[color=slategray] “[color=chocolate]I shouldn't...[/color]” C-3 says. “[color=chocolate]Meat... isn't good for me...[/color]” Standing up, C-3 gathered herself, Loli-size again, started for the cave mouth. “[color=chocolate]I'll go see what herbs and rocks are scattered around here. Surely, something is edible,[/color]” she says, leaving the bulk of the meat to Tristan and Charlotte. There was no universe in which she wanted to admit that meat made her gassy. That didn't happen to someone of her caliber... as long as she shied away from meat. Red; White; Dark; All in-between; It didn't matter, if it was once living flesh and blood, it couldn't enter her perilously delicate stomach. Shuddering, as she scoured the ground for basic herbs, she was unimpressed by the growth. It seemed anywhere that populated by primarily Human or Elven species would only host the most basic needs. Sighing, C-3 inhaled slowly, and exhaled slowly, gathering up the magic she'd siphoned off Charlotte, and solidified her form into a smooth, flesh-like texture, as pushed her torch oil into her skin, and mixed powdered chalk into her obsidian-hued skin; adding the white powder to the black, and tinting her skin more of dark chestnut. Rubbing her cheeks, she raised her cheekbones; Rubbing her nose, she pressed it inwards like a squat button; Rubbing her temples, she formed pointed ears that jutted outwards pronouncedly; Rubbing her eyes, she shaped them with a fair slant, yet childishly a wide gaze. Looking into a small stream, C-3 looked at her face. “[color=chocolate]A little too Drow,[/color]” she chastised herself, “[color=chocolate]It will do, though. Now, my voice,[/color]” she cleared her throat, and rubbing it, “[color=red]How's this,[/color]” her pitch was too low, “[color=yellow]Let's try this,[/color]” and ended up way too high. Frowning, C-3 tried once more. “[color=violet]This outta be nice,[/color]” and she hit the sweet spot. “[color=violet]Perfect,[/color]” C-3 says, “[color=violet]Now, just to add the Elven accent. Ahem,[/color]” she poked at her throat, “[color=violet][i]Mine name is Cecilia Camilla Charr,[/i][/color]” she curtsied, “[color=violet][i]A pleasure to meet thee.[/i][/color]” C-3 made a face, but sucked it up. People weren't all that friendly to Slimes, and Obsidian Slime, less-so; turned out, people don't like things with an explosive penchant. Standing, C-3 crushed a pill in her mouth, “[color=violet][i][b][Syrup of the Wizard][/b][/i][/color]”, and extended her hands, “[color=violet][i][b][Create Rags][/b][/i][/color]”, before creating a pile of rags, and snapping her fingers, “[color=violet][i][b][Fae-weave][/b][/i][/color]”. Spells cast, C-3 donned the rags that were could be called clothing with GREAT consideration, and rubbed her gooey hair. “[color=violet][i]Last bit,[/i][/color]” she says, as she shaped slime into short, curly hair; added firmness with powdered flint, and smoothness to the touch with her torch oil. “[color=violet][i]I look like an orphan,[/i][/color]” C-3 says, as she wrapped rags around her like bandages, “[color=violet][i]...but, I can use that to mine advantage.[/i][/color]” Smirking, Cecilia Camilla Charr the Orphaned Draw slowly made her way towards the near township. [hr] Tamara wasn’t concerned about the aggravated assault by the random demoness; her full-blooded kin were stupid like that, untempered like a half-breed. Sure, full-bloodedness allowed for a significant margin of power, but, a lack of temper begat nothing more than a wild animal. It was easy to turn the supposed block to her advantage, as Tamara shifted her katana, and the Material Severing Sword slid down the sword that parried it... an enchanted edge cutting through the foreign metal without slowing. If not for having to dodge from the sudden kick -- either lashed out of instinct or a simple follow-up -- the demoness would have found her sword nearly cleaved in two, instead of simply hanging on by a mere inch of steel. Normally, Tamara would not be bothered by a kick -- her armor would have devoured the impact -- of any sort, however, she was concerned for Regalia, and didn’t want her caught by a stray inch. Fortunately, that didn’t seem like it would be a problem, henceforth, as Nimoa stood before her -- passage obfuscated by a small, but tangible stream of water -- and was made helpless. Sheathing her katana, Tamara shifted Regalia into both arms. “[color=pink]Stand even, Vampire,[/color]” she ordered, “[color=pink]There is no honor in attacking the helpless.[/color]” Suddenly, there was a tug at Tamara's sheathed wakizashi... [hr] C-3 sighed, as she made her way through the village. It was... for lack of a better adjective: BORING. Sure, she was there to try and steal something greener than the meager selection along its perimeter... but, still, SOMETHING had to happen. Fortunately, it was the shout out of two demons and the clash of swords that brought her hopes up, as Valkira flung herself at Tamara, and was counterattacked. C-3 could practically smell the ironworks, the smoke, and powders; such finery in masonry and metallurgy. Her stomach rumbled, and she tottered over to Tamara. '[color=chocolate][i]Wait?! What!? A Dark Paladin!? Here!? But, they only exist around Kybinae Village...![/i][/color]’ she thought, as she recognized the infamous armor. '[color=chocolate][i]Relax. Cambion are friendly with Drow. I'll be okay...[/i][/color]’ Reaching up, as Tamara declared her intention to face her prey honorably, C-3 pulled at the sheathed weapon she could reach, and drew the Samurai's attention. Turning, Tamara looked down from behind her mask, and set Regalia on C-3's head... before giddly squealing and hugging the hell out of C-3. “[color=pink][i]You are so cutest! So PRECIOUS![/i][/color]” she'd abandoned dignity for wonton enjoyment. “[color=pink][i]What do you desire of me, precious demi-blood? I will procure the very Heavens, if so needed![/i][/color]” “[color=violet][i]Mine needs are --[/i][/color]" C-3's stomach burbled, cutting her short. “[color=pink]Food![/color]” Tamara says, “[color=pink]So shall it be![/color]” C-3 had no chance to fight, as Tamara carried her and the chimeral infant to the nearest place to eat. Nimoa and Valkira utterly forgotten for the time being. In the short distance, Charlotte would feel a challenge issued and rival born... [/color]