Daerio Vardin's Story

Approaching Apothecary

The wagon rolled along the dirt road of Lian, the sun was peeking over high canyon walls. Mist still lightly dusted the air and hovered above the moist dirt as residents of Lian were beginning to wake, exiting their homes to get an early start on their day. The merchant had arrived just in time. The people of Lian would be flooding the streets soon, and he was eager to sell his wares. The blonde man peered over his shoulder, gazing between the kegs of ale, jars of honey, and sacks of cloth and rice at the pair of legs dangling off the back of his cart. He was still unconscious; good.

The wagon creaked to a stop before the Apothecary. He had seen a young man venture inside it, and if the door wasn’t locked, then the place was open. He climbed down from his cart and walked around to the back where the warrior he had found unconscious laid. From him, the merchant’s eyes flitted to the axes that he had added to his wears, and a delightful grin parted his lips, flaunting tombstone rows of teeth. Delerian steel would surely make him a pretty penny at the smith.

“Be glad I’m bringing you here. As much as I’d rather leave you on the doorstop, I won’t,” the merchant said.

He had actually felt guilty for stealing the warrior’s weapons but times were tough; and because the Delerian appeared to be exactly that—tough—he was sure he’d get over it. Grasping him at the ankles, the merchant tugged the warrior from the back of the cart to the ground.

When the Delerian’s back met the turf, a short spurt of air left his lips and his eyes cracked open to gaze at the sky that was painfully bright to his retinas that hadn’t quite adjusted. He was seeing blues, purples, pinks, reds, and black spots, the same mess he had begun to see when he ran out of water. He felt hands on his ankles and gazed in a daze at the blonde-headed man that was dragging him across dirt, grass, and then bumpy stones. Blinking slowly, the Delerian turned his head to glance back at the wagon he was being dragged from. He took notice of the axes in the back, leaned against the kegs. Those were some nice axes.

The Apothecary

The merchant’s bottom struck the door of the Hospice, and he dragged the warrior across the threshold.

“Good Morning!” he greeted, wondering if anyone was in. Of course; they had to be.

He dragged the Delerian before the front desk and released him with a relieved sigh. “Whew!”

Hospice (Apothecary's)

Laris's reaction to being spoken to made the young Apothecary smile warmly at him. The poor thing was so nervous, he needed all of the support he could get. Once the man stepped forward with the basket, Aleiva gently took it and started looking through it as Laris spoke. "It's-It's okay. Laris." She said gently. "It was nice of you to... help." Laris lack of knowledge on herbs meant some of the plants he brought were useless, but Aleiva couldn't bring herself to say so. Instead, she focused on the useful plants.

"Oh.. this is... kava kava.. It's good for-for head aches and m-muscle tension..." Aleiva commented, almost to herself. "You found some, some arjuna too.." While she wasn't low on ether, Aleiva could always dry the herbs for later use. For now, Aleiva set the basket on the front desk. "I-if you don't mind.. could I.. keep the basket and-and give it back after I hang the herbs to dry?" After asking, the girl instantly felt guilty and opened her mouth to say she would find another basket, but paused when the door opened...

Instead of someone from the village, it was a stranger. Once more it was a stranger dragging ANOTHER stranger! He was obviously a Delerian from the look of him, but Aleiva was more concerned by the fact that he seemed to be barely conscious than anything. He got a quick once over right there before the young apothecary spoke. "Oh! Uh.. S-sir?" Aleiva stammered at the stranger for a moment, but the fact that some one was in need of help forced her into being a little more decisive. Though, she spoke in the same, soft voice as before. "Please... put him on the table i-in the exam room." She requested hopefully as she pushed the door open. "L-Laris.. please.. help him."

Whether the men did as she asked or not, Aleiva would hurry into the exam room ahead of them to get things ready. Her quick assessment made Aleiva think the man was more exhausted, and possibly dehydrated, than anything. She would give him a closer inspection in a moment, but she wanted to get a glass and a bowl of water, along with a few choice herbs, out and ready beforehand.

Glass of water in hand, Aleiva returned to the Delerian's side, kneeling on the floor if the men didn't move him for her, and thanking them if they did. First things first, Aleiva had to try getting him to drink if he was able. "Here, drink this.." She offered, hopeful he could do so in his slightly delirious state. That state suggested stage two dehydration. To confirm her assumption, Alieva would first test the Delerian's skin turgor, if he allowed it, by gently pinching a small bit and lifting it with her free hand. Usually skin will snap right back into place, but the more dehydrated one is the longer it takes. She would also check his pulse to see how high it was if he let her, then put her hand to his forehead to check for the fever that can come with Dehydration.

Apothecary

The merchant had been relieved when he no longer felt the strain on his arms from dragging the Delerian about that was until the apothecary requested that he move the Delerian—again—to the exam room. His eyes narrowed as a long frown stretched his lips. Did she know how heavy he was? When she then requested for her friend to help him, the merchant shot Laris a teasing grin. Good, so he didn’t have to move him alone. He grabbed the warrior’s ankles, and if the other man grabbed him beneath his arms—which his upper body he felt was the heaviest—they could haul the warrior together, carrying him over to the hospital bed. Once there, the merchant released him and stepped back to give the young girl some space while she worked.

He ran the back of his hand across his forehead, drying a sheet of sweat before he smiled and informed, “I found him face down in the woods. He’s covered in desert dust, so I assumed he had been crossing the desert and must have run out of supplies. I can’t imagine someone making such a journey without a horse. It’s ludicrous; he’s lucky to be alive.”

The voices that surrounded the Delerian were very quiet as though his head was packed full of cotton balls. His eyes were half-lidded and were focused on the ceiling as a glass of water hovered over his face. The first few drops had dripped upon his lips, and the Delerian’s pupils dilated as his tongue swept over his dry and cracked lips to take in the remnants of water.

The merchant ran his fingers back through his long blonde hair as he saw the warrior was coming out of his condition. It made him uncomfortable to linger. Who knew when he would realize what he had done? He needed to leave while he had yet to see his face.

“Welp; he’s in good hands now. I’ll just be on my way. I got things to sell, you know. Goodbye!” the merchant bade before he briskly took his leave.

The Delerian raised his hand to grasp the glass and he dumped the water into his mouth, gulping it greedily until a sickness churned in his stomach. He paused in his drinking, turning his head to the side as a wave of nausea passed through him. His stomach had only needed a moment to adjust before he was able to swallow the water tucked away in his cheeks. Gasping softly, the Delerian closed his eyes and sighed in relief.

What village is this? the language that left his lips was native to Delère (Delerian). The warrior assumed that he was still within his country’s borders and within one of the conquered burgs.

The steam filling the room was heaven to her skin, and the warmth of the water melted away the soreness in her muscles. The wonderful effects of the special herbs she added to it before entering were helping all the more as the sweet scent of the plants mixed in with her skin and hair before she finally opened her eyes again and looked up at the ceiling of her little bathroom.

She inhaled deeply, letting it off on a sigh of content as she leaned her head from one side to the other, gently cracking it at both ends before leaning back once more.

"At times like this I almost wish that I weren't so engrossed in my training... It does get rather lonely around here since Aleiva's always working."

She closed her eyes as her mind began to wander to her days before training became important. She remembered vividly times where she would rely on others for comfort, especially her mother. Before the accident, she was always looking for her mother and hiding behind her, all the while hoping that things would work out. When they didn't, she would turn to her father. Today, however, things were very different.

Her eyes opened and she felt a single tear roll down her cheek.

At first it was almost surreal. Surely that tear wasn't really there, was it? She reached up and picked it up on the tip of her finger, staring at it for a long while as more began to fall.

"Wh-.... What is this?" She asked to nobody in particular in between small gasps of breath as her tears began to flow like a pair of rivers down her face.

She gripped her shoulders, hard, and her fingers dug into her skin causing small rivulets of blood to ooze forth from the now open wounds. There was no recognition of the pain through the memories and flowing thoughts which now cascaded through her mind, and her grip only tightened until she finally opened her eyes and saw what she was doing to herself. She released her grip and gently stroked her shoulders, smearing the blood over them before allowing her body to sink below the surface of the water. The blood began to wash off of her skin, but in the process it began to stick to the minerals and herbal liquids she had placed in the tub, staining the water red around her shoulders.

"That won't do... Aleiva's really going to let me have it this time." She said, a small and somewhat pained smile on her face.

Linde rose out of her tub and stepped over to a small cloth on the floor as she reached for her towel. Her blood was flowing slower, and it didn't stain her towel very much, but none the less it did stain it. Once she was done she got dressed into a small outfit resembling a nightgown which Aleiva had bought for her last year as a birthday present. It was a light material and looked almost like a one piece dress were it not for the small white frills on the collar and the lapels, not to mention that it stopped just above her knees which is where she liked it to be.

Aside from this small gown from Aleiva, she was wearing only her undergarments. Her arms and legs were bare, which was a sight not many had seen from her. She looked in the mirror and a glint of depression crossed her eyes. She turned from one side to the other, looking her body up and down while she wondered if she actually looked feminine anymore. When she was young she had big dreams of marriage and a family, but after the accident that all vanished in favor of becoming stronger. She continued to pose in front of the mirror as the memories of her childhood dreams came rushing back into her head.

"Am I... still a woman to these people?" She asked herself quietly.

She opened the door to her room from the bathroom and sat down on the edge of her bed, wondering if she should talk to Aleiva about getting her shoulders bandaged before a thought occurred to her. Aleiva had always been there for her and was always working hard to watch out for her despite how distant she always was, and Linde had to admire the girl's dedication to such an absent friend. Linde had done little to repay her, save for giving her the batches of herbs that she could not find for herself in the wilderness beyond her comfort zone, which was where Linde did most of her training.

"... I'll make her something..." She said softly as her eyes lit up and her face brightened.

"Yes! Something nice and something practical... But what to make?" She asked herself as she stood up and approached the door.

A thousand and one ideas began to rush through her head before a single thought finally occurred to her. Aleiva gathered her own herbs even though she let Linde find others that she could not reach in the wilderness, and she mostly used a basket for such an effort and would get the herbs mixed up and have to organize them upon her return.

"Yes, I'll make her a belt with pouches for different herbal ingredients!" She said aloud to herself as she opened the door.

"Aleiva!" She called out.

She was about to call again but suddenly cut it off as she saw the event unfolding before her as she rounded the corner of the hallway into the main room. On the floor before her was Aleiva and a new face. A quick examination of his feature confirmed him as Delerian and Linde came forward to Aleiva's side, watching as the man quickly downed the water and started speaking in Delerian. She understood his words, her father being a Delerian himself, and so she chose to answer the man's question since nobody else around her was doing so. She spoke softly and evenly in Delerian for him, supporting his head as she slowly lifted him to a more seated position.

"This is the village of Lian, on the border between Delère and Caelum. Who are you sir, and why have you come into such bad fortune as to be in such a state?" She asked.

Hospice (Apothecary's)

The merchant's words fell upon death ears. Aleiva was too engrossed in taking care of her new patient to notice his somewhat suspicious departure, and may not have picked up on it even if she had been paying attention. It was a relife that the man was able to drink on his own, that meant he would probably be fine with fluids and rest. Though the speed that the Delerian drank the water was cause for concern. For a moment, she was sure he would throw the water back up. It was only after the man spoke that the young Apothecary reached out to gently take the empty glass. "Please... you must drink m-more slowly or-or you'll make yourself sick." She said softly. Now that she knew the man wasn't in mortal danger, Aleiva's timid nature returned with a vengeance.

Aleiva wasn't sure when she had come out of the back, but she heard Lindie's voice. Suddenly the woman was at her side, helping the Delerian sit up and answering his question. Aleiva also noticed her friend was wearing the dress she had gotten for her... and that her bare arms had small wounds in them. While this made her frown, the girl could only tend one patient at a time.. she would have to examine the wounds later. It was still a relief to have Linde there, she was a great source of moral support and spoke Delère much better than the young apothecary. Thanks to her father, Aleiva did speak some Delère; enough to get by at least. However, Aleiva was not fluent.

As Linde spoke with the Delerian, Aleiva walked back to the barrel and refilled the glass. This time Aleiva added a couple of herbs, a little pellitory and barberry, to the water before returning to offer the glass to the Delarian once more. "It may taste bitter, but it will support your kidneys." She said softly. Sever dehydration could cause the Kidneys to shut down. Aleiva didn't see any yellowing to say they were damaged, but the herbs wouldn't hurt him, better safe than sorry.

It occured to Aleiva that the stranger may not understand her, so she spoke once more in Delère. "Taste... bad. For you... good." She managed. Though, knowing how choppy her words were made her wince. Aleiva could only hope that the Delerian would understand what she meant. If nothing else, Linde could probably explain it better should he not understand.

Laris' face turned red with embarrassment as she thanked him. He himself did not know, and was only aware of a warm feeling in his cheeks. However, he ignored the heat, and tried to get out a reply to her. "Y-y-you're w-welcome, Aleiva. S-s-sorry I couldn't h-h-help m-more." He wondered to himself why he had said her name just then, as it wasn't exactly necessary. He felt as though he simply enjoyed saying her name. As she began to mutter to herself about the herbs, he continued with his thoughts, unintentionally mouthing them out. "Wonder why I did that...and sheesh, why did I come in for no reason.." However, his pondering was again interrupted by Aleiva. Not that it mattered much, he felt joy at hearing her speak, on the rare few times that she did to him. She had asked him for the basket, and his response would have been to give it to her without regret. However, as it seemed they were both about to speak, the door creaked open and someone came in.

Make that two someones. Which was panicky. Laris didn't like people, especially outsiders. Perhaps dislike was the wrong word; Laris didn't like interacting with others in general. Except Aleiva, for whatever reason. But these two strange men were not her, obviously. But, when she asked him to help carry the dehydrated-looking man over to the exam room, he could not refuse. As the man who wasn't dying shot him a grin, Laris tried to smile back, knowing it probably looked a bit strange. He wasn't used that particular facial expression. After the he moved the man, he stepped back to let Aleiva do her work. He gently tapped her on the shoulder, saying "I-I'll just b-b-b-be o-over there...c-c-call m-me if y-y-you need s-s-some h-help." Laris decided that she might need something, hence why he said his statement. He then proceeded to step back and tried to blend into the background until he was called. He noticed the man get up and say something in a language that he didn't understand. He also watched Linde re-enter the room, and say something, again, in the language he didn't understand. Though, from the sound of it, it was probably Delerian. He only managed to pick up a few words here and there.

Within the wee hours of morning light, as haunting dusk breeze gave way to golden forest skies, a little less than a dozen tired minds scrambled awake from the clutches of a midsummer nights' dream. Watching as a timid moon become its' brilliant, beseeching counterpart, it came as an inconvenient reminder to one particular, already alert mind that her world had not been lovingly enchanted by a dream; that the otherwise charming midsummer night had only graced her eyes with --or what had been-- a bleak, wholly uneventful stretch of darkness. It had been, after all, an evening where not a thieving soul had stirred save the natural, ethereal residents of the forest. And, although a guard should be glad for inactivity, suffice it to say that she could've very well been vigorously waving a sign saying 'Please eat me, mosquitoes!' and gotten no less but the same amount of action; just kind of sitting there like a ripe, plump tomato.

But a guard is a guard, and nobody asks to get robbed. So, with only a dispirited sigh to tell the tale, Ilene hopped from her perch as the last shift of night watch ended; eyes warmly welcoming the change from shades of black to gold. Because, although it wasn't entirely obvious (if at all), her sight was never the sharpest in the shadows. No matter how bad, though, her lack thereof was never enough to shirk sentry duty; and, being the ever competent high-class waitress, Ilene didn't really have the option to say no. Not that, of course, she ever would; when work and getting paid was just as --if not more-- important. In any case, amongst the hustle and bustle among the newly awakened travelling party, these depressing thoughts pushed to the corners and recesses of her mind; to be dwelled on the next, equally depressing night. What fun.

Or, well, perhaps not. For the past couple days, one of her charges had been caught in excessive bouts of coughing; and, from what Ilene had seen, was now snared in some sort of dim, increasingly severe fever. It was only a matter of time before the decision came to get a check-up at the border mountain village of Lian; the only available pit-stop within a couple dozen miles. We were going to replenish our supplies, anyway. And, after a few weeks of weary travelling, no sane person would reject the idea of a clean bath; or the prospect of, you know, not being attacked one night. An intermission between mosquito bites, like the calm before the swarm, yes? Ilene, of course, had absolutely no idea how right she was. Really, blood-sucking insects in an inn? But, in any case, within an hour and a half of back-breaking swerves to avoid overhanging branches on top of a slightly disfigured horse, the answer to the entire party's prayers shone between the edges of the Twisted Woods.

That is to say, Lian came into view in much the spectacular fashion; with, in their eyes, a heavenly glow of sunlight illuminating the scene. Which simultaneously triggered nine or so relaxed, pent-up sighs; although most entirely for completely different reasons. Personally, there had been an unrelenting itch on Ilene's back she hadn't been able to get, for fear of a vicious tree causing an equally vicious concussion. So, perhaps two hours after dawn and all with rather sore muscles from days and days of riding; these nine travelers checked into the local inn, three with quite lavish rooms while the rest took significantly less expensive posts all around. Happy horses went into happy stables, and weary guards were dismissed for most of the day. The tavern was the first hit for the vast majority of these people and, as Ilene had been the lone sheep heading back to her room, unknowingly passed the young adult to a wolf wrapped on a bright, silver platter.

The cause for the wreckage of her entire afternoon, evening, and perhaps days thereafter was initiated by two, very simple words. "Apothecary. Now." What am I, a dog? It wouldn't be such a source of agitation for the future Ilene if the previously frantic pair of rich parents had bothered to be even the least sincere for their child; which, in all fairness, they weren't. And who was it again that wanted to get halfway across the country in less than a month? The duo had complained all throughout the journey, and by their parenting it wasn't very difficult to imagine them causing the declining health of their child. All of the hired help had thought, at more than one point, that life was really just unfair; that it really was a shame that the miraculously sweet Gilbert Junior had been born to a bad set of parents. But, well, that's how it goes.

In any case, it was with an altogether mixed sense of disgust, accompanied by the beginnings of morning exhaustion, that made Ilene's daily, inwardly annoyed attitude; unknowingly brought to delightfully add to the congregated crowd's already-stiff mood in the Apothecary. And, although she was hit with a wave of 'life is just about to get a little more difficult! Don't go in!' just before opening the door, the kid was never one to back away from someone in need; no matter the client a bitch. So, throwing all caution into the wind, Ilene quietly slipped in to be part of the busy clinic; instantly regretting her decision when the parting noise of the Delerian language welcomed her. She inwardly winced, of course, but stayed put with a friendly face for the sake of a job to do.

Right. They're not all murderers. I'm not supposed to judge-- Damn it. From a quick, five-second survey of the scene, it seemed as if the Delerian in question had somehow been dehydrated and brought there; revived by copious amounts of water. The others, most likely of mixed heritage (as she wasn't able to discern it upon a glance), were crowded around; and she could only assume that the two women worked for the apothecary, while the man just a regular villager. The only impressions her mind enforced was the unjustified, immediate disliking of the Delerian; as she always had. But nothing changed among a still, calm face; and it took a few moments before she deemed it polite to approach for the sake of a child. Seeing that the taller woman was busy helping the downed man, Ilene chanced her bearings on the shorter; approaching by the front and staying a respective distance away. After all, being that she was armed, it was always better not to startle when pitching a request.

Without wasting time on introductions (and a little on edge as Gilbert Junior had been steadily getting worse), Ilene gave a detailed as much explanation of her own situation; her tone of voice a tad urgent, but calm enough. "A child just arrived at the inn with a bad case of fever, and he's getting worse. He's been coughing for days, but we don't know what caused it, or why. Please, can we have a moment of your time?" Practiced, a little pleading, she waited for a response; fully having thought that the taller woman, Linde, was also a healer. Her eyes casually danced from face to face, although determinedly ignoring the Delerian, but the fact that she only asked for one only meant that she hadn't ignored his sickness. Just, you know, bypassing the person in question. (Well, you can't expect better treatment from one grown in Caelum, can you?)

The Apothecary

The Delerian’s eyes cracked open when he felt a hand slide behind his head. It had been rough and calloused that he thought it had been a man’s at first until he heard the language of his people being woven on feminine lips. Grey hues travelled up Linde’s outstretched arm, but hadn’t exactly reached her face before they met two, massive roadblocks that made the warrior’s brows knit in astonishment. Her breasts were enormous. If she hadn’t been helping him sit up, he might have lost his strength in his awe. Once he was sitting up, he gazed at Linde’s face, observing some Delerian features as well as Caelum. There was no way she would have jugs that huge if she was pure Delerian. He would know. He had seen female Delerian warriors. They were as flat as a board, lacking the proper nourishment since the land around them was a desert. He didn’t know much about Caelum women, but it made his brain ache to think that women with knockers that size would come from the enemy nation. It couldn’t be true! He wouldn’t be able to stomach it if it was.

The Delerian was looking frustrated, confused, or even constipated. There was a dumbfounded frown on his face, and it wasn’t until Aleiva returned to hand him a glass of herbal water that he awoke from his condition. He blinked a few times, and then took the glass, listening to her broken Delerian. He looked her over, and she appeared more Caelum with hints of Delerian. These women were hot! But wait, what was going on here? Had the rack queen said that the village was on the borders of Caelum and Delère? Then who claimed it?

The Delerian raised his hand, resting his palm against his forehead. It was too much for his brain to take. Before responding to Linde, he took a drink from the glass the herbalist had offered to him, believing that it would cure his headache, but instead put a bad taste in his mouth. His nose wrinkled as he lowered the glass and forced the liquid down his throat.

I don’t understand… The warrior began. He scowled down at the glass in his hands as he thought over what he’s seen so far. If King Rodul ever discovered this village, he would have his soldiers slaughter everyone here. Delerians were forbidden to lay with the enemy. It disturbed him to think how lucky this village was to have survived this long. It could have been the cover of the mountains that had kept them hidden from those that would do them harm. Closing his eyes, the Delerian decided to rid those thoughts from his mind. I am Daerio Vardin. I hail from Gunnimead, a village in Delère. I was crossing the desert when I wound up here. That is all you need to know.

The accent of Caelum then filled his ears. It hadn’t been an accent similar to the hybrids that stood around him. There was no mistaking that accent. It was pure-breed Caelum. Daerio gazed past Linde at the blonde woman that was speaking with the platinum-haired beauty. His eyes lowered to her chest and his lips parted as a disgusted hiss streamed through his teeth. Gods…he had been missing out. On a positive note, his journey was given meaning. He had found prettier women, and there had bound to be more in the village.

Daerio finished his glass of herbal water and reached a hand behind his back, brushing over the empty leather holsters that had once carried his axes. His eyes widened in disbelief. No wonder the weight on his shoulders was lighter. They hadn’t been there!

What! Daerio exclaimed. He abruptly rose to his feet, dropping the glass that shattered upon the floor at his feet. His hands went behind his back and he began frantically patting around as though he were trying to scratch what he couldn’t reach. He then accusingly glanced to Linde, Laris, Ilene, and Aleiva before a memory cue flashed before his eyes. The nice axes he had seen on the merchant’s cart had been his.

Daerio’s hands lowered and he felt around his pockets. What else did that man steal? His money was gone. The Delerian’s face flushed red with anger before he roared, THIEVES! SCOUNDRELS! SWINDLERS!

His hands clenched into shaking fists. You let him escape with my money and gear!

---

The Smithy

The door to The Smithy opened as a blonde man backed into the shop, dragging a large pair of battleaxes. His face was tense with his struggles as he gazed over his shoulder at the young woman and blacksmith within. He flashed them a brilliant smile before he greeted merrily, “Hello, hello! What a wonderful…” He rasped. “Morning.”

Once he was close enough, he leaned the weapons against the wall and bent over, resting his hands upon his knees as he softly panted. As soon as he caught his breath, he straightened and faced the two beings with sweat lightly glistening on his face. The Smithy wasn’t at all refreshing in temperature.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Ivan, a traveling merchant and do I have a sale for you, Sir! Or perhaps ma’am,” he said, eying Nimuae like a gold-snatching crow. “What I have here are two axes composed of Delerian steel. Yes! Inspect them yourself, Sir. This is no sham. I found them off a dead man in the desert—lucky me! They are in exquisite shape, and there’s enough steel there to be melted down into swords or…”

His eyes narrowed impishly as he eyed the Nimuae’s bow. “Arrowheads.”

The merchant then glanced innocently to the ceiling.

"I don't understand..." He said quietly to himself.

A few moment's later, "I am Daerio Vardin. I hail from Gunnimead, a village in Delère. I was crossing the desert when I wound up here. That is all you need to know."

Linde was a bit unsure of this man. She had seen him eyeing her breasts before he spoke, which didn't bother her as she was used to men staring at her. The dress she had on didn't help as it did show a fair amount of cleavage so it was only natural that his eyes would wander.

At least he hadn't looked farther down. She thought to herself.

Linde's dress was short and fell to just above her knees. That being said, she was currently kneeling on her right leg and had his eyes wandered lower there was a chance for him to see her underwear. Luckily that didn't seem to be the case and Linde decided that it was best that way.

A few seconds later he rose to his feet quite abruptly, and Linde stood up with him, standing somewhat defensively in front of Aleiva as the man searched himself for something.

"THIEVES. SCOUNDRELS. SWINDLERS." He shouted as he turned to face them.

"You let him escape with my money and gear!" He yelled.

Linde came forward and placed her hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. One again, she spoke in a clam voice as she once again spoke his native Delerian language.

"Calm yourself. There is only one place that someone could go in this village to sell weapons or equipment of this nature. The blacksmith is not far from here, and if you will calm yourself and allow me to, I will lead you there. The one you speak of could not have gotten far and will not likely sell your belongings before we reach him."

With that she let go of his shoulder and walked to the door past the young blonde woman from before. She looked over her shoulder to Aleiva and gave her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry Aleiva, but I have to get this sorted out before it turns into a massive scene in the village. You take care of the boy that girl was talking about and I'll help this one find his belongings."

She looked back towards the Delerian and jerked her head towards the door, "Come!", she ordered in Delerian to him as she walked out the door.

Hospice (Apothecary's)

Aleiva felt a little guilty that poor Laris was just standing awkwardly in the corner, but she had to make sure her new patient would be okay before allowing herself to get distracted. He drank the herbal water a little more slowly, which was good, but she did notice his hand go to his head. Ah, she should have figured he would have a head ache, that he would be be sore in general really, and added something for the pain as well... The young Apothecary's mistake made her frown, but it wasn't too late to rectify it. She would just have to try and remember the right words...

As she tried to think of the right words, letting her gaze drift to the floor as she did so, Aleiva listened to Linde speak to the Delerian. While she didn't understand every word, the girl did get the gist of what he was saying. He was basically answering Linde's questions. Aleiva felt even more out of place than normal, seeing as she barely understood what was being said, and rubbed her arm awkwardly. "I sorry. If you.. head hurt I-" She started sheepishly, but never got to finish.

A new voice drew the young Apothecary's attention from the Linde and the Delerian to yet another stranger. This one a Caelum woman. "A-A sick child?" She asked. Her tone was urgent but not loud or panicked. Aleiva turned and went to her cupboards without waiting for conformation to grab a few things. With children, ever second counted. "I-Is it just a fever and cough...? Any other-other symptoms?" She asked softly. The more she knew about the child's illness, the more prepared she could be before hand.

Aleiva was stuffing her supplies into a large, brown, leather sack with a single strap when the shattering of the delarian's glass and his sudden yelling made her freeze. Something about thieves... taking his money and his gear? The young Apothecary turned her head to look at Daerio, but Linde was already on top of it. It was times like this that Aleiva was especially grateful to have her there. Linde was strong, bold, and brave... everything Aleiva wasn't. Her friend's words, however, quickly brought her out of her hero warship. Aleiva had a child to take care of. "R-right." Came aleiva's answer. It was quiet but firm.

Aleiva returned her attention to her supplies. "Uh.. Laris.. I may need an-an extra par of hands. I-if you don't mind.." She said softly before heading for the door. the girl wanted to reach the Inn as quickly as possible. Aleiva would normally have been more timid around a stranger like the Caelum woman, but she had to push herself outside of her comfort zone when a child's health was on the line. "Lets-Lets go quickly...uh.. Okay?" Was all Aleiva said to.. well, asked the woman before hurrying out the door. She assumed the Caelum would join her, and Laris would follow if he decided to help. Hopefully she wasn't asking too much of the timid man. The blond would surly know the room the boy was in and be able to take her to him, but first they had to get to the Inn! In her hurry to get to her new patient, Aleiva was all but running.

The Hospice

Laris observed the man from the corner as he seemed to rage abut something. Of course, he couldn't understand what was being said, but he was glad that for once that Linde was there, even if she had given him that look earlier. Which he still wasn't sure what it meant. 

However, what drew his attention was the woman who had entered. Her look was vaguely reminiscent of a Caelum, but her words were more important than her looks. Did she just mention a sick child? As Laris stepped forward to answer the call, Aleiva beat him to the punch. He wad content to let her ask the questions, after all, he wasn't the apothecary. 

As she finished packing her bags, h was surprised when she asked for his help. "M-me? A-a-alright, sure." He jogged after Aleiva, pausing only to throw a short word to the Caelum woman. "The inn, r-right? P-please hurry and help her find the room when we get there. The only thing that makes her go this quickly is a person who needs help." With that, he ran off after Aleiva, trailing behind her. Just to be thoughtful, he decided he would try to help out a bit more. "D-do you w-w-want me t-to t-take your bag, Aleiva?" There it was. He had said her name again for no reason. Strange. 

Well. That's mighty representative of Delerian nature. I'm judging again, aren't I? From the angry tones of a certain incomprehensible jumble of a tongue, Ilene could only gather that the previous patient before her was --for lack of a better phrase-- still under the mighty delusions formed by dehydration. Or, something she'd much rather believe, taken under a peculiar mental condition that all from his race seemed to have; one easily explained by the example 'Who're you lookin' at, Wall? You lookin' for a fight? Yeah? Don't you just stand there, bitch. Askin' for a go?', followed by a pissed off guy punching said wall. In other words, a disease called stupidity: when it magically seems perfectly logical to beat up anyone and anything, even biting the hand that feeds you. Yes, because violence is always the answer. But, in any case, as Ilene's beautiful impression of the young, enraged man suddenly planned suicide and jumped off a cliff, her nonchalant expression remained much the same; allowing only a raised, sarcastic eyebrow to express her thoughts. Because what kind of person is able to keep a good image of a (sadly to say) already prejudiced adult, when said person bursts out yelling in a language you simply don't understand? And those accusing looks? Not helping in the least.

But I digress. Brunette, on the other hand, seems pretty level. Which, coming from such a grounded person already, was as good a compliment as a stranger could get. Ilene, having caught the parting comment this girl made to.. Aleiva, was it?, couldn't help but give to a momentary drop of disappointment. Because, unfortunately, she couldn't paint a Delerian's impression worse. Put a damper on someone's day, why don't you? Anyhow, as one occupant quickly filed out the door, it soon became very apparent her next course of action. Which, thankfully, took her far, far away from a pissed off, prehistoric barbarian. Needless to say, she was wholly agreeable when Aleiva and Laris, stuttering all the while, gathered their wits and requested a quick leave; bringing back the previous sense of urgency that had only been pushed away by disgust. It was from such a rush that Ilene wholeheartedly ignored their words to hurry up, as she was effortlessly keeping pace anyway.

Then, just as she began to think of ways to help, the kid finally remembered that directed question: "I-Is it just a fever and cough...? Any other-other symptoms?", unanswered since she'd been busy trying to recall the past days. Then, when she did have an intelligent response, a rampant viking had went ahead and announced pretty loudly to the world that he had anger management issues. Well, it's better late then never, right? So, with the least further ado (but after Aleiva had responded to Laris, mind), Ilene set to rectifying her earlier lapse in memory. "Aleiva, was it? I couldn't say before, but I think Gilbert Junior --the child-- might have eaten something. We've been travelling hard for about two weeks now, it'd be even more surprising if he hadn't." Or, if what I think is right, then it's his parents' fault and not his own. They've never treated him well. But what can I do? "But since this morning he hasn't been able to keep anything down, not even water."

The look on Ilene's face remained a tad troubled, while her tone mildly urgent; akin to the times when she had to give a report. Her pace was kept in a brisk, fast walk; fluid though any warrior's would be. No lines of extreme worry were etched into her face, although the fact that she was was quite evident; and just a great a feat for a usual untouchable, secluded person as she. Rare, no doubt. But he's a good kid. Nevertheless, this temporary reprieve of depressed sadness only lasted until the inn came to view just a couple moments later; along with her fellow Caelum bodyguard standing impatiently just by the entrance. Seeing him, Ilene gave a quick, almost distracted "Excuse me, looks like there's news." to her companions before dashing across the clearing to meet him; upon reaching speaking in a series of rapid Caelum. Such brisk words would've otherwise been too swift for the unaccustomed ear to decipher completely, although strays could be picked out.

In the end, the gist of their conversation came as something like "What took you so long? Junior won't stop shaking, and he started coughing blood; which only made the fever worse. It only began when Lana (the mother) tried feeding him again. The severity of Junior's sickness is only hitting them just now. Damn it, the hell did they do to make him like this?!" Sparing no moments, Ilene relayed this information (with much teeth clenching) back to Aleiva, this time including various references to Junior's irresponsible parents; coming surprisingly bitter in those parts. It didn't take long to guide the duo to the child's room in the inn as she did so, which was quite the contradictory place; with lavish furnishings but with the smell of the sick and vomit infesting the air. A crying set of parents, along with several concerned guards, stood around or some distance away from an occupied bed; none of them minding the possibility of catching the same disease.

Ilene's explanations conveniently ended the moment the door opened, from then calmly and efficiently alerting her fellow travelers of the presence of Lian's very own doctor. Speaking in Caelum, the hired help nodded and evacuated for work's privacy; leaving behind two distraught guardians. Not knowing whether or not to escort them out, lest Aleiva want to question whatever it was that they might have fed Junior, Ilene left them promptly --and comfortably-- seated a little ways away. It was only then that she allowed herself to look down and finally let Junior's condition sink in; gaze immediately hardening at the deprived situation. He was sweating and violently shivering, surrounded by small splotches of blood soaked into the blanket on top of him; barely conscious, if at all. Had it not been for Ilene's vigorous lifestyle, she might have gathered into a rage or broken down; but as it was, only a cold, blank sheet could be seen.

Thinking to help, she laid out her swords on a free table behind her and, rolling up sleeves, turned to the only person who could possibly cure Junior now. "What do you think? How can I help?"

"Pardon me for being in the way, my fair-"

Daerio had suddenly stepped in between Linde and this new young man who had been asking for her attention, which she did not find very polite. Given the circumstances, she could understand that he wanted his belongings, but he didn't have to be rude about it. She gave the Delerian a quick elbow to his right bicep, not enough to injure, but to grab his attention. She had no intention of starting a fight wearing nothing but her small gown and undergarments... That would be too much stimulation for most men at this early hour.

"That's enough!" She barked at Daerio in his native tongue.

"If you want your supplies back then follow me and just stay away from my fellow villagers. If you've nothing kind to say to them then you can find another guide." She warned before turning her head to the new arrival.

"Please pardon this man, he's Delerian and had his goods stolen but a short time ago and we must retrieve them with all haste lest he become violent. I'll be back soon enough to deal with your needs so please have patience and wait inside... But don't touch anything." She said with a hint of warning towards the end.



With that Linde continued on past him and led Daerio through the streets of the village until the Smithery came within sight.



As she approached the Smithy Linde saw the merchant in question, as well as two other familiar faces...

"Hello Shyan." Linde said, forcing a smile.

"I believe my new acquaintance has a few things to say about this merchant and the items he's trying to sell." She announced.

Her eyes then slowly glided over to Nimuae, who was in the process of looking over new arrows which, no doubt, Shyan had made for her. Linde's gaze toward the girl was very calm, but cold. Nimuae and Linde had quite the history together, but over the last couple of years it had grown quite sour. Had the two not held a certain level of respect for each other's skills, Linde's presence here while Nimuae was testing new weapons would surely have been an invitation to a fight.

---

Neal's stuttered slightly at the Delerian's outburst but he finished his sentence before he turned to respond with a smile on his face. A smile which faltered a little at the obvious sign of disgust on the man's face. Neal had taught himself Delerian in order to better interact with the nation in his travels so he understood the man's message, if not in its entirety. He did wonder why the man wanted to go use the bathroom...or why he would bother telling the others that.

"Ah another Delerian. Such is my luck for today it seems. It appears the nation's legendary temper that I have read about has quite a solid base in reality. But if you would have so kindly listened to my sentence instead of brutally interrupting me half way through you would have realized I was apologizing for, in fact, being in the way." he responded in Delerian. Neal kept his outer calm visible as his training fought with his inner annoyance with the unprovoked outburst. Especially since this was now the second time in the same day he had been verbally assaulted by a Delerian without due reason.

Even so the monk did detect that the two of them had a purpose of some sort and when the woman spoke again he turned his attention to her as she explained the story. His attention was quickly distracted however as he realized she was wearing rather..reveling clothes to say the least. His monkish demeanor once again almost faltered but he maintained it through sheer force of will and the desire to not embarrass himself by staring. This was probably the first time he had seen her outside of either armor.

He did manage to bow as she took her leave and lead the Delerian off presumably to recover his belongings and he contemplated staying at the apothecary alone for only a few moments before he shelved his plan of selling herbs for the time being and decided to follow the two of them at a discreet distance, simply to watch of course. It wasn't his usual modus operandus to interfere with a Delerian's problems but if it provided entertainment for the short wait he had before he could return to his camp he wouldn't mind.

---

---

Neal arrived at the Smithy just as the woman was giving the floor to the Delerian, apparently accusing the merchant of taking the man's belongings. Considering the temper Neal had experienced himself earlier today at the hands of Delerians he doubted this encounter would go well and leaned against a nearby building, watching as things unfolded, ready to intervene if things got violent. He didn't approve of stealing, but nor did he believe that it in any way justified the murder he was expecting to be attempted soon.

In her excitement, Nimuae had completely forgotten that she should've waited and tried out the goods before actually buying them. It was only pure good luck that Shyan was her blacksmith, otherwise she would've been running for her money, for others selling items were not as generous as he. The blacksmith had been hers for so long that she had never really established any rules for shopping; besides, everything he made always surpassed her expectations and standards. There was never any reason for her to check or try things out when it came to Shyan, but she supposed it was a bad habit to develop. If she ever left (which she never would), Nimuae would have much problems buying goods for crafty merchants.

"You're probably right," she said, and slid the bow off her shoulder, accepting the bundle quickly afterwards. Shyan had nudged her toward a makeshift range, one with few marks that suggested he had done something there a couple of times. She wondered if he as as good with wielding weapons as he was with welding -- man, he really had it all! If she ever wanted to get as good making arrows as him, she'd need a lot more practice, years more. The stoneheads she hadn't used often, only a couple of times as they were the only things lying around for her to carve and practice with. Needless to say, his looked a lot better and probably flew a lot better than her own. Iron was something she was used to, and something that hated her wholeheartedly. The ones in his hands glared bitterly at her, having heard the rumors of how she drowned its relatives often.

Now, steel... Such beautiful creations, such lovely beings -- they gazed at her curiously and excitedly, and she couldn't help but return the same eager face. Nimuae had never used steel before, but just looking at the arrows made from the hands of one who was talented and passionate in his work invoked a once sleeping fervor. There was a stump several feet away from her, and rather than place the bundle on the ground, she gently laid it on the tree stump; after making sure no harm would come to them, she plucked an arrow from the herd, one with a steel head. His hard work shown brightly in the light, glinting off the metal as the archer set the arrow against the bow; she relished at how it seemed to fit against her hand perfectly and marked her target with a growing determination. Having heard nothing he said, Nimuae stood still and sucked in a breath, calming the enthusiastic nerves that were bouncing off every inch of her.

Watch me, Master. I will not fall behind you, suffocating in your overwhelming shadow. With this steel arrowhead, I shall show you what I have done, what I can do, and what I will do. Are you proud, Master? Looking down at me from Paradise, are you proud?

Just as she was about to let the arrow take its first steps in flight, a bird flew overhead, one that wasn't fat, but lean. With the instincts embedded in her from years of training under a great man, she readjusted the trajectory and fired at the winged animal, striking it in its belly. The animal dropped to the ground yards away, twitching and writhing in pain.

"Hey, Shy, looks like I found the Yeskens's dinner." They would be pleased to see that she had found them a bird to eat; normally, the Yeskens only had fish, and so this would be a nice change for them. As she turned around, she saw that Shyan was not paying attention to her, but to a merchant that seemed to have stumbled upon them without her notice. Glancing back at the arrows to make sure they had not gone anywhere, Nimuae held onto her bow and stepped away from the range and headed for Shyan. He held an axe in his hand, examining it quietly before letting it swiftly fall to his side in expert hands.

"They're nice," Nimuae commented. She didn't have an eye for weapons like he did, but she didn't need to be an expert to know a finely crafted axe when it bit her in the arse. On the other hand, the merchant was anything but finely crafted. The way he grinned greedily sent a shiver up her spine. Nimuae had to glance back at the arrows to make sure the stranger hadn't somehow snatched it from underneath their noses when she wasn't paying attention.

The chilling sensation wasn't helped when a certain someone had stepped onto the blacksmith's land: Linde Xe' Almna, her rival, the enemy, and overall, the person with whom the twenty-two year old found to be quite the irritating nuisance.

"Oh, great, here comes the big boobed queen of indecency..." she muttered, almost rolling her eyes, wearing something revealing to show off her goods to the world. The woman had a watermelons for boobs and they never seemed to be still, always showing up the archer's own. It wasn't as if Nimuae had a flat chest, but honestly, how was it that Linde's seemed to just mutate and expand to such a ridiculous size? As if that wasn't bad enough, her skills in close-combat battle weren't something to stare at with one's nose in the air, and that only seemed to flare up their rivalry even more.

Nimuae didn't bother to greet her, only allowing her eyes to fall onto the man beside the swordswoman -- another stranger looking to be from Delerian descent.

"Since when has Lian been so popular?" she mused quietly to herself. With Linde now present, she found herself tense, awaiting a fight that she knew would not happen. It wasn't that they hated each other, after all; it was just...a strenuous relationship. Besides, she could count on Shyan to break them up before any real damage could be dealt; she knew Linde could best her in hand-to-hand, but that didn't mean Nimuae was going down without a fight.

Daerio felt Linde’s elbow and he scowled at her when she scolded him for shouting at the Caelum. In his culture, it was perfectly fine to do so; in fact, it always made a humorous story. Even killing one got a Delerian praise. As she relayed to him the consequences for not listening to her, the corner of Daerio’s lip arched in defiance as he then wrinkled his nose and uttered a dismissive, “Psh!”

After Linde had apologized to the man he had interrupted, Daerio waited for the Lianese woman to jog away before he turned to Neal and dragged his index finger across his throat (Daerio’s), signing to him the infamous cut-throat gesture. The kid talked too much, and overall, he just didn’t like him. Daerio turned to catch up to Linde and the skirts of her gown that dangerously fluttered in the breeze of her jog. The warrior tilted his head and leaned to the right as though trying to gaze beneath the flapping excess material until he recognized the wagon outside the Smithy. The sight of it had Daerio straighten and a stern frown returned to his face.

He slowed to a walk as Linde crossed the rest of the distance to the three beings outside the building. Daerio had approached the merchant’s cart and browsed its crates, barrels, and sacks. His gaze then traveled over to Shyan who was holding an all too familiar ax. The warrior turned from the cart to face the blacksmith, noting only one was in his hand and the other was propped against the wall.

Ivan hadn’t seen the two visitors that had approached. His blue eyes were locked upon Shyan, anxiously waiting for him to name his price so the bartering could begin. It was when his attention seemed to focus on someone else that the merchant turned his head to gaze over his shoulder to first notice Linde and her outfit. His attention might have lingered if the Delerian next to her didn’t excite in him a sudden urge to piss his pants. The merchant’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he and Daerio’s eyes had met. Ivan’s head snapped forward as his hands came together to fondle each other again. It was his pitiful attempt to hide the fact that they were shaking.

“Heh, heh, well, uh, it’s busy for you today. How about I come back another time?” the merchant attempted to reason. He then listened to the exchange between Shyan and Linde, the pits of his tunic becoming damp with sweat.

I suppose three days dead, being picked clean by buzzards is an exaggeration…I have a particular dislike of liars and thieves Ivan. I don’t suppose you have any truths to offer in your defense, criminal?

The cat was out of the bag. Ivan was trembling all over, fearing the idea of having to confess the obvious before the man he had stolen from. He gazed at Daerio who had been quiet and apparently calm throughout the entire exchange (when in actuality he was plotting). Ivan backed against the Smithy wall; feeling the stone against his back gave him assurance that no one would try to sneak up on him. The walls were closing in and it felt like the world was turning on him. Sinking to a crouch, the merchant wrapped his arms protectively about his head as he began weeping pitifully in his guilt.

“Yes; I stole them; I’m sorry! I was desperate, and I thought I wasn’t going to see him again. I’m not an evil man for if I was, I would have taken his belongings and left him to fry in the desert. Did I not save a man’s life?”

Daerio was now gazing at the merchant as he sat there crying: weakness! He didn’t understand what the merchant said for he was speaking Lianese, a muddled up hybridized form of Caelum and Delerian. There were only bits and pieces that he understood but nothing to present a coherent sentence.

The blacksmith approached him, and when he began speaking Delerian without accent, it told Daerio that he wasn’t one of the hybrids walking around. Daerio smirked, taking the smith’s right hand with his left. He gave him a firm handshake and noted the inflection in his voice on the title Dragon Slayer. It had said enough. This man, though Delerian, was not his friend. He also didn’t seem eager to return his belongings.

Sou-Daerio Vardin, he confirmed. He added his rank at the beginning of his name, feeling no need to explain to a Delerian what it means for he was sure Shyan knew.

Abruptly, the grip Daerio had on Shyan’s hand dramatically increased. If the blacksmith had been a weak, nonathletic being unaccustomed to work and training, his grip then might have felt like a vice strong enough to mangle his hand. He jerked him forward, his left knee rising with the intention of burying the iron knee guard on his cap right into the man’s gut.

Neal listened with interest as the scene unfolded, the merchant's trembling, the Smith's gruff manner, and he grinned. This was going to turn out to be an interesting meeting after all. He let his eyes wander a bit as his attention was pulled away by the sight of a dead bird laying a few yards away with an arrow through its chest. He walked over and kneeled down to poke at it with a finger and realized it was only recently dead and still had plenty of heat left to it.

He started looking around for a cause for the bird to be there and noticed that the girl with the smith, who he had until just then not noticed, was still holding a bow in her hands with a quiver of arrows nearby. Assuming she must have been the archer he chuckled to himself a little as he solved his most recent question of the day and he stood back up, already having lost interest and almost forgetting why he was there in the first place.

Oh right wasn't he going to sell herbs to the Apothecary? He took a moment to get his bearings before he struck out back towards where he believed the Apothecary to be until his ears caught the Delerian word for Dragon Slayer coming out of the smith's mouth. Neal's haphazard focus suddenly zeroed in on the two men talking, watching as the Delerian from earlier gripped the hand of the smith in a firm handshake, or what Neal thought was a hand shake, and he let his head turn sideways with a quizzical look on his face as he considered this poor, uninformed man who was so misguided as to attempt to slay dragonkind, those that were gifts of the gods themselves.

It did explain his obvious hatred for a Caelmite such as himself, which was extreme even compared to the other Delerians Neal had met over the course of his stay in Lian. He considered approaching the man and attempting to explain to him the truth behind the dragons but something told him that would simply end in disaster at this current moment, considering just how riled up he already was. Neal sighed and returned to the building he had been leaning against earlier and sat down, crossing his legs, as he closed his eyes in meditation to consider what he should do, completely missing the man's knee rising towards the smith in an obvious act of aggression as Neal calmed his inner self to clear his mind.

Lian Village
Outside the blacksmith's house and smithy

Shyan ignored the unfortunate merchant's babbling. No amount of begging and excuses could solve the problem. Ivan had stolen, then attempted to pawn off the stolen belongings. He should have considered the consequences before he became a thief. The matter of saving the Delerian's life was separate, it was't an act of atonement or in any way redeeming. Although the blacksmith figured that the man's words were true. Daerio did not look in peak condition and there was few other satisfactory explanations as to how the weasel acquired the warrior's belongings. If that was so and Shay would have to assume it was, then he certainly couldn't let the Delerian do off with Ivan. Still, even without access to one of his axes the man still looked like he could kill. There was sureness is his posture and his grip was strong for a man who looked so ragged. Also one could never doubt a man from that nation. They seemed to be consistently violent and aggressive. Shyan was an exception, of which there were many in Lian. So it was that his caution protected him.

The sudden shift in grip was enough of a give away. Shyan was already attempting to pull out of the grip when the jerk came. The two forces were enough to break Daerio's grasp. The man would have been stronger then the blacksmith if not for whatever ordeal he had faced. Shyan stumbled back a few steps, quickly recovering his balance and settling into a wider stance. He still held the dragonslayer's ax and switched it back to his primary hand, waiting and threatening. He was armed, Daerio wasn't and that put the smaller man at an advantage. He was ever aware of the other ax leaning temptingly against the wall. He made no move forward, watching defensively. Brown eyes glared daggers at his new enemy as he snarled, still speaking the other's tongue.
"Suppose I should have expected as much from a Delerian." His tone was scornful, no trace of forgiveness or leniency. If Daerio tried much more Shyan would have little qualms about causing a lasting injury. "I was about to help you Dragonslayer. When you turn around and return to where you've come from I may yet considering returning what was stolen from you."
Shyan looked to Linde to see the woman's response, expecting that she would bear no love for the stranger either. He was a threat to the village itself and even if she didn't concern herself with the blacksmith's safety she would at least side with him in the conflict. He expected her to anyway but didn't take it for granted.

Linde watched with some anxiety as the events unfolded when they reached the Smithery, though her stoic expression would not have told anyone as much. When the merchant known as Ivan began to weep and hold his head in shame, she actually felt a twinge of sorry in her heart for the man. Whether this act was sincere or not didn't really matter to at this point, and she inwardly reprimanded herself for being so hasty to help Daerio recover his belongings.

Whoever he was, Linde knew now that he was trouble and that she had brought an unnecessary threat to the Smithery where her father used to work. She was about to step in and try to mediate what was going on when Daerio suddenly tried to knee Shyan in the stomach. Shyan was lucky enough to have been pulling away at the same moment and managed to dodge the blow and bring up the axe, which she assumed belonged to Daerio, in a defensive posture against him.

That better be the first and last attack that will be used here today! She thought to herself.

Linde ran forward and slid to a halt in between the two men and placed a hand in both of their directions, standing up straight and giving Daerio a rather stern glare.

"That's enough!" She shouted, more at Daerio than Shyan as she looked at the "Dragon Slayer", speaking sharply to him in his native tongue.

"You are here, your belongings are here, and Ivan is obviously too frightened to fight you for them or give you any trouble. You will have your belongings back in a moment, but if you make one more move to attack either Shyan, Ivan or Nimuae, I will take you down myself. Do you understand?!" She shouted towards him as her upper body jerked in his direction.

She took a breath and looked over at Shyan. She managed to relax herself after a moment and tried to soften her expression in silent apology to Shyan for bringing such trouble his way. When she spoke, her voice was soft and calm, no longer speaking in the Delerian language.

"Shyan, I will personally take responsibility for the trouble that this man has caused here today. However, I must insist that you allow me to return his belongings to him. You know how our laws operate as well as I do. Since Ivan stole these weapons and supplies, they are not yours to buy from him. If you would please hand them to me now, I'll be the one to return them to him since I brought him here."

She took a couple of steps towards Shyan with her arms stretched out to receive the weapons and equipment that she now expected him to give to her.

Outside the Smithy

Ivan’s damp, sparkling eyes widened when he saw the other Delerian’s knee nearly connect with Shyan. The blacksmith had been lucky to miss it, and the violence the Delerian displayed made the merchant scramble away from him even more. He crawled to the end of the Smithy and stood with his back to the edge, ready to disappear around the corner any chance he got. There was nothing more dangerous than getting caught in a fight between two Delerians—men or women; although, Delerian women were just as wild.

Daerio dropped his foot back to the ground and scowled deeply at how Shyan was wielding his own ax against him. It was when Shyan’s eyes flicked to his other ax leaned against the wall that Daerio wasn’t going to take any more chances. Already one thief had his ax, and he wasn’t about to let him take the other. Keeping an eye on Shyan, Daerio lunged for his ax against the wall. The soles of his boots slid across the dusty earth as he slid to a stop next to it that had only been two meters out of reach. He grasped the ax and as he hefted it, he flipped it within his hand. The heavy head tipped backwards, carrying the handle over the back of his hand before Daerio’s hand twisted around to grasp it again. He performed it twice to warm up the muscles in his arm, the speed in which the ax flipped with only a two second hesitation between each turn showed that the Delerian was dexterous with it.

You’re nothing but a cur with his tail between his ass! You should have offered me my weapon instead of your hand. I would have let you keep it then! Daerio shouted. He then noticed that Linde had thrown herself in the way of what would have been the path he would have taken to charge Shyan.

Take him down? The corner of Daerio’s mouth quirked in a condescending smirk. When Linde abruptly turned in his direction, her chest had followed quivering and bouncing from the action. The Dragon Slayer’s smirk dissolved into a straight-lipped expression forced by will alone for a lewd smile had wanted to blossom. He might have said something but at that moment, he couldn’t remember what he had wanted to say. It might have been a taunt. Lifting his ax, he lowered it behind his back into the leather sling. His other hand went behind his back to feel if it was securely in place and not inverted before he turned his cheek to the situation much like a child who didn’t get his way.

Linde had begun speaking to Shyan in the strange gibberish Lian had created for its residents. He had thought over what the blacksmith had said about wanting him to return from which he came. He had no desire to return to Delère yet, and honestly, Shyan was one to talk. It was too late to say so, but he would have told him the same thing. What a chump.

The talk Linde had with Shyan felt longer than it really was. Daerio’s eyes became half-lidded and he could feel the ache in his stomach. He hadn’t felt hunger at its worst until that moment. His insides felt stretched taut and those small actions he had performed made him feel like sitting. His whole being was feeling weak, and if he didn’t get something to eat, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. The whole town felt like it was against him. They wanted to steal his axes and his gold.

Daerio’s grey eyes flicked over to Linde as he informed, I want my axes and my gold so that I-

Ivan was no longer within his peripherals and he was no longer where he once was. Daerio’s pupils shrank as the look on his face became predatory. His eyes swept the people that walked about and the carts that rode by to see a blond head dart between them. No more. No more cooperation; no more trying to let the big-boobed belle handle everything for it wasn’t going the way she wanted. She had no control. The blacksmith was trying to steal his ax, and now the thief was running away. This was a Delerian’s problem, and he was going to settle it the way Delerians would.

A hiss escaped from Daerio before he broke into a sprint after the fleeing Ivan. The last thing he would do was take that coward down. Someone had to.

I WILL BREAK YOUR LEGS!

Streets of Lian

Ivan glanced over his shoulder in terror to see that out of all the people that had noticed his absence, it had to be the blood-thirsty Delerian. With a cry of fright, Ivan grasped a fruit stand and pushed it down in the street to obstruct the Delerian’s pursuit.

Out of my way! Daerio snarled at the denizens blocking his view.

He leapt over the fallen fruit stand and nearly lost his balance when he landed. There were apples, oranges, and melons all over and some had gotten under his feet. Spreading his arms, he managed to catch himself and he glanced at the merchant’s fleeing form. Drawing his ax, Daerio charged after him to close the distance a little until he had a clear shot. The Delerian stopped and swung back his ax. He was prepped to send it flying into the merchant’s back.