LadyRunic — Roleplayer Guild

Ayita Dyrkin

Location Xavier's Institue - Outskirts of New York
{"Grrreat."}

This was not ideal in Ayita's opinion as she slipped into the garage. The door thankfully was open, a good thing as tigers lacked hands. Paws never worked well with a doorknob. She had gotten the mental 'for your information' from the professor. Another misson, which was undoubtedly about the recent Magneto issue. Something that was a unseeable threat. Unable to fight it hand to hand, claw to claw or fang to fang. For the first time Ayita wished she had something else in her arsenal. Something to drive away the phantoms of the air that she could not see. Perhaps her deeper animal instincts could sense it? She was unsure and worried about loosing herself to the feral state were she to sink so low into herself and the creature. Amber eyes blinked slowly as she took in the gathered audience, peering around the door for a moment to assess who all was gathered.

Giving a rumbling chuff of essentially a 'hello'. The tiger-instinct was not pleased with the number of people, nor was Ayita. But such was the way of things and changing back... Both human and beast shuddered. It had hurt to shift. Not more than any other time to form bones not used to being shaped, but still. The less she did of that the better off she would be. Stepping with a slow grace she moved with the up most caution. Her ears flat to her skull as she stalked the shadows of the room. Stepping close to Damon, the tiger managed a apologetic look as she brushed against his leg. Rare contact from the shifter. Selecting a seat next to Allison, she crossed her forepaws as she flicked a ear. Till she got up the nerve to shift again, she was stuck. Ayita grumbled in a growl. She hated being stuck in a form. But to keep human form was torture for her. Like a skin that felt too tight, bare and useless. Though thumbs and a working vocal system was nice, she much rather she not need that.

The tiger wondered if anyone had any food, and Ayita twitched her tail in impatience. Perhaps she could hunt where ever they went. A good deer or Elk... Perhaps a bear? The tiger liked the sound of that. A fight and food. Fun and feast.

Faeril Ashkevron

Location: Hayll

It was rather amusing how people feared a Widow, yet they were desperately sought out to fix the ailment that a mere Healer could not. Theirs was a tedious balance of living and dying. Hers more than most, or so thought the Eyrian female. A taller Hayllian male slithered along beside her, casting a worried glance about himself. The poor dear was terrified she'd finally decide he was worth more to her as a plaything than his money. A fool's notion. Faeril could well remember the male appearing on her doorstep, wringing his hands in desperation as he pleaded with her to come aid his son. A cracked skull from a fall that had been easily healed by another, yet the poor lad's mind had been set on its ear. It had been a easy job and the male had readily agreed to her outrageous rates. A sly smile cold as the frost in the mountains tugged at her lips. The man's fear was well placed. Neither she nor her protector shared any love and a deep emenity towards the Hayllian race. Thus her rates and the fact the male was to buy her a good meal before seeing her home.

The two mismatched pair wandered with the crowd, the male steering them towards a decent tavern. With a stiff pint of ale to fortify himself against his own possible doom. He had talked to several friends of a friend's friend to find her and had known full well that his little opal would not be fair game against her. Poor man, Fae almost pitties him. Boring a slight curve in the crowd, hard eyes noticed the reason as well. Another male filled with rage enough her Healer bit sought to soothe it. But a firm grip on herself shook that notion from her. Saroth was not here to play protector and thus chasing down random folk to berate or mend was out of the question. Yet she felt herself moving a cursed herself soundly in Eyrian. One hand easing about the elbow of the taller male. Her employer gave a protest, but her voice sheathed in ice paused him. "You paid your due for my services, and I have little need for your guidance." Her eyes turned to shards of ice as the Hayllian male quailed and turned tail. Giving a slight smirk she turned her gaze upon her victim. For all essentials her 'help' often was a rock slide that bulldozed any in it's way and while it did leave greener pastures... People often were too stunned to appreciate it for a good second or two. Giving him a steady look, her took his hand in her other one and was off. Will or nil what this poor chap wanted.

Bodily steering the powerful and anger ridden male through the streets, she tossed her gaze about before selecting a likely looking tavern and began to essentially tug boat him in that direction. Her voice softened slightly. Taking the no-nonsense, soft voice she used on the patients needing a gentler touch."Now come along, you look half craze and about ready to snap. Do so on me and you won't like what happens. I give as good as I get- worse some say." She admitted the last part rather with a tad bit of bland disbelief over that fact in her voice. But it was what Gen and many others had told her so where was the lies in what was plainly said. 

Gen Saroth

Location:  Doun, Askavi

Gone. Gen Saroth gave a ugly snarl as he flung the wood to the side of the cabin he shared with Faeril Ashkevron. A Healer, and reckless fool as far as he was concerned. He could not smell her in the house, nor hear her pacing feet. His brow grew even more furrowed as he entered their home to find a note on the kitchen table. With a massive hand he picked it up gently. Afraid to tear the fragile words. But that only lasted for a moment, for in the next second the note was torn in two. Then three.

Swearing in as many Eyrian and Common phrases as he knew, he stormed to his room. Gone! Faeril, the fool, had gone to Hayll! To Hayll! He well knew the cruelity that could be found there and was not particularly keen on it when he first sampled it. Nor was he keen about the female he had sworn to protect being a victim of it. Oh, but he knew why she had left the note. Knew why she had willingly gone. Those thoughts alone cooled his fire and made him pause. Just as she knew he would. There was a loud thunk as his head slammed against the cottage's wall.

He couldn't go after her. Not to Hayll, he didn't have much of a temper. But Gen knew very well if he went to Hayll he'd be coming back with a war, wanted, or waste for Hell. None of those three things boded any good for him and worse for his companion and friend. Were it the first two? She would fight and claw her way along side him. Loyal to the end. Were it the latter? It would be her end. Well did Gen remember the night when his lover had tried to kill him. It was only Fae being Fae that saved him then. That allowed them to learn from Gen's lover who had sent him and then to track the woman down. Fae had been vicious and brutal. Not allowing the threat to exist. He still felt sick at what she had done, but knew deep inside it was right. That the witch and her little man would have done worse to get Gen. To keep him as their pet.

He sat down heavily on the couch. Watching the sky for several long minutes before strapping on his sword and dagger and plucking his bow from the wall. At least he could keep a eye on the Hayll border by hunting. At least he could do that.

Ravyn Ghosteye

Location: Hyall

This was not a good situation decided Ravyn Ghosteye. Hayll was not a place to be to procure the needed sparklies to survive in her home city of Dharo. Kicking her legs back and forth from her perch on a barrel, the worn black boots scuffing the wood with a steady knock. Her trousers were equally worn and patched. Dusty from her scuffle through the alleys of the city. The worn land was not nice like the other places, and the people here harsher. No, it was not a overly nice place to be for a thief. Aye, a thief. That is what she was at the end of the day. Pulling her prized winter cap low over her eyes and the youthful face frowned as she watched the people walk back and forth. Pulling her knee up to her chest, she wrapped her arms about said appendage and laid her chin on top. There wasn't much she could do here, but the alleys were rife with materials she could use. Someone's refuse was another person's treasure. Giving a small smile, her golden eyes gleaming in amusement. Then again, other people's treasure would be hers too. She was the Procurer after all.

A disturbance in the crowd caught her attention. People moving away from someone, like they had the plague. It was odd, they hadn't don't this before. Her head came up slightly as she noticed a tawny golden male. Who looked like he was ready to commit murder. She had seen that look before in the taverns and pubs, the rougher parts of the cities. Moving the the quick stealthiness of a feral ally-cat (Which she slightly was) she followed him from the shadows. Curious despite of knowing better. Nothing good came from men who were angry or anyone who was angry. Not to mention people were to be cautious about. She bit her lip in irritation. She was utterly vulnerable and Rav hated it. Her mother had perished years prior and left her alone. With no father and no real 'male' friends of her mother's to look to for aid. Not that she would look towards Jariah. He was a nice guy but his wife was incredibly jealous and hated her mother deeply for some reason. Pulling the collar of her worn coat up about her to help shield her face she continued to dog the man's steps from the alleys. Brushing a pale hand across her cheek she wiped away the soot she used to color her hair. Making it a darker grey to match with the Hayllians. Perhaps this man lived some where near? Angry people were not to be met up front and bad to pick the pockets of. But they were a mite careless with their homes and might leave a door unlock or leave a valuable out. Risky, Rav cautioned herself. It would be risky, but her curiosity warred agianst it. Reasoning that someone who looked like that probably had something at least! Or perhaps she could get some news, words sold better than gold sometimes. Angry folk talked loud and let others know their problems. Perhaps he would be the same. Her hand fisted about her messenger bag, as she slipped across streets. Perhaps-es and maybes were things Rav based her life on. Hopefully this one would pan out and make her trip worth it.

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