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Shienvien
Dark Jack
ASDAValueMilk
“My name is Olan, and my group – Aemoten, Thaler and Jaelnec – are trying to end the Withering, you know? And yeah, we’re going to the city, but I’ll warn you that we’ve had the worst luck... I mean, we’ve learned a few things about the plague, but only in-between fighting demons, monsters, cultists and gods, you know?”
Angora chuckled and roused herself slowly and painfully from the ground, walking over to where she had dropped her sword in the fight and taking hold of it once more. She felt a surge of power emanate from her hand and cracked a small smile, testing the weight of the sword in her hand and nodding to herself - yes, the Black Blade was just as she could dimly remember before her... she struggled to find the right word to describe it to herself. Exorcism? That'd do. She sheathed it in the tattered leather scabbard that hung at her waist and made her way back to Olan and his two curious companions that weren't off in the corner, probably wondering what the hell the others were doing not killing her for her troubles. "Well..." she began with a grin, "If that's really the case and your run of bad luck continues, even more reason to bring me along, huh? You know I can fight, so what's one more sword-arm to help you reach Zerul? Besides... life debts aren't easily repaid, you know." She cracked her back in several places with audible noises; noises that made Iridiel cringe and mutter "Could you not do that..." in Eireann under her breath, but loud enough for Angora to hear. Not quite understanding the words, but understanding all too clearly their context, Angora bowed her head slightly. "Sorry." She looked around at the copse in which they stood - and then shivered slightly as the wind bit at her face and hands. "Strange, never really noticed the cold before now... must have been the spirit's doing. Maybe it doesn't know what temperature is, maybe it just insulated me from the cold, I don't know. Eugh... too many questions, not enough answers. I guess they can wait until we're back at Zerul. Might go and visit my brother at the college to see what he can make of it."
The green man spoke up again, in his strange, harsh-sounding accent that missed out a few too many letters for it to be Rodorian, that's for sure. "Can ye tell 'em tae put ou' the blas'ed ... aura or influence or wha's it?"
Angora frowned, missing the point of the question entirely at first. Eh? Aura? It took her a few moments to realise what the gods the man was talking about - it took her actually speaking out loud for her brain to finally catch up. "Aura... oh, right! Aura! Hold on, let me see if I can do something about it... I should be able to get rid of any side effects it'll have on people, though I don't really know if I can remove it *completely*. Let me try something." Cocking her head to one side, she closed her eyes a moment and concentrated on trying to draw the energy that was being given off back into herself. It took a few moments, but eventually the aura began to fade, until there was little more than a slight buzz about her that was about as noticeable as a small fly buzzing about a room. Giggling and smiling, she turned to the assembled trio and gave a triumphant beam to the three. "Ta-da! How's that feel?" She hoped that would be enough for now - maybe it might even give the other two the impression that she wasn't some demon from the hells that was given mortal form, or whatever it was they thought she was. But more importantly, it showed she had almost complete control over the spirit within her, as the painted woman had tried to accomplish. The sword, meanwhile, began to glow softly, though Angora herself didn't notice it.
"I'm Domhnall, and this is Iridiel, by the way."
Introductions! Of course, where were her manners? Just because she was a foul-smelling sweat-stained semi-savage with a seriously bad hair day (and a very empty stomach, it seemed, judging by the pangs of hunger), didn't mean that she could forget her own introductions! Besides... with the right word in the ear, she could be useful even in Zerul. "Well... well met, Olan, Iridiel, Domhnall." She bowed, her matted hair obscuring her face briefly before she swatted it out of the way, if only so it wouldn't get in her mouth. She most certainly did not want to know what greasy hair tasted like. "My name, as you know, is Angora. Angora Kelenwyn, daughter of Erik and Iora, younger sister to Reikard, Yvann and elder to Karl. My father is a metalworker in the city, who works with rare and precious metals, whilst my mother... well, she, ahem, works for the nobility, if you get my meaning." She winked and gave a smile. "And she has sticky fingers whilst she's there... As for my brothers... Yvann is in the City Guard, whilst last I heard, Reikard was a sergeant-at-arms in His Royal Stuck-Upness the Duke's armies. My younger brother Karl is at the College. All fine and noble jobs, I'm sure you'd agree... My own line of work, I'll confess, was not strictly legal. Ask me about it if you're interested. Maybe over dinner, which I'm sure some of us could do with..." Mmm. The prospect of food excited her, and it seemed to meet with approval from Iridiel, who spoke up in her own strange accent, though her Rodorian seemed much more hesitant than her companion's. "Food an' a wash sound nice."
"If ye really wan' tae go with 'em ... or come with us, as it migh' be, I'd think you need tae talk tae the tall warrior-looking fellow when ye ge' the chance, he's the leader of the lot, they said."
Domhnall's accent (not to mention his skin colour) was intriguing - it was one that she had never heard before in all her travels. It seemed to be that of a far-off land, one perhaps not visited even by the furthest explorers. It would definitely explain both his voice and his skin... splotches of green and brown, and yet he retained human-esque features such as hair - a curious assortment of facial hair included - and skin that appeared soft and human to the touch. She resisted the urge to pry and poke at it to see if it was scaly or really just like her own, only a different colour. His statement worried her, however. From all accounts, both the tall warrior and the one he was with had not long been at her throat threatening to kill her... She would really rather try and compel these three to take her along with them rather than try and leave it in the hands of the tall warrior. She could feel the rage in his veins previously, he looked as though he had no qualms gutting her like a fish. Completely understandable, given the circumstances, but really, was she going to take her chances with him? No thank you, sir. "With all due respect, I don't think I'm in his good books at the present time... maybe after we've eaten, I don't look like a beggar who's spent a week in a sewage ditch, set up a campfire or something, and talked things over, we can come to an arrangement, but at the moment... Let's find that there spring I was talking about before, aye?"
Iridiel nodded, having partially understood what Angora was saying. "Food and water - good idea." she piped up, before turning to Domhnall with a sly smirk on her face. "I think she's talking about the wrong man over there, Domhnall... Might want to correct her on that one."
