Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by LadyRunic
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LadyRunic The Laughing Raven

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble




In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Interacting with @Slim Shady @13org @Silverpaw [@ZoeyWhite] @eclecticwitch




"It's a bit soon to be worrying about the watch," Gen noted with a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes. The viper rats were many and not all had been in the nest when Xandar had set it ablaze. Their skittering rustled about the ruins of the buildings, as they became agitated by the death of their kin. "Whatever we decide to do, we best be careful." The Eyrien warrior warned. "Those viper rats are deadly if they get the numbers." Dareen would be well aware of the dangers imposed by those small venomous rodents, a common problem in Pruul. There they fed upon whatever they could sink their deadly teeth into. The poison that they held was not uncurable but it was extremely painful and when combined with their numbers that would swarm a grown man.

Faeril meanwhile was giving Jandar a stern look rather than just glaring at him. "While I would be tempted to let the witch lead as I have no doubt Dareen has seen such witches before. "There is the downfall of the fact she isn't of the aristo naturally." There was something of an apologetic note in the Black Widow's voice as she admitted the fact. "Which means it would be best if Dareen could hang back a bit, perhaps be the docile sort of witch, which means you need to lead the both of you, Jandar."

"Slaves wouldn't be viable." Rumbled Bellinar looking troubled as he eyed the Lady Ashkevron. "You're not suggesting..."

"A merchant yes, perhaps of old wealth. Feel free to admit you have several estates and let them wonder. If they persist I would suggest that you acclaim lands in Dhemlan. A Hayll mother, a Dhemlan father." Faeril agreed looking rather put out at the idea. "Which means you must scorn your father and all the Dhemlan do. Accept only that you are of Hayll, and enjoy its... entertainments." Turning her icy eyes over to Mikhail she raised a brow. "If you must." She sighed, helpless to argue with the fact that the Dea Al Mon could very well handle himself. A third set of eyes would be useful, but it troubled her. Something was not sitting right and she could not for all the skill she possessed in her Craft could put a finger on it.

Denvar looked amused at Dareen while Faeril and his brother talked. "I think you can probably borrow one of Faeril's. If you don't mind wing slits."

"And it being out of date." Bellinar noted with some good-humored ribbing at Faeril.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Zoey Boey
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Zoey Boey better than the alternative

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Dareen Kahina

outskirts of the village


Dareen sighed, covering her eyes with the palm of her hand, crossing her other arm across herself. "Demure and docile. That's me, no doubt about it." She said sarcastically. Obviously the Pruul was in no position to deny this plan, even if she wanted too. Though while she was trying to assign some kind of hierarchy to the group it was seemingly difficult to do so. So she would just go along with it for now- besides, it wouldn't be that bad. "All right, Jandar. We could be...land owners or something. Pretty sure people just get money from owning land, right? At some point the money just starts appearing in rich people's laps."

Looking over at Denvar, and Bellinar, Dareen shook her head. "Woah hold on a minute, call the whole thing off. If the dress is out of date, I can't do it. Can't you tell I am a...fashion...queen?" She trailed off, failing to find the right word. She gestured down at her dark brown tunic under a vest, with straps and holsters for travelling supplies and weapons dangling off every which way. She chuckled without smiling. Vanishing her weapons into thin air she threw up her arms and shrugged.

"Well, if I'm doing this, I guess I need the dress. I've never put one on before so, you know, I might fuck it up. And am I hiding my tattoos somehow or are we just hoping no one asks? I heard someting about make up?" As she spoke, Dareen pre-emptively began to prepare to change clothes. For the first time since she's been with the group the woman removed the scarf and hood around her neck and head, revealing her short black hair underneath. It was very
in a diagonal circle around her head, and were it at it's full length would come down to her chin, at most.

"Oh, yeah, also, not exactly the long flowing locks kind of person. Hope that's not an issue." She pointed jeeringly at her head, balling up her head apparel and holding it up a little. "Should I keep the hood on? What would be more suspicious, my hair or a hood?" Shrugging with pseudo-exasperation, Dareen was trying to co-operate but it was clear that she was out of her depth when it came to this kind of thing. Faeril was right in the way that she had seen women like this before, but it was a whole other thing to actually pretend to be one. Maybe Dareen was worried there some kind of secret password that would immediately out her as a fake. And being discovered as a fake rich woman would probably be one of the most humiliating experiences in her life, had she not already had all her secrets laid bare infront of Faeril a week or so ago. But no one said she needed to have a new number two spot already. Darkness forbid she actually have to fight someone in a dress.

Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by SilverPaw
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Jandar Varan
Ruined town

“I know I must be the one to lead,” Jandar replied to Faeril with a bemused smile. He was one of Aristo, so he obviously could more easily pass as one, despite the differences between Kaeleer and Terreille. “I was simply commenting that I don’t possess the detailed knowledge of Terreille’s customs that one of this Realm’s natives does. Which is why we are having this in-depth discussion and consultation,” he clarified, hand gesturing in a wide circle as he encompassed the group he was talking to. Just then, Fatima stumbled her way over, as if in a daze, not looking at anyone as she made her way to him. A blink later, the Warlord felt a surprisingly strong grip around his left wrist, a weight leaning against his body as the Queen practically collapsed onto him.

“Hey,” Jandar murmured to her, mild confusion apparent in his tone – he’d still not quite gotten used to just how tactile his (future) Lady could be, despite the fact that he always returned the gestures freely. The Warlord put his right arm across Fatima’s shoulders, beginning to pet her head lightly and with a slight hesitation. It was kind of awkward, if he thought about it, which…he tried not to. I guess it’s what having a little sister might have been like. Though I really shouldn’t think of a Queen as that, he thought, lips thinning as he suppressed a wince.

Keeping the loose half-hug around Fatima, Jandar looked over her head, continuing the conversation and letting the Queen just be for now, right palm leisurely scratching at her scalp and brushing through her hair. He was secure in the knowledge that Fatima could easily leave the proximity whenever she tired of it. “A sight shield,” he commented, brows rising slightly upwards as he observed Mikhail’s demonstration. “Excellent,” he stated matter-of-factly. “That said, I’d rather not bring the whole coach. Just the horses, perhaps,” he said, frowning as he considered the pros and cons of the suggestion.

“The main reason against the coach is drawing attention. Especially because we'd have to make our way back here eventually," his emphasis made it obvious that being followed here would be bad for a variety of reasons. "Also, being rich is one thing, filthy rich and showing off quite another. We must be careful not to arouse too many questions,” though his remark countered Mikhail’s suggestion to bring the coach with them to town, the Warlord wasn’t addressing only him any longer, but rather Faeril and company as well.

“Even as it is, the nobility of this town may wonder why they haven’t heard of us before, if we are so well of and I the purported somewhat scandalous product of a shrewd, possibly Aristo Hayll, and,” he affixed a sneer on his face, injecting utmost revulsion into his tone as he continued “and uppity Dhemlan thief.” Then the Kaeleeran native huffed, easing his expression back to neutral. “That’s the kind of attitude you had in mind, correct?” the question was quite rhetorical in nature, however, since Jandar was confident in his acting abilities.

“In any case, if we are to be interacting with the upper class, we will need fake names. Just in case we unwittingly arouse suspicion despite our best attempts, I do not want our true names – or appearances – to reach the capital. Besides, I have already met one Lord in Dhemlan, and I still carry the Vanished corpse of one of his men with me,” he added dryly. That particular event had been pushed to the back of his mind due to the events in Askavi, but it wasn’t as if he’d forgotten about it.

Dareen spoke up next, and Jandar wryly smirked at her frankly peasant remarks. “Yes, you can be the daughter of a landlord and a businessman, whatever business might be most prosperous in your lands,” he replied evenly. Though he couldn’t quite his sarcasm completely under bay for his next statement; he chuckled without humor. “I realize it’s not in your nature, but just keep your head down, eyes averted, cling to my side, and only reply with a vague nod if I actively seek your confirmation on something,” he drawled. Then, he cocked his head lightly to the side as he considered fashion matters, disregarding Dareen’s joking attitude about it. “Wing slits and old fashioned might be rather a dead give-away, I’m afraid,” he murmured, considering. “Perhaps…” he added before trailing off, though pointedly looked at Fatima.

Not saying anything directly to the Queen just yet, he looked back to Dareen. “Speaking of makeup,” he glanced in Faeril’s direction, “I should have some applied to me as well. Both to make me unrecognizable and to make it seem more likely that I am part or wholly Hyllian.” He expected Faeril and Fatima to be able to help him with that. While he had a very basic knowledge in applying make-up – as one tended to gain as an Aristocrat, whether they were male or female – he was no expert. Moreover, the Hyllian race was exclusive to Terreille, so he could only guess at what kind of subtle differences he’d need to make to his face to pass as one of them.

Jandar groaned at Dareen’s next revelation. “No hood, no,” he asserted. “We can have your hair washed, then you braid it again, then we’ll cover it with a veil." The Warlord sighed silently at the ridiculous prospect of having to pass such an obvious peasant for a noble. “We’ll put you in a dress, don’t worry,” he waved a dismissive hand. Getting a proper dress in the first place was more of an issue. Speaking off…“Fatima, can you help us with the disguise and the fake names? You’re Hyllian, so I assume you have some knowledge of that culture?” he questioned her quietly, gripping her shoulder comfortingly. “Also, if you happen to have a spare dress and jewelry Vanished somewhere…?” he wondered. Jandar had given her some time to calm down from the bout of grief he suspected had taken ahold of her, but he really did need her cooperation for what they were about to attempt.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by 13org
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13org Stay fresh!

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In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador


"Old habits die hard..." Mikhail replied as he heard Gennar.

Truth be told, Mikhail was saying that not only due to the Viper Rats, but just as he said, it was already an old habit of his. Plus, the chance that Queen Melian had indeed sent someone after them was high... And the chance they might be more qualified than a common thug wasn't zero.

"I do have a very light sleep, but I could set up a trap around the area we will rest using some wires I brought with me. Enough to wake me up if something gets nearby." Mikhail suggested to Gennar as he mentioned how deadly Viper Rats could be if they used their numbers.

Turning his attention towards Jandar, Faeril and Dareen, who were talking about their plan regarding sending Jandar and Dareen to the town, Mikhail nodded, agreeing with Faeril as she mentioned the merchant background. It was much safer than a noble one, as merchants weren't exactly bound by many of the social rules from high nobility.

"Don't worry too much, Dareen. Merchants aren't bound by many of the high nobility's social rules. It shouldn't be that hard. More often than not, merchants tend to be quite 'eccentric'." Mikhail said.

The moment Jandar mentioned Fatima, asking her to help them to think about how they would 'doll up' Dareen and the rest of the things related to the disguise, he nodded, agreeing with their choice.

"Fatima is certainly much more versed in such matters than I am." He said, giving a few steps back and letting them discuss such things amongst themselves.

"As I said previously, Faeril, I will fulfill any role assigned to me with the best of my abilities. If you wish me to remain here guarding you or if you want me to go with Jandar and Dareen, so be it." He finished, waiting to see if she had any particular job for him or if she would give him permission to do whatever he wanted.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Slim Shady
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Slim Shady The Real Slim Shady

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Xandar Markov


Location: Rat Nest-> Carriage


Satisfied with his work, Xandar turned around to join the rest of the group. He was sure there would be more of those viper rats around, but taking care of that nest was the main problem. Either they would run away with their tail between their legs, or they would group up, making them much easier to wipe out in one shot. At least it would be more exciting than sitting around the carriage all day.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, slowly blowing it out of his nose as he walked back to the group. It seemed the lot of them were having a conversation, it seemed some of them would be going into town to do some investigating, and Xandar knew right away one of those people would not be him. After all, Xandar was not one who could easily hide among a crowd. Besides, that wasn't very much his preferred style anyhow.

Well, that sounds all fine and dandy. I guess I'll just sit around and kick rocks while you guys go on vacation in town. I already burned down a whole nest of those Viper Rats, the little bastards. That could only amuse me for so long though, they die so quickly." Xandar sighed, taking the last drag of his cigarette before burning it into ashes and crushing it, letting the ashes carry themselves in the air. "If things get too dreadfully boring around here I may go on a walk, so if you need anything now speak up."

Xandar yawned and stretched, leaning himself up to the side of the carriage, open and facing the rest of the group as he crossed his arms, looking about at the scenery. He would pay just enough attention to the conversation to get the gist of it, unless specifically addressed, but most of the time he would spent zoned out as his mind wandered to what they could potentially coming up on in the future. Hanging around characters like these, nothing every seemed dull for too long.
Hidden 4 yrs ago 4 yrs ago Post by eclecticwitch
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eclecticwitch The Effervescent

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Location: The Carriage




Fatima was glad of the physical touch Jandar initiated. It helped bring her mind back to the present. She slipped her arms around his waist and lay her head against his chest. It was obvious that they had been traveling for a day with no chance to bathe, but she imagined she smelled no rose either at this point. With his fingers running through her hair she could have purred, however, there was something much more interesting going on between all of them. Her mind was in the present and it was not at all pleased with what she supposed was happening.

She listened and gathered the clues she needed to understand the situation. They were going to leave her here and go have fun in the village. Well, not fun. And for obvious reasons, she couldn't go. But why not? For just as many reasons against there were for. A small pout came to her lips as Jandar gave her a light squeeze. She pulled back and crossed her arms beneath her chest. She chewed her cheek, considering the questions posed to her as well as the offense she was planning to take or leave. "There are distinct differences in frame," she started in a slow, cold tone. Her eyes searched the Pruulish woman as if she were seeing her for the first time since their introduction. "But I believe some adjustments could be made easily to the things I own. And her short hair is fine, it could be styled in a pleasing manner. I have a cute idea. Make-up, jewels, yes I have them all. However..." She turned eyes on all in the group, "Wouldn't it just be easier to send me? I have traveled Terrielle extensively. I have the knowledge and experience needed here." What they were actually going to do she didn't know, but she sure did sound convincing. At least to her own ears.

"Could there not be as many reasons for a young Queen to be romping the countryside? I mean to say, no one has to know I have a Court. Nor land. Though can I say I can still stake claim upon it, for truth it is abandoned, no...?" Her words became harsh and choked with the memory of the burning pyre. "What I am getting at is... Would it not be safer for me to act the part of what I am rather than have two pretend at what they are not?"

She then smiled at Dareen. "That isn't to say you wouldn't cut a lovely figure. I am all for making you up and taking you along. I do love a good make-over." She had many an idea on which dresses she could butcher and remake, make-up and hairstyles. Dareen had a figure that would lend well to an off the shoulder dress with cinching at the waist and a bell skirt. And with some reworking she had some idea for trousers to be worn visibly with a skirt cut short in the front and long in the back to allow for easier movement. The woman would have the gentlemen drooling after Fatima was done with her. As if in afterthought she did not give Xandar much more than a passing glance upon his return. She had much bigger fish to fry.
Hidden 4 yrs ago 4 yrs ago Post by LadyRunic
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LadyRunic The Laughing Raven

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble




In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Interacting with @Slim Shady @13org @Silverpaw [@ZoeyWhite] @eclecticwitch
Counter of Days: 5 days




"Definitely take the horses," Faeril agreed with a slightly annoyed look as her clothing style and choice was dismissed so eagerly by the group. She enjoyed her fashion as it appealed to her slender form and was comfortable. Perhaps it got a bit chilly in the winter and she liked a large fire in her workroom but that was not the point in the slightest. "I like my fashion." She muttered in her native tongue. Denvar looked about ready to mention something to the Widow, but his brother both sharply elbowed the other in the gut. Leaving him coughing as Faeril looked over only to shake her head at their antics. The icy eyes then turned to Mikhail as she smiled slightly. "It will be sometime before I can resume your Healing without interruption. While I appreciate your loyalty, Mikhail, I have nothing that I require help with. Though with you particular trade, I can imagine you know a far few things about disguise, and keeping unseen in a crowd." It was a fair point, with three eager older brothers (of a sort) and a cranky Ebon-Grey who had already hauled her about... The only thing she was tempted to ask of the Dea Al Mon was not something he could do. Not to mention she wanted to be the one to kick Xandar in his ribs for hauling her and her bed about. A fact she was far from forgiving him for.

The brothers three shifted uneasily as Fatima spoke of going along, they well knew the risk with Faeril, a Black Widow, but Fatima was a Queen. What was more, was that she was the Queen. She had been drawn to Faeril's vision and to lose her? It would be far too much of a risk. Far too much of a gamble even for Gen who enjoyed games of chance. Yet none of the brothers spoke, in part because they didn't want to be the ones to draw the line. Faeril narrowed her eyes but said nothing. She had spent centuries learning her Craft and something pulled her towards that town. If Fatima wished to go... It would be dangerous and foolishly so but could she really stop the Queen?

"She is not wrong. A Hayllian Queen would draw attention but it would scramble the Courts under Dorothea to find out who she is. We would have some time." But in the end they would be revealing what they meant to keep secret. "Whatever the Queen's will, I shall abide by it." The Black Widow stated solemnly though her tone was far from happy. Turning she walked from the camp and towards the abandoned buildings. The two Warlord Prince brothers, Denvar and Bellinar, fumbled with the boxes before nearly dropping them. The Widow's words floating back on the breeze. "I wish to see what there is to this village." Her Craft was able to pull memories from wood and stone and while she was tempted to, Faeril knew it would be a story of horror that would unfold. Xandar would notice something smelling of rot among the buildings and slight movement from the shadows of one of the more intact homes. As the carriage blocked the particular building from the others aside from Faeril herself and two of the Sarothian brothers, no one else would see the form of movement far larger than a rat slip deeper into the shadows.

Gennar hesitated torn between getting Fatima what she needed and following after the widow. "Will you not use Craft?" He snapped after Faeril's retreating form, only to get a dismissive wave in response. "Lady, might I keep an eye on her if you do not need my aid for anything?" Faeril had intoned the Queen's Wil and Gennar just didn't feel right leaving without a dismissal after that. His two brothers both trying to lug the box they had found was filled with the good of a Healer, not camping supplies, back on the carriage and were arguing between each other about who didn't label the boxes.
Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Zoey Boey
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Dareen Kahina

outskirts of the village


Dareen reflexively put a hand up to her hair as Jandar groaned as soon as he saw it. Then she sneered, as if she needed this guys approval for her hair. Long hair could get grabbed in a fight. If someone grabbed her by the hood, it would just slip off. If someone tried to grab her by her regular hair, they probably could with enough effort but by then she would have already stabbed them in the throat because they would essentially have to wrap their meaty paws around her scalp. Not gonna happen. Faeril and Fatima's long luscious locks could get yanked around hard enough that Dareen's neck hurt just thinking about it. Frowning at Jandar, she glanced over at Mikhail.

"Hmm," She hummed, not exactly convinced. Suddenly, Fatima appeared and began scanning her. Dareen instinctively felt defensive, but she couldn't help but be a little amused as this Queen analyzed her up and down. Once again she put a hand up to her hair as Fatima said it looked fine, and she even had a cute idea for it. Once again, she retrated the hand and tried to look impassive. Fatima brought up Dareen's frame, and the mercenary couldn't help but agree. Dareen was far more athletically built than either of the other two women in the group. Hell, she could probably beat Mikhail in an arm wrestling contest. But after a moment, Fatima brought something up that the Pruulish woman hadn't really considered. Dareen had assumed Fatima wasn't involved in this discussion about going into town because she wanted to stay out of town. Dareen looked very intrigued by this option of not having to dress up.

Fatima looked back at her, and, to be honest, it had been a really long time since someone had complemented Dareen on her appearence. A genuine complement, not some brainless, lecherous slur. It was unexpected, and the Pruulish woman wasn't sure how to react. Especially coming from someone as beautiful and elegant as Fatima. A Queen, no less. Perhaps it was just talk, as those of the upper class tended to do, but even so. Surpressing her blush, Daree nodded and glanced around.

"Well- yeah, I mean, if you want to go I don't see why not. I could come with you, or stay. I mean," She sighed briefly, "I suppose I could dress up if it would help us blend in. I mean, shit-" Cutting herself off once again, she summoned a hood and a scarf. Wrapping the hood around her head and the scarf around her mouth and nose, Dareen crossed her arms infront of her chest and furrowed her eyebrows. This combined with the hood and a little forward leaning of her head, Dareen's face was covered and her eyes were cast in shadow.

"If I stand in the corner and look pissed off, I can probably just pass as a man. Or at least no one will bother asking." She stood still for a moment to gauge the others reaction. Shrugging, she pulled the cover off her face.

"Normally I would be saying how I could just go in there as me, but the literal moment I stepped into the last town I was accosted." She laughed. Fortunately her face was still disguised so the others couldn't see the discomfort on her face as she remembered Xandar choking her and tossing her around like a ragdoll. Throwing her arms up into the air, Dareen made a helpless gesture.

"I don't know. I'm rambling. I'll go with whatever. Really." She rolled her shoulders and then took the hood off again, balling it up in her hands and rolling it around between them.
Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by eclecticwitch
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eclecticwitch The Effervescent

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The Queen left his hold and pouted at him. Jandar frowned at her suggestion, narrowing his eyes in disapproval as he listened. He whipped around to Faeril, disbelief colouring his features when he realized she would not do much to oppose Fatima’s reckless suggestion. Fatima herself could hardly believe the words that left Faeril’s lips. She stood in shock, eyes wide and mouth parted as she digested this information. A smile soon hinted on her face only to be turned to a frown by a sound beside her. The sharp inhalation of his breath was heard as Jandar took a moment to gaze at Faeril. She’d even faintly agreed to this utter ridiculousness, for Mother Darkness’s sake!

One of the three brothers asked her something about taking his leave and watching over Faeril. Fatima was distracted by Jandar's obvious displeasure and gave the short response of, "What? Yes. Of course. Whatever you need." It was odd that he asked her this. It wasn't as if he were part of her court and was certainly not used to having her permission asked. It was she who needed to asked permission of them. As evidenced by what was to come next.

With a slow exhalation, Jandar turned back to face Fatima, scowl in place, eyes sparking in anger. Absolutely not,” he hissed out, his censure clear. The Warlord took a moment for a calming breath and two, and though he rolled his shoulders to let the sudden tension that had taken ahold of him dissipate, he could not entirely dispel his frown. Fatima turned more directly toward him, ready to take on this confrontation. She was not about to back down without a fight.

“You were attempting to hide when you arrived in Dhemlan, were you not?” he said, tone much calmer, though he was still intense in his manner as he endeavored to argue against his Lady. “Faeril may have said that an unknown Queen appearing here and now would cause confusion for a while, but that would only be for a short while,” Jandar stressed. You, my Lady, are very likely Terreille’s only decent Queen left, the only one not yet corrupted. Moreover, you possess enviable power,” from the Warlord’s tone and pointed expression, it was apparent that he was referring to her jewel. However, you do not have the influence necessary for a direct approach. You cannot afford to be discovered. You do know what they do to any obstacles, do you not?” Jandar gazed at her harshly, as if daring her to say that the torture, slavery, murder, and plain political manipulation that were not only alluded to but at times plainly paraded across the Realm were something that she could easily avoid or combat should she risk discovery at this point of time.

The Warlord shook his head, sighing. “The purpose of our journey, besides fleeing, was to find Prince Markov’s contacts,” he reminded the Queen. “If we want to build up your influence, we first need a greater number of trustworthy allies. With a group like us, the best we could hope is to harass them here and there,” Jandar waved a dismissive hand, not clarifying who ‘they’ were, as it was fairly self-evident. He brushed both palms through his hair, mussing it up even further – he made a note to himself to wash up before venturing into town as well – as he considered what else to say to convince her.

“Instead of worrying what may happen to Dareen and I due to my lack of knowledge, it would be best if you inform me of Hayll and their ilk as best as you can. I’ve heard enough to gander a guess, but details certainly would be appreciated,” he suggested, head tilting slightly to the side. Then, he straightened, taking on an exemplary posture, one he’d had not much use for this past week or so – straight spine, squared shoulders, chin tilted up just-so, charming smile seemingly falling naturally in place, no hints of stress, tenseness, or discomfort present in his posture. “Besides,” he drawled, tone just the right balance between confident and coaxing, “I was raised as an aristocrat, even if it was in another Realm,” Jandar flashed Fatima a momentarily wider smile, though not quite a grin. “Politics are my playground, deceit a favoured toy,” he bragged, smirking. However, a very subtle cant of his eyebrows – what may be recognized as a very mild frown by someone observant enough – was a sign that he was relying on hope (of all things) that Fatima would be willing to not only listen, but agree and stay back where it was safer.

She listened patiently. At least, as patiently as she could considering she very much did not want to be stuck and left behind again. Every so often she would open her lips as if to respond but her companion had more to say so she would close it and wait. Everyone seemed determined to put her in a little tower and make sure she never saw a hint of blood. Her mind momentarily flashed to the image of Jassen’s broken body upon the stairs. She closed her eyes and breathed it away, coming back to the conversation in time to hear Jandar brag his upbringing.

Fatima sighed slowly as she began to formulate her response. She searched his face a moment before she said, “I was in hiding, in disguise. At that time it did not fit for me to pronounce myself a Queen so clearly. And I was trying to hide from my own Court. I left without the number of people I was supposed to. Just me and Jassen.” She allowed her arms to fall to her sides as she gripped the cloth of her skirts. She would not cry.

“I do know what the Queens will do and have done. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived here my whole life. I may not have much experience in the Courts but I have seen the things done to our people. Seen the things my own mother had done to those who displeased her. I am quite confused by this impression you seem to have of me. As if I am a fragile flower who has only ever basked in sunshine.” She chewed her lower lip and looked to the ground. “I want to help. I want to be of use. I cannot sit aside and allow you all to just put your lives on the line for me without doing anything myself. What would you have me do? Sit beside the campfire and do needle point? You said it yourself, I know about life here. You admitted that you do not. You can attempt to fake it all you like, but slip up on one lie and I do know what they would do to you.”

Jandar’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance as Fatima expressed her concern for him. “If you know, then why be so reckless as to expose yourself at this point in time?” his voice was deepened by frustration, hints of something very akin a growl colouring his speech on occasion. He mussed up his hair some more, frown deepening. “We need to carefully gather allies. The town needs to be scouted for the depths of her influence first,” he insisted, the obvious disgust when he mentioned her a fairly good indication that he was referring to Dorothea.

Jandar shook his head helplessly; it was clear to him he’d managed to offend the Queen somewhat. Though that hadn’t been his intention, it did not ease his reluctance in letting her have her way yet. “You are powerful and of a strong character from what I’ve observed,” he admitted, not so much complimenting her as he was merely stating a fact. “Knowledgeable too, obviously. But you are much too precious to be risked so soon. Like it or not, you are the only one who can and should replace her,” again, it was clear the Warlord was referring to the self-made Hyall Queen. “You will rule - eventually,” he declared. Did Fatima not realize that that was her ultimate purpose, her role, her ‘use’ as she’d put it so crudely?

“But if you just prance into town now and reveal yourself when we are naught but a rag tag group of what could be loosely referred to as allies, what do you think will happen?” Though he’d asked her a question, it was rhetorical. In fact, Jandar was getting rather heated up as he spoke, hand gestures reflecting his agitation.

“You speak of concern for me, but endangering you would be infinitely worse. When she and her ilk find out about a loose Queen, they will move to recruit you. They will find out everything about you; wherever you lived with before, whoever you’ve ever been close to, and they will use us all as leverage against you. If that fails, they will simply wipe us out, all of us. And what easy work they would have of it,” Jandar spat, surprisingly cynical given that he was relying on this self-same group he’d just criticized for success. He inhaled harshly, shoulder rolling backwards, lips twitching in his turmoil.

The Warlord took half-a-minute to regain his usual aloof façade, turning to stare directly at Fatima’s eyes once again. “On the other hand,” he began, voice almost a whisper now, “if they discover me, I can simply reveal to them that I am a self-made Kaeleeran scout, who was trying to investigate our ambassadors’ disappearances on my own terms when my Realm refused an official investigation,” he stated. “It would not even be too far from the truth,” he smirked wryly. “In any case, my individual life and well-being is not nearly as important as your own, and what you represent. I dare say even a group, in this case Dareen and I, would be insignificant losses if your safety could be preserved. Though, others would certainly need to decide for themselves whether they could act in accordance to that belief,” he shrugged.

Jandar sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to give in to vexation and despair as he gazed at Fatima earnestly. “Those things you’ve seen...that even I, a foreigner, have seen...With careful planning, and gradually gathering allies, we may be able to undo them. You will be able to fulfill your duty as a Queen, Darkness willing. So please, let me fulfill my duty as a servant - let me take the risks for you,” the Warlord gazed at her pleadingly.

“I wouldn’t be revealing myself, there are plenty of Queens without land and without a Court. If I am made out to be one of these I would be a far less dangerous creature to them.” She knew this wasn’t going to convince him though. He had already made up his mind on her worth and his. She reached out and gently grabbed his hand, holding it in her two. “Understand this, to me, your loss and the loss of any of the others would not be insignificant. Besides, you’d be with me. And Dareen. I’d be fairly safe. We don’t need to have a grand procession into town. Simple, that is what a Queen of no standing would do.”

She pulled his hand to her face and rested her cheek against his palm. Large, white-gold eyes looked up into his. “Let me help. Let me do something. I have escaped the notice and lived out here in the world for fifty years before my mother caught up to me. I was kept hidden long before that. I am no fool, though I may act it at times,” she offered him a broad grin.

Jandar averted his eyes in response to Fatima’s fatal kindheartedness. She hadn’t addressed his concerns entirely to his satisfactions, but...He trembled, jaw clenching. The moment passed, and he returned his fierce gaze back to her. “Fine,” he bit out, blatantly not completely in agreement. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, his gesture belying his harsh tone. He gently removed his hand from her hold, briefly squeezed her shoulder, then let it fall by his side again.

“Fine,” he reiterated, calmer - resigned. “If you are so certain that the three of us appearing can make sense to the locals and if we will not arouse undue suspicion despite the darkness of your jewels, then go we shall.” The Warlord deferred to the Queen’s will, based on the experience she professed to have, and yet, he still felt as if he was doing something that would only end up in disaster.

“We definitely need to discuss the details of our cover story anew in that case. Specifically, what ties would a couple such as Dareen and I have with a Queen like yourself? Potential benefactors to an up-and-coming Queen, perhaps? Simple family friends?” Jandar wondered, partly honestly considering the issues, partly describing the issue as a challenge to Fatima - to test her claim that she could craft and enact a pretense with ease.

She beamed in response to his acquiescence. She touched her fingers to her lips as her eyes glittered with possibility. "I've found that the best lies are based in truth," she responded, her voice quivering with her glee. "No reason Dareen should be no more than what she is, a fighter. We should discuss the new plan with everyone, that way facts as easy to remember and consistent."

Fatima threw her arms around Jandar's waist, hugging him tightly. "Thank you. For trusting in me." She released him and stepped back. "I should go help the others. I can't just be there for the fun and dangerous stuff. I have to be a part of the boring and dirty stuff too." With that she turned on her heel and walked briskly after the rest of the group.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by 13org
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In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador


Mikhail simply kept silent as Dareen, Jandar and Fatima continued to discuss about a possible plan or disguise in order for them to go to the town. Xandar too had returned from dealing with some of the Viper Rats, but he too choose to not take part in such conversation. Mikhail couldn't blame him though as most of the things that were being discussed, such as dresses, hairstyles and possible reasons for a Queen to be found in the countryside weren't exactly things Mikhail himself was neither interested in nor knowledgeable about. To be honest, even Dareen herself didn't seem to be that keen in discussing much about that kind of stuff.

There was also a conversation between Jandar and Fatima. Even though it had quite a bit of personal emotions included, there were a few things that made Mikhail pay attention in the conversation, for example how Jandar said that Fatima was probably the last 'decent' Queen, her lacking influence despite having an enviable power and especially how she was trying to hide and flee from her own previous court. It appeared to Mikhail that the queen's situation was much more complicated than he had previously thought, but it was fair to assume that Melian probably wouldn't be the one that would love to know their location... Even though Mikhail himself was very wary around Queens in general, Fatima's words did made him raise his eyebrows. Her thoughts about other queens were very... similar to his in some aspects. As she talked about how the other Queens were ruthless and cruel, were exactly the same image he had in his head regarding the Queens he had saw and dealt with. Not only that, but her attitude of wanting to help and not wanting to flee and hide anymore did earn a bit of understanding and respect from Mikhail, even if he didn't voice that out loud.

"Do not worry, Faeril. I always honor a contract I agreed upon. Whatever it may be." Mikhail said with a serious tone as Faeril looked to him, thanking him for his loyalty before apologizing as she said that it would take some time until his healing treatment was resumed.

While his words were a clear indication that he wouldn't betray her, it was also a clear indication on how he saw the relationship he had with Faeril. It was not the loyalty someone would have for a queen. Instead, it was purely based on the 'contract' they had made.

"And yes, it would be fairly simple for me to stay hidden and watch over those who are going to the town." Mikhail said, confirming what Faeril had said to him before she walked away.

Since Fatima apparently didn't want to give Mikhail an order or didn't have anything she wanted to ask him, he walked towards Bellinar and Denvar, in order to ask for their opinion.

"I spoke with Faeril, but she doesn't have anything to ask from me. That said, do you need help protecting Faeril or it would be better if I went to the town to watch over those who are going? As I told Faeril herself, It would be an easy task for me to remain unseen while protecting them." he asked in a low voice, waiting for their reply.
Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Slim Shady
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Xandar Markov


Location: Carriage


Xandar overheard the conversation going on with his Queen and Jandar, and he just let out a sigh as he closed his eyes and gauged the situation. As he had experienced from earlier, when Fatima had something on her mind, there was very little that was going to stop her and get in her way. Even if Jandar or Xandar pleaded with her and tried to force her to stay, what would that accomplish? She was a darker jewel, she could hold her own, and well she wouldn't necessarily be alone. If the Queen was going to rule well she would need to make her own decisions, her own mistakes, and learn from them. There was just some things he couldn't protect her from, as much as he wanted to shelter her. Keeping her from the world would just put her in more danger in the long run.

It seemed the two of them were going to discuss the plan with the rest, and as he saw Mikhail walk over to the two brothers, the Prince walked himself over next to him, not looking on him as his gaze watched Faeril start to walk off. "Look, I know you're back and forth on this one. I think you should go. Your... skills would be best used out on the field, with them. It's much dangerous in town then cooped up here with some rats."

After he had said this, he caught an interesting shadow peeking out from the direction Faeril waswalking too. It was certainly larger than one of those rats, and he had a bad feeling they would have company. He searched a bit to try to get a reading from it, but all he could sense was death, a scent he knew all too well. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. Reaching out a bit more into his search, he almost froze when he sensed a very, very dark force in the direction of the town the other half of the group was heading towards. There was only one man who let off a power that dark.

"I'll make sure Faeril stays safe... you just make sure my Queen comes back in one piece. If you need me, you know where to find me."

Instead of conversing with the rest of the group, he made his way to the Widow, lagging about a few feet behind. He sent a message to her telepathically, not wanting the attention of the rest of the group in their conversation. Things just weren't looking up it seemed.

"Mind if I join you in your stroll? I have something... very urgent that I'd like to discuss with you, concerning a man with a black jewel. I'm sure you can sense him too. Also, on the more immediate matters, I think we might have some company. I'd watch where you're going if I were you.
Hidden 4 yrs ago 4 yrs ago Post by LadyRunic
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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble




In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Interacting with @Slim Shady @13org @Silverpaw @Zoey White @eclecticwitch
Counter of Days: 5 days




Denvar and Bellinar were both amused by the interaction between Jandar and the Grey Jeweled Queen. Discussing bets on who would be coming out on top while the crate they were supposed to be loading back into the carriage lay in the dust forgotten for the time being. It was the older brother, Bellinar, who noticed Mikhail approached as Jandar went on a speech about Fatima protecting herself. Giving a friendly nod to the Dea Al Mon, the Warlord Prince nudged his brother with a shoulder to alert Denvar to their third companion to the group. "That's more of a question for Gen, but you'd probably go keep an eye on the Queen." The man gave a cocky grin. "Jandar is going to have his hands full." Whatever else the Eyrien was about to say was cut off as Xandar spoke up, urging the assassin to do the same. Denvar nodded, chiming in himself. "We got four warriors around Faeril, and the Dhemlan is more of an Aristo sort. They are more squeamish about bloodshed." It was a grossly general statement but it did have a ring of truth to it. Those who were Aristo in Blood society did know how to fight, but against folk who were trained warriors like the brothers three, the Reaper, or the Dea Al Mon it would not be whose blood was bluest who won. "Besides, we can't exactly go into town without every male there acting like we're declaring war." Some of the Eyrien queens liked to let loose their fighters to raid weaker villagers as a display of power, and it was as from a peaceful ribbing.

Gen had caught up to Faeril and the two were finishing a heated if brief argument before the Warlord stomped back. If looks could kill, Faeril would have been one of the demon-dead there and then. "I swear the next time she falls asleep, she's staying that way until we get out of Terreille." Swore the oldest of the brothers. [cplor=FireBrick]"Oh, look at me. I can light a tongue of witchfyre, so of course I'm fine! No need to worries."[/color] Snarled Gen in a false voice that mocked Faeril's own.

"What, did she bite you?" Crooned Bellinar with mocking care as Gen glared at him dangerously. "You know how she is, brother. Give her space. It didn't help that we let that oversized bastard haul her about. Or are you jealous that you've lost his affections to her?" The younger brother barely dodged to the side as Gen took a swinging punch at him. Ignoring the two as the brawl broke out, Denvar shoved the crate into the Coach. Shaking his head at the others to indicate it was nothing to be concerned about. Merely a family squabble that would blow itself in time.

As Xandar followed after Faeril and Sent the thought to her, the Black Widow jolted slightly. Her icy eyes glowering at him as she gave Xandar an annoyed look. "I do mind, but I doubt you'd leave if I ask. In my best interest. Pah!" It was a harsh wording and edged in the bristles of her thoughts, but there was really no heat behind it. Just a mild annoyance from having three such males already hovering and now adding another. "I had almost forgotten Sending. It's been rather dangerous in my predicament to use it. Lest a fallen sister of the Hourglass were to catch my thoughts in her web." The rough edge of the woman's temper sighed and disappeared like smoke on the wind. "I sensed something, but I was not sure it was him. Whatever lies in that town Fatima must choose to face it or not on her own. It is not in our- my power to intervene when the web draws her forth." There was hesitation in the thought as if Faeril was worried she had said too much. Black Widows saw things in their webs and could testily tease an answer out about the future. But they were fierce in their lack of explanation. For revealing too much was a risk to deny the choice that could turn everything rightly or wrongly. Pausing she glanced about her, not seeing the shifting shadow that slunk further away into the darkness of the house as they drew near, but no further. A raspy breathing Xandar could hear and the stink of old blood that floated from the shadows. "What company?" Hissed Faeril out loud, her head snapping about as she sought to sight this hidden intruder.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by eclecticwitch
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eclecticwitch The Effervescent

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Fatima shook her head as if to dash away the argument that had just taken place. She was relieved it had come to a resolution, though perhaps not quite what Jandar had hoped for. She pratically skipped as she closed the few paces between herself and Dareen. "I'm afraid I've been neglectful of you, I am so sorry. I had no intention of pushing you out like that." A frown pulled down the corners of her lips as she reached out he hands to grasp Dareen's. "But I am thrilled to be able to take this trip with you, I do very much want you along with Jandar and I. I can't wait to get you all dressed up in something lovely. Though why you cover so much of yourself...." She paused, considering what she was saying and thinking it could be rude. Her lips pursed and her brows furrowed before she brightened. "Ah, well... Are you more comfortable with some coverings? Are you open to showing a bit of skin? Are there colors you like better than others?"

A her mind swirled with the familiar, silly things - clothes and make-up she had a sudden thought. She opened her mouth as she gasped suddenly and audibly. Her eyes went wide and then a look of mischevious joy fell over her. "I have the most wonderful and grand of ideas. I must speak with Faeril... Oh, how delightful it will be. You and Jandar discuss what you are thinking for your roles. Don't stray too far from your specific thruths. Simplify them, bundle them down to their smallest parts until you can say them in a sentence. From there we begin to build the lies. We have to build a base before applying an illusion." She wiggled her fingers at them before running off in the direction of Faeril and Xandar.

It did not take her too terribly long before she was at Faeril's side. She reached out to grasp the woman's hand. Her cheeks were flushed with her excitement and her eyes sparkled with her self satisfaction. "Faeril, Faeril," she puffed. She looked back toward Xandar a moment and offered him a wide, breathless grin before turning her attention back to Faeril. "Do you think you can make me the ugliest, most foul, and unattractive woman in all of Terrielle?!" It was only now she began to see and read the mood. She took a careful step back and looked toward Xandar again. A spark of fright bringing down the joy she had held moments ago. Her hands fluttered to her stomach and she felt herself inching close to Xandar, her body more than her mind understanding that he was safe. "What is wrong," she whispered, looking between the pair.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Zoey Boey
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Dareen Kahina

outskirts of the village


Dareen had a meek smile on her face as Fatima talked, her hands hanging limply in Fatima's grasp. She was...quite...bubbly, wasn't she? She had listened while Jandar and Fatima had talked- not like there was another room to go too anyway- and hadn't even considered for a moment that she was being pushed out. After all, they knew each other well. Dareen was just tagging along trying to help. Her energy was infectious, but Dareen couldn't help but knit her eyebrows together and look jokingly dismayed when Fatima brought up the matter of skin and covering. To protect from sharp things, she wanted to say wryly. But Fatima perhaps considered this already, or maybe she just thought it was an impolite question to ask. Plus, putting down Fatima wouldn't be very funny, she felt. The Queen before her seemed like a very sensitive person. Though, Dareen thought, I'm one to talk. Who's the one scared of a dress, again? Get over yourself.

"I like...yellow? Blue?" She barely managed, having never really thought about this before. "Skin? I don't- really-" She stammered. Like a v-neck or something? Dareen would die of embarassment, no doubt. Wearing a frilly dress is already uncomfortable enough. Dareen was trying her best, though, not wanting to disappoint.

In only a matter of moments though, Fatima was already off on some other mad crusade and Dareen was left in a cloud of flustered, amused dust. Still, the Queen had left something important to think about- a cover. She had mentioned that Dareen could be a fighter of some kind, though how that would work with a dress was beyond the yellow-jeweled Witch. Perhaps she was in for a makeover regardless of the cover story. Dareen was a terrible liar. She'd never been taught how, really. Within her mercenary core, honor and loyalty were everything, for as much as that was worth. If you were going to stab someone, stab them in the front, not the back. Subterfuge, espionage, social engineering...these were beyond her. Jandar seemed to have a better idea of what they might do. The idea of dressing up as some decently well off foreign merchant and just staying quiet seemed the easiest and safest thing to do. Dareen hadn't done much of anything but keep to herself ever since she left Pruul, and even she attracted attention whever she went.

Blowing air through her lips she put her weight onto one leg and a hand on a hip. After a brief silence of watching Fatima skip away, Dareen said, "...You'd die for her, huh?" Referring to some of the remarks he made earlier. While the words themselves may have been derisive, her tone was one of admiration and sincerity. The way Jandar talked earlier, his goals seemed to be that of Fatima replacing Dorothea. A goal so lofty it might as well have been impossible. As for dying for someone, Dareen had never wanted to do that. She would fight for people, sure, but even the person she respected most in her life doesn't have claim over her life. Evidence by the fact that her commander was weeks walk away and she left without saying goodbye. So the idea of laying one's life down for another was alien and strange. Something for storybooks. Yet from the way Jandar spoke and carried himself, Dareen felt as if he would throw himself on a sword if it meant keeping Fatima safe. Then again, Dareen never was the best judge of character. Clearly...she didn't even know herself.

Hidden 4 yrs ago 4 yrs ago Post by SilverPaw
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Jandar Varan
Ruined town

After his conversation with Fatima, Jandar felt somewhat tired due to the resignation that burdened him. True, the Queen’s thankfulness was just refreshing enough to keep him going, but it couldn’t keep tension from building within him. In his certainty that something would go wrong, quiet dread pooled in his stomach. Sighing and fussing with his hair, Jandar decided he needed to refresh himself. Not only would it help his guise as a rich merchant, it would also lift his mood. Now, if only he had the opportunity to indulge in some whiskey…

Heading to their carriage, Jandar asked the nearest available Eyrien brother for help finding a bucket, a full waterskin, and something to work as a clothesline. With the help of craft, he set the simple rope across their camping grounds, tying one part to their carriage and another to a tree. Then, he set a box next to the bucket, poured water in it and set the empty container aside, stripped down to his underwear, summoned a hand soap, and scrubbed his current clothing by hand. When the matter was done, he set it out to dry.

With a snap of his fingers, he applied a sight shield to himself, and set to washing his beige linen underpants. Then, his own body and hair, using a more luxurious soap than he had for his clothes, as well as a fancy shampoo. Though he was technically streaking, he wasn’t embarrassed – he had set himself to be invisible after all. If someone purposefully broke past his sight shields…well, he’d rather they didn’t, but the result would be on them. Still, he didn’t take more than ten minutes to finish up. He then summoned a fluffy white towel, dried off, then set it to dry on the clothesline.

What would be seen from his activity at the moment would be his footstep, the water dripping down from him and the towel and leaving a trail, and various items moving here and there as he used and moved them. He perched on the box he’d set out again, and got decent. This included clothing himself in a freshly summoned set of underwear, a pair of expensive dark slacks, and a burgundy dress shirt. Finally decent again, he removed the sight shields and set to cleaning his boots. He did have a vanished set of dress shoes, but it would be pointless to wear those when he was to pose as a travelling merchant. So, he wiped the boots and polished them as best as he could. After wiping of his yet-muddy feet and putting on soft cotton black socks, he was finally set to wear the almost shining leather boots. He did so, then summoned his whole backpack, rifling among his belongings for a few odds and ends.

First was a perfume, a sort of subtly heady scent that blended hints of citrus with a sort of woody fragrance that was overall light, but long lasting. A drop to each wrist was enough, which he then held gently to the base of his throat and behind the ear lobes to spread the scent. Next, he found an elegant black-silver cravat, thankfully not wrinkled, and tied it properly around his neck. A dark gray vest came over it, which matched his slacks in color. Then, a black leather jacket, which he put on but left opened at the front, the material of which was worn enough to lend credence to the travelling part of his story, yet obviously also well taken care of. A cherished, serviceable, sensible piece of outwear for a merchant. Lastly, he found the perfect piece of jewelry, a silver brooch that he could lodge his Blood Opal jewel into. When he did, he pinned the jewel-encasing brooch onto the breast of his vest, in plain view. He Vanished the rest of his belongings. As for his hairstyle – not that much could be done with it running just long enough to barely get into a short ponytail – and makeup, he’d need Fatima’s help with.

He stood up, stretched, and noticed Dareen, who’d apparently sought him out. He thought it might have been to discuss her role, but she simply asked him whether he’d be willing to die for Fatima, though it was obviously a rhetorical question. Nonetheless, Jandar turned to her. “Yes,” he confirmed, matter-of-factly. He could have said more, but there was no need to, as far as he was concerned. Quickly moving past the odd moment, the Warlord instead chose to discuss their guises. “Now, as to what role you’d like to play…Fatima suggested you could simply go as a fighter, though if you do, I prefer your idea of trying to pass as a male. If you’d like to attempt it, I believe you could still pass as my wife, but whether you’re capable of acting meek yet naively rich enough is for you to decide,” he commented. “I will act as a merchant, as discussed previously,” he added, just in case it was not clear yet.

“My Uncle is one, after all, and I know enough about business,” he offered. He’d heard Fatima’s suggestions, but really, what she’d said on how best to play a part, he already knew. He had already done so before, in fact. But it was advice that might benefit Dareen. If the warrior woman asked him, he’d advise the male-mercenary role for her. That way, he himself would need not fear to have to compensate for his ‘wife’ in case she did anything too odd. Mercenaries were often looked down upon – which wasn’t bad in this case, as it would allow Dareen to show some of her innate roughness – but their use was nonetheless recognized, and so pretending he was in employ of one would not be at all unusual.
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Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by 13org
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In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador


"I see..." Mikhail replied, nodding as he heard both Xandar and Bellinar's words, considering what they said to him.

Not only their words made a lot of sense, but Mikhail knew very well that both Xandar and the Eyrien brothers knew how to take care of themselves and undoubtedly were able to protect Faeril. In the other hand, Jandar would already have his hands full by acting as a noble, so it would be a good idea to have someone else that could protect them. Knowing Mikhail's skills, there was no one better to keep an eye on them without attracting attention than him since they couldn't just take Xandar or others with them as they would attract a lot of attention.

"I'm counting on you." Mikhail said towards Xandar and the Eyrien brothers with a nod, trusting him with the task of protecting Faeril, before he walked towards Jandar, Fatima and Dareen. When he arrived, their conversation was already finished and Jandar himself was apparently getting back after using a sight shield to take a quick bath and changing his clothes.

The moment he got closer to them though, he saw Fatima going to where Faeril was, before clinging on to Xandar with a rather strange, fearful expression in her face. Despite Fatima's strange reaction, Mikhail continued to where Jandar and Dareen where in order to know their plans.

"It has been decided that I will accompany you to the town. There is no need to be concerned about my presence or even for a possible role for me, as my presence will not be noticed." Mikhail said, approaching Jandar and Dareen.

"I just need to know if the initial plans changed, so I can act accordingly." Mikhail finished, looking to both of them.

Mikhail did hear a bit and knew what they had roughly decided before he went to talk with the Eyrien brothers, but he didn't know if anything had changed from the previous plan where Jandar would act as a wealthy merchant.
Hidden 4 yrs ago 4 yrs ago Post by Slim Shady
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Xandar Markov


Location: Next to Faeril and Fatima, on the outskirts of the buildings


Xandar nodded at Faeril's answer, seeing as though it was meant to be a surprise to those venturing into the town, as Faeril had seen it in her web that they were meant to go there.

While it pained him to let the others walk into... him... it seemed it was out of his control, for interfering with a widow's web was more trouble than he needed in his life. Maybe it just happened to be a coincidence and the black jeweled monster would just pass by. But that was much too hopeful. All he could do was sit around and wait for whatever was going to happen.

That was the part that bothered him the most, knowing that there was nothing he could do, being powerless to the events around him.

His attention peaked when he saw Fatima skip over, talking some kind of nonsense about the ugliest woman in all the land. Xandar chuckled, shaking his head as the two got tense, Faeril now asking aloud what he meant by the intruder. Fatima slowly started backing up into him, also wondering what was going on.

Well, so much for a surprise. That thing definitely knows they spotted it now.

"You know, for the party. We're getting all dressed up now, we should be expecting some company." Xandar said lightly, brushing past Fatima, patting her head.

"Oh don't worry, if you want her to do that for you, all you need to do is wear her clothes. That'll do the trick." He jest, knowing he was likely to get a smack to the back of the head eventually.

He stepped closer towards the shadows, readying a summon for his sword as he quite casually walked towards the shadows where the creature was skulking.

"I'm just going to go for a little walk."
Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by LadyRunic
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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble




In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Interacting with @Slim Shady @13org @Silverpaw [@Zoey White] @eclecticwitch
Counter of Days: 5 days




Gen had helped Jandar find a bucket. Fishing one out of the carriage as well as calling forth his own waterskin and surrendering it for the Dhemlan's frivolous pursuit. It was a very sensible thing to do, and the Warlord had to admit that Jandar did pull off the part of the Aristo with natural ease. Giving a soft chuckle as Dareen asked if Jandar would lay down his life for Fatima, the Eyrien warrior smirked slightly. "Lass, Fatima is the first Queen in centuries that I've seen been so selfless and uncaring of her station. And I'm not sure that's for the best." Though the first part of Gen's statement was praise there was a worried undertone to the rest of it. Fatima's excitable eagerness was indeed refreshing but there was more to being a Queen than raw power and eager joyfulness. The Lady would need to interact with the Aristo and other Queens who would do their utmost to undermind the young woman. The Courts, even at times of peace, could be vicious. Rumors and rivals cutting under the Queen needed to be taken into a firm and cautious hand. Faeril's mother had ruled for a time and she had sent away a good few upstarts when the young woman had tried to tempt away Nivarian's men. "If you are going to go as a man, though." Gen mused in thought as he studied Dareen. "What about her psychic scent? She'd be made quite easily that way and questions could be few or many. There are plenty of reasons for a woman to dress and take work as a man in hopes she wouldn't be noticed. But there are those who would target her because of that. Gen pointed out, reasonably. As Mikhail joined the group, the Warlord stepped to the side to let the Dea Al Mon through. Respectfully letting those actually going on the little foray to speak upon the matter. They were competent folk after all.

Meanwhile, Faeril waved the Grey Jeweled Queen's question away. "Perhaps, but it would be far from my best work. I'm still uncomfortably..." There was a tense and pointed glare at Xandar as the large Warlord Prince commented on her own choice of clothing. "My clothing is perfectly fine!" She hissed after the brute. "As if you had any fashion sense to speak of! Your clothing consists of what is ripped and torn and what is patched and what has yet to see battle." The Widow retorted with annoyance, distracted from what Fatima had asked. Though not their potential guest, as she shooed Fatima back to the group. "Go work out your details and I'll see what I can whip up out of Xandar's skin." Xandar would notice the 'creature' slip behind the wall within the ruined house. Several viper rats that had not been in the nest when he set it ablaze skittering as the mysterious being disturbed them from their hiding place. If he would to look, this wall blocked off what might have been a kitchen at one point. A place that had been warded against fire, and thus protecting it from the flames that had seemed to have taken the rest of the house. A small trapdoor stood open under a table that looked study enough, even if one of the legs seemed eaten through by the vermin.
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It seemed the pair were in their normal state of contention, which lead to the reason for the energy that had surrounded them. Fatima was relieved as Xandar patted the top of her head. How silly she had been, getting worked up over nothing. She let out a small laugh as she watched Xandar’s back before turning to Faeril. “Thank you so very much. I am thrilled to see what we can do.” She reached out to squeeze the woman’s hand before she trotted off back to see Dareen and Jandar.

She approached with a broad smile upon her face. “Faeril is going to help make me the ugliest of women. I figure that, if I look truly horrifying the Queens will feel less threatened by my presence and perhaps understand why I have not shown myself until now. What thoughts had you?”

Jandar patted down his front, removing imaginary lint from his clothes. He looked at Fatima, raising an amused brow. “Sounds feasible to me. As for me, I’m going for the rich, noble Hayllian merchant. I’ll need your help with the makeup and hairstyle, Fatima,” he stated. Smiling slightly, he added, “I do hope my clothing and overall appearance is acceptable, at least.” He then gazed at Dareen thoughtfully. “As Gennar pointed out, I suppose it would be more controversial if she acted as a female pretending to be a male warrior than if she simply presented as a female warrior. In that case, the safer option might still be if she acted as my demure, quiet, shy wife. Or perhaps a servant-girl,” the Warlord shrugged.

Dareen rubbed her chin. It seemed, she thought with mock direness, that her fate was sealed. It would be the safest option to dress up as a non-warrior. Everywhere she went she made waves, and while normally she didn’t mind the accusatory glances cast her way they simply couldn’t afford to draw attention. Not so long ago the idea of even pretending to be someone’s servant or housewife would have been worth unsheathing a hidden blade. But if anyone needed to be knocked down a peg, Dareen thought, it was herself. Besides, she was only alive by the grace of this Black Widow so the least she could do was put on a silly dress.

”I guess so. Like Jandar, I’ll also need just a little bit of help. Just a little. If you don’t mind.” She said, biting her lower lip and smirking. It was one of those situations where it was embarrassing for her, but not humiliating enough for her to not see the humor in the situation. Moreover, it was probably only this funny to Dareen. The Pruulish mercenary was sharing an inside joke with herself, and the joke was at her own expense.

"And a little help with the clothes," she said in a light and teasing tone. "Mostly correct but I suppose some style differences between here and where you are from. Easy enough to fix!" What confused Fatima was their discussion of Dareen being a female warrior as standing out far too much. It wasn't as if a female warrior was all that unusual. Not exactly common but not so rare either. But perhaps it could be a cause for concern to the Queens. She furrowed her brows as she thought.

After a few moments, she lifted her eyes to Dareen. "I will not make you do something that makes you uncomfortable. Also, if you are not used to certain things that will become an obvious fault in our farce. I can attempt to teach you to hold yourself with the grace and pomp beaten into me since I was a little girl. But it takes time." Her face showed her concern. "And I would have to untrain your warrior walk. Do you think you could play the part of a witch who cannot defend herself?"

Dareen shrugged, dismissively waving off the well-placed concern. Even though she knew it was well-placed, the last thing Dareen wanted to do was be a burden, or be useless. But as Fatima went on the ex-mercenary once again deflated. Warrior walk? What was that supposed to mean? Dareen unknowingly crossed her arms and stood up straight as she considered this, proving Fatima’s point even further.

”How hard could it be?” She asked. With that, she awkwardly shuffled into a position she thought was aristocratic. Placing a hand on her hip she leaned her weight onto one leg and cocked her head to the side. Then she made eye contact with Fatima with a look that said ‘You probably have your work cut out for you.’

Fatima giggled and placed her fingers against her lips as she watched the young woman. "Alright, I am absolutely happy to work with you on this. Just an edit to your current disciplined stance. So, are we in agreement? Ugly Queen," she gestured to herself, "The effortlessly handsome aristo… Cousin to the Ugly Queen." She gestured to Jandar, and finally "and his beautiful, brand new wife!" She gestured to Dareen.

“That will be some very distant blood-relation indeed if you will go as someone ugly and I as my handsome self,” Jandar snarked, though half-heartedly; more-so to join the banter than due to any real opposition. “As for the style differences in clothing...well, if you have any way of altering that, it would be perfect,” he added. He did not expressly point out that it was unlikely they would find something better here, but the sentiment was implied in his previous statement.

The Warlord tapped his foot against the floor twice, once again turning to observe Dareen thoughtfully. “Why does our plan gradually grow worse the more we discuss it?” he bemoaned, sighing. It was a serious concern for him; he couldn’t be as easy-going or playful as the two females surrounding him. He rolled both shoulders, grimacing. Nothing about this is simple or easy,” he muttered, staring at the duo. “Difficult or not,” he began, “we are just going to have to do it.” He paused, letting that obvious statement sink into their brains.

“Worst case scenario, we take them by surprise, and slaughter through as many of them as we can,” he hissed, snarling. Soon after, he chuckled a morbid, dark sound. “Just keep in mind that that would surely be a suicidal attack,” he drawled, tone still savage. It was partly an attempt at dark humor, partly a show of his frustration - and also, a warning to Fatima or Dareen that there was real danger where they were planning to tread; just in case they’ve truly forgotten.

Dareen looked at Fatima and wobbled her head from side to side, silently mocking Jandar’s grim attitude. ”He used to be so light-hearted. Sometimes I wonder what happened to the man I married.” She said, shaking her head sadly. Dareen then smiled cheekily. ”I, for one, think our terrible plan is going to work flawlessly. Fatima the Ugly, first of her line, if you think you can turn us, poor vagrants, into nobility, then I trust you.” The Pruulish woman said with faux grandiosity. Cracking her neck and rolling her wrists, Dareen was eager to get started. Anything was better than standing around and waiting for something to happen. If she was going to do this, might as well get it over with.

”I mean, I’m ready to start.”

As Jandar spoke her stomach rolled with nerves. He spoke of slaughtering a town - perhaps as a joke but it told of his state of mind. She frowned and worry for him creased her brow. She reached out a hand and touched the cloth of his shirt before she became distracted with the Pruulish woman's antics.

She laughed with real mirth at Dareen. "Of course, we'll start right away. There is an awful lot to do." She looked up at Jandar, a gentle smile on her face, but the worry had not left her entirely. "Everything is what we make it. I believe in us, we can do this. I know you're worried, but if you let it eat at you, the more you invite doubt, the more likely it manifests." She took his hand in hers and pressed a kiss to the back of it before releasing him. "Be brave and believe in us too."

Jandar exhaled harshly, looking down at Fatima. His frown receded, replaced by a jagged smile. “I won’t show hesitation or worry, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I am certain I will hate those people. But it’s irrelevant,” he replied. He was about to tell her not to concern herself with him, but cut his reply short as he realized how very hypocritical uttering that would be. Instead, he squared his shoulders and braced himself, so that his smile didn’t look all that strained anymore.

“I believe we can prepare well enough,” he added, but left it at that. He couldn’t completely banish his negative emotions, but when it came to it, he could control them and channel them into his act. though he didn’t show it, the Queen holding his hand - and kissing it, of all things - felt more on the side of awkward rather than comforting for him, but Jandar knew the intention behind it, so he could more easily accept it.

Fatima turned her attention back to Dareen and asked, "Can you sew?"

Dareen thought Fatima probably had a better method of soothing the fears of Jandar. She was tactful and socially intelligent. At the question, Dareen was expecting to once again expecting to profess her utter incompetence, but the Pruulish woman was pleasantly surprised at what she was asked. ”Yes, actually.” She said.

”I’m technically a professional tailor, since my- uh, well, the people I traveled with couldn’t. So they paid me.” She stammered a bit. Neither Jandar nor Fatima knew anything of Dareen’s past so she wanted to keep as much of it hidden as possible. For now. It was clear Dareen was about to make another joke but it had sputtered mid-sentence.

”Why do you ask?” Dareen asked quickly.

"Oh that is amazing! We'll need to fix up some of my dresses so that they may fit you." Fatima was aglow with the prospect of proper help on this end. "It will save us time to do it together. More time to teach you high-class lady things." She laughed genially before producing three dresses that she was willing to sacrifice for the cause. "Shall we begin?"

Dareen gave a small shrug. ”Sure- I’m pretty sure I know my measurements.” It had been a little while since she had summoned her sewing kit. ”Thanks for help, again. What about you, Jandar? You sew?” She kneeled down and picked up one of the dresses, holding it up to her neck. It was of course preposterously undersized.

Jandar scrunched his nose. “I do not sew,” he said, the tone of his voice lofty with disdain, though he kept a curious eye on the women as they worked. Dareen looked back at Fatima and frowned haughtily. He observed silently for a few minutes, then suddenly proclaimed, “I will go as Johan Rentrick. You will temporarily share that last name, so get familiarized with it, wife,” he tasted the word as if getting used with it - which he was. The Warlord wondered if he should think of some affectionate terms to call Dareen by. Though, she and the Queen both needed their own aliases first. “Think of a first name that’s similar to your current one, so you won’t get mixed up. Fatima, you too. We need to disguise every possible aspect of our identity.”

”Easy enough,” Dareen commented, sitting on a stone and working her calloused fingers quite dexterously. Fatima chose to sit upon the ground, skirts spread around her as she took scissors to fabric. ”Ranina’s my fake name. Ranina Rentrick. She likes wearing...blue. That’s the one we’re going with, right Fatima?” She asked, holding up the piece of fabric between the needle. With a swoop, she stitched together the seam they had needed to adjust to get it around her shoulders that were much bulkier than the person they were made for.

"Ranina is gorgeous! I love it. And it can be whatever you like! If not is her favorite, perhaps she wears it for her husband." Her tone took on a teasing quality and her eyes glittered with mischief that had lain dormant the last day or so. "I think Helena will be my stage name for this act. Lovely and simple for an ugly girl child."

Dareen smirked and shook her head lightly at Fatima. She’d never done anything for a husband in her life. The Pruulish witch lived the life of a bachelorette. They were making fast progress on the blue dress. Dareen clicked her tongue against her teeth. ”Man- if we go to the tavern I won’t be able to drink any ale. I haven’t had a mug in weeks, either.” She frowned, setting her hands in her lap for a moment.

”Well, fuck it. I don’t need beer. Maybe when all this is over. Well wait, I mean, am I going to have to go out in public like this forever now? How long do we have to keep these disguises up?” After a moment she shook her head, chastising herself a little. Fatima set aside her scissors to pick up needle and thread. Her face barely registered her surprise at the sudden outburst from Dareen. She was used to swearing, it was not as if it offended her ‘delicate sensibilities.’ She had not expected the suddenness of it.

”Guess it doesn’t really matter. We’re enemies of the fuckin’ state.” Now a little more at ease the woman apparently began to slip back into her old swearing habits. While she wasn’t looking forward to the days ahead this was the first time in a long time she had felt comfortable in someone else’s company, if only temporarily.

Jandar rolled his eyes, exasperated and impatient. “We will most likely use these particular guises just for this town, though if they prove effective and are ever needed again, we may as well use them,” he said. With a twist of his lips, he added a growling admonishment, “And for Mother Darkness’s sake, cease your swearing and alcoholic tendencies. The more you resist now, the more likely you are to slip up later. I suggest you practice by seriously adopting your role as soon as possible,” the Warlord directed, cooly watching the witch. He personally didn’t have a problem with her personality, but right now, he saw her as the one least likely able to conform to the role she was supposed to play.

Fatima looked between the two as she felt the tension in the air coil tightly. She chewed her lower lip, wondering if she would need to defuse the situation. Going undercover like this could be very stressful. Lies were difficult to keep up.

Dareen nodded, but then pointed a needle at Jandar only using her fingers. ”Hey,” she began, ”I’m not an alcoholic. I just enjoy a good drink now and then, like anyone. Ranina, on the other hand, she’s a high functioning alcoholic. She keeps it from Johan, though, only drinking when she is alone. It’s eating her up on the inside, but such is the life of a noblewoman.” She stuck her tongue into one of her cheeks and then glanced back down at her dress, making sure everything was going alright. Jandar was right, but he was also starting to get annoying with all his cynicism.

Was that how Dareen saw noblewomen? Despondent alcoholics who pined away their days? Alright... so she wasn't completely wrong and Fatima had to bite her cheek from giggling out loud. A mirthful sound might not be welcomed at this juncture. Taking his advice, though, with a grain of salt, Dareen straightened her back and put her lower lip into a pout. Fatima had to bow her head low over her sewing and her whole body trembling as she fought the urge for laughter.

Jandar raised a doubtful brow, smirking slightly. “And whyever would poor, fragile, beloved Ranina need to resort to her drinks?” he queried, curious if Dareen had put thought in the story or if she was improvising - either could be good, depending on her storytelling and acting ability.

Dareen briefly held a piece of string in her teeth as she maneuvered her needles. Taking it out, she replied, ” The same reason she has enough time to drink it in the first place. Johan is never home. How tragic,” She remarked with faux-glibness. She wasn’t sure if she was actually going to use any of this stuff but it was fun to make things up. Especially to get a reaction out of Jandar, whatever it may be.

The corners of Jandar’s lips twitched, eyes glimmering with humor. “And perhaps I was more observant than my wife has given me credit, which is precisely the reason I decided on this extravagant honeymoon,” he concluded. He lifted both eyebrows and slightly spread out his hands in a mock ‘see, aren’t I so great’ gesture, then cocked his head to the side as he gazed straight into Dareen’s eyes. “We will need to appear casually intimate and used to each other’s presence - nothing scandalous, not to worry. Aristocrats prefer to appear controlled. Nonetheless, it may not be amiss for us to practice walking and sitting next to each other, at the very least,” he suggested. Gazing pointedly at the duo’s dress-up activities, he pointedly added, “Whenever the ladies are finished, of course,” with a drawl.

Dareen raised her eyebrows at Jandar and put a hand to her chest in shock at his thoughtfulness. Then she listened as he made more suggestions. Right. Dareen just had to slip in the role. Who knows how stuck up these nobles were? With even a little bit of failed acting rumors may start to spread like wildfire. Or worse, just straight up seeing through their disguise.

”Very well, my love,” She responded casually, her voice losing some of its inherent roughness. Then she looked between the two people next to her as if to say ‘how was that?’ Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. Though as this dress grew closer and closer to completion the idea of actually putting it on in public became less appealing. Thank Mother Darkness her old comrades couldn’t see her now.

Jandar simply nodded in response, and as he continued to observe her, worked to soften his gaze. For a while, this would be someone he loved. Not just a lover, but a wife. Presumably, also a dear friend. Someone worthy of his attention, and moreover, his protection. Yes, there was also the obvious business benefits, but why not some earnest emotion as well? Mutual loyalty could be quite beneficial after all...The Warlord nodded once again, mostly to himself. Yes, this could work.

Their discourse had turned playful and Fatima relaxed. She was pleased to see them finding humor in the situation. "I'll leave you to finish up the sewing. Jandar, let me fix up your hair and what have you. I'll need you to come down." Standing she brushed the back of her dress to remove any bits of dirt or nature that might have taken purchase there. She approached the man, manifesting a comb in her hand. "Dareen, when you speak your tone should be of unaffected coolness. And soften and quiet your words. Speak as if your words are a cloud. A gift to any who would hear them." As she spoke she demonstrated what she meant. Each word was carefully and lovingly pronounced as if she lined them in gold foil and pearls while they floated delicate and feathery from her mouth.

Dareen shook her head, chuckling a little. ”Yes, of course. Indubitably. You should be lucky to even hear me speak,” She waved her hand dramatically in the air as she talked before bringing it back down to the knitting. Almost done- just the last part before the dress would fit the mercenary. It didn’t look half bad as far as dresses went. Even though the category of clothing known as dresses were a farce to begin with. As far as her voice went, Dareen put on a little bit too much smarminess. Realizing this, she said the same sentence again mimicking Fatima as much as possible. Ranina’s voice was starting to come to life.

Jandar hummed in agreement, and relocated into the carriage, choosing to sit on one of the benches. He really didn’t want to ruin his trousers, after all. He sat patiently, waiting for Fatima to join him and work her magic. She came around to him and began to pull the comb through his locks. Her fingers helped gently release any tangles and her fingernails lightly brushing over his scalp. She manifested a bottle of oil, masculine and earthy in scent. She rubbed some onto her palms before dragging her hands through his hair again. She let the oil sit for a bit in his hair as she began work on editing minor bits to his clothing and began the process of light make-up to his face. She finished off the look by adding some thin braids subtly woven into his hair.

Jandar was still but pliant under Fatima’s touch, letting the Queen turn his head this way and that as she worked. The brief scalp massage was rather pleasant, and it relieved him of some of the tension that had been a near-constant presence since they had begun to plan their venture. Having make-up applied was unpleasant, but it was not nearly the first time he had it done. Fatima was rather proficient with it, he noted. The speed was one thing, and, when he observed himself in a summoned hand-mirror, the quality was excellent. If someone had met him only once before, it was unlikely they would recognize him. The Warlord waited some more for his clothes to be adjusted; it was nothing major the Queen did, but the small details somehow managed to give him an entirely different look. So this is the fashion here, he thought curiously.

Once done, he stood up, admiringly brushing a hand over his apparel. “Thank you,” he acknowledged Fatima’s efforts sincerely. He didn’t just mean the craftsmanship either, but rather her support in general.

”You are most welcome!” The Warlord then stepped back outside, and approached Dareen. Fatima was not far behind him.

Upon seeing Jandar return, nodded her head slowly and elegantly. ”Nonetheless, the plan is I speak as little as possible,” she said, still in her new noble voice. It was pretty hard to talk this way. How did people do this for all their lives?

He gave her a light, graceful bow. “Your new husband, Johan Rentrick, my lady,” he introduced, all smoothly honeyed words, a carelessly light tone. “Yes, you are a reticent one,” he continued, as dignified as he’d begun. He supported the idea that she’d speak as little as possible; as he had when they’d first decided on it. “If finding that desired level of detachment is difficult to do consistently, try and imagine being in an altered state of mind, shall we say,” he winked at Dareen, certain she’d understand - though less sure she would be entirely unoffended by the implication. “Without the pesky speech-slurring and ridiculousness, of course,” he chuckled lightly.

Dareen furrowed her eyebrows, tilted her head to the side and gave Jandar a curious and bemused smile. Then she feigned offense and looked away, down at the dress in front of her. ”I don’t know what you could mean,” She said with a shake of her head. Rising to her feet, she held out the newly modified dress in front of her. With an embarrassed smirk, she glanced over at Fatima. ”So...we gonna do this?” She asked.

"Of course my lady, this way." Fatima gave her best, graceful bow as she made a sweeping gesture toward the carriage.
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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble




In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Counter of Days: 5 days



The entire basement was a mass of dust and ash from the fires that claimed the town above and darker than pitch. Unlike other places worn by time, this dark depression was closed against the light of sun and moon. The rustling of the odd viper rat or other vermin filled the darkness. The ladder that had led down had groaned dangerously under Xandar's weight. A rung going as far as breaking part of the way down. The floor was a mixture of stone and dirt, an unfinished basement or one that had been torn up by the desperate or those smuggling things into or out of town nearby. The footprints scattered about were fresh to the trained eye. Crates and sacks of goods were scattered along the long narrow room giving places for someone to have ducked behind them.

There was a scuffling behind Xandar as Faeril fought her way down the ladder. Her dress snagging on one of the nails that was coming out of the wood. "Why in the name of Hell are you going down here?!" Hissed the Black Widow quietly, and with no small amount of irritation. She had helped the others and seen them off to the nearby town, while Xandar had wrested the table free of the ground which it was nailed to. Thus, being an obstruction to the Warlord Prince. The brothers three had wanted to protest her going down a dark and mysterious hole, but there had been a unanimous decision that so long as Xandar wasn't screaming in pain or Faeril wasn't calling the wrath of Mother Dark then everything was most likely fine. Beyond the witch's complaints, Xandar would hear the hitching of breath and the soft scuffle of feet on the stone floor.




Elsewhere in Eldra ,Shalador



The town of Eldra was elegant in comparison to its neighbor, but there was a bitter chill to the air that had nothing to do with the weather. It was the chill of unwelcome and fear. The psychic scent that was a subtle hint to others of the Blood. There seemed to be a small bit of town that was almost quarantined off from the rest, the sight of those bare fingers with no Jewel gave the reason clear enough. Landens who had been forced to move nearby in order for the local Queen to maintain order. It was far less well maintained than the rest of the town and the people quickly moved out of the way of Fatima and her escort and out of sight. The guards who were keeping the unofficial border looked over the newcomers. Saying nothing but their gazes were variations of interest and wary subtle anger. Newcomers were always a questionable thing after all. Were they spies? Here for the Queen's pleasure? And would that pleasure bring the guards to haul some poor sod forward who had 'insulted' the Queen's guest? They kept their eyes forward, but they did mark the two woman and the Aristo man who passed through and into Eldra.

The streets themselves were kept clean, but the windows to the shops were slightly grimy with dust that hadn't been bothered to be wiped off during the day. It looked to Fatima, Darleen and Mikhail like many other places they had seen in Terreille. People hurried about along the street and tried to avoid looking at these visitors to their 'fair' town. The odd blooms of witchblood sprouting through the cracks in the flagstones. The popular tavern in the town had a few rougher looking men out front, bottles in hand as they talked conspiritorial with themselves. Looking about hesitantly.

"I told you, I saw him go down towards Darla's Red Moon House." Swore one of the men while the others heatedly contested this so-called 'fact'.

"Walst, if that was true then the Queen wouldn't be letting him leave the Manor. Aside, best not talk like that. You know the rumors." There were several other comments both approving and denying. Suggesting that perhaps the individual they spoke of was not so innocent as one would assume.

The street they were following led up past the tavern and several shops for a variety of tailors, a baker, a general store could be seen along with a decrypted looking bookstore and an equally old looking shop that looked like it catered with jewelry. Mikhail could well catch that the group was being followed by the eyes of several people. Namely by one weedy looking man who was far better dressed as he scuttled towards the tavern. The whispering group falling silent as he passed and watched the man pass with disgust obvious on their face as he sneered in return at them. A mutual dislike.

Darleen could very well note that the guards and fighters in town were sub=par. Not the best at their jobs. Typical of towns like this the real fighters would have been snatched up by more powerful Queens or would be kept close to the Queen. Her loyal guards. Yet the undercurrent of nerves in the town led Darleen to pick up on something else. Many of the men in front of the tavern had the balance of people who were expecting or ready to start trouble.

Fatima would sense the strange, unnerving pull that was a lure to her, but there was also a dark power that was just a hint. A thread that wove through the town. Something powerful had been about the streets and recently. It was a pull that could draw one up and through the thin crowds towards the side streets where even less fortunate shops would be. Through crooked and twisting trails into a small antique shop where books were sold. Not books that would acceptable to the local Queens but those that spoke of far more pure times to specific customers.
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