[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/50VBWNfh/63507c917b644ae085a53d695ad43269.png[/img]
[img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/2fa3b68ea7ccb5e241580009fa3f8dfe/tumblr_nrjjdcXvK71uq1wtvo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][h3][b][i][center][color=8519A2]Arc I - Terreille in Trouble[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h3]
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[h3][color=SlateBlue]Winton[/color][/h3]
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The small woman seemed a bit shocked as Xandar identified himself as the 'Reaper'. The name belonged to a dangerous Eyrien warrior who was the second darkest Jewel in the Realm that anyone knew of. It wasn't exactly pleasant that her husband's past was coming back to stalk their doorstep so openly, but Lauran could hardly fault Gerald for that. She had met the Warlord when he had come into the small town, where she was working as a general store clerk, looking for supplies for his band of rogues. It wasn't like those foolish little stories some people wrote where the dashing rogue risked life and limb for the woman who captured his heart. If it had, Lauran would be the first to admit she would have wanted no part in it. Such naive romance was an irritation to her. Instead, they had grown close in their common hatred of the local Queen and she cut him a hefty discount of the goods he paid for. It had been a friendship that had grown to be more, so when Lauran had found herself pregnant with Gerald's child... It had only made sense they slip away from the rogues and Queens to a quiet place where they could keep their head down.

Which had worked, for the most part, they had moved several times when too many questions were asked and finally come to Winton. Here, nothing was asked and the less said the better. Oh, there were honest friendship and Lauran found her neighbors pleasant. Gerald worked on his shops and Lauran did a bit of weaving. It wasn't a rich life, but a happy enough one. Til this great big menace turned up at her doorstep. "Come inside, quickly now." Lest the neighbors see and ask more questions that Lauran cared to answer at the moment. "He's in his shop- Just don't-!" The witch fussed and huffed as she shut the door quickly behind the Eyrien. "Just stay here." She hustled down the hall and through a door. 

Hushed voices could be heard before a small, wiry fellow slipped from the room Lauran had entered. His clothing was stained and a fine layer of sawdust covered his hands and shoes leaving a trail which the witch gave a murderous look at. "Xandar..." Gerald's voice was a raspy thing, something the Eyrien Warrior would be well aware as to why. Captured by a group belonging to a lower circle of guards in a Queen's Court, Gerald had been viciously whipped. His back a mass of scars to show his wounds, and his throat still holding it's own whisper of horror from his screams. Even, if he had been a fighter and a rogue... It had shamed Gerald that he had screamed so, that he had begged, and that was another factor of why he had left the rogue bands. Feeling as though he was too weak to continue the fight with them. "What can I do for you, Prince? I had not thought you to come to such a small village?" His voice had the accent of Chaillot, the Territory of his birth and there was a cultured way about his words that spoke of a higher birth than he would ever admit.

Elsewhere, Faeril gave Mikhail a skeptical look. [color=SlateBlue]"I believe those are traits that apply to all boys or any of that gender of any age."[/color] She pointed out with a fair bit of gentle amusement, something that would not have been common in the Healer-Black Widow before. Gently rolling up the tangled web, she slit it back in the protective tube and studied the door where the boy had been with a critical eye and almost fond smile. [color=SlateBlue]"And your memories must return, even if you do not wish them to. If I miss even the smallest sliver it could start your headaches again and it would be harder to correct. I would prefer to do things right the first time."[/color] Any other time those words would be added with knife sharpness, but now they were a soothing reminder and a gentle denial of what Mikhail desired. Patting the Dea Al Mon's shoulder she sighed almost forlornly. A wanting desire in her as she slid the tube into a small trunk that Gen and Denvar had brought up, with Thom playing the ever 'helpful' watchman.

[color=FireBrick]"A raise, a call."[/color] Gen mumbled dry amusement as he watched Bellinar snarled and laid his hand down. It was his brother's third fold in five games and the aforementioned Eyrien stood up and walked to the bar. Helping Thom get a better grip on the keg the innkeep had given the boy before paying for a tankard himself. Gen chuckled and raised a brow at Denvar. [color=FireBrick]"Will you be folding as well, or do something interesting?"[/color] Gen taunted Denvar. Denvar, who merely shrugged and slid two chips into the pot, shuffling his cards about in his hands. Gen huffed a snort of slight annoyance. It wouldn't have been so bad, but Denvar had a killer poker face when he wanted one. [color=FireBrick]"Call. Heard you all ran into trouble coming into town?"[/color] He had two eights and two threes. It probably was a bad idea, but holding a jack as well promised he could possibly get something. Winking at Fatima, he gestured towards the boy tottering with the keg up the stairs to where Faeril and Mikhail were. [color=FireBrick]"Wonder if Faeril will let the lad go."[/color] He wondered more to himself as he gave a amused sigh. [color=FireBrick]"She likes children, not that she'll admit it."[/color]