Blood, Milk, and Sky

[VecaVjestica]

It seamed fate had plans for Nura tonight. As if the sudden arrival of the Templar Guard, the short Elf and his Necrid detector wasn't enough, when Riana returned to take another order, her hands were shaking like a leaf and she was as nervous as hell. "I beg you, take an ale to that woman in the corner...the one in black. I couldn't stand facing her again!" she said, the fear so obvious in her voice.

Nura took a discreet look towards the woman in question. Though a woman alone was an unusual sight at the tavern, it still happened every now and then. But this woman didn't look like a prostitute, or like one of the few women who owned land or some other kind of business, or a traveler seeking a place to stay. She had a certain aura about her...Nura couldn't tell exactly what it was. Riana wasn't exactly the brightest maid they had and, more than once, she was a source of raging rumors but, from the looks of it, it could be that she had a point this time.

"All right...I'll go serve her," Nura nodded to the girl and filled a tankard of beer, putting it then on the platter. "Oh, I almost forgot!" Riana exclaimed, turning to the Elf, just as Nura was about to leave, "The lady sitting in the corner alone sends you her regards, sire." Nura restrained herself from taking another look in the woman's direction. All of this was so odd...she didn't know what to think of it. Deciding to take Riana's mind of the strange woman and set it back on business, she ordered: "Stay at the bar until I come back and be sure not to break anything like the last time."

She then took the platter and walked over to the corner table, where the woman in black was sitting, greeting the customers she knew on the way. She used this time, no matter how short it was, to take a better look at their peculiar visitor. She was, there was no doubt about it, beautiful...but not in the way most women are. She reminded Nura of one of the daggers Sylius had in his room - it was made out of mithril, with a beautiful filigree handle, but it's strong double edge was deadly sharp and just long enough to penetrate the enemies chest and cut it's heart in half. Stunning, yet sinister, just like a snake, picturing her as a powerful demon was easy.

Nura sent those thoughts away. She met many snakes and knew very well they are just like any other animal - simple and obedient to their instincts. Good and evil are human categories; they had no place in the laws of nature. But this woman emitted a threatening vibe, not of the kind that some of the people she had the "pleasure" of serving had, with their weapons, strength and violent temper, but with a feeling of a much more certain danger...and Nura was not one of those who was easily frightened.

Still, like with every other customer she ever served, she kept a calm, hospitable look on her face and tone in her voice. "Milady," she said with a smile and a nod when she approached the woman, putting the tankard on the table, "As requested, a tankard of the Matchless Mine's finest. I hope you find it a pleasure, like so many of our customers do."

[Trippy Hare]

Calasi sat, and watched, and waited, just as she had been asked to do. For one such as her, time made little difference, as did food and water and sleep. She had ordered an ale merely to keep up appearances, though she could smell the thickening stench of fear mingling with the ardent musk of bravado. Someone here was itching for a fight.

"Milady," a cheerful voice broke her reverie. Calasi blinked in confusion. Usually her focus was sold and unwavering. She looked up, and saw that a different barmaid had brought her ale. The maid put th rankard on the table with a cheery flourish. "As requested, a tankard of the Matchless Mine's finest. I hope you find it a pleasure, like so many of our customers do".

Something seemed odd all of a sudden. The lingering perfume of magic filled her senses unexpectedly, though it was far more subtle than she had experienced earlier. Perhaps, then, it wasn't magic in the traditional sense, but the ancient magic that all living beings shared some degree of, though few knew of it. She sent a quick mental note of it to her Master, and smiled back at the woman.

[glow=red,1,30]"So long as the recipe Sylius uses hasn't changed, I am sure that I will,"[/glow] Calasi responded. This woman didn't smell of fear, though there was definitely an air of caution. Calasi understood that, and bore no ill will. If she ever met herself in a tavern, she'd be on guard, too. Especially if the tavern was so full of easily spooked toughs, all trying to seem unphased by the sudden sense of doom that had settled over them.

That just left the matter of the elf. Perhaps, if she were very lucky, there was more than one of them in this town. The thought made her mouth water, to such an extent that she had to take a deep draught from her tankard to keep others from noticing. It was delicious, exactly as she remembered it from all those years ago. For Calasi, this was not mere saying, but fact: her memories were undiluted by the passage of time, and further preserved in the mind of her Master. This ale tasted exactly like the last tankard she'd had at the Mine:

Nearly twenty years before.

[vodookyle]

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Riana exclaimed, "The lady sitting in the corner alone sends you her regards, sire." Kallias’s surprise was evident on his face as he placed the half-empty tankard back onto the bar. Having never been to Swordstroke Moors before, who could possibly know him here? There were, of course, always people who traveled frequently on the road he might have been met once or twice before. Tilting his head slightly without fully turning around the elf tried to get a glimpse of the lady sitting by herself at a table in the tavern’s corner and felt his surprise mingle with confusion.

He was absolutely certain that the woman and him had never crossed paths, and more there was a freaky…way about here which made his stomach turn. Unless the elf was very much mistaken, she was not human. There was no physical way of telling at this distance, but Kallias had honestly never been surer of anything in his life. But, he was here to relax, not ask questions. That tough job earlier was still making him weary, Kallias wasn’t drained of magic, and not even close to be honest, but he defiantly wasn’t in the mindset for using those powers right now.

Turning back to the bar, and his ale, Kallias sat still for another few seconds. Unfortunately, a small nagging voice that sounding suspiciously like his conscience, bugged him mercilessly. “You don’t think--,” Kallias paused for a moment, then shrugged, “Ohh, why not.” Pulling out his tiny amulet again, it had been starting to annoy him vibrating away anyway, and held it up in the tavern’s dim candle light. “Noitceted esrever.” he murmured, and the amulet reacted instantaneously, twirling like a snake for a few moments until it straightened out and became incredibly stiff at an angle. And of course, right towards the woman. “Damn.”

Kallias ended the spell and deactivated the amulet, for the time being it had served its purpose.

Finishing the last vestiges of ale in his tankard, Kallias stood up and made his way across the tavern, a nervous feeling in the elf’s stomach. Seating himself at the table directly in front of the woman who was, obviously, undead but still hauntingly beautiful, he spoke in a low voice so as not to unduly upset the other patrons in various stages of getting drunk. “Why are you here?”

[fyapaladin]

From his hiding place, Tuon could make out the vague forms that sat inside tainting their innards with this liqour; not that the elf hadn't tasted something intoxicating before, but nothing as crude as the ale that's scent was being carried by the very winds around. He made a face, 'how totally common,' he noted but at the same time spotted an elf mingling with the locals. His face contorted into one of shock and shame; how could one of his own bear to be in such a place as decrepid as this, granted it was better looking than some of the places he had seen but compared to the wonders of Bishal...

He watched as a maid, visibly shaken, made her way back to the bar. The direction of where she had come from he hadn't noticed but he did notice the way that the chief maid AND the elf looked over towards a corner that was obscured from view in his current position by the window. Moving so that he was on the other side of the window he looked again and saw a woman in black sitting down and staring. He found nothing odd about her but decided that if the Terran girl was all shook up he could at least check her out. He closed his eyes and felt out through the ground and walls, past the various people milling about in varying stages of liquor intoxication towards... HER!

His eyes sprang open and his irises contracted... She was the foul stench that he had encountered previously; she was the one in line with the undeads and, judging from the sheer power of the stench, she had been in close counsel with... IT! Tuon moved away from the window and paused he need to come up with a plan of action quickly, the people in this tavern were in great danger if she was still around. Who knew what buisness she had planned for this little place, apart from the obvious... EVIL!

[Trippy Hare]

Barax noticed a maid approach the bar with a look of horror frozen upon her features. Her hands were shaking, too, as if she'd seen a ghost. There were some whispered murmurs, about a woman at the bar...and something about the undead. Barax dismissed them, surely such things were nothing more than stories told to frighten children. Such creatures couldn't possibly exist in real life, for if there were as many as the legends said, and they were as powerful as the legends said, they could simply overrun the whole of Eshathar and be done with it.

The man sitting next to him, for Barax had decided that it was a man after all, pulled out a shining trinket from under his clothing, looked atr it intently, and muttered something in a language Barax couldn't understand. His head looked over towards one corner of the tavern, and Barax heard him say "Damn" under his breath. He followed the stranger's gaze...

And saw what he could only assume to be the focus of the sudden attention: a woman, clad all in black, with skin like the whitest ivory. Barax was speechless for a moment, awed into silence by the stranger's beauty. But there was something not quite right about it, as if her face might split open and something dark slither through.

He downed the rest of his ale, it really was quite delicious, and with a curt nod, placed the requisite currency, with two or three coins extra, on the counter. "I think perhaps I've had enough ale for the moment. I do thank you for your hospitality, as well as the old ale tap. I'm afraid I must temporarily take my leave, though hopefully I'll be back soon."

Barax carefully pocketed the ale-tap, stood up off of his stool, and made his way to the door. He kept his glance straight ahead, past the many other patrons, past the mysterious stranger. He felt a chill run up his spine the closer he got to her, until finally, when he was a mere pace away, it felt as if pure ice had been poured down the back of his tunic. He gave a curt nod to the man who had been sitting next to him at the bar, and stepped out the door.

Once he was a few paces outside, Barax bolted to his armor. Daylight was dwindling, and he would need to repair, or replace, whichever seal was leaking immediately. Something about that woman unnerved him still, making his hands shake as he went about his task. Finally, after what seemed like hours but had in reality been only minutes, he climbed into his Templar suit, stepped into the control harness, and did a quick test of its range of movement. The controls were sluggish, but that was due to the chilly temperature of approaching night.

Thoughts of that woman kept creeping into his head. Without consciously deciding to, he found himself walking inexorably tiowards the Matchless Mine. He 'parked' his suit just outside the main doors, opened the hatch, and sat, waiting to hear the first signs of trouble. That was why he was here, to protect the king against any sort of rabblerousers, and that woman, though he knew nothing about her, felt dangerous.

**********

Calasi watched as the elf's gaze swept the room, and finally landed upon her. There was a brief, tangy scent of magic, as if the elf had cast a spell, and again, she saw his gaze fall to her. Her lips parted in a smile. Such delicious life, it was no wonder her Master was so fond of them. As if he had heard her, the elf stood, and made he way to her table. He sat down, as if they were old friends, his eyes full of a mingled curiosity and anger. Why are you here?" he asked her. His voice was rich with song and life, just as the scent of his living skin was almost intoxicating. [glow=red,2,3]Elves are such a marvelous people, [/glow]she thought to herself. Part of her wondered, albeit very briefly, if her Master had chosen her because of her elven heritage, or if, since elves have such long lives, this elf knew of her elven kin...the ones that had abandoned her as a mere infant.

[glow=red,2,3]"I'm here for the same reason as everyone else. This place is famous for its ale, and I haven't set foot inside in a very long time. I wanted to see if it was still the way I remembered it."[/glow] she asked him. [glow=red,2,3]"Besides, where else could I have such interesting company",[/glow] Calasi said sultrily, licking her lips for emphasis on the last word.

She looked down into her tankard of ale, her lips parted in a smile that was barely there. The reflection she found staring back at her, with a flush of color from the ale, was entrancing as always. She couldn't help but wonder if she had been that beautiful in life, but made to think otherwise. That though precipitated others, and soon she found herself enraged at the elf sitting at her table, and the elf that had abandoned her to the human filth-

And the elf that was standing somewhere outside. She felt the tingling thrill of magic, but not the rush of a spell, this was the subtle hum of a much older variety of magic: this was from the kinship all living beaings shared, and she could feel it repulsed by her Unlife. Someone who was able to read the land and feel every heartbeat and every breath upon it was nearby, and knew that she herself was here as well. [glow=red,2,3]"So tell me, elf. Does your elven friend dislike pubs, or is he just shy? He is more than welcome to join me at my table. I don't bite."[/glow] Her smile, right at that moment, suggested otherwise, revealing perfect, dazzling white teeth. [glow=red,2,3]"Well, maybe just a little."[/glow]

She drank another draught of her ale, though physically she had absolutely no need to. It was somewhat nostalgic act, eating and drinking as she had when she was alive. She supressed a pang of loss at the thought, mentally admonishing herself for her ingratitude to the gift her Master had so generously given. She eyed her new companion across the table almost mirthfully, wondering how he would react if he knew who she answered to. No doubt it would be exciting and dramatic...it always was. Whispers reached her ears...which, like much of her body, had only been improved upon by her resurrection. She heard teh grinding and creaking of metal, and could almost taste the scent of machine-oil. The Templar was on the move, no doubt.

[glow=red,2,3]"Now if you don't mind my asking, what concern is it of yours why I am here? I could ask you the very same question, couldn't I?"[/glow]

[VecaVjestica]

The woman in black smiled...but, though very polite, there was nothing good in that smile. Nura could just feel it. This woman is not of the kind that has, wants or needs friendship, love or any other positive feeling. She was cold. Beautiful, but cold.

"So long as the recipe Sylius uses hasn't changed, I am sure that I will," she replied Nura's earlier courtesy.

"No, milady," Nura confirmed, "Not a bit."

She then left the woman to her business, as a few new guests were just arriving. And, while the door was open, Nura noticed another Elf standing in front of the tavern. He seamed to be looking for someone...or something. Wondering what that might be, she procided on to the bar, nearly bumping into the other Elf, who was more than obviously disturbed. The bad feeling Nura had for some time only got worse. She was certain no good things will happen tonight, but prayed she was wrong. She just couldn't face Sylius when he comes back if she failed him and lost control of things.

Taking her place behind the bar again, Nura turned to the waitress: "We have new guests, Riana." The girl nodded, still a bit shaken up, and went on her way. Nura washed the empty tankard the Elf left and wrote the debt down under his name in her receipt-booklet. Sylius was able to charge all the guests simply by asking - he was here a long time and was well known as someone you wouldn't like to cross. Nura, however, was still relatively new and, although she had a certain reputation, it still wasn't enough. Not once the customers tried to weasel their way out of paying when they notice Sylius is not around, so she started writing down checks for each table and handing them out whenever someone dared call her a liar. It hasn't happened in a while, but she still did it, just in case.

The Templar had finished his drink too soon after. "I think perhaps I've had enough ale for the moment. I do thank you for your hospitality, as well as the old ale tap. I'm afraid I must temporarily take my leave, though hopefully I'll be back soon," he said, paying for the ale, adding a small tip as well. Nura took the money and nodded with a smile. The rooms for the king and his men (the letter they received said there will be seven of them, but Sylius suspected there will be much more in the king's "unofficial escort") were already prepared. She had no doubts this one will be back, quite possibly accompanied by others.

Nura took the Templar's tankard and washed it, her eyes monitoring the tavern, trying to keep her mind occupied by business...but it didn't work. And when she saw the short Elf sitting at the strange woman's table, the dark forebodings that have sneaked into her heart grew stronger.

[fyapaladin]

Tuon was still formulating a plan of attack when he overheard part of the undead things conversation. "So tell me, elf. Does your elven friend dislike pubs, or is he just shy? He is more than welcome to join me at my table. I don't bite."Her smile, right at that moment, suggested otherwise, revealing perfect, dazzling white teeth. "Well, maybe just a little." He felt his skin crawl and his blood boil, this former being wanted to antagonise him and cause him to do something reckless fine, she was in for a world of pain.

He moved towards the front entrance of the tavern, loading his bow with one of his pre-bought arrows, and got into position by the door. Focusing himself for a brief moment, he looked back at the occupants of the tavern and frowned, if they only knew how close to death they really were they wouldn't be continuing with their merry making and would be fleeing for their very lives. The young elf on the other hand was destined for this, he was destined for adventure, destined to go on a quest like Helios had prior to the new age. This just so happened to be the first step on the chronicles that would make up his life. He breathed deeply in and out, then gaining tension in his bow and gripping his arrow in place tightly he stepped into the tavern. "Now if you don't mind my asking, what concern is it of yours why I am here? I could ask you the very same question, couldn't I?"

"You could, but let me rectify that problem," he said as he released the arrow dead accurately, a smirk almost forming on his face. And so it had begun...

[Trippy Hare]

((Just for the record everybody, you only have to buy ammo in the Colosseum. :-P)

IC:

Calasi lifted her tankard to take another sip of ale. Movement in her periphery caught her eye, as another elf, perhaps even the one whose magical energy she had felt, dashed in, bow drawn. It seemed he took umbrage to her presence here. "You could, but let me rectify that problem," he declared, loosing his arrow.

Calasi knew better than to try to evade it: elven archers were preternaturally accurate, and he was standing at close range. She felt the force of its impact as it struck her in the chest, dead-center on where her blackened, immobile heart lay. The sheer force of it knocked her backward out of her seat. She landed on her back with a loud clang, little droplets of blackish red blood dotting her face.

No doubt it would have been fatal to anyone else in this tavern, and most likely painful as well. But Calasi only laughed, though some of her own blood gurgled in her throat as she did so. "Now, now, that wasn't very sporting. Attacking a woman, in a tavern, as she sat? And your kind are supposed to be civilized."

She stood up quickly, drawing a gasp from the crowd at large. "By all rights, I should have just pretended to be dead, and let the crowd tear you apart for murdering a woman. Especially with the Templar guarding the door. But I happen to like this place, and I don't want an elf slaughtering the help in a desperate frenzy like a cornered animal."

She plucked the arrow out, wincing from the effort of it. It had gone in fairly deep. A spurt of blood came out with it, as well as a gobbet of her innards. She carefully picked them off, stuffed them back in the whole in her chest, and glared at the elf. She threw the arrow onto the table with a wet splotch. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for a girl to keep herself beautiful? Especially after she's dead! Were I not in town on some important business, I'd be more than happy to make your... acquaintance-" Calasi replied, squinting her eyes at the elf and hissing her last word, as if to promise that his acquiantance was not at all what she had in mind. "-but alas, I don't have the time. And here I thought the Mine had settled down a bit after all these years."

Calasi righted her chair and dropped a pile of gold coins on the counter, easily nearly a hundred of them. "Well, let's see if I can't remedy that," she whispered, before picking up her chair, stil stained with blood, and hurling it across the room, far above the elf's head. It crashed into a table in front of nearly half a dozen large, scarred mercenaries, who stood up in a fury, weapons drawn. They stared at Calasi, who merely smiled, and pointed to the elf seated across from her.

*****

Barax had just finished going over the various motions when some sort of movement in the corner of his eye caused him to look over towards the pub in a fright. "What was that?" he asked out loud, to nobody in particular. His voice echoed inside his suit briefly, before the hiss of hydraulics drowned it out. I'd better go see what's going on in there. It might have just been my imagination.

But as Barax rounded the corner and crouched down in his suit to see inside the tavern door, it became obvious that it was NOT his imagination. Someone had dashed in...and shot a black-clad woman as she sat. Barax was stunned for a moment, before regaining his composure and sitting astride the doorway to cut off any escape... unless the attacker could squeeze under the suit's enormous metal legs.

"I wouldn't try anything, stranger! This is more than a mere toy!"

On cue, Barax flipped a switch near his thumb, and brought his suit's hand to bear... where a series of small ballistas along the top of its wrist glinted in the light. A chair flew across the room, hitting somewhere out of his peripheral sight. There was some commotion, then a group of enormous, burly riff-raff barreled across the tavern, shouting as if to wake the dead. "Oh, no you don't!" Barax shouted, dropping his suit to a kneel and crawling into the pub, causing sparks to fly off the paving stones as enormous metal legs scraped across them.

[VecaVjestica]

If anything else, that other Elf knew how to make an entrance - he stormed into the tavern, his bow and arrow in hand and went straight to the table in the back, where that dark woman sat, shooting the arrow into her when he came close enough. Nura gasped. She had seen all kinds of fights in her life, especially since she started working at the Matchless Mine, but this was more than a surprise. And not just for her. Every single one of her guests turned towards the Elf, all conversations stopping and all faces shocked.

But the woman simply stood up, as if she didn't have a long arrow in her chest. She was telling something to the Elf, but Nura couldn't hear her from where she stood. While talking, the woman took the arrow out of her, which was not at all a pretty sight. Someone with a weaker stomach wouldn't be able to just keep watching, like Nura did. The woman just shoved the fallen peaces of her innards back in her chest and went on as if nothing happened.

Nura couldn't believe her eyes. It was her! The Undead that Elf mentioned was her!

The dark woman tossed a huge pile of golden coins on the bar. Nura didn't like that, not one bit - the woman looked as if she was paying for something in advance. Something very expensive. It virtually screamed: "Take cover!" Then, she picked up a chair and threw it into a group of very large, armed men, pinning it on the Elf sitting across from her by simply pointing her finger at him.

They couldn't possibly believe her, Nura thought, not after what everyone in the tavern have just seen. But they did and, without waiting a moment, they got up. Men! The level of their stupidity sometimes wasn't even measurable. And, to top the wonderful event off, the Templar decided to come into the tavern - in his suit.

Fabulous!

Nura went out of the bar and walked straight to the rumbling men, standing between them and the Elf. "Gentleman, there really is no need for such uncivilized behavior. Why don't you please take another table and enjoy a few rounds of our ale - on the house, of course," she offered. But she was really out of luck tonight. The biggest one in the group simply picked by the waist and moved her to the left. "Don't worry, my pretty," he announced and turned back to the Elf, "This will only take a minute."

Absolutely fabulous!

She walked over to the dark woman. "Tell them you threw the chair and that it landed on their table by accident. Please. It will stop the fight before it even starts," she asked. She knew this was her last shot. All she could do was try and pray it works. She was loosing control...and she hated it.

[vodookyle]

Things were rapidly and quickly escalating out of hand; even as the undead woman began to talk Kallias felt his control over the situation slipping away. All hell broke loose when another elf came out of nowhere and shoot her straight in the chest. It all happened so fast there was little that he could do. And truthfully, little he’d be willing to do. He had no love for the undead, obviously, as few races did…but from her speech she hadn’t been expressly committed to doing any harm.

Standing up and looking completely unharmed the woman was truly a scary sight to behold. Still fairly surprised Kallias did nothing as she pulled the arrow back out, along with some of her innards which she quickly pushed back in.

If that wasn’t a sight that could make someone lose there appetite, he didn’t know what was.

The woman’s words towards the new elf weren’t merely a threat; if she wanted to he didn’t doubt she’d kill him and not think twice. And of course, the pile of coins she dropped onto the table was a pretty sure assurance trouble was about to come, whether he wanted it or not.

Tossing a chair the, undoubtedly, cunning undead woman pointed a finger at him, apparently blaming the act on him. She had picked the toughest looking group in the tavern. They didn’t look terribly strong, mere mercenaries. A single spell could probably end there threat, but right now he was far more worried about her then to try and deal with them.

Again, seconds before he could react a Templar knight burst his way into the tavern, sparks flying. That meant not only did the mercenaries have a lot of tavern to cover, they might have to go through him first. Plenty of time for action.

Jumping up, and letting his own chair fall backwards, Kallias pointed his hand at the woman. “Fenris Manracle!” He shouted, rewarded instantly by the familiar warmth of magic. Seconds later a fair sized Arcane Bolt burst from his finger tips. Even though the range between him and the woman was small, she had already proven conventional attacks would be of little use.

[Trippy Hare]

Screams of panic, shrieks of metal, and guttural roars of rage all clashed together in a cacophany of chaos. The woman who was apparently running the place in sylius' absence was speaking to her, but a much more important voice throbbed in her skull like the waves against the shore. There was no denying Him, no resisting Him, and He didn't seem pleased. Calasi felt a flush of something she'd not felt in many, many years: fear. He was angry, and she was afraid.

You didn't do as I asked, the voice of her Master throbbed in her ears. I am not accustomed to failure, Calasi. Especially not from you.[/b]

"I'm sorry!" she screamed, clutching her head. "I didn't know they-" she began, her finger almost pointing at the elf that had been sitting with her. At that moment, something struck her entire body, throwing her to the ground like a toppled oak. She felt as if she were on fire, as long dead nerves sprang to life to scream their message of anguish into her skull. Her eyes were clenched shut and her teeth pressed together in an effort to dull the pain, but it wasn't working. Was this His punishment for failure? Had she finally earned his wrath?

The sounds of sudden chaos were muffled, as if her head were wrapped in a thick scarf. "I'm sorry," she repeated, over and over, as she lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. She opened her eyes, just barely, to see that her skin was smoking faintly, and the smell of fresh magic filled her nostrils. This wasn't her Master's punishment, she had been hit by a spell. No doubt from the elf, or perhaps both elves. Her hearing still muffled and her vision slightly blurred, Calasi stood up, brushing dust off of her arms and unslinging a shield. "You are fortunate in that I have been called away, elf. Consider this a reprieve." She turned the face of the shield towards the fighting mob, and pointed it directly at the largest, drunkest man in it. He screamed in agony and immediately dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"You have wasted enough time tonight, Calasi. Come home, we shall have to try a different approach," His voice pounded in her ears. She almost lost her footing from the force of his presence in her mind, but managed to stay on her feet. He wanted her to go back to Erchaea, but the exit was blocked by the Templar, and fierce though she was, with so little room to move, she was no match for a Templar suit. "I care not for Templars," her Master responded...and in a flash of yellow light and the stench of decay, Calasi vanished- mystically summoned back home to Erchaea by the Lich Lord himself.

[I'll continue this with Barax in a later post]

[VecaVjestica]

Nura expected a lot of things form that woman...and few of them were good. She was, after all, a Necrid; to think she would grant Nura's plead just like that would be stupid and that's one of the things Nura wasn't. But what did happen completely confused the young girl.

The woman cried.

The woman begged for forgiveness.

The woman ached in pain, clutching her head and shouting.

Frightened, and quite concerned about the woman's mental health, Nura backed away from her a bit. And a good thing she did it, because the short Elf cast a spell and shot what looked like a bolt straight into the woman, who fell on the floor. Her screams became even more terrible, so terrible Nura had to fight off the urge to go and help her.

And then, just like she fell, the woman got up and, dough a little insecure on her feet, faced her attacker, together with quite a few people that have gathered.

"You are fortunate in that I have been called away, elf. Consider this a reprieve," she said and turned to that large man who moved Nura when she tried persuading him and his friends to abort the chance to fight. The man creamed even worst than the woman did and dropped on the ground. He was dead; Nura didn't doubt it for a second.

She looked back to the woman, who still stood, her shield in hand - but not for long - because, in a second, she was gone, disappeared in a flash of yellow light, leaving behind nothing but a sickening smell and that bag of gold she left on the counter of the bar.The people around her just stood and watched, taken by all that had happened in the tavern in such a short time. It was quiet, so quiet that Nura knew the only thing that can come out of it was pure chaos.Unfortunately, she was right.

One of the men who were with the one the woman killed kneeled above his dead friend and felt his pulse out. When he felt nothing, he unleashed his sword and pressed the tip of the razor-sharp blade under the smaller Elf's chin. "Your lady-friend escaped...but at least she left us you to play with," he growled. Nura wanted to speak up, explain what happened, to tell the man that both Elves did nothing but chase away someone who posed a potential deadly threat to them all, but one of the barmaids, Riana, was quicker. Except that, judging by her choice of words, you'd say she tried the exact opposite: "That woman was an Undead and the Elf knew-"

Fuck!

Nura thought the girl didn't hear the Elf when he talked about it earlier. Apparently, she was wrong...and now she will pay for her lack of cautiousness.Shocked and enraged by Riana's words, the people in the tavern didn't even consider listening to the rest. Nura saw it thousands of times by now; she was the object of such attention more times than she would like to count. She knew that, if she wants to stay alive and unharmed, all she can do is stay away. There was no reasoning with them now; none of them thought with their own head any more.

For there was no more people in the tavern.

No.

In their place now stood a mob.

[fyapaladin]

"Now, now, that wasn't very sporting. Attacking a woman, in a tavern, as she sat? And your kind are supposed to be civilized."

"I believe that people who are living their second life do not deserve civility, sorry." He allowed the faintest of smirks to grace his face before reaching for his next arrow. Keeping his next arrow drawn, Tuon kept his eyes trained on the Undead woman unwilling to move his focus on anyone else. He watched as she tried initiating a bar fight and blaming it on the fellow elf; heard as a mechanic construction plowed into the tavern; watched curiously as the Undeaed writhed in pain and agony, all the while display little in the way of emotion.

"You are fortunate in that I have been called away, elf. Consider this a reprieve." With that she pointed her shield at the largest man standing and Tuon barely had the opportunity to move away as he fell down like a sack of potatoes, dead. He whipped round ready to unleash his arrow on her again but found she had taken the momentary distraction to disappear. He sighed, most would miss the faint trace of fustration that it held.

One of the men who were with the one the woman killed kneeled above his dead friend and felt his pulse out. When he felt nothing, he unleashed his sword and pressed the tip of the razor-sharp blade under the smaller Elf's chin. "Your lady-friend escaped...but at least she left us you to play with," he growled. 'Was this Terran blind,' the taller Elf thought. How could he not tell that both Elves did nothing but save them from someone who posed a deadly threat to them all; but one of the barmaids was quicker, though judging by her choice of words, you'd say she was trying to motivate the crowd more: "That woman was an Undead and the Elf knew-"

'...what in the world was this Terran doing?!' Tuon watched as the crowd slowly dissolved into a mob, many of whom were unsheathing their swords and aiming for not only the two elves but for the Templar and the other barmaids in the establishment. He couldn't stand by and watch as harm befell innocent people due to his actions, he still had arrow that wasn't in it's quiver...

"You'll pay for your lady-friends act now elf," the brutish mecenary said; his sword still pressed against the smaller elf's neck. This only lasted a moment more as Tuon fired his arrow that grazed over the top of both of the man's forearms. "Gaaah," came the exclamation and all eyes rested on Tuon. "You! Do you have a death wish?!" The elf, however, didn't respond; instead his eyes were closed and his thoughts were elsewhere, yes he was aware of his surroundings but that, like everything else, was a niggling itch at the perimeter of his mind. "Hey, I am talking to you; are you DEAF?!!" Still no visible response, but internally Tuon was having a moment of clarity and could feel vast amounts of energy flowing into his body. "Well, I guess you just became the first to grace my sword with their blood," and with that the mecenary lunged forward; sword raised to pierce through the elf. Almost instantly Tuon drew his bow sans an arrow and released, the vibrations through the air impacting with the forward momentum of his attacker; the collision of which sent the man flying into the arms of several of his fellow mob members. Shock graced the face of most in the building, a shock that made the mecenary even angrier. "How dare you..."

"When the lives of innocent people are at risk, I dare very well thank you very much." Opening his eyes a faint shimmer of metallic grey seemed to surround his eyes in an aura, an aura the seemed to leave a trail as he turned to the bag of money on the table beside him. Lifting the bag, he tossed it over to the Terran woman who had tried to reason with the undead 'lady' and mouthed the words 'get out now'. Turning back to the mob who had become angrier in the meantime (many of them unsheathing their own swords and axes), Tuon simply looked at them and uttered "If you attack me now, by the time all of this is over I will make you regret ever deciding to become warriors. This I promise."

"...Get him," came the battle cry, aided by many other charging towards the elf with the hint of a smile gracing his lips as he deftly launcehd his chakram into the melee...

[Trippy Hare]

Barax could hardly believe his eyes, as first the strange woman screamed, then somehow killed a man, then vanished, all in less than a minute. The mob rose in arms and moved towards the two elves, their intentions made quite clear. Barax held no love for elves, but he could not allow a fight to erupt at the tavern that the high King would soon visit: it would reflect poorly upon him, and he needed above all else to make a good impression. He sighed heavily within his suit, knowing that this was going to be a long night, and crept forward, scraping sparks off the paving stones on the tavern floor.

The crowd began to close in, and Barax saw a man press a sword to the elf he had been sitting next to, while the much taller elf began to glow with some sort of magical shine. Immediately distrustful of any sort of magic, Barax reached forward with his suit, in an attempt to keep the mob and the elves separated, just in time to partially deflect some sort of metal disc. Sparks spat out from the fingers of his suit, while the fragments of what had once been a finger ballista crashed to the tavern floor.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Barax shouted, though he could hardly be heard within the suit. "Any more open acts of aggression, and will have to call in reinforcements, and I doubt any of you could even breathe if my Templar brethren showed up!" Barax yelled, raising his voice above the din somehow. Of course, he was bluffing, but they didn't need to know that. "All this talk of Undead and magic and other nonsense stops now!"

For a moment, the bar was silent, almost incredulous. Glares of anger and hate stared back at Barax from every face, as if these people were irritated that they could hack each other to pieces. The few men gathered around the body looked even more malicious, and an instant later, one of them took a step towards him, while another took a step towards the short elf.

Barax fired instinctively with the four remaining hand-ballistas on his suit's arm. Three two-inch-thick ballista bolts ripped through the man heading towards him, sending a bloody spray into the air. One more impaled the other agressor through the spine, the force of the bolt carrying him forward and pinning him to the wall like a grotesque decoration. As if on cue, the melee began in earnest. Bottles and chairs flew through the air, and though Barax could hear them hit him, he didn't feel anything. His free hand swept side to side, trying in vain to keep the clamorous masses from injuring the staff. The din of metal on metal became louder and louder, and Barax prayed that the seal he had just replaced would hold out.

[VecaVjestica]

There was no more time to think. When the fight started, all Nura could think was how to get the barmaids out of there unharmed. They were her responsibility, even that small-minded blabbermouth, Riana. There was also the question of the gold the Necrid left. God only knew what will be left of the tavern when this is all over and Nura thought that it was only fair for Sylius to get it. The money was on the counter of the bar, not too far away from where she stood, but there was a whole bunch of very big, very dangerous and very angry men between her and the bar.

Completely unexpectedly, almost as if he read her mind, the tall Elf took the bag and threw it straight into Nura's hands, mouthing the words: "Get out now!" Nura had every intention of taking that advice - but not before she makes sure all the other girls were safe outside as well.

Though the Tepmlar and the Elves did their best to take care of the mob, there were simply too many people they had to fight. Many of them didn't even care about the things that lead to it, but concentrate on other, for them more prosperous actions, like stealing the tavern decorations from the walls or bottles from the bar. Normally, she would try stopping them, but she was to busy rounding up the maids. Not an easy task at all, but she did her best and, after a few minutes and dodging a few randomly thrown objects, she managed to get one of them out and, giving her the bag, sent her off to get the city guards. Soon, she pulled out the other maids...all except - surprise, surprise - Riana.

She was chased into a corner by two men, one of them holding her down while the other was ripping her dress off. A flash of golden-amber light shined in Nura's eyes and she unleashed the dagger she always had on her waist, a habit her mother forced on her and, against Sylius' advices, she kept even though it was no longer necessary...or, at least, as necessary as it was when she lived her life on the road. She ran towards them and stabbed one of the assailants in the shoulder and hard as she could, jamming the blade deep into his flesh. The man let out a roar of pain, turned around and sent a blind punch in the air. The good thing was that the man, being much taller and expecting his attacker to be a man of equal size, missed. The bad thing was that, in an attempt to move away, stumbled on one of the broken chairs and fell on the ground flat on her back.

The man, in pain and angry as hell, grabbed Nura by the throat and growled in her face: "A wildcat, huh? Good. I like it when my girls fight." He grabbed the collar of her dress and ripped it clean in a single move, buttons flying everywhere. Nura hit the man with both hands, scratched his face, kicked with her feet, but it didn't help. He was too strong, intoxicated by violence, lust and the position of power he had over her. His reactions to her attempts to free herself were mostly a bark-like laugh and profanities, but he hit her a few times too.

When he started pulling up her dress, Nura felt the grip he had on her throat loosen up a bit, enough to allow her to turn her head and see, to her right, a broken table-leg. She reached for it, her fingers barely able to touch it, but the man suddenly noticed what she wa doing. "Awww, girl, you're just dieing to give me a good time, ain't ya?" he snickered and let go of her throat to grab her by the hands, but Nura used this moment of freedom to grab the table-leg and smack the man straight across his face. This time it worked and the man dropped on the ground unconscious. Nura got up, just in time to see Riana running out of the tavern. Good. Now all she had to do is get out herself.