The giant listened still to the man, who had introduced himself as Adrian. He still continued to confuse the giant, the way he stood up for the large one. And how he continued to speak politely to the behemoth in turn. "Surely he has a name, Surely?!"" The giant heard him say, patting his chest. "I feel for you my friend, surrounded by ignoramuses as you are."

The giant kept the most of his focus on the curious man, but his keepers started to pull the behemoth away and his attention waned. "Any name will do." He said as the giant began to turn away from the other man to follow his tugging jailers.

"Hell, how about Randy?"

Mid turn, the giant stopped.

The keepers, stopped, nearly jerking their arms out of their sockets when they found their charge as unmovable as a mountain.

Everything, STOPPED.

For several moments, the giant didn't move. Complete, dead, silence followed in the quake of Adrian's words.

Randy. That name. Randy. It brought back memories of a different time. Of a different place. Of a child, a little girl, with snow white hair and beautiful blue eyes. A child that danced like a fairy through the woods. A child who's giggling laughter could melt ice with it's warmth. A child that would sneak him food when mother punished him, who asked him to play with her when he was lonely, who made him smile when he was sad and hurt.

A child, that held all the warmth and light he had ever know in his life, before she was taken away, forever.

'Randy! Come play with me!'

Slowly, as though time was returning from a sea of molasses, the giant turned it's head back to the man. The full weight of the behemoth's gaze bore down on Adrian. This time there was no mistrust, scorn, rage, apathy, or any of the like that was the norm of the behemoths stares. It was total bewilderment in his eyes. A look of complete shock and confusion, as though this Adrian, this strange man, had become a complex riddle of mind shattering proportions that the behemoth struggled to piece together.

Eventually the team of keepers grew increasingly nervous at the giant's unnatural quietness. They started to tug at him to get him moving, and the giant slowly found his feet again. But his gaze never left Adrian's face. The only movement of his head was to nod once to him, before he finally was pulled into the building and out of sight. A final, unasked question laid on the giant's mind as he descended into the darkness.

Who are you?

---

Alexa Morrow

---

The hug was... not as warm as Alexa had remembered, but the feeling had been lost to time, seeing as the last time she was hugged was by her father, but most of those memories were gone, lost to the abyss of a life filled with too much pain. Zoya was much to gruff to hug, she cut right to the kiss, expecting either an escalation from there, or a parting of ways(needless to say she was disappointed with what occurred). And Alistair was never one to show affection, at least when he was sober... but that wasn't hugging, that was how she learned to not dwell on the past, and how great alcohol was. Kryssis was rigid, immobile like a statue, she wasn't embrace the hug, nor the implication behind it. It wasn't romantic, or sexual, it was simply Alexa trying to return the favor, trying to ease her savior's pain, it was all Alexa could think to do it return for her life. She could smell Kryssis's turmoil, she could feel it from the way she moved, talked, felt. Alexa was good at reading people, it was one of her talents. The fact that Kryssis was able to hide her pain with pure strength only made Alexa more intrigued with her, but that was a conversation for another day, now she needed only to make Kryssis feel better in some small way, no matter the cost.

Alexa rested her hands on Kryssis, one on her upper back, one on her lower, she took in Kryssis's energy and warmth, drawing from it before responding, "It's a hug. A common practice in most places to show affection or to make someone feel better. Relax yourself, don't be so rigid, embrace it, trust me. And if you don't, have your hands ready to break my neck if it'll make you feel at ease, my life is in your hands now," Alexa wasn't sincere about this, as she didn't want to die, but she assumed Kryssis wouldn't break her neck for a simple hug, "Didn't your parents ever hug you? Or do you have another affectionate gesture amongst the Sidheghul?"

"Affection was seen as a gateway to weakness. A solvent that eroded the will," Kryssis regarded Alexa with a little less mistrust, but the confusion remained etched into her eyes all the same. "I never knew my parents. No on in the tribe did," she said, not even a hint of disappointment, longing or sadness in her voice. Why would there be? She'd never grown to be attached to them, never had a reason to wish she'd known whoever brought her into this world. The Sidheghul culture rejected the idea of growing up bonded to two specific individuals, and those two linked similarly to their offspring. It created connections that threatened the solidarity of the tribe, breeding bias and turning loyalties toward meager cells instead of the greater body. "We had no such gestures. I.. was not aware they existed," she admitted honestly, not ashamed to do so. She could not be blamed for being raised in a society that brought up its young in such a way, she had only been a child with no innate understanding of the world after all.

Kryssis looked away for a moment, she could feel something.. melting inside of her. An ancient iceberg, its roots far beneath the surface, slowly began to crack. Long, spindly arms and fingers crawling like lightning across the surface, cutting deep though the massive chunk protested loudly- its core holding hard, refusing to break. "I'm not going to kill you," she stated simply. Her eyes returned to Alexa, brow furrowed, searching the girl's gaze ponderously. "I would counsel you to sparingly give your life to another. But, I have no reason to take it." She didn't quite get the intended gesture behind what Alexa had said, but it was not entirely missed. With some discomfort, Kryssis attempted to comply. Loosening the tension in her arm and back, she relaxed a little into the girl's hold. There was something.. almost warm about it, and even this would have made Kryssis scratch her head curiously. It was a human response, one she'd never even known was there. She didn't understand it, she just knew that it was actually somewhat.. calming.

The giant man stopped and stood like a mountain, staring down upon Adrian. All seemed to be silent save for the noises of the small city just beyond the walls, all eyes on him and the titan. The only gaze that mattered to Adrian at the moment however was that of the armored soul before him. The big man looked down at him with what seemed like intense curiosity, as if trying to answer an important question by simply looking at Adrian hard enough.

As the titan eventually let his keepers take him away (much to Adrian's ire) the juggernaut gave the Prince a curt nod. And like that an understanding between them was formed, an understanding that Adrian planned on exploring to a greater degree. To himself, "Randy it is than." Adrian smirked, it seemed like he'd garnered more reaction out of the titan than anyone here had yet.

Watching the big man recede into darkness with some agitation, but unwilling to cause more of a scene (at least at the moment) whilst a job was at hand, Adrian focused his attention on the Deadmen caravan only to find, to little surprise, that all eyes were on him. Collecting himself, Adrian strolled over to those who seemed to hold the most importance, Nimba close behind and waving his cloak toward him irritably in a silent, “Take your damned thing, wey'ho!”

Once at a respectful distance – and newly cloaked – he bowed his head, ever the gentleman, only to be greeted by the imbecilic wizard, "You're an Abbeni, I can tell." The fool hissed in scorn. Abbeni was the dominant ethnicity within Abbedon and was often used as way of an slur by those who held an dim view on the Empire. "Damn Imperials. Scum, the lot of you! Always interfering where you don't belong!" And with that the fool spit on Adrian's boots. Adrian stared at the man for a long while, not saying a single word or lifting a single finger. No emotion visible on his person.

Taking a step forward, Adrian simply smiled and turned his head to the fair woman who called out to him before. With a bow, "To answer your previous query, I do indeed have business with you. I trust milady is a more civilized individual than the lot around you? I tire of the rabble, as you might understand."

Nimba mumbled, “Oh, yeah. Good way to get them on your side.”

Adrian only smirked.

A brief flicker of a reaction flashed across Trista's face as she was addressed. Though not unheard of, it was definitely rare for humans to display formality toward Deadmen. "Civilized?" she echoed blankly, folding her arms casually over her chest. "It’s been a long time since that word has had any meaning to us. Weapons, by nature, cannot be civilized. Humans are civilized. Not us." She paused in thought for a moment. The enforcer had called him an Imperial, but also an Abbeni. The two terms were familiar, but she couldn’t decide if they were exclusive to each other or not. Small desert cities sitting in the middle of nowhere were not much for significant cultural interaction, especially when you were always busy out in the fields slaying some unfortunate beast, or perhaps the other way around if they themselves had stumbled upon dangerous quarry.

At length, she went back on topic. "State your business here and be on your way." Trista’s gaze slowly turned to the upfront white-haired girl accompanying him, slightly narrowing her eyes. Even by the start of the exchange, her hand had already been drawn back to the sword hanging at her waist. The girl looked just about ready to lunge at someone's throat. “I advise that you keep all ill intent contained,” she said in a voice that was far less than friendly, gloved fingers tightening around the grip. Though it wouldn’t be accurate to say that she had a twitchy sword arm, it would not be incorrect to say that she was more than prepared to separate heads from shoulders if the situation called for it. “If you attempt to attack us or the enforcers, we will be forced to either kill or apprehend you in accordance to the issued threat or assault.”

---

Alexa Morrow

---

The hug became much more organic as Kryssis's shell slowly began to crack. Not pressing her luck any farther, Alexa slowly ended the embrace, squeezing a bit tighter just before exiting. She immediately missed the sensation, wishing only to be close once more. She coughed slightly, then readjusted her jerkin before sitting down in her previous seat, eyes set upon Kryssis. Scoffing, she said, "It's my life, I believe I can trust the woman whom kept it in this world with it." She was half trying to convince herself, as well as Kryssis of this fact, but paranoia was a truculent thing...

Looking away she said with a cool countenance, no smile, no frown, no happiness, no sadness, "You shouldn't devalue affection, it's stronger than you might think... It eats at you... changes you... contorts you... it makes you something you never thought possible... it makes you do things you never thought possible... it is sordid and abysmally cruel and unexplainably jubilant... all in one," The fire of her old home passed through her mind, the screams of her mother, the taste of Michael's blood in her mouth, the feel of it in her hair, on her face, soaking her clothes. She sighed before continuing, "Affection can make us delirious, it can control us. It's like a drug, once you tasted it, no matter how small an amount, you will always want more... It is indescribable... it is the greatest strength, and the greatest weakness." Her thoughts then traveled to Alistair, his headless body in the city streets, the fields of corpses she traversed to get to the killer... She wore his, and all his co-conspirator's ears around her neck until Zoya removed them, "But affection is worth it, as it grants us strength when we're at our weakest, joy when we're at our saddest... it's worth it," she smiled a bit when she thought on Zoya, she never harmed Alexa(even if Alistair never remembered), and she was still alive the last time they spoke(despite her father). Their friendship made all that pain seem worth it...

That was the power of affection.

Nimba's attention was pulled away by another voice. This man looked be a wizard himself, after a fashion, but.. something about him seemed far less bigoted and belligerent. She turned to face him directly, her head shifting to the side a little in a quizzical examination of him. "Yi Aba, yeah. I don't think anyone's called us 'Abarran' since the Carthim dissolved Abarra," she said with a hoarse chuckle, the raging buffoon nearby slipping from her mind. "Didn't really expect anyone to my notice ethnicity this far from Abbedon, especially not by our old name," she admitted with a shrug. Before he could reply, her attention was pulled back to Adrian and the Deadmen. She nodded to the wizard and chased after her comrade waving his cloak at him. He finally took it off her hand, and she stood a few feet behind him silently, until he tried - at least - to make friends with the soldiers. She scoffed at his attempt, rolling her eyes incredulously. This was going nowhere fast, and she was losing interest, at least up until one of the Deadmen addressed her directly. Her head snapped around, eyes fastening coldly onto the girl. "She must think I'm a proper idiot who goes around starting fights," she said, but speaking to Adrian and not the soldier. "I don't throw the first punch," this to the girl, "But your friend the old fool there seems like the kind who might," she snickered.

Adrian sighed and looked at his partner with an expression that clearly read, “Quiet!” His mood was fast deteriorating, if things didn't shape up soon he had half a mind to walk away. Closing his eyes for a moment before speaking in an ever polite tone. "Weapons are tools to be used. They do not act by themselves, do not think or feel. All three can not be said for you. You're a woman, not an object." Adrian smiled. The fool attempted to speak but Adrian cut him off, "Therefore, considering you are indeed an person, we can make business."

Removing the necklace and presenting it to them all, "I've come to deliver this and offer any assistance I," he pointed to Nimba, "and she can offer." And with a shrug, "As long as we get paid, that is."

The old wizard stared at necklace for a bit, bellowed a curse filled claim of ownership and than took to grab it from Adrian's hands...only to completely miss his target as Adrian in a blur of speed sidestepped the fool. Losing his footing the wizard fell to the ground only to garner a small laugh from Nimba.

His cooler nerves beginning to take over Adrain simply smiled and offered an hand to the wizard, only to have it bashed away, "You filthy little street rat, you will give me that necklace now!"

The Ghost of East Abbedon grinned wolfishly, "You'll forgive me if I do no such thing. You see I was promised more than two thousand gold to deliver this little pendent. Two thousand is quite allot of money - would need a crate or two to carry all that. And, well..." He looked around in mock curiosity, "I see no such crates, do you?"

Placing the necklace back around his neck, Adrian clasped his hands behind his back in a commanding posture. Words were just as much a weapon to Adrian as blades and he wielded them well. In a duel of wits the old fool was clearly losing. That was apparent in the way he blustered out a tangles mess of words.

Looking back at the fair woman, "Consider this necklace my insurance plan until I receive what is owed to me. Until than we're at your service, my lady. Within reason." He bowed and gave a charming grin.

"What significance lies in action, thinking, and feeling when the future holds nothing in store but bloodshed?" Trista sighed, watching the old man fumble about in frustration as he attempted to get a hold of the necklace. She would have liked to have told him that he would achieve nothing if he continued to behave in that manner, but she decided that she would only earn herself a snappy reply in return by doing that. What was the point of wasting breath on long since deaf ears? As the man hit away the foreigner's hand, Trista stepped in to help him up instead. It was simple enough to tell from his grip that he had been reluctant about taking her hand. After the man had dusted himself off, scowling, she turned her attention back to the Imperial.

At your service.

My lady.

There he went on again. It wasn't to say that she preferred the more typical glare and cold shoulder treatment, but she could not help but admire the strange approach, courteous to an extent, even if it may not have been sincere or in kindness. Why could her brothers have not been the same? Her mother and father who had disowned the 'fetid corpse' that had invaded their house after her long and tiring years of service. And not just him either, but the warrior girl that had accompanied her at the aqueduct as well. Could a new magic be floating about their heads? She hadn't amused herself with such a thought in a long time. "I will see to it that your actions are reimbursed. Until then, I would suggest you remain on standby, perhaps stay the night at an inn if you plan on sticking around for longer."

The fair woman's words were so ironic that Adrian almost laughed. Did she truly value herself so little? Such a pity. Adrian was the first one to admit that he's no fan of the DMD, but even he knew what this woman was saying was so very wrong. Sighing internally, Adrian decided to meet her on the more practical matters of it all, "Why, it's very simple: In a warrior's work without action or thought one would surely fall and without feeling your comrades will fall as well." Adrain nodded to the woman before him, "The very fact that you can say such thing, feel such thing, means you are far more than just an object. Do not belittle yourself into thinking your existence means nothing."

Looking up into the cloudless sky Adrian mused for a bit. Adrian hated the worldview which this woman held and he'd at least try to fix what he saw as a grave problem. He wasn't idealistic enough to assume he'd succeed and he certainly wouldn't push the issue further than he had unless asked. Still, one could never say Adrain didn't try. Looking back at the fair woman, "I pray my words sink in, my dear." And he would, if only in passing.

Turning to the now standing old fool, Adrian smiled and switched to his native tongue, "You are an ignorant, decrepit piece of scum who doesn't even deserve the hellfire of Kras's realm. In another time and place I would have killed you where you stand, so consider yourself lucky you piece of trash." Adrian's tone was polite and friendly, anyone who didn't speak Imperial Common would have no idea his words held ill intent. And judging by the fool's confused and angry stare he comprehended nothing.

Patting the old wizard on the shoulder - much to the fool's disgust - Adrian turned and proceeded to leave, Nimba close behind with a contented smirk on her face. Pausing for a brief moment, Adrian spun back around on his heel and took an elegant bow, "As yes I almost forgot: I am Adrian Ronuad," they had yet to earn the honor of being given his family name, "and this is Nimba," he nodded his head in her direction, "A pleasure, I'm sure."

And with that settled, Adrian walked away. Intent on exploring the facets of what people around here considered "civilization". Who knows, he might just find a bar...

Kryssis wasn't sure how to take this, really. The way Alexa described it made it seem as if there was more a price for it than anything else, and she was immediately wary of it for that reason alone. She didn't like anchors- she didn't care for something that you needed other than yourself and your tools in order to get something done, or otherwise just persist. "Perhaps it's not something for me, then," she said thoughtfully, shifting in her seat and looking down at the bar top in silence. "It's never mattered to me, before. I've lived most of my life without it, so I see no reason why I should suddenly give myself over to be swallow by this.. force. I neither know it nor trust it, and the last time I joined with something so.. metaphysical it ended poorly." She shook her head, and took a breath. This conversation was starting to eat at her, and a voice whispered for her to get up and leave- go somewhere else. But the truth was she had now place else to go. Nothing more she could do, at least not until the morning when she'd have to check back in with the DMD. And even then, unless they had another mission she would still be wandering aimlessly afterward. So despite her instincts, she was left not moving. What would the point have been?

Collecting her thoughts, Kryssis said, "I have told you of myself, but I know nothing of you other than your name." She looked up at Alexa quizzically, her eyes searching for answers in the girl's gaze. "I would prefer I know whom I have given such knowledge to. A weapon for a weapon, as it were."

---

Alexa Morrow

---

Kryssis's unease was clear, Alexa put on a fake smile and looked back at her. She scoffed and said, "Well you should try it sometime, it really is worth it all," Sighing she looked at the barmaid, Elise, "I need a drink... Elise! Can I get a flagon of mead?" Elise sauntered over, a bit less jubilant than usual and silently set a flagon of mead in front of Alexa, walking away without another word. Alexa thought on it for less than a second before taking a large drink from her flagon before continuing, "So what do you want to know? I was born in an island far from here... I can't remember the name anymore. I grew up in Almraven, a city far to the north, I lied, stole, and cheated to stay alive. Ever eaten a rat? They're better than you might think. Or that's what we told ourselves at least. Was trained by a Deadman, now I am here looking for work," she kept it brief on purpose, hoping that Kryssis wouldn't care. Despite the fact that this woman saved her life, and that she herself had opened up immensely, Alexa still had trouble opening up to her...

She couldn't help it, it was imbedded in her nature.

Belittle? Trista thought. We are all small men here, dancing blissfully in the palm of an angry hand. Of course, things had not always been this way. Life was so much bigger then, but she had been living so cynically and seriously for so long she had almost forgotten what it had felt like to be alive, truly alive as she once was all those years ago. A part of her still remained somewhere within, a withered seed waiting for the first drops of rain. "Trista Anerwyn," she said in response to the Imperial's self introduction. "Keep your eyes peeled," she added as he began making his way toward the heart of the town. "Some are warier of foreigners than others." She could hear Darkus spitting in his direction as he left.

"Trying to make a damned fool of me," he cursed, his face recovering from the redness of his earlier frustration. "Once he's done with business," the man said, turning to Trista, "I want him out of this town. Imperials thinking they can just waltz in here and do as they please; the nerve of these low lives never fail to astound me." He paused to take a light breath, surveying the girl's face for a reaction. "Even trash like you know how to follow orders." Darkus fixed his collar and squinted, making an effort to read her stoic expression. "I can never tell what you Deadmen are plotting. Nothing good I take it, if anything goes on in your rotted minds at all."

"You have a job," Trista simply replied. "No one will receive a report if you stand here and make idle chat."

"I don't need a filthy Deadman telling me how to do my work!" he snapped, though he did acknowledge the fact that the report indeed had to be returned. He stormed off from the caravans, swearing incoherently under his breath as he walked.

"Well, that went off with a hitch now, didn't it?" Nima remarked, keeping in stride with Adrian as they left the Deadmen behind. She spared a final glance over her shoulder at the female soldier her comrade had seemed to take an interest in - then again, what woman did he not seem to be fascinated by? "Now you've gotten us stuck here in this daya lo'wi sand farming hovel. Remind me to thank you later with a swift smack to your head, aye?" She mimed striking him with the aft end of her staff, shaking her head in exasperation. Although, as prideful as she was she could not blame him even in the slightest for what he'd done - especially when gold was on the line. She didn't like the idea of leaving without their pay any more than he did. Probably even less, considering their respective backgrounds. That was not a reprieve from her complaining, however. Nimba looked for any and every reason to chew him out, even if she had to make something up or cause an issue herself just so she could pin it on the poor bastard. What else was she to do with her time? Work? That was only when Adrian really got himself into trouble. Until he needed his ass bailed out, she wouldn't bother even batting an eyelash. Because that's what partners were for, right?

Kryssis laughed. It sounded harsh, and looked positively wicked, but it was probably the most good-natured chuckle she'd ever let out. "I've eaten whatever there was to use for food. When you traverse the desert endlessly, the luxuries are whatever you can take. Until we would come upon a good haul we would make do with any scraps or morsels we could dredge up from the wastes. You earn a stomach of iron, that way." She snorted, an almost nostalgic gleam in her green eyes, "It also teaches you not to lean on luxuries. To survive takes knowing that anything and everything can be done to extend your life." She shrugged half-heartedly, and sighed softly, "That includes at the expense of another's. Perhaps amidst other places and peoples that's frowned upon, but for the Sidheghul it was a day-to-day reality. I'd been forced to kill my own people, before. I was in no position of leadership in the tribe, but I.. had influence. That draws enemies. Those who sought to claim that for themselves, relieving me of my head in the process. I could not trust a word from anyone, not completely. That saved my life many times over the years." She sounded a little tired as she spoke. As a Deadman she could not truly experience such a feeling, but it was more a lingering memory. An admittance that constant hypervigilance could easily take its toll on the psyche, weighing her down with an invisible burden that had been eating away at her mind all long the rope of her life. Her eyes fell, feeling heavier as these remnants slunk to the surface, nibbling and clawing and generally threatening to destabilize her. She no longer possessed a desire to sleep, and she doubted even the ability, but at that moment something inside of her only wished she could rest. Not just for a night, but for all the years she'd not even realized had been lived with an unregistered terror sapping her will.

Suddenly furrowing her brow, she somewhat scornfully murmured, "It's possible I've laden you with too much of myself." She looked over at Alexa, trying to read the girl in a way that would not seem so.. invasive. "You have more or less told me that your speaking with me was motivated by a sense of debt for my saving your life. I've tied leashes around the necks of others for much less than that. If you'd like, consider that repaid. You needn't be troubled by me any longer. I.. no longer feel welcome in this place," she murmured, looking around the inn. "Not that I actually felt invited to begin with."

---

Alexa Morrow

---

Alexa smirked as Kryssis spoke, the words resonating all too well in her memories. Sighing, she took another large drink from the flagon. Alcohol was her best friend, it had been for a long time, discovering it's potent affects with Alistair, and using them to her benefit after his death. She didn't like the taste too much, but the effect was all she needed. She looked back at Kryssis and smiled meekly, "I... I thanked you out of obligation... I have spoken to you for so long... because you're a mystery, an enigma... I don't fully understand you, or your reasoning behind saving me, and I wanted to know a woman who would do that for another," she chugged the last of the mead before continuing, "I've... I've saved people before, plenty... but not random women in the desert... when I save people, I get something for it, if not coin, then peace of mind, you got nothing out of saving me, in fact it hindered you, why would you do it? From what I've heard it's monumentally unlike you, meaning there's something about me that's different," she sighed, "What's so special about me, that you saved my life. I'd never seen you, never touched you, never spoken to you, never promised anything, never gave any indication of reward... I don't deserve you saving me like that... I'm just a hopeless alcoholic who kills and subverts and sabotages and steals to get her next high. I was willing to ruin a man's reputation just to keep myself drunk for a few more weeks," She scoffed, her brow furrowed, looking away from Kryssis, she continued, "Why? What compelled you to save me? What made me more important than the Sand Reaper you beheaded?"

Kryssis once had a similar connection with alcohol, but not because she liked the side-effects. In fact, she detested them. Living in the desert, though, water was scarce and could not be ported for long before it went stagnant. Beer, on the other hand, lasted, and if there was little food, well.. it was almost like liquid bread at times. Vital for survival. She thought for a moment to say something of the wisdom behind burying pain under the addictive bliss liquor brought, but decided against it. That was Alexa's choice, and she would not trouble herself with how the girl dealt with her pain.

Alexa's query, though... That was the real question. Why? Why had Kryssis gone out of her way to save Alexa when she noticed her so close to death? Kryssis shook her head somberly, "Would you believe me if I told you I do not know?" She asked, lowering her eyes. "Ever since my death, I've not understood myself as I once did. Sometimes I don't even feel the same anymore, like.. like I'm a different person living in my own skin. I've always comprehended threats that I had to face with a sword or my hands, but this is.. beyond anything I've ever killed. I have never had to fight myself before," she murmured. "It's as if I've been asleep most of my life, and I'm just now waking up. I don't understand it. That's what.. frightens me." Her voice lowered to a whisper, the admittance tasting harsh on her tongue. It did scare her that she had no power over this, not even an inkling of it. Whatever pulled her along did so without her consent, and would not cease just because it upset her. In fact, that.. almost seemed its goal: to knock her off her feet.

Walking through town, letting the sights (as much as there was to see in this sandpit, anyway), sounds and smells wash themselves across his senses, Adrian felt an urge in the back of his mind to start running. It wasn't out of fear or the like. Certainly not, the famed wanderer simply had the itch to move - to let his body take him where it may, to traverse the architecture of the city as easily as one would walk across a road. The itch demanded that and much more.

And he squelched the thought. As much as his body wanted to Adrian was not in the mood to properly enjoy it. All he wanted to do was get out of the sun and rest for a spell. Chuckling at Nimba's words, "I'll be sure to schedule in my pending physical assault into the 'to do' list, Nimba. I swear on my honor." Adrian gave a half-smirk to his charge, playing his part in the long game only they seemed to know the rules to. Many wondered why he kept her around if all they seemed to do was throw sarcastic retorts at one another. Why? Because it was amusing, of course!

Patting his minx of a partner on the shoulder and pointing to the building now directly in front of them, "Care for a drink to wash away the sands and heat?" It was a rhetorical question, he knew very well she did.

Nimba smiled sweetly, though there remained a poisonous curve to her lips as she said, "Ale," and nothing else, leaving the implication he knew all too well hanging in the air.

In mock shock he echoed, "Ale?!" And with a grin that held as much hidden meaning as her own, he walked into the door.

Looking around the bar, one would find that it was homely. It wouldn't be winning awards anytime soon but it looked comfortable. Seemed as if a bunch of chaps were getting rowdy but one didn't walk into a bar like this and expect quiet and mannered folk. Walking up to the counter Adrian donned his trademark grin, "Excuse me, my sweet." The lovely barmaid turned to greet him, trying (and failing) to discretely look Adrian up and down.

"What can I do for you, handsome?" Putting on his charms, with with a small amount of flair Adrian folded one arm to his back and took an elegant bow, folding the other arm to his front as he did, only to garner a giggle from lovely woman.

Standing back up, "I would like a glass of ale and a glass of wine, if a beauty such as yourself might be so kind. And a room for the night, if you would." A charming smile graced his lips.

The woman's only response was a meek nod, her features flushed crimson. Trying to hide her giggles as she went about to prepare his drinks. Pleased with himself Adrain glanced to his left only to spy two striking beauties. He took particular interest in the one bearing two swords, their was fire - a ferocity - to her that intrigued him. He could tell by her very presence that she was a powerful warrior. Same for with the other woman, but not quite the same vein. A splendid sight to see!

The barmaid came back to him with his drink and room key, "The drinks are on the house, darling," she said with a wink.

Bowing his head, Adrian replied "Your kindness moves me, my lady." Blushing again, the fair maiden discussed the room price with him and after paying what was owed - with a little extra gold thrown in for the drinks(Adrian, by principle, always paid what he owed in full) Adrian turned away from the counter.

Smirking at Nimba as he handed her her drink, Adrian glanced back to the two warrior beauties at the counter. He entertained the idea of taking a crack at them but decided to pass. Much to the shock of anyone who might know him, he mused. People would say it wasn't the "Adrian thing to do". Well, Adrian knew very well what the Adrian thing to do was and right now that involved sitting down and drinking his wine.

Settling down at one of the back tables, situated so that he could see the entirety of the room, Adrian propped his legs up on the the table, leaned the chair back against the wall and took a long sip of his wine. He watched as the loud, arguing men grew even louder. Only half-listening, Adrian heard some mention of “honor”, something about money and even a matter concerning one man's sister. Moments later a brawl had begun, with one of the belligerents finding himself laid out somewhere near the bar.

Oh look – Adrian mused – a bar fight. Splendid, some entertainment.

Nimba fell without an ounce of grace into a chair, leaning back and tipping up the flagon to quaff a healthy mouthful of the draught. After wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand, she nodded over to the two women she'd seen Adrian ogling. "You know, I'm surprised you didn't try something on them. Usually you make like a bee to honey if it means warm company for the night so that you can fill that sad, empty hole of a heart you've got there," she said, pointing at his chest. Her eyes flickered briefly to the fight, and then rolled skyward in their sockets. "If I find out you've been bought by some street-side salvation vendor, I'll have to reeducate you myself. It honestly frightens me a little when you don't go chasing every winsome gi-" She was cut off when one of the fighting men was shoved into her chair. She lurched forward, her drink sloshing in the flagon, and a decent portion of it splashed out onto the floor.

Nimba calmly set her ale down on the table and nodded politely to Adrian in a silent, "Excuse me, a moment." Grabbing up her staff she surged to her feet and thwacked a man on the back of the head. He crashed face-first into the floor. Bewildered, one of the other belligerents stared at her in wide-eyed slack-jawed shock just before the aft of her rod slammed hard into his gut. She whirled it in an upward arc, bringing it down onto his back and driving him to his knees. Of the three remaining, one charged her. Nimba deftly ducked out of the way, tripping him and swinging the staff high. It collided with the side of another man's head, putting him into the wall. As he slumped to a heap, she turned her eyes to the last standing brawler. Pale faced and looking like he was ready to wet himself, he edged around the room and made for the door at a sprint. Straightening out her hood, Nimba nodded to the girl behind the bar, "Apologies for the mess, cupcake." The girl nodded numbly, and Nimba sat back down, taking a calm sip of her ale. Catching Adrian's expression, she defensively exclaimed, "I know you paid for the rotten flagon, but it's still my damned drink!"

---

Alexa Morrow

---

Alexa felt uneasy with the way their conversation was moving... it moved into the territory where Alexa would have to divulge her own baggage, and she really didn't want to. She wanted to continue talking, but she also wanted to get as drunk as possible before passing out upstairs. She was ready to say something when a brawl broke out in the Inn. She didn't hear the beginning of the argument, but contenders were brutish men, nothing worth getting involved in. If there was a weaker party that needn't be injured, that's when Alexa would've gone in with her stiletto drawn and ready to maim(not kill). She was about to speak again when a girl knocked both men down. She was intriguing in her own right, she had a mischievous aura about her, one that Alexa didn't trust in the slightest. Peeling her eyes away from the girl, they moved to Kryssis for less than a second before going back to her empty flagon. Elise, without saying a word, dropped another flagon in front of Alexa before moving to the floor to clean up the mess. She immediately grabbed it and took a drink before saying, "Thank the gods," she sighed before looking back to Kryssis, "The best thing I've found to alleviate fear is getting as drunk as possible... Drink until the fear goes away, until the pain goes away, until you can't feel anything... Either get drunk or find someone to talk to about it... both are equally effective," she took another drink while she thought about Zoya, her only real friend, her substitute alcohol, "Not saying that I should be that person, but you need to find someone. A lover, a friend, something..."

Kryssis caught what Alexa said, but was more intently focused on the fight going on behind them. As it drew to an end, she turned her attention back to the girl sitting at her side and frowned in a cautious manner, "I don't think I would be comfortable with.. a lover," she said awkwardly. She'd never given that kind of thing much thought. Ever. It was always pushed so far down underneath.. well.. surviving. Considering it quietly for several moments, she said, "A friend, however..." her words hung in space, drifting lazily as she tried to find the right phrasing, the right course of thought, "Could be useful, perhaps." She sounded on edge; uneasy.

The uncomfortableness became too much, and she got to her feet - sparing one last glance at Alexa - and walked across the room, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the men the white-haired girl had beat into submission, and stopped in front of their table. She analyzed the two seated there with their drinks, appraising them shortly. Finally, to the girl she said, "Impressive," and then eyed the man she'd come in with. "You were staring at she-," Kryssis jerked her head back toward Alexa, "-and I as you entered. I do not appreciate being watched like that." He had a lithe, athletic build to him. By his dress, weapons and body she could easily tell he was a fighter. One built for speed. A harrier of sorts. The corner of her mouth quirked up into a half-smirk, "If you are going to stare at me, the least you could do is give me your name. Otherwise I will be left so assume to mean me ill. In which case, such intent will be returned."

Well...he did say he wanted entertainment. Nimba's little rampage was definitely entertaining, to say the least. As the woefully one-sided fight went on, an amused grin grew ever wider upon Adrian's visage. But it was Nimba's comment as she sat back down that truly got to him, and he laughed. A long and hardy laugh. The entire incident had been utterly amusing to him. Oh, and he needed to laugh, too. It felt like his frayed nerves soothed over in those few moments of mirth. Grinning wide at Nimba, "You went soft on them, remember the last time someone made you spill your drink?" Chuckling, Adrain moved his legs to an more comfortable resting position and took another long sip of his wine.

His eyes locked on to the fiery amazonian warrior as she approached, a smile on his face as her eyes appraised he and Nimba. Chuckling at her comment, "Was I staring? How rude of me, I did not intend my observation to be so obvious." He kept his eyes locked on hers, but evaluated more thoroughly in return out of the corner of his eyes. What he saw only confirmed what he thought before: this woman was a warrior built to cut a bloody swath through her foes. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't evaluating her softer features, as well.

Putting his feet on the floor and placing his glass on the table, "I do apologize if I offended. I was simply observing you as you observe me now. Well, " he shrugged with a smirk, "It is true that my intent was likely different than yours. I will not deny." Adrian guessed that this woman respected honesty, and why would he have any reason to lie?

Grinning, "And as for my name? You may call me Adrian." He pointed to his charge, "And this is Nimba. A pleasure." And with that Adrian nodded his head respectfully. It was obvious this woman wouldn't be swayed by a mere flattering word and a charming smile. He expected her to be a tough nut to crack and, well, Adrian enjoyed a challenge.

Taking a sip of his wine, "I sense that you enjoy the thrill of a spar. Tell me, does that extend to words? How does a clash of wits sound to you?" He was blunt and direct, but remained courteous, "In good nature, of course. We intend no ill unless provoked." This said in a sterner tone than usual. The message was clear: Respect my space, and I'll respect yours.

Kryssis folded her arms across her chest, her head leaning to the left and hair spilling across her shoulder and backs like an inky wave of water flowing over dark sand. One green eye unveiled, the other curtained over by her hair, she darted the single sphere over him in a quick and eclectic analysis. "I prefer fighting with my hands, not my tongue," she hissed, and then smirked wickedly. There was an almost evil gleam in her eyes. The emerald green darkened over, withering under a cancerous cloud. "However, you seem to be.. easy prey in that regard," she began, drawing a chair to the table and seating herself, the sheathes of her sabres clattering against the wooden legs. She propped her own feet up exactly where Adrian's had been mere moments ago, almost in a gesture of claiming his territory. "Pity can be an interesting motivation to appease someone's needs. Not all of them, obviously." There wasn't an ounce of humor to her words, but the meaning and the joke were apparent enough. Her face was a slate, devoid of any emotion- eyes glassed over and steeled on her target the way an animal would watch its prey for any signs to strike. "To put it most aptly: I am not expecting very much of a challenge. I am only here because I feel you'd be upset were I to turn you down, is that right?" There was nothing in her tone to say she was necessarily jeering, there wasn't any need for emotion to hammer in the nails. The words alone would do the work. Of any possible signs of derision, the only one was the snort she gave at the end of her speech.

The white-haired girl - Nimba - scoffed, her boisterous chuckling threatening to make her spill her drink. Setting it down carefully, she wiped at her eyes and said, "I think you've very well just made his day, koa bid'n mo."

The entire time, Kryssis had been keeping an eye on Alexa out of her peripherals, watching to see what the girl would do. Would she linger and drink herself to a stupor, or make her way elsewhere? Curious, but not intrusively so, Kryssis resigned herself to a state of impartiality regarding what the girl did next. She'd made an offer of sorts before leaving her company, and now it was just up to her whether or not she wished to accept.

---

Alexa Morrow

---

Although her request wasn't much like a request, more like a mechanical statement of facts(mixed with a healthy amount of unease), Alexa still pondered the idea for awhile, even after Kryssis walked off. She took another large drink, thinking back on Zoya. Zoya was her only true friend, she had a few coalitions with people back in Almraven, but that usually degraded into a sex for food business, and when it didn't, they simply stole everything Alexa had and left her starving in a ditch, with a few extra bruises and broken bones. She had a few friends before she killed her mother, but most abandoned her after her father died and her mother was able to treat her even worse. Those weren't true friends though, they left her in her time of need, they were passersby, this Kryssis though... before any interaction she went out of her way to save Alexa's life... it's what she really wanted in a friend. It was what she had done for Zoya, saved her life and eventually befriended her... This Kryssis though... the way she said Alexa would be... "useful" was not very friendly, it made Alexa seem as if she would be her tool, not that Alexa particularly objected, as she was used to being used by people, what's one more person that gave a more fitting reward than coin? Of course, her track record with those rewarding in non-monetary values wasn't great, Zoya left a bigger hole in her soul than was left by Alistair and Alistair... well... Alistair just got lonely when he drank.

Alexa turned around in her chair and watched Kryssis walk away, her eyes drifting a bit too low. Once she sat down Alexa moved her eyes up and looked at her face as she spoke, making out what they were saying, even though they were too far to hear(she could read lips). Despite the implications of what Kryssis had said, Alexa was fine with it, she was perfectly fine with being useful to her, if not a way to be close to her for longer, than a way to repay her debt, she would use whatever argument with herself that fit at any situation. She took another large drink from her flagon and watched the scene unfolding between her new... friend... of sorts... and the two other strangers.

Adrian just sat there, fingers laced in front of him, his eyes remained locked with hers. The only expression on his face a subtle grin as he watched her sit down and say her piece. Her opening remark. The opening remark of any discussion like this set the mood and tone for what's to come. Oh, and where where this was going would be quite entertaining. The warrior beauty was a cold and stern debater. Stubborn. He could easily tell. He mused that she made a mistake in underestimating her prey before the engagement truly began. He mused also that she had done no such thing. It didn't really matter, in the end. The fun was in the challenge. The debate.

The duel.

Oh, Adrian would enjoy this.

He simply sat there, watching the woman as she watched him. Only the ever present smirk to mar his blank expression. Oh, that's not to say emotion wasn't present upon his features - any who looked upon him could easily tell he was a man that was enjoying himself. But in that lay the wall, for now he was as unreadable as his opponent before him - perhaps more, perhaps less. Didn't matter. Barely moving other than to speak, "You are Sidheghul, yes? An old man tells me your tribe was wiped out short while ago. He even told me how but that's not relevant." He simply blinked, "What's relevant is you're here. Meaning if what he says is true, and I'm inclined to believe it is, then you're the last of your kind. Is that right?" His voice was steady, monotone - a tone of amusement and apparent boredom rolled into one. The only deviation was the small snort issued at the end of his words, mimicking her almost exactly.

"Oh how rude of me, I neglected to answer your previous question," a slight cock of his head his only movement, "To put it most aptly:" his words a mirror of her own, "Not particularly. I find you an interesting curiosity. A challenge to overcome, little more. " Once again he simply blinked, "To revoke my offer merely means I would have to find another." He smiled at her and patted her leg before returning to his previous position.

Before the beauty could speak, the doors of the inn slammed open and seven thugs wielding knives and machetes entering. The man who ran away during Nimba's little brawl close behind. The coward pointed at their table, "That's the bitch, Kenny. She's the one who knocked out Jake and the boys."

“Kenny” moved to the front the pack, eyes trained directly on Nimba, "That were moi brother ya knocked ou', ya whore. Yer gonna pay." Kenny obviously wasn't too bright.

Sighing in disgust, Adrian slowly took a sip of his wine before standing, "Pardon me for a moment, ladies."

Walking into the middle of the room as if nothing at all was the matter, Adrian surveyed his surroundings. There weren't that many people in the bar to begin with, most on the other side of the room with several being ushered out the back way by one of the bar-hands. Good. Adrian didn't like fighting indoors but there was plenty of room to maneuver in here so he'd make do. Smiling at the apparent leader, "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

Kenny spit in Adrian's direction, "Step 'side, Imperial. That bitch is ours." The man looked back at his assembled thugs, "Roit, boys?' And with that an assortment of cursed laden cheers and threats came from the "boys”.

"I'm afraid I can't let that happen, gentlemen. It would be beneficial to all involved if you would kindly walk out that door and go on with your day." Adrian proclaimed with a small nod of his head, remaining civil.

Slowly a realization dawned in the gang leader's eyes, "Woit, Oi know ya. Yeah, yer that Adrian fella. The Prince o' Ghosts or sum'n." Adrian almost laughed at the gross misuse of his title, "You have a bounty on yer head, boy."

Adrian smirked and crossed his arms, "I have several bounties on my head, dear man. Mind being more specific?" He chuckled, Kenny scowled.

"Once Oi'm done wif you, me and moi boys are gonna take yer lady friends over there and have some noice play time." And with that all civility in Adrian ceased. Adrian was a protective individual, to inflict serious harm or misery upon those he cared was a prime way to garner his wrath. They had already crossed the line the moment they threatened Nimba, this was simply the final nail in coffin. No harm would befall his charge, much less the other woman, as long as he was able-breathed.

As Kenny began to chat with his boys about his pending victory, Adrian began to sway side to side softly, his eyes dilating as the world began to slow down around him. At once Kenny swung his cleaver at Adrian's neck only for the blade cut through thin air as Adrian sidestepped, grabbed the man's arm and yanked down, breaking with a sickening crunch! of bone. Before the dog could even scream, Adrian grabbed his head and slammed it against his knee.

Their leader knocked out in seconds, the other thugs barely had time to register what happened before Adrian was on them. Kicking in a man's knee before turning to punch another man in the gut before boxing his ears, leaving the poor man in a fetal position and clutching at his ears.

Finally coming to their senses, one of the men took to stab Adrian with a knife only for his target to bash his arm away and swipe his legs from under him. The black-clad warrior stomped down on the man's hand then kicked the assailant's head, knocking him out.

Regrouping, the rest of the thugs were hesitant. Signs of fear showing in a few of their faces. In barely a minute nearly half their gang had been taken out in apparent inhuman speeds. They were simple street thugs, used to dealing with defenseless civilians, not someone trained to take out their opponents as quickly and effectively as possible.

All that really mattered to Adrian was that they were all focused on him, their backs turned to Nimba, the warrior woman and the other patrons. One of them yelled at him, "You think you can take us all?!"

Adrian's reply was simple, "If I must."