirt for the library. Less people staring at you." Jezibel offered up the vest, making sure he put it on. It was a bit of a struggle, but the vest was rather well fitting and the black with gold pulled together well. Yn adrmired the outfit a moment longer before looking back to Jezi, a bit of a scowl forming his lips for just a moment. The two of them had yet to have a real chance to talk while on the road to Alreast so now was as best a chance to do so. Giving a wave of his shoulder, he motioned them into the town. Talking in the resting spot, while comfortable, would make things awkward there.

"So, about what you told me a few nights ago?" Yn started, seeing Jezibel stall just a moment before picking the pace back up. She looked to the ground, her face drawing blank as they walked. People gave them a wide berth as the two of them traveled silently in the town. Yn allowed the woman to be silent a few moments longer, but even he was getting tense waiting for a response.

"Jezi?"

"Yeah…. Yeah we should. In here." Jezi spoke up with a morose sigh, just before pushing him into a tavern. Several people looked to them as Jezi pushed them into a booth in the corner. She held silence as the waiter came over to them. She ordered two mugs for them and kept Yns attention for a few moments longer.

"What I said was true. I was a trench wife and ran. It was a while ago and I want to forget about it." Jezi spoke into her mug after it arrived, thankful that Yn had remained silent. He looked down at the mead before him, allowing the spices to flow through his nose as he glared at it.

"Well, i just want to let you know that I'll help you out if needed. Since we'll be traveling, I want to help protect,"

"It's not that simple Yn. I don't want to drag you into pointlese battles that should just be hidden. The black vultures had their tribes near the north, and yet I had to run so far away just to find myself a home away from them. Even if I wanted to return to my tribe, they couldn't take me. I was taken by right, so they couldn't defend me. I lost everything, and my own sense of self truth be told." Jezi spoke, both bitterness and emptiness mixing together. Yn felt similar to her, knowing the pain of losing family and friends alike. It was a bitter reality to hold onto the guilt that burned inside of one's chest.

"Hey, I know what it's like. I lost the tribe I should I have been protecting…"

"It's nothing alike!" Jezibel hissed at him, shocking the poor boy. The room grew silent for a brief second before the murmur continued around the duo. She allowed a sigh and hung her head, pained that she spoke so hurtful to the man. Loss was loss, and even then knowing the death still hung hard on his shoulders.

"I'm.. sorry. I didn't mean to speak like that. I know the sorrow of loss, but you don't have to see the resentment and pain in their eyes. My family still yet lives, but I would be a disease to them. If the vultures ever saw me return, they may attack to retaliate. I couldn't even make myself a family with that group as I've been tainted by them." Jezibel promised the young man, taking a swig of her second drink. She didn't want to get drunk yet, but the burn did help a lot.

"Hey, it's fine. Pain of loss and pain of death can feel the same, but they are different. But, you don't have to suffer alone. I know you have your own guild, and they seem like family. Here as well, with the group of people we travel with. You don't have to suffer alone with this." Yn spoke, trying to sound wise before getting a snort from Jezibel.

"Yeah, that would be a great conversation starter. 'Hi, I'm Jezibel and I was once a trench wife'. Great way to start making friends." Jezi spoke, knowing that he was trying. It did make her think of her team back home, wondering if they were doing well. She didn't even think Giblit knew about her. Would he still accept them with that knowledge out there. Suddenly her drink was feeling more sour than she remembered it.

"I know that look. You don't think they would accept you if they learned what truly happened with you and your past." Yn spoke, making her jump in surprise. Was the booze getting to her that badly? Even a young man before her was able to pick up on her thoughts that she usually kept so close to her chest.

"No, I can't read your emotions that well, but I've seen that look in friends and beast alike. No I'm not saying you're a beast, but… I told you that I was the grand matriarchs child, and as such I've seen people and animal alike cause pain to the family. There has been the rare occasion where a child and animal don't survive the bond, one every few years. The first time I could remember it, one usually survives while the other dies. The grief and fear in their eyes is the same you just had. They are still accepted in the tribe, as they were not the cause of the grief, just the unfortunate victim of bad luck." Yn spoke, seeming much wiser than his age led him to be seen.

"Well, if they don't I can always rough them up for you." Yn spoke with bravado, pulling a chuckle out of the girl with a dour look on her face. She let the smile hold for a breath longer before the corners turned down. This boy, as dumb as he was young, kept surprising her at each turn with how different he saw the world, along with how he acted to it. It would be very interested to see how the hardships of the world hit him, yet in ways it had.

"Thanks Yn. You keep showing me things I do not expect from you. You've given me some things to think on, but I want to be alone with my thoughts for it. By your leave though." Jezi asked her, setting a few coins on the table and finishing the last of her drink. Yn gave her a polite nod and took the last swig of his drink.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Unlike most of his comrades who decided running around shopping or beating on a foolish Prince were better uses of time Adam was a pragmatist. He found a small room that looked to be a Professor's office complete with a couch covered with a heavy white cloth. It had a nice view over looking the courtyard, he watched the interactions between Balder, Shel, and everyone, some of it looked quite heated, but he was too tired to care.

Moving at a snail's pace in his mind he was finally unpacked enough to be comfortable by the time Balder got the visit from the Elf boy and got dressed for some kind of meeting. Like the other discussions it didn't look good. He was sure he'd hear about all of it later, and somehow be tasked with remedying some of them. Balder was the Captain, but with Tris running after some tail or game of chance he was stuck with keeping the group held together when Balder wasn't around. But as a big yawn rocked his body he threw his bed roll onto the couch and barely had time to pull his boots and sword off before he was passed out face first on the couch.

His usual dreamless sleep was interrupted by flashes and disturbing images of the Spell Knights. Awakening from their tombs in the sealed ruins of the Dovg Clan breaking through the walls and wards keeping them locked away from the world. And as they emerged into the moonlight a bolt of fear shot through Adam's entire sleeping form. Each Knight glowed softly in the hazy light each scanned the horizon their movements slow and precise as if honing in on some distant firelight only they could see. The Iron Knight looked to the East and began running at unnatural speed it's lance cutting through the air, next the Steel Knight took a step to the North moving at a slower but unstoppable pace smashing through a large boulder with her devastating hammer, and lastly the Ebony Knight stared deadly into the West before he seemed to sense Adam's presence and quickly jerked it's head around the dead black slit in the helmet boring into the Hidden Prince's soul before he pulled a large, but ancient looking sword from his back swinging it at the man's sight forcing him to awaken with a start and dodge from the attack that was no where near him.

Adam fell to the floor of his room panting heavily his head and eyes swimming violently. But as he began hearing his ragged breath he knew he was still alive. It took him a few seconds to relax, but when he did he saw it was only an hour or so past sundown. He hadn't slept as long as he wanted, but it would be enough to carry him until he actually went to bed for the night. He groggily changed his clothes into something practical, but still protective. Rugged trousers, form-fitting shirt, a leather vest, black boots, his sword belt, and his new eye-patch. He splashed some water on his face and left his room moving slowly through the Annex building the images haunting him still even as he felt the cool wind on his face. A low voice filled his ears making him look up, the voice belong to Balder and he was singing a slow song to the animals in his native tongue. For those who have never heard the Giant tongue it can be quite the frustrating shock. Like everything the gentle behemoths do their native tongue is slow and incredibility low. Nearly below the register of humans to hear, but once you get past the frustration of waiting nearly a full minute to understand one word there's a strange beauty to it.

It was like listening to the wind blow slowly through the trees at night. The man had no clue what Balder was singing, but it sounded like a lullaby. And as he approached closer he saw that it was exactly that as the animals from Maso to Lulu and all the horses had gathered around the Giant and were laying down drifting off to sleep as he lightly drummed on the ground adding a steady beat to his voice. Adam smiled and leaned against the low gate listening until the Quartermaster stopped.
"A rare treat Balder, sad no one else was around to hear it." He chuckled approaching the smiling Giant.

"Well that is probably for the better, you know how we Giants love keeping our culture secret from you young blood races. Not that any of you could steal our language, but why let everyone know I like singing?" He chuckled low shifting his seated position painfully, healed or not he was still very sore.

Adam nodded approaching the big man watching the soundly sleeping animals. "I suppose, also I saw you get dressed up and wander off somewhere. Anything I should know about?"

Balder nodded slow leaning his head against the wall watching the evening stars come out.
"Yes, Dagur's sister is the Dean of the Library, and she is giving us free reign of researching as long as we don't cause trouble within Alegast's walls."

Adam's eye widened some and he let out a slow whistle.
"Well that explains why everyone looked like they wanted us dead when we got here."

Balder nodded looking at the man and quirked his eyebrow noticing the patch.
"Didn't know you got injured in the bandit attack Adam."

Adam absentmindedly lifted his hand to the patch almost forgetting it was there. Thinking quickly he nodded adjusting the strap. "Yes, not too bad I don't think, but best to keep it covered for a few days can still see out of it for the most part." He then cleared his throat changing the subject. "So I just came from the Annex, the place is empty. I hope the rest of our company isn't off doing anything stupid before we even get a chance to take up the Dean's offer."

The Giant nodded lifting his water skin to his lips to take a long sip. "Indeed, I sent Shel out to gather the women and find someway amuse themselves as long as they stay out of trouble before we all buckle in for the long haul of researching these Tears. Haven't seen any of our men today though, so I'll send you out with the same request. Gather up our men and let them get the stress of the past few days out of their systems. Be sure you grab Jamon too, the boy could likely use some time away from Mynx and Su Lin, but keep everyone safe my friend, and do you best to keep Tris from pissing off anyone important. If you can get our group back here before it gets too late, we'll be starting as early as possible. Some of us will be in the Library reading the rest will be working the town looking for supplies and whatever info they can about the Red Cloud of the Ice Nation Bandits, understood?"

Adam nodded quickly and tossed Balder a salute. "Will do my best sir, you just rest up. If you die I'll likely have to sell Tris to a local brothel to pay for your body's return to Stonestead." Balder let out a low rumbling laugh followed by a wince as he waved the warrior off going back to singing for the animals.

[P.K.]

‘So they are gonna have some… fun with women huh?’, Sheva thought to herself. For some reason the thought upset her greatly, but because she couldn’t point out why exactly she remained silent and her expression was unchanged.

Mouth snapping shut as Shel burst in, Mynx still had a smile on her face from Vel’s response to Sheva’s probing. She had her own thoughts on the men Vel had listed off...thoughts she would keep to herself for the time being. The smile slipped off her lips quickly as the orc brought the she-lycan into the room, all hopes of avoiding the dog’s stench now gone. She let out a low growl then turned her grey-blue gaze on the mage. Not wanting to appear rude and ignore the question posed of her, she looked into the mirror once more. “I think is nice...pretty...and smell good too...unlike dog,” she said quietly. Canine teeth exposed in her distress, she turned her attention to the Orc, her eyes narrowing as she stared hard at her. Although they had passed one another often enough in the camp, they had never interacted, and even now she found herself drawn to the woman’s appearance, as she had been to Tarrok’s, the prominent tusks the center of her fixation.

Huffing, she looked to Selene. “No dogs allowed,” she stated in a harsh tone, her nose twitching as she was distracted by the overpowering scent coming from the pipe. There were so many new odors in the room, not to mention the new faces to look upon, that her head was swiveling. The feline shook her head, trying to sort through everything. For her, it was a bit overwhelming. She inhaled again...deeper this time...needing a further distraction from the lycan. “What in pipe?” she asked. Every instinct cried for her to flee...or attack...but in current company she held back, her muscles spasming with anticipation.

Selene looked at the cat-woman with bored eyes, completely disregarding what she had to say. Whatever it was, she heard it before. Sighing, she meekly followed the orc and sat down where she was told. She didn't want to be here but her new master instructed it and she was still too tired to do much and so she had been passed among his companions until she ended up with the orc after the giant half bartered, half ordered it. Sighing, she pushed up against the wall with her back, eyes observing everyone here. At least she could get some intel into who her companions were.

Vel wasn’t certain why sheva was grinning so but it made her uncomfortable as she closed her book. However at that moment the Orc woman burst in and brought more unwelcome news… and apparently guests. She threw her hands up at the announcement that everyone was staying in this room before she had to duck to avoid being clocked by the giant pipe she was lugging after her. Vel gave a glare from under the hood, not that she could see it.

There was no way she was going to get any translating done now. She crossed her arms and slumped back against the table as she watched the Orc walk back into the hall and a moment later bring a new face into the room. Vel leaned forward as she heard the growl from Mynx. Yes she’d known they had some prisoners but she hadn’t paid much mind to them until now. She eyed the women from under her hood before looking to Mynx. Dog? Did that mean that women was a werewolf? Yet another cursed was in their midst.

Vel became slightly more tense as she watched the woman take her place in the corner before casting her eyes to the orc and watching her take a huge puff from the giants pipe and wondered how healthy that could possibly be. She leaned on one hand with something of a sigh. So all the men had stepped out had they? She wasn’t entirely sure she believed Shel though, Tris most likely Some of the others sure but Ashvel wouldn’t and she didn’t think Yn would either… probably.

As Shel entered the room with the rather huge pipe, Su Lin listened to what the Orc had to speak. A rather confident race, skilled in combat, she waited until Shel had finished speaking and took a hit on the pipe. She glanced over toward Mynx as she inquired what was in the pipe and the corners of her lips curled trying to refrain from a giggle. Her tone as casual as she could sound, knowing that many different blends could be in such pipes. With the effect the substance in the pipe seemed to have on Shel, Su Lin offered a statement/question

“Perhaps a calming blend?” was all she offered to Mynx before gazing in Shel’s direction, moving her hand to her chest, offering a slight nod “I do not believe we have formally spoken, my name is Su Lin, a pleasure.” Not really expecting much response from Shel, her curiosity was peaked into what was in the pipe the Orc had.

“She is Shel”, Sheva snapped before the Orc could speak, “It appears they found a perfect shepherd to guard us poor little lambs? Clever, but I don’t get the point of the pipe…”, Sheva shook her head. Were the men really so afraid they will cock block them or something? Cowards, pathetic fools. And why was Shel playing along with them? The whole situation caused Sheva to be angry, even though she couldn’t nail exactly why.

Peripherally, Shel considered the nuances of Sheva’s mannerisms (but otherwise appearing to be listening to the complaint from Mynx and greeting from Su), and noticed that the mage did not wince at her comment about the men. Good, the orc thought to herself, respecting that. Shel then gave Sheva a meaningful glance before turning to respond to Mynxella and Su-Lin, in proper order.

So Shel was somehwat surprised at Sheva’s abrupt outburst, which clearly showed that she was unable to hold her cool as she jabbered on about shepherds, lambs, and other meaningless drivel. Tilting her head, Shel had to stop herself from bursting into full out laughter at Sheva’s misconceptions.

More like a lamb in wolves’ clothing, Shel corrected the mage in silent retort, shifting towards Mynx to hand over the long pipe… to inspect or inhale, as she so wished. Shel could not exactly name what herbs it consisted held, but they smelled earthy and carried a hint of mint, offering up an interesting bouquet of fine fragrances and flavours.

“True,” the orc eventually repeated in light-hearted mimicry to Sheva’s upset demeanour, turning the introduction into a thing of pride, simply choosing to own it. ”I am Shel the Shepherd, and I’ve come to separate the sheep from the goats. I thought if we were stuck here all night, we all could at least use some entertainment after the raid,” the orc calmly suggested. Because if she had to endure Balder’s insistence that she remain with the ladies, she would at least ensure that it would not be dull… and make sure they all slept sweetly.

Firstly, the orc passed Balder’s pipe over to the ocecat, interpreting Mynx’s expression as one of interest. Secondly, she removed her outer cloak, revealing the largest flask of red wine she could find within the Rogue’s stock, handing this over to Su-Lin as an implied nice to meet you. Because wasn’t a bit of wine justified after such a vile attack? Shel thought so, at least... and irregardless of who would agree.

The dice that she then tossed onto the table were more of an anomaly, they being something that the orc had found lying on a random table in the Annex. “Let’s play Truth Dice,” Shel proposed as she glanced directly at Sheva, not in an unfriendly manner. Instead, Shel’s tawny eyes displayed a thankful recognition of the healing that the mage had administered upon her face… while also sporting the slightest hint of underlying goading that the orc could not help.

It was a tone that lightly mocked Sheva’s magical abilities, because such abominable power was something that was difficult for Shel to stomach. This person should not be able to force her speak things that made her uncomfortable.

Sheva grabbed the bottle from Su-Lin rather roughly, searching in her small backpack a glass into which she poured the liquid before handing it back to Su. She needed the strong drink, as the anger had increased within her, “Are we allowed to play games, Shel?”, she mocked as she drank slowly, wiping her lips with a napkin once she was done, “And such an exotic ale… Shouldn’t you keep us out of trouble, shepherd?”

Shel remained in a staunch silence as Sheva’s temper spiked once again. The fiery yet fickle display of raw emotion gave the orc a sense of utter bemusement, and it was all that Shel could do to keep herself from grinning outright now. What was that about? The men, or…what? Shel briefly considered if she had been wrong a moment ago about Sheva being able to face the more carnal behaviours⁠ of males. Learning to not bat an eye was essential when it came to understanding them—or better yet, beating them at their own games.

Mynx couldn’t help but pick up on the tension coming off the mage in waves. She tilted her head curiously, pipe now in hand, and lightly touched the woman’s arm. With a nod of her head, she offered the herb infused concoction to Sheva first, thinking the potent brew might help with her anxiety. For herself, she fumbled to remove the leather pouch around her neck, loosening the string that kept it closed and shaking out some of the contents. The dried herbs, mostly consisting of mint, littered the surface of the desktop and the feline used her finger to pick up the pieces, inserting them into her mouth slowly. The effect was almost instant, a charge of energy flowing through her lithe body as her pupils dilated. Like the adrenaline Su Lin had given her earlier, it helped to combat the effect of the sleep powder which continued to drag on her senses, the cat feeling recharged and ready for whatever the night held. She had no intention of sleeping, the presence of the lycan a constant on her mind.

Vel could feel the tension and she set back looking between the two women wondering where it was coming from. As always she remains silent but her attention was fully between the two as if she was ready to step between them should their tension become something more.

Taking over from where Mynx left off, almost as if the ocecat had just passed a baton, Shel once more addressing Sheva⁠—but this time in orcish. She just had to speak her mind or she would burst, but couldn’t bring herself to say these things in front of the others.

”Sheva,” she began slowly, each word pronounced carefully but deliberately, in a tone almost reminiscent of a shamanic curse of the orc. (Again, Shel had to hold back her laughter at these antics, because the irony of speaking to a human mage like this felt as enchanting as it was gratifying.) ”Daj zabroju na. Daj ŭ ruki niemy. Daj nam vočy gnatz. Yor ghaz breet—ba brudu ta ruki—pregu ŭ dakranucca bor naruk prikdarok. Ja vyratuju ciabie vyratuju siabie... klicha ŭ boj... z jraro taboj. Daj nam zniaviečanych karahod, lamant dular gat bres.”

Spoiler: True Translation 

Sheva. Listen to me. I am not your enemy. I even admire you. Because we are alike—too shrewd and selfish—but both able to look things in the eye and call them by their right names.

I can’t bring myself to quarrel with you… because you helped me… because you healed my face. But I find expressing gratitude as difficult as apologies, especially when speaking them out loud.

Shel then paused for a moment after speaking, soon proceeding to give a false translation of the orcish words, supposing that the room was wondering what she had said.

“I said… Are you done? Fine then. Go. There’s the door. Walk through it if you please. No one will stop you… not even me. I won’t even tell Balder you defied his explicit instruction,” the orc conceded before concluding with, “...although... I would like you to stay.”

Sheva inhaled the pipe and let out a long white smoke line move out of her lips. She hated smoking, but she needed to get some steam off. Literally. She nodded before giving it back to Shel. Now was not the time to fight indeed. Looking between the girls she realized she needed to get her fixed expression unchanged and cold again. She needed to preserve her reputation after all.

While she didn’t understand everything that Shel was saying in the clack and dialect of her tongue, as the orc language was extremely hard to master, and didn’t had direct clear grammar rules like the high elven speech, not to mention the way it sounded from Shel lips was even rougher than everything she heard before. However studying under her druid master was enough to enable her know few words, and at least get some of the idea. While she didn’t understand most of it, she could understand the She-orc’s will to not fight. She was also able to tell that Shel was not translating the words or that she was not telling the truth.

“I will stay”, she answered the ‘translation’ as a smirk spread across her lips, “And of course… we will play…”, she added, “Always better than a quarrel”, obviously Sheva was addressing the real words Shel spoke, but she figured poking a lioness was not wise right now, mainly when she waved a white flag of truce and definitely not many people were around them, none of which actually related to everything between the two, “So… What are the rules?”

“Rules for what?” Nalvhasèa asked as she approached the group of women before her. She hadn’t spent much time with the group since she decided to join them in their journey. Now seemed like a better time than any to try and get to know the people she would be traveling and fighting with. She could sense there was some tension among them, but thought it would be best to not mention it.

Vel looked between the two women, picking up on the orcish words. She raised a questioning eyebrow that no one would notice, what she said she said, wasn't what she said. Before she could think much more on it a new woman once more walked through the door to asking the question she herself was thinking.

Shel’s lips curled up around her tusks in a playful smile.

“It’s an orcish game,” she responded to both Sheva and Nalvhasea, killing two birds with one stone. “One that I used to play… a long time ago.”

What feels like a lifetime ago, in fact.

Pausing at this troubling thought, Shel extended her hand out towards Sheva, seizing the pipe from her to take yet another hit of the herbs. It was… so unnervingly strong, whatever it was that giant’s smoked… wasn’t it?

Because for a moment Shel grew incredibly dizzy, which in turn caused a momentary distraction from her explaining the rules of the game. Instead, she was attempting to pass the pipe back to Mynx… but finding this task difficult as she navigated through her fuzzy brain to focus on which ocecat was the real one. Because Shel was now seeing three ocecats… all thanks to the great headrush given to her from the tobacco.

Not entirely fluent in Orc, Su Lin did have a base understanding of what Shel had spoken. A refrained grin comes to Su Lin as she listens to the ‘translation’ offered by Shel. Ever proud this Orc was, she certainly would make this evening interesting. She set the wine to the side as she continued to keep watch on those in the room.

"This… looks like a nightmare waiting.." Jezi followed shortly after the new woman. Her eyes showed confused emotions, both at the odd sight before her, yet at the meeting between her and Yn. She felt relieved that they had addressed their conversation after the bandit raid, but she herself had been hoping to avoid and let that history pass unquestioned. Yn, for as kind and block headed he was, was good at remembering things she didn't want him to recall.

"I think I'll pass on whatever this is going to be." Jezi spoke to the group at large before she headed towards an empty chair to claim as her own and sat down. Taking up her spot Jezi looked over the group before letting her mind wander to different thoughts of her own.

The feline leaned forward as more women joined them, a slight scowl on her face when she saw Jezi enter. “I play,” she said despite the young woman’s decision not to join them. “I like truths. Cat no lie.” The blue of her eyes were mostly obscured by her pupils, her upper lip twitching. “I want food. We have meat?”

By this time, Shel’s vision had finally focused enough to pass the pipe to the ocecat, who was throwing questions at her like spears. Raaaaaaaaaaaaah. Why do I need to explain my actions all the time? “When I got the pipe and flask, I managed to gather a few bites, yes. But I had to be quick. So, erm, no meat. Just some stupid stewed plums… most likely elven,” the orc commented with a look of disgust before remembering the new recruit, Nalvhasea. “Erm, no offense. I also brought some sweet rolls from Balefire, and a few types of cheeses. But for mercy’s sake, don’t ask me what kinds there are... because I don’t bloody know.”

“As for the rules of the game, it’s simple,” Shel explained as she made her way towards Vel, focusing on her quill and pen. Shel’s gaze was all it took to clearly inform the Hooded Mystery that her writing utensils would be needed soon. “Essentially, every player comes up with one question that they want someone in the room to answer, with each question coinciding with a side of the die. Before each roll, the player must take a drink of wine and then… truthfully... answer whatever question goes along with their number. You can play as many rounds as you want, but that’s a good way to either pass out or start arguments… if you play the game right, that is. Lightweights only gamble with chance once, hah.”

Too bad it’s not with real coin, Shel thought to herself privately, before hinting at Vel to go around the room to quietly listen to and write down everyone’s questions.

“Sheva should roll first,” Shel said, unable to help herself, wanting the mage to answer something uncomfortable… hopefully. But the orc decided to leave it to luck and tossed the die to the mage, instead.

Sheva glared at Shel before narrowing her eyes on the dice and looking back up at Shel. Shel appeared to have some idea in the work, maybe something to trick her? Whatever she was planning Sheva knew it was not going to stop her from playing along. If Shel threw a gauntlet at her direction, Sheva was more than willing to raise up to the challenge. Besides she really needed another sip of ale. She lifted the cube up in the air and scanned it, “Number 4 has always been my lucky number”, she said slowly. Even though it never really brought much luck as far as she remembered, “I’ll pick it then. As for my question”, she looked up at Shel again, darts in her gaze, “Is there someone you hate? Something that the mere thought of makes your inward twist inside?”, she looked at the other girls, “If so, you must name it, and the reason for your hatred as well”, she said giving Vel the cube.

Vel wasn’t sure if she wanted to participate in the game but as Shel made her way over to her looking to her book and quill Vel had a pretty good idea why. She sighed realizing she was going to be a part of it anyways as she couldn’t let anyone else have the book in case the letters were discovered. She opened up the book to the page after her thoughts about the men of the guild and folded the book.

Sheva still seemed so… angry and Vel couldn’t fathom why that was. She listened to what Sheva said for her question and couldn't help feeling There was almost ulterior motives for this little game, between the orc and the mage. She took the dice as it was handed to her and began to write, marking down Sheva’s question before she pointed to the next woman in the room.

Before any of the other women spoke up, Su Lin while maintaining a straight face couldn’t help to think of some of the questions Sheva posed to Vel earlier. Her tone was flat though her playful side was beginning to come out, glancing slightly in Vel’s direction

“One - that is as good a number as I could think of, with one, the question shall be ‘Who would you marry tonight?” the ever slight trace of a giggle escapes before biting at her bottom lip to put on her shell of an appearance.

Vel stared at the usually stone faced women for a long moment not sure how she should feel about that question but wrote it down next to the number one before pointing at another woman in the room. After a bit of writing and waiting on each woman to think up a question or adamantly refuse Vel eventually had a complete list, including a question she felt compelled to add so they would have an even number and one for each side of the dice.

1. Who would you marry tonight?
2. Who is your secret crush?
3. What's your favorite sweet?
4. Is there someone/something you hate? And why?
5. Is there anything sordid in your past?
6. Biggest Regret?

She turned the book around so everyone could see before making a roll to determine when she would go, rolling a 5 she held out the dice for someone to take.

Having listened to the talk of drinking wine with each roll, though normally not one to drink to keep a clear head about her, Su Lin takes the wine and takes a small sip to allow the liquid savor in her mouth for a brief moment. Like any liquids, she is more determining if there are poisons in the liquid. Without the tell tale signs of numbness on her tongue a poison would produce, she proceeds to take a healthy drink.

As the liquid warms her stomach, she picks up the dice to see which order she would roll for the question roll. She looks to the odd shaped dice and whispers softly to it as though it were a close friend

“Provide me a large number my friend…” before shaking the stone in her hand as she had seen several males do in other games of chance. She releases the dice and watches as it displays a single dot.

“DAMN!” she uncharacteristically blurts out as she grabs the wine again taking another rather larger swig. Her face already growing red, she looks to the other women and softly offers

“So that is how the thing is rolled? That is interesting, so when do we really roll for question order?” trying to recall how maidens would offer cute words trying to avoid obligations. With that, she took another gulp of the wine before setting it on before her so as to allow others to partake on this oddly stimulating liquid.

Pipe in hand, Mynx took a hit of the odd tobacco, looking at the die’s roll, then to Su. “You answer question?” she asked curiously, not sure how to take her friend’s attempt to distract the others away from the result of her toss. “You have one...who marry?” Trying to keep her expression neutral, the feline bit her lower lip, a light chuckle escaping her regardless. She put her hand over her mouth as her laughter erupted, the sound unusual even to her own ears. “I sorry Su…” she said between breaths, “...but not see you as wife.”

With Mynx question, Su gets a panicked look over her usually serene features. She quickly grabs the wine taking another swig thinking this liquid provides her a calming sensation. The wine bringing her skin a rosy red so the blush at the question not that evident. Quickly she counters her friends inquiry

"No Mynx, we roll now to see order of who will roll wif the thing. I not answer THAT quesin, only see order, not qeshtion yet."

Su Lin folds her arms across her chest looking at the dice as though it was her mortal enemy. Silently she prays her question would be who she hates so she could announce how she now hates that damnable rock she just rolled. In a slightly huffy tone

"Someone kan now rol that stupid rock." Slightly swaying as she looks toward that round thing on the floor dreading if that THING would come up with a single dot on her question roll.

Mynx eyed Su suspiciously after her explanation, not sure if the woman was joking or not. Finally she nodded and got to her feet, looking at the pipe in her hand for a moment before handing it off. “I get cheese. Need food...head feel funny.” She glanced at Su with a smirk, then turned away. “You marry Adam...he like stubborn women,” she declared with another chuckle.

“Yes, he does…” Shel commented in an off-handed whisper, after seizing the pipe once more to blow a billow smoke in a way that almost looked artistic. (As it were, the prominence of orcish teeth caused tufts of smoke to branch out in quite peculiar ways when they smoked, unlike the elven or human.)

As she partook this time, however, Shel could not take her eyes off of the sleeping Selene, wondering why the woman had refused to speak, much less run away. She suddenly felt as wave of empathy wash over her, and felt sorry for having forgotten to get her a small bit of water.

“It’s my roll,” Shel said as she grabbed the die, throwing it down confidently to take her own chance at luck. “Two,” was all she whispered as she instinctively glanced towards Velaire.

Vel watched the antics already starting to unfold as the wine was passed, raising an eyebrow at Su lin before taking down the other’s rolls. Once everyone had rolled to see when they would go she’d write the order:


Order of play

1. Su lin
2. Shel
3. Sheva
4. Mynx
5. Vel
6. Nalvhasea

Once done penning it down she looked to Su lin who had rolled a one and so was the first to roll for a question.

As the rolls are complete and the question roll is ready, Su Lin reaches for the die before staggering forward slightly keeping her balance. She grips that rock in her hand gazing upon it much as she would one she would remove from the living. Recalling a language Hawk was teaching her that others did not seem to understand, she raises the die looking dead at it, swaying slightly, in the language Hawk used when wanting to speak privately to her even in the presence of others, unusual hostility in her tone

"Be a single dot again, I will end you!"

before tossing the wicked thing to the ground. It takes a moment for her eyes to focus on the dots on the die, six, a silly giggle escapes as she smiles down at the die she successfully threatened. She looks in Mynx direction

"Six! I do not has to marry anyone tonight." Standing with her arms proudly folded across her chest and a quirky grin before looking toward the book on the question she is to answer.

'Biggest regret?'

Such a simple question … for some. Drifting off in thought, she can think of so many. Her arms drop to her side staring blankly at the parchment with quill ink on, a similar question which Hawk once asked her during a tea. For the here and now however, with Ky around using what she has taught him about toxins, she mumbles

"Teaching my brother."

Her thoughts drift back to the conversations she and Hawk would have, the strange way he would speak to her alone compared to when with his men. She slowly closes her eyes a moment, her biggest regret? She thought there were many, perhaps her biggest was each time she would walk off after having a pleasant discussion with Hawk. Could her regret be not spending more time with Hawk?

She slowly opens her eyes, the whites of her eyes now red. She softly mumbles

"Thas my ansher, next…"

taking a moment to gaze in Mynx direction recalling the joking Mynx made when she saw how Hawk was around Su Lin. No, that was some time ago, much has happened since then, surely that memory has past with all the other Mynx has gone through since. Su Lin looks toward the Orc tapping the die with her foot in her direction, almost losing balance at the same time.

With that, Su Lin takes another sip of wine, mind drifting on the times she and Hawk spent talking over tea.

Vel wasn’t sure how well the assassin was taking her wine as her words were already slurred and she had only two swigs. She looked to Shel as the orc acquired the dice and proceeded to roll the dice landing promptly on a two.

“What twat thought of this?”” was all the orc could think as she considered answering the random question, one that gave her pause. Who do I care for?

What a very difficult thing to answer.

Yet her mind immediately went to Nazrak, her once preferred mate, the he-orc being someone that she did not feel like mentioning here… much less his uncontrollable brother, Rhok.

But then there was Balder, remembering the giant suddenly… to her own surprise… as warm feelings bubbled up in her core. (Ones that she knew she must immediately squash for multiple reasons.)

He was so kind to her, even if Shel tried to ignore that aspect of him for the most part… because how could a giant’s good will ever get her what she wanted? Any gentle contentment from Balder could only work against her overall goals, quite frustratingly, as it was his body and not his feelings that she needed to roughen up a few orcs in her own personal vendetta.

It was all just so upsetting.

Because what is the point of being a giant if you don’t stomp around and use your superiority as you please? What else is the purpose of such great size? Shel wondered, her mind going off on a rather tipsy tangent. If the gods were any bit gracious they would have made me a giant!

“Infatuation is dangerous,” Shel then stated bluntly. “So I only look for sex, and the last person I did that with is Nazrak, an orc hunter from my tribe,” she lied as she mentally blocked out Rhok.

Vel listened to the orc for a moment supposing she was right, it could be dangerous. She looked to Sheva motioning for her to take the dice as it was her turn to role. And then it was Mynx and then it was her own turn, she could only hope she didn’t role one of the more, intrusive questions, but they all seemed to be exactly that accept for her own so she was probably out of luck.

Nalvhasèa had taken a more quiet role in the group, just sitting back and watching the women interact with one another. Some of the questions and answers made her chuckle quietly, but she wasn't keen on the rules of the game. She wasn’t about to drink or smoke with a bunch of people she didn’t know considering the circumstances as to why the group formed.

Sheva took a mouthful of liquor and drank another 3 cups fill, “What’s that about… a … sweet… sweets… sweetness..”, She began laughing, “Aromatic, sweet… like energy… Ad-”, she blushed in bright crimson before she quickly added, “Apple! Apples! Caramel… muscles… no no… Caramel…. Apples… sweet… energy”, she laughed some more as she drank another cup and passed her drink to the next person around her.

Funnily enough Sheva rolled her question, she seemed a little tipsy to but she’d downed at least four cups by now. She was tempted to take the alcohol away from the mage but thought better of it as she picked up the dice and held them out to the feline women. Perhaps a little more interested in the game now than she was before.

It was difficult for Shel to not react to Sheva’s response, but she resisted nonetheless. Instead the she-orc gulped, feeling rather light-headed and silently hoping for the wine and tobacco to put these ladies to sleep soundly.

With a quick glance at the women around her, Mynx took the offered die and grabbed up the cup of wine before anyone else might think to take it. She went over the rules in her head...drink...then roll. Putting the cup to her lips, she swallowed the contents in one gulp, her face pinching up from the foul taste before she smiled. Alcohol had never been her cup of tea, but she would keep up with the rest of them. Not wasting another moment, she tossed the die.

Diverting her attention downward, the feline saw the dots staring back at her menacingly. “Two…” she said with a soft growl. It was her own question. Easy enough...she hoped. At least she wouldn’t have to think too hard, her mind circling from the mixture of mint, tobacco, and drink she had already consumed. She let out a heavy sigh, remembering her vow not to lie, before giving her answer.

“I like many...like Shel...enjoy sharing warmth. But also have had many in camp...so not include them in crush?” She chewed her lower lip, small pinpoints of blood beading up where her canine teeth punctured the soft skin. She licked away the moisture then smiled again. “I say beast man. He smell good...like animal...and has lots of fur. Plus, can purr like cat. Yn my crush...even if very young and pure.”

She leaned back in her chair, satisfied that she had answered well. It was too bad Tarrock had left the camp, he also would have been a good choice.

“Vel now,” she said with a smirk, staring at the zombie with half closed eyes.

...many like me?

Shel, despite her previous response, felt a bit offended at the notion of the ocecat somewhere deep down… but still kept silent about it. Perhaps the orc did care more than she had admitted out loud?

Vel listened to the Ocecat’s answer cocking her head. Hum, she supposed she had to agree, Yn was a good candidate for a … crush. But not for the reasons the feline mentioned. Vel sighed picking up the dice and taking the wine, though it did very little to her as she carefully took a swig from behind her mask and tossed the dice.

Favorably she landed on her own question, the least intrusive of them all. She took her book and wrote quietly. “Anything with blueberries in them.” she could imagine her mouth watering at the idea, but unfortunately she simply couldn’t taste it like she used to. “Fresh warm blueberry bread or fresh blueberry pie.” she could practically smell it… the thought was slightly disheartening as she turned the book around to reveal her answer to everyone.

Nalvhasea who had been content to be quiet and observe the women up until now took the dice and rolled a one. The elf raised an eyebrow as she looked to the corresponding question. She was silent. The only male she’d really truly met was Jamon and he hardly seemed like marrying material. She’d briefly met Balder as she had joined the group in travel.

She opened her mouth finely. “I don’t think I can say.” she said finely. “I don’t know your men as well as you all do. So I suppose I’ll have to honestly say, no one.” She took the dice and held them out to Su lin. “Another round?” she asked.

[Storm]

Still rubbing his head, Jamon moves his hand to his chest nodding his head slightly as that awful girl does offering in a hesitant tone

“I shall bring the new girl Master Barton.”

With that, Jamon moves over to where his sword still lies upon the ground and picks the steel back up placing it back in the sheath across his back. Unlike that awful girl who does so with effortless ease, it takes Jamon several tries before slowing down and replacing the sword in the sheath. With swelling starting to take form about his head and his hand still in pain from one on the last strikes from Tris’ bow, Jamon makes quick pace back into the Annex to locate the new girl Tris brought to camp before their travel.

It was a few minutes of looking through the annex rooms before Jamon happened upon the room Selene was occupying. As he took one step within the room, he paused for a moment looking upon the pretty girl. Were it over a week past, he might offer some word upon how pretty Selene was however he was quickly finding out that like a rose, pretty things could draw blood. With his thoughts drifting for the briefest moment, he offered on as best a formal tone as he could muster, still a slight rasp in his voice, how did that awful girl start when she spoke to those she made first aquanitence with again? Jamon moves his hand to his chest, nodding slightly

“Gentle day Miss, I have been sent on Master Barton’s stay to bring you with me into town.”

Jamon’s eyes focus on the pretty girl hoping that he spoke the words correctly and she would be receptive to them.

Selene yawned and curled up on the soft blankets, tucking her broken arm in such a way that the throbbing was minimal. Her nose took in a fresh scent and an elegant hint of spices coming from the material, beckoning her to continue sleeping. She was almost ready to tumble back into oblivion, smiling softly at her current comfort but something slowly was creeping up on her. Not physically but a memory, a thought, a gentle nudge to wake the hell up and figure out where she was. Her eyes fluttered open and she observed the area - a clean, plain room with a large window and delicate curtains, a pair of heavy material ones tied to the side away from the sunlight. The bed was indeed soft and big, full of pillows and thick blankets. The one she was currently snuggling atop was a rich blue color with golden fringes.

Sitting up, groggy and cradling her freshly rebandaged arm, the young wolf yawed and blinked away the sleep, taking in the unusual smells of the city. It wasn’t one she visited earlier so maybe there was a new mission here, one that Jameyson wanted her to complete for one reason or another. The sun was shining through the window past its prime, signaling that it was not morning. How long had she slept? Her mind was still slow, a sign that she slept more than usual, something that never really happened.

The girl’s eyes grew large, memories of the previous night coming back. Her master was dead, Jameyson was dead. She remembered his dead body, broken, laying cold on the ground with blood surrounding it, his surprised expression at his own death. Then there was the man….he didn’t kill her. Didn’t even disarm her - he simply forced her to feel useless, a failure. And when she tried to attack him, she wasn’t able to land a single blow. For the first time, another human had beaten her. She should have been dead but….but what?

She was alive and bandaged up enough that her arm was not hurting her unbearably. Her weapons were all with her and she was allowed to sleep since the vampire doctor had patched her up. Somehow, she ended up in this place, probably carried by one of the strange people who captured her. Was she a captive? If so, why wasn’t she in chains? Shaking her head, Selene swung her legs to the side of the bed, her feet sinking into the carpet on the wooden floor. For a moment, she looked in awe at the unbelievably soft material, wiggling her toes. During her days with Jameyson, she rarely had the luxury of sleeping under a solid roof, let alone staying in a room that didn’t smell of cigars, cheap whine and barf. Wherever she was, it felt absolutely surreal.

Her eyes lifted up to look around her. The room was simple, providing only the necessities but tastefully put together. A bedside table made of sturdy wood with brass handles stood near the bed, an empty vase residing upon it, painted with images of birds. A large dresser, similar to the table, haunted the far wall, simple and contrasting with the white washed background. The sun peeking in from the window created dancing shadows upon the rough floor and the pile of bags in the corner. Selene frowned - those were definitely not hers. Curious, she slowly stood up and started to make her way, careful not to make a sound. She was almost by the strange belongings when the door burst open and she jumped, turning in midair and barely landing on her feet as the intruder walked in.

He was tall enough for a human, with pale eyes and dark hair. Dressed in regular clothes, he seemed genuinely…. simple. Selene tilted her head, trying to understand who in the world this child was. He was definitely not the man that had defeated her earlier, be it a day or a week. Nor was he the vampire healer - his smell of sweat proved him a typical stinky human male. Was this a joke, an insult? Did these strangers that captured her really think that she was so weak as to send a boy after her? She really must have looked dead if they acted to recklessly. Or maybe this kid was just too annoying and they finally devised a plan to kill him - murdered by a lycan in broad daylight as she tried to escape. For a second, her eyes danced with a killer’s fire, savoring the way his blood would spill from his broken chest, her hand reaching down, ready to grab the hilt of a knife.

His words made her stop, blinking in confusion. How was he so calm? Or did they not tell him everything? Did that man - the archer who had defeated her and carried her to camp - know who she was? Who was this Master Barton anyway and what did he want? The amount of questions quickly dampened Selene’s rather benevolent mood. The boy looked at her as though expecting her to curtsy and comply. Perhaps, if she had a master who gave an order, she would have done so but now she just stared at him, trying to understand what she was missing in this situation. Maybe he was just suicidal? The swelling and bruised definitely wanted to prove that thought correct.

As Selene seems to be staring at him and not moving, Jamon’s first thought was
‘Have I spoken stupid words again as Master Barton put it…’

Mayhaps the girl before him was not made aware of the trip to town so to obtain a crossbow for him. His own features betrayed one not knowledgeable of the danger before him. Though his body showed years of growth, his demeanor and gaze was that more of an innocent child. As Jamon struggles to correct what he believed was a mistake spoken, he offers

“Please forgive my words, I was of thought that you were already aware Master Barton, Sir Tris as he in known, and I were traveling to town to purchase a crossbow for me. I then could assume you are not an armorer?” trying to recall the title Father gave those whom provide the Knights their weapons “... please forgive my assumption my lady. Allow my introduction, my name is Jamon…” a slight cringe comes to his features “...though Master Barton speaks my name as Peanut.” before trying to resume a formal appearance “If you will do me the honor of become at the ready and accompany me to see Master Barton, he does wish you in town with us.” now with a slight reddening of his face still easily embarrassed.

Having regained her own calmness and now assessing the situation with the lightning speed of a hunter, Selene watched the boy without blinking, her face not showing any emotions. What had he done to be so...sacrificed? Was he just stupid and this was a casual way of Master Barton, Sir Tris to encourage survival of the fittest? Honestly, how hard would it be to just flick her wrist and send the knife flying, to maim or kill, no matter. Then slip down the corridor (picking up the knife on the way), disappearing in the city streets and stealing away once the sun set low enough out of the civilization.

Rolling her shoulders, she slowly pulled out the knife, smirking at her own thoughts, revealing elongated fangs as she watched the youth’s face grow more and more red. Come here little doe, she cooed in her mind, taking a step towards him, her feet making no sound. This was just too easy.

As Selene drew her knife and started across the floor as silently as Su Lin could, a pang of fear gripped Jamon for a moment, the awful girls words coming to mind
‘A quiet predator will remove you from the living before you know…’

Once again a pretty girl shows herself to be a dangerous threat. Unlike days past, even with a fear gripping him and beads of sweat forming upon his forehead, this time there is no crying, no begging, no calling for a loyal protector, this time as practiced with that awful girl, Jamon takes a step back reaching behind his shoulder sliding his sword from the sheath. He brings the sword to his front. It would be clear this was not a typical broad blade sword men carry, the blade is thin and well constructed, often carried by females or assassins. There would be a unique inscription on the hilt, completely oblivious to Jamon however dependent on Selene’s travels, she might recognise the region this steel this doe holds was crafted. There is an uneasiness in his tone not consistent with those who typically hold such steel, a slight tremble in his hand which were Su Lin or Tris present, would earn him a thump on the hand with a staff or bow

“Miss, I must ask you to stay your approach.” hoping he spoke the words correctly realizing he is nowhere ready to confront a skilled warrior this pretty girl apparently is.

An acorn whizzed past Jamon's head bounced from one wall off another toward the back of Selene's head. About the time the seed would make contact, Tris thumped the boy on his head. "Oi!" The archer said loudly. "I said fetch the girl not wave your steel at her. And if you want to stab the boy go ahead, I'll feed you to the cat one piece at a time.

"Well?" The archer said crossing his arms and looking from one to the other. "I don't have all day."

Looking nervously toward Selene, he notices an object wiz past his head about the same time he feels a slap on the back of his head causing his head to jerk forward slightly. Hearing Master Barton’s words, Jamon reaches his sword behind trying to slide it in the sheath effortlessly … which fails the several times he tries so reaches his free hand to steady the sheath. Once his sword is in the sheath, with the previous thumps which are now nice knots on various locations on his head, offers

“I am ready Master Barton, as you may have noticed, I was having some trouble speaking to the pretty girl, I wrongfully took assumption she was aware of our quest into town.” now looking to Selene hoping that she was not going to continue at him with the blade in her hand.

Selene felt more so than saw something aiming towards the back of her head. Jerking out of the line of trajectory, she tried to catch the acorn in flight but her fingers just missed the nut and instead it bounced across the floor, finally resting at the edge of the super soft carpet she admired earlier. Watching it for a second as though it was planning to attack her, she lifted her eyes up to the older man. Unlike the youth who now looked a little baffled, this man was familiar, from the bow in his hand to the confusing colors of hid eyes to the smell. Yes, this was the man who bested her - was she his prisoner?

Ignoring the blabbering of the younger man - Bait, she decided to call him - she focused all her attention on reading the newcomer. So this mysterious Master Barton was her….who? He had beaten her and she faintly remembered him carrying her to camp and then….he hadn’t been around for a while or she simply didn’t remember him anywhere near her. He threatened to feed her to a cat - must explain the scent of an angry feline stalking the perimeter. The dagger didn’t return to its place, but she tilted her head, trying to read the man’s expression.

As Selene still held her dagger, a fleeting thought went through Jamon’s head, although she did not have fir like Mynx, he wonders if this pretty girl simply did not understand what Master Barton was telling her. Recalling there were times he had to speak a little slower with Mynx as human was not her primary language, Jamon wishes to show Master Barton that he can still handle this situation, after all, it might be merely a communication matter.

Holding his hand up for Selene to see, he starts making a stabbing motion with his empty hand while pointing at his hand with his other. He then moves the hand he made the stabbing motion with a moment earlier to his waist. His tone flat while slowly emphasising his words

“Master …. Barton …. say …. put …. steel …. away …. Miss….”

A look of dismay comes across his face as he apologetically offers
“I beg your forgiveness Miss for I never properly obtained your name, as I offered earlier, I am Apprentice Jamon, and might I know your name Miss?” naturally assuming the pretty girl simply was acting defensive toward him as he may not have provided her a proper introduction.

Selene didn’t respond, only her fangs showcased in a warning, all her attention still fixated on the archer. When the Bait spoke again, she lazily flicked the dagger in his direction, immediately reaching for another dagger. She didn’t even look to see if she hit him - she knew perfectly well that his jacket would now have a solid rip in it. If the little child couldn’t take a warning, her next throw would be his demise.

Watching the girl, Tris saw her hand flick. His empty hand shifted. Grabbing the head of the falcon on his bracket his own hand flicked forward; The hidden throwing knife intercepting the girls throw with enough force to slow and create a tumble.

As the girls blade fell short, the archer shrugged. "Alright, if that's what you want. Maybe the giant won't accidentally drown you when he dumps you in a trough. Let's go boy."

Tris motioned the boy to leave. Watching the girl, Tris comments. "Getting hard to breath with the stench anyways."

Jamon had been watching Selene’s dagger as that awful girl had always instilled into him. In the early days of training when she threw stones at him hitting him at various locations, she would mutter ‘If this were steel, this is where your blood would feed the soil…’ Selene was incredibly close yet Jamon was about ready to try and avoid the dagger when the archer negated the pretty girl’s throw.

Jamon thinks back on something else the awful girl would tell him and thinks now is the time to listen to this advice
‘There are times thoughts in your head need to stay there and not flow from your mouth.’

As Master Barton motions to him, he decides to keep his words in his head still expecting a thump on the back of his head or the bow to strike his head. He steps back before following Tris hoping that the pretty girl does decide to follow. Biting at his bottom lip, he is a little too nervous to ask Master Barton how he should have approached the pretty girl, his approach having miserably failed.

Her eyes narrowed but she didn't do anything when the youth silently obeyed, looking at the archer. "Why? You left me alive - there won't be a ransom for me. So why am I here?"

As Jamon moved to leave Tristifer entered the room and collected both blades. "If you're going to wax philosophical, do it without the blade. Otherwise people will take you for a cultist who will eventually demand human sacrifice. If you are seriously asking then again it's best to be blade free. Lest you find yourself disarmed, bound and the person who let you keep both blade and life considers using one to grant your apparent death wish."

As he spoke he deftly returned his blade to its hidden sheath. The girl's blade Tris spun across his knuckles. "Alternatively, you can instead find yourself thankful, choose to cooperate and end up not dunked in a horse trough by a giant to be cleaned before being dumped into the nearest cell. If so better catch up quick." Tristifer turned and started after the young man.

Before he's gone more than a step he stopped and spoke without turning back. "Oh, before I forget. You ever point another weapon in the general direction of me or my associates and you will never have to ask why you are still alive again." With that said the archer left the building and started towards the town.

Selene growled but he was gone and she was intrigued. If he was the one who kept her here, mayhap he needed her for something. It beat staying in a cell where she would easily be picked on - she saw it often enough, men getting angry at her with her background when she was down. They would beat her and kick her, trying to inflict pain on her that they perceived her kind to inflict on the world around. This was different - he didn’t threaten or get angry, he simply laid down his rules that she was to follow. Of course, it sounded like a choice but he made it clear that her choice was only to obey like a dog or be drowned like one. With her current state, she doubted that swimming was beneficial to her health.

Giving a small whimper of exasperation, she hung her head and followed out of the room, dragging her feet for a few steps in denial, the perfect image of a reluctant mutt.

Stepping back into the open air, Jamon looked up into the sky, it did seem that it would be a pleasant day which would make this quest to find a new object to train with. Though never holding a crossbow, Jamon was familiar with these. Father’s Knights would use them in conjunction with the archers. ‘Yes, this crossbow would be one that even I can not mess up’ drifts through his mind as he awaits Master Barton and hopefully the pretty girl.

His mind drifts as the warmth of the day’s sun surrounds him as he lazily puts his hands on his pockets. His thoughts drift wondering what Miss Jezibel was doing as well as what that awful girl that has given him so much torment since the first day she happened into his existence was doing. A slight chuckle to himself as the thought of ‘Miss Su Lin must be thinking of more ways to torment and belittle me…’ as the corners of his lips betray the slightest hint of a smile.

Selene caught up to the man she assumed was her new master, a quiet shadow behind him and to his right, her eyes weary and looking at everything around them. As they stepped outside, she ducked her head away from the sunlight, cringing and blinking back at the light. As her pale eyes adjusted, she caught the youth chuckling to himself with a sappy expression painted across his features. Silently growling, she didn’t do much, glancing from under her eyelashes at the archer.

Tristifer moved through the streets of Alegast, weaving his way through the crowds gathered around the various stalls. The archer would occasionally stop at a stall, though anyone paying attention would notice the archer wasn't looking at the wares, but rather watching the stalls owner. There were a few times Tris would ask an unusual question; One question ended up leading into a short conversation with a robust seamstress.

Afterwards the archer lead them on and down a street filled with the clanging of hammers. His eyes scanning the buildings; Finally the archer came to a stop before a shop tucked a little back from the street. "Try to keep quiet for once." Tristifer said to the children following him.

Following Tris, already having decided he was going to try to remain silent and follow Master Barton's lead - Jamon followed along as Tris visited the various stalls and spoke to an assortment of people, the seamstress reminded him of a tavern maiden Sir Falstskog once went into an extended overnight discussion with to find passage back to Father - so he said. There were many a night Jamon would remain in the safety of the cramped abode his loyal servant secured for the night while sir Falstskog bravely would wander the darkness of the night to offer his guard so the young master could sleep in safety. The perfumes his loyal protector would smell of in morning light were never questioned.

As that awful girl drilled into him was being aware of what was around him. This was finally something he started doing. Jamon was certain the eyes upon them were due to Master Barton or mayhap the pretty girl in their company.

As Tris instructed their silence, Jamon simply moved his hand to his chest nodding slightly, a trait he was picking up from that awful girl. As they moved off the main street, Jamon started feeling more at ease, the busy stalls made him uncomfortable. Jamon glanced over to ensure the pretty girl was still with their accompaniment.

Walking a half step behind, Selene tried to stay out of view while looking around at everything with large eyes. She rarely had the opportunity or the need to look at all that was sold in cities, Jameyson often hiding her away and smuggling her around like a rabies infected animal or a sought for criminal. Frankly, it was as much as to keep her secret as to ensure the relative calmness and acceptance of the people he worked with. Most rogues and bandits, even corrupt merchants who knew her value, were rather distraught whenever the young lycan strode among them. Still cowering a bit and unsure of where she was, avoiding the hustle of the people in the street and trying not to meet anyone’s eye, the girl allowed herself to finally see a bit of the foreign world around her.

Clothes of a variety of colors blinded her with brilliance, resembling the colors of butterfly wings and the ocean’s breeze, the fallen golden leaves of autumn and the winter sheer frost. They moved in different ways too - the heavy velvets and weight-less silk, the slightly fluttering cotton and wool, the heavy leather sometimes studded with metal. Some stalls contained bottles and bags of different dried spices and fruits, the aromas tickling her nose that she ended up sneezing quite a few times prior to finally appreciating the different and foreign scents. Jewelry, gold, precious stones, animals, medicines, fancy fruits - each stall seemed to possess more absurd things than the previous one. Eventually, however, her new master made a turn down a less busy lane and Selene finally let out the breathe she didn’t know she had been holding in.

She nearly collided with the man as he stopped but quietly steadied herself, her reflexes quick and beast-like. Looking around curiously, her lips curled up into what was a shadow of a bemused smirk. This seemed more like the areas where Jameyson let her roam free, fulfilling his bidding one way or another. Silence was not a strange notion to her but the youthful abomination with them - she glared at him, ready to show her canines again but the direct order from the man still echoed in her mind. Drowning was not something she wanted to experience.

Having received what little acquiescence as he expected, Tristifer gave a nkd and turned to the building. He lead the party into what appeared to be your basic blacksmiths shop, if strangely one that looked bigger on the outside. After a brief scan the archer approached a large heavily muscled man. "Fetch Rolo; We have business."

The proprietor studied the trio before motioning the way they came. "No Rolo here."

Tris skirked and muttered, "Why do the new ones always play this game." Turning his smirk into a smile the rogue repeated himself slower and louder. "I need to talk to Rolo, open the door."

The blacksmith's eyes narrowed, "There is no Rolo here."

Tristifer reached over and grabbed an iron rod, turning he threw it at a wall used to display various horse shoe styles. All but one shoe tumbled to the ground as the wall shook, the mundane half rusted shoe didn't move at all. Turning back to the smith the archer pointed to the wall. "You're going to open the door, one way or another."

The black smith offered a dark smile, before cracking his knuckles. However before the blacksmith could take a step a small little man interceded. "Tristifer, so nice to see you again."

"Especially since you knew that thing you sold me wouldn't work?" The archer offered off handedly, his eyes on the blacksmith.

The little man froze and llicked his lips, his eyes darting between the archer and the blacksmith; Weighing the odds as he did so. "It didn't wor-"

Tristifer's hand motioning to Jamon interrupted the little man. "The youth would like a crossbow." He started.

"Of course," The little man started, "Everything in Rolo's shop is for sale, as sell is what Rolo does. What does the young mas-"

"He needs a crank reset," The archer interrupted turning his eyes to the little man, "Specifically the one I said might be worth looking at."

"Of course, a discerning marksman like yourself knows his weapons." Rolo said, "Unfortunately it has been sold."

"Is it in the shop?"

"Well, yes." Rolo stated, "I am holding it for the buyer."

"Excellent," Tristifer said with a smile, "Package it, and that hammer," The archer pointed to an immaculate hammer near the forge. "And I'll pay half the price you quoted me."

The little man began shaking his head, however before he could speak Tris did. "You clearly stated last time that if anything I purchase does not meet the standard you claim, my next purchase is half off. And today you stated that anything in the shop is for sale."

Tristifer's eyes turned cold as he studied the little man. "I am however, just an archer. I can however fetch our groups merchant. The giant, you know doubt saw. I certainly hope you don't try to trick him. Hate to see you end up like that spice merchant."

Rolo paled, and Tris hid a smile. The story had been twisted and changed since the event brought up. The truth of the matter is that Balder accidentally destroyed a spice merchants stall in a sneezing fit. People being people however turned the tale into a fit of rage leading to the destruction. Balder of course tries to explain what actually happened every time it gets brought up; Whereas Tris took advantage of it.

The proprietor swallowed and motioned the blacksmith to grab the hammer; He then walked to the back quickly returning with a carefully wrapped box. Tristifer took the box and turned handing it to the girl. The archer pulled a thin looking coin purse from his belt and handed it to Rolo. The archer then grabbed the hammer and handed it to Jamon. "Don't drop that." He told them both.

Tris turned back to Rolo who nodded, having finished counting the coin. "A pleasure to do business with you Rolo," The archer stated, shepherding the children out the door. "Maybe next time we both will get a fair deal."

Tristifer lead them back to the market street, refusing to answer any questions. Upon reaching the stall with the seamstress, Tris stopped and handed the woman another purse. Taking the large bundle she handed him in return. Afterwards the archer lead them towards the camp.

Stopping outside the door to the building they are staying in, Tris handed the bundle to Selene, setting it atop the crossbow. "Help the boy take his new items to his room. Then put your clothes away and go ask the giant if he has any chores for you."

The archer pointed at the boy, "I'll have instructions for you tomorrow, I'm late."

As they walked back to the inn, Selene kept replaying the scene in her mind, holding the box under her arm with the intent to protect it with her life. It was the first time she had seen her master in action - or at least not in combat - and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Jameyson had often weaseled his way through difficult situations using words but he was always much more….oily? Sleezy? Slimy? The girl didn’t know how to describe it but the man she followed now had more heart and wasn’t afraid to bend a situation to his advantage. Sighing, she once again nearly collided with Tris when he stopped, blinking in surprise as he passed on the bundle to her.

Swallowing at the mention of the giant, Selene dropped her head in submission and started towards the door, the very image of an obedient if very reluctant dog.

Remaining silent during Master Barton’s ‘negotiation’ for the crossbow and hammer, once back at the Annex and instructions given, Jamon stowed his newly acquired crossbow the pretty girl held in his room, before he had a chance to thank the pretty girl, she was gone from sight. The day was complete and Master Barton had no task for him tonight, mayhaps it was time to find his friend Yn and Miss Jezibel. With that, Jamon was out of the Annex heading into town.

[SikstaSlathalin]

As much as Adam would’ve liked to stay in the Annex for the night he knew it would be an uphill battle with Tris so a night on the town would likely be a better option. And if possible find a place outside of Alegast so they don’t break any rules. The issue was, he had no clue where the rest of the men were. But they’ve no doubt pissed someone off by now so following rumors he found the location of some of them. First was Yn, big goony looking youth was hanging out in some Tavern called the Studious Stag.

Quiet place that served weak ale and tea. Odd place to find one of the rogues but Yn was a more quiet sort so he supposed it made sense.

As the sun continued to fade from the sky Ashvel was continuing his return to where the Gallery was being boarded. Yet out of the corner of his eye he saw Adam walking down the street not far from where he was. Deciding to see what he was up too Ashvel quickly moved through the street to the other side. As he walked behind Adam tapping him on the shoulder.

"Didn't expect you to be wandering around town. Where are you heading?"

Adam turned at the sound of Ash’s voice and hmmed lightly. “Balder, is giving us all a free night before we start researching the Tears. The women are off somewhere so it’s our turn, was on my way the Studious Stag to find Yn. Come along it’ll save me the bother of hunting you down, haha.”

The night was just starting, and it would be a waste to be stuck indoors. As long as he was with the others then he should be fine. “Well that sounds like you are planning a good time.” Ashvel said as a smile crept onto his face. “Well might as well enjoy the night. Since tomorrow will be all work. So, let's get going.” Ashvel said as he followed Adam. This would be a good way for him to put his worries behind him. At least for the night.

Adam chuckled and nodded. “Either a good time or a complete disaster, depends on if we can keep Tris in check. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him or Jamon have you?”

Ashvel could only chuckle at Adam’s response. It was true that some of them could get out of hand at times, but that was just the way it was in the Gallery. Giving a small smirk he just shook his head. “Well that is just the way it will be. Though, I am sure that we can keep the others in check… maybe.” Ashvel said before answer Adam’s next question. “Sorry, I didn’t see any of them in the shopping district. Though it won't be too hard to find them.”

“Well let’s hope so, I need to get you all back to the Annex before dawn. Here this should be where Yn is.” The warrior said pushing through the door of the small tavern. It smelled nothing like any tavern Adam had ever been in, seemed more like a cafe of some kind.

Yn had mostly been finishing off his drink, allowing Jezibel plenty of time to return to the annex. He knew they had ended on good terms, but even he could tell she wanted to be alone. Hearing the doors swing open, he looked up, spotting two familiar faces entering the tavern. Smiling up from his drink, Yn waved them over to join him at their tables.

"Adam, Ash, been a bit. Never got to talk much after the eventful night. Surprised you two would come around here." Yn offered up to the two of them. One could smell the weak alcohol on his breath, along with the cups on the table. He leans back against the booth and lets out a sigh enjoying the quiet atmosphere.

Walking into the small tavern it was like walking into a different world. It was nothing like any tavern Ashvel had ever been in. The noise levels were down, and you couldn't smell the alcohol in the air. It was strange, but like Adam said Yn was at one of the tables calling out to them to join him.

Once Ashvel sat at the table and nodded his head at Yn. "Well you seem to be enjoying yourself. Have you been here long." Ashvel asked trying to get to know Yn a little better since he kept more to himself than the other.

"Not too long, and I kinda am. Jezi and I were talking, and she just headed back." Yn offered up to Ash, motioning to the set of glasses in front of the two of them. Yn motioned the waitress over again and asked for another round, along with getting orders for the other two.

"So what brings you two around here?" Yn asked them, smiling as the old cups were cleared away.

Adam inspected the drink brought to him his eyebrow quirked. He’s drunk tea stronger than this swill.But what could you expect from a town full of eggheads and students. But if he remembered right there was a roadside tavern a short march from Alegast. A place called the Bull’s Head Tavern, known for hard men, loose women, and a fire starting fuel called the Sky Father’s Water. Rumored to be a chosen alcohol of Giants the world over, about the only thing that can get the great brutes a buzz. Adam’s never had it, but he’s heard it’ll put you on your ass before you finish the first mug.

Still he needed to find the rest of the guys before they go tempt fate and liver damage. “Well Balder is giving all of us a night to rest and relax before we get to work on the Tears. Some of us will be hunting through the library, the rest will be roaming the town getting what info we can on the assholes after us and looking for supplies for the roads ahead. Thinking of heading for the Bull’s Head Tavern outside of town, but need to find Jamon and Tris first, you seen them Yn?” He asked sipping the swill trying to hide his disgust at it’s weak taste.

It seemed that Yn had been drinking here since they had been free to roam the city. There were plenty of glasses that had been emptied though it was understandable since there wasn’t and strong liquor in the whole establishment. Ashvel was a little surprised that Yn would settle down in a place like this to drink. From what little he knew about the man it just seemed a little out of character.

When the waitress brought him something to drink it was a little on the bland side for a place that sold spirits. Sipping the liquid out of the daintyy glass he looked to Adam and saw that he was in the same opinion that he was. This place was not a tavern. It was a place for the intellectual and tree huggers to come and relax. Yet he could feel the eyes of the room fall on him. It may not be true but in places like this he was not too comfortable, and his pale skin would stick out like a sore thumb. “Well the night is only beginning, and I believe that would be a better place to drink.”

Adam choked back some bile as he put his mug down with a scrunched face nodding at Ash’s suggestion. “I agree, hopefully we can find Tris and Jamon along the way. Or send an urchin out looking for them for a few bits of silver.”

Down the street from the Stag

Having stowed the crossbow which Master Barton had selected for him, Jamon makes his way through town to the establishment he believes Master Yn was spoken to have headed to. If Master Yn was there, mayhaps the pretty girl that serves him would be as well. The newest pretty girl after all does not seem to be very friendly. Miss Jezibel is much nicer. As he is still a few streets away from the Studious Stag, a voice calls out to him from his rear

“Young Lord, Stay your haste for a moment Sire…”

Jamon stops and looks over his shoulder as one of the people from the market seem to be approaching. He turns toward the approaching man and seth his hand to his chest nodding slightly, a habit he is picking up from that awful girl, his tone though is raspy

“Gentle day good man, what pray might I do for you?”

As the man approaches with a smirk on his lips, setting his own hand to his chest, nodding politely toward the boy

“Nerium teaches you well M’Lord…” before resuming the ploy for approaching “... it was well I was able to reach you good man. It seems that your travel companion was overcharged for his trade. Praise the Gods I found you before your travel companion realized the mistake.” Ky reaches in the side pocket of his black armor and removes a single coin. A highly polished black pearl type coin, one that some - especially Su Lin would immediately recognize as a death coin, one her village assassins would give one before their rebirth. “Please see that your travel companion receives this…” as he pauses for a brief moment before a smirk forms “...better yet young Lord, why do you not provide this to Nerium? I am certain she would have better use for this, a better understanding.”
Jamon stands with a look of confusion on his face, in an equally confused tone

“Good sir, are you sure you render payment to the right person? This Nerium you speak of, I do not know him, my travel companion is a Master Barton, I travel with no Nerium.”

A friendly smile on Ky’s lips, his tone still friendly “Yet you carry her steel. No good Lord, you do travel with Nerium, though it is her pet name I gave her, you would know her as Su Lin, my sister.” watching for any reaction from the boy - on if she has spoken to this child yet.

Jamon’s facial features change, one of excitement, his tone rather upbeat, he looks upon Ky’s features closer and he could see the resemblance of the awful girl

“Please allow me offer forgiveness for not recognizing the brother of the one who teaches me. Your sister has taught me much.” Jamon looks to the hilt of the sword Ky has along his back “..Is your steel the same as Mistress Su Lin?”

Ky’s eyes narrow, his tone flat “No dear child, obviously Nerium does not teach you well. Do speak to my dear sister that we spoke, tonight has been a good first talk M’Lord. Provide Nerium the coin I provided. Live a good night M’Lord for the next you look upon my eyes, you will no longer be of this world child.”

Nervously Jamon looks upon Ky thinking this might be like the awful girl does to speak awful things to make him think and grow stronger. Before Jamon has time to stammer anything, Ky has turned and stepped into a sidestreet having provided what he intended, Jamon’s life was now marked as belonging to Ky.

Still oblivious on what training the awful girl’s brother was providing him, he watches as the man drifts away through the town. Jamon thinks about asking Miss Su Lin about her brother when he sees her again, for now, he turns and starts back for the Stag.

As he reaches the Stag, he pushes through the door allowing his eyes adjust to the interior, a smile forms seeing his friend Master Yn and the others already there. As one of the group leaders were also in the tavern, Jamon steps over toward Adam resting his hand to his chest nodding slightly

“Gentle evening Master Oakfield, are we resting here this evening?”

Adam quirked his eyebrow at Jamon as he found his way to the Stag without Tris and bowed to him like Su Lin liked to do. With a low sigh Adam clicked his tongue. “Save the formal crap for some gussied up Lord or swooning Lady, Peanut. Su Lin aside you needn’t do that with anyone but Balder and Dagur in the Gallery. Now pull up a seat, have you seen my evil Half Brother Tris recently? I’ve been tasked with taking the men out for some wind down time before we are up to our eyeballs in dusty old books.” Adam pushed his barely drunken mug towards the boy and ordered some water to wash the taste away.

Jamon wandered to the table and took a seat. His face cringes as the mug was pushed toward him, obviously he was not expected to drink out of something someone else had been drinking from. His tone slightly taken aback, more from the mug before him

“Master Barton and that pretty girl in his company went into town so he could obtain a crossbow for me. He was going to be showing me how to use one. After I brought the crossbow back to my room, I have not seen where he was, I didn’t even realize everyone else would be here.” now beginning to cast his eyes about trying to see if the pretty girl that usually in accompanying Yn might be in the tavern.

Adam scoffed ordering the boy a fresh mug. “Oh Peanut we have much to teach you. Gonna be a long night for you boyo. Drink up, you’ve spent too much time around a crazy Assassin and lusty cat girl it’s time we show you the other ways of Men.” He patted Jamon’s back firmly.

"Peanut? That is quite a name for him… though fitting I feel." Yn replied with a deep chuckle as he allowed the conversation to flow. Not finding a point to interject just yet, he was curious about the thought of joining the guys to a tavern on the outskirts of the city. Just getting out of the town would feel much better. No more prying eyes and whispers.

"Though your question Adam, I would enjoy heading out of here. I'm used to being in the woods and plains. This town feels more stuffed up than the geckos during the winter season. Fiery gecko snot is a very unpleasant thing." Yn related to the man with a shudder at that thought. Having to rebuild a house due to a sneezing fit was a bad idea.

Chuckling at the exchange that the two men were having it reminded Ashvel of times long since past. However, that life was behind him now and this was his new family his new life. “Well I will leave the teaching to you Adam. Don’t want the child to get too many bad habits.” Ashvel said in a joking tone. If anything Adam would teach the child bad habits.

Adam laughed looking out the window, seeing the sun going down. “Well he’s already had some lessons with Tris, there isn’t much worse I can do to him. But we’re wasting time sitting in this stuffy place. If I know Tris he’s probably been at the Bull’s Head Tavern since he left Jamon behind. So let’s just make our way there now, keep your weapons about you lads our friends from the woods might still have friends around.” With that he tossed a few coppers onto the table for the swill he didn’t finish then led the men outside and down the path heading for the Western gate of Alegast.

*A short time later*

After a surprisingly pleasant walk through the woods the men soon followed the sounds of reveler to the door the Bull’s Head Tavern. Famous for its Giant Grade alcohol and shockingly stretchy and low moral wenches. The place was called the Bull’s Head for a reason, Adam just hoped they didn’t come to the place on one of “those” nights. That was something the merc was ready to explain to the likes of Yn and Jamon. And on bare principle he’d likely have to kill someone.

Luckily tonight was a very different night at the ole BH. A large hand painted sign hung on a wobbly post by the small path leading to the Inn’s door. “Fight Club night” a smile spread across Adam’s face. “Alright boys looks like our two new recruits get earn their busted knuckle pins tonight. I’ll go sign them up for tag team fights. The rest of you try and find Tris and keep a hand on your coin pouches. Meet me in the courtyard in about five minutes.” With that the usually grim warrior gave a roguish smile and vanished into the milling crowds.

Having followed Adam and crew, Jamon still is gazing upon the various people within the tavern. As Adam mentions the busted knuckle pins and signing he and Yn up for, what was it, tag team fights, he allows a slight gasp to escape as he is ready to protest this … fighting? Before he has chance to utter a single word, Master Adam is absent from sight. Not really familiar with Ash, Jamon looks toward Yn, a worried tone

“Master Yn, we are not … what … going to fight each other … are we?” trying to recall any similar experiences he and Sir Falstskog had during their travel adventures. None come to mind, not even any Mother and Father showed him. “Are we to be some form of entertainment? I do not think I desire to be a jester for … “ looking at the various patrons of the tavern “... these ruffians.”

His thoughts also pulling back onto what that awful girl had been instructing him on over the week of travel and constant torment. The hours of simply sitting with eyes closed listening to everything as she described what he was hearing. The continuous movements, initially being described as being graceful as a cow ready for birth, though the last days she seemed to be more accepting of his movements … the complement … if it could be called that … that he was not completely empty in the head. If he was going to be expected to be involved in some sort of fight, he hopes he would not disappoint that awful girl in what she had been trying to teach him. Jamon gazes around the tavern, ‘watch with your ears, move with your mind’. Strange words from the awful girl, perhaps tonight would be the time he might gain a better understanding of this.

“No, we don’t fight each other. We work as a team against others.” Yn said to calm the boy’s worries. He himself was looking at the tavern’s name with a curious glare. Sure the name didn’t mean much of anything, but it still had him wary. Rumors had flown around the campfires that made him hesitant. Rolling his shoulders he entered the tavern before Jamon, getting people to stop and look up, the creak of the door swallowed by the singing of an Ocecat male on the stage, his right eye blackened and dotted with white spots.

“My my, not often we get one of your kind here. Most get driven away by the name.” A nearby man spoke, drawing Yn’s attention. The man was currently shirtless and nursing a rather rough bruise along his right shoulder, two cups of ale in front of him.

“You and the beanpole here for the fight?” The man motioned to both him and Jamon, looking them up and down with a stern eye.

Looking about at the ruffians within the establishment, Jamon decides to stay close to his friend Yn. He tenses as a stout woman passes by pinching him on the rear as she continues past. The smell of sweat and the odor of blood in the air bring a cringe to his face. As the man before them inquires if they are there for ‘the fight?’ … Jamon remains silent unaware that this establishment was going to host any form of fight.

Looking toward the man addressing them, he replies “Good sir, my name is not bean pole, it is Jamon, by what name might I address you as my good man?” demonstrating without any cause for doubt, social interaction is not his strong point.

"We got us a funny nobleman guys." The man spoke to those around him, getting a rise from them all. Yn glared at the men for a few moments before letting out a laugh himself, pulling Jamon closer yet pushing him to the forefront.

"We did ask a question, and we are going to be in the fight night. It's a good chance to stretch the arms out before hitting the road again." Yn spoke in his booming voice, gathering more eyes upon them. Some fell silent as they watched it, while others entered into whispered conversation between them.

"Damn, you're serious? Well shit, gonna be a good match. Names Kharm, and it'll be a good match. Why not a drink first?" He turned to look at the barmaid and waved her over, motioning to a seat for them to sit.

"I'm not sure if we should, were meeting a friend in the ring soon." Yn began to move away, yet Kharm was already ordering drinks for them all.

"C'mon, wha0’ts wrong with one drink? Let's celebrate a good match between men." Kharm gave them both a cheer and motioned for them to sit.

Jamon stood by as Yn spoke with Kharm yet looked confused when Yn started to move away. When Father and Mother’s envoys had introductions with guests, they would serve fine wine and toast the visitors. Jamon had even sat at the table on a couple occasions so he is well capable of having a drink with these new friends. What he did not realize is that the drink he was used to was highly watered down wine, mild wine at that. As Yn started away, Jamon reached for his arm

“Would it really be proper protocol my friend to not have an introductory drink with our new friends?” before gazing toward Kharn “Please take no offense Sir Kharm, I do humbly accept the offer of drink as we formalize our meet.” trying to recall the words Sir Falstskog would frequently speak when introducing him to dignitaries visiting Father and Mother. Jamon then starts to the table to take an unoccupied seat.

The night air was refreshing as they walked to the tavern and Ashvel was enjoying having a walk out of the stuffy town. Nothing to note happened until they reached their destination. Than Adam decided to sign up the two new members for the brawl that was taking place. Lucky he was never subjected to this ritual. Since it was not fair for a Cursed to fight a normal person in a fist fight. Keeping his skin covered and hidden as they entered the building. Then the smell of blood and alcohol invaded his senses.

It was nothing he couldn't handle, Ashvel just needed to make sure no one in the establishment would cause a problem for them. Since all of the eyes were on them now. Then one of the contestants that was nursing some injuries addresses Yn, and Jamon. The situation was easy to handle, but Jamon was acting too much on the proper side for this kind of establishment. Walking up behind the young man as he sat down he placed at hand on his shoulder. "Don't try too hard. Just act like yourself." Ashvel said as he then looked up to the man. "I am sure the fights will be a good show." as he didn't take a seat at the table with Jamon but he sat down at the empty table next to him.

Yn looked between Jamon and Ash, a bit wary of the men. While under normal reasons he wouldn't have any problems enjoying the drinks, he was warned to never get drunk before a match. Giving a sigh though he sat down at a table as the men cheered and moved the drinks closer. One being a large glass of honey colored liquid while a much smaller, no less than a single swig, sat beside them.

"My favorite drink. I call it the Donkey Kick, bit of a mix myself. A single shot of Sky Father's water paired with a honeybrew mead. Really puts hair on your chest… which at least one of you could use." Kharm cheered the boys as he moved the drinks closer.

"First, down the water in one gulp, making sure not to try and sip it. Then chase it with the others. It's really good." Kharm spoke them through the steps before motioning them to follow up. Yn gave it a look and sniffed the water, already smelling the strong alcohol and earthy tones. He looked to the man again and returned with a smile before grabbing the shot. Looking over to Jamon he followed orders and tossed it back, nearly tossing it back up after that. The drink burned painfully, doubling him over in a coughing fit from the burn alone. Even if he could taste it, all he could taste was the burn.

"Quick quick, drink!" Kharn edged Yn on, sliding the drink to him. Yn grabbed it and took large swallows, draining the drink in one go. He could taste the overwhelming flavor of apples and honey, but that was low on the list as he drank the cold beverage. Letting out a gasp of air as he slammed down the first, he chuckled as a feeling of warmth started to grow in his stomach.

"Now you know why it's called Donkey Kick. Quite the kick to the stomach eh?" Kharn laughed at the man's antics.

Jamon having gripped the smaller glass with the clear liquid ponders on words the awful girl spoke of consuming spirited drink … ‘keeping a clear head keeps clear actions’. He IS with the other Men of the band, what harm could just one small glass bring upon him. As he brought the clear liquid to his mouth, his attention is drawn to Yn’s reaction to the first that he took down. The same reaction that Father’s Knights made when coming back from battles. This liquid in his glass is not one that he desires to consume, it certainly is not such Father and Mother would approve of his drinking, more so now, that awful girl would also disapprove. So as not to appear insulting, Jamon carefully looks to the liquid before setting the glass back on the table.

Jamon has a confused look on his face while he tries to think on what that awful girl would say in such a situation yet nothing comes to mind. Mayhap if he simply sits without offering word, his new friend Sir Kharm would allow such to pass. He turns his attention back to Yn as his friend Kharn seems to be in an amused stare, which he figures is a good thing.

It took some time to actually find the sign up line, but the walk around allowed him to scope out the competition for Jamon and Yn. A rough looking bunch to be sure, mostly humans but he saw a couple of Orcs, Trolls, and Goblins. The man was surprised he didn’t see more Dwarves, they usually love a good scrap, but then again this close to Elf land likely kept many of them away. He never knew where the animosity came from but Dwarves and Elves rarely got along. It resulted in a lot of humorous scenes for him in the past though. The names and match ups were written up on a board behind the sign up table with chalk. He didn’t recognize any of the names put up. But with titles like The Killer, The Slayer, and Freak the Mighty he was sure most of them were likely fake. But it gave him an amusing idea, as it came time for his turn he reached for the sign up sheet he chuckled to himself as he signed the two young men up. “Galabor the Beast Lord and Jalben Youngblood.” He laughed low and took the numbered flags he was handed. Yn was number twenty-three, Jamon twenty-four. They were paired against a Slizar the Slayer and a Bexatar the Killer. The names made him laugh more to himself, he had no clue who they were, but he was sure the two young Rogues could take them.

That was if he could find them and tell them about it,but seems no one knew how to tell time in the group because five minutes had come and gone and none of them were in the courtyard. He should’ve expected that, but the Tavern wasn’t that big and after some looking around he found the boys sharing a drink with a big rough looking fellow. It seems Jamon was experiencing his first taste of real alcohol. He laughed making his way through the crowd and slapped the flags onto the boys’ backs. “Welcome to the world of seedy bare-knuckle fighting boys.”

As Jamon feels someone tapping him on the back and hearing Master Adam speak, his expression cringes. Bare knuckle brawling, how uncivilized. Having not consumed any alcohol yet, he looks toward Adam, a trace of despair in his voice

Yn turned as he felt the hand fall on his shoulder, spotting Adam leaning over them some as he informed them that they had been signed up for the tournament held at the taverns backyard. Taking the number from him, he looked it over before sliding it into the vest and turning to speak, only to be stalled by Jamon asking his question first.

“Master Adam, why would anyone desire to engage in such an activity. If it is not too much an issue good sir, I would prefer not to even watch such activities let alone fight in one.” looking in Yn’s direction with the hope that his friend would concur with his protest. Perhaps his new friend Kharn might even offer words of support to his protest.

“You gotta learn how to fight for real eventually Jamon. Might as well make it a friendly one, that wont cost your life.” Yn nudged the young man with a chuckle and finishing off a swig of his own drink. He ordered himself another drink that Kharn had suggested to him, making sure to be faster with tossing back the shot before going to the drink.

Adam chuckled quickly slamming down the drink left by Jamon before flipping the glass upside down and placing it back down before downing the boy’s mead in a single gulp as well. “Hmm ain’t that a dainty little drink, sorry lad you have no choice, it's a right of passage of sorts. Just like drinking your first pint of alcohol, but let’s get you something that tastes better.” He whistles and waves a wench over placing a mug of ale before Jameon. “Drink this up boy, it’ll put hair on your chest without rotting a hole through your stomach like this shit will.”

Having watched Adam down the drink and flip the glass upside down, Jamon watched with interest as Master Adam summoned one of the Server Girls over. Adam’s words fell on somewhat deaf ears as Jamon’s eyes were fixated on the rather pretty girl that brought the ale setting it before him. He kept focus on the woman till she disappeared into the crowd while absentmindedly taking the ale and taking a drink, still tilting his head trying to catch a fleeting glimpse of that girl. Jamon lets out a cough as the first real drink he had goes down, ordinarily he might have coughed it up, but his mind was preoccupied with looking for that girl.

At the same time, Kharm gave Adam a burning stare, in a less than inviting tone he offers
“Oi, you cunt! Might I give you this one chance to beg my forgiveness before my mates and I collect payment from your sorry fucking corpse for insulting MY Drink, your pup will suffer too.”

Adam wrapped Jamon on the back of his head. “Avoid using that lower brain around this place Peanut.” He was about order another drink for himself when the brute who had been sitting with Jamon and Yn spoke about some kind of insult. Normally Tris was the smack first think later type, but it had been a very long day and the grim faced merc simply wanted to enjoy the night which he could easily obtain by smashing this dumb bastard through the table then the nearest window. But he thought of a teachable moment. “Jamon pop quiz, how should one deal with such a low brow moron getting offended by someone saying his favorite drink is shite?”

Yn watched as Kharn tried to start a fight with Adam about his choice in drink. He already tensed his body to stand up, only to be stalled as Adam took the lead, using it as a teaching moment for Jamon. Figuring he wasn’t needed in this fight, he remained in his seat, allowing the two to cover the situation.

Still back into reality and the stinging slap on the back of the head, Jamon stares with some confusion on what Master Adam was speaking of. He looks to his new friend Kharm and wonders why this man had spoken so, certainly Sir Falstskog would have taken to his fist over Kharm speaking in such a manner. That awful girl certainly would … just the thought of that last causes him to shutter. Finally as the alcohol which starts to warm his body, Jamon mutters however finally having gained a slight clue that he should not speak of his former protectors by name remembering the sticks that awful girl would strike him with for saying Sir anything

“A former associate I knew would probably desire to do harm to one who spoke in that manner. There is another I know who would mayhaps do worse.” looking now toward his ale, still not forming a clue on why the question was posed.

Ignoring the leering brute Adam simply sighed shaking his head lightly, looking at Jamon. “There is a third option boy.” Now he looked back at Kharm studying him mildly. “Kids these days huh? Listen being easily offended is for whiny whelps and housewives. Now I can tell by looking you aren’t a complete fool, so tell me does being mad really seem like a smart thing to do right now?”

Jamon looks up from his ale… whiny whelp … housewife… those are some of the more mild things he has been referred to these last weeks. As he is about to speak, Kharm slides his chair out and began to stand.

“I have your fuckin housewife right here….” before he stops in his tracks glancing now for the first time at the Rogues Pin on Adam. Still he has his hands clenched into fists however finally steps back before casting a hard gaze at Jamon and Yn

“It will be good that you don’t see me again, especially you pup…” gaze now on Jamon before turning his attention back to Adam “..I know of you … people … it would seem you don’t know me yet…”

Adam squared his shoulders and placed a hand protectively on Yn and Jamon’s shoulders. He knew where the man’s eyes went and he knows what he saw. Once more the pins proceed them. “Maybe not, but these two know your name and I know your face, an unnecessary overreaction on both parts perhaps, but wipe that sneer off your face before I forget I’m trying to teach my apprentices a lesson in diplomacy.” He clicked his tongue and gave a terse motion with his head to Kharm and he goons away.

With a snort Kharm gave a simple nod and waved his meaty hands for his men to follow leaving Adam, Yn, and Jamon alone.

Half expecting another whap on the back of his head, Jamon tensed his head before biting at his lower lip
“Master Oakfield, did I do something, as Master Barton calls it … stupid again?” as he takes another sip of this ale.

Adam sighed. This boy is so damn broken, and so far only broken people have been teaching him. Taking the seat recently vacated by Kharm Adam ordered himself some mead and tried to think of what his father would say in such a situation. As much of a Warrior King as Argyle Dova was he was also a diplomat of such high skill that only his wife could match him. His drink arrived and he studied Jamon almost seeing himself in the quaking little whelp.
“No you didn’t boy, the stupid thing was what your former friend did. A man is many things and I’m sure you’ve glinted a few of them hanging around Tris, but being quick to anger and offense is never one of them. That is the realm of like I said whelps and housewives.” He took a sip of his drink before continuing. “A man’s first choice of action should never be violence unless all avenues of diplomacy have been exhausted or the one across from you is so far obviously beyond reason that you’d be wasting time and putting yourself, them, or others at risk.”

So unused to borderline kind words from the elder Rogues Jamon simply sat in silence absorbing Adam’s words while he grew to enjoy his ale. Almost like his former protector Sir Falstskog, but less patronizing? No less general and mechanical. The young man had lost track of the time Sir Falstskog tried to teach him subtle lessons like this.

Adam drank further almost feeling like his father which was something he never thought he’d have to admit to himself. “I’ve been watching you since we drafted you boy, a soft and fluffy young man with good intentions tossed headfirst into the bed of a crazy cat woman and the blood soaked clutches of an assassin who never questioned who must die or why. They have burned you down and have begun tossing new bricks and molding into the pile before your ashes even cool. And then Tris gets hold of you and your being added to before your current molding even dries. In short they’ve made a mess of you boy.”

A slight frown crosses Jamon’s lips. More insults? But not directed at him? More confusion, but the words felt different, almost like legitimate critiques not just mud being thrown at a wet wall seeing what sticks before trying again.
“But...but I am under the tutelage of Mistresses Mynx and Su Lin by order of Guildmaster Harken Sir Oakfield. I cannot disobey them can I?” He held his ale like a child does it’s toy, as it tries to decipher if listening to one parent means they’ll be punished by the other.

Adam shook his head slowly. “No, always respect and obey your tutors, but part of your training with us is learning the confidence and sense to know the difference between obeying your tutors and being...kowtowed, you must learn to stand up for yourself. And that can extend to all forms of social interaction.”

Jamon nodded actually finishing his drink this time looking for the pretty blonde server from before waving her over for another round. She reminded him of Miss Jezibel at least body wise, but she held a softer edge about her than the stern faced former mercenary leader. As the thought about it actually almost everyone in the gallery had a very stern or grim face. Was that a requirement for this line or work? He would need to work on his grim face, so far Master Oakfield has the best one maybe the young former prince can learn it from him? “That makes a deal of sense I suppose Master Oakfield, but if I try to stand up for myself I always seem to get struck. Mistress Lin is quite fond of it actually.”

Adam nodded finishing his own drink taking another as the young blonde came over smiling down at Jamon, it was a more genuine smile than what she gave Adam or any other customer so far. Her hand even brushed against his as she refilled his pint and handed it back. Seems the young apprentice had some charm even if he lacked the experience to know how to use it properly. “A cruel form of teaching for sure, but one that can still be stood up to you simply must pick your battles. Chances are you’ll get a harder ass kicking than before, but eventually they will respect you enough to beat you less.”

Jamon once again got distracted by the pretty serving wench, but he snapped back quicker as he heard Adam’s deep voice again. “I don’t suppose there’s a way to avoid beating all together sir?” He gave a weak chuckle sipping his ale.

Adam smirked and shook his head. “Not unless you find your way back to Salvian boyo, most lessons or at least those most worth knowing comes with a great deal of pain. Fighting, shooting, exploring, even finding a good lover comes with pain and suffering, trial and error. Sometimes it kills you, sometimes it saves you. But all comes with time, keep alive, learn, and thrive, the same words my father beat into my head since before I was old enough to know what any of it means.” He chuckled sardonically taking a long pull of his drink.

Jamon nodded softly, Adam had barely said five words to him this whole trip and now here he was waxing philosophy and trying to teach the boy like he’d been doing it all along. My my, how alcohol changes people.

“It’s better to take the beatings when you’re still a pup. Makes the body and mind tougher when you grow up.” Yn finally spoke up, having sat and listened to the two of them talk. Adam, despite what he had heard from others, was quite the mentor. Yn now very easily knew why Dagur had placed him in charge, other than just seniority. Finishing off his fourth cup of the honey drink, Yn figured it was time to get on to more immediate topics.

“Anyway, it seems we’ll be up soon for our turn at the ring. Big question Jamon, can you throw a punch?” Yn asked, moving to stand. He had to use the table for support as the world took a small spin around him. He wasn’t a stranger to having a few drinks, but the Sky Father’s water got to his head faster than he had been expecting it to.

Jamon's attention is once again drawn from the attractive blonde as Yn asks if he could throw a punch. He drifts his thoughts back to the instruction the awful girl had been giving him. He has observed Sir Falstskog 'throw punches yet what the awful girl has been teaching him is hand strikes however different from what his former loyal protector had done.

As Yn stands then grips the table for support, Jamon inquires

"First Master Yn, are you in any shape for this barbaric spectacle we are to do? For your answer, Miss Su Lin and Miss Mynx have been instructing me on using my hands in a fight." as a look of concern shows on his face.

Adam chuckled finishing his drink and standing up. He saw some of the lessons Su had taught him. Entry level assassin stuff, handy if the boy could keep his head and look for the strike places, but he doubted Jamon would be able to keep that kind of focus in a real fight.

As the situation turned from a casual drink to almost an all out brawl he was just keeping his attention on the situation. If push came to shove he would join the fight if it came to it. However, as luck would have it, he didn't need to fight, and Adam proved to be a fine diplomat. Ashvel didn't know he had it in him. He seemed more laid back and ready for a fight. It was a pleasant surprise that he handled the situation like a true leader would.

As the rest of the group took a seat at the table where Jamson was sitting he decided to join and then ordered something to drink for himself. Nodding his head at Adam he smiled under his hood though no one would be able to see it. "If you can't take your alcohol then we came to the wrong place. Though I am sure you both will be just fine in the ring." Ashvel said however he wasn't so confident that Jamson will come out of the fight unscathed. Well it was a bonus that he brought some of his medical supplies with him. "Don't worry. I will patch you up if you get hurt too bad. Though, don't lose the fight. Don't want a bad rep." Ashvel said with a little chuckle.

Adam nodded at Ash’s words before he moved over to Jamon and made the boy stand. “Yes I’m sure Miss. Mok has been teaching you a great deal about that, but unless you can use them effectively all they’ll do is make you look the fool. For now you’re best bet is likely hitting the weak points on your opponent and staying light on your feet.”

As Jamon stands to look toward Master Oakfield, the blonde waitress makes her way past those assembled at the table on her way to another area, having made the effort to pass close to the table Jamon was at. Taking the opportunity, Jamon holds up his hand to gain her attention, rather the ‘girl’ or ‘girlie’ others seem to address her by, he offers a polite “Miss, might I get something cool, no alcohol is it is not too much trouble.” the words behind a genuine soft smile.

The girl gave Jamon a bright smile and nodded. “Sure thing my lord.” She courtesyed a little lower than was needed giving Jamon a nice view of her assets before she turned smartly away to fetch some water.

Adam laughed snapping his fingers bringing Jamon’s attention back. “Like I said peanut stop thinking with the wrong brain if you want to survive long enough to enjoy that young lady’s company further. Now put your fists up I’m going to show you some down and dirty tricks to survive the beating you’ll be getting.”

Jamon bit at his lower lip as his attention snapped back to Master Oakfield. At least it was finger snapping and not an acorn or sheath of a dagger. Jamon stepped his left foot behind himself while closing his hands into fists. He was certain Adam was going to show him something different than what Miss Su Lin and Miss Mynx had been showing him. Trying to offer a joking tone behind the worry
“I suppose surviving a beating is a good thing. I will try to remember any you show me Master Oakfiel… Adam…” recalling the small bit about leaving formalities at the door.

Adam chuckled nodding slowly. “Well these will be likely far simpler than any complicated locks and pressure points Su Lin was likely trying to show you simple footwork and straight forward hits.” He moved a little closer adjusting the boy’s arms so they were held closer to his body protecting his ribs and shifted his fists a little so they could protect his face. “Ok return to his stance as often as you can, ideally would be after each hit, but sometimes you can’t manage it. Now from here picture your arms are like coiled snakes, lash out quickly and twist your body slightly so it can add extra force to your hits. But always keep your arms close.” He stepped in front of Jamon and formed a shield of sorts with his own arms. “Now try a few hits, keep your wrists locked in place like the head of a hammer and follow through.”

Drifting a little, Jamon relaxed his breathing and focused of Adam, picturing his body placement, mentally playing out the likely areas Adam might move, the placement of his own arms and where they might move. Adding the instruction given by Adam, Jamon thrusts his fist toward Adam’s arms intending on striking and snapping the punch back allowing the force of the strike to continue.

The hit connected, but the boy didn’t stay on target, Adam could see he was aiming for the forearm where the muscle was, but instead he swung a little wide and connected directly with the harm bone of the merc’s forearm. A jolt went through the boy’s arm, but Adam felt some power there. He chuckled shaking his arm out which got a jolt of it’s own. “Well you got some power there, but aim for the soft parts if possible, you’ll save your hand from breaking. Again but picture a line between your fist and the part of your opponent you want to hit and simply follow that line” He lifted his arms and locked them in place again.

Jamon focused on Adam again as he took a slight step with his left foot while striking forward with his right hand, if connected, there would be a twisting movement of his fist before snapping the punch back, this time he would follow with a low crouch thrusting his elbow toward Adam's rib cage intending on only touching the ribs if he made it through the merc’s defense, the only move he was getting good with that the awful girl had been showing him.

Adam took the first hit and saw the follow up a smile crossed his face and he simply changed his level and had Jamon’s elbow connected with his bicep protecting his ribs. He then simply pushed his arms forward and shoved the boy back a few feet. “Hmm not bad on the follow up try, but be ready to keep following up because you let yourself get very close and if you got within grabbing range that could spell the end for you. Now let’s see your defenses, keep your arms tucked and close and try to anticipate where the hit will fall and adjust your arms as needed.”

This is the one area Jamon still struggled in, anticipating where she would strike and where the touch would land. Jamon stood loose to allow free movement, flow with any hits to minimize effect while holding his arms back as Adam had shown him. The only difference now is there was a confident look in his eyes that was lacking even days ago.

Adam nodded and dropped his arms to his sides. The boy will never be able to take a full punch from him, Adam has been known to break through wooden doors with his bare hands if needed. But he wouldn’t disrespect the boy in this open and area by slapping him about, no he’d need all the respect he could get. So a moderate approach was needed, knife hand. Bringing his arms up he first swung at Jamon’s side chopping across from left to right.

Having maintained focus on Adam, almost without thinking, though not a natural reaction yet, as the swing comes at his side, Jamon steps slightly back bringing his own arms toward Adam’s arm trying to catch the swing in a V formed by his own arms trying to force his arm to the side with intent to then bring his elbow to the side of Adam’s neck. The movement was clumsy being done in an arena other than practice for the first time.

With another smirk Adam ducked the clumsy swing and caught Jamon’s elbow lifting the boy neatly up by his arm and letting him dangle a little. “Good block, but sloppy attack, never try to go for a high hit like that on an opponent taller than you. Or this will happen.” He smartly dropped the boy back to the ground. “Ok get set for the next one.”

As Jamon is in the air, again, there is no squirming, no looking for a protector, no whimpering, just finally … learning. It is becoming obvious now why the awful girl had been speaking to him about seeking Mr. Oakfield out so he can learn what she is not able to teach. Once his feet touch the ground, he steps back into the defensive stance shown to him, his tone with confidence “I will keep this in mind, I am ready for your next go Adam.”

Adam nodded. “Very good this time will be two quick hits keeps your fists to your face.” Moving quicker now Adam shot a hand out feinting a hit at under Jamon’s belt which the boy would instinctively move away from by lined him up well for the real hit of Adam’s fingers jabbing him in his unprotected forehead. “Always be wary of fake out, but also look for them yourself.

As Adam had spoken that there would be two jabs for his face, the awful girl’s words drift
‘Words will cause you to lose focus, listen to the movement, don’t watch the words’
This finally made sense as Adam feints the strike, even though Jamon expected something other than what he started with, he was as fast or mayhaps faster than the awful girl, even though he had never seen her actual speed. Jamon started to make a move to defend the fingers however rested on his forehead in a blink of his eye. As Adam instructed to be wary of the fake out, Jamon nodded “I will do my best.”

Adam dropped his hands and nodded. “Good, last two things I have time to show you are footwork and fighting dirty.” Motioning down to his feet he began. “Be sure to keep an eye on your opponent's feet, they can tell you a lot about what they plan to do next, same with watching the eyes. Never be still in a fight even when you’re hitting, surviving a fight be it in a ring or in the street is all about bettering your position to give you even the slightest bit of an advantage.” He began bouncing slightly on his toes and the balls of his feet alternatively while at the same time he began bouncing in a small circle randomly moving from right to left. “Copy what I’m doing young blood.”

As Adam proceeds showing Jamon the foot work, Jamon mimics the footwork. He starts off somewhat clumsy like a maiden on her first dance however with the attention to new things that the awful girl puts him through, in a few moments he is keeping somewhat up with the movements Adam shows him.

The man nodded lifting his hands. “Ok now picture an opponent and throw a few hits. Stick with the straight forward punches and save the elbows and such for later.” Adam focused on nothing and delivered a flurry of hits at the face and body of his phantom enemy the air rushing and whooshing with his powerful arms and fists as he bounced from side to side sway away from imagined punches only to quickly counter with hard hits to what would be the chin and side of the head of a man.

Jamon’s punches start out somewhat awkward and his footwork stumbles slightly at the start, as he continues watching and mimicking, the foot and hand work start to get in sync. Nothing like the power or grace Adam moves with, but Jamon seems to pick up the rhythm of footwork, swaying with hand punches, jabs with an uppercut occasionally thrown in. After a few moments, Jamon slows his movements as beads of sweat drip from his forehead. He simply offers the merc “I will try not to let your training go to waste, for once, I will bring some honor to those I am with.”

Adam laughed once more and noticed the young server had been watching Jamon training, a slight red streaked her cheeks somewhat impressed by how quickly the boy caught on as she brought him a cup of cool water.

“You’ll do great!” She said smiling. “Just listen to the big guy!”

Jamon takes the cup casually holding her hand at the same time, not the typical awkward stammering or stupid words or tone, a slight shyness in his tone as he sips some of the water
“Thank you, I can only try my best.” looking to her eyes a moment “..would it be too much to ask by what name you go by. I have heard many call you things I simply will not repeat and shame such a divine creature such as you.” He then lifted her hand and kissed the back of it gently.

The girl let out a high twitter her cheeks reddening more as she took her hand back. “My name is Fraellia, but you can call me Fray. I’ve heard your name aplenty, Master Jamon.”

Offering a soft smile, Jamon steps closer to Fray “Just Jamon if you please, I do not desire to be master, just me. If I might offer this, Fraellia is a name of such beauty yet it does not do justice to the vision of breathless beauty before me.” offering a bow. “Would it be more than just a dream if I were to inquire if you might do me the honor of speaking with me again when I and my friend..’ nodding in Yn’s direction “..finish the contest we are in Fray?”

The girl gave another twitter and nodded. “I would be delighted, just be sure you finish in one piece ok?” She leaned in and kissed Jamon chastely upon the cheek before she gave a courtesy to Jamon and the other men and went back to her duties a lightness to her step. Adam couldn’t help but laugh again, where did this almost suave young rouge come from and what happened to the fumbling fool he, Tris, and Balder were going to take bets on to see what killed the young fool first. Still he needed the boy to focus. “Eyes front lad, women weaken legs and that is the last thing you need before a fight in this place. Last lesson isn’t something I can really show you simply tell you about.” He looked down at the boy and pointed to various parts of his body. “This is where the pressure points and locks Su Lin has taught you can come in handy, but not every race on Eisignol falls prey to every point. Anything bigger than a Human will be pretty resistant to most locks and pressure points, but they are a little more susceptible to attacks to their knees and legs. Anything smaller will be able to dodge around your blows pretty easy, but a few good his to their bodies or heads will keep you alive. Just always be moving and don’t be afraid to hit below the belt or attacks the eyes. This isn’t what would be called an “honorable” bout.”

Jamon nodded shaking the thoughts of Fray from his head as he finished his water. The announcement soon came that the fights would soon be beginning and all contestants should make their way to the courtyard. Fights in this place could be done in a single punch or carry on for however long the contestants and judges wanted them to. Either way tonight will be a night to remember.

[P.K.]

Grabbing the wine, Su Lin takes another drink, this liquid seems to warm her as thoughts drift on why she had not tried any of this… wine?... before. She reaches for the die missing it on the first try mumbling “stay there” as she finally grips the die. Threats worked before so she is confident that she could threaten this stupid rock again.

Su Lin looks again in a threatening manner at the stupid die mumbling “Be a single and I will end you” before tossing the die. The die again displayed six dots. When her eyes focused on the die, she giggled as she took another drink

“I aweady anshered shat...come here you stupid rock…” as she picked the die up again looking to it “...be one an I wi en you!” now tossing the die bouncing it against a wall and falls to the floor. She stares at the two dots before straining toward the question book. A look of panic washes over her face as she mumbles “tish has ben fun, what do we do nesht?” moving her hand over the wicked die.

”You answer question,” Mynx chimed in, looking at the woman’s roll. “Who crush Su?” The ocecat lifted her brow, one side of her lip lifting in a playful snarl. She had never seen the assassin in such a state, her slurred speech enough to make the feline laugh. Despite the buzzing in her head, she still had some of her wits about her.

Su Lin narrows her eyes gazing at the horrid die taunting her on the ground. She takes another drink before handing the wine off … to the floor. She folds her arms across her chest with an actual pouty look, still looking at the evil of the world, the die, mumbling “I hachs sho…” with a blush coming to her face, now looking to Mynx.

“No, nots tat man Hawk that drichs tea wif me, or hish men that want to mate ther horses…” making a cringe to the point her nose wrinkles recalling the expression one of Hawks men made which she took literally “Hak ish a nich man, he ish a frind, not a crush…” biting at her lower lip staggering in Mynx direction.

“Ths is sekret, rite, … no one elsh will no.. rigt? Jus us girls, rite?” the odor of alcohol strong on her breath.

The feline reached out to steady Su, teetering on one leg of the chair as she did so. She managed to right it, but only after catching herself by grabbing the edge of the desk with all the make-up. Tubes and palettes of color hit the floor in her fumble and she looked on with curiosity, but little else. Grumbling, she glanced back up at Su, sneering. “Yes...secret...no one tell,” she reassured her. “Just say who crush is...then done.”

Meanwhile, in the midst of this commotion, the Truth Dice somehow managed to go full circle and ended up right where they had begun. In the palm of the orc. Sighing, Shel took a seat beside Vel as the others became increasingly loud, inattentive, and intoxicated; before she flippantly tossed the die… one last time… not really intending to answer anymore questions.

What a shame. Shel had hoped to get good and drunk to numb her senses, but after seeing the way Sheva and Su guzzled down the wine, she realised it was best to stay alert. What a miracle was that no one was drunk-crying yet. And as hilarious as it would be, Shel further figured that she should ensure that none of these elegant ladies pissed, vomited, or both. She couldn’t afford the giant blaming her for any mishaps, now could she? “Four,” the orc whispered so that only Vel could hear, curious which question coincided with her roll.

Is there someone or something you hate, and why?

All sound and clamour in the room instantly began to fade away, leaving Shel completely oblivious to what was going on around her as if it was nothing but white noise. The question had tapped into something within her core and, with a hollow stare, Shel could not help but conjure up a mental image of the one she hated… exactly as she had seen him last. So in the mind’s eye of Shel, an imaginary illusion of Rhok was soon standing directly beside Vel, adorned from head to foot in mammoth bone, his body decorated with the kill as if it was the ultimate trophy.

She couldn’t bring herself to say his name.

Because he was looking at her like he was some king. Like he deserved to be Chief and no other. Like he was the Mammoth Slayer. Shel could not shake her feelings of disgust at this notion, as she kept imagining his aberration peering back at her like some phantom that kept returning to haunt her. How could such a despicable individual get everything they wanted? However, these memories disappeared almost as quickly as they came... for when the cosmetics crashed about the room, Shel was shocked from the dazed stupor.

“My… precious….”, Sheva felt like her heart was breaking to million pieces as she saw the expensive powders and colors of her make up hitting the ground. But she was so… weak to do anything about it. And to be honest her mind wasn’t even in her own mind set feel completely furious, instead she laughed, “I am probably going to be really angry later”.
And then Su’s comment took her by surprise and she found her mood going down, ”Prince needs… princess… bullshit”. She gulped some more alcohol as she looked at Shel and then to Vel and then back to her cup.

Vel watched Shel as she muttered the number she rolled. By the clouded expression on her face she had an answer to that question, perhaps one far more personal than she wanted to share. Vel understood. Watching her shake from her daze at the clatter of cosmetics Vel figured it best to leave Shel’s silent answer at that. Besides at this point she doubted many of the other women would notice, certainly not Sheva and Su.

Su Lin’s mind drifts for a moment, no, this just wouldn’t work...then Mynx pinched her. With that Su gasps a bit. She looks around to make sure only the girls were in the room. Her mind drifts again how odd this was, how he was growing on her, no, it must be sympathy. That was it, she just felt pity, it couldn’t be anything yet when close… with a sigh, she looks to Mynx

“I kan not hav a krush, he ish yor property.” sighing again waiting for the boys owner to slap her.

The ocecat’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open. For a moment she thought her ears were fooling her. There was no way she could have heard that correctly. “Jamon?” she asked incredulously, her lips forming into a grin. “Jamon? ...he is...nice toy...but not mine. Belong to Guild now...but…” ...and then she was laughing full out. She had promised not to tell, and she could keep the secret, but the choice amused her immensely. “You can have...when he trained...might be man then.”

A serious look comes over Su Lin as her tone grows monotone, she looks at her own hands
“He ish a nice boy, I am not, I has show mush blood on my hands, no mattr how I wash, the blood will always be there. I am afraid he ish a krush I can never hav, he is a Prince, he neds a prinshess.”

Prince? Shel wondered as she regathered her thoughts. Had anyone else had heard that little tidbit? The orc rolled her eyes. Probably not. This woman goes on as if she has a mouthful of marbles.

Moving on from this thought, the she-orc let out a conspicuous snort that likely went unnoticed by the more intoxicated in the room. Just what was this farce that she had found herself so reluctantly wrapped up in?

In Balefire, ‘Sir’ Tristifer had branded the Rogue Gallery little more than a circus full of fools and flunkies, but Shel was beginning to wax more towards a... second-rate menagerie of royals. Huh. How very facetious. She shook her head skeptically as she continued on in silent speculation.

What does that make me in this scenario? The peasant? The serf? …powerless. Shel once again raised her eyes to the heavens whilst stewing on her issues with Rhok, her current lack of gold, and on all the menial tasks given to her by Balder since she had met him.

Piss on that.

Either way, the idea of it all was just too preposterous for the orc to digest right now, so she considered it little more than a passing concept… like a flight of fancy… or… flirting? Was referring to males as princes and females as princesses just another cringeworthy cultural habit of the humans?

It was this epiphany that caused the orc to rise and realise that she could endure no more of this—any of it. Seizing the flask from Su, Shel wordlessly mouthed you’re finished to the assassin. What a featherweight. I don’t envy the headache you’ll wake to.

Vel looked between the two women with wide eyes under the hood. She was not entirely sure what all was being said with the way Su lin was slurring but Mynx seemed to know. Something about Jamon? Was that Su’s crush? Or… was she just very drunk? She was not certain if she should be concerned for Su lin or not. Usually with such a display she wouldn't have thought much about the prince comment but… after the encounter with Ky today she was curious.

Su Lin looked blankly around for this wine that she had been trying. Looking toward Sheva and the alcohol before reaching where her wine was once. Not having anything to grab, she folds her arms across her chest again, a pouty tone

“Ey not le mah bruver kel Jamn, I wil go and fac my bruver now. Maby if I kan sav him, mah hanz will no has so blood thn I kan see the sweet boy…” while standing for a moment, the room spinning around as she sweys “...or I wil kil him aftr I sleep..” sitting on the floor … hard. She reaches to her boot sliding her boot dagger out as she curls up on the floor keeping the dagger concealed under her arm. Sleep comes quickly as her breathing is restless.

Prince? Sweet boy? Shel butted in with her thoughts once more. No. Jamon is a fool.

Sheva snorted a laugh at the sight of Su. She slowly crawled for her direction poking her, “You can’t sleep! Can’t sleep!”, She continued to laugh, “come on!”, she poked her belly, “right Vel?”, Sheva giggled, “We have yet to find out more information!”.

Subconsciously Su Lin hears Sheva as she jerks as her belly is poked. She slightly stirs mumbling “I ish not scheepin, I memapat… menitape… meditap… I’s thinking…” as her eyes barely open. Her vision focuses better on Sheva before slowly sitting back up. She looks to her dagger before slipping it back in her boot sheath before mumbling again in a pouty tone “I washent sweepin, ey wah tinkin…”. Su Lin carefully looks about the room before motioning toward Sheva to move closer rather softly whispering … rather loudly … “Kan I tell u a sek-kret? Member dat queshtion yor sicher askd me?...” motioning Sheva closer “...I wold nevr tell her dis, but you are more prettier den her. Dont tel her I said dat, otay?”

Su Lin glances in Mynx direction, her lip pouty “You madeee Mnk pwetty, sometimz I think abot bein pwetty. Mabe my Jamn lik me if I waz pwetty wike Minx…” before folding her arms, her tone growing softer “..but Jamn wikes evry girl he seez…” looking toward Sheva again, then the broken makeup around “..kan you mak me pwetty?”

“You should let Su-Lin sleep, Sheva,” Shel finally spoke up, voicing her opinion on the situation, not sure if she wanted to hear any more nonsensical slurring. Shel secretly hoped that Vel would second this notion. “She’s wearing the ears off me with such muddled talk. It’s worse than listening to the accent of an ogre.”

Yet Shel had to admit to herself that this day truly had been one of great revelations. The secret on how to completely incapacitate Su-Lin being one of those, apparently. Shel shrugged. While drinking so speedily was considered idiotic to the orc, she supposed the willingness of Su to abandon her usual deadpan demeanour made it obvious that she trusted those in this room.

“She won’t feel well tomorrow. She needs rest and... water...” Shel trailed on as she realised these two needs were exactly parallel to the simple requests made by Selene on the walk over. Rest and water. The most basic of desires they were, but so vital. Shel inwardly chastised herself for again becoming distracted from meeting the prisoner’s second request.

“As for the makeup… things can be replaced, Sheva… and anger can wait.”

Water. I need to find water.

Vel started waving at Sheva to leave the poor woman alone in agreement with Shel, but it was too late as Su sat back up. Vel let out a soft sigh. If Sheva kept waking everyone back up she’d never get a moment tonight to get back to translating, let alone being alone. She took her book writing quietly. “You should let her rest, if she falls asleep again.” Vel wrote but wondered if the women would even be able to read it.

Su Lin looks toward Shel for a moment with a blank confused look on her face “I washnt sweepin, I wash memapatin, I am weally awake…” as she strained to look at the Orc’s face, a confused expression on her own face “I donts shee anysing wong wif your ears, siwwy girl, dey didn fawl off.” in a giggle before looking toward Vel as she wrote more in her book. Leaning slightly forward straining to read the words, which were a blur no matter how she looked, Su Lin inhaled before letting out an exhale, her tone one of excitement
“Did she wite anoter queshton? Do I stil gets to ansher it?!” still leaning to read the book, almost falling forward but catching herself with her hands before she ended up face down on the floor. Once she sat back up, she folds her arms again pouty “Yoush hood gets anosher woom, thish one ishn’t schtable.” looking around for that liquid that seems to warm her stomach so.

Unamused by Su’s comment, Shel responded with an apathetic stare as she decidedly stood to her feet, once more unable to keep her mouth shut. “Nope. Nothing wrong with these ears. It’s your gob that’s the problem.” Shel shook her head in regret at the monstrosity she had inadvertently created by giving Su-Lin some wine, and headed towards the door to lean against its oak frame with a sigh. As soon as these ladies nodded off, she planned on slipping right out that door, pronto. She desperately felt like she needed some fresh air after that last roll.

Vel jerked her book back bumping against Shel as she did so and frowned heavily at the intoxicated Su lin. She should go back to sleep, she was going to hurt herself trying to move around like that. She writes down quickly to shel. “Its Sheva’s turn.”

Shel nodded her head softly to Vel in a muted acknowledgement of the script before placing her hand on her hip in anticipation. Hopefully Sheva would really run her mouth now. A bit more information could prove useful in the future and… as always… the more savoury it was, the better. It was the meat that Shel craved, the knowledge that held spice. Let the others keep their sweeties. The orc felt deeply compelled to find out who this woman of the ice kingdom truly was (which was aggravating on its own), and why in the bloody hell did she feel intimidated by Adam? The very notion made Shel’s skin crawl.

Watching the other women with amusement, Mynx turned to peer at the words written in Vel’s book. Snarling at her lack of understanding, she rose from her chair to join Su Lin on the floor, sitting next to the woman to help keep her steady. “No more questions for you...you drunk. Sit still and lean on cat.” She looked hard at the assassin, wondering how she was going to feel about all she had revealed tonight. She gently brushed a stray strand of hair off Su’s face. “You have magic powder for sickness in morning? You need it...and water.” She reached for the pouch at her waist, opening the deer bladder and handing it over. “Drink,” she demanded, her attention shifting to the next roll of the die.

“Jamon bad choice. Hawk better. More man. He make better crush.” The words she had spoken were said quietly, meant only for their ears. She smiled to herself, thinking on the last encounter the two killers had had together. Su had been so clueless. She snorted, puffing out a breath, then placed her hand on Su’s knee.

As Mynx sat next to Su Lin, Su Lin blankly stared around the room as Mynx spoke. Finally Su Lin ‘whispers’ back, rather loudly thinking it was softly whispered, her lip slightly pouty

“I ishnt drunk, I doshnt dwink…” before leaning closer to Mynx, still somewhat ‘whispering’ to the point others could still hear “you wong, Jamon haz to bee mah kruch, the boy ish safe, he ish nice boy, a lil stupid, but nice, safe…” a soft genuine smile forms on her lips thinking back on her and Hawk’s last meeting “...yoush shaw Hawk, how we talks, the strange words he shays, how we enjoys talkin. No, he kan nots be mah krush, haz to be the boy, the boy doznt make hard to breathe when look at him like Hawk does me, boy doz not make my chest feel funny when lookn ats him, no, the boy iz safe krush. I kan kill boy tonight, I kan nevr think about kill Hawk, boy ish safe krush, you shee?” looking to Mynx with a confused look on her face.

Oh really? And I am the Ice Queen of Salivan, Shel sarcastically thought at Su’s denial regarding her level of intoxication. Bloody hell.

Vel woundred if Su even knew the meaning of a crush before searching for the dice and once obtaining them offered them to Sheva.

“Of course I am prettier than Mornith!”, Sheva said in a whisper as her cheeks grew red. How could anyone think otherwise!? She tossed the dice and looked at the questions associated with the die number, “Hmm… we all have sins in our past… however I don’t think any of them should be named as truly horrible ones…. After all… Both sides were equally at fault, my conscious is clear!”, Sheva drank and drank and drank, to the point she forgot to wipe her lips. Saying that she was in peace of mind was a lie, but that was one of the things she was not ready to speak of yet. And what would it matter anyway? Would anyone be interested in unending war between humans and nonhumans? Would anyone be interested in terrorisam that bloomed in such condition and in war between family? … would anyone be interested in how she cut off the life of many who twisted her life forever… would anyone be interested to know that she was not at fault? Well… not really at fault…

Bah… If Shel and Su could keep their secrets, so could Sheva. She chose the bottle and drank her fill before allowing another girl the turn to roll them.

Selene had been running, running down the narrow streets that she saw that day, following her new master and the useless child who - for reasons she couldn’t understand - was under her master’s protection. In her mind, the city was plunged into darkness, the night sky covered by heavy, menacing storm clouds, ready to split open and shatter the thick air with thick raindrops. The shops and vendors they had passed by were all closed, thick wooden plaques covering the stall doors. All of the smart people had hidden in their homes and lodgings, allowing the wolf to silently stalk the roads, her leg finally healed but the pain of the broken bones still present in her memory.

This seemed to natural, a scene that happened often enough in the lycan’s life. She would be sent by her master to scout out the territory, hunt down his prey and then ...the rest depended on what exactly he wanted to do. In her dream, she wasn’t sure what she was doing there. For once, she couldn’t remember the order, couldn’t figure out what her master wanted. Her nose picked up a few faint scents of people but the overpowering taste of the upcoming rain blocked them, making her feel as though she was pushing against molasses, trying to find her way. She stopped, tongue hanging out of her snout and her eyes gazing around her, confused. And then she ran…

Sitting up with a start, her arm throbbing in protest but nestling comfortably enough in its sling, Selene took a few shallow breaths, trying to get a feel of her bearing. The room where she was in was dark - mostly. Rather, it wasn’t the room but the corner where she had fallen asleep, clawing sometimes at the smooth surface of the floor. A bit away, the rest of the group sat and the distinct sound of die against the wooden boards echoed among whispers and loud exclamations. Quietly, Selene tilted her head, listening as the die hit the floor once again and one of the women reached for a book, rustling the papers for a second. The orc sat nearby the….was it another undead? The lycan silently scowled, revealing sharp canines. That was cause for an investigation.

There were so many things the ocecat wanted to say to Su Lin, but she kept her mouth closed, knowing her words would be lost on the drunk woman. Instead she focused on Sheva and huffed as another question was avoided. She rose to grab the offered die, her other hand reaching for the bottle of wine. “Game played with answers…” she mumbled as she tossed the cube on the ground, frowning when a single dot was displayed. She started to mull over her answer, her head swiveling suddening to the sound of rustling in the dark corner. Her lip lifted, a low growl emitted. “Stay…” she commanded to the lycan, her ice-colored eyes narrowing.

Almost as quickly as she had turned her head, she was back in the game, drawing a long swig directly from the bottle. She offered an apologetic smile, then sat in the chair by the ruined cosmetics.

“Cats no marry….we take mates...but if must choose…” she let out a breath, a soft hum accompanying it, her pause drawing out for some time before she bit into her lower lip. There were only a few choices as she knew no one outside of the Guild well enough to mate. She narrowed her pick down to two, looking at each woman briefly before finally answering. “Tris...I marry him,” she said firmly.

Vel glanced over her shoulder at the werewolf in the corner as Mynx snarled in her direction. Looking to the scowling face of the girl from under her hood. Another cursed she thought again, Another one with a sharp nose. Somehow she’d managed not to rouse Mynx’s suspicion of her, or perhaps Mynx simply did not care but this one might pose a problem.

Vel looked back to Mynx as she spoke. Did Ocecat’s mate for life? She wondered before she flipped her book around to ask that exact question before she paused remembering that Mynx couldn’t even read her writing. She sighed before looking down to see who was next and was a little annoyed to find herself.

Praying that she’d get a number six, as the second least intrusive question she slowly picked up the dice and frowned at them. Before she tossed them. She watched as a set of dots totaling four looked back at her. The same question Shel had gotten not two rolls earlier. The answers were yes, and because, which she stubbornly wrote into her book.

Shel was so distracted by her own thoughts that she paid little attention to what was being said or written. Well, at least until the ocecat decided she held some sort of authority to shout out commands at the prisoner. The orc’s eyes burned with a fire as she tilted her head slowly, conspicuously. Shel wanted Mynx to see just how deliberate this reaction was.

“The prisoner needs water, not orders,” the orc calmly informed the ocecat as she stepped away from her place at the threshold to snatch the stupid deer bladder that had been abandoned by Su. There was little left in it, but still. This was to make a point. The orc veered towards the lycan and tossed the pouch in her general direction, hoping that she would catch it.

Now it’s really time to leave, Shel thought, turning her back on Mynx and everyone as she grabbed the smoking pipe and headed towards the door. After such a harrowing raid, the orc wanted no problems and hoped that the ocecat felt the same. Because...

Balder was wrong. I’m not needed here.

Selene caught the orc’s offering silently if awkwardly with her off hand, her eyes calmly taking in the situation. The cat-woman didn’t like her which was natural enough but she also seemed drunk. Now that she was more awake and able to acknowledge her bearings, she realized that quite a few of the women were drunk. Ducking her head, she hid her smirk. Simple creatures, these humans and cats, never realizing that danger was always present. The deer bladder contained enough water to cool her throat and Selene finished it up happily before putting it on the floor beside her.

The orc started to move away and the lycan focused her gaze on her, tilting her head in an inquisitive way. Was she to follow? Her master had given her to the giant - thankfully without the water procedures he threatened with - and the monster had given her to the orc to watch. Now, the orc was leaving and she hadn’t ordered Selene to stay. So, if she was to follow her master’s orders, she should follow the orc. Shaking her head since she had managed to confuse herself, the lycan gingerly started forward, her eyes fixed on the woman with the giant pipe.

A low growl started deep in the ocecat’s chest, building in volume as she rose to her feet. How dare the orc touch her belongings...and for what?...to give to the cur! The feline’s gaze bore into Shel’s retreating form, daring her to turn and face her adversary. Mynx had seen the burning look the orc had given her...her addled mind registering a challenge, and as a predator, she would not stand down.

Starting forward at a slow pace, the cat targeted the orc’s back. Although she was not drunk, she was compromised from the mix of drink, catnip, and tobacco...enough that her inhibitions were gone. This in turn made her more dangerous, the promise she had made to Dagur to keep her teeth and claws out of any altercations with Rogue members slipping into the cracks at the back of her mind. She was a proud ocecat and she would defend her honor!

Little thought went into her approach, Mynx pausing briefly before she charged to bunch her muscles in preparation. Perhaps the hesitation was also her subconscious’ way of reaching out to stay her hand, but when she saw the lycan’s movement in her peripheral vision, any thought of retreat was lost.

Mynx charged forward, the target of her rage shifting to Selene, the injured creature perceived as a bigger threat now that she was on the move. The cat’s growl morphed into a howl, the feline leaping into the air as she prepared to tackle the dog. Instead of one lycan, she saw three...the memory of a trio of young curs in mid-shift as they charged her in much the same manner several years ago fresh in her mind. Phantom pain ripped along her body as she sailed towards her target, their bodies colliding solidly once she touched ground. The two grappled briefly for dominance, Selene at a slight disadvantage due to her broken arm.

Shel did not plan on anyone following her, nor did she want it. So when the prisoner began to hone in and hover towards her like some lost pup, the orc shifted uncomfortably to reprimand the lycan with a fixed stare.

Stop it! Why are you following me? Run away!

Yet Shel did not stew on Selene’s docility for long… as Mynx was on the prowl. Hardening her shoulders, Shel tensed up, at first figuring that she was the primary target. But it soon became clear that who the ocecat truly hated was the prisoner.

Remaining by the doorway, the orc immediately knelt down and lingered there for a few beats to properly assess the attack—blinking once, twice, thrice—before forcibly jabbing the long stem pipe between the legs of the duelling pair. Shel then arched her back and secured her stance, using a twisting motion to maneuver the pipe in an up-curl like some bow staff. Hopefully this obstacle would be enough to trip both Mynx and Selene, bringing both of them to their knees.

Unfortunately for the orc, both cat and dog managed to keep their feet, Mynx reacting like a typical feline, prancing around the obstacle nimbly. The added nuisance only compounded her rage as she pushed away from Selene to create some space between them, her claws extending as she swung out at the girl’s face.

“Don’t harm her!” Shel blurted out to no one in particular, but the words were too little too late. Selene’s submission was so extreme that she froze and was struck by the ocecat’s claw, and for what? Why? Who do these things happen? As always, the orc blamed herself, as she always tended to judge herself even harsher than others. “For a few droplets of water? I can find more! I will find more.” After making this proclamation like some soothsayer to Mynx, Shel looked to Vel with pleading eyes, hoping for backup even as she fortified her inner musings within her psyche.

I. will. find. more.

That was a promise.

Nevertheless, Shel knew from experience that rhyme and reason could rarely deter a predator, much less penetrate their thick skulls. The only accent the rapacious sort understood was one of force and humiliation, so the orc knew she must match such tactics. Yet more violence after the raid seemed too exhausting now and I’ll be damned before I risk my face again. So Shel simply chose to alter her tone, her eyes turning rascally above a thinly veiled smirk. Let it be known that the orc was unafraid to poke the lioness when it was necessary.

“But now you will have to explain to Dagur why you attacked his prisoner. And do you really think Tris will ever accept any ‘proposal’ of sleeping with you, serious or otherwise, after hearing this? The prisoner is under his protection, *zu baran.”

Thrusting her head forward to deliver a bite, Mynx froze mid-strike, her head swiveling to glare at the orc. Shel had used the one name that could affect her behavior, that of her current alpha. There was no fear, just an unspoken respect and subservience to his word. Only Dagur truly dominated over her. Mynx let out a sound, a mix of chitter and growl, her lip lifting in defiance. Tris was of no real importance and Dagur was not here...she decided it was better to beg forgiveness later, the cur only getting her due. The feline bared her teeth again, turning back to her prey and ignoring the orcish jab, her mind too distracted to pick up on any of Shel’s threats.

Vel started up, her chair clattering to the floor. She’d watched Mynx stalk forward but had hoped the cat had enough sense not to go for the full pounce. The agile cat, though hampered was still much faster then Vel was.

Dropping ink, pen and book Vel lunged after the cat as Shel attempted to break the two apart from a distance. Catching Shel’s pleading look Vel tried to grab up the angry cat from behind and pull her back away from the prisoner as Shel spoke. Vel wasn’t really sure that what the Orc said would be of any help or fuel the fire. As it was the only thing Vel could do was lock her arms around the woman and hold her there till she calmed down some since her voice was all but useless.

The sudden jerk and enfolding embrace caught the ocecat by surprise, a mewling sound escaping her lips. Strong arms surrounded her, trapping her against a solid body. Mynx reacted instinctively, her immobile arms useless, but her claws free to imbed into the flesh of the attacker behind her. She threw her head back, rocking her body from side to side to loosen the hold. All proved useless, the cat finally giving in to her fate, her muscles relaxing enough to feign surrender.

As Su Lin watches all unfold with Mynx rushing toward the Lycan, the Orc and the hooded girl intervening, like in the Alley more than a week past where Mynx stood by her side, Su Lin will also stand by Mynx side as other are perceived to be causing her undue interference. With that Su Lin stands quickly to her feet … and sways unsteady, a queasy feeling in her stomach, her own face red as the room seems to be unsteady. In a somewhat garbled tone

“Mynch, ey dons feels good…” now holding her hands to her queasy stomach while she staggers forward in Mynx direction “...kanz youshe gets be to shom air…” … Su Lin’s eyes watering and making a couple gagging sounds.

Selene stumbled back, the cat now gripped by the hooded undead. Blood trickled down her cheek from three deep scratches, making the lycan bare her teeth and give a low growl. The damn flea infested feline caught her just as Selene was about to duck, extending her unwashed claws just a few millimeters further. Hot, thick and with a distinct scent of iron, the wolf watched her blood drop down onto the floor, mesmerized by the darkness and thickness.

“Bloody cat, I won’t forget it,” Selene whispered, glaring with a confidence that one rarely saw in a prisoner. Except, she wasn’t the typical prisoner - there were no ropes or chains or collars. She was a loyal dog and while Tris hadn’t allowed her to challenge those under his protection, surely he would feel differently if she had been attacked. She was about to respond with a hit of her own but froze, the phrase about the giant and water coming to mind. Was he serious? What if every witch and drunk ass woman here decided to hurt her, should she just stand there and accept the abuse? She was a prisoner but not a threat! At least not until they turned on her master.

The swaying woman caught her eyes, slurred speech and cloudy gaze making her scowl in disgust. How could people do that to themselves, poison their bodies and be so wasted? She had seen it enough in her prey and those around her, the strong scent of alcohol unmistakable. Selene crouched down to the floor, her body tense and ready to move - once was enough and if she had to break her orders to defend herself, she would. After all, who was Tristifer to her? A master but what had he really done to gain her undying obedience? The different thoughts and emotions running through her made her hesitate and wait, trying to determine what she was to do.

Although Su Lin and Selene caught the feline’s attention, Mynx did not struggle in the undead’s grip. She filed away the wolf’s threat...there would always be another day to fight...and bowed her head in submission. She pleaded silently for Su to aid her...to end the wolf’s life so she could be reborn...as something better. “Kill wolf”, she mouthed to her friend, hoping the intoxicated assassin would see her plea. In a voice that held a note of weariness, she asked Vel to release her, promising to behave if only she could have her freedom. The tight grip was causing the feline pain, the zombie’s arms pressing hard against her bruised ribs. It wasn’t the discomfort which she hoped to end...but rather the anxiety of being trapped with her worst enemy before her, hunkered down and ready to strike.

Sheva got up and threw her glass to the floor, shattering it in the process, making the shards spread around the room along with the rest of her precious bottles and make up, “Hey, Mynx!”, she said while swaying, “We don’t always kill people who makes us angry… I mean… I would have needed to kill you for all the makeup yes?”, she moved closer to the cat woman and pet her, “If we don’t work together… what is the point of any of this yes?”, She began to giggle like mad woman, as though she said a joke or something, “Army life is about working together… in team… And I’m sure none of our respected commanders would like any of this yes?”, She looked at Su, “Not even our prince!”, she then looked at Vel, “Nor our crushes!”, she then looked at Shel, “Nor our giants, and…”, she looked at Selene and then at Mynx, “Nor our enemies”, she picked up the dice from the floor, nearly falling in the process and then she threw it away with such force that it flew outside a near window making Sheva burst out with laughter, “Whelp, I guess it’s game over… don’t worry dear Shel… I’ll go out and”, she hiccuped, “find it!”, she laughed again as she waved everyone, “Just work those issues while I am searching for that damn dice, and be good, otherwise

lady Orc will rat on us to the giant, and then it’s extra kitchen duties… And maybe tending those smelly chickens... and no, you cannot eat any of them”, she looked at Mynx and before long she was outside the room, not before slipping her bare hand on Mynx’s face, her eyes changing color a little as the magic began working. She whispered to Mynx, “We need to make ourselves pretty and be calm!”, the magical order was input inside the Ocecat’s mind, along with somewhat subtle, relaxing sensation... and then sheva was gone.

Vel eyed the werewolf wryly before turning her body and bringing Mynx with her till she was standing between the two. It didn’t matter to her so much if the wolf attacked her back, the canine wouldn’t survive the encounter if she did.

She slowly released her grip around the ocecat and took a step away. Everyone was so heavily intoxicated, even Sheva was giggling like a madwomen, Su looked ready to puke and Mynx was a breath away from clawing the throat out of someone. It was best if the game ended here as Sheva tossed the dice out the window.

Once she was certain that Mynx had her senses back she moved to Su, the women clearly was not feeling well and gently took her by the shoulders to steer her towards the window, some fresh air and an open space to let her guts out was in order, she wasn’t sure she had the time to wait to get down the hall.

The ocecat shook her head once she was free from restraint and looked around the room with confusion. The last thing she remembered was Sheva...and the mage touching her face. Mynx had never had any way to ward off magic and was very susceptible to it...but it didn’t mean she did not know when it had been used on her. A low growl erupted in her chest, an acknowledgment to the fact that she was displeased, but she did not act on it. She took a step in Vel’s direction, hoping to connect with Su Lin. Wearily she peered at the wolf, but the earlier encounter had been defused, and she had other worries on her mind now. Her friend needed assistance. Bending down to pick up her empty deer skin, Mynx idly tore it to shreds with her claws, dropping it on the ground by her feet.

“Poisoned,” she said in a low grumble, glancing briefly at the orc before she followed Su Lin to the window.

As Mynx approached, Su Lin looked at the smashed glass about the room and mumbled “I donts shink we kan shweep here Minks, wh’cha thinks?” glancing to Vel “tanks for da gam, ich wav fum.” before taking the lead and staggering toward the door, the fresh air from the window having calmed her stomach. As she stepped out of the room and took a quick glance around to see if Sheva was in the hall, Su Lin continued outside the building. Looking to the blur she assumed was Mynx “We shweep nowz, i’z busgy in ta mormimn.”

The feline rested her hand upon Su’s shoulder, giving her a subtle nod as she tried to shake the desire within her to rest and sleep. Walking side by side, Mynx assisted the weaving woman, stopping once they came to a soft patch of grass.

“You sleep here,” she offered, helping Su get comfortable. “You need give message to Tris...Mynx go hunt...be back soon.” She looked hard into the other’s eyes, wondering if anything she was saying was registering. “Don’t forget...I hunt. No need to look for cat.” She patted her friend’s shoulder, waiting until she heard her breathing shift to that of one who was asleep. She ensured the area was safe before she left, taking only the clothes on her back and her short sword, the rest of her belongings tucked safely away in Vel’s room. She slipped through the town unnoticed, cutting through the buildings to get to the wooded area beyond. The cool evening air cleared her head, her predator senses coming alive in the night.

Vel watched the two women go with a sigh before looking at the mess that was made. She looked to Shel once then the werewolf before she tracked over the broken glass of Sheva’s glass and her inkwell. What a mess. Picking up her book to find that some of the pages were soaked in ink, creeping over the edge. Fortunately the page with the letter was safe and every page after that, but the pages near the front of her book were ruined.

It should be just enough to finish translating those letters. Setting the book to the side in the hopes to let it dry Vel began going through her pack and pulling out one of her soiled shirts and dropped it on the ink puddle to begin cleaning it.

The new faced elf in the room had managed to find a broom and smartly swept the glass up like a small wind before she left the room with the shards. As she vanished down the hall the elf wasn’t certain she wanted to be in the middle of this drama as they continued to their destination. Besides, she had other work to do.

Selene watched the cat and the drunk leave, growling as she sensed more than saw, magic being used. Whoever the witch was, Selene would never allow her close enough to touch. For all that she never really was easily susceptible especially in her wild form, she was not about to chance her luck. The undead seemed to be unamused at the destruction and, along with the elf, was cleaning the room, shooting the lycan a meaningful look of...dead eyes. Silently baring teeth, Selene edged slowly around the room to the door, slipping past the orc and quickly taking in a deep breathe. The room she had woken up - the one containing her master’s few possessions - was up a floor and without hesitation, the girl was trotting to the door, deciding that it was safer to wait there, protecting what little space she had enjoyed.

The door was locked but a few minutes of work with an old piece of twine and Selene was in, closing the door behind her. What a ridiculous night - were all women like that? From what she had seen, she was glad to be a monster. No need for such rigorous freedoms of booze and fake friendships. All the excitement had once again drained her, her broken arm echoing the discomfort. Opening the window to the cold air and stealing a pillow from the bed, Selene dragged the carpet to be under the fluttering curtains and setting up a comfy spot for herself with a good view of the door in case anything were to happen. Snuggling into the softness, she felt her eyelids getting heavy and within a few minutes was sleeping - this time, without dreams.

All the while, Shel stood… watching and waiting… pulling the pipe up from the floor to lean against as she witnessed everything that occurred. Not only had her blockade been unsuccessful, but Sheva’s drunken accusations were unappreciated. Why is she calling me a spy? Shel wondered as the room veered towards Mynxella.

What have I done? Shel wondered, this exact feeling being nothing new to her. People only looked towards those that mattered to them—this Shel knew very well—even if those they protected were in the wrong. Yet why did they hate her? When she first spoke to Balder earlier, her face had still been gravely hurt, so she had not been keen on going out on the town as the giant had initially suggested. But she had to do something, didn’t she?

Trying her best to entertain, the orc nostalgically looked back to her younger years and brought everyone to Vel’s room... even if it was against her will. So why was there no thanks for these things? Was it because she still the newcomer, the outsider? Shel paused at Sheva’s earlier words about shepherding.

More like a black sheep with no shepherd dressed in black wolves’ clothing.

Poisoned.

Blinking slowly, Shel almost felt hurt by the words of the ocecat, but shook her head dismissively instead as she headed towards the door. Why does everything I touch become a curse? Shel ripped off the red sash that she had tied to the iron knob before she disappeared into the void of the corridor.

[Highland Sniper]

Rondoza was in the Bull's Head Tavern, performing his fire tricks that most called juggling. he did do a little bit of that, but it was something more. he spun into thread, he blew it like it was a flaming balloon, he even did the average fire breathing act. most of the crowd seemed to love his act, but he caught a few looks of possible hatred or greed. obviously, they thought he was making a good amount of money off his little show.
He took another swig of whiskey and spit out a wod of fire into his hands and started to mold it, making a small dog in the process. he allowed it to run around the room, in between the legs of the crowd and over the tables.
he snuffed out the flames and bowed. "I thank you all for coming, I invite you to come back for a good fiddlin' tomorrow at noon!" he said, "a good dance will do some of you some good, feel free to bring along the ladies!"

He stepped off the table he was on and walked into the kitchen as the cook set down his plate "thanks Gertha, your food is always so filling" he said as he sat down "and I am famished, that little show took it out of me." he began to dig into his late meal of beef, carrots, baked potato, and a mug of some good ale.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Yn didn’t have a chance to respond to Jamon’s question about being able to stand, as Adam took over on teaching him how to fight dirty. It was a vast difference from what he had learned about fighting, but with the difference in upbringing, it made sense. Not everyone could be trained the same way. Allowed Adam to take over, he took a few breaths to steady himself, making sure to get some water in him as well, as the Sky Father’s water didn’t settle well with him now that he had to be moving. Thankfully he had time to get some food and normal water into his stomach for the fights. As he watched Jamon learn how to fight, that he would have to pull most of the weight in some of these fights. Though for now he would do his best to allow Jamon some actual battle experience.

“Jamon, we’re up. Don’t worry, I won’t let others try and squish you.” Yn promised the young man as the action began moving to the back, followed by the throngs of people ready for the battle.


“Alright you drunk bastards, it's time for the battle night, so let's get the fight started. Bets have been placed, so let’s get this going!” The bar owner egged on the crowd, letting them stew before motioning to the ring. Yn had already entered, bending down with one hand on his knee and the other pointing to the ground.

“In this corner, long time patrons and a favorite of the crowds, we have Slizar the Slayer and Bexatar the Killer!” The Owner announced the pair, as the two entered from their side. A rather hefty Troll appeared on the scene, followed by a Goblin, a rather stout looking one that had more than a devious grin on his face.

“I’ll take the midget, he looks like fun.” The Goblin spoke, cackling with glee.

“Doesn’t matter to me. Let’s end this quickly, we got better fights tonight.” The Troll spoke, finally bringing his arms down and adopting a fighting stance. Yn chuckled as he studied the two of them, eyes locking with Yn for a few moments before smiling.

“And in this corner, we have Galabor the Beast Lord and Jalben Youngblood!” The announcer spoke, with a mix of boos and cheers. Yn glanced around them before focusing back on the target. Yn leaned close to Jamon.

“I have a plan. Think you can distract the Troll while I take on shorty?” Yn spoke, tensing his body and getting ready for the word go.

Ashvel had no interest in learning a different way of fighting. In fact he didn’t like to fight if he could avoid it. Though, he has had more than his share of taking on the living, and the Cursed. Not wanting to ever go back to that kind of life he chose the healer’s path. But that didn’t mean he didn’t like to watch a good fight. But a grin crossed his face as he drank the whole mug of alcohol in one go, and then made his way over to the bar.
He was going to place a bet. So getting ahold of the of the bet master he pulled out a small bag of gold coin. “I would like to place twenty gold coin on the first fight. I am betting the two newbies will win this bout.” Ashvel said keeping his face hidden and handing over the gold. The man giggled with joy at the fact of making some easy money. However the man didn’t know who the two are, and that is how Ashvell wanted it. It was an easy way of making a few coins.

Once the bet was made he ordered another mug of amber liquid. Returning to the table before the lesson was over. He never saw them fight in the raid, but he figured they lived through that and they will win. Even if they don't, everything will be fine.

Then it came time, and Ashvel followed the rest of the patrons and contestants to the ring. Making sure he had a front seat to watch the brawl he smiled as the contestants entered the ring. There was a troll and a goblin. They looked to be formidable, but not strong enough to worry about. “Let’s see if they can keep up.” Ashvel spoke in a low tone as he waited for the fist fight to begin. Though it looked like Yn had a plan to win the fight.

Tristifer grumbled as he moved from the woods towards the roadhouse. First he was late because of some dumb blacksmith's need to be important, then Adam wasn't here. So Tris headed back into town and wasted time checking the various bars there. Tired of the search he made his way back to the Bull's Head only to encounter a small group of angry men heading away. Now he was still sober, had the same amount of money he started with, and his shirt was ripped. There might even be a new bloodstain on his boot; Tis the life of a Rogue though.

The archer strode through the door and grabbed a full mug from a passing serving tray, he tossed a coin onto the tray in its place. Tris moved deeper into the building, towards the noise of the crowd. His eyes scanned the faces, seeing a familiar face he moved over to it. Sliding into the empty chair near Adam, Tris downed the mug in a single swallow. "You got here late." He said as he set the mug down.

Adam burped polishing off his fifth or sixth drink as Tris finally decided to show up and actually accused Adam of being late. “Says, the last to arrive from the group. I had to hunt down the rest of the boys and walk them here, and now Jamon and Yn are gonna be fighting in some bloodsport, so what’s your excuse?” He chuckled grabbing his next drink leaning back as he observed the fighters getting themselves ready by wrapping cloth or leather around their knuckles and hands and pulling their shirts off.

“Somebody wasn’t here when I arrived so I had to go find him.” Tris replied, waving for a serving girl. “Not my fault he snuck around me to get here while I was out looking for him. And I already had a little bloodsport of my own.” He finished tugging his shirt to show Adam the new tear in his shirt. “Did you bet on Peanut yet?”

Adam pulled the shirt inspecting it. “Looks like wine to me, and no not yet but I think I saw Ash do that. Also did you catch some goons on their way out? I think they were Red Clouds, and little peanut was making friends with them. Big guy was named Kharn or something.”

Yn having spoken of distracting the Troll, Jamon looked the troll over carefully drifting back to what Adam had just taught him about this new form of fighting while recalling bits of what that awful girl had also spoken about. This opponent was tall and stout so single strikes are out of the question. More than anything, Jamon focuses more on avoiding direct punches from this troll as they might be a bit much for him to endure. His own expression going blank so as not to allow this troll read his thoughts through physical mannerisms. A somewhat monotone response from Jamon “Let’s do this then.”

"And that's why you are in the melee and leave the shooting to me." Tristifer snorted, "Claiming a rip looks like wine. Those were probably the gentlemen I encountered in the woods; Guess it's luck they weren't entirely sober and I was already armed." The archer flourished his fingers and the blade he took from the girl spun through them before disappearing back up his sleeve.

"And glad to see our boys getting a little support." Tris stated. "Am a little surprise you're not down there though."

Adam shrugged swirling his drink around for a few seconds. “I’ve had my fill of ass-kickings this week, besides the boys need to learn some good old-fashioned brawling.”

"And then some." Tristifer added, "So who kicked your ass?"

“Alright, let’s get started.” Yn spoke in mild surprise, seeing Jamon rather calm. Most would call him crazy for not taking the Troll on himself, as he would make a much better target due to their size. With a shrug he rolled his body and awaited the call to begin the fight. Once the call rang out he sprung into action. Flattening the hand facing towards the ground he used both his knees and hands to spring forward, one hand reaching out as he aimed for the Goblin, reaching forward as his body straightened out.

The Goblin, a bit taken aback, quickly backpedaled out of Yn’s reach, keeping his distance as Yn continued to lunge, avoiding as Yn made a grab for the small male. The shorter Gulk had a much clearer head though, using his size to dart in and land hits before dodging back and out of the way of Yn’s swings and grabs, luring the boy around the circle as he landed blows against Yn.

Yn himself did his best to defend against the blows, his right arm taking the brunt of the hits as he chased the Goblin around the field while making wild grabs at the speedy little Gremlin.

Adam chuckled. “Just the bandits from the woods so far, but that was enough for me. So where’s your little girl pet? Thought she’d be on your heels the whole night.”

Tristifer raised an eyebrow as he took a pull from his drink. "Assuming you mean the prisoner? She should be working for the Giant. Why would she be following me? It's not like you and her majesty."

Tris turned his eyes to the fight. "By the way, does she keep your testicles under her pillow at night, or does she let you wear them to bed?"

Adam laughed loudly thumping Tris hard on his back. “That bitch’ll more likely cook them than keep them, hence why I keep them away from her. As for the Lycan girl, you beat her in a fight and captured her. By Lycan law she’s yours now whether you want her or not. Be happy, I hear Lycan girls can be quite...feral in bed.”

As Adam and Tris continued to talk and Yn was maneuvering the Goblin, Jamon had been methodically tracking the Troll’s movements keeping in mind all that the awful girl as well as Master Adam had instructed him during the short span of being given useful advice. As he finally moves in to the Troll, he feels a lightning sting shoot through his body as the Troll lands a series of punches. As he was keeping pace with the Troll, those were glancing blows, not direct, otherwise the boy would be easily on the floor.

Now close to the Troll, Jamon open palm thrusts his hand up into the chin of the Troll as the awful girl had him do as naturally as his own breathing followed by bouncing to the left and right as Master Adam had shown him moments ago following this with a series of blows thrown into the chest and stomach area of the Troll catching it by surprise, Jamon may have been underestimated by his opponent, as the awful girl says ‘a fatal flaw of many’.

Seeing Yn seeming to direct his opponent, Jamon thrusts a front kick toward the Troll’s ribcage ensuring he could retract the kick should the Troll grab for his leg. The kick does not connect but serves the intended result, the Troll easily darts back away from the kick in the direction of where the Goblin is.

“Cursed tiny midget!’ Yn bellowed at the Goblin, blocking another hit to the chin, only to take one to the stomach. He had been moving the fighter as much as he could, taking as many grabs and grapples as he could, yet allowing the man to slip through. He himself was sporting some good hits, peppering his body with small bruises. It was clear the goblin was trying to shake him, but Yn was trained to hunt, making tracking prey rather easy.

The Goblin itself wasn’t the most aware of the situation, which lead to him backing up into the Troll as the other backed up from Jamon’s kick. The Goblin let out a grunt as he turned his head back to the Troll to scold the fool, annoyed that the two had bumped into each other.

“Watchit ya rock.” The goblin insulted the Troll, taking his eyes off Yn for just a few brief seconds. It was more than enough for Yn to enact his plan. Lunging with his entire body, he was just slow enough that the Goblin jumped atop him, planning to ride Yn and push him under the feet of his partner. A wicked smile appeared at the thought of his partner crushing Yn’s head under foot because of the young bloke’s rashness. His plan didn’t go well though, as he was kinda amazed at what happened next.

Yn hadn’t actually aimed for the Goblin, but for what was behind him, namely the leg of the Troll. Planting his right foot under his body, Yn grabbed the Troll’s leg and surged upwards. Not expecting it, the Troll had just enough thought to grab Yn by the head, hoping to toss the boy off him. Even that was moments too late as he didn’t have enough of a stance to actually grab Yn.

“The fuck?!” The Goblin swore in shock as Yn pushed his left leg in front and heaved back, dropping both him and the Troll, right atop the Goblin. Already feeling the wind rush from his lungs, Yn released the hold on the Troll’s leg and rolled away, taking a moment to catch his breath as he looked over the stunned Troll and unconscious Goblin, the latter having been caught mid run under the troll from both the sheer idiocy and surprise of the action.

“That’s … one.” Yn spoke, already seeing the Troll coming back to its senses.

Having mentally played this out, it did not go as Jamon thought but the effect was the same, Yn had incapacitated the Goblin and the Troll was in a vulnerable position. While the Troll started to come back to his senses, Jamon double clenched his hands and struck the Troll in the temples with enough force to send stunning shock waves through his head to render the second opponent unconscious. Still reeling from the hits he took earlier, Jamon staggers back coming to a crouch readying himself should the Troll, or as that matters, the Goblin would gain consciousness before this battle was declared over.

The crowd watched, mixture of laughter and cheering, looking to the dazed Troll and pinned Goblin. The blow by Jamon, along with having dropped onto the ground, was enough to keep the Troll out long enough to keep the Goblin from wriggling free. The ref came over and checked on the Troll, checking the contestant over before looking to the crowd.

“By surprise methods, the newcomers are the winners! They shall advance to the next round!” The ref spoke to the cheering crowd. The bouncers came in to help pull the unconscious Troll and Goblin away as the small creature swore in anger from the loss, having felt cheated due to such a stupid stunt.

“Well, that seems to have worked better than expected, but I don’t think that’ll work again..” Yn spoke to Jamon as they moved into the crowd for the next fight. Yn still felt the sting of the Goblins punches, and even then the sobriety of the hits. Looking to the waitress that Jamon had been ogling before, he requested a mug of water, needing to clear his head. Yn let out a chuckle as he leaned against the fence, sipping the water.

“Hope ya liked the fight.” Yn asked the other guys as the next group of fighters came out.

The fight didn't last as long as Asvel thought it would have, and both men only sustained minor injuries. Though they will be feeling the injuries in the morning. Yet this was only one fight, and he was sure there would be more to come. Finishing his drink by the time the fight ended he figured it was time to get a refill, and see how the broker was faring with his large bet.

Moving from the fight and returning to the bar ordering yet another drink. This time a little stronger, and then moved to the broker. Smiling at the man as he looked a little perturbed.

"Here to collect your winnings." The little man said in a monotone voices as he began to reach for a bag of coins.

"Well, I am not here to collect my winnings. I wish to place a bid on their next fight." Ashvel said with a slight satisfaction to his voice. If Yn and Jamon won again he would make quite the haul for one night. More than enough to pay for the drinks this evening, and any company the others might want for the night.

As soon as his next bet was placed Ashvel returned to the table with Adam and Tristifer were sitting at. "Looks like they won their fight." Ashvel said as he took a set and waited for the other to join them. "Deciding to join us Tristifer? I was wondering if you were going to stay in for the night."

The remainder of the night went by filled blood, sweat, spilled booze, and easy money. Using their unique combinations of sheer luck and trickery the boys managed to win all the way up to the semi-finals. And as their opponents were revealed Ash was glad he knew when to quit while he was ahead. A Dolg Gramar, the giant Wilderscales from the Ebonrock mountains to the West and a Wind Walker directly from the White Peaks that dominate the northern quarter of Esignol. A pair who had been traveling the land fighting any bloodsport they could, most would do this purely for the money, but these two. Gar-Ta and Maelstrom as they called themselves they did it for the pleasure and the experience. Martial Arts were a common skill learned by most travelers, but these two were dedicated to mastering as many forms as possible. No matter of luck would win the day for the two Rogue’s even Adam and Tris would have trouble with them, but still the boys put up a grand fight.

With injuries to brag about back at camp and a nice pile of money courtesy of Ash, Adam and Tris rented out the back corner of the Tavern right by the fireplace. Yn suffered a sprained wrist and elbow and an untold number of cuts and bruises, but Jamon suffered a little worse a full broken right arm, and a sprained left shoulder. Not to mention just as many cuts and bruises as Yn. It was still early by Tris’s reckoning and as Fray approached the group looking to be fresh of her shift, her hair and face was clean and she’d even cleaned off the front of her dress but as she saw the state Jamon was in no small measure of horror crossed her lovely young face. Adam assured her it wasn’t as bad as it looks, but if she wanted she could take the young boy into a private room and fix him up. Both youngsters lit up at the idea and soon with Fray’s help Jamon moved to one of the rooms upstairs while the rest of the men drank and enjoyed what night they had left.