Today is of the Cycle Of The Seventh Moon.
Current Season & Month:  , Year: 543 A.R. (ref)

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Outside Olwort's

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NoOne
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Slightly worse than being inside the business, the surroundings of Olwort's tavern consist of a ramshackle stable on one side, a turnip patch on another, and the first buildings of Kiana proper on a third. 

The fourth side is where the latrines to a drainage ditch are dug, but the less said about that side, the better.


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NoOne
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Myrae

From: Olwort's

Myrae was a few feet ahead of Vjerdt as she left Olwort's (on the stable side). As soon as she was out the door, she increased that distance with a lunge. Her eyes adjusted from the dimness of the interior to the near-utter blackness outside in an instant. She pivoted on a heel, drew the ceremonial dagger, and whipped it underhanded at the small figure silhouetted in the light from the doorway in one smooth motion, without so much as a word of warning.

Oh yeah, he was a cutie; gaunt fine features, Icy blue eyes, that turquoise hair and weird little goatee. Her Yochlol sisters would hate everything about the little freak that turned Myrae on like a UV light.  

She was a skilled fighter. The blade was thrown only to draw blood. Then again, Myrae had plenty of drink in her and she was used to taller targets. A bit overconfident, she'd aimed for his cheek, but a hair misjudgement on her part--or a wrong dodge by Vjerdt--might put it in his eye, or shoulder, or heart. That would be a shame, Myrae thought, as she returned to the Ice Gnome slowly enough for any blood she'd drawn to well up. 

Vjerdt, depending on his night vision and battle awareness, might note and deflect or avoid the attack, or he might blithely hear the thunk of the blade hitting wood behind him, and perhaps feel the slightest tug from wherever it's razor-sharp edge sliced his skin.

Myrae approached the Gnome like a panther stalks a deer. Eyes could deceive at this stage of the pursuit. She scented for what manner of vitae she'd drawn, if any at all. She hoped she had not hit anything vital, but if she had, well that was part of the game as well. 

After all, Drow mating rituals tended to be a bit more lethal than those of some other races. 

Distinguishing them from a murderous attack was difficult for most, and probably not something young gnomes were taught up in the Ice Krowne. 


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Ydove
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Vjerdt

 

((From: Olwort’s Taproom and Flaphouse))

 

Whatever survival instincts the Ice Gnome might have had, they were not functioning now. Perhaps it was his exhaustion from the long day’s travel, or the fact he had just focused his energies for magicking, or the presence of the luscious drowess in front of him – whatever be the case, Vjerdt was slow in reacting to the dagger flung towards him.

 

“What in the UnderNeath…?” Vjerdt never swore until now. But then again, many things this evening were new to him. The dagger might have been aimed at his cheek, but it scratched his shoulder instead – right where it met his neck. Luckily for Vjerdt, he was dressed in his thick clothes, so the cut was not deep, but as he turned his head to see the wound – a dark crimson spot widened on the surface of his pale outfit.

 

Quickly, the icy-blue of his own dagger twinkled in the darkness. Vjerdt kept in his hand. His eyes narrowed. “I have had it of being deceived, trapped, led astray, caught off guard, caught by guards,” he snarled. “What do yew want from me?”

 

His instincts should have told him to attack, or flee, but there something else – perhaps even more instinctual, but one he could not yet name – that kept him standing there, in some kind of anticipation he did not understand.


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NoOne
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Myrae

Oh hells yes. She'd drawn blood. The drowess smelled iron like all who dwelt upon the surface, yes, but different, coppery and... She could scent unidentifiable traces of the frozen lands from which he hailed. She wanted to taste.

"Nin udos salk." Myrae answered the angry gnome in archaic drow. There was menace in her throaty tone, yes, but also hunger and longing. If Vjerdt had ever been stalked by the beasts of the north, he would feel something akin to that in Myrae. She was done with the common tongue. She didn't care whether Vjerdt understood or not, she had not brought him here to talk. She might be outcast of Botherel for her predilections, but she was not so depraved as to sully The Ritual. Vjerdt could fight, flee, or let Myrae do her worst. He would have to decide which with no more information.

Myrae hoped he would fight. Like most of the Sisters, she liked to fight first. Running was fine. A pursuit could be thrilling as well. Come to think of it (and she didn't because she was not really thinking straight at the moment) Myrae had never had anyone simply stand their ground and do nothing. What would that be like?

Unless the gnome fled, Myrae would approach to within a hair's breadth--or as close as she could before triggering him to attack--regardless of any further threats or warnings. Her hands were empty of weaponry, her carmine eyes seemed almost to glow as they remained locked unblinkingly upon him. 

Ooc: quick aside


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Ydove
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Vjerdt

 

Vjerdt has been stalked by the beasts of the North, many times - from the giant white mammoths to nasty snow snakes to ice wolves and glacier rocs. He survived them all through instincts well cultivated from birth by the harsh life at the frozen wilderness. But none of these instincts served him now. He stood there, transfixed, mesmerized, listening to words he did not understand as the Drowess approached him, clearly meaning harm even if she held no weapon, yet he could not move.

 

Was this some sort of evil charm? Some ancient spell? The Ice Gnome could not tell. He was still able to cling to his dagger, but besides that – his pale blue eyes were glued to hers as they drew nearer and nearer. He did not move.

 

“What are yew going to do to me?” He whispered hoarsely. Strangely, when his words reached his ears, he did not hear fear in them, but something else.


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NoOne
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Myrae 

The drowess crouched before Vjerdt, her face only inches from his. She reached forward, brushing the Gnome's neck with the back of her fingers as she gently wiped away the beading blood with her thumb. 

Eyes still locked with Vjerdt's, she wiped the dark liquid across her lips, tasting his vitae. "Tsoss uns'aa." She demanded, her hand rising to tangle in his braided arctic blue mane. Myrae closed her fist and tugged gently on the nape of his neck, urging him forward as she pressed her lips to his. Myrae's kissed Vjerdt as longly, lustily and deeply as the gnome would allow, her torso moulding around his own, hands hooking into his cloaks and lifting him from the ground as she pressed him bodily against the rough wall of the stable.

Vjerdt would taste the iron of his own blood upon the drowess's lips, as well as sea salt and her; mixed with perhaps a hint of the wine and mead of her night's libations. He would smell the perfume of her scalp as well as the scent of the sea from the tangled platinum locks that curtained their faces.

Myrae did not lack for strength. She held Vjerdt against the wall of the stable with one arm, and the press of her armored bodice, while she sought to undo the buckles, buttons, and clasps of his cloaks with the other. She broke off the kiss long enough for a breath, trembling with anticipation, to carry her next demand to the gnome. "Vith… vith uns'aa!" She breathed, finding his daggerless hand, and pressing it to the clasps of her leather armor. Get to work.

Vjerdt might not understand the drowess's words, but it was impossible to misunderstand what it was she desired.


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Ydove
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Vjerdt

 

The gnomes of Vizhinm were a chaste folk. Clearly, living in such proximity to nature, there was no hiding the facts of procreation, but these were never connected to emotions or even passion. Indeed, the ice gnomes were suspicious of lust's fiery nature, and aspired to suppress it. Copulation was something to be done. Nothing more.

 

Therefore, Vjerdt knew what he and the drowess were doing - he just never knew how it felt. The taste of his own blood together with sea and wine and body was foreign to him, too strong, and he wished to pull away but did not. As she pulled him up, his legs wrapped around her hips as if of their own accords. He did not understand a word she said, but knew what he should do. As she disrobed him, he was quick to do so in return...

 

... After all was over, the ice gnome was breathing heavily, trying to comprehend what just happened, to process this slew of new feelings and excitements that ran through his body with abandon. 

 

"Is this... is this what 'a ride to Ufaeria' means around here?" He rasped, his icy blue eyes still transfixed to the skies above. The chilly wind caressed whatever parts of his body were exposed to it, including some of the runes that he usually keeps covered. They tingled. His hand lazily and absentmindedly reached for his furs and cloaks that were thrown nearby. Also, was there something far in the sky headed towards them? He was probably just seeing things. This... encounter definitely left him rather dizzy.


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NoOne
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Myrae 

OOC: I'm going to move us under cover if yew don't mind.

Myrae laughed at the breathless Gnome's query. While they'd been using the wall of the stable for something different from its original purpose, they'd tumbled through a door and ended up on a pile of musty hay. Thank Loth the Merciless that it hadn't been dung. "I needed an excuse to bring yew outside, magicker." Myrae traced the runes tattooed across Vjerdt's shoulders before he shrugged back into his furs. 

She collected her own clothing and armor, repositioning a few things as she snapped buckles and hasps closed. Myrae hummed a little song of evocation as she dressed. If Vjerdt were Magick-sensitive he might notice the minor magery she wove, but he was not its intended target.

That had been... interesting. Seemed like whatever flavor of gnome this was, he was a bit inexperienced. Well, Myrae wouldn't mind helping him with that, if he were staying in Kiana. Maybe next time, when he wasn't so surprised, she could find a way to coax forth some of that anger she'd seen in the tavern. "Do yew swim as well as yew vish?" She asked, hand on the stable door. Myrae doubted it. She'd heard somewhere that gnomes sank like stones, but yew never knew. "Or have yew a way to breathe underwater?" If the answer was negative, she was ready to depart.

Myrae hesitated a moment. Did she really want there to be another time?

Sure. She shrugged half to herself. "See ya around, Blue Eyes." Pillow talk was not forbidden by The Rites, but it wasn't something she engaged in until her swain proved worth the effort. She would rather not know anything about this icy subject of her impromptu tryst, for now. 

Except if he could dive the harbor without drowning, that was.


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Irihi
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Miiya

From: The Outskirts of Kiana

Miiya had lost the pair of combatants in the darkness. She was sure, though, that she had seen the glint of Vjerdt's ice dagger. Had he buried it in his assailant? Miiya had to slow and climb. Treetop flight on a moonless night was deadly. She tried to block out the pain from her wingtip and concentrate on her heading, but she drifted a bit. She glided over the first buildings of town, but none of them were the building where she'd spied Vjerdt. 

Miiya couldn't remain aloft, flying hurt too much. She aimed for what looked like a flat path, lit by candle or torchlight spilling from a window, stalled, and hit hard, running out her excess speed, stumbling like a fledgling. At least she didn't fall. Coming to rest, Miiya pulled both wings in tight and bent double in the roadway, pounding a fist into her thigh and biting back a scream. 

After a few seconds, she straightened, collected herself, and cast about. She didn't recognize this road or the dark shapes of the nearby buildings. "Vjerdt!" She called, a bit heedless of the need for stealth necessitated by her outlaw status. "Vjerdt! Are you here?" She paused, listening for the sound of combat. 

"Hell with it!" The pain was distracting. She popped a mushroom cap in her mouth and chewed it mechanically, walking as she did so, hoping she was tracking back toward where she'd seen the gnome. Periodically, she would call his name, in a softer voice now.


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NoOne
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Myrae

The drowess raised an eyebrow at the gnome as a voice passed by outside, calling a name, obviously searching for someone. "Uh-oh, are yew 'Vjerdt', blue eyes? Have yew been untrue?" She pouted mockingly. "Bad boy!"

Myrae pushed open the stable door. "Yew aren't looking for a blue haired fellow, by chance?" She asked the retreating figure. "Little guy, wears furs?" 

If Miiya turned around, Myrae would be a bit surprised. An Aeros boy? No… it was a girl, just young and painfully thin, by the drowess's estimation. "He's inside." She stepped out of the stable and jerked a thumb toward the door. "What's left of him, anyway."


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Ydove
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Vjerdt

 

“Huh,” Vjerdt grunted at the Drowess’s reply. He had definitely enjoyed their encounter and had no complaints, but he truly hoped he would find a way to reach Ufaeria. This matter must still to be settled. What he learned meanwhile, again, is that the Worlde down below was full of deceit and cannot be trusted. Never. Again, not many complaints this time about the outcome, but the point was taken.

 

She traced the runes on his body and the ice gnome immediately recoiled. “Do not touch these,” he said sternly while starting to put his clothes on as well. “They’re sacred.”

 

Whatever Myrae had heard about gnomes might have been true of those who dwell in rock and earth, but not the ice gnomes. Living at the Krowne meant one had to know swimming almost from birth. “Of course I can swim,” he answered, “and breathe for a while if need be.” Although his magick mastery was with ice, he could do some rather impressive things with water as well.

 

He was at the midst of re-tightening his braid when he heard a familiar voice from the outside calling his name. Oh no, not she again. “Do not answer, this only means troubl…” But it was too late. The drowess opened up the stable’s door and revealed his location. Vjerdt sighed heavily. Resigned, he decided to at least stay put in the stable. He is not going to go outside and greet the winged girl after all that has transpired.


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Firebraid
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Zhaetar

From: Outskirts

The she-dwarf rode in on the back of the loping TonDen, thoroughly bumped and sore from the dash across the moors and croplands between the gnarled thickets of Tobold's Hollow and the outskirts of the village. She did not hear Miiya's fervent calls of alarm across this distance, though barely saw the Aeros spiral down from the sky. While dwarf eyes were accustomed to seeing in the darkness underground, their sight did not work quite the same at night above it. At a distance, things were still fuzzy, and the sliver of a moon and few stars above cast strange shadows that muddled her icy blue gaze. The dwarf, astride the blue ash construct, held on as it crossed over a ditch with an easy, but bumpy leap. The pair still had a low, muddy field of turnips to cross, with the roadhouse up above an earthen berm. Beyond the candlelights of the halfling town twinkled in the close and misty darkness. 

"Ack, I can't handle more o' this thumpin' on my rear." Zhae grunted as they effortlessly crossed another ditch and cantered into the turnip patch, her short legs still struggling to hold on to the hard crystal hide of the TonDen. A low mist clung to the mud and stubble of the ground like a wet wool quilt. Up near the ale-house, she spied the narrow frame of what could be Miiya up on the roadway. The muffled sounds of roaring laughter and the hammer of drinking jacks drifted from Olwort's, mixed with a few other indecipherable voices. The dwarf patted the TonDen's carapace gently, indicating it was time to stop. "Best not get closer, eh? Yew and the girl is wanted by the law heresabout, and no reason to give 'em sight of ya."

If the construct stopped, the she-dwarf would slide off and stretch her back. She cast her gaze over the place, and pointed the TonDen to the row of latrines on one side of the flophouse. "Yew might hide behind the privy there, just careful o' yer step eh?"

Zhaetar winked, then turned to stalk quietly up to the berm, and see what Miiya was up to.


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Irihi
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Miiya

Miiya was startled by a voice behind her in the darkness. "Who're yew?" She hissed. "'Wha-what's left'..." She stammered. "What've yew done ta him!?" She cried as she rushed to the stable door.

Miiya couldn't see well in the dimness, but Vjerdt did not seem as though he were injured, and the husky female voice from his adversary held a bit of a smirk in it. "Oh… oh, gross!" 

Miiya again felt a wash of emotions, much as she had in the hollow. She was relieved that Vjerdt was okay, but shocked  that he had hired this prostitute just a day after they had escaped from The Western Watch. How could he even think about that sort of stuff with their lives on the line? "Well, since yew got what yew came for, I guess yew'd better be off to her next client, then." Miiya said coldly to Myrae. 


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NoOne
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Myrae 

The drowess laughed at the upset in Miiya's tone. "Apologies, hon, but he didn't spend a copper. He'll still be able ta bring the bread home to yew and yer little chicks." She intentionally misinterpreted. As far as Myrae knew, Aeros did not mate with the wingless for fear of flightless offspring. 

Vjerdt had said something interesting. He could swim, not just swim, but swim confidently. So could Myrae, but maybe this diminutive magicker had other unexpected talents. Myrae stood uncomfortably close behind Miiya in the stable doorway. “But I’m afraid he’s wantin’ ta leave yew an’ travel ta the fair land of the elves.” She purred right in Miiya’s ear before stepping around her and speaking to Vjerdt again. 

“If yew kin stay underwater a pace, I actually can help yew get to Ufaeria.” She said. “Meet me back inside, if yer interested.” Once yew’ve got this mess sorted. She added silently, smirking at the Aeros girl as she left.

Myrae walked past Miiya and retrieved that knife from the wall of Olwort's, then stepped back into the lamplit interior of the tavern. 

To: Olwort’s


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NoOne
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The TonDen

From: The Outskirts of Town

The construct of Blue Ash arrived at Olworts after traversing many fields and vaulting (stepping, really) over numerous hedgerows and fences. Its night vision was as clear as any drow, allowing it to spy Miiya between stable and tavern. The TonDen would have stumped right up to Olworts had Zhaetar not intervened. Wordlessly, it lowered itself to allow Zhaetar to disembark. It's reactions were faster now, for most of the branching pathways of its mind were closed.

A bit of blue flickered within the inky blackness of its carapace, but it did not speak. It did not want to speak. It was black as when Rei had posessed it, and it felt like when it had been of-Rei. Like it wanted to rend and destroy rather than to converse or contemplate. Its thoughts were simple and centered on violence. Its six-fingered hands clenched and unclenched as it folded its legs, pinchers, and wings, collapsing down into its most compact form beside an turnip wagon, empty but for a thredbare tarpauline. "I will remain here." The TonDen grated out its decision. "If any approach, I will kill them quietly." 

Should Zhaetar have tossed the tarp over the Tonden, it would not object, and it would look more like a pile of produce or farm equipment rather than a murderous golem of death.


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