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Huo

Fiery pugilist and runaway slave. His temper isn't as bad as his fists.

0 · 1,506 views · located in Gyarazi Desert

a character in “Skaerra: The Unlikely Tale”, as played by VindicatedPurpose

Description

Image
Credit To Dynasty Warriors by Koei


Name: Huo (HU-oh, H-wo)
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Ethnicity: Osu
Place of Birth: Unknown Osu village somewhere in Syakh.
Physical Appearance:
A twinkle of mischief hides behind the sometimes impassioned eyes that burn beneath a scowl. His eyebrows are thick but not bushy. He stands without imposing but certainly far from unassuming. His blonde hair runs and races like the mane of a lion until they end at tips soft to touch but hard to look at. He posseses a lean and sculpted figure, which lends agility and strength but not too much of either. A healing wound stretches just over his ribs on the right. A number of long healed whip scars cover his back serving as evidence of a once incorrigible and disobedient slave.

His general travel wear would be a wool high collared sleeveless vest and linen trousers with a hood from head to toe for good measure. He wears mostly leather boots. Bandages wrap around his fists starting at his hands as fingerless gloves before covering the length of his arm until they reach his elbows. Other times, such as in battle, he wears vambraces or gauntlets. His average stature compared to other fighters requires him to stir the fear in his opponents through the tattoos that run the length of his arms beneath the bandages.

Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Dirty gold
Skin Tone/Complexion: medium tan
Height: 5 feet 11 inches
Weight: 158 pounds

Combat Skills:

Hand to Hand Combatant - Hardened. He fights, and with his bare hands he fights well. He had been fighting since before adolescence. If there is one thing that Huo knows, it is hand to hand combat. He had been trained for half of his life, which gives him knowledge of significant nuances in fighting. Furthermore, he uses Flow to augment his physical hand to hand capabilities.

Weapons Combatant - Trained. He is decent with most weapons, but not exactly talented. If he needs to fight with a weapon in hand, he will pick a sword.

Fighting Style - Aggressive. Huo's hand to hand combat style places an emphasis on mobility over raw strength because Huo is not physically immense. Thus his agility and dexterity allow him to navigate the field of battle against larger and slower foes. His technique is a hodge podge of various forms, but these forms all share aggression as a key facet. Huo is never one for the defensive, but he is smart enough to understand feigned retreats and regrouping to strike again. He knows he is not built for drawn out fights, which is why he must end things quick. He understands a number of punching and kicking styles, which may have a proper name, but he could care less about that.

Magic Mastery Level - Null. Huo never trained in the arts of magic nor will he ever because he did not possess the gift of mana when born.

Magic Resistance Level - Tertiary Level Resistance. A rather prevalent trait found in many Osu, and Dhaxi realized it served the boy well in fights against magic users. Huo's ability with his fists allowed him to catch opponents versed in magic unprepared for a bout with nothing but a slogging of fists.

Flow Mastery Level - Untrained. After that initial discovery, Huo learned, as well as Dhaxi unfortunately, that he possessed some semblance of access to Flow. He shared an affinity with the element of fire, but lacked any sort of connection with the others. He became adept at using the Flow to augment his physical capabilities more than anything. He has potential, but without tutelage of any kind in any direction, it would remain potential.

Huo had no teacher when it came to the Flow. He did what he could, following the instincts of the energy.

Weapons and Equipment: Huo has no weapons besides his fists, yet.

He wears a medium thick cuirass with spaulders that adds several pounds of weight, but it affords protection from most slashing attacks. As decoration, black plumes spring from the middle of the back and rise a little past where his hair ends on his neck to form a fan arching away from him akin to what some imagine a jungle prince may wear. Though, he discarded the vanity decoration for the sake of practicality. He has bronze vambraces on his arms that provide his forearms with protection. Bronze greaves guard his shins. He also carries along a bota bag, a necessity for any traveler.

Personality -
Huo is a brash and sometimes hot-headed individual. Some that know him attribute it to youth, although the madame Phrina believes it is something more. And she believes it is an internal driving force more than anything. He can be stubborn to the point that his stubbornness has given new meaning to the word bastard on multiple occasions. Other times he can possess a crude sense of humor, and he may seem a little rough around the edges to outsiders. In particular, he never talks much to Dhaxi, opting to remain silent and indifferent as a means of being defiant. He occasionally expresses his views with a grim scowl and a huff. Although not well read, he understands things such as formalities, courtesies, and codes of honor. The word honor is something that Huo understands in abstract form rather than written form.

He is not quite verbal, but not quite taciturn either. He speaks when he needs to. Those that face him in the arenas know he is a trash talker of the highest caliber. He knows the right buttons to push to rile up his opponents because he understands anger as well as anyone. He can be unnecessarily temperamental and annoyed by the slightest things at times. Others, such as some of the locals that he has befriended in Opynonias know that he is fiercely protective of friends. Betrayal will earn nothing but the deepest of hatred from him.

Though, a darker side exists within him. One who is aware of the apathy and the abyss. That after all the fighting and killing is done, there is nothing left but a void of meaningless. His frustrations have the potential to manifest into cold pragmatism and to be carried out in unbridled and indiscriminate fury. That one day he may succumb to a blinding rage is a fear that lies in his mind buried beneath his hopes and dreams. The biggest dream for him may be finding his parents, but that's more or less a pipe dream to him. Whether or not that will be enough to keep the shadow at bay is unknown. Freedom to live how he chooses would be a better dream, and one of more immediate concern to him.

The fighter relied on his voice to carry his emotions and thoughts better than the theatrics of hand gestures. His only hand gestures formed fists, which were meant more for breaking cheekbones than persuading minds.

Other times there is a level of insecurity that arises from being a slave. Upon leaving Opynonias, he would grow to realize that he lacked knowledge about the world and life, despite his talents as a fighter. This then results in a hopelessness and helplessness that often has him punching until his fists bleed.

Religious Beliefs - He is pragmatic because religion was never something that Dhaxi cared to instruct in him. He has some semblance of belief in the Pantheon.

Education - He can write, but he can not read as well as others. Most of education throughout childhood concerned serving and fighting. Reading and writing were never of importance to him. That's not to say that he has not learned manners.

Sexual Orientation - Heterosexual.

History -

The slave known as Huo came from a village that was razed to the ground shortly after he was born to two Osu people. They gave him the name of Tiexin (Tee-ay-shin). He does not know much about his parents. Huo's father fled with the boy in a caravan that wandered the steppes. His father sold him at the age of nine to Kurthal, a slavemaster who raised him for two years. Kurthal taught him how to do housework like any other menial slave. Kurthal hoped to sell him off to a Niessen or Sivyne noble one day. One night, raiders attacked their camp and slew Kurthal while they took Tiexin captive. He became the servant of a bandit by the name of Penth who taught him how to fight.

They rested in an oasis where they met another slaveowner by the name of Dhaxi (Doc-shi), who would become his current slave owner somewhere in Syakh. Dhaxi made the proposal for Tiexin, and Penth, upon seeing his opulence and formidable retinue, relinquished the boy.

Dhaxi raised and trained the boy. His training was strict and harsh on him compared to Penth. When Tiexin reached his prime for growth at fifteen, Dhaxi poured whatever pain and misery he could into the boy to sculpt him from the potential that he saw into the gladiator that he wanted to see. It was for years that Tiexin suffered until one day the boy burst into a fit of rage and killed Dhaxi's body guards with fire that he had drawn forth from himself. He attempted to escape, but Dhaxi's right hand man stopped the boy. Dhaxi seemed fearful at first, but then he turned calculating. Dhaxi's overly manipulative nature combined with Tiexin's naivete and ignorance prevented Tiexin.

Dhaxi renamed, or rather rebranded, Tiexin as Huo, which meant "fire" in Osu. The slavemaster marketed him as one of his best fighters. They traveled the arena circuit since with Dhaxi's purse and persuasion a tight yoke on Huo, but none so tight as one of Dhaxi's agents who always kept an eye on the boy. The only thing Huo seeks now is release from this life because it is the only thing he has ever known. Though, Huo had not planned for what would happen after a successful escape, fate may have other ideas.

So begins...

Huo's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
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ACT II

27th Breh

The three week journey across the Meroan sea proved idyllic and without much to see except sea. However, on one particular night, a giant bolt of lightning could be seen for leagues upon leagues away from the ship. It lasted for more than a few seconds. The sound was near defeaning when it struck.

Everyone had thought that the sky would begin to fall as grey clouds converged that night. They all tensed and watched what would eventually pass. However, the clouds began to dissipate only seconds after they formed.

No one spoke of that night.

The waters became warmer and the days became sunnier as they neared ever closer to the land of Syakh.

-

The being known as Galtros Penrimore awoke in his cabin, not too early nor too late. He craned his neck and made a few circular motions to hear it pop. Then he stretched, a couple of more pops. Then he clenched his left fist in front of him and willed a blue-grey flame to burst just as quickly as he dispersed the magic.

He took both of his hands and placed them around his jaw. Then he proceeded to dislocate it. A loud pop could be heard.

He looked in his mirror. Nothing but a skull.

After he tied up the last of his waist sashes and belts he looked in the mirror again, and the face of a handsome gent began to emerge. He was no longer Galtros Penrimore, for he had become Paecus Ixipas. One of his many alter egos and disguises.

He stepped out into the daylight and watched as the entire crew of the Flying Dwarf moved about getting things ready. Boxes and other crates were dumped with care onto available barges.

He faced the city's seaside facade, where a renovation project from years before had altered its old ramshackle houses and apartments. The many dwellings and key city centers such as the market district began to raise ever higher up the slopes of the city. The Sheikh Kartal's palace stood at the very far end of the city, and it stood highest on the crest of the hill. Ixipas recognized the domed structure even from aboard the ship. It represented elegance and splendor. At night, the street lanterns of the city all converged to the palace.

Ixipas waited to see if the old man was up and about. The magic was still strong and luring his thirst.

No sight of him, Ixipas decided to get on the next available barge to the city. If anything happened, he could still feel the magic from leagues away. Unless of course, a stronger source appeared.

-

"Alright ye dusty lot, get off me damned ship," Eiraendar piped from behind the helm.

The briny wind washed up against their faces like the salty blue against the aft of the Flying Dwarf.

The second mate Ravel dropped anchor. Light barges helmed by fishermen helped ferry people off the ship. The large fabric sails of the giant galleon folded up.

Huo stepped out onto the deck, he'd been put to work swabbing the decks and running errands for most of the journey. Considering that he was a fighter, the dwarf captain could not utilize his talents to their fullest extent. A mutiny would have been nice to put down, but a dwarf ship captain had his ways of maintaining order.

Huo made friends with a few of the crew besides the Captain and they drank on some nights. He had met a few others who escaped from the Colosseum. Two of them were gladiators, Antius Geminus, the self-styled Magus of the Gemini, and Danairia Feyn, the drunkard of Kes. He had seen them in the arena before, familiar faces.

The former brought a friend along as well, a red haired mage with burning cheeks and frozen eyes. They seemed to keep themselves as those of the magically adept were so inclined to do.

The latter proved to be a loquacious addition, but made no particular mention of her past life. Huo never bothered to ask either.

A young black smith named Caspian also complimented a few folks who had lived and worked near him. Caspian worked in the colosseum to finish his apprenticeship, and he completed it the night before they left. All of them managed to pay for their fares, Huo was the only one who worked for his.

He drank and ate with them, but they seemed to be quite distant.

Each driven by their own fate.

The fighter managed a nice bronze from hours working under the three suns. He looked at Eiraendar with a nod, their agreement complete. He earned his voyage without coin.

Moments later he sat on a barge with a couple of more blue foamy waves lapping between him and his destiny, the place from his dreams. He watched a school of threadfins glide alongside until they dispersed. He knew he sought answers, but to what questions?

They reached the city where he saw nothing familiar. The humans here, their complexions, were different from what he grew accustomed to back in Opynonias. These were Dhaxi's people, the D'homani. He watched the thawbs and kufis on men's heads bob up and down as they moved through sloping streets. Some women walked past him, faces covered by niqabs and shemaghs of various colors. Other women were barely covered at all. Niessen travelers and Sivyne merchants all met his face. He spotted a few people who had pointed ears, and he took them to be elves even though he was unsure.

He watched a felidin, Tumhathil's people, with long legs walk by. She gave a seductive glance at him with smizing eyes before walking off.

Not only were there felidins, but also lizardmen, of which he had only seen once back in Opynonias. They called them Tharonians because they hailed from the desert of Tharon.

Cows whipped their tails at the flies. Donkeys, mules, and other pack animals herded merchants' wares. A camel strutted by on its lazy legs, chewing on a twig, led by the hand of its owner. Shops sold a variety of goods such as swords from Dessor and silk linens supposedly from Jilel. Huo smelled the scent of various spices, sweet and sour mixing in the air from the spice bazaar. While herbalists beckoned him to their canopied tent for a look. Fresh baked bread made him hunger, but not so much as to wander from where he needed to be.

He wandered through the bazaars and markets an outsider. Many looked at his face where his Osu features were very distinct. He asked people whether they knew where the White Sphinx was, some shook their heads, others did not understand him, and others merely brushed past him.

After awhile of walking he finally found the place he sought, the White Sphinx. The creature adorned the establishment's storefront at the uppermost level over its third floor balcony. He stepped inside.

The setting changes from Khi'ir to Universe of Skaerra

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus
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The Tlamani, known as 'The Drunkard of Kes' finds her way up from the cabin with nothing on her mind...

"..FfffFU~CK ME~do I need a drink!"

...but staying true to her title.
The ride was long and, for the most part, incredibly boring. For the first day, she hid herself from the ones mostly dressed in slave's attire, who seemed to exchange two of their number for a new face she had not yet seen. An Osu man. A tan skin with a blonde head of hair that lays aft, extending back, like a lion's mane. At first, she believed him to be their leader, on account of his gear, but he did not seem to stick together with his group as tightly as the other four so she changed her image of him to be either a separate operative or a slave fighter who earned his freedom. She would have to hide as best as she could to remain hidden from the perception of her persuers. It would be difficult but Danairia was confident.

'It's fine. I'm great at hiding! Good luck seeing a shadow, bitches!' She thought to herself.

After Danairia had been spotted, not 7 minutes later, and nearly drop kicked the chest of the tall one in the blacksmith's clothing before getting restrained by the Osu, she was finally able to get a better look upon the group of people who had followed her and learn more about them...like, that they actually were not following her and it was Danairia's imagination the entire time...
...Yeah, that was more than a little embarrassing...

The poor man who Danairia almost flattened was actually in fact a lad and, now that she was closer, it became quite obvious to her. He had clear, smooth skin and an overall young appearance, accented by his messy dark blonde hair and quite the attention-grabbing pair of deep green eyes. His muscle tone was the obvious result of the life of a blacksmith. The others called him Caspian.
He would become her main source of entertainment on the voyage, as it seemed he and the crew were the only others who really spoke and his personality reminded her of a much younger Hans...

A million times more surprising was the old man of their group, known by the name of Antius, who was ALSO only but a little older than a-fucking-lad somehow. Danairia could not help but feel uncomfortable around him, for his appearance reminded her of her dad, yet if she went by how old she was to humans, she could scold him like she was his mother...and, to be honest, that was a rather frightening thought to her.
He too had blonde hair and green eyes and the apparent over abundance of such traits had begun leaving Danairia self-conscious of her own regular brown-to-brown combo.

The young one with the funny looking head of red-who Danairia maintains is DEFINITELY an archer of some kind-seems to be fond of the physically-confused one and adept at magic, though it is difficult to gauge exactly how powerful she is. When revealed by her hair, her face expresses itself rather clearly with a handful of freckles scattered about its surface. A pair of lime-

Really?...You all wanna play this game?

-green eyes also seem to dart abound the cabin at the drop of a hat. Literally too! At one point Danairia tested the theory by slapping the cap off of a sailor's head and watching her as it hit the ground. As predicted, her eyes instantly checked to see what had happened! Everyone else-sailor included-had also looked at the elf but torch-head looked and that was all that mattered! Experiment successful!
She was called Lir.

Finally, there was the Osu man with the blonde mane from before. To Danairia's surprise, his eyes were brown and, unlike what would be expected of a former slave, seemed to exhibit a passion within them. She could not help but notice the Osu's gauntlets and boots, both a bright red, highly contrasting with his linen outfit. There had to be more underneath but it was not all that important. It was not as though she would have to fight any of them.
...Okay, maybe that depended on how much drink she would be allowed to partake in...
Regardless, the man was called Huo. It seemed he was earning his passage, as he worked during the day yet he did not interact with the others much, as he only seemed to drink with the others before heading off by himself the rest of the night.
Not that Danairia was TOO much better, as she typically kept to herself until drinks were involved, but at least she got along greatly with the crew!

"Hey, Short-Stout-and-Sturdy!"

The Captain of the ship seems to noticeably flinch at the sound of Danairia's voice before turning around to listen to whatever it is she has to say.

"If yarr evur i'need of an extrah swabee in teh forseeable moons," Danairia begins in the most terrible impression of a sea-dog Eiraendar has ever heard in his life. "I be adrift at sea in a dingy withou' oars! Y'arg?"

...

Eiraendar attempts to find the exact words he is looking for but seems to visibly have trouble with it, as it takes him about six seconds to even respond at all.
"Danairi-"
"-Y'arg?"

..."Danairia, ye have but two possible ways of getting off me ship: either ye climb down an' we ferry ye' the rest o' the way t' port er we throw y'overboard to drown yerself," the dwarvish captain says, completely serious.

Daniria frowns and crosses her arms for a moment before declairing to everyone on deck, "I be castin' off then!"

This would not be the first time The Drunkard of Kes has graced the port city of Khi'ir. Her work has brought her to the land of Syakh a handful of times previously, guarding shipments of furs, slaves and other goods of luxury before returning with the shipments of spices and silks. Merchant ships in the region were prime targets for piracy so business was always good for mercenaries but it was potentially some of the most dangerous work for one. It was best to take jobs guarding such mechandice sparingly.
Sailors often mixed well with the likes of mercenaries, even if there were a few that believed in bad luck being brought by hiring sell-swords to protect their cargo, they were equally hard and equally-mouthed men, just with different talents. Wherever you found large amounts of sailors, you found large amounts of mercenaries and, wherever you found large amounts of sailors and mercenaries, you found taverns. All Danairia had to do was walk into town and pick one. However, she did not want some random 'dirty-ass shack, sellin' a choice o' goat milk and piss-water.' What she wanted was quality, so she went looking for it. It took her a little beyond the docks but she felt it worth the effort.

The place had not looked the same as before. The streets seemed to be somewhat decorated. A conversation with one of the local mercenaries quickly taught Danairia that it indeed was no regular day. It was the local holiday known as 'Syel'Breh' but that is all the mercenary knew. She could have pressed someone else for an answer but she only really cared about the basic knowledge of 'today is not a regular day'.

Further into the city she walked, trying to find a proper place to drink-and now possibly eat-but nothing seemed to meet the standards which she craved, so she began to backtrack a little and try around the local bazaar but all that seemed to do was annoy her. Jewels, swords, linens-it mattered not. They were over-priced and Danairia was not stupid enough to buy such good so close to the port of a major trading hub. The search seemed hopeless until:

Whoa...déjà vu...

Danairia was quite unfamiliar with the area but it seemed as though she had previously visited a particular street she was approaching...so, doing as she always does when she is curious, the elf endulges the feeling and follows her memory down the street. It was the most odd feeling, as she knew she recognized the route she was on but had never once visited the place.
She had to follow her instinct. Her legs began to increase their pace. She took longer strides and quickly found herself darting through the crowd; faster and faster until...!

Danairia halted in her tracks. It suddenly became clear to her. Her dream, reality, it was all in tune with her memory and where she stood; what she looked at...

"...The White Sphinx..."

She would not dare keep herself from entering.

The setting changes from Universe of Skaerra to Khi'ir

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Masten "Mace" Kurran
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It had been a trying few days. The effects of Magi's Bane had him barely able to leave his room for extended periods of times. If it wasn't for Lir, he wasn't sure if he would have been able to function. His health had only returned to normal the day before and he still didn't trust his stomach to handle anything more than simple grains and vegetables. As he stepped aboard the deck of the ship, he eyed his traveling companions.

The captain didn't draw his attention too much. He seemed typical of his kind. He didn't care what your business was as long as your gold was good. Antius never thought he'd be so grateful to run into such an individual, but he was a lifesaver in Opynonias. Without him taking their coin, they would have been captured or dead. As for older-looking gentleman... Mace's very prescence made him feel odd. There was powerful magic at work with him and if Antius hadn't been sick, he'd have investigated further.

For now, he approached the captain and bowed his head.

"I thank you for your assistance. Your service was expensive, but you did everything we asked of you."

He looked out at the port. He had never been to Khi'ir before, but he knew of its wealth and subsequent danger. Still, he could not help but be excited. He shook his head as Danairia took off. How she survived so long, he had no idea. He spotted Caspian, who had a pensieve look on his face and then looked at Lir who stood beside him.

"We should follow her before she gets into trouble. I know her type. Caspian, you look troubled. If you wish, you can speak with me on the way.

With another nod at the captain, he stepped out into port.

"Now if I were the aptly named "Drunkard of Kes", where would I go?"

The setting changes from Khi'ir to The White Sphinx

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Sanvi
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"You fight when I tell you to fight. You eat when I tell you to eat. Or I lash you. Do you understand me boy?"

Huo said nothing, he just stared straight into his tormenter's eyes. He saw no love there. Dhaxi was not his father. He had no idea what his father looked like.

Dhaxi whipped him. One lash. Two lashes.

Twenty lashes.

"I asked you a question. You answer it or I lash you. Do you understand?"

Huo understood.

The twenty first lash. The twenty second lash.

Thirty lashes.

"What'll it be good sir?"


"Wh-" Huo snapped from his trance.

"I said eyes up here, you perv," a young Epori with ears long and hung behind her blonde hair stood in front of him.

Technically, in front of his face was the chasm called her cleavage. Her eyes alone looked unamused. Together with the ensemble of her face, though, she looked like relaxed grace. In another life, they could have been a couple.

"I'm sorry...I...blanked," Huo said, almost stumbling to find the damn words.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," the hare strutted off, certainly pissed.

The tables were full, and the glasses were empty. All the while chants of song and dance opened among the raucous patrons. Khi'ir proved to be more like the Colosseum with its mixed crowd from all sorts of creeds. Opynonias could call itself cosmopolitan, but it stood nowhere near the scale of Khi'ir.

The fighter found plenty of drunken and bashful dwarves. A few orcs joined the rowdy bunch to make an odd sort of merry. They had not broken into fight yet.

A mixed crowd of Tharonians, Epori, D'homani, and Felidins sat playing cards in another corner. One of the Tharonians looked tense until the opposing Felidin showed his cards. The Tharonian smiled and revealed his.

The result left a third cheering, a third laughing, and a third shaking their heads disappointed. They reshuffled the cards for another round while the coins flowed from one hand to the next.

He saw an orc conversing with a Kaleth girl.

Huo looked around and realized he could no longer distinguish the differences between the reality and the dream as parts of the latter already started erasing from his memory and merging with his reality.

He took a seat at an empty table.

Everyone else wore very decorative and ornate pieces of armor while well-crafted weaponry rested by their seats or hung from their waists. Were they gladiators as well? No, surely they were something else.

Sometimes he cursed himself for his ignorance, but then he thought of his years under Dhaxi. Did it make it more right and true to blame his slavemaster?

To have made it this far on his own, that must have counted for something.

In the ways of the world, he felt piss poor ignorant. He never knew that the faces and people he had met in his only home, the colosseum, had taught him much.

His years as a slave fighter taught him how to fight and acquire a desire to defeat a foe. A foe could be anything, a person or an obstacle. Perhaps it was the only lesson that really needed learning in life.

He glanced at an empty corner, destitute, perhaps a place for pillows. It seemed to be where poets or storyweavers may have sat to entertain. It seemed an old rug and an empty low table where patrons would later sit and smoke from hookah pipes replaced the elegance of oral poetry. Rather, the stage had shifted to another part of the tavern.

In through the door of the tavern, who would have thought, none other than the Drunkard of Kes. He was surprised and not surprised all the same. That she would be stuck with such a sobriquet and find her way to the tavern was no surprise.

While voices spoke low, he glanced around and his eyes fell upon locks of golden hair. A woman. Beside her stood a two foot tall mouse.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Sanvi
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Jolloc watched as Sanvi's past employer, 'Milo,' walked by and settled a grip on her wrist. The orc felt ready to intervene, but he chose to observe the exchange between the two waiting for the violence to ensue before he struck a blow.

"You are the one that's been driving me around for weeks with no profit! I am not sulking! I am properly angry!"

"Let's not discuss this here," the man called 'Milo' cast a brief, but scornful, glance at him.

Jolloc could perceive the man's discomfort, so he flared his nostrils and snorted in a threatening manner before him.

"Just come with me. I might have something for you."

"No, I've got myself a job, thank you."

"A job? For him?" Milo dismissed the orc as an afterthought, "I wouldn't recommend it."

Jolloc clenched his fist ready to pound the man's face in if he heard the man utter any of the following, "savage," "greenskin," "barbarian," or any other derivative that described him as less than civilized. Sure, he was not above throwing a punch, but 'twas to defend his honor. Surely that was enough to remain civilized? Before the employer continued, he chose to give up, which surprised the orc and made him reconsider his anger just then.

"So, what would you need me to do?" Sanvi recalled Jolloc back to their conversation.

The orc looked at her and smiled as though he had forgotten he had underbite fangs.

"It's...complicated, but I think you're quite suited to it. I think my employer would be able to better explai-..."

The orc nodded in the direction of a far corner of the establishment. There sat a solemn hooded woman perhaps waiting for fate and destiny to converge. That such a convergence became strange and peculiar seemed lost on the hooded elf woman for a moment while Jolloc cocked a brow at a somewhat brute-of-a-Tlamani making her way toward his employer.

Jolloc smiled at Sanvi, "Just one sec, I think she needs my help right now..."

-

Huo stared at the mouse, he had never seen a gigantic rat before in his life. His attention, though, shifted to the woman, who gave him pause.

My name is...

He felt his mind break for a moment.

Like pieces of a puzzle, the fractured dream began to repiece itself from the thousand shards etched in the depths of his memory. Everything made sense. He seemed lost in the dream. The Osu exhaled after what seemed like eternity, just in time to catch up with things unfolding.

"Ladies! Easy! Ladies...please," Bertholdt the muscum begged, his tiny furry paws held up as he strove to defend the elf maid without fear.

Doubtful they could do anything other than be smothered for their adorableness and softness.

On one side stood an elf by the name of Danairia, who brought a sense of disaster wherever she went, defiant to all things worth and not worth defying it seemed. She looked near haggard and eager for a fight. Though slender of frame, she may have possessed an inner kind of strength perhaps the equal of any of the braided barbarians present, or the beard-heavy dwarves for that matter.

On the other stood another elf by the name of Maevra Rhassaira, who possessed no greater stake in belligerence other than out of necessity for the preservation of another life. She stood arrayed in a dull cloak, no doubt hiding the autumn green scales that layered the intricate breastplate passed down to her. Like Danairia, she too had been awhile away from a good fight, but whilst the former seemed juvenile, the latter considered herself controlled and disciplined. Maevra recognized the other woman to be an elf, Tlamani no less.

She spoke with her elven arc blade still pointed at Danairia, "Even with all the dragon teeth in the world, you're still not my type."

She cocked her head to the side and continued, "I see you are one of Thalasor's kind. What business have you with milady?"

Caspian watched them, the cheeriness of the room fell by a tinge, a noticeable tinge. They spoke in tongues he did not understand.

She's bat-shit crazy... Caspian dared not utter his thoughts about his friend?

The blacksmith's frenzied eyes darted between the hooded woman, Danairia, the other elf woman, back to Antius and Lir. Other thoughts entered the fray in his ear while his mind raced, but they now punctured the pregnant silence amidst the ale-stenched air.

"A rather interesting turn of events at an otherwise ordinary tavern, wouldn't you agree Kade?"

"Quite, milady. Let's have a look see as the plot thickens!"

The entire tavern seemed to settle into stillness as all eyes fell on this particular assortment of characters.

As if drawn by nature to break the ice, Jolloc sauntered in, "And whaddaweh have here?"

Both of his hands rested at the hilts of his swords buckled at his waist.

"Oh, Jolloc thank the gods, this bitch here went batshit crazy," Bertholdt cried out, he flinched when he looked at Danairia, afraid that the she-wolf of an elf woman would rip off his well-groomed whiskers.

"Beautiful lady elf one," Jolloc nodded at Maevra before he turned to Danairia, but averted her scowl, "And...not as beautiful...but still pretty decent lady elf two..."

"Ladies, please,"–the orc placed four fingers on Maevra's blade, pushed it down, and whispered in his most enticing voice to date– "Let's not start a scene..."

"Antius," Lir looked at her wizard friend with imploring eyes, concerned that the situation had done much more than silence the crowd, "I think we should do something..."

I guess it's my time... Caspian felt ready to be a hero, he reached to unravel the sword wrapped in cloth. Nevermind that he had to unwrap it first, or the fact that he never wielded it, or the fact that he never wielded any weapons for that matter.

Alas, the moment was not meant to be as he paused and watched Huo.

The Osu strode up to the soon to be brawl, for he had taken everything in and seemed to made sense of it. He walked past the others as though they were streams in a waterfall. He stared straight into the green eyes of the elf maiden who sat quiet the entire time, he measured her as he was sure that she measured him.

Then he turned to Danairia, "'Dana', right?" and he smirked, "I thought I was the hot-headed one."

Huo glanced at the other people he knew in the tavern, "Looks like...we all got a bit in common here, don't we?"

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Pandemonium. That was what Danairia brought to any situation she was in. Antius had rubbed elbows with those types in the Coliseum. They rarely survived long, cut down as they were when charged whatever it was that pissed them off. He listened to the exchange in elvish and although he did not catch all of the exchange, he caught the gist of it. His companion was one wrong word away from starting an altercation. He nodded in concern at Caspian's growing distress. His friend merely voiced the distress he was now feeling. Things weren't supposed to be happening this way.

He was about to respond to Lir's plea that he intervene when Huo arrived and attempted to reign in the situation himself. He smiled slightly at his former classmate.

"It seems that not everyone we picked up on our journey is irrational."

He stepped forward, tapping his staff down to direct attention to himself.

"Indeed. It seems more and more people have had the same dream, nay, vision, as I. I am not a believer in coincidence and neither is Danairia, to her credit, though I do not, as a rule, respond with a blade and threat when confronted with said coincidence," he noted.

"I would very much prefer that we discuss our situation calmly like grown men or elves or what have you," he said with a wave of a hand before turning his attention to the woman whose face they had all seen in their dreams. He smiled.

"I have been waiting quite a long time to meet you."

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While she was talking with the orc an uproar was raised on the opposite side of the tavern. Sanvi was sure that Milo was somehow involved, but when she turned her gaze towards the group collected around a table, she was assured otherwise. They were all people that she never before saw. And not only that, they weren't even vaguely familiar, like when you get that feeling that about someone you passed on the street but never paid them any attention. No, this group was entirely new. Khi'ir might have been a larger town, but she was here for a couple of weeks already and she always boasted with her perfect recollection of faces and voices.

Sanvi was lost in thought when Jolloc broke off from their conversation abruptly. "Just one sec, I think she needs my help right now..."

He turned his back on her and strode off, looking strangely protective and quite dangerous at that. But that might have been only because of his large physique. Frankly, to Sanvi everyone looked quite large when she stood with both feet on the ground. Which is why she loved being above it so much.

"Hey!" She yelled after the orc, suddenly feeling rudely abandoned there amongst all kinds of filth.

Jolloc just left, not turning back! That was pretty inappropriate in her book, no matter what was his reason. Determent to stop him and give him a piece of her mind, she tried following him. Sadly, it was very difficult to pass through the, now even more crowded, tavern.

"Ugh." Sanvi grunted and did the only thing she knew would get her out of the crown quickly. She stretched her wings.

Patrons around her were pushed, knocked off their feet, and those that still stood recoiled back. Drinks were spilled and a table was overturned. Her wings were the only thing strong about her. Sanvi jumped up, flapped the wings once and was at the table just behind Jolloc. Now, flying in a closed space is a feat. Good thing that the ceiling of the tavern was quite high up, otherwise this would've ended badly. Well, worse than it did. Nevertheless, now she was a step away from the crowd that the orc joined. And it was a colorful crowd indeed!

"Uh, hello." She said, trying to get attention, but her voice was lost in the ruckus.

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Danairia lightly bit her lip, letting it slide back loose as the apparent bodyguard demanded to know what her business was. The tip of the offending blade which pierced the Tlamani's personal space may have been but a couple inches from her lips but her head remained lifted back in defiance as her left hand remained on the pommel of her sword.

"Well, you heard what it was but apparently I have a much more bothersome matter to attend to now..."

The elf completed her statement with the gathering of saliva within her mouth and sharp, quick ejection of the product onto the floor beside her.

Danairia spoke her native tongue like stepping into an old pair of shoes. While they still seemed to fit, they did so somewhat awkwardly. She may have had the pleasure of speaking elvish as a mercenary but it was not nearly as widely accepted of a language as the common tongue and she was not allowed to speak it during her months spent fighting for Kail.

The Tlamani could not tell as to when it had happened but it seemed as though the rowdiness of the White Sphinx had fallen to a murmur. Almost everyone seemed to be watching the scene unfold and, apparently, one found it necessary to join in. An orc.
Before Danairia could even think about who the warrior was though, her thoughts were interrupted.

"Oh, Jolloc thank the gods, this bitch here went batshit crazy," A tiny Muscum man had blurted out from below the two ladies.

"Tell me, rat, how much do you weigh? You look to be just about the perfect size to punt. How many slices of cheese would you want to bet that I could put your furry ass through that fucking window from here with one?"

Danairia points at the opening in the front wall. Her eyes stare down at the large rodent with a look that, if her target could not have guessed her actual lack of interest in the bet winnings before, it certainly conveyed the message now.

This 'Jolloc' character seemed to do a fair job at filtering some of the tension from the air. However, neither of the ladies seemed any more calm than when the Sindrelei bodyguard had her blade little more than a toothpick's distance away from the Tlamani's throat. Though just then, another familiar face seemed to stride through the chaos. He looked at the Sindrelei that Danairia had originally confronted and caused this entire mess with before making the wise crack that he had thought of himself as the most hot-headed of the two. It annoyed the elf but she kept quiet beyond only a huff.

But then he said something...odd...

"Looks like...we all got a bit in common here, don't we?"

"What are you on about, Huo?"

Antius stepped forward to better clarify, though it only seemed to confuse the Tlamani further.

"Indeed. It seems more and more people have had the same dream, nay, vision, as I.-"
"-Wait, what?"

"I am not a believer in coincidence and neither is Danairia, to her credit, though I do not, as a rule, respond with a blade and threat when confronted with said coincidence," he noted.

"-The fuck are you even on about though? What coincidence? You wanna talk shit, I'll coincidentally punch your ass in the throat."

Caspian, having re-wrapped his weapon back up with barely anyone even noticing the poor guy, approached Danairia.

"You had a dream about this place," Caspian says, looking around at the others. "It appears Huo and Antius, as well as myself, have all had the dream as well."

Caspian looks at the Sindrelei bodyguard and confused hooded woman.

"...Okay, maybe not all of us..."

Caspian looks at Danairia who cocks an eyebrow.

"Ooooh..."

Danairia seems to finally get it. She has heard of dream magic before but none so...incognito. It would certainly explain the first dream she had being so...wrong about her character, as she is quite different from any kind of normal. The second dream must have been a result of her thinking about the first, which would explain the better accuracy on the second time around...
But, how did they all get chosen as targets for it? What brought them all there? Why were they brought there? Could that request of the other elf been real? Was it her that brought them there?

Is this everyone who had the dream?

Danairia looked around. First, she looked at Caspian, then the still sitting Sindrelei, then her bodyguard, Huo, Antius, Lir, Jolloc, and then made a special glare down at the rat.

"...That's my bad then..."

Just then though, there was a loud number of crashes, a blur, and a Kaleth stood before everyone in the dim corner of the room, greeting everybody in a quiet voice. Other than her humongous bird-like wings, every one of her features, it seemed, were small. She was short, looking to be only a little over 5' tall. Her torso in general was already small but her waist surpassed it, being downright petite. Even her face seemed particularly small with her red eyes taking up the most space on it.

...
"Hot damn-do I need a drink," Danairia said more to herself than anyone around her.

This bitch can wait-where the hell is the lady that took my order?

Danairia, almost immediately after wondering it to herself, found the girl...among the mess of people on the floor where the Kaleth girl had previously been located.
Danairia sighed at the revelation that her drink had not likely survived and then sighed even deeper as a particularly small Epori service bartender had begun making her way through the premises toward the new face among them. The Tlamani quickly looked at the winged girl and breathed, "this is all your fault" before calmly pushing past Huo and walking toward the approaching threat.

"Just hurry up with our business in here and update me later! Remember me as I was!" Danairia calls back as she exits the general area of the corner.

The approaching Epori quickly finds herself face-to-face with the Tlamani who, despite any amount of protest, grabs her left wrist, bends over, wraps her arm around the waitress' left thigh, and picks her up onto her shoulders, carrying her out of the front entrance of the establishment and effectively saving the Kaleth from retribution for the time-being.

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"Fascinating!"

"Indeed my dear Kade!"

"To think that you, my good lad, shared a dream of prophetic proportions. Be strange, the winds of fate."

"My dear, Caspian, you needn't continue to hold us in contempt. What more can we do to prove we are friends?"

"Not much Milady, not much for spirits trapped in a sword."

"Oh hush, you fop. We are merely objects and anchors of fate, nothing more."

"Have we learned so much as to resign ourselves to the three weavers, milady?"

Caspian bit his lip, for he could still hear the voices of the sword. His frustration came from the fact that no one else could hear his sword yet. It felt like some kind of curse, nay, sounded like some kind of curse. Their chattering annoyed him, interrupting news that he actually felt important. The worse part was that if he tried to respond in anyway, the others would look at him as though he were mad.

Danairia spat and left the group, mayhaps fuming or defumed. Huo knew not. Maevra retracted her blade with precision and swiftness. No sooner than once her blade had been sheathed, her scabbard disappeared behind her cloak made of layered leaves as thick as a canopy. Huo considered her to be adept at the blade, he knew it would be best to watch for her.

"This is your fault!" Danairia had pointed back at the kaleth girl who joined the party.

Lir nudged Antius, her eyes wide as she watched Danairia, "Are all elves like her? Or is she defective? So much for 'discussing our situation calmly.'"

The Drunkard intercepted the Epori and exited while baring the load of the smaller-bodied Epori waitress over her shoulder. Much to the surprise of everyone. Customers carrying waitresses out of taverns meant bad business.

The Osu wondered what Danairia intended to do with the Epori girl. The same one who bore an enmity against him just moments ago when he stared at her...assets, but, in his defense, that was through no fault of his own.

"Hey!" the rotund D'homani barkeep shouted and ran after Danairia out the door.

Caspian looked on astonished, "I thought Dana was only jesting about the whole 'Drunkard of Kes' thing..."

Jolloc, the disheveled orc, thought aloud while half-grinning, "If I did what she did, you'd see my head on a pike."

"Well, then maybe you should do that," Maevra's quip stung a little more than the tavern's ale because of her casual tone.

Her words, though, returned everyone's attention to the necessary matters.

"Maevra," the hooded elf woman reprimanded her bodyguard and reminded her, "Jolloc is in our service."

"My.." Maevra said with reluctance, "..apologies, your grace."

The orc raised his palms, "No need to apologize. Passive aggressiveness is a sign of affection, or so I'm told."

Though Maevra remained silent, Bertholdt came to her defense.

"I don't...think so," Bertholdt added with perplexity, one black eye shrunken under the crease of his brow, "You made that up just to satisfy your vanity."

"My vanity doesn't need satisfying, and you weren't paid to think, Bert, mouse, whatever the hell you-" Jolloc retorted with a wink.

Bertholdt spat, he held his paws up in a mock southpaw stance, "Okay big guy, you wanna go? I ain't scared o' yas!"

The orc bellowed a laugh, "Right. So you're not scared of an orc, but the sight of that elf chick made your skin crawl."

The mouse remained oblivious to Jolloc's logic, "Your point? Are you saying that orcs are inclined to violence based on their appearance? That's why I should have been scared of you? Or are you saying that because she's a woman, I shouldn't be scared of her? Tut, I find your prejudice quite disturbing."

Jolloc paused for a moment to consider, "To hell with you Bert, your cheese makes you talk too fast."

Before the mouse could reply, the orc was off waving his hand at everyone else in the tavern, "Nothing to see here folks, go back to your lives."

It looked as though that was the very plan. With that, everything resumed its pace, the shenanigans of the tavern lived on undisturbed on these days of festivity. Many drank too much to care about this little group's quirks. Some cared though.

"So we're just gonna ignore what 'wings' here just did?" Lir jabbed a thumb at Sanvi before addressing her directly, "Far be it from me to tell you, but you are in dire need of flying lessons."

"So, like, do you...like...molt?" Caspian asked the winged girl, trying to hold his own in the art of conversing.

Lir shot him an eye of disapproval, "Caspian, seriously?"

The boy cringed, knowing he may have crossed some kind of line.

Huo was no observer, but the orc and the kaleth seemed out of place. The kaleth girl appeared kind of...clumsy. What was her purpose? As for the orc, the tusk mouthed green or black skinned people always represented a threat. However, as Dhaxi often put it, orcs understood civility, which was contrary to an outsider's ingrained idea of their savagery or barbarism.

Dhaxi once said, "The orc, above anyone else, understands survivalism. Numerous calamities have befallen their tribe, yet they still move forward. Proud. Noble. They care less about trivialities, such as how other races perceive them."

The orc exchanged glances with Huo.

"You look like you don't like me much," Jolloc folded his arms.

"No, I'm just always a hard-ass," Huo replied with composure, noting that Jolloc may have been an exception.

Though, he could see that his fangs were smaller, and he had a leaner form than most orcs.

His eyes reverted back to the nameless elf maiden. A silence lingered for a couple of seconds as conversations met the unnatural simultaneous lull.

"Well then?" the Sindrelei guardswoman inquired with a tone sharpened like the elven warblade that she drew at Danairia.

Huo thought the moment seemed surreal. He was never one for detachment from reality. Maybe he still laid in a straw bed somewhere back in Opynonias. Maybe he had long failed to appear for an afternoon bout. A bout where the sun beat against his naked back, while the hot sand crept in between his toes. He waited any moment to be interrupted by Dhaxi's yell.

No. If the elven guardswoman's voice did not arouse him out of his slumber from within a dream itself, then this was no dream to be awoken from. This was it.

The elf woman's green eyes ran the length of Huo's form and nodded. She did the same with Antius and Caspian.

Huo considered the elf woman to be mysterious and observant. Danairia did much to pierce the veil, though perhaps more with bluntness than tact. More than pierce it, though, she tore a huge gaping hole.

The Osu fighter crossed his arms, "You've already heard our story. We came because of a dream. Who are you? And this time you don't get to worm your way out."

"Excuse me?" Maevra perceived what she heard to be a threat and inched closer, her chin jutting forward at Huo, "Watch your tongue, pup. Do you know who you speak to with such insolence?"

Huo glanced at her, at any moment he could will a flame to erupt from his palms and cover his fists. He would be ready, he had seen her sword. He knew how to handle himself against her.

The Osu ignored Maevra as he spoke straight to the elf maiden, "I had a dream of a woman. An elf woman. Sitting in this very same tavern. She seemed desperate. No. Felt desperate. She needed help. I was compelled to help. But that was just a dream. Do you believe in fate?"

At the mention of desperation, dreams, and fate, the elf maiden nodded, "I've heard enough."

The elf woman raised her hands, which were covered by richly embroided green gloves. She pulled back the hood that covered her head. She revealed a pale skinned elvish face, short but pointed elvish ears, green blinking eyes, and soft unassuming lips. Her golden locks of hair fell to about her shoulders. She pulled the robe off a little further to reveal a finely woven dark green tunic with a few ruffles along the collar.

"My name is Anundhel Eressea, I am the Princess of Alheras," The Princess paused, "But before we continue, might it be better that we wait for your friend first? She has a stake in this as well, it would seem."

"She does...unfortunately," Lir pined with annoyance.

"I'll say this, that was pretty tactless of our friend," Caspian pronounced, "So I apologize on her behalf because, from what I can tell, she doesn't look like the type to apologize," and he bowed.

Huo gave a solemn nod at Caspian in agreement, "Yeah. We'll wait then."

He had the patience.

The setting changes from The White Sphinx to Universe of Skaerra

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Sanvi could only stand and watch as the Epori waitress that was a second ago striding towards her in fury, was now slung over a shoulder and taken outside. There was a moment of silence. Then someone asked "what...?" Then someone laughed. And the noise resumed. The barkeep didn't seem very pleased with the result, and after shouting angrily after the elf, he turned on Kaleth, who just shrugged. He would've probably done something more, was he not overcome with customers a moment later.

"Thanks?" Sanvi murmured more to herself than the elf who went through the doors and was just about to address Jolloc, when the people from the crowd finally noticed her.

"So we're just gonna ignore what 'wings' here just did?" That was clearly spoken towards her. She didn't appreciate it, but had no time to respond as the person now addressed her directly. "Far be it from me to tell you, but you are in dire need of flying lessons." Now that was over the top. Flying was about the only thing Sanvi excelled at.
"I am a perfectly capable flyer." She responded, trying to contain her anger. It would do her no good now. "I would appreaciate it if you-"
"So, like, do you...like...molt?" Interrupted again. Now by the young guy who clumsily stumbled over his words. What kind of an absolutely personal question was that! She knew that other races were improper, humans especially, but she didn't realize that they would go to this extent. Sanvi felt her cheeks fill with color.
"And do you change clothes?" She asked the guy, her teeth clenched. Then she took a deep breath to calm down. It worked. "I would appreciate it if you would return my employer back to me, we were in the middle of a conversation." And she gestured towards the orc, just to clear the confusion.

The setting changes from Universe of Skaerra to The White Sphinx

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"Are all elves like her? Or is she defective? So much for 'discussing our situation calmly.'" Lir commented, nudging Antius slightly at their mutual acquaintance's actions. He suppressed a sigh. Why she had received the vision, he had no idea, but he suspected it was because she was in position to escape the coliseum as well. To tell the truth, he rather thought he was taking in the revelation that the elf from their dream was a princess rather well. He supposed that had something to do with his upbringing and the fact that there were so many new personalities to take in that he could take his mind off the shock of meeting royalty in a seedy tavern nowhere near her people.

"Danairia might need a leash if we are to spend any amount of time in civilized company, I am afraid," he snarked lightly before frowning in Caspian's direction.

"You meet a fetching young woman and the first thing you ask is if she molts? At this rate, you will never know the pleasure of a female's embrace," he teased lightly. He eyed the orc that was apparently the kaleth's employer but said nothing. They might talk another time, but now, there was royalty to attend to.

"Well, our final companion is here, Your Grace. I am honored that you have chosen us. I am sure you have quite a tale to tell us."

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[co-written with Captain Awesome and almostinsane]

The card game between the Tharonians and Felidins continued in the opposite corner. A few candles and lanterns combed the darkness that bathed the tavern. Every so often a newcomer would open the door and the outside light would wash all of the shadows away. The orcs and dwarves continued in drunken stupor trying to out drink each other, but neither group succeeded. Their faces marked with merriment and carelessness.

Danairia rejoined the party from what appeared to be a confrontation outside. The door swung shut behind her with its creak. Her face looked like a wreck, then again when was it ever not? Huo wondered if she always needed to get into a fight before she could do anything else. He was quite annoyed, but felt it pointless to voice his vexation. Did something happen between her and the barkeep and waitress? Considering that neither of the two returned. Something happened.

"What took yo-...nevermind, I'm not even going to bother," Huo shook his head and relaxed his posture when he saw that the elven guardswoman had done the same.

Caspian took the moment to unstrap the Dragoneater's sword from his back. He had no desire to carry their weight if they were going to invade his thoughts. A burden, though off his shoulders, remained in his mind. When he set the sword aside, part of the fabric covering peeled open revealing part of an ebon steel blade with hard etchings.

Antius eyed the blade, a curious look on his face. So many mysteries had fallen into his lap. He could not wait to unravel them all.

Once everyone of their group had gathered, Princess Anundhel began in an earnest and clear tone, "I'm sure you've all met Maevra already, she is a guard of my household," she gestured to her guardswoman, an imposing brown haired warrior with a stormy scowl.

"Wonder how anyone could have ever guessed that," Danairia said, in a sarcastic undertone.

"You must forgive her for being forward. She is sworn to protect me with her life. No small task, I posit," the Princess looked to Danairia, who blinks through the duration of a shrug.

"The circumstances of how our meeting came to be, 'tis extraordinary," The Princess paused to reflect, "Where did you all come from?"

"Dessor," Caspian replied, "Specifically, Opynonias, but that's just us."

She nodded, believing that the circumstances of one's origin did not determine their destiny.

The Princess returned to her main point, "Far to the west of here, lies a realm known as Alheras, of which my father is lord. I have lived there all my life. We elves prefer seclusion within our forests. Rarely do any of us leave except for diplomatic and economic matters," her eyes touched briefly on Danairia before leaving.

The Tlamani bit her lip, noticeably annoyed at something as Anundhel continued on.

"A plague, perhaps arcane in nature, we know not for certain, has poured forth into our homeland. We call it the Red Wind, for it bears no heralds of its coming. Those that the plague touches are afflicted with red growths upon their skin. The growths spread across their bodies, while their minds descend into madness. They become savage, and lose their identity to the disease. Eventually they wither and die..."

Lir stifled a gasp. Huo maintained a glare with grimness. Danairia, sensing that she will be there for a fair amount of time, sighed as she pulled out one of the chairs of the table beside her and brought it around, sitting down with her arms resting upon the backrest. Antius, meanwhile, stroked his chin, an intrigued look upon his face.

The Princess spoke, ill at ease as could be seen, "Thus far we have failed to contain its spread through our realm. Our most complex remedies, capable of curing any ailments that would leave any man or beast bedstricken, useless before its onslaught. Our most potent healing magicks rendered ineffective. We can only slay them before the disease spreads. The destruction of elfkind was never more apparent."

"Even the Tlamani are threatened," Maevra mentioned.

Despite their offputting first impressions, they could at least share some common ground. They were elves after all, descendants of the first. Regardless of their names and cultures, they were the same. This was Maevra's way of extending a possible olive branch.

Caspian glanced at the Drunkard of Kes. Her expression was the same as it has been the entire time they had been listening, though she seemed to sit just a little lower in her chair than the last time he looked at her. There was also an erie quiet about the Tlamani.

Lir's thoughts began to circle and wander. Was the Red Wind somehow connected to the things she saw in the Academy? She cursed herself for not staying long enough to find out. It would have helped their present situation.

Antius's mind raced through the spiraling possibilities. He was no healer. His magic was brute force if he had to admit it. He would be no help in devising a cure but then, neither would the others.

Huo knew it was no mere exaggeration. It was the truth, cold and hard. He saw it in her eyes. She had the same impassioned look that people with their back against a corner often had. The Princess retrieved a small brown leather-bound tome tucked away within her coat. She continued speaking as she began to flip through the ink-touched pages.

"I have sought to find a cure through the alchemical arts, but such a path is...rarely tread by my people, much less by a Princess of a realm dwindling by the weeks. Yet, it is the path untread that often makes a difference, does it not?"

"Preaching to the choir," Jolloc jabbed a pinky in his ear.

"It pains me that I had to part from my realm, but I felt 'twas my only recourse. Though unpracticed, I consider myself a novice in the, traditionally dwarven, field of study. I have done my best to learn of medicines, both foreign and domestic to my land. I have spent some time gathering texts from world traveling dwarven alchemists, human apothecaries, and physicians of various other races. Which brings us here," Anundhel marked a page within the tome.

All sorts of markings and notes in both common and elvish lined, scribbled, and carved themselves on the goatskin pages of the leatherbound tome. The notations seemed a gibberish of sorts perhaps understandable to the princess alone as an informal shorthand for her studies.

"Fascinating," Antius murmured, resisting the urge to trail his hand along the text.

"Sylas Nimroas, or Sylas 'the Blessed,' as he was apt to go by, was a dwarf adventurer, warrior, and alchemist. He started writing a manuscript for a memoir of sorts, detailing both his studies and his journeys throughout the world titled 'The Wanderings of Sylas the Blessed.'"

"'The Blessed' eh? This Sylas guy sounds bit vain if you ask me," Jolloc the half-orc warrior wiped his nose, a response to which Maevra rolled her eyes and groaned.

"He's actually not that full of himself," Danairia added. Noticing a clear shift in attention from Anundhel to the overly-brash Tlamani-the Princess herself among the people staring at her-Danairia looks around at everybody, taken aback.

"What-I'm not allowed to read?!"

Bertholdt simply spoke what everyone was thinking, "Well, uh...I don't think some of us would o' expected you to be the type t' read..."

"I somehow doubted that she could," Antius murmured to Lir.

Danairia glared at the Muscum she has quickly grown to flat-out despise, "I will roast you alive."

Caspian could not help but wonder about the topic as well. He never had the chance to hire someone to teach him how to read, yet here stood analcoholic mercenary who claimed to have read an entire tome on the adventures of a Dwarvish alchemist.

Danairia, noticing curious eyes still on her, sighed.

"This isn't one of those far-fetched tales of some legendary wandering blade-for-hire. Jobs aren't always going to have action so I needed something to do while I sat around waiting for the day to be over. I often read to pass the time. Three flasks can only get you through so many shuffles before 'Cornered Hearts' gets boring."

Caspian stood in amazement for the second time in less than a minute.

"You have Three flasks on you?! Why would-?"

He stopped himself, having already known the answer to possibly the least thought-out question anyone has ever asked 'The Drunkard of Kes'.

"Because two wasn't enough," she replied, speaking as if it were completely normal as she pulled her cloak back over her shoulder from it's hanging position, first placed there to relieve her of some of the desert heat, and produces a flask from a pocket hidden on the inside. From the pouch on the small of her back she pulled two more. One of the flasks was empty while the other two seemed to have liquid swish around in them.

Her curiosity satisfied, the princess continued, "Silas never finished the manuscript because he perished..."

Jolloc cleared his throat at the mention of the writer's death.

"Any idea why?" Caspian the blacksmith asked, intrigued.

Anundhel shook her head, "Old age? I speculate though, for I've read nothing of the matter. One section of interest to my cause concerns artifacts that, when combined together, may hold the key to immortality. Or at the very least rid my people of this deadly affliction. The ingredients are..."

"Are you saying that your theory is based off of what a dwarf has written?" Lir asked, her eyes narrowed with her increasing skepticism.

"I will admit that I never expected dwarves to be so eloquent with the written word, nor so knowledgeable in refining substances. However, Sylas's book offers me something to work with. For a dwarf, he's quite worldly, a trait that is often sorely lacking..."

"That's near ludicr-" Lir's sarcasm caught Maevra's glare, "...The dwarf...might have some merits."

Bertholdt the muscum shook his head at Jolloc, "First you then her, I'd say you both need to get out more often."

Anundhel wandered through her notes, "The first ingredient comes from a section devoted to this land of the deserts, Syakh. Within that, he spoke of a spring known as the Well of Regrets, a fountain of immortality."

"Immortality? What truth is there in his account? I mean quantifiable truth. I've read a few stories and theories on immortality. Most of it is myth, like the Constellations. You can't seriously believe..." Lir said.

"Let her finish," Bertholdt commanded.

"Quantifiable?" Anundhel paused to think before she shifted her eyes to the red haired girl, "Is magic quantifiable, mage? Do we not believe in magic? It is something that is seldom appreciated and often taken for granted."

"All too often, we mages believe that we know all that there is to know about magic, but once every generation, we are reminded of how little we truly know about our craft or the world. We label and organize, but we only scratch the surface. This could be our chance to discover something that could change the world forever," Antius noted, his eyes gleaming in barely concealed excitement.

"But how is it that a dwarf who studies an art that can barely turn stone into gold know the key to immortality?" Lir inquired, hand cupped over her mouth.

She chose to drop the matter and let her finish. The princess had called her 'mage,' as if she knew. Lir recognized the princess to be rather sharp. Lir recognized the princess to be well-learned compare to the so-called 'nobility' she had known.

"The theory is based on what I've managed to scrape together from knowledge of ancient practices throughout many cultures. Your people," Anundhel glanced at Huo, "...for example, believe that immortality comes from a life of devoted to meditating as a means of self-reflection, fasting as a means of purgation, praying as a means of connecting to the gods..."

At the mention of his people, Huo averted her gaze. He knew nothing of his 'people,' to call them his people. Dhaxi called him an Osu, but the meaning of Osu seemed lost on his mind where it was found in his features. The only thing he remembered about being Osu was his old name, Tiexin, but he rarely called himself that. He remembered Penth, and Kurthal, other D'homani slavers like Dhaxi. For most of his life, he had never been Osu.

Jolloc leaned back against a wall and scratched his chin, "If this 'fountain' offered immortality, then he should have taken a drink from it, then he would never have died at all. That makes no sense."

"Flawless logic," Lir said with sarcasm.

"Someone killed him," Maevra said matter-of-factly without even so much as batting an eye.

"But even then..." the orc did not catch Lir's sarcasm.

Bertholdt cleared his throat and explained, "From what I know, immortality doesn't prevent you from death, it just prolongs your lifespan. You can still take an arrow to the knee and bleed to death. What you're thinking of is invincibility."

The Princess nodded, "Precisely, my adorable friend."

The muscum bristled at that remark.

Anundhel scanned the page with her finger until it landed upon the notes she had written, "'Tis written, 'He who drinks from it shall cease to age a day, nor shall blemishes and wrinkles make his skin their prey, and cherished shall he and his breath be among the fae...' and so on, saith the dwarf. Bertholdt, tell them."

The muscum took his turn at lecturing, "Syakhi tales speak of an ancient culture known as the Zengid Empire, whose streets we have all walked at least once before entering this tavern. The borders of the empire spanned across the desert, a culture of lizardmen. Maybe they're the ancestors to the Tharonians," the mouse nodded at the lizards in the other corner of the establishment, "The Zengi worshipped their kings as the sons of the gods, demigods if you will..."

"Like Ciranthas, you should know of him, yes...?" Maevra pointed the question to Danairia.

"The lord of slumbers?" She laughs. "Hell, I pray to him pretty hard whenever I can," the Drunkard jokingly replies in the flowing speech of her native tongue before switching back to the Common language. "I don't know too much about him other than he's closed off in Yhavann. I never had the pleasure of learning too much about him."

"A ritual often performed was a rite of ascension," the Muscum continued, "whereby the emperor, once having acquired the approval of the gods, could ascend to godhood, quite literally. Apotheosis. The ritual was always performed the same, with magic, of course. Now whether or not they actually ascended or simply died trying is..." Bertholdt offered his hands in the air to reflect the idea that it was up for speculation.

Lir shook her head, "Because rarely do gods ever walk and talk with us...or at the very least make mention of successful ascension. You know how they are...pompous bast-.."

"I wouldn't say that if I were you," Caspian's uneasy eyes darted to Lir.

He still cared for superstition.

"Irreverent much? I think I like you 'Red,'" Jolloc nodded his head in approval.

"Don't call me 'Red,' and I'm already taken," Lir had acknowledged a possible relationship to simply stave off the orc's advances. Antius blinked, his attention stolen from the elven princess' explanation for a moment.

"The souless lit-match says she's taken. R~ight," snickers Danairia, not buying it for a millisecond.

"Guys, I'm taken too. Fun fact, I'm quite submissive-it turns out."

The orc's mouth dropped. He would have carved that in the stone under 'bullshit.'

The blacksmith's eyes shot wide open and he loosed a loud snorting noise at the last revelation, before he slapped his mouth shut and glanced around.

Maevra pressed her lips tight, stifling back laughter as her mouth twisted into a light smile at the wise-crack.

Antius rolled his eyes, amused despite himself at his friends' (did he dare call them that?) antics. He nodded sagely at Danairia's words.

"Duly noted. I'd take advantage of that, but alas, I am taken too," he noted before smiling over at Lir and, perhaps feeling a little bold turned and kissed her cheek smiling a little shyly, a rarity in the normally self-assured mage. Nonetheless he wrapped an arm around Lir's waist and cocked his head at Jolloc, as if in challenge.

Danairia squinted, still finding a hard time believing with evidence present right in front of her.

"Eh~em," the Muscum interjected with an obvious gesture substituting the act of actually clearing his throat.

"As I was saying, another facet was that the rituals were almost always performed out in the desert. The Empire eventually fell, but that's about as much history as I know," Bertholdt nodded.

Anundhel picked up where he left on, "Thank you Bertholdt. One particular account, I can not remember its source, spoke of the very last ascension ritual ever performed. Some believe it led to the fall of the Zengi. A civil war broke out and destroyed their empire from within because...the ritual failed miserably."

"These things happen," Antius noted.

"Tragic really..." the half orc shook his head in a mocking manner.

"Oh shut it." Bertholdt clammored.

The Princess continued, "It failed, because a betrayer, whom was a great friend and counselor to the emperor, interrupted the channeling of the spell. The resulting backlash led to an efflux of chaotic energies. Since the Zengi channeled the ritual near an oasis, traces of the magic tainted the spring's waters. Thereby granting it the powers of immortality it has now."

"Well...shit." Jolloc murmured scratching his head, "Wait, so then where are we supposed to find this immortal spring of -?"

"Well of Regrets..." Maevra corrected her half-orc friend with quickness.

Jolloc replied, "I don't know whether to be offended or saddened that you think I need to be corrected..."

Maevra smiled smugly as Bertholdt replied, "I'm just plain saddened."

Anundhel continued past their brief exchange, "The Well of Regrets is considered by the locals to be mythical.

"Mythical?" Caspian gulped, but immediately zipped his lips when he became conscious of how out of place he was.

"Quite," Anundhel pressed her lips as she glanced at the blacksmith, she knew that would most certainly discourage any band of mercenaries.

Even with all the silvers she had prepared for the journey, it seemed none were greedy enough to venture into an uncharted land. The possibility of never returning to such a large reward seemed what sages called a vicious cycle of un-ideal circumstances known as quandary twenty-two, so aptly labeled by Sylas Nimroas as Anundhel had read.

"...It might not exist. Your reluctance is not without merit. However, perchance that it exists, supposedly a number of guards, traps, and spirits stand watch over the magical waters."

"'Might not exist?' And there are guards?" Huo scowled.

"Perhaps the existence of the guards discouraged any who attempted to venture a drink. Thus the spring itself eventually fell into the oblivion of myth, never to be touched again," Anundhel offered.

Huo nodded to accept her answer, but his acceptance was far from wholehearted.

Danairia seemed to better accept the report, as she seemed somewhat waivered.

"Spirits? Uh-uh bad juju there. I ain't a priest and I'm not about to become no exorcist."

Caspian squinted at the Tlamani.

"You really need to tell me about some of the past adventures you've been on..."

"You mentioned 'ingredients'," Huo continued, "What are the others?"

The Princess replied, "The second is the heart of a black drake named Vormyceres. The dragon roosted inside a large cavern of the Icathonian mountains and guarded a vast treasure hoard. That is, until a dwarf adventurer led a band of brothers, cousins, and friends into the caverns. They wandered through the dark depths of the mountain and found the deposit, along with it, Vormyceres himself. They slew the beast after a hard fought battle."

"Dwarves and dragons...they never mixed well, if I'm going to be honest," Jolloc said.

"Your honesty was never worth much," Bertholdt snorted.

Danairia shrugged at the mention of Dwarves and dragons.

“It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.”

Maevra began, "Yeah, well, those dwarves colonized the caverns using the gold they found. They propped themselves up as a new realm, but that began twenty years ago."

"Twenty...?" Lir took a moment to gather herself.

"Wait, so is the heart also...?" Caspian began.

"The heart is real. Has not decayed since. Some believe that Vormyceres consumed a star, which binded with his heart," Anundhel enunciated.

"Fuckin' hardcore..." Danairia said, thinking aloud.

"Which gives us hope that the Well might exist as well," the princess paused, "That...was poor phrasing."

"And the third artifact?" Jolloc reminded her.

"A special leaf from Yparil, the Tree of Life."

"FUCK!" Danairia interrupted in a loud outburst. Everyone, along with a handful of patrons from the rest of The White Sphinx turned to look at her again.

"You'll find out," she sighed, resting her forehead on one of her hands while waving toward Anundhel. "Jus-..Just tell 'em..."

"Yparil was among the very first saplings to grow, but while other trees were destroyed by war or plague or industry, Yparil remained untouched and is thought to be the oldest tree in existence. It is, coincidentally, located within the forested realm of Yhavann in elf lands. However, it is a highy protected and secretive realm that not even we elves have access to. The Forest Guardians do not discriminate against any who dare enter their land. You'd be surprised to know that even someone such as I would have difficulty entering the guarded forest." The Princess exhaled, "Immortality never did come freely."

"What's our plan then?" Huo asked.

"If I had to venture a guess, we'll have to grab a vial of the magic water," Lir answered, "Then we head to Icathon..."

"Precisely," Anundhel smiled at the mage.

"We're gonna go look for some water that might not even be real. To save some people that I have no care for in the world." Huo summarized, his tone frosted.

The fighter relied on his voice to carry his emotions and thoughts better than the theatrics of hand gestures. His only hand gestures formed fists meant more for breaking cheekbones.

"And this idea...you got from a book?" the fighter paused for his own sanity, "As much as I would like to help you, the dwarf's story doesn't inspire much confidence. All of these things about myth...you can give me something to punch, and I'll do it, but this...?"

The Princess was about to pull off one of her gloves, but Maevra stopped her.

"Well, now hold on, that's not even the worst part. The worst part is we're gonna need water along the way to find the water," Jolloc laughed for himself.

Maevra groaned.

The orc felt it always necessary to defuse any tense situation. He preferred talk over swords. Unless of course, the situation concerned himself and a fellow who had the bollocks to call him 'savage.'

"Now, hold on a moment," Danairia demanded, surprisingly of Huo.

"It may be a book largely made up of portions about adventures, but it isn't something you guys should out-right dismiss either. I'm no alchemist but the guy certainly knew what he was doing. Besides," Danairia said, lifting her hand to Anundhel, "she went as far as to leave home, forsake most her valuable priveleges as a Princess, and travel across the world to come to this conclusion. She could have gone back and possibly try her hand at using her influence to further her goal but she has yet to do so. If she had not so much faith in this theory of her's, then what the hell would she be doing here?"

Danairia rested her arms on the backrest of her chair.

"It takes serious balls to leave like she did when so few of us do. I know; I did it way before our precious flower here even THOUGHT of how cool it could be. You all don't even know."

Maevra glared at the mercenary as she insults her princess.

"'Your Royal Highness to YOU, Tlamani.-"

"-She isn't MY princess now, is she, yappy dog?" Danairia barks back.

"Why...do you talk like that?" Caspian had only taken notice of her odd phrases, strange references, and peculiar usage of language.

"You may call me Anundhel, or Princess if that so fits you. I am not one for formalities, I don't know any of you." Anundhel bowed her head, "But I may ask, were there any others who had the dream besides...?"

"Not that we know of..." Caspian shrugged.

Anundhel nodded, "To think that we elves once lived in peace, flourished, preferring a path of isolation over interaction. Such a path no longer seems prudent..." the last bit fading before melancholy and nostalgia.

Two worlds now brought together. Her face turned grim before the candlelight. All the features that were thought fair waned within moments to show a woman not quite sure of her path but willing to push forward regardless of the risk.

Anundhel glanced at Danairia and then at Huo, "You asked me earlier if I believed in fate?"

She gestured to Bertholdt to elaborate her point.

The muscum nodded fervently, "The Princess has generously hired me, I am Bertholdt," and he bowed "...and I will be your guide through this land called Syakh."

Jolloc stepped in, "I'm Jolloc, a half-orc, I'm your...muscle...for this journey."

"Spirits," Danairia interrupted, "What about the spirits? Who the hell did you get to fight spirits? I don't know any saints and I'm pretty sure most of them wouldn't like me anyway. If we encounter spirits like this, I don't care-I'm getting the hell outta there. Y'all can go ahead and get possessed-walkin' up walls and shit-if you want but I'm not about that kind of lifestyle."

"That's what the mages are for right?" Maevra glanced at Lir and Antius.

"Spirits are tricky, but they can die as easily as the living," Antius noted, trying to inject some optimism into the situation.

The Half-Orc motioned toward Sanvi with a shrug, "And along with that I've enlisted the services of Sanvi here. She's a cleric. Introduce yourself..."

"Joys of joys, another redhead. I feel fortunate," Antius laughed. This was where he belonged, he decided. The world was larger and he desired to see as much of it as possible while he was still young and his grimoire was still blank. Politics awaited him in the Empire, knives and all, but he was in no hurry to return. Let them chase after him. He would learn what he was ignorant of from their failed agents. Then, his family would have justice. He would make sure of that.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Sanvi
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Sanvi could only stand there like a third wheel, or tenth, until the group talked over their business. She folded her hands on her chest and tapped one foot against the floorboards in frustration. She caught most of the conversation, but didn't bother to read into in, until that orc gestured to her.

"And along with that I've enlisted the services of Sanvi here. She's a cleric. Introduce yourself..."

She was caught off guard, not knowing what to say, thrown in the middle of it. She thought that this was supposed to be a small job. Something local. She didn't think she'd need to leave Khi'ir for a little while, she was just getting used to living here and she had paid for her room for the full month. Sanvi made a slow step forward, now being careful not to knock down anyone else with her wings.

"I'm Sanvi." She said, stupidly. Oh, to hell with it, she was an adventurer, wasn't she? Then, this little journey shouldn't be that much of a fright. When she left home she said she wouldn't get comfortable anywhere. Why would Khi'ir be any special, it's not like it was an amazingly welcoming sort of place. Sanvi cleared her throat and gave a slight, polite bow. "I am a cleric, I am also a redhead obviously, and single, since all of you have declared your current statuses." She looked over the crowd. "I do molt, but not during this season." She glared at the boy from before. "And I will be glad to join you... For the proper amount."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Sanvi
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Caspian blushed as Sanvi answered his question and then stared at him.

"Uuuh-heheh...sorry..."

After Sanvi mentions the pay, Danairia speaks up.

"I second that. I'm all for trying to save an entire race of people-I really am-but you're asking a lot of us. I mean, I probably don't have enough money to make it through my next couple meals, let alone a trip around the world for a visit in the top three places to get fucking killed."

Danairia raises an arm to the entrance, gesturing to the rest of the world around them.

"We can't survive a task like this without the supplies and a journey like this would require a LOT of supplies."

The sitting elf's emerald-green eyes rest upon the Tlamani before her, her body still. Maevra glances between her lady and the adventurers before them.

..."Very well," she says.

"I wish I could offer you all substantial compensation for the grand task I place before you but, as it stands...I'm not in a position to speak on behalf of my father or any of the other elven royalty...but I AM a princess of their realm and I have no doubt there will be much more than just affections showering you. I myself will compensate each of you if it is required. As for your first payment..."

Anundhel looks over to her bodyguard, addressing her in their home language.

"Maevra, give me the money we have left."

Maevra's eyes widen.

"Your Highness, forgive me but you mus'n't! That's the money we set aside for your living expenses! What are we going to do about food or a place to stay?"

Knowing their position, Anundhel lightly trembles. However, she does not falter.

"I am not unable to work. We can make do with what we have but let us discuss this another time. Now, hand me the gold."

Maevra reluctantly produced a bag on the smaller side of gold coins with a little bit of silver and copper mixed in, setting it on the table. The princess slides it closer to her, removing two gold before pushing the bag forward.

"This is all I can offer you. It will not last you very long with this amount of people, even if you conserve it, but it is what I have to offer."

"Seven mouths to feed..." Lir says, thinking aloud while attempting to work out the math in her head of about how much a single meal would cost for everyone.

"Remember," Anundel suggests. "Jolloc and Bertholdt are only there to help guide you through the desert safely. After that, you are on your own."

"You have given us more than enough. You have our thanks, Your Highness," Caspian says, diping his head in a light bow before the princess.

Maevra appears a bit unnerved.

"I-...I will do my best to assist you in keeping us afloat, Your Highness. I can only hope it will be enough in the end though..."

"We will be fine, Maevra. Look at-"

The woman looks over to the Tlamani still listening to their every word.

"-Danairia, was it? She looks almost as though she is a child yet here she is, working for herself. How old are you, girl?"

"Uuuh~...Um..."

Just then, Danairia seems to freeze almost as if paralyzed where she stood...

..."We'll continue this later," she says as she begins retrieving her three flasks from the table and turns to look at the entrance of the establishment.

Upon further attention, one would see a group of two guards emerge from the doorway, dressed in gambesons and steel helmets for protection and a yatagan rests sheathed on each of their belts. The first in scans the room, looking for the individual described to him as 'an armed, young, angry, Tlamani whore dressed in clothes befitting a native of Dessor'.

The guard looks around from left to right, seeing the likes of Tharonians and Felidins, Orcs and Dwarves, niessen brutes, a rough-looking hooded niessen man standing next to a redheaded lass, an Osu, a poker-faced female Tlamani, a rather attractive Kaleth, a couple Sindrelei-...

The guard looks back to the Tlamani, who is-in fact-a rather grumpy looking Epori lady....

He furrows his brow and turns around, calling back to the door in the native language.

"Miss, could you come in here please?"

The grumpy rabbit-girl eyes the redheaded mage beside her.

"You couldn't have picked ANYTHING else?" She whispers, accusingly.

"It's the first thing I thought of!-Be happy I didn't just leave you to get thrown in prison, Danairia!" Lir whispers back.

The D'homani barkeep from before, looking much more out of breath, appeared through the doorway, the patrons quieting down as they begin to notice the presence of guards on duty.

The two guards continue to speak to the woman in Dumic, Danairia only somewhat able to make out the general idea of what they are saying as they question her about if she could point out the girl she had spoke of. The woman looks around, stopping at the adventurers in the corner and saying something to the guards, regarding the Tlamani girl's involvement with them.

The Epori where Danairia once stood sighs.

"I 'spose I'll meet up with you guys later," she says. "...Just do me a favor and be somewhere in the open where I can find you."

Lir glares over at the Epori.

"Uh~ What are you planning?"

The guards approach the occupied corner with the barkeep in tow. At first, they speak in Dumic again. Luckily, Bertholdt appears to be able to understand them and sighs before translating what is said.

"The big guy says, 'you people have caused enough trouble in this establishment and we would like for you to leave'..."

Lir appears perplexed as she looks around to Antius and everyone else. Jolloc has an equally surprised expression.

The barkeep squeezes her way through the pair of guards.

"I have had enough of this! My bar is a mess and I want you all out!"

"But, miss!" Caspian protests. "We've done nothing wrong!-Err.."

Caspian glances at Sanvi and the magically-disguised Danairia, realizing that that statement was not entirely true...

"Um...most of us, anyway..."

The barkeep looks well-beyond being too annoyed to care, however.

"That does not matter, I want you out-I want you-..."

She stops, catching sight of the grumpy-looking Epori.

"You-...You were not here before, weren't you?"

The Epori glances around at the room, nervously.

"Uuuuuuh~"

The barkeep steps closer, leaning into Danairia's personal space as she looks directly into the Epori's eyes.

"...When did you get in this group?"

Danairia looks back, her nervousness barely shrouded behind a rough poker-face as the woman stares deep into her soul.

...

The barkeep's eyes widen.

Just before she can say anything, the Epori reaches forward, across her body and around the opposite side of the barkeep's upper neck, and yanks her down and to the side, throwing the woman to the floor before tackling one of the guards, scrambling over him and sprinting out of the entrance, then immediately making a 90-degree turn toward the alleyway.
The first guard is not far behind, barely within arm's reach as he desperately tries to grab the escaping suspect while his partner and the barkeep try to catch up after regrouping and following them out the door.

..."Not again," Caspian sighs.

"I knew it...She is defective," Lir adds as she pinches the bridge of her nose, not even surprised at this point.

Danairia makes another 90-degree turn into the alleyway she had her 'talk' with the waitress in and, in an effort to escape the closest guard's reach, tips a garbage can as they pass. The action is successful as the guard kicks the object hard, sending it into a sudden roll forward as he trips forward. The guard gets up, paying little mind as he continues the pursuit, now reunited with his partner after the delay let him catch up.
The barkeep struggles after but stops as she moves around the corner and sees the trash can. A certain Epori waitress lays among the spilled out contents with her trousers pulled down, revealing her surprisingly innocent underwear to the world.

The barkeep gasps, running to the aid of her employee and leaving the escaping girl to the two guards.

The setting changes from The White Sphinx to Foreign Quarter

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Sanvi
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It was assumed that everyone would go along with the quest out of their good nature. Huo asked that the group pause before setting out too soon, on the pretense that they plan the trip a little bit further.

Huo spoke skepticism, and that left him surprised and thinking. He wanted to wait before deciding, but everything that built up to that very point contrasted with that notion. He boarded Eiraendar’s ship on a whim. He agreed to work for his fare on a whim. He walked the steps to the tavern on a whim. Did the sisters of fate guide his steps? Or did he possess the faculty of choice? These questions left him up that night.

If he could not sleep, then he would do the next thing he knew.

The sun had barely risen, but the Osu fighter found himself within the courtyard of the caravansary that he stayed at. Bertholdt secured them decent lodgings in the Foreign Quarter with little expense to their travel funds because he knew the owner of the inn as a friend. Huo valued the mouse’s quick thinking and resourcefulness. Whether the Osu trusted him yet, that was another matter.

Huo found himself some space among the tiled ground. Colonnades spanned the length of the rectangular courtyard. A small fountain sat in the center, water gushing in near silence.

The fighter threw a punch at the air, followed by successive half fists.

Then a swift uppercut.

A southpaw followed.

A smooth jab.

Three sharp crosses.

More light half fists at an invisible target whose head bounced back after each hit.

“Care for a spar?” a voice interrupted Huo’s little session.

Surprise overtook the Osu, he thought everyone to be asleep now. He turned to see the face of the orc Jolloc. He leaned against one of the columns with folded arms as though he had been watching for a time. Huo exhaled and popped his neck.

They spent minutes trading fist for fist, neither of their attacks landed for both proved quick and agile against the other. Kicks and more advanced moves followed.

-

Though it seemed clear to any observer that Huo held the upper hand near toward the end, Jolloc asserted the fight to be inconclusive. Huo cared not, he succeeded in his objective. Quieting his mind.

They rested as the sun rose, letting their sweat dry.

Jolloc loosed a half chuckle, “You fight well with your fists…for a human. Though we tied, rest assured things would be different with swords.”

“I bet,” Huo replied.

The orc shook his head, “Cocky bast-“

“So you’re not an orc, I’m guessing,” Huo took a swig from a canteen while leering at Jolloc.

“What gave it away?” Jolloc brushed his hair, “My hair? Or my facial bone structure? Or the fact that my fangs are better off stuck into cheese than rocks?”

Huo shrugged.

Jolloc continued, “I’m a half orc, but I prefer to be known as an orc. My father left my mother, so I surrender all claim to my human side. Besides, humans disgust me,” when Jolloc noticed Huo had arched his brows, “Some humans disgust me. The kind that sees me as nothing more than a savage,” he stared off at the sun.

The Osu fighter nodded.

Jolloc glanced at Huo, “You don’t have the least bit of an aversion to me.”

Huo gave it some thought, “I’m no different than you are. And if by savage, you mean mindless or bloodthirsty? You don’t need green skin to be a monster.”

Jolloc nodded with a smile, “I can drink to that.”

A voice called to the both, “Gents,” and they turned to see Lir.

“We’re having a group meeting in the main courtyard. Did you both sleep well?” the mage smirked.

“No thanks to you and Antius,” Jolloc replied with a grin and sprang to his feet.

Lir groaned, shook her head, and rolled her eyes and left them.

-

Their little group gathered around a table beneath some palms planted in the airy courtyard of the caravansary. Antius, Bertholdt, Caspian, Danairia, Huo, Jolloc, Lir, and Sanvi.

The group agreed, by majority not unanimity, to let Bertholdt measure the coin for the group to use over the span of the expedition. Before setting out, they also required a proper plan lest their supplies and currency dwindle before they reached their destination. In addition, they needed to consult a map to determine the approximate location of the oasis. Bertholdt acknowledged, with insight, that the whereabouts for a near-mythical oasis was not common knowledge. The likeliest place to possess any inkling of their destination should be a repository of information, the library.

At Bertholdt’s suggestion, they first decided to spend a day or two in Khi’ir to plan accordingly. Given the desert to be home to thieves and cutthroats, they needed to understand the guarded trade routes. Knowledge of rest stops were necessary, for the further inland they went, the lesser the hospitality of the land and its natives. None of these provisions, had Huo given thought to, and it seemed a wonder that he made it this far on his own.

Bertholdt stood on the table, so that he was at least chest height to everyone there, “We will need to seek out the nearest library to search for maps and atlases. I trust official published work more than the word of street vendors. The deserts can be tricky, I’ve...”

“Wait, so you’ve never gone into the desert before?” Lir placed a hand on her hip with a cocked brow.

“I have gone to real places in the desert. We’re talkin’ about a mythical oasis here,” Bertholdt’s crisp reply elicited sideways glances, their journey seemed trickier than they thought.

Lir pursed her lips, “Fair point.”

Bertholdt spoke, “I think so. At any rate, maybe one or two of you could tag along. Three heads are better than one at researching. Mister Antius? Miss Lir?”

“May I tag along as well,” Caspian suggested.

The mouse shrugged, “Eh, sure kid, if you know how to read,” to which Caspian nodded.

“We’re settled then?” the mouse sprang from the table and onto the floor, a display of dexterity and balance.

“So are we to leave Sanvi, Jolloc, and Danairia in the same place then? I think Huo would have his hands tied trying to babysit all of them,” Lir gestured to them.

“Whoa, hey now, I actually managed to put some pants on today,” Jolloc half-grinned, he looked at Sanvi for a reaction, “And I consider myself a firm believer in pantless holidays.”

Bertholdt smacked his face with his hand and groaned.

“She’s right though,” Huo said with nonchalance and folded arms, which by this point, everyone realized to be his usual disposition, “I don’t babysit.”

Everyone looked at him.

Huo glanced around, “That wasn’t like…a punchline.”

“Hah! Punch. Good one,” Jolloc jabbed him on the shoulder, “That’s your thing.”

“Maybe it would be better if Danairia went in my place,” Lir offered.

Bertholdt almost recoiled, “To a library? Her? No offense, er- Miss Dana?” the Muscum cleared his throat and massaged his forehead, “Okay, I could only take you if you promise to stay out of trouble…and based off yesterday, that seems…just please don’t have the town watch chase after you again. We’re lucky they didn’t have a squad mage with them.”

Jolloc spoke, “In the meantime, though, maybe the rest of us can at least buy some provisions for the road? Grab a camel or two? Or at least, breakfast?” and as he said that his stomach growled.

“After we come back, maybe we can decide then. In the meantime,” Bertholdt glanced at Sanvi, uneasiness in his eyes, “Try not to break anything.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Sanvi
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"A library, huh. I haven't had the chance to visit one in two years," Antius, noted stroking his chin wistfully. Two years was hardly a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it had felt like decades in the colliseum. Absently, he reached to grip Lir's hand before nodding his assent to the plan.

"I will make sure that Dana does not leave nasty surprises in the books. We do not need to be kicked out of the city and we would most certainly deserve it if we damaged their collection," he noted before frowning thoughtfully, "Speaking of which, how are going to access the library? The Academy required at least two letters of recommendation or the visitor to be of a sufficiently high rank. I confess that I am ignorant of this city's customs, but we are strangers here. Surely they won't trust us to peruse their scollection without supervision and word will most likely get out. People as... Unique as ourselves do not go unnoticed and rumors flow though the streets of places such as this."

When they had finished the planning stage of their day, Antius eagerly made his way through the city. He loved the smell of spice and incense in the air, even mingled with sweat and dung as it was. He had always wanted to see the world and visit its places of knowledge. Now, it seemed, he was living his dream. He moved about the crowd confidently, as if he was one of importance and though his clothes were more ragged than they once were, they were still well-made and this, combined with his manner, convinced many people to give him space.

He smiled in delight at the onion-roofed building before them. It was easily among the biggest in the city. He eyed the murals in appreciation and awed at the stone white columns. He grinned as he approached its entrance.

"I only wish that Lir was here to see this. We spent much of the night talking about it," he noted before a pair of bored looking guards barred their entrance. He sighed long-sufferingly. Their first obstacle.

"We are scholars on a pilgrimage to this great place of learning," he stated, as though he was used to saying such a thing and a little bored with the routine, "Please, let us through."

The setting changes from Foreign Quarter to Opynonias

Setting

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Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Ya'weh Character Portrait: Vadania Moonwhisper
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"You want me to do what?" The felidin protested. "He has nothing to defend himself with."

The Sivyne, he only just found out was named Ya'weh, crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her right hip. "Your master wanted you to train with the master Dhaxi. Dhaxi personally picked this one from his others to train with you. Both of you fight hand-to-hand so I could see the connection he was going for. Now, begin."

Tumhathil raised his arms on each side, still hesitant.

"I don't exactly fight the same way-"

"I said fight him!" The trainer yelled, shifting to a much more threatening posture.

Tumhathil was used to taking orders. He was used to being shouted at so much that it no longer phased him...but he could not help but mindlessly obey, regardless. It was his life and he cared little if it changed or not.
The Osu man, looking to be roughly about 20 or 21, almost a full decade younger than Tumhathil, took his stance. It appeared to be that of a standard fighter: left hand being the lead, right being the rear. Hands raised in an open position, ready to close and harden into a fist. The felidin, a full few heads taller and definitely overall much larger, took a step forward with his left foot and raised his paws up in a much different fashion from his opponent. His palms were facing forward at an equal distance away from his body, individual fingers pointing to the human with his left hand blocking high, for his face. His right hand down at chest-level.
They began.

Already knowing his size provided a large disadvantage, Tumhatil knew he would have to take the first initiative. He moved forward in his stance, closing the distance quickly and immediately attempting a right-hand grab on the Osu.

...He would not fall so easy...

Moving quickly, the man leaned to his left, side-stepping the first strike and countering with two of his own. A quick lead jab, finding his range, and following through with a right hook to the kidney and quick escape. The lion felt a little stunned from the blow as a sharp pain shocked through his right side. The best he could do was turn to face his opponent again after he had fled his striking distance. Perhaps he had misjudged the abilities of this fighter after all, but he would no longer do so.

The fight would carry on through a couple minutes. Tumhathil would go for a swiping strike-landing only a couple stray blows with his knee after failing to hit with his hands-and the man would take advantage of his own agility to get around it, forcing the lion to defend or be subjected to a blow to wherever he was open. However, the Osu was quickly tiring out and that was not good for someone having to rely on speed. However, that knowledge did little to hint at what was to come next.
Much to Tumhathil's surprise, the fighter bolted forward toward him. It was a reckless move and one that almost certainly guaranteed the felidin victory but that was not all. The man had a trick up his sleeve.
In an instant, he was upon the lion, jumping up, looking as though he was risking a strike at his face for the first time in the fight. Suddenly, Tumhathil's adrenaline was alight and it was not the only thing as such. The Osu's fist opened to reveal a growing flame.
Flow.

In one quick move, the lion lashed out with his right hand, stifling the pain as he grabbed the flow user by his hand, extinguishing the flame, and pulling him down to his own level into his other waiting paw in a quick strike with his palm. Capitalizing on the current situation, Tumhathil's fingers gripped around the shoulder strap of the man's cuirass and pulled him into a brutal headbutt before letting him fall back and pulling him close again, this time the lion's exposed claws awaited, stopping just short of his prey's face.

"Stop!"

Tumhathil held the man there for a moment after Ya'weh had given the command to halt before retracting his claws. Finally, he set the man back down on his feet.

Oddly enough...the man smirked. Through blood dripping down his face from his nose and a cut on his forehead-he was grinning at the large creature in front of him.

Suddenly, his arm raised out in front of him; not in a fist, but with an open hand to shake. 'Huo' was all he had said.
Tumhathil never had an opponent give his name like that before-not after losing a sparring match like that. This guy definitely was something else entirely.
...
Their hands met.

"Tumhathil," he quietly spoke.


"Tumhathil," Huo repeated...

...

"Tumhathil~."

...

"TUMHATHIL!!"

The lion awoke in an instant, his left paw bolting forward upon reflex and grabbing the tunic of the one causing the disturbance.
Unfortunately, sense came back to him but a moment too late...

8th Breh

A fist rockets through the air, connecting with the left side of Tumhathil's mouth. Before he can even react beyond letting go of the tunic, the same hand comes up, grabs his face, lifts his head up and then shoves it right back down to the deck before it is pressed into the wall apparently next to his laying body. The sound of a small blade being drawn whispers through the air and, without hesitation, the felidin feels it pressed against the side of his throat.

"TRY IT AGAIN, KITTY CAT!" Kail yells at the slave as he pushes harder with the knife, holding it there.

The Felidin could barely remember the previous night but it was slowly coming back to him, though it was currently a bit hazy at best. Somehow, his master had woken him up in his cell and stood him up, bearing some of Tumhathil's sheer mass as they walked out of the arena, at which point the memory becomes even more blurred. All he can remember is not really helping at all as Kail practically took the entirety of the Felidin's weight all the way over to...
...wherever they were now, he guessed. He would have liked to know why they were where they were but cared too little to let it bother him.

A moment passes...then the master flicks his wrist back, removing the blade from Tumhathil's neck, and sheathes it back on his belt before getting back to his feet and walking away, toward a point further down the wall which the lion had been awoken next to, and stopped next to a window, hidden behind closed curtains.

Zilinder pinched the curtain of the window, gingerly peeling it back just enough to peak outside. Light impacted half of his face. It was only a little bit but it was just enough to slightly illuminate the surrounding room. From the empty darkness emerged the furnishings of a bedroom. The floor, as he could previously feel, was a worn wood surface. A mattress, of what is probably straw, lays on the floor in the corner across the room from Tumhathil, appearing to have been freshly used, as the accompanying blanket lies crumpled at the foot of it. A wardrobe stands, still opened, much closer to the lion, though still on the opposite wall of the room. Used clothes lay around on the floor at the foot of it.

This was Kail's home...

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Daddy?"

It was a girl. The voice was gentle, small. A little girl.

Both men looked at the door. Kail glanced at the fighter as the curtain shuts, stealing back the light without returning the little bit of dark vision it had taken from him upon its arrival. Tumhathil could barely see the figure but he could feel the presence of a continued, menacing stare.

What came next was...unusual. The usual threatening content was present but the delivery seemed much too quiet; unusually quick as well. The words from the slave master's mouth were barely a mutter.

"I will not here you speak.-If I hear a word even whispered from those fat-fucking-whisker lips of yours, I will personally end your life."

The man walked over to the entrance of the room, cracking open the door just wide enough to squeeze through, though Tumhathil could not see beyond the door, for it had unfortunately opened from the side opposite his in the room.

...After a moment had passed, Kail had returned, opening the door and then immediately closing it behind him before turning to his fighter and approaching.

"I swear by the creator's merciful-fucking-face, you will not touch her-you will not harm a single hair upon her head. If you make even the slightest scratch upon her skin, I will end your very existence.-I will melt your fucking soul so that you can't even go back to whatever it is you fucking cat-people pray to. No god-no deity or demon will save you from me, because I am more powerful than any of your gods. I am more fierce than any demon and you will have no mercy of that wrath. DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND."

Any indication of an empty threat was missing. Throughout his speech, the man's words had no relent to them. It seemed as though Kail meant every single word. The content was obviously a bit fantastic in nature but Tumhathil could tell without any doubt that it was the most real threat he has ever received, not just by Kail, but any man...

The lion nodded as his handler glared at him for another full moment...before turning and opening the door.

"G'the fuck out here."

Tumhathil followed Kail down the hall and a flight of wooden stairs into what appeared to be the house's main room. In it stood a little girl, somewhat lighter in skin than the man he had followed. Her deep, dark brown, poofy hair seemed ill-proportionate to her tiny nose and mouth. From the moment she saw the lion, her lids opened wide, revealing a large pair of eyes which matched closely to Kail's.

"Daddy, look! Look daddy, it's a big kitty!"

Zilindar approached the little girl and leaned over to pick her up. She glanced back and forth between the two men, trying to get her apparent father's attention, to no avail.

"Tika," he said softly as he reached underneath her arms. "Up-up."

The usually entirely hostile man gently lifted, seating the little girl on his left hand and leaning her against his shoulder as she continued pointing at Tumhathil.

"Daddy!" She said softly. "Look-..look at the big kitty!"

"I know," He quietly reassured her. "I need you to be quiet now though..."

The little girl did not listen however, and continued to quietly address the elephant...or lion...in the room.

"Hi kitty!" She said, waving at the slave fighter.

Just as she did with her father, she continues waving and repeats herself when she does not get a response.

"Hi kitty~!"

...

Zilindar led the way down to the market, where it seemed as though there was some kind of commotion the night prior. His master had not spoken about what they were doing there and all that was commanded of him was to stay put when he would approach a stall or enter a shop. After a short period of time, Tumhathil had begun to notice that Kail had not been browsing any of the wares; only speaking to the shop keepers. It was only natural that it had something to do with why he had been brought back to Kail's house and why he was following his master around then but he still had not even a guess as to why he was there.

The crowd was buzzing about. Conversations about the previous night were everywhere as rumors began to spread. The fighter had since dismissed the chatter as talk about the championship match of last night...but, before long, he had overheard something of interest...

Imperials had visited the city. They had even raided the colosseum.

Such news sparked his interest. The lion listened in for more.

A large fight. Soldiers practically sidelined in a conflict with mages. Escaped fighters.

Tumhathil stopped, his eyes widening as the blurry memories of last night cleared just a little bit more...

"I need to go. I...I just..."

It was him...

"That woman-...-I might have seen her when we came to that tavern."

He was the reason why Kail had brought him there...

"I can't get those visions out of my head..."

They were tracking Huo...

Tumhathil could feel his pulse rising...but why were they after Huo? He was one of Dhaxi's fighters and Kail certainly was no friend of Dhaxi.

The thought plagued his mind as Kail returned, motioning for the fighter to follow him.

"Daddy~," the little girl in Zilindar's arms whined. "I'm hungry~..."

"I know, Tika. We'll eat soon, okay?" Kail reassured the little girl quietly, barely even whispering loud enough to hear over the ambient noise of the market.

Of course. They had yet to even eat morning chow. But the grumbling of Tumhathil's large-and very much empty-stomach failed to steal away his thoughts.

What were they doing there?

"KAIL!"

A voice yelled from behind the men and the little girl, calling-out the slave owner and commanding their undivided attention.

Four heavily-armed former colosseum guards, now likely paid as on-hand mercenaries, stood before the other slave owner. Amidst them was none other than Dhaxi and two slave fighters. One had a short sword, shield, left shoulder steel pauldron and a closed helmet, leaving his face completely masked. The other wielded a trident and light pieces of leather armor scattered around her body.

"The Imperials were here for one of your fighters. One of my most prized has escaped and Madame Phrina is now dead because of you. Because you did not care enough to stay away from shackle trades!"

Kail was noticeably surprised at Dhaxi's words.

"Madame Phrina is dead?"

"ASHES," Dhaxi simply said. "A spell sword they brought with them did it. She was complaining to her about the damage they caused and the woman disintegrated her."

Tika quietly tugged on her father's tunic.

"Daddy?" She said. "I wanna go home..."

Kail took a deep breath, taking it in and reinforcing his composure while he shushed the little girl in his arms, clutching around his body.

"It was a mistake, Dhaxi. I had not been told about who exactly I was purchasing when-"

"-DO YOU THINK THAT MAKES ANY KIND OF DIFFERENCE?!"

Dhaxi interrupted the fellow gladiator owner, his temper now openly lost.

"BE IT MISTAKE OR ON PURPOSE, DO YOU HONESTLY FEEL THINGS WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT DIFFERENTLY?!"

Zilindar tightens his grip on Tika's bottom.

"Daddy? What's happening?" The little girl begins to become noticeably shaken.

A light snap hits Tumhathil's ears as his master undoes the strap locking the whip to his belt. By now a crowd has begun to gather around the two parties.

"Tumhathil...I'm going to have to leave this solely to you."

The lion steps forward slightly, in recognition that Zilindar has his hands full. His claws extend out from his fingers down at his side.

Dhaxi quiets down but appears to only vocally regain control of his temper.

"...I have been waiting for this, Kail. Whether you made a mistake or a careless investment, it would have ended like this every time."

And finally, he tilted his head to address his men, never leaving Zilindar's eyes with his own.

"Take his head."

Zilindar loosens his grip on the whip, letting the end drop as his arm flicks the weapon up and extends it out the side with a loud, intimidating crack.
Tika tightens her grip around her father's neck as she begins to panic.

"Daddy? What's happening? What are you doing?"

Just then, the slave owner catches a smooth whiff of tobacco smoke. Something in his gut does not feel right...

Tumhathil walks forward with purpose as Dhaxi's men prepare to meet the hulking giant of a creature.

From not so far away, a man puts away his cutter and strikes a match, quickly putting it to the cigar between his lips and moving it around in a circular motion at the tip, using his other hand to block the breeze. After reaching a satisfying burn and testing the draw once; twice, making sure to get a nice flow, he shakes the match, extinguishing it before dropping it to the ground. The man takes his first draw, exhaling through the gaps in his occupied lips as a whip cracks in the air in front of him. With emotionless, absent expression from his face he removes the stick from his mouth and lazily raises a hand up.
As if it were just another day in his life, he brings the cigar back to his lips and takes a puff...
...His hand falls.


Just as Tumhathil readies himself to swipe aside the spear of one of the mercenaries, bolts streak from above, impacting each of Dhaxi's men. The guards simultaneously fall, their cheap armor easily penetrated by the projectiles and fail to stop them from embedding themselves in the chests of the men. Dhaxi, seeing his men fall, quickly reacts, pulling the larger gladiator of his in front of him, forcing him to take a bolt to the chest, as well as the nape of his neck, killing him. The other gladiator is hit in her side, collapses as she struggles to breathe and slowly suffocates from the sucking chest wound. The public around them begin to scream.

Tika tries to turn her head to look behind her but Zilindar brings his hand with the whip up to block her eyes and shield her from the carnage.

"Don't look, Tika! Don't look.-I've gotchyou."

Infuriated at knowing he has been defeated, Dhaxi unsheathes the long, curved blade of his shamshir and yells out as he begins walking forward toward Tumhathil.

"AYREH FEEK!!"

The man smoking the cigar calmly walks past Zilindar from behind and removes it from his lips before glancing up at the adjacent building and making a sharp whistle. A blank white-masked figure leaps from the rooftop-a two story fall-and lands into a roll before seamlessly returning to their feet and charging at the D'homani. Dhaxi, seeing the threat, swings his sword in a horizontal slash to the threat but the blade finds nothing but air as the figure drops to its knees and slides in front of the slave trainer, taking one of his ankles with it. As Dhaxi falls to the ground, letting go of his weapon in the process, the figure gets on its feet, turns back around to face an adjacent building to the one it leaped from, and makes a fist before pumping it downward. A single bolt, fired from the crossbow of an unhooded Sivyne wearing a similar white mask to the first figure, shoots from the rooftop of the building and flawlessly impacts the calf of Dhaxi, causing him to cry out in pain and stop him from completely getting up.
Regardless of the pain, Dhaxi attempts to reacquire his blade but finds it difficult to do so with the foot of the mysterious cigar smoking man on the other end of it.

The man removes the stogie from his lips and leans over, staring directly into Dhaxi's eyes. The gladiator trainer stares directly back as the robed figure with the blank white mask, with only the features of two rectangular holes cut to see through, unsheathes a long stiletto dagger and hands it to the apparent mastermind of the entire show.

...
"WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE?!!" Dhaxi screams at the man, confused at what was happening.

The man smirks with a single chuckle.

His smirk drops back down to a blank expression.

"The last thing you wanted to see today."

Just then, the spectators cried out in horror again as the man forces his cigar into Dhaxi's left eye. The slave owner screams in pain, matching-even seemingly surpassing-the volume of the crowd. The man tosses the stick away and replaces it with the stiletto, pushing his left hand down against the screaming man's upper back before violently and very much forcefully shoving the pointed dagger up through Dhaxi's abdomen; once, twice, thrice, leaving it in-even shoving it as deep as it would go-before pulling it out and handing the blood-soaked dagger back to the masked figure who bows and sprints off.
The man casually removes a cloth from his pocket, wiping his hand clean to the sounds of Dhaxi coughing up and choking on blood through what is left of his terror-filled screams as he slumps forward and collapses onto his side in a fetal position.


After cleaning his hand, the man calmly produces another cigar from a steel tube and effortlessly cuts the head before putting it to his lips for a cold taste. He removes it with a dissatisfied expression before cutting just a little bit more off and testing it again. Apparently having found the right amount of fullness in the draw, the man expends another match and lights the new gar to the sound of the struggling and dying at his feet.

"Greetings," the man offered aloud, seeming to be addressing the other slave master, though he receives no response. Instead, Zilindar and Tumhathil wait for confirmation, glancing at each other before returning their gaze to the immediate threat to them.

The man turns around, removing the cigar from his mouth.

"Pardon my manners. I know, such circumstances are not the most ideal for making a first impression."

He approaches. Tumhathil flanks the approaching man as he slowly closes the distance to Kail. The man's voice lowers to a conversational volume as he draws close.

"Zilindar Kail. An owner and trainer of gladiators. Bets on his own fights to make extra money from each one to support his adorable little daughter, Tika, after her mother abandoned them."

The man flaps his fingers down twice at the child in Kail's arms and offers her a special little "hello" of her own.

"Currently is in a bit of a bind after illegally acquiring an Imperial fugitive as his newest fighter."

Tumhathil's eyes dart back and forth between the two men at the revelation that his master had acquired his new duuthesh as an illegal slave. Kail stares at the cigar man, shocked at what he had just heard. His bearing somewhat fractured.

"H-how-...how did you-?.."

"-Lucky guess," the man interrupts before taking another draw.

"Lucius. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Mind if I take a bit of your time for a moment? I'd like to discuss something with you."

Kail remains silent. The man continues regardless.

"Zilindar, I think you have the potential to make both of our lives a whole lot easier. My employer would like a word with you, in regards to making this current mess you're in go away completely. Worry not about that business a moment ago, for that is but an act of good will he offers to you."

Tumhathil watches as his master's expression does not move an inch, other than the single bead of sweat sliding down his temple. Yet, he could swear something was different within the man...

...

Little Tika tugged at her father's tunic.

"D-..daddy?"

Finally, Kail moved, raising his stance as he pulled the end of his whip back toward him and, still holding his daughter, pinched low on the whip and began maneuvering it into a coil.

"Take me to him," he muttered quietly while snapping the strap of his belt to lock the whip back into place.

Tumhathil gazed upon the clean man while he puffed on that cigar of his. His claws tickled the air.

What exactly happened last night...Kail?

The lion glared at the man before them...and then retracted his claws.

-

Lucius led them through the market. Everything seemed normal other than the unmistakable feeling of eyes on them. At first, Tumhathil looked to the rooftops, where he expected to see the men from before, but found nobody.
...Then it dawned on him that it was the regular patrons around them who were staring at the lion walking among them and he finally remembered that it was normal to have eyes on him in public. Tumhathil sighed, frustrated in his paranoia but only partially relieved.

He still could not shake a feeling of discomfort...of his presence of power eroding into impotence-into a creeping helplessness.

Where his master was leading them, he knew from which there was no returning...

No escape.

The man had looked around before turning a corner into an alleyway and then stopping at a side door for one of the buildings. He then raised his hand and lightly knocked with two fingers. A quick double tap on the surface.
...
The door cracked, revealing a frail elderly man, looking far older than most when they pass-an appearance of being in somewhere in his seventies or eighties.

"May I help you?" He asked.

Lucius, with a face straighter than that of a 'Taokhari's Teeth' champion player, spoke to the old man in a low voice.

"You may, old man."

The man smiled sweetly and shut the door. There was a pause before the door opened once more, this time much wider.

"He's waiting for you."

Lucius furrows his brow as he walks past, clearly surprised.

"That man always seems to find a way to be early to everything. Ain't no rest for the wicked, I suppose."

The men followed behind their guide, through what appeared to be a small warehouse of sorts. Gas lamps lined the walls though none were lit. However, windows high on the walls illuminated the room to a dim with their light. Shelves holding stock of leather and fabric occupy the room. Crates sit among the shelves and around the floor; occasionally stacked on one another.

A man stands among the crates in the dark at the end of the room.

Lucius halts in the middle of the room, half way to meeting the figure. Kail and Tumhathil followed the actions of the other man and stopped just short of him.

"I brought him. As requested," Lucius says, more stating a report than stating anything one could not already see.

The man nods.

"Good."

He raises his palms, gesturing them out in front of him.

"Thank you, Lucius. C'm'ere."

He had an odd accent, one which Tumhathil did not recognize however there was no mistaking that the man was not from Opynonias. Though he had little knowledge of the land, he knew the Empire's borders expanded far and wide.
Perhaps, the man was from another far-out Imperial province? It was entirely possible.

Lucius walked forward, approaching the man who stepped from the shadow to offer a handshake. His appearance was much more...normal than expected. Where Lucius had an unmistakably cold presence about him, this new man seemed much...different.
His light brown hair extended down to his upper neck and then halted in a dramatic cut to form an ugly bowl cut. It was odd, considering the man was not dressed half-bad. His attire seemed befitting of a successful businessman; a made man. He also had a goatee and brown eyes which imitated that of a regular tradesman.

Now within range, the man reached out and gingerly placed his hands on Lucius' shoulder blades in an odd sort-of embrace. The whole scene just seemed uncomfortable to the Felidin...

"How are you, my boy? How's your girl?"

The man's arms extend out, distancing the two gentlemen so that they may look at each other but the employer's hands seem to remain on Lucius' arm and the back of his neck.

"I'm good, boss," he mumbled through the cigar still in his mouth. "She's probably a lot better now, t'tell you the truth. We're not really 'a thing' anymore."

"Ah-I'm sorry, Lucius, she was a good girl." The man said.

"Nah, it's fine. I'm the one who dumped her," Lucius said with a cheeky grin.

The foreigner rolled his eyes playfully.

"Now," he said, gesturing toward Tumhathil and Zilindar.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I have called you here. To business then?"

Tika nervously stared at the man who began expressing himself with exaggerated hand gestures. Her father also watched him.

"My name is Avoni di Lorenzo de Noppona and I understand we've a common purpose-to an extent. You're looking for your escaped slaves. One in particular but the other would also be preferred. Am I correct to assume this?"

Zilindar, after a short pause...slowly nods...

Tumhathil, for the first time since the conversation began, loses his bearing and looks over to his master.

Who else escaped in the commotion last night?

"Well then," Avoni continues, "I regret to inform you that your primary interest has been taken into imperial custody."

Kail's eyes widen but Avoni has not yet finished talking.

"All is not lost for you, however. You've no need to go into hiding-no you've not even need to relinquish ownership of all of your fighters and start anew. I can protect you from the wrath coming for you...all I request is a favor of you."

Tumhathil, again, glances over to his master, who has clearly become entirely interested in what Avoni had to say.

"I want the one known as Danairia Feyn. You will either give her to me..."

Avoni's posture straightened further. His hand gestures paused, leaving only a firm point directed at the slave master.

"...or you will give me undeniable proof of her...misfortune...Is that understood?"

Tumhathil quietly sighed. So it was Danairia who had escaped. She was one of the newer ones and quite the firecracker but he could not help but take a liking to the little elf, despite her temper. She may have behaved a bit obnoxiously but he always could read her well enough to know there was much more to her than she let on.

Zilindar nods nervously before speaking up.

"I could not find any leads before I was brought here. It may take a while to find-"

-"You've no need to worry about that," Avoni reassured, waving his palm in the air as if he were physically dismissing it before resuming his sporadic gesturing. "We know where she is-or rather-where she is going and have already made the arrangements to send you to Khi'ir and pursue them wherever it is they go to from there."

The slave master recoiled somewhat.

"Khi'ir? You're telling me she ALREADY gained passage to Syakh?"

Avoni shrugged.

"She had help. A good kid. Well-meaning. Someone a fair amount of people would be upset if something happened to him..."

It was Tumhathil's turn to be surprised. He could not believe what he was hearing from the mouth of the man before them. Whoever he was referring to was going to get a brutal wake-up call which he did not even deserve and, judging from what he saw with the white-masked men, it would certainly be the last he would ever receive...

"What of my daughter?" Zilindar asked, his grip tightening around her. Avoni smiled.

"She will be safe here. In good faith, I'll even look after her myself. I assure that you don't need to worry about her. I may not seem like the kind of person you would want around her..." Avoni chuckled. "...but I am a man of my word and I promise that I will treat her as I would my own until your return."

Zilindar stood quietly...looking around the room in nervous thought and lightly embracing the little girl in his arms.

"...Okay."

Tumhathil could not help but feel uneasy about everything going on around him...


...


The harbor was busy with passing sailors and citizens. Men and women of all walks of life carried on with their own personal business, now accompanied by two...new lives. A trained Felidin, tasked with protecting the life of his master, a man caught up in a shady situation he never wanted to be apart of for the sake of his life. One hunted someone he owned, the other hunted someone he understood and, to a limited extent, could even say he admired.
Both mixed in with the public masses. If people could only fathom just how unique the circumstances of everyone else's business was...

"Here," Lucius said, gesturing to the ship before them. "This is the ship that will take you to Khi'ir. The Nerodia. Her crew's made up of employees of Avoni so you may be able to request passage with them if they're at least somewhat close to you. Don't worry about contacting us either."

Lucius tilts his head as he turns just enough to look at Zilindar.

"We'll always be watching you, to an extent. Just keep in mind that we'll know if you need us. Expect visits from my associates too. Now, get going."

Zilindar turned to Lucius.

"My daughter. What about her?"

"Don't worry. I'm not the one who will be taking her back," the shady man chuckled. "I've got business of my own anyway, so someone else will be here shortly to pick her up. You may leave her here and I'll keep an eye on her until they get here."

Zilindar sighed before turning toward his bodyguard.

"Tumhathil," he said, his cold, regular tone toward him somewhat returned but still at a mild level. "Board the ship and wait for me there."

His eyes seemed especially threatening. The lion's master clearly was in no mood for any slack so Tumhathil obeyed with haste, stepping off down the dock and climbing the ramp up to the side...
...but something itched at him. Rarely did he ever disobey Kail but...this was no ordinary situation.

The slave fighter glanced around and immediately turned the second he stepped on deck and made his way into the ship's deckhouse. Upon opening the door to the room, he found nobody currently occupying it and quickly took advantage of its current status by hurrying through and gently cracking open a window adjacent to where Kail and Lucius stood.
What was he doing there? Why did he behave like this?...He could not say, for even he did not fully understand his actions but something compelled him to listen. Something told him it would be worth it to listen to his master...

After seeing the hulking lion disappear behind the hull of the ship, Zilindar set his daughter down.

"No, daddy!" She protested before imitating her father's command for carrying her.

"Up-up!"

The man held his little girl's hand.

"I'm sorry, Tika. Daddy's got to go."

"Go?" She questioned, making it obvious how much she actually paid attention to the talking adults. "W-where are you going?"

Zilindar has traveled far and has done many things. He has seen all kinds of people and enslaved many people he would not have considered to even being close to deplorable. He has led good people to their unfortunate deaths countless times and has withstood the abandonment of someone he once whole-heartedly cared for.

Yet, none of it could have prepared him for the heartbreak he was feeling now...

"I couldn't tell you exactly. I'm probably going to a lot of places and I don't think many of them will be close."

The little girl's eyes began to express panic.

"B-...but-! But, why?!"

"Because I need to. If I want to keep you healthy and well, I need to," He said.

"No!" Tika yelled. "I-I don't want you to! I wanna go with you!"

Zilindar frowned.

"I'm sorry, Tika. I can't do that."

"But why not?!" The girl whined. Tears formed in her eyes.

"Because," her father explained. "I don't want you to get hurt. This is something only I can do. I have to-...I have to do some things that only big men, like me, can do. It's no place for pretty little flower like you."

"No!" she yelled again. "No! NO!"

Zilindar pulled the little girl close into a hug which almost swallowed her.

"I'm sorry..."

The little girl said nothing. She simply hugged her father back in defeat...

Tumhathil watched the scene from above...sighing before shutting the window.

The rumors were true...It appeared Kail was indeed a human being after all...


...


The ship set off without trouble. Tumhathil and Kail may never had been able to turn back before but it had never been as apparent as it had been now. They were on a ship, bound for their destiny and there was no stopping the journey which lied ahead of them.
They may have been quiet, but both men could not shake the undeniable knowledge that they were going to succeed in their endeavor...or die trying...

The setting changes from Opynonias to Khi'ir

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Sanvi
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Danairia had woken tired. It had been a long night for her and only but a few hours were salvageable for getting any rest.

They may say that elves can survive with very little amounts of sleep compared to other races but, if it were not for the numerous examples of living proof found in her home domain, the drunkard would have probably laughed in the face of whoever made such claims. If Danairia somehow woke up refreshed with less than five hours of sleep, it would have had to be the result of some kind of religious miracle.

The elf slowly shuffled outside to join the others. It was easy to see that she was definitely late. Everyone was crowded around a table with Bertholdt standing on top. They seemed to have been speaking about planning for the journey ahead but Danairia could only guess. She yawned, listening to the others as her body began to wake up. No doubt, her feeling of refreshment would only last but a few hours before exhaustion set in again.

Still, despite her lack of comprehension toward the situation, she did hear something she liked from Jolloc.

"Yeah, you tell 'em, big guy!" She called out through a drowsy smile.

Caspian smiled and turned with the intent to greet Danairia with a 'good morning'...only to quickly change his expression to one of embarrassment and immediately turn back to look away.

Bertholdt sighed as he looked at the Tlamani...who seemed to completely disregard the step of getting dressed for the day, as her blouse was the only thing shielding everyone from the sight of her undergarments.

Danairia raises her fist into the air.

"Fuck you, society, AND your pants!"

Lir sighs and snaps her fingers. With a quick spell, Daniaira is suddenly disguised as Danairia wearing pants...

"Hey!" The elf protested.

Talk continued regarding the chaperoning of the three problem children in the group and it eventually evolved into talks of taking Danairia to the library to help look for maps...Something Berthodt did not seem to think would be a great idea. His first choice in words were certainly not the best; such was made obvious by the presence of one more death-glare in the vicinity than it previously had.

The muscum cleared his throat before starting again with a much more reasonable request, suggesting more of an apprehension toward her recent displays of violence than an insult to her intelligence.

"Hey, as long as other people don't cause trouble, I'll-!"

Berthodt stares at Danairia with a blank, tired-looking expression on his face.

"...Okay, fine, I promise."

The conversation continued with Antius questioning the customs and his concerns about the possibility of rumors floating around about them due to their appearance.

"You mean SOMEBODY ELSE out of us noticed?! I was beginning to think none of you owned a mirror! Fuck-you'd think SOMEONE out of a group of people made up entirely of blondes with green eyes would have some kind of self-awareness and I was beginning to think there wasn't anyone like that!"

Lir furrowed her brow at the obnoxious girl.

"I'm not blonde-"

"-I know," Danairia interrupts, "you're even worse!"

With business already discussed, the conversation had only deteriorated from there and it was not long before the 'meeting' shifted to a discussion of topics that had very little relation to the matters at hand. It was decided, though: Danairia would accompany Bertholdt and Caspian to the library, under the supervision of Antius.

...

After putting on her gear and some non-magically assisted pants, Danairia followed everyone through the streets, up the steps and through the entrance of the grand library; through the courtyard and through the rows upon rows of hopelessly tall bookshelves, passing people of every kind and race all along the way.

She felt a tap upon her shoulder.

"Hey, Danairia..."

It was Caspian.

"What do you need, Cazzie?" She asked.

He smirked at the name.

"What exactly happened last night?" Caspian asked, observing Danairia's apparent limp for the first time. "You came back way later than anyone would have expected, I don't think. What did those guards do to you?"

Danairia sighed.

-

27th Breh: After leaving the others...

Danairia sprints through the gaps of the various shops and businesses of Khi'ir. Very few obstacles of importance, other than loose trash and the containers of garbage owned by the buildings in front of them, presented themselves in front of the young mercenary. She had been running a fair amount-about ten minutes-and was far from The White Sphinx by now. It was safe to say she would not be getting back to the rest of the group for at least another few hours. That was IF she could find them.

"Second time I've been chased by a government force the first day I am allowed to freely roam about a city. That has to be some kind of record," Danairia thought as she struggled for her breath.

Finally, there was an opening in front of her, signalling the end of this passageway. Between her and it though, there was a waist-high brick wall and about a four-foot drop. She stepped up onto the wall with a single wide stride and jumped over, soaring through the air before dropping into a roll upon contact with the pavement again and then stood back up.

As she placed her foot out in front of her to continue running, she cried out as pain erupted through her leg and it failed to hold up her weight, pulling her off-course to the right and forcing her against the wall for support.

"Dammit!"

The elf looked behind her and found the two guards already climbing over the wall and dropping down one at a time. They unsheathed their yatagans and slowly began to approach.

In a flash, it was over...

A figure had hopped down behind the two men from what almost seemed like nowhere and, as they turned around, rammed the dull top of a flanged mace into the underside of the closest one's jaw in one hell of a clean hit. At first, the man stumbled back and looked to be okay but it took only another second for the guard to stumble to the side and fail to stop himself from falling over, unable to remain conscious.
The next guard swung outside-low in an attempt to catch the man's left leg but found his blade intercepted by the upper shaft of the mace as the man stepped forward and brought his right side into the personal space of his opponent. The guard raised up his hand to try and grab the man or at least defend himself but it was too late. In one smooth motion from the low parry and step, the man brought his elbow up and only broke contact with the guard's weapon as he thrust the elbow directly into the guard's face. He stumbled back, bringing up his hand to feel his now bleeding nose and trying to put his sword in a guard-worthy position. The man, however, was easily able to maneuver around and under the guard's arm before reaching around his neck and armpit, gripping them in his arms and performing a side choke. It was only a short struggle before the second guard dropped to the ground and joined his friend in the lands of the dreaming.

Danairia was taken aback...
...but not for the reason one would expect.

"By the creator...it's you..."

The figure turned to the elf and smirked.

"I swear, Danairia, you almost spooked my girl."

Danairia had been casually acquainted with the man before her for years. Occasionally, they would work the same job.

He looked just as Danairia remembered him: A strong skinny build, like you would see on more flexibility-based fighters but with quite a bit more mass than someone of that type. He was not big enough to stand among the likes of the super strong, but he could certainly stand among the ranks of front line infantry.
His attire was that of a warrior's but not exactly what most warrior's would wear. Underneath his cloak, he wore a mail half-shirt which covered his entire waist but diagonally climbed to his left shoulder and down the length of his arm, accented by pieces of plate armor and a steel pauldron. The right side matched the lower half of his body, utilizing pieces of leather armor. Of course, his signature crossbow hung on from his baldric, next to his flat low-profile quiver, if you could call it that. It was more of a collection of small bolt pouches which firmly secured the ammunition down to his thigh. Underneath the hood of his cloak, he wore a nasaled coppergate helmet and mail coif, leaving his amber-brown, telling eyes and friendly smirk exposed for viewing.

"Aw, my pretty ass wasn't enough to keep your attention?" Danairia teased.

The man chuckled.

"You never even had my attention."

"Bullshit," the elf accused. "The time I drop kicked that little-shit gnome, I'm pretty sure I had your attention."

"I already told you," the man said while laughing, "even if he was a criminal, everyone there thought you were nuts because of that. I wouldn't say my attention was even close to the kind of attention you're talking about."

Danairia rolled her eyes.

"So, what is it you're calling yourself these days?"

"Dessirih," he replies.

"Desiree? Isn't that a girl's name?" She questions. "THAT ISN'T YOUR REAL NAME, IS IT?!"

"No," the man sighs. "That's not my name and 'Desiree' isn't my real name."

He pinches the bridge of his noes.

"De-ssi-rih. It means 'Dessorian Wind' in Dumic."

Not much is known about 'Dessirih'. He has made plenty of enemies among the upper echelons of the criminal underworld and every one of those enemies would very much like to see him burn. All because he refuses to leave them alone. Every so often, to help prevent his enemies from tracking him or hurting his family, he changes his alias to something else, usually regarding the place he is currently visiting. Just about every time Danairia saw him, the man had changed his name again.

By now, Danairia does not even bother trying when she meets him. Right off the bat, she simply asks what to call him.

"So, Desiree, you still doing merc-work?" The elf asked.

"You'll never see the difference between bounty hunters and mercenaries, will you?"

Danairia shrugs.

"We do the same-damn-thing. In my eyes, that makes us the same kind of people!"

Dessirih rolls his eyes this time.

"I track people down for a bounty. You wipe other people's asses if they'll pay you."

"-Hey," Danairia says, pointing at her friend, "I wipe other people's asses if they'll pay me ENOUGH to wipe their asses!"

...

"Exactly," Dessirih says flatly.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a bounty to stalk. She's cautious, smart, she's been a pain, and she's wanted alive-and I'd very much like to catch her this time around. A lot of money in this job."

Danairia chuckled as she began to heal her leg...but she had an idea...

"Hey, wait!" She called out. "Is there a way I can help? I'm a bit low on funds at the moment."

Dessirih stopped and shook his head at the elf.

"You're broke, aren't you?-"

"-Spent my last penny on a shot of arak, a half-hour ago.-"

"-Of course you did."

Dessirih quietly thought about it.

"Hm...I suppose so...I'm trying to get her away from other people before I get her but, every time she's even a little alone, she's cautious about her backside."

Danairia crossed her arms.

"No problem."

Dessirih leans forward at his friend and also crosses his arms.

"She's an assassin. Think you can handle that?" He challenges.

"Long story, but I've been a gladiator slave for the past few months. I can handle an assassin no problem. Probably isn't even that tough!"

-

"So what happened?"

Caspian listened intently to the story.

Danairia averted her eyes to her left on the floor...

-

Danairia struggles to reach her swords on the ground at either side of her in an alley while a small woman mounted on top of her is strangling her and repeatedly pummeling her in the face.

-

Danairia simply reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handful of silver coins Dessirih paid her for the help.

"Wow..." Caspian says impressed. "You actually took down a professional assassin?"

-

Dessirih hops down from the roof of a nearby building, skillfully leaping from ledge-to-ledge to get down. Immediately after landing on the surface, he approaches the assassin from behind and puts her in a choke-hold before pulling her off of Danairia and dragging her back. The assassin pulls Dessirih's arm just enough to protect her neck with her chin and steps back, moving her left arm around to clutch the other side the man's waist while grabbing his right wrist and pulling him down around her with a forward tumble.
Using the momentum, Dessirih rolls over and grasps the assassin's left hand, now that it was exposed and against his chest, and wrapped his legs around it before pulling it up for an armbar.


-

"Well...I helped..."

-

"Thanks for giving me an opening. I've been waiting so long to get this lady and, damn, I wouldn't have been able to do it without-"

Dessirih finishes binding the assassin and looks up at his companion to find her still face-up on the ground.

"...Danairia?"


-

"...Let's just keep moving.-OH LOOK! BOOKS!" Danairia exclaims, pointing at one of the many bookshelves they pass as they begin to approach what seems to be one of the librarians.

The setting changes from Khi'ir to Foreign Quarter

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Sanvi
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“A day on the street, a fine day,” Jolloc walked with both of his arms crossed on his head to reveal his flexing biceps beneath his spaulders, “You agree?”

Huo paid no heed to Jolloc as his eyes wove through the crowded and buzzing marketplace. A multitude of voices clamored. Syel’Breh had yet to reach its conclusion as the smell of incense and myrrh alongside fresh yams and sweet bread congregated in the air.

“We could have waited for them to come back before heading to the market…” Lir said, “Though, I don’t mind a day out in the city. It’s certainly a change of scenery.”

She preferred to walk in front of Sanvi in case the Kaleth girl forgot restraint and brushed her aside with those wings into one of the stalls. Lir ambled with her hood drawn back. She no longer feared the assassins as she did back in Dessor. Though she did keep a wary eye every now and then, but the Foreign Quarter made it more difficult for her to distinguish an Imperial from a native.

“I agree, the fresh air is good for all of us, but you especially Miss Lir,” Jolloc’s eyes turned to her, “That old man…” he shook his head, “Are you two really a couple? I never would have pictured…” a coy smile spread on his face.

“One, he’s not an old man, why does everyone think that… And two that’s none of your business,” Lir dashed her burning green eyes at the orc briefly.

“Well it becomes my business when another man enters territory that I thought was fair game. I want to know if I still have a chance,” Jolloc chuckled.

“Territory? Why are we even talking about this?” Huo scoffed, “You don’t ever turn off the crap that spews out of your mouth, do you?”

Jolloc produced a false exaggerated pout.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Huo walked on.


Lir cut between the two of them, “Even if I wasn’t taken, you lack the maturity that I look for in a man. You never had a chance to begin with, darling. Don’t bother trying.”

Jolloc’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’, but his cheeky brows said everything. He followed his upturned lip with an exhale. He plucked a coin pouch from his belt and sifted through the many coppers and few silvers within.

“I forget that it’s Syel’Breh, there won’t be any meat until sundown,” the orc perused the various vendors and bazaars to find something filling.

“What is Syel’Breh? Some sort of holiday?” Huo glanced at the crowd, he suspected the people of Khi’ir had a reason to be festive. He never pegged anyone to be of the festive sort by nature.

The kids played along the half dirt half paved street of the assorted marketplace which seemed to grow and spread organically.

“It’s a holiday to celebrate the goddess of the moon, Zerysh,” Jolloc said, “We Syakhi, believe her to be the patron of fertility and growth.”

“Back in Dessor, the moon is known as Khylas, and he’s a god. But I don’t think he’s given this much respect,” Lir thought that little fact about the moon to be interesting.

“Ah, yes, I forget, all of you are from Dessor, no?” the orc nodded.

Huo would have refuted that, but he chose not to make much of it. Even if he spent most of his life there, he had been born in Syakh. However, details about his life were not important to anyone other than him.

“Best you get used to the culture here, you might appear disrespectful if you didn’t. Cities on the coast like Khi’ir, and especially places like this quarter, are lenient, but deeper in, if you fail to observe the customs or traditions,” Jolloc pretended to cut his neck with a forefinger.

“What is the penalty?” Lir asked, she preferred an exact answer. Typical of mages.

“Well, some places, take Asyral for instance, ban the use of magic by foreigners. Guards will have little stopping them from executing foreign mages.”

“How archaic!” Lir gasped, her brow knotted.

The orc shrugged, “It seems archaic to you, but it’s tied to the delicate matter of politics in this land,” his voice turned somber, “It’s for those reasons that insurgent groups like the Intifada formed. It’s all very complicated. I haven’t really grasped the nuances myself, but I’d rather spend time earning coin instead.”

“A noble pursuit,” Huo quipped.

The marketplace in the Foreign Quarter oddly agglomerated and continued to mesh as they ventured further. Various fabric cloths draping across buildings above the city streets along with the clotheslines provided shade. As the sun shone through their fibers the colors blanketed the faces of the crowd. The Osu found a vendor with pastries and fruits laid bare for them.

“Salaam aleikum,” the man said, which Huo understood.

Dhaxi taught him that it was a common Dumic greeting, mostly reserved for D’homani or natives of Syakh.

“You like apples, sahib? My pastries are with apple filling,” the baker gestured to his goods.

They paid for a few of the pastries and ate them as they went on. Huo considered it decent, but he could eat gruel without complaint as well. Lir’s journey had been paved without the comforts of delicious homecooked meals that she may have been used to back at home being a noblewoman herself. Her taste yielded before her survival when they first conflicted.

“I think we should talk to Captain Eiraendar,” the Osu fighter turned to the mage, “Maybe have him ready on the other side of the desert with his ship to take us back to Dessor.”

“I doubt he’ll be so kind as to wait for us on the far side of a continent, we don’t even know where our trek will lead us and where the nearest port will be afterward,” Lir interposed.

Huo nodded, she had a point.

Jolloc nudged Sanvi, “I’ve always wondered what it feels like to have wings. I imagine them to be cumbersome and annoying. You’ve been quiet, care to give your thoughts on our little expedition, thus far? We haven’t left, but input from everyone involved could go a long way.”

While the others continued strolling, Lir stopped at a stall and eyed some of the work on the kerchiefs. She stooped to touch the soft silk with her fingers. It reminded her of her mother’s. She wondered how her parents fared back at home. She wondered if they had already been executed for treason.

A man interrupted her thoughts, “Fine work, isn’t it?”

Lir heard the man’s crispness of accent when he spoke Common. She thought his voice to be deep with grating sophistication. She turned to see the man who spoke. He had a square jaw, dark blue emblazoned eyes, and dark brown hair.

“Yes, a fine work,” Lir nodded to him, “Though, I must say I’m quite surprised to meet a man who shares any inkling of interest in fabrics.”

The man chuckled, “One in a million. Paecus Ixipas, I am a merchant of fabrics myself. I find it helpful to peruse about the assorted fashions of the day.” he said and looked at her.

“Lir Syoelle,” the mage nodded.

She caught his eyes again for a split second, but she felt different. She suddenly froze. A burning sensation dragged across her spine. Her breath slowed to the point where she could hear each individual inhale. Fear.

Lir smiled and left.

She sought to regain her breath as she caught up with the others. She glimpsed back at him.

Paecus Ixipas watched on.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Huo Character Portrait: Antius Geminus Character Portrait: Danairia Feyn Character Portrait: Caspian Polarus Character Portrait: Sanvi
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[co-written with almostinsane and Captain Awesome]

Huo, Sanvi, and Lir sat at a small table in a tented restaurant located among one of the corner markets of Khi’ir. Jolloc had gone off to inspect some wares with no intention of purchasing. Though, if he did, it would have been out of his own pocket, which in itself did not go very deep. In the horizon among the many faces that shifted into the tents or out under the sun came the other half of their party. Huo could make out Bertholdt, Danairia, Caspian, Antius, and a dark faced dwarf with an enormous hammer.

Though, the Foreign Quarter saw the faces of many mercenaries wielding all sorts of strange weapons, so no particular gasp of surprise escaped anyone.

Still, the Osu fighter’s eyes looked askance at the newcomer.

Bertholdt approached them, “Ladies and gentleman,” his eyes darted about the restaurant, “Where did our Orcish friend go?”

“The market,” Huo replied, “Who’s she?” he nodded his head toward the dwarf.

The dark skinned dwarf stepped forward and Bertholdt introduced her, “This, is Niobe Martel. She has offered to accompany or journey.”

“Hello, it is my honor to join your journey. I am a runemage, I believe my services will be invaluable to your cause,” she bowed her head, “I am aware you’re under contract,” her eyes scanned across the eight other members.

“I have no interest in joining said contract, I simply wish to journey to a place thought to mythical. One day, p’rhaps ‘tis something I may tell me younglings about.”

Huo felt her smile to be warm, and he disarmed himself of any sort of defense against her.

"That's surprisingly good natured of you..." Huo said.

"Do we collect quality people or do we collect quality people?" Antius asked rhetorically with a slight grin. Now that they were about to begin, he was feeling anxious. He had been dreaming of seeing the wide world for years both at the Academy and later in the Coliseum. Now, he was on a quest to discover an artifact on the behalf of a high elf princess. It was beyond his wildest dreams.

"I believe we should go over our plans of the expedition once more. I personally do not want anyone lacking knowledge of the whereabouts of the oasis we marked down just incase we became separate."

"I second the mage," Danairia said, lazily raising her hand before reaching back and producing one of her flasks from the small of her back.

"I can barely read the language, let alone speak it."

The drunkard unscrewed the cap on the container, giving the air a slight tinge of the rum from before on the Flying Dwarf, and splashed it back.

"I'd rather not get lost in a country that I can only speak enough to order a drink or two in."

"Very well," Bertholdt nodded.

They headed back to their inn for the night.