[center][h1]Evi Olaurae[/h1][/center]

Some tales are better left untold. 

The popular ones—tales of mighty heroes, tragedy of lovers, treasure discovered—are somewhat entertaining. Most of the good tales end with a moral, a lesson that the reader should then take on and live by. A tale of a captured drow who freezes to death aboard a ship as it's near reaching her destination? Well, there's no entertainment in that, and the moral is obvious enough to not having warrant the telling of this story in the first place. That's what the young drow thought, anyway, as she sat crouched on the starboard in fetal position with her thin cloak clutched around her shivering body as if the cloth would ward off the goddess Lloth from snatching her soul.

Her silvery strands of hair lashed about her face with every gust of wind, and Evi further contemplated her predicament. She was so close to freedom, wasn't she? What a waste it would be to die here. The goddess was likely near, observing the drow's final moments, smiling and nodding. Evi could not blame her, she knew she'd committed many crimes, and taking the life of another was capital. She deserved a death that was harsh, cruel, and as bitter as these frosty winds.

Just not yet. 

The budding assassin pulled herself together, letting her protective position come undone and standing up straight. She ignored the shaking of her knees--was it because of the cold, or because she hadn't eaten anything since their latest stop? Either way, there was not much she could do about it. Land was approaching. No, [i]freedom[/i] was approaching. That was far more important.

She left to seek Ymeera, who sat on her hands and knees scrubbing the main deck, as suspected. The human girl’s chestnut hair fell about her shoulders in soft, flowery waves, but her usually pleasant and soft-featured face twisted sourly. When she discovered Evi approaching, she smiled, but the concentrated wrinkles of her brow remained. “Should you not be with Poembi?” she asked the drow, wiping sweat from her forehead. “I believe she's requested you in the hull.” Her brown eyes, unsure, glanced off at the land drawing nearer and nearer. Her face seemed pale. Ymeera wasn't fit for conditions such as this. It was obvious.

“Poembi can lick my filthiest leather boot,” Evi stated, crossing her arms as her eye twinkled mischievously. “And you can tell her I said that.”

Ymeera laughed for the first time in awhile. Her joyful face seemed to be coming back. [i]She still has some life in her[/i], Evi thought. [i]Great. We just may be able to make it out of here alive.[/i]

[center][b]The Camp[/b][/center]

By the time Evi, Ymeera, and the band had reached camp, chilled rain was falling swiftly. Evi didn't mind the rain. It had been a long while since her last bathing, and the water was refreshing. If only it were not so cold. 

She huddled closely to her human friend, each footstep met with the wet sloshing of mud, as the rest of the bandits followed behind, hands inconspicuously situated onto their weapons. An order from Poembi, of course, to keep a close eye on the females. She knew just how slippery the drow in particular could be, and was not willing to lose such an important tool, especially one who often overheard what could be dangerous information. While the entire camp bustled about in spite of the rain, large tents set up here and there, merchants negotiating the prices of their wears, the warmth and smell of food wafting in the air, Evi couldn't let her gaurd down. If her and Ymeera were to escape, they had better do so fast. But how? Sorna and his men wouldn't just [i]allow[/i] them to leave, surely. 

"We must stop here," the male drow began, halting in place. The rest of the band stopped immediately, as well as Evi. Sorna's head was pointed towards a sharp sound of metal meeting metal, coming from a tent. Blacksmith. "The rest of you men go on ahead to where we agreed," he ordered the brutes, then turning to Evi, "You follow me."

The two entered the dark tent while Ymeera waited outside. The smell of metal and flame awakened a sleeping being inside her, one that had rested their entire journey. She felt alive. Ready. 

The blacksmith appeared to be a beastkin. Large and covered in brown fur, his gigantic, sharply clawed paws gripped a hammer in one and a delicate blade adorned with obsidian crystals in the other. The beastkin's lower half seemed to be bursting out of his leather pants, but his boots appeared in as good as a condition as new. Sorna smirked slyly, in a way that most would not have noticed. 

"What brings you two here?" The blacksmith asked with a raise of a furry brow, not looking up from his work. 

The male drow quickly turned to his female counterpart. "Give me that." Without waiting, he grabbed Evi's sword from her sheath and set it upon the table, before taking a seat himself. He didn't offer Evi the seat beside him, and she didn't take it. "Do some work on this, will you? I want it to be as daunting as Lloth's impenetrable gaze by the time you're finished." He winked at the grizzly bear-like creature, but the beastkin was not amused. 

"How much do you have to offer me?"

"Enough."

"How much is enough?" The creature was frightening. 

"How's this?" The male drow sat a pouch onto the table between them, and dancing, shiny coins could be heard from within it. "All silver."

"This must be very important to you," the blacksmith observed, eyeing the blade Evi had carried on her person for months now. Even Evi did not understand it. If it were so important to him, why had he left it in her care?

Sorna ignored the comment. "So, what is all the excitement, my furry friend? The inhabitants of this camp seem to be running about as if they've lost their heads." He wore a disinterested look on his face, but Evi noticed the intense glint in his eye. There was a target here, and one she would likely have to kill. Maybe someone special enough that Sorna wanted her to use that sword. 

"You're very right about that, sir drow," the bear creature answered as he began his work on Evi's sword. "There are many unfamiliar faces. I go where I need to, and as natural, my work comes with me. This area of Allaria is not unfamiliar to me, but many of the campers here seem to be."

"Perhaps there is a person important residing here," Sorna continued with a sigh and a roll of the eye, as if he'd rather be talking anything else. Evi thought then, he could have been an actor if he was not such a fool. "Maybe," the male drow leaned forward then, "someone looking for trouble?"

The beastkin chuckled. It was a low, rumbling chuckle, as if it were a formidable thunder coming from the gray clouds up above, rather than the beast's own broad chest. Frightening, but also pleasant. "Have you ever heard of the Shadowwald, sir drow?"

"Sorna, please," Sorna insisted. "And no, I have not." Yet another lie. "Do tell."

[center][b]The Moving[/b][/center]

The two drow left the blacksmith's tent with Evi's freshly reinforced sword safely in it's cloth sheath. The rain had not ceased. The human girl was still waiting, and had not tried to escape. Good.

Evi, feeling confident, put her hands on her hips and turned, right in the way of Sorna's path. "What was that matter? A new kill?" Perhaps her face was too smug, but that was something Evi had little concern about.

Ymeera glanced nervously between the two, as the taller drow frowned in disapproval, his violet eyes a fiery warning. "Do not be so brazen, Evi," he responded in a low voice. "We've indeed come to the right place. Szazah is here."

"But the Shadowwald?" Ymeera piped. So she [i]had[/i] been listening. 

"Only a myth." Sorna waved a hand at her. "Thanks to our furry friend, we now know which tent The Moving is taking place. You, little bird, will go end him for me, won't you?"

Evi smirked. She was no little bird. Perhaps more of a... snake? "Indeed, [i]sir drow[/i]," she mocked. "I have no protest—"

"Good. Now hurry along before I become angry."

"—Except one." Evi smiled to her friend. "I'm bringing Ymeera along." She grabbed the human's arm, but he grabbed the human's other.

The male drow spoke slowly and deliberately, "You shall [i]not[/i] take the human along. You shall go to the tent, and bring our lady that foolish traitor's head! Be aware, little bird, that if you shall not get [i]his[/i], I will have [i]yours[/i]. And hers." Ymeera stared horrified as he grinned. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sorna." Evi smiled, but her insides were aflame. If she thought she would be able to successfully win a battle with Sorna, no being in all of Allaria would be able to stop her at that moment. But she knew such a fantasy could not be brought to life. Sorna was much too experienced, much too talented, with a blade in particular. Ymeera would also be put in danger if she was to be so reckless. It wasn't worth it. 

Another time. 

[center]× × × × ×[/center]

[i]"If none other is to enter, we shall begin."[/i]

Evi made it just in time to hear this piece of dialogue. Having snuck by a fish beastkin earlier, she silently crouched at the mouth of the tent, the right flap partially concealing her small form, and peered in. Creatures of all kinds existed inside, and the look of it caused Evi's chest to swell with admiration and intrigue. So many were brave enough to rise against the Apotheosis, but did they have any idea of what they were in for? A female beastkin monk, an astonishingly handsome half-breed, a shockingly tall male of her own kind, a pleasantly faced dwarf (whom may have indulged a bit much), human male and fearsome dragonoid, and even what looked to be a Capybkin, but Evi had only read of such a thing once, back when she could still be considered fresh out of her mother's womb, still residing at Port Jinn with Ymeera.

[i]"We are going to look for the Shadowwald."[/i]

Evi followed the sound of the voice to a man she correctly assumed was this Szazah, perhaps a leader of some sort. What she knew for sure was that despite his strange conviction in these imaginative snow elves, he did not look to be an easy target, much less an easy kill. Even less of an easy kill as every other creature in the tent seemed to be an ally to him. It would be foolish of her to try something right then and there. But foolishness had never stopped her in the past. The real obstacle existed as: did she even want to? 

She listened forward. This 'the Moving' could be her one-way ticket out of the evil witch's hands, from under Sorna's eye, and back to her own will. It also—she was forced to take note of—could be a jump from the kettle and into the flame. There was a chance, a small sliver, that she would be able to leave with this camp while also rescuing Ymeera. Or, it may be better to leave Ymeera behind. If the witch thought Evi left on her own accord, she could not justifiably punish Ymeera, right? 

Evi knew it was all a ruse to fool herself. She wanted her sweet freedom, and she wanted it now. Nothing, not even her lifelong human companion, was as dear to her.

Three hours.