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	[color=89cff0][i][b]How,[/b][/i][/color] Annalise asked herself, for the nth time, as this random man just happened across her. There was so little in the way of seclusion, as a port town was chock-a-block with travel, but, the well had offered the best potential... and yet, here she was, besieged by another person with no sense of personal space. Back in her dungeon, she knew the layout from the first floor to the tenth, from the extravagant Lobby to Madame Lin Daw's very Bed Chamber, and could never be taken off guard by the routine happenings. Upon the surface, without her sensory puddle, even a weak human could offset her sense, and find her compromised.

Exchanging armor, as she was, she couldn't bring herself to run, 'lest she be chased, and her armor come undone fully in the pursuit, and she be revealed. Unlike most Slimes, Annalise had a flaw that prompted her to always be in a suit of armor; a flaw called: Shame. Feasting on the once, well-hidden phylactery of Madame Lin Daw, and abruptly ending the Lich's reign by sheer accident -- [i]it wasn't her fault the phylactery was a delicious gold urn that was sealed shut with decadent platinum gilding, and placed in her mouth, while she was hibernating.[/i] -- had the unintended side effects of, firstly, bringing the death of her Dungeon Master, and, secondly, instilling her with the locked away emotions and thoughts of Lin Daw, before her Lich-ification.

That included, shame of the naked form.

Half-undressed before some random man, Annalise was nearly paralyzed with embarrassment, and did the only thing that came to mind: [i][u]she leapt into the well.[/u][/i]

	Fully stripping  her armor, Annalise hit the water with a lazy splash, and her thoughts raced to redress herself. She needed to focus on speed over power, in a fight with a seasoned warrior, evasion was better than brutality, as she was always on the clock. Not to mention, a Salamander sounded suspiciously like a Dragon Race, and it was always better to be faster than a Dragon, as they'd few weaknesses. If she couldn't predict the Salamander's element, and she didn't intend to overpower the warrior, then she would pick an armor that was designed around the idea of speed and generic fire defense.

Retching, she threw up the beginnings of the armor...

	After three minutes, the random man, should he still be there, or anyone that was, would see a three-jointed, four-fingered hand topped with three-inch claws, as Annalise pulled herself over the mouth of the well in her new armor set. It looked like it was meticulously crafting from obsidian, yet smelt as if is forged of sulfur; encompassing her from head to foot, and letting no part of her show, beyond her luminous silver eyes – now, mixed with a glowing crimson. All too suddenly, a series of vents opened upon the helm and hind of the armor; expelling hellfire in the magical kept design of a pair of ears, long mane of hair, and a flowing tail.

The armor was clearly designed around the imagery of a Hellhound -- or, perhaps, for one -- and seemed almost impossible human to wear, yet held the potential that something human could jam itself in there. Annalise didn't give them much time to think, and she suddenly took off in a perfect bestial gait, and sensed out Magnus.

She didn't want to abandon him. Even if he did push her.
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