[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/50VBWNfh/63507c917b644ae085a53d695ad43269.png[/img]
[img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/2fa3b68ea7ccb5e241580009fa3f8dfe/tumblr_nrjjdcXvK71uq1wtvo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][h3][b][i][center][color=8519A2]Arc I - Terreille in Trouble[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h3]
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[center][h3][color=SlateBlue]Faeril Ashkevron[/color]
[img]https://img00.deviantart.net/57a4/i/2017/010/a/2/yennefer_of_vengerberg_by_nikivaszi-da82bef.jpg[/img]
[color=SlateBlue]Present Day
Location - Faeril's Workroom, Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi[/color][/h3]
[color=SlateBlue]Interacting with[/color] [@Slim Shady]
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Faeril's mood was the not the best, but it was far from the worst. Though she watched with approval as the Warlord Prince sat upon the long low table she used for patients or mixing herbs depending on the need. At least he had enough sense to insist she treat a wound upon the bed that took up part of the room. Though as Xandar removed the bandages, the glacier eyes narrowed and temper flared as she listened to the idiot male prattle on. Quick steps carried her over to the fool boy as her hand cuffed Xandar firmly upside the head. [color=SlateBlue]"Be silent you fool male."[/color] The Healer snarled as she eyed the wound and summoneda large wooden frame about a foot square resembling a loom from the cabinet across the room as the wooden doors clattered open. And what would appear to Xandar as silk appeared from the storage the Blood could [b][i]Vanish[/i][/b] things to. Setting the loom in her lap the woman's muttering took an edge as she fixed a poisonous look at the Warlord Prince. As a Healer, her instincts drove her to aid him. As a Black Widow, her desire was to gut him for being a absolute fool

[color=SlateBlue]"Hell's Fires, Mother Night, and May the Darkness be Merciful! What you appeared not to notice was that they struck you with a Black Widow's poison. Though not one I cannot combat. What on earth possessed you to even seperate yourself from your Ebon-Grey Jewel? I thought you had some brains between your ears though apparently you only use your muscles like most of your lot."[/color] Snapped Faeril proving well how she had earned her reputation as a woman not to be crossed. Stripping the gloves from her hands, the woman flexed her right hand and from under her ring finger extended a snake tooth looking claw. Xandar would well know this for the venomous weapon of the Black Widows. [color=SlateBlue]"So be a smart, snarly male and do not resist someone who is trying to help your worthless hide."[/color] With no hesitation Faeril drove her nail into the man's wound. The poison of a Red Jeweled Black Widow setting the Warlord Prince's blood on fire. The Black would kill someone in the blink of an eye, the Ebon-Grey in second, the Grey in minutes, and the Red was just as lethal. Withdrawing her hand the snake tooth sliding back under the woman's nail. A shield sliding over herself, as her eyes watched Xandar with a mix of wary suspicion and pure annoyance. Like he had tramped through her favorite flower bed.

Gripping the wooden frame Faeril's hand began to move as her Craft flowed over the wound through her poison. Seeking out it's rival and scorching it out. A lesser poison to be sure, but a potent one. [color=SlateBlue]"The Queen... Which Queen? We have half a dozen within the District and I need to know which one is going to come breathing down my neck, you prick."[/color] The grumbling and snarling of the witch was obvious as a web took place on the loom. Gesturing sharply, a bad habit of hers, a glass vial appeared and settled beneath Xandar's wound blood trickling down and into the container. [color=SlateBlue]"Move from that and I will [i]shave[/i] you."[/color] Hissed the Healer-Black Widow. [color=SlateBlue]"At least my 'children', my brothers, are clever enough to heed me."[/color] Nevermind that she had just threatened to essentially geld a Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince.

[color=8519A2]Front Palor, Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi[/color]
[@13org] [@Zoey White]
[color=FireBrick]"You would be wise to watch your words, Mikhail."[/color] The Green Jeweled Warlord noted with a tired noted in voice as though he had just stepped away from the killing field. The red rage that was driven by the harsh nature of the Blood especially in the males. Turning back to the kitchen, the man paused to glare at Denvar as his brother was already putting himself between Gen and the coffee.

Nodding in agreement with his brother, the lighter jeweled Warlord Prince nodded in agreement. [color=Tan]"Faeril wears darker Jewels than the rest of us. She can handle herself and would not take kindly to interruption."[/color] Giving a pointed look towards Dareen, the Eyrie narrowed his golden eyes. [color=Tan]"And you might do well to remember your manners before Faeril tasks herself with remind you of them."[/color]

As if just noticing the Pruulish witch, Gen looked between the woman and his brother with a growing annoyance. Which Xandar had not helped. But Faeril had asked them to leave it and for her sake the brothers would heed the warning. [color=FireBrick]"Why is she even here?"[/color] Denvar answered with a simple word, or name rather. Randalvar. Annoyance made Gen rustle his memberous wings. [color=FireBrick]"That old man needs to mind his own business. Though he does have a point. What is a Pruulish woman doing armed and in Aren? Unless you're hunting for new 'toys' for the queens."[/color]

[color=8519A2]Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille[/color]
[@eclecticwitch]
The owner looked pleased as Jassen nodded mutely. The member of the First Circle eyed the innkeeper. The man obviously didn't know of Fatima's rank. A small blessing. It seemed to the old Hyallian that the male was eager to get a bit more business and take advantage of this unlucky weather during his slow season. These particular markets for the chattel that were, to the Blood of Terreille, at the bottom of society's rung were not open to deal with the season's rains as the late Spring storm outside whipped and rattled the windows. If he was any judge this would be one of the last storms to blow it's wrath out from the Askavi Mountains.

"We'll accept." Jassen said gruffly, handing payment to the man as well as a terse order. "Whatever you have for food in [i]our[/i] room shortly. It's been cold." Perhaps it was rude of him, but he didn't want to be polite with this crowd of people so close to his Queen. If they sussed out the Lady then none of his brothers in Eldan would be safe. Nodding the innkeeper snagged on of the servers and passed on the order before leading Queen and drunk to the room. It was a small but sturdy room on the first floor. Loud from the chatter of the common room, but the bed was comfortable looking enough (and would prove the same to touch). Clean and tidy summed up the various small shelves that held books and private correspondence, which the inn keeper quickly [b][i]Vanished[/i][/b].

"If you've need of anything, just ask. Please, it's no trouble." The portly fellow blabbered eager for each coin that would ease the 'gifts' he would give the Queens when they came for the local market in a few month's time. "A server will deliver your meal shortly." The door was firmly shut behind him as Jassen nearly growled about tossing the man out onto his ass. Firmly setting himself against the door for a minute of two before shuffling about to study Fatima.

"Does it suit you, Lady?" He stated in a tone that was a grumbled mixed with the drawl of a someone who had been drinking too much for too long.

[@SilverPaw] 
The door was merely a landing for stairs that spiraled up into the reaches of the inn. The group of men were on one of the landing while the witch seemed to be busy with a rather well dressed aristo male with the green eyes and dark tan skinned of the Shalador people. The aristo seemed to be arguing with some heat. Enough that it kept the hunters from getting near their prey and risking this Warlord's wrath. In fact, they seemed to be sorely tempted to flee rather than get caught up with the mess. Jandar would be able to tell that man wore a Green jewel. Evident as it wore it openly. With his dress and mannerism the man looked as though he would be at home in some Queen's Court and not a inn by the road side.

"So, you have no way to discourage a pickpocket. A thief? Or do you encourage it?" Snarled the Warlord as the witch tried to placate him. A hint of fear filling the male's voice.

Shaking her head, the woman raised her hands helplessly. "Lord, I don't know what you are talking about. We don't encourage theft and the owner of The Root's Teeth won't have it. Please, if you tell me what is going on I may be able to help you."

"What I said!" Howled the male as he slammed a hand down on the wooden railing of the stairway. "My documents were stolen. Mother Night are you so dense?! Do you want to be responsible for the breaking of every witch in this Inn when I explain to my Queen it was your little establishment that cause the loss of those documents?" There was a sly and cruel look in the Warlord's eyes as the witch paled. "Oh, you wouldn't want to be out in that market. So unless you want to see how you'd like life without your jewels, find me that documents."

It was then that the smiling, cruel leader who was now wearing a sneer spoke up. "Or just break open her mind now and be done with it. Not like anyone will miss her." Catching his interruption the male inclined his head to the Shaladorian. "Lord Erkyn."

"I wouldn't just stand there, Travin. It was your incompetence that allowed this to happen. I brought you as a guard not to drink and oogle women." 'Travin' jerked and a flicker of hatred passed over his face that Jandar could see. It was thankful perhaps that the door was cast in shadow from the stairs doubling back over the entrance and leaving it in shadow.