Panting, the woman wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow, a result of pain more than exertion. Her legs trembled from the effort of dragging a fully grown man and then stuffing him into the furthest corner of the cellar. At least getting him the cellar had been easy – she just shoved the blackguard down the damn hole. Struggling back up was surprisingly tough, since the stairs were half rotten and she had to go slowly. Once free of the cellar, Ariel collapsed onto the ground and regathered her strength. The tremors and accelerated breathing slowly faded, sweat cooling on her skin. Several minutes passed before the woman regained her feet and brushed the dirt and dust from her skirts. Shaking her cloak out, she wrapped it once more around her figure and slipped out the rear door of the abandoned house.

[i]I wonder if there's a transformation spell for dead bodies... well, I wonder if I can cast it, anyway. Turning a whole corpse into an acorn or something would make stashing them so much easier, [/i] she thought. So far she took a couple lives per month, so it hadn't been terribly hard to find ways of hiding them, but making life easier was ever the goal. Finally able to relax a little, Ariel grabbed the pendant round her throat and lifted it to eye level on a rather long chain – long enough to hide it in her bosom and avoid curious questions. Much to her dismay, the shell only gave a feeble glow. [i] Won't last a fortnight if I don't find another person...”[/i] It seemed as if the shell was becoming harder to please, but perhaps Ariel was doing something wrong. Ursula had made her sing while stealing her voice, but Ariel couldn't really expect such an effort from those she would then kill. 

Deciding to make the night a productive one, Ariel headed towards a different inn, only to shy back when she saw a dozen guards filing into the place, all of them in full gear, though she couldn't place their allegiance. They looked too dangerous by half and she couldn't help but shiver with trepidation – were they onto her? [i]No, no, that's just guilt talking,[/i] she reassured herself. But... guilt? No, that couldn't be. Each person she had killed deserved death, that had been part of the deal. Or, rather, they weren't good people... which surely meant they deserved death, didn't it? Eyes cloudy with doubt, the woman turned from the inn and headed back to her initial haunt. She was too consumed with thought so register its odor and appearance a second time, barely pausing as she pushed her way in for the second time that night. 

The knife on her hip blazed with sudden heat, causing Ariel to wince in pain. At least she'd probably handle torture well after becoming more and more accustomed to handling pain and discomfort. Eyes rapidly adjusting to the gloom and haze of smoke, Ariel scanned the place for the figure who had attracted her knife's attention. A rather small hooded woman sat at a far table, seated beside one of the men Ariel had noticed earlier but disregarded due to desiring to kill Eric's lookalike. She wandered closer, stopping only to order a mug of mead from the bartender. Once she had the glass in her hands, she sat at a nearby table and turned her head to listen to the conversation between the other woman and the drunkard. One of them had attracted her knife and, though Ariel felt she should hate women because one had so easily replaced her, she couldn't help but hope it was the slobbering, slurring drunk.