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Davien Kietrasun

A small cloaked figure like you've probably never seen.

0 · 287 views · located in Vlyhihr Fields

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by Davien, as played by RolePlayGateway

Groups

People who are often involved in Origin, generally living there, doing business there, or such.

Description

Davien Kietrasun

Racial Traits

• Race: Mishqua
• Base Speed: 30 ft.
• + 4 Dexterity
• +2 Int
• +2 Char
• - 4 Constitution
Davien is considered middle aged for a Mishqua. This has the additional following effects:
• -1 Strength, Dexterity, Constitution
• +1 Intelligence, Wisdom, Charisma

With racial and age based benefits and detriments considered, the adjusted Skill set reads as stated below:

• +3 Intelligence
• +3 Dexterity
• +1 Wisdom
• +3 Charisma
• -1 Strength
• -5 Constitution

Mishqua are of medium size and light weight. This means they cannot don heavy armor. However, it grants the following effects:

• +4 on Hide and Move Silently, and Escape Artist checks
• +2 to saves versus enchantments, and +2 to DC to any enchantments Davien Casts.
• Mishqua acquire the Keen Scent trait if their Wisdom is 11 or higher.
• Mishqua have Low Light and Dark Vision.



Physical Description


Age: 63
Height: 4’0”
Weight: 45 lbs.
Eyes: Gold

Physique:


Standing tall for a Mishqua at four feet, Davien is still also incredibly slender just like the rest of his race. His fur is just barely on the scruffy side, giving him a disheveled look to others of his kind. Most other races won't notice at all. His lower left canine is chipped off clean at the base from repetitive grinding. His tail, almost long enough to drag on the ground if not lifted, remains maintained and groomed, unlike the rest of Davien's Fur. His eyes are sharp as a tack, even in his well-hidden "middle age". Just the slightest cloud of age hides in his iris. His ears are slightly larger than what they would be on an average fox, and the coloration of them gives an illusion of them being larger still. His teeth are also yellowed from occasional pipe smoking.

Davien has three scars. The first scar is a claw mark down his muzzle, almost completely faded with time and covered up with fur. Only in certain lighting or with a very close look would it be obvious. The second scar is wrapped around Daviens lower calf. It is a bald spot all the way around his leg, with little evenly spaced dots directly in the center. (Davien wraps a colorful cloth around this one to hide it, and states its purely for the fashion, or a religious tradition if truly being pressed.) The third, largest scar is a large set of teeth marks going across his abdomen and back, horizontally along the top of his hips, and curving upward towards the ribcage at the edges. The scar is almost a mirror image of itself on his front and back. Although this is actually dozens of scars, they are counted as one. Davien will brag about or try to intimidate people with stories about his first scar, but he will never, ever intentionally let anyone see his second or third.

Davien certainly knows how to dress to impress. He keeps a set of nice clothes for when he gets into the city, but usually sticks with his cowl and leather armor. He foregoes boots and gloves. As stated above he always has some sort of cloth wrapped around his calf.

Coloration:


Daviens paws are completely black, turning orange halfway up his forearms and legs. His chest is white at the center, fading into orange around the abdomen. The tip of his tail is also white, with a small band of black before turning orange up to the base. The tip of his nose is jet black, very quickly turning white along the muzzle and curling down around the mouth, connecting with the white patch on his chest. Small black circles around his eyes could almost pass for very thick mascara. Davien is peppered with sparse gray fur from the tips of his ears to his feet, but he ferociously denies it. Once again, this is a feature that would pass by almost any other race except for a Foxkin.

Biography:


Davien had stable and boring first two decades of his life, nestled away in the forest in a community called Talbot. The community was made up of about 20 other Mishqua. They were close enough to civilization to trade and bring back trinkets from the corners of the world, but Daviens existence was about 1 square mile. His parents, the Chefs for the community, never left the village. They never let Davien leave either. Whether they were paranoid about the outside world, or trying to hide away from something, we may never know. Davien was usually stonewalled when he got to asking too many questions about it. He would listen to stories that his friends’ parents would tell of the outside world, and when his friends began to leave as well, he began to loathe his parents. Out of all of Talbot, he was sure their family was the only one to never leave.

There was only one thing that kept him from running away: Arliss. He had secretly admired her since he was a kit. They had always been best friends, but she had also always been courted by another. His name was Garcon. Years ago, if Davien had just beaten him to the punch and been truthful with Arliss, the story might be very different today.

One-day Davien snapped. He could not take the thought of her with him for another second. As he approached them while they walked together down the road, he began to run towards Garcon. Surprise began to fill both their eyes Garcon braced for the blow. In the ensuing fight the tables turned against Davien very quickly. Before long, he was on the ground, bleeding from the face. This is where he received his first scar, across his muzzle. Suddenly Garcons assault ceased as he let out a stifled yelp of pain. As Daviens eyes focused, he saw Arliss had hit him in the back of the head with a stone, which now lay next to his unconscious body. As Davien stood up he met Arliss's eyes. It became apparent her feelings mirrored his own. Garcon still lay at their feet. They had to do something, he was coming to. His eyes blearily opened and focused on the pair. Arliss kicked him once more directly in the snout, sending him back under. She took Davien's hand, running towards the forest with him in tow. That was the last time either of them set foot in Talbot.

From that day forward Davien and Arliss were inseparable, madly in love. They did not find a road they didn't want to travel down. As long as they were together, the world was their home. They lived under the sun and slept under the stars. It never even occurred to them in the three decades they spent roaming to return to Talbot. When Arliss and Davien came to a city, they loved to tell stories (if somewhat inflated) of their adventures to the townsfolk in exchange for food and provisions. They could also hold up surprisingly well in a fight for two small foxes, but were entirely dependent on each other. Davien would zig, and Arliss would zag. Most likely they would be easy to take down individually. Perhaps this is another reason they never wanted to be out of each other’s sight.


On a freezing mountain pass, one winters afternoon, the couple had been stranded by the weather. They were forced to find a nearby cave to take shelter in. The pitch-black cave was comprised of small, tight tunnels riddled with rock formations. As they settled in, Davien stepped on what he thought must be a snake. But a tendril snapped taut and wrapped around Davien's leg, piercing it with nail sized claws. This is where Davien received his second scar. He screamed in pain, alerting Arliss to his situation.

He had alerted a Roper. The tentacle dragged him ever closer as he lost more of his strength. He looked at Arliss, completely helpless and quickly losing muscle function. The beast lifted him up off the ground and opened its maw, lowering Davien in. He felt teeth begin to pierce his body, threatening to separate his top half from his bottom half. This is how he received his third scar. Suddenly though, the teeth retracted and Davien was thrown well across the tunnel, sliding across the ground in a bloody heap. He still had just enough strength to look back and see that Arliss had climbed up the monster’s rocky exterior, ascending to its cycloptic eye. She had plunged a dagger into it, causing the tentacles to flail and mouth fly open as the Roper let out a bellow of rage and anguish.

Rocks began to fall from the ceiling as Arliss ran full speed towards Davien. The ceiling collapsed over her as she was roughly 20 feet from him. Davien, beaten and bloody, snapped to a state of clarity and panic. Relying entirely on his sense of smell, he dug through the rocks for hours trying to find her. She couldn't be gone. It was impossible. He finally pulled aside a moderately sized rock to find her hand in the rubble. Davien grabbed it and squeezed. Cold, stiff... Gone. He had failed her. He tried to move more rubble, but the boulder sized chunks of rock refused to budge. He sat down, rubbed his paws into his eyes and screamed. He couldn't tell if it was minutes or hours when he stopped. He only did so out of pure exhaustion.

Falling back onto the cave floor, Davien fell into an involuntary slumber. When he awoke there was still no indication of time passed. Only one thing was certain anymore, he was no longer whole, no longer truly alive as he was. He began to ponder the possibilities, he knew of necromancers from tales he had heard in Talbot, but, had no knowledge of where they were or are in the world. There had to be someone out there who could right this wrong, and it was making more and more sense to him to do what he had done next. Davien cut her hand off her arm and wrapped it up in a cloth. It sickened him to his core to do so, but in his mind, it was the only chance to bring her back.

Daviens psyche received a permanent hairline fracture that day, making it his own secretive goal to find a Necromancer and bring back Arliss using only her dried, leathery hand. He keeps it tucked away in his satchel around people. When alone, especially at night, he will take it out, lace his fingers with "hers" and gaze at the stars. He will still talk to her as well, sometimes spending hours telling her about his recent activities, and progress to bring her back. Davien however still has enough self-awareness to know how creepy this looks, and goes through great lengths to hide his strange behavior.

It is more than likely true that he simply cannot help utilizing this type of coping mechanism though, the hand being his entire world, future and past. His substitute reason for existence and underlying goal. He wanders through his days since the end of his world in a disjointed state, still roaming along as he did with Arliss, but with a new sense of purpose and urgency. He sometimes doesn’t sleep for days travelling to the next rumor or lead he's heard and becomes delirious, succumbing to his own psyche and hallucinating. This can cause erratic behavior.


Overall though, he is still very vibrant, outgoing and pleasant company. He likes to hear new tales and jokes, not for his own interest, but to seem interesting when he repeats them for an audience. He is always the first to say hello, always the first to offer help. But he would also immediately expect you to help him soon after. Davien tries to have people unwittingly help with his agenda, all while making it seem like he's helping them. This has varying degrees of success. Without Arliss he is very hesitant to fight, and would more than likely want to talk his way out of jams than rely on combat.





Quirks:
• Davien begins to wring his hands the longer he talks. He just can't help it.
• Davien has a disjointed and unfocused attention span. Sometimes it seems like while he is fully listening, he is still miles away, thinking ahead for whatever he's planning next.
• Davien mumbles incessantly. Though barely audible, it is almost like he cannot have a thought without mouthing it.
• Davien grinds his teeth in his sleep. He is an extremely restless sleeper, only getting an average of 3-4 hours a night.
• Davien can stand being indoors but grows increasingly irritated and anxious the longer he is. He doesn't like being in buildings, and especially caves.

So begins...

Davien Kietrasun's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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#, as written by Sambea
Tamara had just entered the bar after traveling from a town before this one and looked at her stomach after it gave off a horrible growl. She looked around and smiled at the friendly look bartender before waving at him and taking a seat across from a Mishqua. She stared a bit with a smile.

Tamara scooted closer to the edge of her seat and leaned in a bit, "I really like your coat. You should be very proud of it. I am Tamara, by the way. Sorry for suck the awkward introduction." She said with a small laugh and looked at the waitress who asked her what she would like to drink after handing her a menu. "Uhhh, rootbeer, please!" She said excitedly and watched her walk away before turning her attention back on the Mishqua.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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#, as written by Davien
Davien had propped himself up against the wall, dozing off into his ale. He had been on the road for what seemed like days, and his muddied mind had no frame of reference to give him an answer. He lazily reached down and made sure his satchel was still on his side. Not like anyone would have tried to steal it, but nervous habits die hard. He took a drink, flavorless and unfilling. It didn't even have the signature bite that alcohol has as it goes down. Sighing, he began to stand up to leave. He had only swung his legs out to egress when out of the corner of his eye, he saw her. It seemed like an eternity since he had seen that face, or was it a few days ago...? The poor Mishqua couldn't quite remember. He stood, dumbstruck, catching her eyes before attempting her name. Dave outstretched his arms, speaking with relief. “Arliss!” He exclaimed.

Dave awoke, flailing his arms across the table and knocking his ale off the counter and onto the floor. Involuntarily he yelled “Arliss!” Still coming to. Bleary eyed, he looked at the figure perched before him, realizing he had neither drank any beer or gotten up at all. Still confused and a bit annoyed he didn’t get to talk to her longer, he blearily looked up towards Tamara.
“My Coat? What?” He looked down, eyes beginning to focus. Straightening out his cowl he looked back at Tamara. “Thank you… Its from a tailor…” He drawled out, stating the obvious and missing the point she was talking about his fur. He gave a yawn and a stretch, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As Tamara ordered her root beer, he also caught the waiters attention, politely pointing at the beer he had spilt and asked for another. He once again checked for his satchel, this time knowing it was there for sure, and this was not a dream. Davien turned his full attention to Tamara, paws delving into a pocket sewn into his cowl for coin.
He gave a small smile, making fleeting eye contact with her.
“I can see you’re bad at introductions, usually they include a name and a handshake. Or so I’ve seen and heard.” His ears perked up a bit as he extended his paw across the table, almost seeming like he was already thinking about something else. “Davien. What’s a kid like you doing in a place like this without your mommy and daddy?”
His erroneous conclusion was that simply based on height, she must be an unattended child. Davien had seen a few things in his life, but never a female Yordle before. Despite all this he was attempting to be as polite as he could.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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#, as written by Sambea
Tamara blinked at the Mishqua when he talked about the wrong coat and was going to correct him when he called her a kid and asked where her parents were. She glared at him for a moment before the bartender handed her her drink. "Cyric... Cyyyrrriiicccc. Okay! It is stuck in my brain. Please to meet you to I am Tamara!" She said and watched him for a bit before letting him get back to work. Her head slowly turned back to Davien, "I am seventeen. I think I surpass the need for my mommy and daddy." She said before smiling. "So... are you from around here? I just got here. Took me..." She said and counted on her fingers. "Three months, two weeks, and four days to get here." She laughed before looking over who came in and stared for a second before going back to Davien.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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#, as written by Davien
Davien hadn’t considered how long it had taken him to get here. In fact, he hadn’t taken the time to consider how long it had taken for him to get anywhere in quite a while. He repeated the question back to her. “Am I from around here?” He gazed into the middle distance as he slid his gold towards the bartender with another polite thank you. He truly wanted to answer, but couldn’t quite bring up the name. “I’m simply from around, I suppose. I’ve been travelling for… a little while now.” He conveniently left out that it had been decades. His ears perked up as the door swung open. “Even so, that’s quite the time to travel. Especially alone at your ag…” He stopped himself short, putting a thoughtful finger on his muzzle. “Height.” He cringed a bit, realizing his impromptu answer was just as bad as his instinctual one. Offering a shrug and a small smile he looked back at her. “Why did you come all this way? What is here for you to seek?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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The middle-aged man looked over his current patrons with a curious glance. They were an odd bunch, but each one had managed to pay for his, or her drink and meal. He couldn't complain, but the Mishqua was the oddest to make an entrance. Underneath the cowl, he could see the muzzle of a fox-like feature, but he wasn't going to question the man's origins. That'd be bad for business. He shrugged at his thoughts and rose a brow at Tamara, but only when she repeated his name back in the strangest speech. There was something unusual about her too and it wasn't just her age or height. Her species hadn't been seen in this area for quite awhile, but he didn't feel the desire to pry a customer for their past.

Again, that'd be bad for business.

Cyric smirked at Jira, his sister and only living relative. She could get underneath his skin, no doubt about it, but he didn't dare show it on the surface. There was something charming about her, but now he knew why their father could never marry her off. Sarcasm and coyness was never flattering from a lady. His expression softened and he patted her on the head with equal sarcasm.

He murmured something underneath his breath and within moments, the entirety of the bar glowed with a dim golden light. In quick succession, everything was organized and cleaned. He could have always cheated with a cheap enchant, but he enjoyed the manual labor. Work gave him peace of mind and an escape from reality, but he doubted Jira would understand the pleasure in that. Since the death of their parents, Cyric had managed to spoil her too much. She was able to be leisure and enjoy her books, or learn more spellcraft and gem crafting, while he worked the bar.

That would all change in awhile and he was certain she'd be in for a rude awakening.

"If you want to be able to afford those books, I'd recommend tending to the customers." He snapped back and ignored her comment about enchanting his boots with a quickness enchant. The bar was already cleaned and organized from his previous enchant, but that was such a novice spellcraft, that he acted indifferent by its ability. To an outsider, they might marvel at the simple feat, which always brought in more customers, but his mind was concentrating on something else. "We don't have the luxury to sit around and eat bon-bon's, Jira." He smiled at her and spoke to her in a jovial tone, but there was a hint of truth to his words. If they didn't pull in more customers, or get money from quests, they'd have to fund their lifestyle another way.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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#, as written by Sambea
Tamara listened to him and shook her head, smiling a bit. "A bit, huh?" She asked before thinking about her answer. While doing so her eyes looked about as the place seemed to clean itself before looking back over towards the bartender and the girl who had walked in previously she had seen some magic, given she did some herself, before looking back at the Mishqua before her. "I just go where my feet take me. Plus I help those in need on the way... and I like food and culture." She shrugged before smiling. "And I am young, so I might as well see the world while I can." She said and poked at her drink before taking a sip.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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#, as written by Davien
Davien felt a tingle ripple through his fur and down his spine as he shook his head unconsiously. The room began to glow as items floated about and organized themselves. Well, good to know he still had the “sixth sense” about magic. Listening to Tamara made some part of Daviens soul reignite for just a bit, reminiscing on when he was young and full of wanderlust. Giving a small chuckle and taking a swig of his ale, he nodded.
“Travel leaves you speechless… Then turns you into a great storyteller.” He said with another chuckle, before his eyes grew distant and smile faded.
“I knew someone who said that a lot.”
His paw habitually reached down and touched the top of his satchel, this time feeling the cool leather and brass buckle. Upon the mention of food, Davien realized he hadn't eaten in at least a day. Or two? Eh... Who remembers. Davien hoped food was still being served, as he looked over towards Cyric, waving a paw in the air as his cowl fell off his head, ears popping out from underneath as he waved.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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After the items had been organized and he managed to get his sister to respond, he listened to the patrons with a vague interest. It appeared that Tamara was a traveler, which might make for an interesting conversation starter. The other one, Davien, still had him perplexed. He had never seen a Mishqua up close and personal before. At the same time, he wanted to treat him like any other patron. Cyric wiped his calloused hands on his work pants and went to tend to Davien. His sister was still meandering off to the side. He rolled his eyes at her behavior and decided to do the job himself. Cyric stopped in front of Davien and nodded.

"What can I get ya?" He asked Davien in a friendly tone. He nodded at Tamara's words. "Wise assessment. You don't want to be stuck in one place. I wouldn't recommend it." Cyric spoke from his own experiences and his families. Unfortunately for them, they had to give up traveling for awhile, but he'd give anything to be back on the road. In fact, it could be the reason why he had been feeling restless as of late. The idea of being stuck behind a bar wasn't his favorite past time, but it did give them decent coin to spend and keep a roof over their head. He wanted to give his sister a form of stable life, but he also knew that traveling was in their blood.

He waited for Daviens order and cleaned a glass with a rag to keep himself busy.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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#, as written by Davien
Davien flashed some teeth in his best attempt at a smile, looking towards Cyric but not directly in the eye. He looked down and fumbled again, pulling up more gold.

“Fish? Just any fish. Oh, but don’t cook it. Please.” He never could understand why humans and the like ruined food by burning it. Baring his teeth again, he extended his paw with a few more coins, simply assuming what he had offered was a fair price.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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Following a brief pause she started in motion and began to move about the establishment. Taking finished plates and empty glasses. She made it about and refilled glasses now and again setting a pitcher down on an empty table only to come back to it after navigating through the room. With an arm full of dishes and the other hand carrying a pitcher she disappeared to place them in their proper spot. Re-emerging she frowned a bit, "The cook is a rather lewd fellow." she shakes her head slowly now noticing the Mishqua, having not seen one before.

"Intriguing... where is it you come from? River lands? It would stand to reason with your request of fish..." she began to rattle off question after question, "Do you get along with creatures that don't speak but look similar to you? How is your hearing? Your sight?" she kept going. A hand lifted but she placed it back down quickly and gripped onto her skirt to keep from doing it again. She also managed to keep a little bit of a distance, that is to say she wasn't nose to nose but it could be considered uncomfortably close. This was one of the downsides to attracting her attention.

A double take and the look on her face was one of pure puzzlement as she notice the diminutive being there. Jira had made her mind up that the small being would have her turn but her focus was set for the moment.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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#, as written by Sambea
Tamara listened and then looked confused, "What did they say? I just said some things." She said and looked to where he ordered. "Can I get the clucker strips. Thanks." She ordered and then looked at the woman. She asked a lot of questions and blinked before shaking her head and taking a sip of her drink. She made an ahh sound after and laughed a bit. She loved rootbeer so much and only had it sometimes since she was busy drinking water like an old person. Tamara looked around and not many people were in before she just ended up looking back up at Cyric and smiling.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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#, as written by Davien
As the woman rushed up to the Mishqua, mind full of queries for him, Davien could almost mouth the questions back to her as he had fielded the fray. He was after all, a Mishqua in a humans world. He was used to questions, but not rapid-fire like this.

“Em…” He tried to answer the first question. Before opening his mouth again she was onto the next.

“Well… em..” He began to wring his hands together, getting a little more anxious. The questions kept coming, getting Davien a little more flustered.

“Um… Well I come from…” When she had gotten to asking about his sight and hearing, he gave a little huff of offense, his tired mind taking it the wrong way for a split second.

“It is fine! They both are!” He snipped. He wasn’t old yet, besides, how would a human know to ask about that! The mysterious lady leaned in closer to him, causing Davien to reflexively back up a bit into his booth, ears pinning back slightly. He bared his teeth in another smile, scooting a bit back into the seat.

“Who are you?” He asked as politely as he could, still a bit frazzled by all the attention. He wrung his hands with slight anxiety.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyric Character Portrait: Jira Character Portrait: Tamara Larison Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun

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The cook was busy in the back with current orders, but he wouldn't mind another. Cyric listened to his sister barrage the poor man with intrusive questions. He smirked at how Davien handled himself with Jira. She could be a handful, but it didn't seem to phase Davien in the slightest. As for Tamara, she was an interesting one as well. He smiled at her in return and refilled her rootbeer without a word. "On the house." It was the least he could do, after his sister pestered the both of them. Cyric delivered the clucker strips to Tamara and put the steaming meal in front of her. The scents wafted through the room and created a welcoming atmosphere.

"Here you go, Miss." Cyric distracted himself with counting inventory and then went back to Tamara. "So, where are you from?" He asked, while he got another patron a whisky. Cyric slid the drink toward the customer and went back to more orders.

The setting changes from the-silver-bluff-landing to Vlyhihr Fields

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Dominic Crane Character Portrait: Votu

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#, as written by Davien
Davien cursed under his breath as he began to bring his fishing line to shore. He didn't even
have a pole, just some string and a hook, no bait. Tying some rocks into the string for weight,
he had been casting out into the nearby river for hours now. It had been at least two days since
he had last ate, and about half as long since he had slept. He was losing patience after hours of
this repitition, cast out, reel in empty. He swung the hook over his head one more time, tucking
his ears down to avoid hooking himself like he did earlier in morning.

Daviens expression was as bored as you could imagine a fox's face being. It had been days since he
had seen a road, much less a soul besides the local wildlife. He sighed, tapping his finger on the
the side of the rock he was currently sitting on. He rolled his eyes towards the heavens, letting out
a huge sigh before...

His fishing line snapped taut, almost being ripped out of his hands. Letting out an involuntary
yelp of excitement Davien jumped to his feet, pulling the string back end over end as he reeled
in his catch. He began to laugh, realizing how heavy the prize on the hook was. His luck was finally
about to change! Fish had always been Daviens favorite, even long before he was on his own.

His smile faded however as the large object on the end of the line came closer to shore. It was
nothing but a large water logged stick, waving back and fourth in the current. Daviens mood once
again soured, cursing yet again under his breath as he reached out to take the stick off of his
line. Davien slipped as his weight adjusted, causing him to fall into the creek with a loud splash.
Cursing for a third time, very much audible for anyone in the area he stood back up, realizing
he had let go of the string in his surprise, and it was now washing down the river into the horizon.

"No, no no!" He yelled out to himself, burying his head in his hands. Things were definately not looking
good now, sopping wet and having to resort to chasing something landbound for dinner. And Davien was not
in the mood to run right now. He kicked at the waters surface, sarcastically talking to the universe itself.

"Thats fine, I grew tired of fishing anyways!" He screeched to his own misfortune.
"At least now there is nothing else you can do to me to make this day worse!" He chided as an afterthought.

Sighing, he bent down once more to gather up his leather satchel, putting it back over his shoulder
after making sure the contents were still secure inside. As he straightened back up, he had the strangest
sensation run up his spine, making all the hairs on his body stand on end as he froze. Looking back, he saw a
gigantic eagle swooping down at him, beak large enough for him to completely fit inside.

He had no time to react, before he could even move his arms he was five feet off the ground, being carried
by a gigantic single talon that miraculously didn't rake him with its claws. He wriggled as hard as he could
but was not breaking free, the talon was too strong. They were now roughly 100 feet in the air, being bombarded
by the wind from the downstroke of the eagles mighty wings.

It was clear that the fall was his only option to pursue, waiting to see if the eagle would kindly let him go
was somehow seeming out of the question. He continued to try and wriggle against the ironclad grip,
finally getting a hand free. He may not be able to reach his dagger but he might have a trick up his sleeve.
Frantically, he began to snap his fingers as he concentrated.

"Come on..." He snapped again, as flurry of sparks flew out from his hand. He laughed with excitement, heart
racing. He had to get it to work... Another snap of his fingers as a large fireball erupted from his hand in a
large, unaimed cone. Luckily most of it was aimed upwards towards the giant raptor. While the blast didnt actually
harm the bird visibly, it did leave a strong scent of burnt feathers and startled the eagle out of
its current flight path. Along with a deafening screech, Davien was released from its grip. He couldn't believe it
actually worked, as he was almost certain he didn't understand how that spell had worked. He would take the success
though.

All these thoughts were short lived however as he then noticed he was a few hundred feet in the air, gaining speed as
the ground sped towards him. Well.. This had worked out like most of his plans, phase one, spectacular. Phase two, plan
it later. That formula didn't seem to work out very well for him this time. He began to scream, purely out of instinct and
realizing there isn't very much that he could do at this point to alter his fate. Perhaps it would at least be quicker than
being baby dire eagle food.

Somehow, showing how lucky an unlucky Mishqua can get at times, he landed atop a thicket of trees,the first impact stopping
his scream.

"AAAAA-" Thunk. "Eeuugg..." A few more grunts and groans could be heard as well as branches snapping.
He came to a stop about halfway up a particular oak tree, suspended by his coat from the branches.
Out ahead of him he could see the backsides of some extremely angry looking centaurs, and a human
and... Kobold? No... It couldn't be. But it was!

Yes, a human and a Kobold out in the distance. It looks like they had warranted the centaurs attendtion, and they seemed to not quite care about the fox that fell out of the sky. At least for now, they must have noticed him the way he was screaming, he thought. Either way, it seemed like no matter how he struggled, he was too tangled in his cloak in the branches
to be of much use to anyone until he was assisted. For now, he might as well wait and see how this
fight would fare...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Dominic Crane Character Portrait: Votu

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#, as written by Davien
Yes, it certainly was one of those days. His feet hadn't even touched the ground and strangers were selling
him out to the local creatures. He was so angry he couldn't even articulate his words, stream of consiousness
coming out in a flurry of barks and growls. He struggled further against his current coccoon of clothing
to no avail, before stopping and re-evaluating his situation.

Finally composing himself to a level of calm that he could speak, he took the oppurtunity.
"How about this Horseman, you let me down and I will secure both of these dollards to get off your land!
I don't even want to be here! I hate company!" He struggled again, only making his current tanglement worse.
"A man that pasty cannot be trusted! In fact, most men cant be anyways! And that Kobold is obviously up to..."
He looked at the lizard. "Well gods, look at him! He's up to SOMETHING!!"

He began to laugh a bit and changed his tone.

"But me, I am a friend of the horseman! I have a friend who is a horseman! His name is Horace!" He lied.

"I would never steal from a horsemans god given right to this land or purposefully trespass here. I swear upon
the likely graves of my family!" He lied again.

He began to pant as the struggle of attempting to get free wore on him. He soon ran out of breath, which might
honestly be the best thing for him at this point, watching the two groups helplessly as they decided his
fate. His expression was still that of extreme grumpiness and resignation to his situation.

"Hmph."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Dominic Crane Character Portrait: Votu

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Things were quickly getting out of control. They had been surrounded by fifteen centaurs and to make matters worse, some random creature had come crashing down into the canopy not too far from them. A quick thinker, Dominic had already begun attempting to negotiate with the ferocious-looking band.

"That isn't going to work. These aren't the kind who are interested in negotiating." he quietly muttered to the ivory-skinned man. At the same time, his eyes never left the group of centaurs who had fired upon him. When the fox creature's gaze met his own, one thing he would notice was Votu's eyes narrowing in frustration when he suggested that he was up to no good. Maybe offering the little cretin to the centaurs was a good idea after all.

"Keep it up, furball. These guys won't be the only thing you'll have to worry about."



----


The faint clip-clop of hooves against the ground interrupted the banter. Several of the centaurs shuffled aside to make way for what was presumably the leader of the group. A male of considerable stature even amongst the others, his humanoid torso was riddled with scars of various shapes and sizes. This, without a doubt, was a testament to a life of battle and bitter conflict. It had apparently been a long one so far, too, because the man's roughly shaven hair had more than a few streaks of gray running through it. He held the hilt of greataxe in his right hand, which created a deep trail in the ground behind him from its sheer weight. It was simple in design, but a cursory examination of the weapon would reveal that it was well-suited for repeated and frequent use.

The Centaur looked the three of them over for a moment before giving a disapproving snort. Then, he spoke in a gruff voice that was akin to gravel grinding against itself, "Most people are smart enough not to wander into these lands. Looks like we're going to have to show you why."

Then, he waved a hand in a gesture toward the other Centaur. "Kill them."

Four centaurs, two on each side of the leader, reared backward and charged toward Dominic and Votu. One of the two that approached Dominic attempted to spear him with its pike. The other circled around to ready for an attack from behind. The same sequence occurred with Votu, who was a bit farther away.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Dominic Crane Character Portrait: Votu

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#, as written by Davien
The sudden flurry of activity made Davien start again. The centaurs began to charge Dominic and his full
attention immediately went back into survival mode. He forced his mind to take a step back as he inhaled
deeply. He began to pick and snap the branches of where his cowl was caught in the tree. Just a few more
places, and...

His weight adjusted as he began to fall once more with a loud rip. He landed upon the ground with the
majority of his cowl staying tangled in the tree. No matter, Davien thought. It was cheap fabric
of a low thread count it would be easy enough to replace. His dagger still remain on his belt, and there
was no other damage to his armor. He scurried to his feet, looking back at the battle now at hand.

He was just in time to catch a glimpse of the dagger retracting from the first centaurs neck. The pasty
man moved with an unnatural speed, seemingly immune to pain as he noticed the cut on the mans leg, yet
he was still putting his full weight on it. The part that seemed the most unnatural to him however was
how he licked the blade after the attack. As the man went running to meet up with the kobold Davien turned
to make his leave. He began to run, still dazed and unsure of where he was, unable to get his bearings
after literally falling out of the sky.

Davien stopped abruptly after a few hundred feet, eyes widening as he patted his side. His satchel was
gone, it must have been tangled up in the tree with his cowl! Damn... Without hesitation he turned around
and began to sprint back to the thickett of trees, hoping that the battle was still going on and everyone
was still preoccupied. He waded his way back into the thick growth of trees, looking up at the remains
of his cowl. Indeed, there it was. Dangling about 8 feet in the air by its strap, cruelly just out of reach
with no nearby steps to aid in jumping and getting it.

Think...

Looking around his immediate area, he located a rather long stick and picked it up with both hands. He
knew time was of the essence but he carefully began to try and fish the satchel out of the tree. Leaving
it was simply not an option at all. It had to be quick too, before either the centaurs or the strange travelling
party could get to him. He may have lied about having a centaur friend, but he told the truth when he said
he didn't prefer company for long.

"Come on, dammit!" He cursed at the branch as he missed the satchel once more. The branch raked across
another in the old oak tree and snapped in half. Gritting his teeth, he angrily began to climb the base
of the tree whose branches it was stuck in. Whether or not he would get there depended on whether he was
spotted or not.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Dominic Crane Character Portrait: Votu

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The centaur unleashed a triumphant, tooth-bearing roar when it saw the jagged end of its pike sink an inch or two into Dominic’s leg. There would be plenty more of those if it had his way. Its joy didn’t last long, however, because it soon noticed that the wound it’d inflicted had begun to heal before his very eyes! The creature grumbled in some unintelligible language as Dominic prepared his own attack. The pale man’s speed was impressive for someone with just two legs, but the same couldn’t be said about his attack. It seemed that the centaur was one step ahead of Dominic. Just as he took a swing at its burly neck, it recoiled just enough to avoid a potentially fatal blow from the man’s dagger. The weapon’s point did manage to scrape its neck, but the centaur’s thick, almost leathery skin prevented it from doing any damage. The second centaur that targeted Dominic took aim with its longbow and loosed two arrows toward him.

Votu easily slipped his head just to the side of a pike when the centaur thrust it toward him. The creature rose high above him on its hind legs and attempted to smash him with its hooves, but they struck nothing but hard ground when he rolled away. The second centaur that set its sights on the kobold monk had better luck with its attack. The foul beast charged full speed and readied its pike for a strike of its own. It had every intention of skewering the little reptilian so it could parade it around for all to see. Just as Votu rose from his successful dodge of the last centaur's attack, this new combatant drove its pike into Votu's shoulder. He growled as the sharp pain tore through his right arm, causing his blood to boil. He was angry, but he welcomed the pain that came from his wound. It would fuel him to repay his enemies with even greater suffering than he had sustained. A steady stream of discolored blood flowed from the open wound as he turned to face his assailant. Then, he attacked. The ferocity with which the little kobold fought was something you'd have to see to believe. He delivered four relentless attacks in rapid succession, each a manifestation of his mastery of unarmed combat. His comparatively diminutive size allowed Votu to slip under the centaur's long equine torso and deliver a well-placed claw attack to its exposed underbelly. Not only did his sharp claws tear through its thick hide, but they delivered a special ingredient produced by his own body: a highly acidic secretion.

If the centaur's lower torso couldn't fend off attacks from his claws, then it certainly couldn't resist the highly corrosive ooze that spread into the wound. Aggressively dissolving any foreign organic matter it touched, this acid aided Votu in disemboweling the poor creature before it could think to retaliate or flee. He practically bathed in gore as its piping hot entrails came crashing down on him. The now dead centaur collapsed to the side soon afterward. Votu locked eyes on the second centaur who'd attacked him first, gritting his teeth as bits of meat dangled from his false horns. Most notably, the wound in his shoulder had vanished somehow.

Votu hunched over as if he were about to vomit, and exhaled a gout of corrosive energy toward it. The centaur instinctually dashed to its right to avoid it, but not without having large portions of its back legs and torso doused in the caustic matter. It screamed in clear agony and retreated approximately 50 feet.

One of the centaurs nearest to Davien noticed him trying to fetch something out of the tree. It quickly nocked an arrow and loosed it in his direction with the hopes of piercing his right side.

As the battle carried on, the centaur leader watched with a twisted expression on his face. One might have expected him to be perturbed by the kobold's actions, by the gruesome execution of one of his men seemed to excite him further. There was no telling how demented this one was.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Dominic Crane Character Portrait: Votu

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#, as written by Davien
Davien had only looked up for a split second after hearing a sickening squelch. Peering back down the
tree, distracted temporarily, he saw Votu bathing in the entrails of one of the beasts. Hm... Maybe he
should have chosen his words a little better... He had forgotten what mean and bloodthirsty little
beings they could be. He continued to climb after a brief respite. Davien was able to crawl all the way
out onto the branch that currently held his prized possession. He inched his way down the branch, tensing
up with every creak and wobble that challenged his faith in the strength of it.

Finally, Davien delicately picked up the strap of the satchel and reeled it up to himself. Now it was time
to run. After seeing the Pasty mans and Kobolds adeptness in combat, it seemed like he could very easily
become a fur coat for the party or perhaps dinner for the centaurs. Sticking around in his mind was simply
not an option with survival in the cards. Wrapping the strap around his torso he hastily began his descent
down the tree.

He had however only gotten a few shimmies down before an acutely sharp pain reverberated from his arm
up into his skull. He yelped involuntarily as his muscles tensed up and he released his grip on the tree.
Fully expecting a fall, he was a little more than surprised when he didn't. Instead, the pain in his arm
intensified tenfold, causing his eyes to fly back open. An arrow, crude in design and fletching had firmly
attatched his arm to the trunk of the oak tree. For anything heavier than him, their body weight probably
would have snapped the arrow.

Scrambling to regain his feet against the trunk and get the weight off of his new wooden limb as fast as
possible, he tried to push through the pain and think. Pushing up his weight with his feet, he began
to attempt to pull the arrow out of the tree himself. His blood however had run down the shaft of the arrow,
making it impossible to grip. He tried his best to break the arrow, but it was stuck in his dominant arm, and through the pain he couldn't muster the strength to break the sturdier-than-it-looked arrow. He was stuck. Really, really stuck.

"Well, you horses ass. At least you aren't bored of fishing anymore." He chastised himself, somehow finding
just the slightest bit of humor in it all. His feet slipped slightly against the moss covered bark, showing
even simply standing against the tree would be a huge physical endeavor in itself, but one more welcome
than the searing pain of dangling.

Here he remain, stuck, face to a tree, bleeding slowly. The very last option would be to rip his arm
directly out from the tree, leaving the shaft of the arrow embedded in the tree and a gaping hole in
his arm. Davien was almost sure that would lead to him bleeding out however, especially this far out
in the woods where the only local creatures and folks he had met tried to eat him, kill him, or barter him.


"If I survive..." He thought. "I'm never coming to this fecking forest again."

He didn't know who was aware of him still being in the tree or not, but attempted to remain quiet as a churchmouse,
silently adjusting his weight and trying to remain unseen until the battle was over. Occasionally he would
attempt to strain his neck and catch small glimpses of what was happening.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Dominic Crane Character Portrait: Votu

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#, as written by Davien
Between the pain and blood loss and his current lack of sleep, Davien could quite tell if what he was seeing was real
or simply a hallucination, which he had been prone to before. His eyes dialated in suspicion even as he stay stuck
to the tree. Something about this man seemed all too real to him however. He turned back to the tree, looking at the
arrow portruding out of his arm. He gritted his teeth and looked back to the man, his footing slipping slightly
against the tree as he regained his stance. "And.... What would those be?" He said in a pained and tired voice. Hell,
he didn't care actually. He just wanted down, and he could simply elope after the party had gone to sleep, maybe even
a little richer than before.

"On second thought yes..." He stated, the pain beginning to become too much as his vision began to swirl, a small puddle
of blood forming at his feet. Looking back he saw the fire in doms eyes, or maybe it was the cold, soulless vaccuum, but
whatever it was made him second guess his second guess. Perhaps trusting this man would be a mistake...But Davien
had gotten himself out of trouble before, and he was almost certain he could again, no matter what this man was. He
slipped again, falling completely down and hanging by his injured arm once more. The pain forced him to agree as he
scrambled to get the weight off of his arm.

"Gods above yes! Fine! Just let me down! I'll pay you or whatever your terms are!" He was in danger of passing out at this point, vision getting blurrier and darker. If he lost consciousness, he died.

Davien didn't seem to grasp how dire those terms may be at present, but it was here that his desicion was made to agree to the terms.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Dominic Crane Character Portrait: Votu

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Dominic listened to the fox-man and nodded solemnly. He had just made a contract with a vampire. A sense of electricity would burst through the individuals and dissolve into nothingness. It was as though it had never happened. Yet, with the uncanny smile on Dominic's face, it had indeed transpired. His agility was something to be admired by mere mortals and even by those blessed with athleticism. He prepared himself for a jump and leaped to a nearby branch, his feet firmly planted and his body still. While the tree might sway and move about from the wind, or Davien's disturbance, he remained unmoved. For a moment, he studied Davien as a predator would a wounded prey.

He kneeled on the branch and allowed himself to take in the scent of blood. Dominic took his slender index finger and swiped the blood that dribbled on the branch, then brought it to his eager tongue.

It was delicious, but not as sweet as he had hoped. Dominic studied Davien's position again and was unable to share empathy for the pain he was about to endure. He treated Davien like a piece of equipment stuck and not a being in pain. The horrific pain that Davien would feel in the next few minutes, would prove what kind of being Dominic was on the inside: heartless.

Dominic existed for contracts and adventures, but even they bored an old vampire like himself. However, this creature proved to be an interesting development. He tugged at Davien with a harsh gesture and felt the flesh snag free from its position. Dominic knew that mortals tended to faint under pressure, so he held Davien like a heavy sack and leapt down with the grace of a performer.

His motion unnatural, Dominic realized he was still holding the creature and kept himself from drinking Davien's blood dry. With the type of injury he endured, it would be useless to include him in the battle. Dominic didn't know what to say to him, so he stood near with an awkward presence. He didn't free him out of the goodness of his heart, but out of the mere fact they had agreed to a contract. For all Davien knew, Dominic would have felt no remorse in letting him rot in the tree. Few knew Dominic on a personal level, but this was just how he operated with his thinking and very being.

Others would see him as a cruel entity, but when you lived as long as he did, you thrived. Dominic looked at Davien and took in the scent of the blood, then shuddered. His instincts were coming to surface, but they still had to deal with some brutes.

"As payment for freeing you, you will give me some of your blood." Dominic paused, his eyes glowed with an all-knowingness. "I can heal your injuries, but that would put you further in debt. Unless that fact doesn't bother you. We could use another to fight on the field with us." He said, his tone without a hint of invested emotion. This individual proved to be interesting, but he would have to join his comrade soon.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Dominic Crane Character Portrait: Votu

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#, as written by Davien
All of Daviens hair stood on end as he felt the contract ratify itself. The electric sensation lingered
longer around his open wound. Immediately after watching Dominic hop up to his level with unnatural speed
and ease. His eyes widened as he looked back at Dominic, watching him sample the blood.
"What... Are you?" He mumbled mainly to himself, trying to comprehend what kind of creature he had just
bargained with.

Before he could begin to try to answer the question his eyes were sealed shut with pain, a silent scream
coming out of his mouth as he was ripped from the tree, vision once again fading to black as searing pain
eminate from his arm. There was a sensation of moving, and his eyes opened a short while later, vision
blurry. His head rolled back and fourth, as he was clearly in shock. He may not have been in the right
mind to agree to anything, but the throbbing pain from his recently open wound was a good decision
pusher for him. He heard the words Payment, you, give, and blood the clearest, as he tried, but failed
focus his vision.
He nodded, stating "Fine...Yes..."
Head still rolling back and fourth. He then heard him continue, in a voice that sounded like it was coming from the opposite end of a tunnel. Once again some words rang clearer than others. Heal, injuries, debt. Even in his incapacitated state the last word
made him wary, but he again agreed, trying to roll his whole body over, arm beginning to throb once more.

"Fine! Please!"

It didn't matter how indebted he was, to be free of this pain and leave with his life
was worth more to him than ever now. He focused his blurred vision as best he could on the black blob
in front of him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Davien Kietrasun Character Portrait: Echo "Rokket" Rhorer

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#, as written by Sepokku
Rokket frolicked in the fields of wildflowers painted red as the surviving centaurs galloped away from her and their dead companions. After seeing her eat the hearts of those she killed, the Centaurs decided that sometimes it was better to cut your losses and run. The Spear of Lugh sat in the severed upper torso of one of the corpses, and as the sidhe girl got further and further away, it simply winked out of existence and reappeared beside her in the form of a small teddy bear, which she promptly grabbed out of the air on her way over to the injured Mishqua.

The creature was whimpering and wounded, about on the verge of passing out. Rokket's eyes narrowed while she debated eating him. "What do you think Lugh?" She asked the teddy bear, before throwing it to the ground next to Davien. "What? I wasn't going to eat him! Just a taste, obviously. It's no fun to kill something that's half-dead.." She knelt over the wounded creature as it murmured in pain. The grass swayed slightly, the fox's fur replying in kind, where it could. As some of the fur was too badly soaked with blood, and just lay pasted upon its skin making the small creature look even smaller.

Hmmm... tasty, and not too much iron. The petite finger rolled on her tongue as Rokket tasted the stranger's life force. The ephemeral taste was gone all too soon and she found herself sticking a finger in Davien's arrow wound. The taste was near intoxicating to the Otherworlder, however the creature protested the sudden pain and fainted. "Hey now, don't die on me." After trying to wake up the creature with a few slaps to the face she remembered not everyone can use magic like she can, and with a snap of her finger, realization hit her. "Poor little thing's all tuckered out!"

Being a kind-hearted fairy and wanting to help the little thing, and not at all because she was terrified of never tasting that particular blood again, she decided upon healing it's wound. The Sidhe had never bothered to find out why healing started to to cause pain, in truth she kind of liked the hellish lances of white hot terror it sent up and down her spine; and the screams of anguish it elicits from the average mortal. When she lived in Otherworld she could heal like normal, even for many moons after leaving. Perhaps I'm just not the same little girl that had never left Otherworld. Regardless the shock was enough to bring Davien too, and the way he howled was very amusing to the Pixie. Not even halfway through the short process, the Mishqua fell back into the graceful embrace of unconsciousness.

Satisfied, the Pixie admired her handiwork. She had overdone it a bit, wounding and healing parts of the fox that hadn't needed attending for the sole purpose of satisfying her sadism. "Lugh, darling. Get him for me?" Without waiting for an answer she began to skip away, leaving the blood-spilled field and the corpses behind. The teddy bear exploded in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a much larger version of itself. The teddy bear bent and picked up Davien, cradling the creature like a small cat as it ran after it's Mistress.