Ceres Landros's Story

" To no man will we sell, or deny, or delay, right or justice."

The night smelled of death and rum. The morning smelled no different, at least not to the fiery bard as she walked along paved paths through the Southern Guild Ward. Ceres inhaled sharply, taking in all the swirling scents around her and immediately scrunching her nose in distaste. "Revolting.."she murmured under her breath. Hunger and disgust coiled inside of her stomach, her craving for food slowly ebbing away by the tide of smells that passed around her." OI! Fire head!" . Hunger left her thoughts as the booming voice reached her ears. she spun around so fast her cloak nearly caught onto a passing wagon traveling down the paths. A plump stocky man stood at least ten feet away from Ceres, sweat dribbling down from his brow onto his chest. He wore a blacksmiths apron, something that seemed a little odd on this side of towns.

When the man began waving at her, she took it upon herself to walk towards him even though she knew the exercise would do the fellow some good. "I'm guessing you have a good reason to be shouting at me at this time of day." She answered in the darkness, stepping closer to him until he was in stabbing range.

" I do. Ye have no need to be worrying none about me now lass. I'm working for the same lot you are."

She raised a brow. "Obviously. If you weren't , you wouldn't be in this part of town. You'd be up some Achaz's ass in the Western Guild." She paused for a moment when she saw the flicker of fear pass over the mans face, as evident as a child face when they've been caught doing something wrong.

"If....you were part the Achaz and were spending time around here, I can imagine many of my companions would be happy to show you around. Maybe even demonstrate what it looks like for a man to be flayed and flogged." It was cruel of her to frighten the man, knowing very well he wasn't any enemy of hers. She couldn't help it though! Especially when she hadn't been doing much of late, other than singing and playing in taverns to earn any extra coins she could.

The man began sweating profusely, causing a small smile to slowly slide onto her face. " Calm yourself, I'm only kidding . You humans are horrible with taking jokes." The portly blacksmith blinked and shook his head, a nervous chuckle emitting from him. "O-of course miss. Anyways, I only wanted to say the weapons one of your mates ordered was ready. I've got the shipment at my shop whenever you want to send some men over to grab em." He gave her a small nod and moved his head as if asking if he had leave to remove himself from her presence. A swift nod in his direction and the fat man was off as fast as his legs could carry him. She would probably be scolded for frightening him, not that she cared too much about it. She was always getting scolded , be it by those who were above her or the remnants of family she till had.

The thought of family made her shudder, a violent one that passed all throughout her body. Elves were known for their long memory, and their even longer grudges. Most of her family had disowned her the minute they realized her involvement with Seithur's Hand. " Disgraceful child" they called her, even though she was no child by the time she had joined the Guild. Another jab at her by her elder kin. She had been thrown out of the house she had called home for sixteen years the minute the news reached them. Thankfully, the Guild gave her shelter and the food and clothing she would now require. After she had made a name for herself a few years later, her family came back out of the wood work and slowly requests from them became a common occurrence. It was like that with most families though. Once one person becomes successfully, the hounds descend and began begging for a bone.

She hated dogs, so no bones were ever given and now family rarely contacted her unless one of them died or went missing.

"Avo acheno." A soft whisper escaped her chapped lips and brought comfort to her . The elven tongue always soothed her whenever her thoughts turned to troubling matters. Now..if only an elven curse could bring some peace to the Guilds.

If only.

The Bazaar was full of fools speaking in whispers, merchants yelling in booming voices to buy and try their wares, and whores lifting skirts in attempts to attract men.She could see the pink tongues of their mouths slithering, and the honey lies dripping from their lips. It was truly the best place to make a deal, kill a fool, and buy a new coat all before the sun went down and the more unsavory of folks crept out of the woodwork.

She maneuvered through the stalls, occasionally bumping into someone but dispersing before any words could be exchanged and fake apologies made. Coins jangled in her pockets, something most thieves could hear even over the noise of the Bazaar. She suspected however, that the small knife at her side would be more than enough for any thief to see and think twice before reaching a hand into any of her pockets.Or at least she assumed it would until she felt a tiny hand brush against her thigh and a child with greasy black hair run past her. One minute her pockets were heavy with gold, and the next as light after taxes.

"Oh hells, COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE BASTARD!" Her voice rang, as shrill and loud as she could make it. A few men moved away from her, and a few she pushed out of the way as she followed the tiny black head through the crowd. She ran, each step longer and faster to the next but never quite as fast as the boys. Her leather boots hit the ground and her arms swung side by side. Anyone could have assumed an elf would be able to catch a small human boy, but she was a bard. She rarely ran unless someone was chasing her , and that had been nearly months ago. She suddenly spotted the little urchin climbing one of the few tree's that grew in the Bazaar. His tiny body moved rather quickly, reminding her of the alley cats she once chased as a child around town.

He had trapped himself, much to Ceres delight. The boy sat down on one of the limbs, holding the bards wallet in his dirty hand . He held it tight to his chest and looked down, glaring at her with fierce green eyes that made it look as if she was stealing from him.. "You best throw that down now boy, before you get yourself hurt." She was horrible with children, but she made her voice as soothing as her mothers hoping the little wretch would comply. "Finders keepers knife ears!"

Her mouth dropped. "You little shit! Here I was hoping we'd be able to settle this peacefully and you go and use that sort of language." Elven slurs hadn't been used on her since she started carrying a bow and knife around. This was proof that children had little to no common sense. The boy scrunched his nose and stuck out his tiny pink tongue. "I'm up here and you're down there." He blurted out, in a sing-song voice that children used when they wanted to be incredibly annoying. She clicked her tongue. "Either you throw me down that bag, or I swear I'll put an arrow through you boy." Her voice lost it's soothing tone to be replaced with her usual bite. Surprise quickly flashed over the boys smug face for a moment, before his smirk returned.[i] "You won't do nuthin." He crowed, smiling down at her with yellow teeth and ragged clothes. She had never hurt a child, but this one was making her bow hand twitch for a shot. She hadn't noticed, but a bit of a crowd had begun to gather around her and she now knew why the boy said she wouldn't shoot him.

Witnesses.


She sighed a long hard sigh and moved towards the tree, pressing a palm to the bark. She could hear the sounds of voices behind her, both man and women speaking about her and the creature above her. "You think she'll kill him?" A raspy womanly voice asked from behind her, to which made several people inhale sharply. I'm not a monster...I was only going to scare him. She thought bitterly, willing herself not to look back for fear she'd end up attracting an even bigger crowd by hitting one of the passerby's.

A realization hit her that she would probably be late to her appointment as well after all this. Madame Tre'vani would scold her and she'd probably lose a cut of the gold she was promised.

Hells she hated children.

Drake Sigurdsol

Drake and his men strode confidently down the alleyways until they reached the Ruby Ward. As far as the wards went, this one was the nicest outside of the Palace Ward. The establishments here, while certainly not of the reputable sort, were often grades above those of the lower wards. Indeed, there were a number of fine brothels and taverns to be found throughout the ward. Even the air seemed nicer in this ward, not as tainted by the filth and poverty of those in the lower class wards. This ward at least established a pretense of finery and civility, even if pretense was all that it was.

The sun shining down upon them went unnoticed, accustomed as they were to the far harsher beatings affected upon those at sea by the sun, ocean, and all the other elements whose powers were amplified upon the open seas. While they were moving through the ward, one of the mates mentioned that he had put a special order in with one of the local merchants for absinthe, a rarity even in the city of thieves and vice. Drake clapped the man on the back, causing him to stumble forward as he laughed, "Well why didn't you say so in the first place? Not trying to hold out on your captain are you?" Laughing, the men moved off towards the bazaar to pick up this rare and potent alcohol. They stopped only when a voice called out from one of the brothels.

"Captain Sigurdsol, Why don't you choose the world renowned Carmine Maid for your time on land?" The quartet of pirates stopped and looked at the male prostitute standing in the doorway of the brothel. Still in a good mood from the mention of absinthe, Drake laughed aloud. "You have a right mighty pair of stones boy to be addressing the Lord of Pirates yourself." After a moments thought he continued, "Well I reckon we could do wit a good brothel, but we have important business to attend to first. We will be back in a short while." And with that the pirates went off to attend to the important business of procuring alcohol.

When the pirates entered the bazaar, it was already filled with a pack of customers, merchants, thieves, and others. Some people tried to make room for the pirates to pass, but that wasn't always possible given the crowded conditions. In those instances, Drake roughly pushed aside the sea of city-dwellers, making room for them to pass through unhindered. It took some time, but they finally reached the shop where the crewman had requested the absinthe. One of the crewmen spoke briefly with the merchant who then ducked under his stand for a moment. When he stood back up, he had a large, ornate glass container filled with green liquid. He placed it in a box with a felt indentation, specifically fit for the bottle. It cost quite a pretty penny. As the crewman was paying for it, Drake took some gold from his own purse and chipped in. The merchant raised his eyebrow at this, the captain was known for many things, though generosity when it came to gold was not one of them. Still, the merchant accepted the gold unquestioningly, and the transaction was thus completed. The men turned and left.

Making their way back through the crowd, the crewman who knew the merchant holding the absinthe box, they witnessed the spectacle of the elf-bard chasing a small purse snatch through the crowd. It was truly a humorous sight to behold. Drake observed the quick, agile movements of the child, he would make a fine pirate with the agility he had. Then the child climbed a tree, effectively trapping himself. Looking on impassively, Drake listened to the ensuing confrontation between the female elf and the street urchin. A crowd formed, but it seemed their presence was keeping the elf from taking further action against the little thief. He frowned, it seemed the elf was on the verge of giving up, to an insulting whelp no less. And the crowd just stood by doing nothing. That sent the wrong sort of message, he thought to himself. If petty thieves were just allowed to run amok in broad daylight with no one lifting so much as a finger to stop them...nay, the crowd was actually helping the little brat get away with their seeming judgement of the elf. If such things were just allowed to occur unchecked, well, even cities like this one needed some sort of rules. "Time to send a message." Drake said, mostly to himself. "Open thievery will not go unpunished." The child was still jeering at and mocking the elf lass when Drake removed his hand crossbow from its holster, pointed it at him, and pulled the trigger. The small twang went unheard by the crowd, the bolt unnoticed, at least until it buried itself in the boy's chest. It was then that the crowd fell into a shocked silence. The boy looked down at the bolt in surprise before he fell over, and landed on a lower branch, blood dripping down onto the cobblestones below.

However, the silence lasted only a moment, then an uproar began to swell, outraged that someone could shoot a child, even one that had committed theft right in front of them. The crowed turned about, looking for the one who had committed such a deed, and fell silent again when they saw the Sea Monster himself holding his larger-than-normal hand crossbow. The quartet of pirates moved forward without a word, the crowd parting before them, fear and awe apparent, but mostly fear. The boy was slumped in the tree, blood continuing to fall to the earth. Using his height, Drake reached up and plucked the child unceremoniously from the lower limb. Holding the boy with one hand, he pulled his bolt from the body, before letting it drop to the ground as carelessly as one might discard a piece of refuse. He reloaded the bolt into the crossbow and placed the Drake-sized hand crossbow back in it's holster.

The pouch of coins was sitting in the pool of blood expanding out from under the body. Drake picked up the pouch, opened it, and plucked out four gold coins. He looked at the elf girl, for she was certainly not out of her twenties and said, "For services rendered." Then he closed the pouch and holding it by the top extended it towards the elf, it was hers after all. Blood dripped from the bottom of the bag onto the street. He waited stoically for her to take the pouch.

T H E I N K E D R O G U E



♦♦♦♦♦♦

Ice eyes flickered in their sockets and swept over the doe, drinking in all her forget-me-nots and allure from behind. His peer was lewd beneath the cowl of his hood. The woman's flesh was like cream, spiced with dribbles of honey and vanilla, and her tresses were like wheat. The harshness of the streets was evident on her person; stained into her clothes and smeared across her skin, yet to him, she was still an utter charm. It was not the shell that enticed him, it was the sense of piety and purity that drenched her. He continued to observe, watching the way her hips swayed beneath her garbs - triggering his mouth and loins to ache. Abel's stalk was prudent and in no means obscure, yet she seemed entirely oblivious to his existence. No, not that. Like she felt him, but could not see him. His gait was quick and strides nimble; avoiding the clusters of bodies that hindered his trail. In time, he began to notice a peculiar fault in her steps. Even at her rear, he began to realize that her movements were triggered by sound and not by sight. Before long, however, even that primary perception betrayed her. The woman grew awkward and graceless at first, then entirely disorientated. This perplexed him further.

She had almost breached the Tavern District before she stalled, tried to grasp her bearings, then subsequently turned around and paced back the way she came. When her body swiveled and stumbled past him, his gaze briefly seized a picture of her visage. Her face was angelic and perfectly sculpted, yet the gems embedded in her sockets were hollow empty, void of life and sight. Of course, she was blind. How a beautiful woman - who appeared to have no extraordinary talents - managed to live in Daggerford was an absolute wonder to him. By having observed her, he also discerned that there was no tone to her muscle, therefore she wasn't a fighter. He had known blind warriors in his day, and she was not one. There was something else, though, something he had allowed to slip past his keen nose: medicine. Her skin gave off the unmistakable scent of herbs. An alchemist, then? She wasn't a member of any of the guilds, therefore even if he had heard of her, her existence prior would have meant nothing to him. This was interesting, -very- interesting. An insidious grin stretched long across his lips and he sneered in delight. He continued to trail and watch her from a distance, glancing at a boy that later rushed to her aid. A frown marred Abel's brow; she had a child as well? It was rare for children, let alone individuals with handicaps, to survive long in the city. It was during this very thought that a large disturbance not far off snared his attention.

A street urchin had attempted to steal a bard's coin-purse, only to have a cross-bolt puncture his gullet by none other than Drake Sigurdsol. Abel knew of him, there were few who didn't, and the Pirate Lord's guild had been occasionally affiliated with the Achaz. The bazaars were in no-means a secure place, but it was generally out of 'etiquette' that battles and conflicts were kept to a respective minimum. This was an 'informal' policy that Rakkath often liked to enforce: he did not like the distribution and trade of goods badgered. Of course, their enemies and many others didn't have mush regard for it. A sigh slipped through Abel's lips and his brain seethed. He would have to deal with this, to his dismay. The apothecary would have to wait - but he was surely going find her again. She was being guided into her shop when his eyes adverted back to her. He knew her place of residence now. Abel's grin broadened, then he vanished into the fray.

♦♦♦♦♦♦

The crowd was surprisingly quite infuriated when the boy was slain. Abel reckoned the common-folk grew tired of the perpetual acts of murdered that only seemed to be increasing these days. Still, one would think they'd be use to it by now. Evidently not. The man was irritated and vexed by the whole thing. He made his way towards the pirates with less grace in his steps, and he practical began -tossing- people out of his way by the time he breached the edge of the crowd. A few peasants fell over and scrambled to get out of his way when he broke through the throng. "Alright," he started, grasping the brim of his hood, allowing it to fall rearward against his nape, "...everyone shut the hell up." He felt shudders course through many, followed by several alarmed gasps and whispers. 'The Achaz...' from some, 'shhhh' by others. The crowd instantly grew quiet and many dispersed when he made himself apparent. Two elites from any guild entering a confrontation was clue enough to 'get the fuck out.' So they did. Abel's visage could not be mistaken, his stark black-hair, brilliant ice eyes, and vivid facial scar, distinguished him well. Drake, however, was even more so. "The Sea Monster," the rogue's lips peeled back and he flashed him a toothy smile, "how good it is to see you again." Whether or not it was a jest...was irrelevant.

-fin.

Annon sat peacefully in the bazaar for quite some time until his interest was piqued by a small crowed that had gathered under a tree. Instrument in hand he stood up and placed his lockbox upon his back. Plucking the strings as he walked along he managed to cut a way through the crowed in time to see a rough looking sea farer shoot a child perched in a tree like a common crow. He raises an eyebrow as the crowd murmurs incoherently. He sighs taking a drag from his pipe, this was probably going to hurt sales for the entire bazaar at least for a short time. Glancing at the man who took the shot he plucked at his guitar idly walking off to the side and taking another seat. He was a performer of some sort after all and without attempting to jest he started to pluck away at an old song he had heard on his journey to this country. The sailors that taught it to him were a rough lot but he found the song humorous “ Come friends, pass the bottle around. For our time is short remember, For soon the grog will stop and our spirits will drop as we sail away in September. But tonight we will be merry and tonight we will remember, yet when the sun rises we will sadly be sober” His song was light in the air as he packs his pipe full the aroma drifting under the tree, he found it odd not a person even bothered to bury the boy, yet being an outsider he remained silent. Once the crowd dispersed he realized it was a common occurrence.


As he glances at the group under the tree, an apparent pirate with crew in tote, an elf, and a human he was curious as to what would unveil he had moved himself in earshot but was far from eavesdropping only listening to what was said loud enough for passer bys to hear. It had been a couple of hours though and he was starting to become tired of the looming sun and was curious as to where the best places in town to acquire that certain company could be found, and something strong to drink to go with it. His pipe was practically red hot to the touch with the cherry that had burned inside for the last two hours, if anyone knew what the divine was around here they could tell his clothing was permeated with the scent. He smirked to himself though pulling his hood up shielding his head from the sun, he had made more coin today from people thinking he was a begging musician all he had done today was give out free samples he was going to have to find a better market to sell in. Perhaps a local bar, in his home town that’s where he made his first fortune selling it but he had sunk a good half of his money into procuring more and the trip to this place.

Dominic Diamondheart

For a brief moment Johnathan had thought he was going to get a crossbow bolt lounged between his eyes. He knew that in most instants that the Sea Monster wouldn't murder a man for speaking to him. The moment he had turned around through, he seemed as intimidating and massive as the leviathan he was named after. His words had somewhat grounded him back to reality as he had offered a seemingly calm smirk and a nod of his head. "The lovely fragrances of the Carmine Maid will be eagerly awaiting your legendary company." he prose as the four departed again.

Johnathan was surprised how good of a promoter he was at time, the rare patronage of a powerful warlord for the evening for the Madame and the Carmine for a brief exchange of words. Then again, when finding words to say Johnathan always had a particular talent in that aspect: even as a lying good for nothing whelp. With a smirking grin, the handsome well toned man returned back into the confines of the rich exotic brothel. A few approached the single prostitute, some neutral and others irritated.

"You didn't piss off the bastards with those smug words of yours did you!?" One in the group accused almost appearing as though she was about to strike him for losing such fine business. Johnathan's dwarven friend was quite quick to come to her co-worker's aid. "If the Sea Monster was disgusted by the offer there would be one less whore in the Ruby Quarter." She asserted.

Though it did silence the critics, Johnathan was not so terribly assured with those amoral wording. "The Sea Monster has business in the day, he told me he will be dropping by the evening." He proposed which gave enough certainty to dispel the group away. Johnathan took another breath as he looked a rather fat hairy man wearing too much jewelry with teeth made of gold that was pacing out with a friend armed thugs. It was none other than Hassir the Flesh Peddler, a slaver that bought exotic people of the wild untamed lands and sold exclusively to brothels. If he was here, it had meant he was seeking business.

"You! Whore!" he somewhat bellowed. Hassir had never bothered to learn any name he did not deem important, it was strange of all the seasons he had been in the city he was always referred simply as 'whore' to this man. Holding in his true disposition he turned to the man with a neutral face bowing his head as he spoke "Master Hassir, How may I-" Was all he could say before the impatient man spoke again "I have no time for formalities! Where is your mistress!? I have business to attend with her. Very rich business that need not wait!"

He paused for a moment before he idly spoke "She is at the Bazzar during this hour." Johnathan had answered in return "Good! Good! Than that is where I go next!" With that had said the immensely wealthy man paced away with his guards in tow. Rumors had circulated that Hassir had privately funded a war in the wild lands beyond the seas for an aggressive chiefdom to expand its statehood. This had resulted in Hassir having first pick of the thousands of war captives in the aftermath of this war, some have said the fleet of ships that were said to arrive would be rich in 'black gold'. To Johnathan though, it may mean having new blood in the Carmine for Hassir always had a habit of saving his absolute best pick for the Madame.

For now Johnathan would wait, the red haired client would arrive sooner than later and it was his personal responsibility to greet and escort her through the Maid with her list of potential new clients.

---

The Docks

Prince Constantine IV

The morning was still and the skies a murky grey, fog had begun to roll along the piers obscuring the fleet of ships that crowded the free port of Daggerford. Nathan Bounty had been a smuggler and a very successful smuggler at that. His days in piracy and contraband from slave to foreign silk had given the man a rather comfortable retirement in the Palace Ward. As a sign of sentimental value he had kept his old vessel: The Sapphire of the Ocean seaworthy in port managed and maintained by a few paid crew members to clean and manage her a small gang of toughs to discourage vandalism and theft.

Nathan was now an elder man, a bald wrinkled head with a well trimmed white beard. He was deeply tanned and still a very active looking man due to his many adventurers on the high seas and dressed in rather rich clothes as a sign of his own status in the Merchant Guild which he served somewhat as a adviser to for a good pension. Dulled brown eyes examined the vessel again as a voice spoke out to him. "Its rather a marvelous vessel old friend, it sometimes makes me wonder our place in this new generation."

His eyes turned to Merrivian Veldonnas. Veldonnas had been an actor once, though when the more respectable seeking pashas had noticed how eloquent he was with words they began to hire him to write speeches and pamphlets of all kinds. Within the city where literacy was rare, Veldonnas quickly became the most popular playwright and author within Daggerford, supply the ample masses with witty comedy, beautiful drama and to some extend tragedy that was not booed off the stage by the groundlings.

The equally old man seemed to age somewhat more gracefully, appearing a smooth, handsome man of his late forties more than the elderly pirate before him. Dressed in equally rich flowing robes he was accompanied by a single slave bodyguard, a loyal mercenary that held no tongue from the Wild Lands. Merrivian spoke a foreign dialect and the man departed from earshot for now as he joined his old friend's side to speak in private.

"We'll out live the little bastards yet." Bounty had boasted rather firmly prompting his friend to somewhat chuckle.

"Still as jovial as ever I see." The other old man commented as the two actually made their way up the walk way of the ship.

As the two arrived on top deck, they behold an image they had not been expecting: Prince Constantine awaiting for them. "Gentlemen." The masked prince hailed the other two men. Both were in slight fright, and this was what Hugo desired if for a brief moment the brief and sudden realization that he could be anywhere at any moment. The loyal and secretive monarchists returned their attention to Hugo both bowing their heads respectively as they spoke "Your Highness." In their graces.

Hugo had liked these men, they were experienced and competent something he found lacking with the boot lickers and flatterers of merchants that made the bulk of the movement here in the city. He did tried to seek other counsel now and then to give the illusion that he held them dear and appreciated their support but he would not be a vain and rash ruler but a prudent one and remained grounded in wise counsel.

"Forgive my intrusion on your weekly conversations of philosophy and science, but I knew this was the only time I could seek word with you." The spies the Prince had been able to install had told him through contacts that The Rakkath had vanished from affairs and that his Blood Hound was distracted with an assassination attempt on his life to manage the guild personally in his master's absence. The infrastructure of the Achaz was awe inspiring and perhaps too good for Rakkath's other lieutenants to truly manage on their own accords. It had left cracks in the system, which have given the Prince ample enough time to slip this small meeting in and then vanish out before anyone above could suspect a thing.

"Let us take this conversation inside the captains quarters." He requested and with that statement the two men followed him inward to speak.

Gods be good that tiny urchin had created a shitstorm.

She had watched as the crossbow strings released and the tiny boy collapsed and landed on one of the lower branches of the tree. Startled, she had glanced around and proceeded to show the crowd her empty hands when angry and shocked eyes immediately turned towards her. A man stepped towards the boy, procuring her purse from the pool of blood that surrounded him. Four coins he took from her bag, and the rest he turned to hand towards Ceres. Her words were caught in her throat for a moment, struggling to break free from her throat. His long white hair and coal black eyes sent a sting throughout her whole body. Not to mention the way he shot the boy without batting a single lash. Only one pirate lord in the city had the same appearance she was now viewing herself for the first time.

" Gratitude Captain. I....thank you kindly for the, " She licked her drying lips before continuing. "Assistance." Her hand moved forward as if on it's own and her fingers clenched around the bloodstained bag. He wore no gloves unlike herself, but she imagined that his skin would be cold. As cold as the sea itself she wagered. She could hardly count the callused on his hands, but shook her head when she realized she was staring at his hands.

"Alright, everyone shut up."

The voice spoke over the tittering and whispers of the crowd, the voice of an alpha male that cared little of the thoughts and words of common men. It was a voice she knew without even having to take a glance at the men. "The Sea Monster, how good it is to see you again.". Her hand and the pouch of coins darted back away from the Captain and her fingers found the edge of her cloak. She quickly drew the hood around her pale face, and held it tight beneath her chin. A simple thief had gone and ruined her entire day when all he had to do was simply ask her for a coin or two. Pitiful.

With the crowd gone, clearly taking a hint at the voice of The Blood Hound; one of The Achaz deadliest killers to leave, Ceres knew her odds for escape were slim to none. She'd have to pray that the man didn't notice her, though there was a good chance he wouldn't. She was just a bard after all. With her face now hidden and her lute on her back she didn't seem at all different besides most of the folks in town. Her elven heritage and red hair were the only oddities about her, and she doubted any of the man here cared much about either of those things.

Turning her head to one of the many sun dials around the Bazaar, she clicked her tongue in annoyance. An hour later than the time she needed to be at The Carmine Maid. Not only was the Madame expecting her, but now she had to wait and see what would happen between her "savior" and the man her guild ached to destroy.

"Lovely." She murmured, placing her pouch into her breast pocket for safe keeping. Now she would wait, and see if the Gods would finally find a shred of mercy for her on this cloudy day.

"Fucking move bitch! " A man howled, pushing his shoulder past Lunora's and running forward, away from the group of common folk surrounding a tree in the Bazaar. Normally she would have taken the knife under her skirts and held it against the whelps throat, asking for him to repeat the words his cracked chapped lips had uttered, but with the fray the market was in; she let the fool pass. It was unusual to see people closing down a few of their stalls and packing their things early to go home so early in the day, but they were. Men, women, and even children were all frantically moving about, trying to distance themselves from three individuals who appeared to be speaking around a large oak tree.

The Madame was a curious creature, and curious creature often did things sane ones did not.

Exactly the reason she moved forward, walking towards where the three were conversing amongst themselves. Her tiny feet made little to no noise as she ambled over to where the men were. Her eyes darted between the white haired man and the black haired, a contrast between them greater than even she knew. "White and black...how apropos " She blurted out, making her presence known whether the three cared or not. Within seconds however, she heard a "squishing" sound as her foot lifted in order to turn herself around.A thick crimson liquid coated the bottom of her foot and all around her. She followed the stream of blood to the body of an urchin boy, laying with his head to the side and eyes wide open by the bottom of the oak tree.

"Such a waste...." Lunora whispered, bending down to close the lads eyes with her slim fingers. His skin was coated with dirt, fingernails practically chewed off, and his hair looked as if it hadn't had a proper washing in months. It was sad, but there was never any time to mourn in Daggerford. She picked herself up and dusted off her skirts, eyeballing the small droplets of blood that had found their way onto her clothes. The servants would have a hell of a time getting the stains out of her clothes before the evening came.

Turning to the three, she casually placed a hand on her hip and took a good hard look at each of them. The Pirate Lord was the easiest to spot, with his long white hair that practically begged for a good brushing and braiding. Her palms tingled at the thought, and a grin began to spread. The Blood Hound was also another easy individual to spot. He too had long hair, but it was jet black, just like the so called heart he possessed. If he had on at all that is. It was the last individual she had trouble placing. Cloaked and hooded, it was difficult to spot the persons face. Her eyes slowly moved up and down her body until she spotted the two lumps that squished against the individuals body. Breasts.

She finally caught a small piece of red hair peeking out from the hood, causing her to let out a hearty chuckle with relief.

"Ceres dear, how did you get caught up in this nonsense? Shouldn't you be at the Carmine by now?" Her voice was filled with nothing but motherly affection. She was fond of the red-haired bard, and often paid for her services whenever the girl decided to play at the Maid. Mostly, she was surprised that a member of Sethur's Hand and the Achaz were around each other no one had pulled a weapon out yet.

Smiling gently still, she waited for an answer from the girl all the while keeping her eyes on her and the two men.