➶ quest

[Wolvine]

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Ａｌｙｃｅ  Ｔｏｂｉａｓ  Ｖａｕｘ

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Ｈｕｍａｎ  Ｓｐｙ

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Ｗｉｔｈ：  ｔｈｅ  Ｐａｒｔｙ

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Screaming, generally speaking, wasn't a good thing. In best case scenarios, it was irritating, in worst, it indicated imminent danger and doom. Unless of course, she was the one causing the screaming. Then it was a sign of a job well done. This was the first time Alyce could recall genuinely enjoying the sound. It was somewhat sadistic perhaps, in a way that she normally was not, but there was something gratifying about witnessing Fabian screaming like a child. And then he was sick. Truly this was a day of rare events.

The rogue groaned a little as she straightened herself, and began to pick between the dead bodies for anything that still might be useful. It was unfortunate that they'd have to leave the corpses here for the scavengers, but she wasn't keen on sticking around long enough to bury them. The animals could have them. Carefully, she removed the coin purse from the decapitated corpse of the knight, Emery. She found herself wondering if he had a family. If he did, if they did, well, they must have known when they left Aelhaven they were unlikely to return. Death happened. It was unfortunate, but it happened.

Once she'd collected everything that could be useful while still reasonably being carried by three people (of which two were injured) and a donkey, she limped back over to the rest of them. The thought of ambling through more of the forest from hell while injured was distinctly unappealing, but the alternative was hanging around with horse guts and dead people and waiting for the bear to come back. "Onwards then?" she suggested, grinning weakly.

*

Her feet ached with the intensity of a million damn... things... which were painful. Painful and never ending. God. She couldn't think straight. They'd been on the move for days, their injuries making progress even slower. Everything blurred into green and pain, and she'd lost track of time completely. She'd babbled her way across the Narivi, slipping in and out of lucidity. She wasn't sure if that was due to an injury, or just going mad from overexposure to nature and sleepless nights. She hadn't had a good night's rest, haunted as she was by shadowy bear-like apparitions.

They had, at last, reached the light at the end of the leaf-hell tunnel. The forest melted away abruptly, going from trees with trunks as thick as six dwarves to stumps within only a few paces. The sudden light was blinding. Blinking away the spots from her eyes, Alyce breathed in the far-off scents of cow dung and disease. It was mostly wishful thinking, since they were still a couple of hours away from the nearest town, according to the map. God, she missed people.

With a much more jubilant spring in her step, Alyce continued down the track, and though she refrained from chattering, she couldn't quite help herself from humming a rather out of tune version of an old marching song. She couldn't recall the original lyrics, something noble and pure she was sure, but the variant she and her fellow cartel members had concocted involved descriptions of a beautiful, lightly-clad (increasingly so as the song progressed) woman and rather sinful acts one could commit with such a lady.

The sun was just arching into the centre of the sky by the time they reached Daemarel. It was a fairly large trader town, nothing like Aelhaven of course, but still considerable enough to be noted on even the most lacklustre maps. Alyce noted with discomfort how plainly they stood out. They had no caravans, no goods to sell, and they were obviously not locals. A few people shot curious glances their way, but most were put off enough by their fairly obvious weapons to not linger their gaze for too long. Alyce frowned a little, trying to make herself seem small. She didn't like being noticed. Things went wrong when you were noticed.

"Healer first," she insisted, her chest offering a painful agreement. "Then, drinks." God, she needed to get drunk. She needed to get so drunk she forgot everything about magic and bears and pain she knew. Her eyes slid across the buildings, but everything was foreign. It would take far too long to look for places by themselves, and everyone else seemed too unnerved to answer questions truthfully, if they did indeed know anything. She felt odd, being in a place that was not her own. She knew every ditch in Aelhaven better than her own family. She knew all its tricks and turns. Daemarel was foreign, and she didn't like it.

[Kitty~.]

a l l y a
role;; rogue archer
race;; elven
tagged;; the party
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Getting Fabian to his feet was a struggle, even more so when he pronounced the state of his health. Ordinarily, she would have leaped away with the speed of a startled doe, with no qualms in letting him fall. However, as per the little warning and his sickly state, she was forced by convention to stay at his side whilst the warrior retched by her feet. Allya was not partial to comfort, this none of it came. When he was finished, she decided that certainly, his favoured more of transport would be the donkey. Without her help, he could hardly stand. It would be tedious and time-wasting for him to walk.

Muscles heaving under the man's weight, Allya steadily guided Fabian over to the donkey. If he hoped for her aid mounting the beast he was in for a rude shock. She had not the strength for such a task. He could hang over it like a sack of potatoes for all she cared. She made towards Alyce, not bothering to return her bitter smile as the elf lead the way.

-

Even with her shortcuts and her carefully-planned routes, the three did not leave the forest until a few days later. Along the way, Allya had thought it good to pick up herbs and other assorted goods found along the trails. She made sure that Fabian did not fall into a coma or, you know, die, but beyond her minor methods there was little she could do to help.

The sight of the forest edge was an immense relief, to say the very least. As a nomad, she was quite used to travelling great distances, but this adventure had been tedious and tiring. It reminded her precisely of why she rarely had companions. Nevertheless, she was glad to be out of Narivi. She never thought she'd see the day where she'd rather be in a town than a forest, but if they'd learnt anything from their quest, it was that there was something incredibly wrong with those woods.

Preferring to frequent away from the human cities, Allya had only been to Daemarel once or twice in her travels - and only for brief periods of time. The last time she was there she'd been chased down by some guards after stealing some goods. She hoped she didn't come across them again; they'd been particularly grumpy.

As they entered the city, Allya notably slouched, green eyes flickering from person to person out of caution. There was a reason she avoided areas like this. She, and the others around her, stuck out like a sore thumb. Imagine the sight - a grimy elf, a limping spy and a full-grown bloodied man by a donkey. They weren't exactly inconspicuous; quite the opposite in fact. Letting out a huffy breath, Allya continued uncomfortably into the town.

At Alyce's words, she gave an agreeing nod. Unfortunately, last time she was here she hadn't noted any particular clinics and any healers she might have known had long since left. She supposed they'd have to stumble around a little; hope for the best. "Healer, sure, but I'm going to have to skip out on the drinks," she said curtly. Alcohol had never been Allya's forte. Hopefully, by then she'd be long gone anyway. Unless they had some type of life-changing, world-turning purpose they wished to share, she saw no reason to join the two further on their quest. Hadn't her use expired? Wasn't it just to get them out of Narivi? She remained silent, pondering on the matters as her bare feet continued to guide her.

[Keriae]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
ＦＡＢＩＡＮ ＳＨＡＲＰＥ
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
❛''''ＡＮＤ Ｉ＇Ｍ ＮＯＴ ＢＡＣＫＩＮＧ ＤＯＷＮ
I WILL STAND MY GROUND! I WILL STAND MY GROUND!
⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯

★x
★
★

ＢＥＣＡＵＳＥ
ａ ｃｈａｍｐｉｏｎ ｉｓ
WHAT THEY CALL ME NOW!

★
★
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xxxxxxxage: twenty seven
xxxxxxxclass: warrior-knight
xxxxxxxtagged: party

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Somehow Fabian did manage to get onto the back of the donkey. He didn't know how, but he ended up sitting as he really should, astride the animal, though it had to be noted that he was nowhere near looking like he was capable of riding, for he straight up slumped against the equine's neck, pale face buried in the bristly, coarse mane on its neck. The warrior stayed like that for some hours, barely hanging on to the animal, drifting in and out of consciousness and lamenting their ill luck.

-

Days later, Fabian had somewhat recovered - enough that he no longer had to ride the donkey in the wake of his injuries. The man was well enough now to be able to take his own weight, though his arm still thrummed pain if he so much as moved it more than a couple of inches too quickly. The good news - in his opinion - was that his short term bought of amnesia had now come to an end and he could now remember what had happened and how he'd ended up in such a state. That didn't mean he was happy about it, or that he would be back to full health any time soon. At least he could walk and lead the donkey along. At least he was alive.

The town they eventually entered was large, and busy, though neither as much as their home. They stuck out in the worst way possible, people glancing at them and then looking away. He could hardly blame them: none of them had so much as washed the blood from their faces, and they all stunk to the high heavens. A healer was their top priority, and then a bath and fresh clothes. Normally hygiene did not bother Fabian, but after dragging themselves from the depths of the hell-hole behind them for an exhausting, innumerable amount of days, the man needed to feel scolding water on his skin.

Nevertheless, he had no idea of which way to head. He had no idea where the nearest tavern was, or the nearest bathhouse, or the nearest healer. They couldn't afford to hobble amount for much longer; their limited coin meant they'd end up in some dingy inn somewhere full of bed lice and dirt. The donkey behind them stamped a hoof at the crowd but otherwise remained calm. Clearing his throat, the man called over to a woman behind a nearby market stall. "You! Tell us where the nearest healer is." His voice hardly carried the commanding, authoritative lilt it had before, but it was enough to terrify the woman in doing what he asked. Or maybe it was his appearance that did that.

"Carry on until you reach Bakers' Lane; its the third to your right. Follow that until you reach the ginnel on your left; it's down there, ser." She was obviously scared (who wouldn't be at the sight of them?) and Fabian had no reason to think she had lied to them. Giving the woman a nod, he started on that path and hoped the other two would follow him. The sooner they were treated the sooner he could drown himself in strong ale or wine.

['pyrrhic]

Mira Amara ;; forty + years ;;
rouge dagger wielder / poisons ;; elven female
with;; The Party. ;; xxx ;; xxx

The small, petite girl looked around the town. Newcomers, travelers, however you wanted to
put it. Most people cleared the way for her, and when they did, she showed them her straight
teeth and pushed them away. Her gentle image was tarnished by her curiosity. Inching closer
and closer through the crowd of people, she bit her lush lips and started to approach them,
carefully of course.

"You all look like you've been through Hell.. What got you?" She stood to where they could all
see her, and she walked with them, making people look away faster. Embrey showed a cocky
smile to the villagers as they started to give her a dirty look. "The healer's out, collecting herbs.
I was just there," She noted aloud. "But I'm quiet good at ailments and healing practices. If
you need help immediately." Mira smirked, it made her look devilish and she tucked her wavy
black hair behind her pointed ears.

The daggers X'ed her back, they were elvish, making them light and slick, with many eccentric
cut outs and designs, made from a silver metal with black hilts. Daggers also covered her body
in many different places, and a small needle that was dipped with posion held her hair into the
messy and careless bun she always had up, and the needle let two flowing amount of hair on
each side hang down. The tight leather corset hugged her body, and the leather pants helped her
move a lot better. Her belt held poisons and ailments, along with countless potions.

She tried to give him a potion with a white look to it, it sparkled in the light and was very odd
looking. She shook it before she tried to give it to him again. It was in a small glass bottle, a
look of beauty held onto the bottle as it was carefully glassblown. "It tastes absolutely and fully
terrible, but does wonders for strength." Nodding for him to take it, she still walked with them,
they hadn't stopped.

[Wolvine]

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Ａｌｙｃｅ  Ｔｏｂｉａｓ  Ｖａｕｘ

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Ｈｕｍａｎ  Ｓｐｙ

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Ｗｉｔｈ：  ｔｈｅ  Ｐａｒｔｙ

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Alyce watched, apathetic, as Fabian interrogated a poor woman. He had even less tact than usual, his ounce of usual politeness replaced with pure aggression. He held no respect here, but the manic glint in his eye probably prompted her to respond anyway. The woman gave instructions, a faintly fearful wobble to her tone, and Fabian marched off. Clearly, he was in a delightful mood. She shot the woman an easy grin and a nod of thanks before slinking off after the warrior, keen to stick by him just in case something else went wrong. It seemed unlikely that they'd be attacked in a place like this, but it was always a possibility. Perhaps she was being overly paranoid about being somewhere unfamiliar, but she knew from experience that there was little more dangerous than wandering streets you didn't know.

They moved on. Alyce looked at the buildings as they passed, trying to make sense of the place. She caught sight of a young girl in scruffy clothing, watching them a little more intently than most of the others. It wasn't with the air of someone enamoured with the adventurer lifestyle either, but rather with fierce concentration, analytical almost. She was sizing them up. When the girl noticed that Alyce had noticed her, she gave the tiniest of smiled before disappearing. "Watch your pockets," she warned, eyes following the child. She knew children like that. She'd been a children like that. Uh, child. Clearly the people of Daemarel knew hunger. That was good. It meant that buying information would be easier. In her experience, loyalties lasted only as long as the bread did.

When the elf appeared, it was immediately obvious that she was just as out of place as the rest of them. Apart from the unusual blades she had strapped to her back, she was clad in leather armour of moderate quality, with an array of exciting looking flasks hanging from her belt. The mistrustful squints from the residents only confirmed this. Alyce was surprised when the girl simply tried to hand Fabian a bottle with no more introduction than a question. If this was an attempted poisoning, it was a lousy one. Still, it would be best to avoid being drugged. She doubted Fabian would touch the stuff anyway. The elf followed them, and Alyce's eyebrows climbed only higher into her hairline. Fabian had been somewhat cagey about telling the woodcutter about what their purpose was, and they'd yet to share that information with Allya, so she'd let him take care of answering the question. Or ignoring the question. He was very good at that too.

"There's more than one healer, surely?" If there was another healer that they could afford, now that was the real question. If this was anything like Aelhaven, anyone who was able to do more than hand out a few herbs and concoctions would cost a fortune, a fortune they didn't have. Especially since the demand for capable healers had increased tenfold since the plague's outbreak. They might be forced to wait for this one to return, which would be very inconvenient. Depending on where they'd gone to pick their herbs and the location of certain demonic bears, the healer might not return at all.



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Ｉｌｉａｎ  Ｄｅｒｅｉ

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Ｅｌｖｅｎ  Ｍａｇｅ

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Ｗｉｔｈ：  Ｎｏｎｅ

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Rotting flesh. The smell was overpowering, but completely absent at the same time. The atrophy was spreading fast, so fast, too fast to stop. It spread from the corpse to the woman, to the child she held, to his own hand as he reached out to desperately try and stop it. The death circled around his arms, curling higher and higher up his body, curling around his chest and closing its fist around his throat and he-

Ilian woke with a start. His breath was quick and shallow, and he was shivering despite the beads of sweat rolling from his skin onto the straw. He'd had nightmares like this for weeks. They weren't getting any better. He pushed himself upright, rubbing at his forehead in an attempt to orient himself. His head tilted back as he focused on slowing his breathing, his eyes rolling up to look at the slats of the roof. The steaks of white along it suggested that the sun was wheedling its way into the stable. He lowered his head, observing how the dappled sunspots nearest him kissed the gain of the wood. He raised his palm, noting how the flecks flirted between fingers, a small smile tugging at his lips. His heartbeat slowed and his manner grew calmer, more relaxed, feeling pleased that he had the chance to appreciate this simple, almost dull in its commonness, natural beauty.

Still though, the light meant that he'd overslept. He pulled himself to his feet, flicking off stalks of straw from himself. Though he was grateful that the innkeeper had volunteered his stable as a temporary clinic, Ilian couldn't say that the bedding was the best he'd ever experienced. Still though, the stable was large, spacious, away from the centre. If it kept him safe, and there was room to treat his patients, well then, he'd be able to cope with a slightly more rustic shelter. Daemarel was, in some ways, the ideal place. Too small for its own templar order, but just large enough for most to be strangers to each other. Still though, he'd dallied too long. He'd have to leave soon.

He pulled down his cloak from the door he'd hung it on the night before and tugged it on, running his thumb along the lining of it as he did so, as was his usual habit. A ritual, almost, for good luck perhaps. A small reminder of home. He tied his hair back as he wandered over to where he stored his herbs, casting a casual eye across the stock. It was fine for now, and he'd be able to treat anything short of a major, prolonged sickness. The plague hadn't hit Daemarel has hard as some other places he'd been. He'd only treated three people who'd had it, and one of those cases had been questionable. Two of the three had recovered, but the last hadn't fared so well. Ilian shook his head lightly, trying to forget about the messy amputation, the screams of agony, the slow, slow death he could do nothing to prevent, the feeling of helplessness...

The door swung open, and Minerva walked in, carrying a loaf of bread. She gave him a smile in lieu of a greeting, carefully exaggerated so he could see it from this distance, and tossed the loaf at him. He caught it, but only just. She giggled at his fumbling, and he barely resisted the temptation to duck his head in embarrassment. Minerva was a sturdy woman of few words, but she was kind and smart, and had picked up the basics of healing within only a few weeks. There was only so much he could teach her: most of his ability lay with magic, and she had no such powers. Still though, she now knew how to deliver a child, how to set bones, what herbs would help cure a fever. He felt safe leaving the town in her capable hands.

"There's a templar in town," she told him, which almost made him choke on the bite of bread he was halfway through swallowing. He shot her a look, but she didn't elaborate until she felt like it. "I don't think he's looking for you. He wasn't asking anything about mages apart from the usual. Just passing by." He nodded, but even so, it felt like ice had slid into his veins. He'd have to be more careful. It was definitely time to start thinking about moving on. A gentle knock at the door drew their attention, making Ilian stiffen as he prepared for the templar to charge in and knock him to the ground, but it was only a young elven boy who appeared at the door, his face covered in grime. He looked timidly between the two adults, something clearly troubling him.

"My father's sick. He's coughing a lot and he's very hot." Ilian gave a small sigh. Sickness never slept, apparently. Before he could pull himself together and get into a work frame of mind, Minerva patted his shoulder lightly. Apparently she wanted to deal with this one. That was good, probably. She'd have to get used to him not being around. It didn't sound overly serious either. If she needed him, he'd be here. He watched her follow the lad out the stable and disappear up the trail towards town, unable to quite shift that feeling of unease that settled into his stomach.

[Kitty~.]

a l l y a
role;; rogue archer
race;; elven
tagged;; the party
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Absently strolling through Daemarel, Allya became slightly more relaxed as people began to become accustomed and simply ignore them. Of course a few mothers spared their filthy glares as they anxiously shied their children - you would think the three of them had started spouting obscenities! Alas, that might as well have been the case as Fabian all but snarled at an unsuspecting woman. The elven rogue was increasingly glad that she wasn't on Fabian's wrong side at current - or, she probably was, but he certainly hadn't displayed it as of recently. For that, she was relieved.

To their fortune, the lady gave them directions and didn't, in fact, contact the authorities. Giving a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, Allya followed obediently after Fabian. God only knew she could barely navigate around the town herself. For someone who could weave through forests easily, she certainly had trouble with the concrete cities of the human race.

Alyce's words drew her attention to the child in question - a rather filthy looking thing, almost as much so as herself. That was the thing about human cities. There were the poor and unfortunate everywhere. Elves and nomads didn't have such a problem. They lived off the land. Not off gold. The few possessions Allya owned had been either scraped off from an unfortunate victim or bought from the victim's cash. Food and water she found herself. Still, if the girl intended to steal off Allya she was in for a rude shock. The rogue failed to carry any money on her; the only thing that lined her pockets were herbs and stashed food. Most else had been taken by Fabian originally.

Allya was almost startled as the party was confronted by an elf, a few inches shorter than herself. She had a wicked smile that flashed white teeth and eyes that twinkled of mischief. Immediately, Allya was wary, her own green orbs narrowing into sharp slits. Feeling no need to entertain the girl with an answer, she settled with glaring steadily. Sure, it was good to see one of her own kind, but Allya knew just how sly they could be. It was the same with every race - you couldn't judge an individual by their ear shape or height.

Still, the elven woman continued to walk with them. At one stage, she had offered Fabian an elixir of some sort - Allya herself didn't recognise it; whether it was true or not was up for debate. As she didn't exactly dabble in healing, it could have been something beyond her skill level or, well, poisoned. She didn't like the chances.

Racking her brain, Allya tried to remember the last time she was at Daemarel. It hadn't been that long ago now, but with that disease spreading across the lands, many had come and gone. She chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip, attempting to recall the finer details of her previous visit. Actually, she did remember something...whispers of a mage who aided those less-fortunate. They worked on the outskirts of the town. "There should be a healer not far from here, hopefully," she supplied. "I heard of them upon my last visit - the specifics I'm unsure of, but as far as I'm aware, they're the best option we have." Feet pacing, she scanned for the quickest route to the stable they were rumoured to work at. It would have to be a few minute's walk, tops. Certainly, it would not be long before they reached them.

Soon enough, she sighted a few side-streets that would eventually lead them to the general area. It was out of the way of the leering eyes, but busy enough for minimal thieves. Quickly turning on her heel, she started off towards the suspected clinic.

['pyrrhic]

Mira Amara ;; forty + years ;;
rouge dagger wielder / poisons ;; elven female
with;; The Party. ;; xxx ;; xxx

Annoyed, she snorted under her breath something that wasn't audible. Mira strapped the potion
back to her belt, clearly giving up early. Mira rolled her eyes as she looked at the ground, a smirk
still plastered on her face as if something was funny, a human being hurt was funny. The elven
woman looked now like a royal mistress, and she sighed, looking behind her. For a short while she
said nothing to them, annoyed how many humans were around them. She'd always hated humans,
they were gross and cruel, but elves, they were more civilized, not by much though. Mira even
disliked her own race, they were all the same, greed, wine and war.

"Of course not! There's only one you can afford, by the looks of you." Mira snorted at the human
woman. Mira's voice was rude and sarcastic, but it was helpful information. "I mean, I haven't
actually met him..." She lied, she knew him from other matters, but that information was her
own. She knew she'd love to keep it that way..

Mira still walked with them, it was curious matter that adventures other than herself would be
here. She walked confidently with her leather boots, one foot in front of the other. She was
always the center of attention in a bar because of her looks. Many men wanted her to come over
to say hello, the most she'd do is stab them in the hand. Another reason she disliked humans,
but that was still her business.

"Curious you'd all be here like this." She noted aloud, then she looked straight at the three of them.
"Why are you here?" Exaggerating the 'are', she wasn't one to beat around the bush for answers.
Mira showed no emotion anymore, but she resorted back to her resting face. It showed no emotion
and mostly anger, but she wasn't angry. Letting her hair fall into her face, she looked around to
where the elven archer had lead her party.

[Keriae]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
ＦＡＢＩＡＮ ＳＨＡＲＰＥ
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
❛''''ＡＮＤ Ｉ＇Ｍ ＮＯＴ ＢＡＣＫＩＮＧ ＤＯＷＮ
I WILL STAND MY GROUND! I WILL STAND MY GROUND!
⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯

★x
★
★

ＢＥＣＡＵＳＥ
ａ ｃｈａｍｐｉｏｎ ｉｓ
WHAT THEY CALL ME NOW!

★
★
★

xxxxxxxage: twenty seven
xxxxxxxclass: warrior-knight
xxxxxxxtagged: party

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They were joined by an elf of some sort. Her presence made the hairs on the back of Fabian's neck prickle - he didn't like her at all. Especially when she offered him a small bottle of potion. It was milky white, slightly iridescent, and he didn't like the look of that, so he grunted and turned away from her. Frankly, he didn't know who she was, and she certainly didn't look like a healer, so he wasn't going to trust her with his injuries. So he ignored her and allowed Allya to take the lead as she stated something about maybe knowing a healer of some sorts or other who should be in their price range. After all, they had limited coin after the bear attack and they would have to fork out a fortune to get the treatment they needed.

And then, of course, the elven stranger had the nerve to ask why they were here and what they were up to. Like it was any of her business, the nosy little imp. They'd not even told Allya yet, and she'd been with them to days. As much as he hated to admit it, Fabian felt like the three of them had developed some sort of bond in the aftermath of their near death experience. Well, of course they had - things like that happened. In their delusional state, himself and Alyce hadn't even started on the subject of whether to tell Allya what they were up to, but the fact that only two of the original five had survived was dire indeed, and they could do with more numbers on their side. It was just telling the secret that kept him from saying anything. If more people knew, then they might be stopped. Why someone would do so was beyond him, because the Chalice of Alduin didn't exist, but it was better to ere on the safe side of caution.

"And who invited you along with us?" The man snarled, stepping around a large puddle on the cobbled, dirty floor. He definitely didn't want to step in that. The sooner this woman - elf - person left them, the better. He didn't trust her, from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. He didn't want her near any of them: he wanted to get his arm sorted properly and then drink himself into unconsciousness while he still had the chance. The brandy bottle had all but disintegrated in the fight, right when he could have done with it.

['pyrrhic]

Mira Amara ;; forty + years ;;
rouge dagger wielder / poisons ;; elven female
with;; The Party. ;; xxx ;; xxx
OOC: I have like no muse.

Mira was always one to like this type of conversation, it got her farther fighting back not only in battle but with rude remarks.
She knew damn well she was not welcome around them, and that they all disliked her, didn't trust her, and wanted her to go
away at least. She had a common dislike for her own species and humans especially, so it was n problem to snap back at him.
"Myself mostly," Mira jumped the puddle with grace and her hair flew behind her gracefully. A sharp smirk was plastered on
her face, and cold eyes were her specialty. Mira looked very bored with his remarks, and the other's words, but she knew she
was very useful. She wasn't just useful to herself, but to travelers like them, and like herself.

"I don't think you know, but I can be of much use to you all." Not only could Mira provide a transport to wherever they needed
without a word from the smuggler or anyone around them. Her 'friends' could get bounties off their heads, get them unknown
riches, and much more. No matter how much they disliked her, they could get endless use out of her, and because she was
curious, that was the only price. All she wanted to be paid was an answer to her questions, all of them, nothing left out of
her knowledge. A good drink of wine would suffice as well, a sack of leather in a pouch form hung on her belt, it contained
a certain drink, an elven version of wine. Mira let her hair fly in her hair, and she looked at them all in turn.

"And come on! You really think I'd poison you in front of people? Scratch that, I would, just a different way. That's only if you
piss me off, though, which your getting pretty darn close to that point..." Mira stopped, he really wasn't, but she'd touched
his limits, not touched, jabbed. She loved to jab at other's personality and limits, red lines and step away from their green
lines. Mira was just that type of person, the one to keep at other's limits in line, she didn't understand others with their non -
realistic limitations to their tolerance for her. The limits would have to stretch if they'd be around her. This human man was
very stubborn with tolerance, and she suspected the woman were to.

[Wolvine]

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Ａｌｙｃｅ  Ｔｏｂｉａｓ  Ｖａｕｘ

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Ｈｕｍａｎ  Ｓｐｙ

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Ｗｉｔｈ：  ｔｈｅ  Ｐａｒｔｙ

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Alyce couldn't quite suppress a snicker as Fabian told the stranger in no uncertain terms to clear off. The elf seemed, mostly, harmless, albeit irritating. If they ignored her, she'd probably go away. How long they'd be able to ignore her before one of them was tempted to take a swing however, was another matter entirely. She knew from experience it wouldn't take long for her to be itching to throw a knife at something. Fabian would be unlikely to hold her back in the same manner some of her comrades had done back in Aelhaven.

Her eyes flicked up as Allya suggested an alternative. "I didn't know you'd been here before." That was hugely comforting; they weren't completely blind. She absolutely hated not knowing. It made her skin prick, the sense that anyone could jump out at them. She'd had the comfort of knowledge all her life, running around the city since before she could talk in full sentences. Suddenly being cut from that was jarring. Rubbing her chest unthinkingly, she followed the archer as they winded they away from what appeared to be the main market area, and closer towards the edges of town.

The mystery poison elf continued to chatter, mostly focusing on Fabian. It seemed their ill-tempered warrior friend had found himself an admirer. Alyce smirked a little to herself, trying to catch his eye to offer a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, but he was striding purposefully and didn't look back at her, which was disappointing. He was practically radiating fury though, so perhaps it was for the best. He might just cave and attempt to hack off her head, despite his shoulder injury, which was clearly still bothering him, judging from his stiff posture and even more brusque manner than usual. She agreed with the sentiment; walking with what she was fairly certain was cracked ribs was far from enjoyable. It'd be great to be able to walk straight again. Her back was hurting from the hunching motion she'd carried for the past few days.

"You think we can use you?" She laughed, disbelieving. "Who do you think we are? Some mercenaries? Criminals?" Well, technically, she was, and Allya was a thief if nothing else. Still. They weren't planning on running this place anyway. "Is it normal where you come from for strangers to show up to people and offer dubious services?" A certain kind of service perhaps. This was bizarre. They had done nothing to attract this curious looking girl's attention. She obviously wasn't a local. "Is that what you want? Work? Can we just pay you to go away?" She'd be willing to give up a few silver for that good cause.

They came to a halt outside a stable. An inn lay relatively close by, and the location suggested that it was a traveller's establishment. Traders most likely, since she doubted people like them often made their way here. "Listen, I know you don't like us, but surely you've noticed we're not animals?"