The Kingdom of Tarn

He kept his cloth wrapped tight around his head, hiding everything but his eyes. Right now, being what he was would only draw attention. Better to play himself off as a shy, secretive individual than what he truly was. And, that was a Venenum, or as most people called his kind, swamp fey. A disgraceful title really, though most would like to be linked to the sun dancing, ground and nature kissing fey. Not his people though. He shook his head, clearing that thought from his mind. Gazing around the bar one more time, he was trying to just...blend in. But with his choice of garb, that wasn't so easy either. Always a tough road for him. He giggled to himself, drawing a few odd stares. However, the eyes were dropped as the one or two onlookers returned to their conversations. Not much was happening around the world that he cared about theses days. He had heard talk of a rebellion, and that had stirred the craving for power that he tried to keep buried deep inside.

In his own tongue, he spat out a curse before speaking aloud to himself. "Bah...Such a boring little hovel of an inn...What must one do to keep things lively...?"

Standing from his corner seat, he arose slowly and made his way to the bar, taking a seat next to an overly flirty, and probably slightly inebriated maiden and a strapping young gent who kept sending her coos and cocky smiles. It had been the only open seat, but he instantly regretted it, now trapped between two boozed up humans who would probably be enacting their disgusting, barbarian way of mating later on that night. With a grunt of disgust, he tried, to little success, to look farther down the bar, and saw an old man arguing with the bar tender. Senile gent probably. He looked like an old war veteran or something. It made a crooked grin break out across his face, then a soft, low cackle. The maiden threw him an odd look, and the man seemed to...back away? Coward probably. Suddenly, they were trying to talk to him, but he shrugged, ignoring them rather pointedly. Soon, he found himself wondering around the pub, looking this way and that, trying to piece together a puzzle of sorts. Why were so many of these people armed? Was this not a place to relax? Last time he had been in the area, it hadn't been particular dangerous or hostile. However, things changed sometimes...

"What an odd place...Its as if some of the men are getting ready for a war..." Then, suddenly, a smile broke out underneath his wraps. A deep, inset smile that made his eyes glow in a rather eerie way. War. Rebellion. The common man. It was coming together, maybe. Just maybe. He could never be sure really, but some things were beginning to make sense about this place. And if this place was a front for an anti-loyalist group, then two options came to mind. Both could promise him what he really desired. He let out a chuckle as he once again took his seat back at the bar, a new seat this time, closer to the old man than before.

"Two options huh? Maybe...I'll see which proves to be more interesting in the end. I'll have to try both out I suppose." He didn't realize he was speaking in the common tongue this time. His accent was deep and heavy, not struggling with the words themselves, but the flow itself was slightly off. He began to hum, inspecting the men with a more discerning eye now. Which ones seemed to have more people around them? Which, if any, had the look of a leader? Did any seem slightly shunned by the others, not out of fear or loathing but respect? He viewed all of this, the insane cunning plan running through his mind causing a twinkle to come to his eye. "Maybe this holiday won't be so terrible after all, hmm?"

[ignore]

Bem huffed and grumbled to himself as he trudged through the village, his ever present shadow right on his heels as they made their way to the bar for a drink. Well, for him a drink and for her to hopefully just sit quietly and behave. The last time he tried this she ended up trying to pick pockets which normally ended up with the men being none the wiser but everyone’s luck runs out of course and well, both of theirs did. The situation ended up with him fending off five humans before fleeing the village and now his back still wouldn’t allow him to completely bend over and that was over a week ago!

He heaved a sigh, turning his head to check on the girl to make sure she was indeed keeping her hands to herself and staying on his heels. Satisfied with what he saw he turned back around, shaking off the memory as they neared the bar. “Be good in here. Understand?” He shifted his eyes back towards her for a moment in warning, although his clouded, blind eye was focused on her, he knew where she was. Taking a deep breath, he entered the bar knowing heads would turn when he appeared. First, his sheer height would draw attention, then his clothing which was nothing more than a long loincloth and then of course the fact he was a Beastkin in a civilized, if you could call it that, bar.

Taking a step into the building, he reached behind him and tugged Misora into his side to keep her close and away from the other men. Making his way to the stools, he quickly took a seat next to an individual with cloth wrapped around his head. “Remember hands to yourself girl.” He rumbled quietly to Misora once more. They’d been tailing news of a rebellion the last thing they needed was to be ran away from the closest source of information they’d gotten to by her sticky fingers.

Misora stayed close to Bem as they headed to a local bar, every once in a while catching a few grumbled words from Bem about aching backs and sticky fingers. Was it her fault the men decided to go after the big beast instead of a small girl when they discovered their items ‘missing’. No, no it was not; that was their decision to go after the wrong guy. She just had to pay for it by behaving tonight… or at least not get caught this time.

Arriving at their destination, Misora shot a glare at the back of her friend’s head as he reminded her to keep her hands to herself. “Yes sir.” she feigned a sigh as if he told her to stand in the corner, but was quickly cut off by finding her face shoved into fur as they made their way to a seat and she was given yet another reminder. Honestly! Did the male expect her to just start cutting bag straps the second they walk in? They came here for information on the rebellion, and for that she could hold off; but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look.

Relaxed in her seat, Misora started at one end of the room and examined each person within sight.

Weapon. Weapon. Unarmed, but no coins’ pouch. Weapon. Weapon. Armor...must have a weapon to go with it. Drunk and lightly armed, he may be a good one. Weapon. Hidden weapons. Drunk but WAY to friendly to get near. Weapon…

The more she looked the more excited she got. There was to be no pick pocketing tonight; rule of thumb, don’t steal from someone who’s armed and looks capable of using it. She had to learn that one the hard way with Bem. Yet the excitement was still there for another reason. It’s not every day you see this many people with this many weapons and armor of some kind; then yet, if some don’t even look all that intoxicated while sitting inside a bar. It was starting to look like the trail of the rebellion was leading them in the right way coming here.

Finally tearing her eyes away from the potential heist victims, Misora noticed the strange man with the cloth around his head. Automatically looking at his side for a weapon or money, she simply shook her head and glanced back up to where his face was hidden. If this person was being careful enough to hide his face, he was surely just as careful about the objects on him. Great, that marks another one off the list. “Looks like you’re in luck Bem and can enjoy your drink. Too many out of my league here. So I’ll just sit here like a good girl, just like I promised.” Giving the Beastkin a huge grin, she let it fall to be a more serious look and tone. “And I think we’re in the right place. If you look around there are quite a few who-WHAT’S the old short man?” Speaking softly, she leaned over the bar a bit to get a better look, switching her train of thought quickly to the shorter man a little ways down the bar. Was he one of the stompers she had heard of? She had never seen one before, but he fit the description in an elfish-crazy-old-man sort of way.

Deleted and moved for simplicity sake

The Sprites were all too happy to get out from the bar. The bartender was a very good actor- too good, in fact. The Sprites knew this for a fact, and none of them really did feel like being peeled from the side of a shard of a broken wine bottle. In any event, they were flying into the forest (making sure to fly low so that less people noticed the brightly glowing creatures in an environment full of shadows) as fast as they could, but then they all realised how needlessly tiring that was since they weren't getting chased, and then they just flew into the forest quickly.

"Okay," Ibhi began gesturing to the eleven other sprites once they touched down on a patch of dirt hit by sunlight, "We've delivered the letter. Assuming no one saw us- and I doubt they did-"

"I doubt they saw brightly glowing airborne Sprites fluttering around a dimly lit bar, too," interrupted Snarki, the lean(er) and middle-sized Sprite of the bunch with short hair a few shades darker than Ibhi's.

"Quiet you," Ibhi 'snapped' back to the female. "Anyway, the mission was a success. Hopefully. Well, if he doesn't send the verification signal in an hour, then something's definitely up."

"We have a verification signal?" A rotund (well, rotund by Sprite standards, anyway. A little chubby by human standards) sprite inquired as he ran his hand through his hair.

"... yes, he pours three, four or five different wines down four or five different holes in the forest. He's done this for ages, Memori, how- how do you not know this?" Ibhi answered, perplexed.

"That was from the barkeep?" Wori joined in. "I always thought the drunkards were above Silantat when that happened"

"That happens too, but he knows how the order goes," Snarki responded.

"Enough!" Ibhi finished his gesture with a clap, which is a big emphasis on what he was trying to say. "Anyway, let's just go back."

"What was on that letter, by the way?" Snarki asked.

"Just instructions telling him to send out some of the members to ambush the Dodecopus patrol coming in three hours on the highway for more intel."

"I thought they were called Dodepus?" Wori said.

"... Just get in the damn bush, already. I'll tell you more about the mission." And at that, the twelve Sprites flew into the bush, retreating back to Silantat.

As the shimmers and gliding sounds of sweeping dust entered the air in a gentle echoing breeze the once immobile young man started to twirl the various organic devices within in his own neck, tearing those set of glowing and neon light filled orbs to the direction of the sounds of movement that only got louder as time went by, it was not long before these said sounds of gliding became more defined and the tiny tints of metal and heavy weight being shifted drifted into his ears and thus in reaction the young man straightened his head more. The flocks on his mixtures of hair blocked some of the over bearing pillar of light that extended from the summoning materials of the windows skin, casting the light purely on his back now as he sat up straight with his spine arched in a disciplined and alertive manner when the distant image of a massive, metal monster started to move towards him in a rather quick pace. Mew's eyes narrowed for a split second as he focused his two shining observers at the approaching fellow before realizing the identity of the foreign creature and simply started to brush his fingers across the books pages before touching the sides with the tip of his joints and then gripping it with a clench of his knuckles before lifting its cover to a close, he repeated this action with each of his books that was now still open before him, shutting off the flow of information one by one while even giving them a final glance as he kept his attention on the nearing king, Murlocto.

He remained still for a moment as he clambered his eyes up and down the metal instruments that now were hugging the royal xenos body before turning his neck towards the black kissed cover on his lap while the other books each was quickly hovered away by the spherical servants he controlled, each shining up in the light as they reflected off the rays that broke through the window as they swiftly pushed the vessels of knowledge into whatever empty slots were available in the vast towers of book cases that stood on each of his sides. Memma remained rather curious in his gaze, although very adult in spirit in many ways he was still a child and that fact was obvious by the sudden increase in the width of his eyes, whom now was rather large like a set of dinner plates when he scanned the figures frame but this only remained there for a moment as his orbs had begun to glitter as such eyes do when filled with youth. After forcing himself to stop and regaining a questioning inspection of his master the formerly used book in his lap was quickly ganged up by two of sphere at a single time which both let out a gentle hum of hovering as they went by each of its sides and drifted upwards to the very top of the left bookcase as they returned the pages to their previous default position. A second past or so, just enough to let the silence of the personal sanctionairy take affect before the Multi-limped Alien was close enough to talk. His words were taken swiftly and as he said such verbal pleads for aid, the boy slowly let the number of minions move themselves up and thus acting like a slide, forcing him to take part with gravity and fall to the ground with his feet as the spheres went in a vertical manner.


A small "uh" broke out from his throat in his typical child like manner, finding it hard to add that sly and bravado filled cocksure under tones he normally would have when falling to the ground. While the little boy fell the glimmer in his hair band went into a heavenly, divine white before returning back to a pale snowy colour when greeted by the monsters shadow, his clothes also sliding up and revealing his stomach slightly along his elbows as the wind beat against his body before falling back down again to cover his immature frame. Mew took a short breath as he stood before the giant being before him and only raised his right hand up in a casual and relaxed manner at his cowl, shuffling the design side to side slightly when it had wrinkled along with went out of uniform from the fall. After having adjusted himself he look upwards at the man with his runic, mysterious but yet innocent eyes and simply let out in a somewhat soft and sweet tune "What is it, uncle Murlocto?.." in question to the previous said sentence from the king.