Now this was it, [i]this[/i] was [b]it[/b]! 

By the Gods this was where the Elven figure wished to be - for though he had been abroad in the Empire for just over a year now, Karuhar had seen very little of the larger cities, consigning himself to the closer study of and possible death at the hands of rural dullards and their ilk; Ubersreik, Basdahl, Eslohe, Rottfurt... all ill-made shanty towns and hovels in comparison to Altdorf, Marienburg and now Nuln.

Nuln had been called 'the Bastion of the South', a beautiful city of human inventors and weaponsmiths. True, like the entire Empire of Man this now smog-shrouded and seemingly eternally wet territory had once been part of the High Elven civilisation, but as the scholar-mage strolled casually through the busy and cramped streets of Altdorfs largest economic and military rival he could not help but allow himself a smile at how the mayflies of humanity had (poorly and with oh so little finesse) made the place their own.

Now, one might believe that an Elf mage being spattered with grime, soaked by rain, and spat close by by many more superstitious citizens - for although his kindred were not precisely rare within Nuln, Dwarfs and other men were far more common - would make a rather meagre sight for the eyes... and that would be just so!

Fortunately for this Elf, and for the pristine white and sea-blue clothing he wore, he could simply admire the sights, smells and sounds of Nuln from behind the bodily-encompassing bubble of unseeable magic that he had produced about himself, the only evidence for such a feat being a tiny spatter and shimmer of air when a raindrop deigned to fall upon him.

Eyes glared at him, mouths gawked at him, and hushed words reached his pointed ears as he sauntered down the streets toward the appointed tavern but he simply ignored them with all the haughtiness of a being that would outlive even the children passing by and pointing at him as innocents will do.

[I]Interesting,[/i] he thought to himself as he neared the inn with a [i]click-clack[/i] of his staff on the cobbled street, [i]oh so very interesting![/i]

Had he not been keeping his composure, he could have clapped his hands together and touched everything within reach, for that was why he had come to the Old World in the first place with his fellow students of the Tower.

Now he was alone, and about to embark upon something much different than simple anthropology.


[hr]


"Agniezka Voorman."

The rather ugly barmaid looked Karuhar up and down, clearly unimpressed after having seen so many other potential candidates, one arm pointing to a set of stairs. It was clear that although agents were usually taken down the stairs, this haggard creature did not like the cut of his personality or looks after only two words.

Karuhar gave the slightest incline of his head, swept his blackened gaze over the strangely empty establishment, and then almost glided toward the indicated stairway.

For others it would no doubt of looked just like any other stairway, the corridors, ramps, ladders and so forth were lit up like an Imperial festival to one of his profession - whoever had woven the illusions in this location were skilled, very much so, and the Asur couldn't help brushing a slender and manicured hand over the wall as he turned another corner and then another that would [i]appear[/i] to be the same corner but was not.

[I]What fascination, what fun![/i]

By the time Karuhar entered the room where the three other persons of interest now sat together - in what seemed like silence for the moment - the mage was, for an Elf anyway, in quite a fine mood. He was no longer scowling at everything, eyeing everything down his nose, or even producing that ever-present air of stoic calm that seemed to irritate other races so much.

The large man and the even larger Bretonnian drew quick looks from him, but it was the third figure that took up most of his interest. This man, for he was human in spite of the 'feeling' surrounding him, was somehow different to the others, different enough for Karuhar to narrow his eyes a fraction and take a seat not far from him even as Hugo gestured for the High Elf to take a seat.

Take a seat he did in customary Elvish style, with a sweep of his hand and a touch of backside to seat so gentle that it seemed as if he had drifted down to it on a breeze, his back as straight as a well-forged blade, and his staff apparently holding itself upright next to him.

No food or drink he asked for, but through his mind a million things made their way, so it had been for him and always would be.