ShadeYuka: hi

jasmine awaited quietly for people to come. She sprawled herself out on the meadow grass, so rich and green. She heard the shuffling of feet. "Yes?" She said, waiting to discover who the person was.

hey

yello!

yea you! in the list... tallk to me..

It was nearly two years since the attack on her families castle, that fateful night when she was awoken by the family wizard Valatar and taken from everything she knew while her father and mother were murdered. When she'd tried to go back against Valatar's request he was forced to render her unconscious until they'd reached a safe place where the Princess would not be found. It had taken her some time to get used to the life she was given, thankful to at least be alive so that she'd be able to one day take back her Kingdom from the Yugile and rule with a kind hand as her parents had.
The day had already begun and Valatar had sent her to the river to gather water, under his guidance she'd learned to wash her own clothes, cook her own food and hunt. Teaching her to be independent was his goal and he'd succeeded, she was not the girl she was two years ago, she was now a woman. Aveline wondered if he knew that with age and growth came the curiosity of when she'd be able to return and fight the Yugile. She questioned him a few times, but he'd always change the subject and would pull her into a lesson about some herb or spell he'd wanted to teach her.
Although she'd insisted that she had no magical attributes in her blood he insisted to teach her. As she scooped down the fill the bucket with water she noticed a frog jumping away onto a lily pad and then disappear below the surface of the murky lake water. Once she had the water barefoot Aveline followed the trail back to the village, and upon entering Valatar's small home she set it down and called out to him. "Valatar I'm back with the water. Hurry up or I'll toss it out," the joking tone carried through the house as she moved to sit on the stool and wait for him to appear.
Valatar had a knack for doing little parlor tricks when he appeared and as corny as it sounded she enjoyed them. But today her mind was more gathered on returning home, the Yugile had visited the village countless times, but thanks to Valatar's masking spell they had yet to find her. Slowly she removed the hood from the cloak she wore to reveal that instead of the beautiful almond brown hair her mother shared it was now a soft honey blond, a small cover up that made a high difference. No one had yet suspected who she was, but if they ever saw her birthmark that rested at the nape of her neck she'd be in a heap of trouble.
For now she turned her attention back to current events, today Valatar was going to let her know if he had any new news from Naillik and if she was any closer to returning.

"Really your majesty you should not jest in such a way", said Listel as she emerged from her room. She smiled and shook her head at Aveline, for as long as she lives she could never see the princess not picking at Valatar in some way. "Well it looks as though Valatar has buggered off again, should we start breakfast then my Lady", she smiled at the princess. She had always had a great respect for Valatar he was loyal to the end and would never get to far away but being a wizard he often would go off by himself. "I'll take that if you wish my Lady", she reached out and took the bucket from the young woman. She had been with Aveline her whole life, she had become her servant when the princess had been but a babe, and now she was beautiful grown woman. It just broke Listel's heart that she had to have so much heart ache and hardship in her life.

Now Listel was in no way superstitious but she was spiritual. She believed it could be administrated by the gods that certain beings had certain destiny's just as she beleive it was her destiny to protect the princess or die trying. She and Valatar had worked frantically that horrible night two years ago to get the princess out and to safety. Listel had so desperately wanted to go back and try to save the King and Queen just as much as their daughter had that very night. But she had been ordered when she took the calling of guardian over the princess, that if such a situation were ever to occur she would get the princess out and not turn back. The princess had pleaded and screamed but they could not go back, the would have been no hope for the kingdom if the entire royal family was wiped from existence. So with some clever spells on Valatar's part they were able to escape, the tragedy of that night.

Listel took the bucket of water to the hearth and started to look over the food, to see what she could come up with the ingredients they had. It was once again a day to go to market, it was day like this that Listel was grateful for Valatar's abilities as a wizard. "Well it looks like we still have a bit of pottage we could still cook, and we still have I loaf of bread and whats left of the cheese but we'll have to go to market today to pick up more supplies", said Listel as she poured some water in a pot. "My Lady do you mind slicing the bread and cheese while I make the pottage, and some tea would be nice I think", she took out the small kettle and handed the bread and cheese to Aveline. "I'm sure Valatar will be grateful for a hot meal when he returns", she said with a smile.

"Valatar, I'm back with the water. Hurry up or I'll toss it."

He grumbled under his breath and closed the book he was reading from. Slowly standing up and walking towards the room she was in, rather than using the door, he waved his hand briefly over himself and stepped through the wall, appearing behind her as she sat down. "Well," He muttered walking past her, "Tossing out water wouldn't be the wisest thing to do, madame, after all we need it to survive."

He had caught the joking tone in her voice, but ever since the forceful take over of the Kingdom, he never cared to much for the jokes, and sometimes he had wondered if she was ever serious, but he disregarded that. "I've noticed that a few of the Yugile's lapdogs have came through again today," He said, moving around the table, she could see he wasn't exactly himself but an elderly man. "Of course, they had half the mind to step here." Slowly his normal features started to reappear and, soon enough, he was back to himself. Shaking his head and letting out a sigh, "I feel that things may begin to heat up if we continue staying here. While I suspect no one has exactly realized who you are, staying here any longer will likely pose a greater threat."

While his face didn't look it, as he showed no signs of emotion, that she could see, he was worried. Not just for his role in protecting the Princess, but for her as well.

"However, not all of the news is bad, I've heard rumors that a group in the east had taken arms against the Yugile. Though, I'm sure you would have rather heard hard facts than me blabbering on about false rumors, or rumors in general. Unless you have a different thought, madame, I wouldn't suggest we go chasing fairy tales, let alone rumors. As for the southern portion of the Kingdom," He lowered his head, "I've heard nothing."

Without much of any other thought, he glanced over and realized that the servant, Listel, was in the same room as them. "Forgive me for not taking immediate notice that you were here, Listel, I thought you were still at the market."

Secru Suamo was very conscious that he was not presenting the figure he would have liked. Ideally, he would have been clad in bright flowing silks, riding through town on a prancing white palfrey, the proficiency oh his harp-playing and the sweetness of his voice bringing every maiden (and some that weren't) from leagues around, trailing after him, flinging themselves at his feet, batting their eyes at him. "What a genius," they'd say. "This man has broken new ground in the minstrel's art!" They'd invite him to play at the local inn, and as soon as he struck the first note, the applause would have threatened to cave in the roof, and...

Instead, he presented a bedraggled figure indeed. He was clad in dirty brown, gray and green clothing, of hard-wearing yet unappealing material, and both his lyre and his harp were securely packed away, their strings carefully oiled against stretching. he wondered why he'd bothered to bring the second horse, really - he had very little luggage otherwise, all they did was carry the instruments. All he had to hand were his crossbow and his sword, neither of which were exactly maiden-pulling material. And his horses were plodding Percherons, tough as guts but not exactly the mettlesome steeds that his legend demanded.

Mind you, he'd been glad he'd kept his sword to hand. A few leagues back, when riding through the dark wood, he'd been attacked by a group of bandits. They'd been seven of them, all armed with notched cutlasses and bent spears, and while he fancied he could have taken them all with his bare hands, having the sword had saved him having to break out in a sweat. At the first demand he hand over his possessions, he'd hacked off the arm of their leader with a single stroke, than ridden among the bulk of them, swinging his slim sword so fast it was almost singing in his hand. By the time he'd beheaded two of the bandits, and knocked another unconscious with the pommel of the sword, the rest had been down in the dust begging for mercy. He'd granted it, and ridden off without a word, hoping that the war-cry he'd shrieked as he'd charged hadn't strained his voice. The worst of it was, he'd had a sonnet formed perfectly in his mind, all ready to set to music, and the attack had driven it clean out of his mind.

"Oh well, here we are," he thought, as he saw a small hovel a few minutes ride away. "They said they'd be a little hut, right here, on the edge of the wood, by the stream, and here it is. The message said to seek out one Valatar, whoever he might be. Well, if he's a wizard as they say, at least he'll appreciate a man of talent and charm. I doubt the princess will, though - she sounds a spoiled, ungrateful little brat from what I've heard of her. Still, it'll look good when I write the epic poem of my own life - that I once, in my youth, risked my life to protect a princess. You have to have a few names to drop, in a poem like that."

He reined in, and jumped from the horse, leading the two beasts on foot. He could hear the banter of a deep male voice, and two females, from inside. One of the females sounded like an elf - well, that sounded promising. If anyone should appreciate good music, it would be one of the Elder. The other... well, she was an authentic princess, if the message had been any guide. You could forgive royalty a lot, he supposed. Even if, as he suspected, she was some fat, ugly, cross-eyed little thing with pimples and warts - "Which is quite likely." he mused, knowing how royal families so often went in for inbreeding.

He drew himself up to his full height, trying to look as pale and artistic as he could, and knocked confidently at the door.

Listel smiled and shook her head, "I have yet to go Valatar and it does not surprise me that you did not notice me", when he was concentrating on the task at hand a sort of tunnel vision. She set the hot tea kettle on the table and started spooning pottage into some bowls. She smiled at him it wasn't that this was a bad thing he was just very focused on certain things and it was that focus that had kept the three of them alive these two years. She placed the bread and cheese down on the table as well,"I suppose what your saying Valatar is that we will be moving once again", she sighed as she sat down in front of her bowl and began to pour everyone's tea.

This was no surprise either to Listel, it had become a common thing they could only stay in one place for a few months at a time. Before the Yugile came and started searching, she had always wondered how they always seemed to find were they had been hiding. But is was a blessing from the Gods that Valatar was usually able to find out and they were able to flee before, they were found. But thus was a life on the run, and they had to do everything they could to protect the princess. "I suppose I should pick up some travel rations, from the market then", she said and then started eating her pottage.

Listel looked over at the princess, all of this was the hardest on Aveline. They had lived in so many different places in the past two years, it was not good for a young woman to live as such. This sort of thing didn't bother Listel per say growing up in a tribe of elves you got used to traveling. But a human girl who was just becoming a woman it was much harder, especially one who had her whole life ripped from her by the ones they were fleeing from. Listel just hoped that there would be and end to it sometime, and that the princess would have a chance to reclaim her birthright.

Listel jumped with a start when she heard the knock at the door, "Were we expecting someone Valatar?", she asked with concern. She reached down in her boot and pulled one of her throwing dagger from it. She rose from the chair, "Valatar stay here while I go answer the door", she said as she got up to the door she attuned her senses to the man outside. She quietly opened the door and looked the young man up and down, "Can I help you?", she asked.

Aveline glanced over at Listel as they emerged from her bedroom and grinned. "But I find it entertaining to see the veins in his neck pop out in frustration from my antics. And Valatar loves me so he knows I only jest." It was about that time that Valatar appeared behind her and spoke, then he moved past her declaring it wasn't such a good idea to toss it out. Shrugging she handed the pail of water to Listel as she stated that they'd need to get breakfast going.
"It got you go come out of hiding did it not." Rising from the stool she moved into the kitchen and began assisting Listel in preparing breakfast, she sliced the bread into four which was all that was left of the bread while Listel fixed the pottage and tea. Pulling out the small tub of butter she spread some of it over the slices and set them on the table. She then went about gathering up cups for the tea and placed them next to everyone's bowls.
She listened at Valatar explained that the Yugile had once more come to the village, this always disheartened her. Valatar was right about one thing, it made her happy to know the people were rising up against the Yugile, they still believed in her and that's what mattered. "I wont Valatar," her tone was light and riddled with concern. "Listel is making breakfast Valatar, be grateful she's chosen to cook today, I'm afraid my mood would sully the food." she cut the cheese into slices and set them near the bread on table and sat down in her chair to await the pottage.
"We should all go to the market today, it will be a nice outing in which we are all in need of. It's rained the last few days and we've been cooped up for far too long." Her attention was drawn them to the door as a knock sounded, her heart nearly stopped in her chest, no one ever came to their home. Rising from the chair she moved further back into the sitting room and hid herself in case it was danger.
She wouldn't fight unless she had to, but first Listel had to see who it was. Aveline peered out from her hiding spot and awaited to see who it was and what they wanted. If it was the Yugile, they'd search the home but only find a blond young woman and leave as they had before.

Somewhere deep in the wilds of Murkwood

Ivelios moved forwards with lithe and grace, his slender elven body maneuvering beneath a collection of rope-like vines by one of the twisted and gnarled appearing trees. Adjacent was a fallen--moss covered log. His elven perceptions were kept on high alert even though he was definitely sure only a highly experienced tracker could find his path through the brush to his position here. He had been stalking this heavy antlered creature for nearly two days now.

Peeking his head out over the log slowly, the thicket of branches and leaves that covered his head and shoulders. He was completely blended in, to the moose he looked like little more than just a part of the log its self--an extension, maybe a sapling trying to grow. His race was painted in the residue of the forest he was in; deep browns from the soils and rotted old trees, greens from mosses and portions of his fair skin that came out as varying shades of gray depending on if it were only lightly specked with dirt.

The green hooded mantle made of lamb wool was braced to the hide and leather ensemble of his attire that also drew earthy tones and broke up his silhouette as long as he didn't stand in a clear way. Pressing one shoulder to the tree, he lowered himself back down and slowly, painstakingly made an effort to creep around the wide base of the tree trunk. His booted feet careful not to snare themselves in the tangle of roots that protruded. Nocking an arrow with deathly silence, he pulled the yew shaft back against the long, flexible cable of sinew.

The tip was a finished steel broadhead, that looked more like a dagger all its own. Forty percent of the blade had serrations on it, allowing it to penetrate heavily into a target and cause as much bleeding as possible. It wasn't an effort of cruelty, but a humane and practical one instead. Raising the bow up fluidly and slowly, he lowered it before himself as he drew the arrow back. There was much concentration involved. His almond shaped elven eyes glinting softly but not brightly as he took careful aim and consideration. His hand holding the masterfully crafted woodland composite bow; the elvish on the outward curves of each end reciting his pledge to his people, quietly reminding hm of it daily.

The moose lifted his head, and as Ivelios exhaled slowly, he let the arrow released the arrow. It soared from his hand, the moose not noticing until it was finally struck in the throat. The bull moose reacted fervently, adamantly demanding its life. Ivelios, as a ranger, could feel its heart quickening as fear set in. It turned and charged him almost immediately. Ivelios scaled the tree next to him letting the bull pass before slinging upside down--his legs coiled like a snake around one of the trees outward lying branches. He nocked another arrow, and took careful practiced aim with the bow. Firing the projectile, it rushed to the animal striking it in the back of neck where its skull met its spine. The heavy beast fell forwards without another noise. It slid until it decidedly stopped.

Releasing and spinning in mid air, Ivelios landed on his feet like a cat. Nocking a third arrow, he inched closer to he moose--always suspecting unless proven otherwise. The broadhead directed at its scalp. He side stepped, making a complete circle around the animal. It was dead. The blood leaked freely from its mouth and wet snout. Its eyes were glazed over as it lie motionless on its chest with all four of its legs bent back. A twenty-one point bull was now laying there and needed to be towed back to the tribe fore harvesting. It would be a good supper tonight.

Ira perched at the edge of the wood and watched the stranger who had just annihilated half of her squadron and left the others begging for mercy. Men were such cowards she scoffed to herself shaking her orange hair out of her eyes. She had held back to repair a trap and when she was catching up she saw the encounter and chose to hold her position. The man had moved swift and skillfully with his weapon, but it looked like he was traveling with musical instruments as well. Was he a murdering minstrel? Quite an interesting occupation, but who was she to judge. She silently stalked him, sheilded from sight by the leafy foilage, her breath a mere whisper. As she got a closer look, she noticed he was a rather attractive male, but it seemed as if his head was somewhere in the clouds. "Yep definitely an artist. But a leathal one." She whispered to herself. He approached the old cottage on the hill. She knew an old man occupied that small house, they had scouted it for some time, but she had warned her men to never raid it. The old hermit seemed to keep to himself, but something always seemed a bit off to Ira. As if he wasnt who he seemed to be, and that was one of the biggest reasons she had told her men to stear clear. So why was this man needing to hold a conference with the old goat. 'What on earth could he want with the old man? Family perhaps? or maybe he is just looking for lodging.' Still in the shadows she adjusted the bone fragments that were strapped to her leather clothing. Gauntlets, a shirt that showed mych more skin than necessary, and pants with knee high hunter boots. Her blade straped to her back for safekeeping until needed. Her sea foam eyes scoured the area for any signs of other new comers, but none were too be found. Simply this strange "murdering minstrel" as she had so cleverly named him. As the man knocked on the door, Ira held her breath so as to hear what was said.

He was just about to say something when he heard the knock at the door. The princess was already up and in the other room, and Listel had gone to the door. He looked down at his cup of tea and sighed lightly.

Pushing himself to his feet he quietly stepped into the other room with the princess and waved his hand over her birthmark, casting a masking spell, "Precaution in case it's one of the Yugile's men." He whispered, she already knew the necessary steps he would have to take to ensure her safety. After that he turned away from here and quietly hurried back to the kitchen, moving towards Listel's tea cup, he ran his finger around the edge in an attempt to cast a visionary spell. One that would allow him to see who Listel was looking at without him exposing his position. Nothing. He closed is eyes and calmly tried again, when he opened them and looked down, he saw normal tea. He cursed under his breath, "Petty details that I should pay attention to in the future."

It would take a lot of his energy to recast a masking spell on himself, and he didn't exactly want to be stuck as an old man if trouble, or a fight, did break out. He did need to be ready. He closed his eyes again and mentally checked all the attack spells that he knew, ones that he could effectively cast without draining his energy to a dangerous point. Knowing it wouldn't be necessary to cast any attacking spells, he reopened his eyes and cautiously stepped towards the hallway leading to the front door, and leaned on the wall, waiting.

"I think I should tell you, stalker," said Secru, in a loud, clear voice, as he waited for the door to open, "That I have very good hearing. You're good, but not quite good enough to sneak up on a paranoid like me. So rather than me turn around, why not show yourself, like a polite little stalker, and maybe we can talk?" He forced himself to remain calm. But his hand was only a few inches from his sword. "Elven, are you?"

Before he received any answer, the door opened. The person who stood there - well, she was definitely Elven, no doubt about it - and a damn sexy piece, too. He felt sonnets and epics about her already fighting to write themselves in his mind. He was already regretting his travel-stained attire, the roughness of wearing a sword, the fact that he was sweaty and disheveled from the journey. He bowed as well as he was able, after riding so long. He was stiff from sitting on a horse - and, to be truthful, stiff for other reasons, though he hoped the female wouldn't notice that -

"My name is Secru Suamo," he said. "I seek Valatar." And then realizing that this wasn't dramatic enough - "The stars shine at our meeting, sweet Elder - and your beauty shames the sun, if I may say so." He bowed again, and removed his sword-belt, handing it to her. And as he bent to kiss her hand he whispered "By the way, there''s someone following me. I don't know if they be friend or foe, yet. Be on your guard."

Ira pulled back swiftly at being discovered. "Damn he's good." She snarled. Then a brow raised as and elven kin answered the door. She was not aware another being lived in the house, much less and elf. That old man definitely wasnt what he seemed. 'And did he say Valatar. And what was that god awful rambling about? He was not a Murdering Minstrel but a Murderer OF Minstrel.' Ira tried to scan her memories of where she had heard that name before, but was quickly drawn back to reality when her presence was made known to the elven woman. "So you're a charmer and a blabber mouth." She grumbled to herself. She went through a battle in her mind of whether or not she should come out of hiding and eventually her retreating instincts kicked in. She made to swing up into the high branches of a tree, but as she did so her pouch caught on a buch and broke free from her waist. "Dammit! Of all the times to have bad luck." She scampered higher still so she ould be out of sight from anyone, leaving it behind for now. She would collect her bag when it was safe.

The soft thud of hooves against a dirt path could be heard as another was nearly approaching the forest in which he was told he could find the wizard that guards the princess. Leo was in no rush to get there though, infact he was quite the opposite. He needed all the time he could get before he met with the princess; there was such a big decision to be made. Dark eyes idly watched for anything out of place as his dapple grey mare plodded towards the forest. The ragged cloak of his mercenary guild billowed a little behind him, held in place by the black metal shoulder guard that sat comfortably on his right arm. There were patches of this black armour all over, and a gauntlet on his right arm, three blades protruding from the knuckles. The rest of his attire was made from rough material, in a mix of mossy greens and dusty brown, with leather belts here and there for his weapons: a scythe strapped to his back and a couple of daggers slotted into his belt.

The words of the councilman were cycling through his head over and over again.

You tell me where the princess is when you find her, or your precious fiancée will be healed by my blade in her heart.

The fist that held the horses reigns tightened, the sliver of silver around his finger glinted in the morning light. Fior had a matching ring, signifying their bond. He couldn't let her die. He wouldn't kill her. But if he didn't report the princess's whereabouts, then she would be dead before he would return to her. The council said they would heal her in return for helping return the princess to them, but they had no idea of the threat on her life by one of their own. If Leo even thought of telling the council of the spy among them, he would probably lose Fior that way too. There was just no way of getting what he wanted, not that he could think of at the moment anyway.

A long, drawn out, sigh escaped the male. There was so much going wrong, and nothing he could do about it. He had been asked to do this for his skills, but he was stuck now in a different battle - one he would surely lose. His quite thoughts continued as he slowly got closer and closer to the forest. The longer he took to get to the princess, the more time he had to decide what was right. To save Fior, or restore the princess to her former position?

Being a feral elf, and a ranger no less, made Ivelios' communion with nature itself, very strong. As he stripped the arrow from his bow, put it back in his quiver with the other twenty or so finely crafted shafts. He slung the bow over one shoulder, and his head letting it dangle at an angle. He began to clear the immediate area. He knelt on the outside of the circle he had made with his feet by clearing vines and removing the vegetation. Stepping out of the circle, he knelt reverently. Placing his moss covered hands upon the earth and began to speaking in the elvish tongue--conjuring the earthen spirit.

"Alae! Ered en Echoriath, ered e-mbar nín!" He chanted, reciting the words with practiced ease.

The earth began to tremble and shake, what was simply loose soil, trees and rocks became a sentinel, a warden for the forests. Towering above Iveilos was the surrounding trees and earth. The very rock made a formidable carapace, with two molten cores for eyes. Its hand spawned where the circle had been drawn, a craggy, rocky formation bulged and up rooted from the ground taking the moose with it. Lifting its self up, an astounding sixteen feet or more it cradled the twelve-hundred pound kill.

"Spirit of these woods, would kindly assist me? My village is not but a few short miles from here."

The mountain of earth groaned in acceptance and moved forth. Its way of travel very unique. Its feet breaking off with each step--yet--re-materializing with the following from the new earth. It would look as though it were simply hovering for a few moments each stride. The elf packed his things, stood and began to flee from the area, running ahead.

Listel gave the young man a awkward look as blathered on with pleasantries, "I might, but I do not know this Valatar you speak of", she didn't need any warning about the young woman tailing him she had already seen her. And was keeping her ears open for any sign that his little "stalker" as he put it wasn't giving a signal to someone more threatening then the young man. Listel was a little reluctant to let him in but if he was Yugile he would get suspicious if she did not and demand entrance. But this guy didn't look like a Yugile, but its possible that they had resorted to having others do their dirty work just to get the princess. Anyone would do anything with the right persuasion, be it money, blackmail, or just all around fear. She was hoping that she could get some kind of response from Valatar who was standing just out of sight.

"I'm sorry sir I can not help you, there is not a soul with that name that lives here. Just my mistress and her grandfather", she bowed low. "I am ever so sorry sir but I must get back to my work, I hope you find who you are looking for good day", she said as she came up gracefully from the bow. She closed the door in front of the young man, she didn't know what the guy was up to but she had learned cation was always the best policy. If he was just a passing traveler he would leave with that explanation, if he was Yugile he would busting the door down. She prayed to the goddess that he didn't but she was curious as to how he knew Valatar's name. "Valatar do you know this man, he seems harmless but, I know looks can be deceiving?", she used an elven sign language that she knew that wizard would understand. She didn't want to alert the young man behind the door by talking or whispering, he obviously had good hearing if he was able to detect the woman following him.

She had often used this technique with the wizard in situations such as this. It came in quite handy because most common folk didn't know it. The sign language was something you learned at a very young age in her Elven tribe. Even though Listel was just a half elf no one would know if she did not tell them. Her father had been kind because many did not agree with him taking a human woman as a mate. When she passed giving birth to Listel many thought that he would abandon his new babe, but he did not he raised her as any other elven child. And eventually the people who had been against her mother realized that there was not much difference and the matter was dropped.

Normally, under such circumstances, Secru would have hastened to shove his foot in the door, preventing her shutting it on him. Three things stopped him. The first was that the woman had had a definite look of the elder about her, and one thing a poet does not do, if they can help it, is offend elves. It just wasn't done. The second reason was that he was in no doubt these people were connected with the princess in some way, and he needed to gain their trust. The third reason, and perhaps most compelling of all, was that one day, he knew in his heart, they'd be a great epic poem about his life (even if he had to write it himself, dammit) and being boorish and overbearing wouldn't so his legend much good! So he stood there, waiting patiently, doing disgusting things to iambic pentameters in his head, and mentally rehearsing a new combination of lyre-chords he'd been experimenting with. Finally, he grew bored with this, and bethought himself of the "stalker", who he had been sneakily regarding with the corner of his sharp eyes the whole time. Though she was out of sight, he knew exactly where she was, by the fact that the circling birds were avoiding a particular part of the tree. Kelinians do not miss much!

"Hey, little stalker," he sang out, loudly. "It must be so uncomfortable up there. Why not come down and have a chat? Really, I don't bite? Not on first acquaintance, anyway. Well- " he amended, in a rare fit of honesty, "Not usually..."

Ira watched as the elf spoke and shut the door, noticing she was hesitant. "Something is definitely up with them." She narrowed her eyes in suspision. She shook her hair out of her eyes and pulled her blade from its sheath. Crouching on the limb she examined the situation and her brows raised when the door was shut in the man's face. He seemed to sit there for a moment in lala land and she coulnd help but snicker. 'maker bless exccentrics. they provide so many joke opportunities.' she thought to herself. Then, upon being addressed once more she breathed a curse. With a heavy sigh she stood, balancing with ease and ran, leaping out as she came to the tip of the branch. Soaring through the air in a swan dive, she made a soft flip and landed in a crouch on the soft moss and leaves. Rasing up slowly, her chin tipped up slightly, the wind blew blowing her hair back from her face Her body glistened with the light sheen of sweat that coated the exposed areas of skin, (of which there were many) and her fierce eyes flashed mischeiviously. A brow raised, she stalked closer to the stanger, twirling her blade skillfully and replacing it in its sheath with a fluid motion. "You might not bite on first encounters, but I do. Especially if its meeting someone who just mudered half of my new recruits. Cause that has now added more work into my schedule and I do so hate working. Thats why I have new recruits, so they can do the work for me." She purred with a silky voice. He wasnt very extravagantly dressed, and it was obvious he did not enjoy travelling and was not used to wearing such attire. His blade however caught her attention, and she stayed aware of its presence, knowing how leathal the man was with the weapon.

Valatar had been listening to the conversation between Listel and the person at the door. He let out a light sigh and stepped out from his cover as the door shut behind. "No." He gestured in the sign language. He looked towards Listel, then back at the door "Someone loyal to the princess might have sent him, though, I have a bad feeling about it altogether. If I don't come through that door, make sure the Princess gets out of here. I have a plan." He stated in the sign language again, 'If it's an elaborate trap. Why not taste the water?' The question rang loudly in his head, as did the plan he came up with.

He disappeared back into the kitchen and moved quickly into one of the back rooms where he picked up an old cross bow that he had with him, it was loaded with a bolt, the only bolt he had, though that was something that wouldn't be necessary as it was part of the plan. Unloading the bolt from the cross bow, he sat that aside and left the room, cross bow in hand, approaching one of the back walls where he waved his hand over the wall and then stepped through it.

The surroundings were quite different, considering he was now outside facing a thick forest at the back of the house. Pressing himself against the wall of the house, he started off quietly, one foot in front of the other as he rounded the corner with the cross bow shouldered. As he rounded the corner, he could see that another person had joined, after she gracefully and skillfully landed. Her weapon was drawn, and he kept the cross bow's sight on her.

'Great.' He thought, keeping the cross bow trained on the woman, even though now she had sheathed the blade, he slowly cross stepped away from the wall of the house until he could see the other man, being extremely careful with his steps until he was evenly between both, and closer to the thicket of trees. After a few seconds passed by, he moved the sight away from the woman, and estimated where the middle ground between both of the visitors were. They didn't seem to be working together, and in itself was probably the trap the Yugile had set, and he wasn't going to take any chances.

The cross bow was his focus for the next thing he was going to do. Rather than cast an absurd spell, he closed his eyes and imagined that the cross bow was loaded with actual ammunition, though in reality it wasn't. Focusing his thoughts on the spell, he placed his finger on the trigger and pulled it. Click. A blueish-purple bolt of pure magical essence shot out, and slammed into the ground between the two guests. When the ground was hit with this magical attack, it exploded into dust and a few small pieces of rocks.

Immediately after he opened his eyes and tossed the cross bow aside carelessly. He slide one foot back as if to brace himself, and brought both of his hands in front of him in a defensive stance, rather than balling them up in a fist, he left them open. A casual wind caused his black robes to gently flutter, revealing a bit of leather armor from underneath.

Leo knew exactly what Fior would say to him if he asked her advise on the matter. She'd look up at him with those big ocean blue eyes, with the most serious of expressions as strands of her dark brown hair fell either side of her face,

"You forget about me," She would say, her gentle voice now stern and demanding. There were only a number of times when she spoke like that. "You do your job, and return the princess to the throne. You forget about curing me, because I will never leave you in this realm alone."

From the moment she knew about the status of her illness, she had always said that if she did pass because of it, she would always follow him in spirit and he would never be alone. She said she would wait by his side until the day he too passed over, then together they would drift to the next life. Leo couldn't help but smile, Fior was always trying to comfort others, especially him when it came to her death. She wasn't afraid of dying, her spiritualistic life had taught her what would happen in death - and so she had been ready for a long time. The trouble was that Leo didn't know if he was ready for her to die. He certainly knew that he wouldn't be sure what to do with himself without her.

At this point, Leo was entering the forest, the sunlight now dappled through the trees. The shade was somewhat comforting, the cooler air taking down the heat that filled his body due to frustration. But he knew now that he was closer to having to make a decision, and still no clue as to what to do. Leo had to be cautious here, the trees gave perfect cover for bandits and other such oddities that were set to try and ruin him. Hopefully he wouldn't have to deal with that issue, the armour and weapons on his person being enough to tell any mere thief that he wasn't to be toiled with. But there was always one that thought they could take on the world, those who needed teaching the hard way.

When Leo had lost the edge of the trees that he'd passed through what only seemed like moments ago, his steed made an abrupt stop. He frowned at the mare, gently kicking at her sides to get her to move forward again, but she refused. The horse had been spooked by something, by what Leo didn't know. The fist with his bladed gauntlet on tightened a little, prepared for any attack that may have game, but all he felt was a sudden pulse of strong air hit him, he had to raise his free arm over his eyes as dust and dirt flew past, his ebony hair tousled back by the wave before everything fell back into place.
Leo gingerly let his arm fall back to the reigns,
"Strange..." He muttered, glancing around for a moment to make sure that it wasn't some kind of distraction so somebody could sneak up on him. Whatever it was, there was definitely some great power behind it.

Leo patted the neck of his steed, comforting her enough to move forward towards where the pulse had come from.
"Perhaps she's closer than I had hoped for..." He continued to mutter to himself as they continued to plod towards the point where the wave had come from.

"Well, be fair," Secru began, trying not to ignore the fact that his stalker - just as he'd hoped - was beautiful indeed! Even that weird arrangement of bones she wore tied to her clothing was cute - in a very fierce sort of way! "They did attack me. I'd have been happy to ride on by, if - what the - ??!!!"

His words were cut off by a purply-blue bolt of pure essence that came from nowhere, grounding in the earth between the feet of Secru and the stalker, with an explosion that kicked up dust. The lightning fast reflexes that were a byword in his native province came into play, and he flung himself at the stalker, dragging her down and away from the blast. To his credit, the move to protect her had been instinctive and not calculated, though even as they landed on the ground with a thump he was congratulating himself that it was an act of chivalry that would, hopefully, find its way into his legend! As she sprawled, the already immodest shirt she wore rode upwards, revealing a quite immodest amount of midriff that looked somewhat undignified. Frankly, he'd have preferred some subtle eye-contact before hurling himself at her - actions like that could get a guy a reputation!

Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the sight, and turned in the direction of the threat, reaching for his sword.

There stood a dark-skinned, bulky individual, presenting open palms to them in a dramatic gesture - someone who's almost as vain as me, was Secru's first thought - and then he took in the prayer-beads, the wizard-like attire, the look in the eyes. This was no cut-rate hedge wizard. They were in the presence of something powerful. And if he wasn't mistaken, that was leather armor under that robe!

"I think, sir," he began "That you might be mistaken about myself, at least. I'm no peddler, selling double roofing-thatch or fast-horse messenger services, but a legitimate caller. I can't answer for the lady here, since we've just met, but let me assure you-"

He watched the wizard's hands carefully as he babbled, trying to guess his intention. His hand was still an inch from his sword.