[i]“--decay.”[/i] The final word in the simple phrase had left Aupa’s mouth. She second-guessed herself and stressed for precisely three seconds, before the sound of a quill snapping cut through the heavy air. A distorted kind of relief washed over her when the Elf who’d previously been writing something with the same quill introduced himself simply and courteously. Sort of.

 "Ah... Deliv... Of Bold Red Petal." [i]What a title[/i], Aupa thought, but for a moment there was a spark of hope that the members of this quote-unquote “band of adventurers” would be civil to her.

Her chest tightened and stole her breath along with any of this hope when the shorter dwellers of the room spoke up. 

"I'll not be workin' with somethin' like [i]that.[/i]" the tallest, with matted hair, his face concealed beneath a basic-looking helmet. 

[i]Oh[/i]. He hadn’t even afforded her the luxury of being called human. 

"The Brashirons do nothin' but defend our home from your kind, we'll not see that changed today. You'll find little welcome in Underdeep, witch." He and his pink-faced kin then left the room, each glaring at her once, like some quaint little exit ritual.

[i]Witch[/i]. A stooped figure with bad teeth and a raging bloodlust.

[i]“Would you call me a witch?”[/i] Her mother’s voice. Assenting laughter. [i]“How rude! I’m not a witch, I’m a housewife!”[/i] it concludes with mock indignation. [i]“The difference being?”[/i] a cynical twang from the crowd. More laughter. 

Aupa would have sworn on her natural eye that her silver one was beginning to buzz again.

She became vaguely aware that the second Elf, the self-important one, had still been playing that beautiful tune on his lyre, just up until the first words of the dwarves. He'd halted the piece with grace, let them leave, eyes shut, then opened them again and addressed the group one by one. [i]Make them feel important. Get them to do what he wants.[/i]

First, he spoke to the Orc who’d laughed so sincerely. “Aye, adventurers we are. And pleased to be joined by the legendary Lonely Blade. Indeed, people sing praises of your prowess throughout the land. A survivalist and warrior, peerless on each front. I am pleased to see you.”

Next, the one with the blonde braid and the longsword. “A young woman engaged in the religious servitude, her faith leading her into practice. There are no nobler and purer souls than those whose full faith in a God. Truly, no more powerful. May you be served in kind for your kindness.”

[i]God.[/i] Aupa, realistically, did not count herself among the wariest and most jaded of travelers, but this sounded so fake it was difficult not to dislike the Elf by now. What did he have in store for her?

He strode over to the half-giant creature(s), moving like water would flow. “Ah, a grand sight. The best of men, you are. So large, and with such wisdom to remain silent. Though your size speaks a'plenty, your restraint says yet more.”

[i]Oh, damn it.[/i] He was now walking towards Aupa, indulgent-- or pitying-- smiles chasing one another over his lips. “My, my, my. The perfect martyr, making a sacrifice of yourself to serve the common good. Give to give, what charity and benevolence! May none speak ill of your contribution, as all that is worth preserving may benefit from your loss.”

[i]Gods deliver me, what uninformed filth is this Elf spewing with my name on his tongue?[/i]

Finally, the other Elf, the writer. Deliv, was it? “Ah, my brother in exile. I too know the pain of being forced from one's homeland. Through my own experiences abroad, I am sure that you are strong and fair. Truly those of us who are less than us would hardly last a day in this world.”

The bard spread his arms wide, to complete the very theatrical circle. Aupa had to respect the degree to which he was invested in his own charade. “I am Davanteaux, servant of Icthus in this grandest of ages! Only in this time would such a party be possible. A new age is dawning before us, and we are its harbingers!” 

She wanted to laugh, imagining the room’s occupants all clapping for him and throwing roses. [i]‘Simply marrrrvelous performance tonight, Davanteax, my darling!’[/i]

It was ridiculous, the whole thing. Aupa cursed the stupid silver eye inwardly, and wondered for a moment if she would come across that hateful little band of dwarves again, maybe get an [b]apology[/b] out of them…

Aupa relapsed into a stress-release habit, something developed within the past week when she was forced to leave Kïy Hölkı: she picked up loose pebbles and stones from the floor of the room, and stared at them intently. It was pretty neat to watch the moss crawl over the rocks with unnatural speed, cracking them and tearing them apart with all the finesse of an amputee.