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Dragon Force: Quest for the Clutch
Topic Started: September 25, 2011, 7:29 pm (1,982 Views)
Juicesir
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On a cold winter morning in a time before the light
In flames of death's eternal reign we ride towards the fight
When the darkness has fallen down and the times are tough alright
The sound of evil laughter falls around the world tonight

Fighting hard fighting on for the steel through the wastelands evermore
The scattered souls will feel the hell bodies wasted on the shores
On the blackest plains in hell's domain we watch them as they go
In fire and pain now once again we know

So now we fly ever free, we're free before the thunderstorm
On towards the wilderness our quest carries on
Far beyond the sundown, far beyond the moonlight
Deep inside our hearts and all our souls

So far away we wait for the day
For the light source so wasted and gone
We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days
Through the fire and the flames we carry on

As the red day is dawning and the lightning cracks the sky
They'll raise their hands to the heavens above with resentment to their eyes
Running back through the mid morning light there's a burning in my heart
We're banished from a time in a fallen land to a life beyond the stars

In your darkest dreams see to believe our destiny this time
And endlessly we'll all be free tonight

And on the wings of a dream so far beyond reality
All alone in desperation now the time has come
Lost inside you'll never find, lost within my own mind
Day after day this misery must go on

So far away we wait for the day
For the light source so wasted and gone
We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days
Through the fire and the flames we carry on

Now here we stand with their blood on our hands
We fought so hard now can we understand
I'll break the seal of this curse if I possibly can
For freedom of every man

So far away we wait for the day
For the light source so wasted and gone
We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days
Through the fire and the flames we carry on
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Juicesir
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PROLOGUE


Nothing is constant, everything is change.

In the Seventh Age in the land of Aetrus, the end of all Dragonkind loomed close. The poison of age had brought infertility to the Majestic Ones, but in their covetous pride they carried on, uncaring as to the continuance of their kind. This was a time when Dragons were still cared for, still welcomed by the Lesser Peoples of the land. The Dragons saw fit to guard the Lesser Folk from Great Evils, and the love between the different Kinds ran deep.

But nothing is constant. Hate seeped into the care the Folk had once shown to the Greater Kind. A poison, slow and quiet, ran through the veins of united body of all Peoples, and with the close of the Sixth Age the great kingdoms and unity which had been enjoyed for so long collapsed into anarchy.

War raged across the land. The Dragons found themselves divided in their love, their duties to their kingdoms and patronages splitting them in two. The sky erupted into fire and flame, and warriors did battle on the backs of the Dragons. Somewhere within skies over Aetrus in the blood and fire of those ancient times, something more changed. It was a change which no Man in that age could rightly express but which still existed in a way it never had before.

Dragons were no longer viewed as friends, but as others. As means, as machines, as warmounts, as devices used to gain greatness for the Folk who had once called them Brother. The Dragons, in eternal love, gave themselves over to the Lesser Folk, allowing their bodies to be fitted with metals and new killing methods. A new relationship formed, but it was one which some Dragons did not take to.

The Old Ones revolted, and threw off their attempted masters. A greater, far more terrible war swept across every corner of Aetrus. Mountains broke and forests quaked into nothingness. The sky itself seemed to rend in twain. And when the utter destruction finally ceased, there were few left who could stand.

Tired and broken, the Dragons retreated, injured more deeply in their pride than any wound could inflict. But the avarice of the Lesser Folk could not be quenched. They hunted the Old Ones down, chained them to their war-making ways, used their skin and bone as decoration and weapon. They tore asunder their brothers in their greed for glory, and as the Seventh Age dawned, it was apparent that the world would never be the same.

The Majestic Ones, the Greatest of Peoples, were now the Vermin of the Land. It has been many years since earth has known such violence, and an uneasy peace has now settled across the land of Aetrus. The Lesser People consolidate and strengthen their holdings, arming themselves for a war which might break forth at any moment. But until that time, there remains an edged quiet, a hand upon the scabbard. The earth itself has healed, for the most part. In places you may still find the scars of what has come to pass, but it is a new age. An Age of the Lesser, an Age of the Dragonless.

But nothing is constant. And with the world about to break and fold once again upon itself, the future is a place which seems much darker than the past.

There remains a hope, a single whisper you hear the Old Ones speak whenever they are near one another. The Bringer may be coming. None know of where this legend sprang from, but all know of it. The tale of the Dragon's Freedom is a tale to be told over ale and table, however. Few hold true faith in it.

But it is in such a place that we should find the people who bring this fairy tale to life, who fulfill ancient prophecies and change the face of time itself. It is in this place which we find the greatest of heroes, for this story, like any good story, begins in that simplest and most ubiquitous of places: a tavern.
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CHAPTER I: THE LAST FREE DRAGON

Nestled in mountains and evergreens, in a setting so picturesque it could only be out of a dream, sits the quiet town of Babbock. In the Southern Loftring it sits as a jewel, a source of timber, trade, and many strange folk. Founded as one of the main outposts for an old trading empire, it now sits as a neutral town in an otherwise divided land. No king to call to, no army of its own, it is a relic of a bygone age, with people who continue to pass their days much in the same way that they always have. The townsfolk of Babbock number in the several hundreds, making a quiet living with the trees surrounding.

A town of rustic regard, the buildings made of rich oak and stone dredged from the earth, it has an ease about it that can only be obtained with country living. A mill tills the waters of a great mountain stream, high up at the top of the town. There is no true government of the city, but the thing which could pass most for a town hall would have to be the Prancing Friar. An old inn and tavern, it's barrels are always full with the finest of ales and its doors are always open to whatever folk may be passing through the mountain range. It sits squarely upon Babbock's main square, Sufrik Circle. In it's center is a great statue of the town's founder, Sufrik Babbock, who, legend says, built the town with his own two hands. The stone has of course changed over time, but the layout is much the same as it was when Sufrik still walked the streets.

A man of hardy determinism, his spirit can still be felt to permeate the town with its rugged individualism. Several shops are also seated around the Circle, with Miss Penny's Pie Shoppe being a favorite of the locals for tasty homemade treats. The Dowdy Douglas doubles as barbershop and pub, a place for the men to come down still covered in the syrup of the trees to get their sticky hairs trimmed and to talk about the day over a pint. Several tailors, a coin changing shop, a bank, and the post station all also occupy space along the square, with the majority of houses centered around it. No wall sits about the town of Babbock, too hardy to be reached by the likes of armies and terrors.

Yes, the town is a quiet little thing, and life in Babbock can seem dull. But the view is extraordinary. Great forest on the south of the Loftring stretches far beyond miles, and the gentle slopes of the mountains cradle the light of the sinking sun and play it off one another in a way that can't help but make you smile if you look at it.

On this particular night, with the sun just slipping past the peaks along the ridge, we find that our heroes have unwittingly gathered together in this very town. Drawn for different reasons from different places, they nonetheless will all be drawn together, given the proper amount of time and storytelling.

Some come for treasure, plotting about the coin and company they keep. Others for the love of nature and the land. Still others yet seek something they can barely define.

Whatever the cause, and whatever the reason they all have been drawn here, their journey has unknowingly started, and a quest which will carry them across all the land of Aetrus and a story which will be remembered for all times has finally begun.
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Kilon Whurhak stomped into the tavern, grumbling to himself in partial Kedyk. He was not in the mood to care about how any of the patrons would react, either to his appearance or his demeanor. The day of scouting the city for potential loot had been arduous; Kilon already had to bear not having a pint of ale in over two weeks from the long trek from the mountains south with his now not-so-merry not drunk band of brigands.

His three most trusted mercenaries followed close behind Kilon, silent according to their orders. After stomping about halfway across the tavern, he raised his clenched right hand at a right angle to his forearm before releasing it, a sign that they were at ease and allowed to disperse to drink a pint of ale or carouse. This, of course, was what they weren’t supposed to do with their time, but Kilon was sure that if he was smart enough to keep a secret, his followers were as well. Besides, Kilon thought it would be best not to be around them to give them a better chance with the women.

The new promise of power being elected as leader held promise, since he wasn’t good looking. Women loved power, right? At least, all women should learn to love power. If he wanted something, he could take it by force – like the funds neatly placed in this relatively unguarded, peaceful town. He had been working in his rock head on a route and escape plan for the raid, based on what he observed from today. He was only about a third way done, frustrated that their former leader who was actually good at these things died. ‘Nothing ever goes according to plan.’ he said.

You got that right. Kilon thought. He roughly shoved people in his way to make a direct path to the barkeep. Thoughts about death were a good enough excuse to drink his sickly grey face off. He looked at the barkeeper intently, but didn’t say anything for about a half minute, expecting the barkeep would understand he would like a pint of ale without his prompt. The barkeep seemed to be occupied with other customers.

“– a pint!” he roared in Kedyk, slamming his fist down on the counter.
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Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The noise continually played out on his journey to find the items that were ingrained with the magically powers of long ended dragons. For years these same noises had accompanied Rafti on his journey. These noises had never betrayed him seeing as these noises were the steady beats of his own heart. If he closed his eyes Rafti could hear beautiful music with each beat of his heart and it made the journey that much less lonely but even he knew that his actions in life would lead to a constant loneliness. This is why he was on his quest, if he could completely meld with his soul Rafti felt that he might be able to find a place in society as someone normal but is that what he really wanted? It had been many years since he had left his home but his original goal was becoming more and more blurred as he continued to chase rumors.

Before arriving to his newest destination Rafti had met an interesting old man that also carried something he was looking for. A dragon weapon. Sharing a camp for the night with the old man they told each other stories of their travels and Rafti learned many interesting things about the old man. When morning had rolled around the old man was preparing to leave and continue on his own journey but not before giving Rafti a scroll written in a strange language. As Rafti remember it the old man had said the scroll would come in use when the time was needed but when that was Rafti was completely uncertain, either way he had hidden the scroll within his belongings and kept the small bit of information in the back of his mind for when it might come in handy.

Several days passed since the chance meeting and Rafti had finally arrived in the town of Babbock. It was here that Rafti had chased down his newest clue and it was here that he hoped to find the next clue needed on his journey for the dragon items. 'Hope. Want to find next item quickly. Must gather information. Drink,' his thoughts were brief, they were the same thoughts he had thought millions of times before. Taking any more time to think about such things was a waste of his mental capacity and only served as temporary distractions.

After settling in to Babbock Rafti entered the Prancing Friar and made his way to the bar. The crowd was loud and smelled of sweat and many other such stinks that were displeasing to Rafti's nose. He himself smelled none too fresh either but the stink he could smell off the people he passed were worse than he could probably ever produce. Finding an isolated corner of the bar Rafti tried to wave down the barkeep so he might gather information quickly and leave the crowded area. "Drink. Information,' he murmured repeating the phrase glancing at the barkeep periodically.
Dragon Force: Quest for the Clutch: OOC, Character
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Sitting in the darkest corner of the tavern portion of the Prancing Friar, Shail listened intently to the ramblings of the drunkards that were too drunk to know when to stop. With shadows heavily draped over the table he sat at, Shail felt a bit more at ease. His own shadowy figure was somewhat camouflaged, allowing him to be less apparent to the inebriated bar patrons. He was confident, that at first glance, he would be almost invisible to the blurry eyed fools that continually poured intoxicating beverages down their gullets. At the same time, there would be those sober few, who would notice his presence. What would they make of him? Shail didn’t entertain the thought for long. It didn’t matter what others thought of him; so long as they left him alone. He only wanted to listen this eve. There was little need to talk. Nothing could easily be gained from a man composed of darkness engaging in conversation with local alcoholics. Many things could go wrong. Alcohol and fear never mixed well. The last thing Shail wanted or needed was to have a riot on his hands. No, tonight, he would remain in the background.

Having recently encountered another of his kind on his journey through the Southern Loft, Shail learned they shared similar goals; at least for the time being. Applying the principle that ‘two heads are better than one’ Shail ‘teamed up’ with the other for the time being. It was most definitely a cautious partnering, and it would most likely turn out to be a very temporary one as well. Shail never was one to trust someone blindly, especially someone he thought to be potentially dangerous. It was however, better to have powerful allies than to have powerful enemies. The best option, in Shail’s mind however, was to have neither. Friends could become foes, and foes were just that: foes. If one is to simply remove them all, friend and foe alike, there is no one left to worry about. Time would tell if this was the best solution for this situation. For now, he would need the assistance of this newfound “ally.”

Shail had allowed himself to be distracted by his own thoughts. When at last his mind returned to the present, he realized he’d been gone for a bit longer than he’d told his new acquaintance he would be. No matter, she knew where he would be. If he was needed that desperately, he could be found; it wasn’t as if he was hiding. Fading into the background didn’t equal hiding in his opinion, it just meant that he didn’t want to be obvious. It didn’t suit what he needed to accomplish. Regardless, he was once again allowing himself to be whisked away by his thoughts. Only so much drunken babbling could be taken before it became a dull roar that seemed more environmental than anything else.

If anything useful comes of tonight, I’d be amazed. Shail thought to himself, a nagging sensation in his mind that reminded him of the urge to yawn. He was quickly becoming bored. The time spent there had yielded nothing. Shail, having yet another nagging sensation in his mind, reached into his pack at his feet, and pulled out a small dried plant and a small piece of parchment. Placing them on the table, he went about preparing a rolled cigarette-like object he would smoke. Though, much the same as how food wouldn’t nourish him, nor water hydrate him, nor alcohol intoxicate him, smoking this plant would do nothing for him. It was simply habit. Though he could taste it, it would serve no purpose other than to satisfy an urge. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do any of the things he still did. They weren’t needed. Were they really so strong to follow him even in death? Strangely, it seemed they were.

Striking his flint, he lit the rolled herb and took a hit. His smoky gray eyes closed momentarily, trying to remember what it felt like while he was alive. Normally, herbs such as these were smoked in a chiseled stone pipe. A quicker, cheaper method was simply to use spare parchment to roll them. It was true, depending on the parchment, it negatively effected the taste of the herb, it didn’t matter all that much and it was more practical to carry something that wouldn’t break easily; like a stone pipe. Sometimes, if the fresh herb could be obtained, using the leaves themselves to roll the dried herb could bring about a stronger flavor and effect.

As the herb burnt down to his fingers, Shail let it burn until nothing but ash remained in the palm of his hand. Exhaling heavily, his breath dispersed the ashes into the air. He’d wasted enough time, and so it was time to go. Getting to his feet, Shail began to walk away from the table. His black billowy figure mixed with the smoke in the room that listlessly wafted about. Shail intended to walk to the stairs that would lead him to the upper floor of the Prancing Friar where the room he rented earlier was located. He strode casually across the floor, making his way towards the stairs across the room.
 
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The gentle tapping of bare feet skipping daintily down wooden stairs was drowned out by the cacophony of sound ever present at the Prancing Friar. The scraping of oak stools against timbre floors, the setting down of emptied mugs and glasses, the gruff and tipsy laughter between the working-class men. Although unheard, the feminine feet carried their owner into the thin but constant crowd, unheard beneath the comings and goings of the tavern. Singing softly under her breath, Sa’ritae Tyrundil looked about the room she’d entered with playful eyes. Having emerged from the above dorms where she’d been so graciously permitted accommodation – free of charge, for convenient reasons – she was entirely donned for her journey; long flowing garment secretly lined with strong mithril, lovingly carved bow slung over her shoulder, quiver of pink-feathered arrows pressed against her bare back, gorgeous brown hair tied back loosely in a long plait, and no shoes. She was clearly a Summer Elf ready for adventure.

“An empty sky leaves hollowed earth,
Winged kings with unknown worth…”


Smiling warmly at the many men whose faces turned to greet her arrival, Sa’ritae’s cheeks flushed a cherry colour against her pale skin. Feeling her way through the room’s emotions, she made a point to avoid the lustful patches and hugged the cheerful clutches of tipsy men who gathered around tables and ale. The friendly town of Babbock was gloriously enriching for the Svamanirii Elf, who had enjoyed the wholesome nature of the community. She did miss the company of her own kind though; there was nothing quite like the glow of a Summer Elf, and to be sharing energy with each other was a glorious feeling she ached for. But there were higher calls, and greater causes that kept her from home and the company of Elves. She’d searched the land for decades, looking for hope; a tiny flame of hope that she prayed would breathe new life into the world she knew to be dying. Working her way towards the bar – inspired – she glanced down the line, looking for the owner.

“…Fallen, hidden, they drift away,
And with them they took nature’s sway.”


Catching sight of the Master of the Prancing Friar, Sa’ritae called out in a melodious voice that was still speckled with song from her momentary verse. “I’d like to thank you for your generous hospitality, sir. It was more than I could have hoped for,” Smiling coyly with a playful flash of her eyes, she thanked the man with more than just her words. “I’m afraid my stay here has ended and my journey must continue. Though I will miss our lovely time spent together in company,” Her words flowed smoothly, laced with sincerity. She had indeed grown fond of the late-night talks with the man, despite his often tipsy breath and gruff demeanour. And she knew he had grown in turn quite fond of her too, which only increased her liking of the man. “I was wondering if I might call on your help just once more, my lord?” Cocking her head and drawing him in with her eyes, Sa’ritae hoped he could help her with her loneliness in a world of men. “Before I continue my search for peace, I had wondered; have any Elves – Summer Elves, hopefully – passed through town lately…? Surely the owner of the town tavern would know..?” Winking and giggling, Sa-ritae prayed for a yes.
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'You were a happy dream in a life that's been nothing but a hellish nightmare'

Tiffanie 'Lust' Marquisa, the Femme Fatale: OOC
Sa’ritae Tyrundlin, the Mistress of the Earth: OOC
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Shadows filled the upstairs room of the tavern, obscuring the view of any who may deisre to peer inside. Even if it weren’t for the darkenened background, they wouldn’t get very far. The room seemed to be unoccupied, save for the way the blanket was crumpled in a pile on the floor. Blankets were useless against the cold, anymore. Even a close examination would leave anyone completely clueless as to the inhabitant. The figure blended so perfectly with the darkness that it was almost as if they weren’t even there.

Feeling slightly out of place, Ri decided not to join her companion in the loudness that was the tavern. She decided, instead, to suffer in relative silence upstairs, in her room. She sat on the stone-hard bed, leaning with her back to the wall, allowing the rest of the world to move around her. She called shadows to her, whether consciously or not didn’t matter, submerging herself in the comfort that was the darkness.

Time didn’t heal. That was something that she learned very quickly. No matter how many years pass by, nothing changes what she has become. Sure, Ri was always somewhat of an outcast, being a Star Elf was good for that, but she was finally becoming content. She had an ability that all races coveted. She could move things with her mind. She could do things that most only dreamed of doing. Everyone was talking about her. There were rumors that she would even be elected to represent her race at the Gathering. Of course, that wouldn’t be surprising, since there were so few Star Elves as it was, but it was an honor none the less. All that was taken from her, however, upon her death.

If Ri was to be completely truthful, the process began long before her physical death. For quite some time, the young Elf had felt seperated from the others of even her own kind. Some things just didn’t seem to fit together quite right. As she ventured further into what she could do with her mind, her physical body had to race just to keep up. Eventually, it became too much strain on her body, and she simply ceased to exist. At least, that’s what should have happened. The reality, however, was quite different.

Ri’lirr went from being a brilliant elf with astonishing abilities to being one of the most mysterious, and feared creatures; a Shadeling. Suddenly, even the other Star Elves, who had even gone so far as to begin to accept her, turned their back on her. She wasn’t even wanted among the outcasts. Feeling truly alone for the first time since learning of her abilities, Ri ran away from everything that was familiar.

That was a long time ago. Since then, Ri has become slightly more tolerant of social contact, though not by much. She could stand being around people for only the shortest amount of time. Even so, she was easily bothered by the trivial, and in her opinion idiotic, issues of the average being. That was probably why she found herself traveling with Shail. He was a Shadeling, like her, so he understood more than anyone else what she was going through. He could understand what it was like to feel so completely alone in a room of people. At the same time, he was once human. He couldn’t understand the rejection she had felt her entire life.

Thinking of the young man caused her to wonder, briefly, what he was up to. Had he left her alone? She didn’t think he would do that, simply because the chance of running into another Shadeling was slim. Not to mention, if the two of them were together, they could more easily find the information they needed. Then, she could be alive again. She could go back to her studies. She could be important.

With that thought in mind, Ri decided to see if she could find Shail. She stood, her shadowed body more vapor than solid. She made her way across the room, and through the door. She was half down the stairs when she spotted the very man she was looking for. ”How’s things down there?” she asked him, walking up to him.
I'll whisper in your ear,
You are mine, and you will never have to be alone.
And when I pull you near,
You'll know I love you like I never loved anyone.
So let me be the one to lift you up,
I'll carry you home.
'Cause now I'm here to keep you safe,
And to catch you when you fall.
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Juicesir
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Ernest was, in all senses of his name, a very hardworking individual. Innkeeper and proprietor of the Prancing Friar, he had long watched over the comings and goings of its customers. On this specific day there appeared to be an unusual influx of them, however.

The barroom was very full today and he had little time to individually get to each customer. People called out orders hither and thither, and he made his slow and deliberate way behind the bar to each of them in turn. One halfling seemed unable to wait, though the language he used suggested he may be a Skadm. He slammed his fist on the counter, causing nearby mugs to shiver in surprise.

"Ja, ja, hall avn." Yes, yes, hold on. He grumbled at the dwarf and brought him a pint. Such presumptuousness.

Ernest was not a man of any great physical feature. He had the sort of gentle boyhood that often still lingered far into later life for his kind. Unable to grow a beard and yet able to inherit an entire in... It shamed him somewhat that his features were so young, but in all sincerity he did not mind too much. Looking young did come with its own set of perks.

Speaking of those perks, Ernest spotted on her way down the stairs. Passing through the crowds of people like a leaf on the wind was Sa’ritae. She'd provided a wonderful bought of business for the old inn. People had flocked to see the Summer who stayed at the Prancing Friar. And every day the mood seemed brighter. Ernest supposed it must be their magic, but even the business was not the best reason for her being there. Truth be told, he enjoyed her presence more than any he had before.

Though it appeared he would have to adjust to being without that sweet presence again. His gruff smile fell only a fraction as he registered she would be leaving. He sighed and then, as she drew closer to the bar, he turned to allow himself to pick down another pint for a few of the dwarf's compatriots. "Summer elves, eh? You'd be the only one who's come into town lately, my dear. Though, we did have another darker lass take up residence sometime a bit before you came here." He served the men their drinks and turned his full attention to her, a stony look coming over his face as he spoke.

"There've been plenty of strange folk about other than her though. I hear there's some mention of elves taking up residence in the old dwarven mine up past the mill, though few go up that far anymore. It's a bit overgrown, though," he chuckled a bit, "you look more'n able to take care of whatever may be there for you." His smile returned.

"Anyways," he turned again to draw a few more pints out of one of the barrels, "you might give the other elf's here a call. She came in with another shadowy feller. No-questions-asked types. Right shadowy folk, them's be." He served the oncoming patrons their drinks, then turned to her again. "Room 17 on your floor. And please, feel free to come back anytime and stay a spell." He smiled at her.

"Excuse me, m'dear." He turned away from her, though he could have stayed an age at her side. A man had been flagging him down for quite some time. He was garbed strangely and armed even stranger. He appeared to have quite a few weapons made of bone, of recognizable make. Ernest almost tripped over himself, but then regained his composure. He made his way up to the man in the corner. "What'll it be, friend?"
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Ascending the stairs, Shail noticed Ri'lirr descending towards him. It was hard to tell what emotion was displayed on her face. It always was with Shadelings. Their misty forms ever swirling and changing made it hard to display a set emotion. Sometimes it could be apparent by the way they formed themselves a bit differently than normal, more angular, edgy looking in appearance normally meant they were agitated. At least that was something Shail found himself doing without intention when he was angered. Having only meant several other Shadelings, Shail was unsure whether or not he was the only one of his kind to do these things. Though it was a fairly rare occurrence for Shail to lose his cool, sometimes his ever changing form would betray his outward coolness. His body would shift and swirl in a more violent manner when he allowed his thoughts to drift to anger, and thus, his form exuded anger.

“As you’d expect a tavern to be. Nothing too out of the ordinary.” Shail answered her question, his gray eyes focusing downward into Ri’lirr’s. Looking into the eyes of another Shadeling seemed the only thing one could do in conversation. It was too distracting to focus on anything else. Though clearly different than a living being’s eyes, it felt to Shail that they were the only somewhat ‘human’ factor left with their kind. You could read someone’s thoughts to a degree if you paid enough attention. How their eyes fluttered in different directions. How they looked away, avoided eye contact, various movements were linked to certain thought processes; and thus one clever enough could gather quite a bit of information from a person just from their eyes. Shail’s eyes were still as the mirror-like surface of a tranquil lake. He’d purposely over the years made sure to keep his eyes still while talking to others, in an attempt to keep as much about himself, to himself.

Shail couldn’t help but feel some sort of pity for this girl. Sadness seemed to mix with her very being. It twisted around and seemingly melded with her billowy figure. He knew very little of her, but her attitude and appearance alone gave away the fact that she did not previously live a happy life. Then again, it could have been the exact opposite. Perhaps she had such a joyous life, that she was so terribly sad to have died? He was unsure, but it didn’t matter to him. Yet, that pity was still there. It unsettled him that he felt any sort of emotion for an individual other than himself or his wife.

“It might look odd if the two of us stand here talking.” His voice soft, yet still cold. He continued up the stairs, not sure whether she would follow him or not. Not much could be done in either place. To be stuck in a room full of darkness, or to be stuck in a crowded room full of drunk people. Perhaps he would simply slip from his room and take a walk outside? It was past dusk, the sun having settled behind the mountains and trees. The night was a good enough place to retreat. Slipping away into the shadows, wandering through the caress of darkness that enveloped the lands at night. Being part of that darkness almost made Shail feel that he was imbued with more power. To meld with a shadow so large and encompassing, it felt dangerous sometimes. Normally however, he only felt that way if he intended to do something with that darkness. Kill someone, steal something, collect information, etc. Things of that nature. Tonight, if he were to venture out into that darkness, it would simply be to clear his mind. He had no intention or reason to do anything else; not yet.

Hitting the landing, Shail glided across the wooden floor, his footfalls making no sound. He moved with a sense of grandeur; though it was unintentional. His presence had a grace about it that almost made him seem like some form of royalty, though that was misleading to say the least. The only ‘royalty’ he could come close to, would be that of a corrupt diplomat of some sort. Shail was not evil, or even coldhearted per se, he was merely self-centered. That self-centeredness could lead him to doing less than morally just tasks. It was not out of his nature to actually help others however, it only needed to be worth it in his mind. Not to say he wanted something for help, or he expected it, he was just a tactical person. If it benefited the situation, or would do nothing to hinder it, he could extend a hand to assist.

Shail pushed the door to the room open, and made his way inside the room. It was dark. Dark and cold. Though, the coldness didn’t matter. Being deceased, everything about him was cold. From his personality, to his misty form. That was a benefit sometimes. Temperatures never mattered. It could be scorching hot, or freezing cold, and he never really felt difference between them. The signs were obvious. He knew the differences between them, having experienced the temperatures both hot and cold before in life. While others around him would sweat, or shiver, Shail never changed in that sense.

Shail stood in the center of the room, waiting several moments to see whether or not the girl would have followed him back up or not. Had she not, he would most likely just slip out into the night and relax. Should she have returned to the room however, perhaps they could find something to talk about; though it seemed to go against their nature to be much for conversation. Shail could hear the distant murmur of the voices from below the floor in the tavern as he waited. It was impossible to tell what they were saying, he was sure that it was still most likely drunken ramblings full of slurred words and incomprehensible meanings. Regardless, Shail stood in the center of the room, silent, facing the door in anticipation.
 
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As Rafti continued to mutter and motion at the barkeep it was becoming apparent that he was going about this the wrong way. As he begun to change his tactic though a short stout dwarf walked in and began raising a bit of a ruckus over something as simple as booze. Well that's at least what Rafti could tell since the barkeep placed a drink in front of the dwarf to quiet him down. Leaning heavily on his forearms Rafti bowed his head slightly weary from the travel but still he continued to mutter waiting for someone to notice him speaking.

As he waited several things happened around him first was the entrance of a bright looking elf coming down the stairs and making a rather attention grabbing entrance. Her ability to attract the barkeep's immediate attention was something that Rafti wish he was better at but from the way he was dressed and his personality it wasn't something he could just do. Watching the exchange between the duo Rafti continued to mutter his voice slowly growing softer and his throat drying out with each wag of his tongue. If he were another person Rafti might have started a ruckus like the dwarf but that was extremely far from happening so he would just continue to mutter until the barkeep approached.

The next thing he was able to barely notice was that a shadow was moving rather strangely inside the bar. Examining the shadow closely it appeared to be an actual person and not just a shadow that was moving. 'Shadow person. Evil? No. Shadeling. Social? No,' he pondered quickly watching as the Shadeling smoked a rolled cigarette of some kind before making its way up the stairs. It was unique to see a Shadeling in such a crowded area but there was always the possibility so Rafti wouldn't ponder on it for too long.

By the time he had finished watching the Shadeling the barkeep had found his way to Rafti. Cocking his head slightly at the question Rafti ran through the options within his mind. Holding up a finger in exclamation Rafti opened his mouth and replied, "Drink. Sweet. Little to no alcohol. Information. Dragons. Magic Items. Any help is appreciated." Of course the first thing he was able to say was scattered like that it had been several days since he had met the old man and in that time he had reverted into the form of speech that his mind took. Scratching his head slightly Rafti's hand brushed against the horn accessory. The rough texture of the tooth had been covered in some kind of sealant to make it smooth to the touch but the scars on the actual teeth the headgear was made from still remained.

Glancing at the barkeep Rafti wondered if he had said something wrong or maybe he hadn't been able to convey his meaning well enough through such brief responses. Glancing down at the worn bar Rafti slowly went over what he had said in his mind before patching together a more well worded response. "Hello. I would like something sweet to drink. Something with either little or no alcohol in it. I also need information on anything regarding dragons. Not everyday information, but information like rumors of a magical item crafted from the body parts of dragons. Thank you," he said his voice low and shaky.
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Well this was an odd one to be sure."Uh, yes, a Honeywheat brew I think. They make fine ales, they do." He turned to a nearby barrel and began to draw from it something the resembled ambrosia. It was a fancy drink, made more for the maids than the men, but he'd never admit that to a man with dragon teeth strapped to his side. As he drew out the pint, he thought to himself. "Dragons, dragons. Ain't been dragons round these parts for nigh half century. Last of 'em got taken up by some Regency folk a while back for the wars. Nasty bit. My father was one of the last ones who saw one in these parts you know." He kept speaking to distract himself. The ease, the draw, the old timey folk tales were all a distraction for both he and the stranger.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that folk with dragon bone of that variety were not to be trusted. The markings... "Nope, so far as I can tell there's been nothin' but elves up in these parts. Some of'm took up residence not far down the side of the pass. Not sure if that's of a help or not, but seeing as there ain't been much else going on around these parts, you may have better luck with those sorts of folk who are more knowledgeable about such things as magic and whatnot." He passed the man the pint and proceeded to draw another man's order out. After doing so, he turned back to the stranger, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Where're you from then, friend?"
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The barkeep was quick to help Rafti, at least that's what Rafti was thinking. The information that had been supplied wasn't quite helpful, then again when chasing rumors of items of power most information was either false or just folk tales used to inspire children. 'Usual. Elf encampment. Look into,' he thought tapping the tooth his finger was resting on. Making mental notes of what the barkeep said the only thing that was useful after Rafti reviewed it was the Elf location but that might just be something else entirely.

Blinking slightly the smell of honey infiltrated Rafti's nose as the barkeep set the mug in front of him. Lifting the mug Rafti took a short drink, feeling the eyes of the barkeep on him Rafti could guess what the man might be thinking. Setting the mug aside Rafti looked into the barkeep's eyes with a rather solemn stare as if he could read the man's mind. The barkeep's question took Rafti back slightly, where was he from?

If Rafti knew where he was from he surely wouldn't recommend visiting the area. In his culture a home territory was never made known, the only thing he was told was that anywhere an Ildari was could be considered Ildaria. It didn't really matter either though because he could no longer even consider himself a true Ildari. "I am... a taboo breaker. I no longer have a place to consider a homeland. If you're wondering about where I came from before I was know as a Taboo Breaker... I don't know. Ildari culture is vague. We possess no true ownership of the land but we consider anywhere an Ildari might settle as being part of Ildaria. Sorry... I wasn't considered a normal Ildari so I'm not fluent on my history," Rafti murmured in reply glancing from the barkeep to the patrons. It wasn't like it was much of a secret to keep but there were some people that might use this information for a convoluted purpose and Rafti wanted to avoid troublesome situations like that.
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Kilon chugged the ale greedily the instant the pint of ale was placed on the counter, placing the pay on the counter with his left hand. The ale gushed freely over the sides of his mouth, sopping his facial hair. He was feeling better already; the odd sensation of warmth returned to him after weeks of waiting.

As the gears were grinding in his thick rock head, his eyes started to drift aimlessly, honing in on anything worthy of his attention. He found it quickly when Sa’ritae made her entrance. Kilon had been gawking like an idiot like the other drunkards were, but then a boulder tumbled in his mind and he pressed his mouth shut, scowling before returning to what little he had of his first of many drinks.

She’s probably nothing but trouble. Kilon thought, maybe even a sorceress or a witch. Yes, I have slain many witches in the course of my lifetime, and if there’s anything I know for certain— if anything – certain – looks are nothing! They laugh at my big nose; I cut out their throat!


One of the days following tonight, the city would be raided by his mercenary crew, and they would have the funds necessary for food, ale and supplies. Another boulder rolled down the mountaintop in his head.

Wait a second. If I pay the barkeep, and later we raid this wealthy tavern – I’d get my money back! It’s like – it’s like I’m not paying anything at all!


A smile surfaced; the ale was starting to wear off somewhat, but he savoured that feeling.

Kilon overheard the barkeeper in what seemed to be a deep conversation with a young human man, and wished he knew whatever language they were speaking in. Perhaps of one of his mercenaries was close by and at least heard a fragment of it so he could translate for him.

Kilon waved his hand towards the barkeeper, and said in a much more relaxed tone, in Prithvayan this time. “Another pint –“ What was the word? “please.” He could at least offer the barkeep some courtesy; after all, in the next few days he would probably die by his sword. Nothing personal, but I still need the funds.
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Flashing a gracious smile with her cherry-red lips, Sa’ritae reached out and squeezed Ernest’s hand as a final offering of thanks before turning away. She’s felt the subtle sink of a heart when she’d shared her news of departure, and she inwardly promised to return to the delightful little tavern soon. Disappointment didn’t linger for long after hearing no Summer Elves had passed through town. It was a long shot at best. But the small settlement of Elves said to be gathered in an old Dwarven mine along the edges of Babbock had pricked Sa’ritae’s curiosity. Elves and Dwarves did not co-exist well, and it was truly unusual to hear of Elves living underground like moles. Eyes alight with a burning need to investigate, Sa’ritae felt adventure bubbling about through her veins, and she unwittingly spread her excitement to all who lingered in the barroom. Entering the now euphoric crowd, the beautiful Summer Elf floated back towards the stairs she came from, writing music as she sang.

“Trees groan rumours and flowers sing,
Birds whisper secrets on the wing,
And on the breeze I heard them speak,
Of a hiding beast near where I seek…”


Ernest had kindly told Sa’ritae of Elves boarding in the rooms above; they must have only just arrived for she’d seen none of her kin at all since her arrival in Babbock. Almost skipping, her dainty bare feet danced across the room, her brightly coloured gown billowing about like a gypsy skirt. Eyes followed her as she crossed the floor, parting away as if sensing her glowing aura as she neared them. The excitement of Elves nearby and afar in the mines had filled her, and she shared the feeling with those standing nearest to her as she passed. And Sa’ritae didn’t try to stop herself: a happy man was a drinking man, and while the men in the tavern were happy, business would be good for Ernest and she owed him that much. Having filled the four corners of the quaint place with joy and positivity, she reached the stairs and began her dancing ascension to the accommodation above.

“The last to bleed and last to breathe,
There remains one King who did not leave,
Guarding the secrets of a dying world,
Find him I shall –“


Sa’ritae’s voice drowned. A deep, heavy feeling ebbed down the hall that spilled out from the top of the stairs, and Sa’ritae halted at the hearth. Shifting her weight forward on her bare toes, she leaned and cocked her head as if questioning the hall in general. Her playful eyes immediately fell to room 17. Although the door was open, the room was silent and void of the sounds of movement. Not an unusual trait for a room inhabited by Elves, but the silence was not what made the room eerie. The horribly depressed and lonely feelings that swirled about the upstairs rooms could be pin-pointed by the talented and travelled Svamanirii Elf to the room she sought; room 17. “Elves are in there…” it wasn’t really a question, but more a statement of disbelief. “Winter Elves…?” She doubted the answer herself; she’d known Winter Elves and they’d never been so down and gloomy so as to produce auras and emotions like what she was feeling. No, it wasn’t Winter Elves. Sa’ritae had a small idea of what might be inside…

Tip-toeing forward, her silver anklet barely tinkling with her movement, Sa’ritae approached the open room. She’d travelled right across Aetrus - the lands, the mountains, the seas, the forests – and she’d felt these feelings thrice before. Cursed beings, doomed to forever roam the earth, never truly feeling the warmth of summer again. Shadows, they lived like shadows. She’d heard many names for them, but they seemed to prefer one in particular. Peering around the corner and through the doorway, she quietly intruded on the room that had silenced her singing. The two beings – if you could call their existence truly ‘being’ – did look like Elves, and Sa’ritae understood why Ernest had mistaken them for her kin. But they weren’t Elves; no Elf looked quite like this.

“Shadelings… The Moon’s Shadow…
Look, look how they glow…”


“You were Elves once, weren’t you…?” Sa’ritae moved into the doorway so she could be viewed in full; she didn’t want to startle or intimidate the quiet creatures. Brimming herself with positive emotions, she tried to vent some of it off onto the two quiet Shadelings she’d found in the hopes they might speak with her. Not even if Sa’ritae was the most powerful Svamanirii Elf in all of Aetrus could her magic have healed what had happened to the creatures before her. But she hoped perhaps to cheer them in their constant state. In their own way, they were delicate and beautiful; Sa’ritae saw beauty in everything, and Shadelings were no exception. Though she knew little about the private race, she did find their pale and striking shades enchanting. Suddenly it occurred to Sa’ritae: Ernest had said Elves had taken refuge in a Dwarven Mine on the edges of Babbock. What if they were Shadelings also… “Did you come from the mines…? I’m venturing there and I might like some company…” Her cheer was genuine and light-hearted, for she yearned to help and learn from these creatures that were once Elves like she. “My name is Sa’ritae. You were once like me…” Eager to depart, she thought perhaps the two Shadelings might be helpful in the darkness of the Dwarven Mines.
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'You were a happy dream in a life that's been nothing but a hellish nightmare'

Tiffanie 'Lust' Marquisa, the Femme Fatale: OOC
Sa’ritae Tyrundlin, the Mistress of the Earth: OOC
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"An Ildari, eh? We, ya ain't the first to pass these ways, nor are ya the first such taboo breaker. Seems there're a lot of them these days. Right interesting folk." Ernest saw the rowdy dwarf wave over for another pint, and he turned to go. Before he did, however, he thought to mention something to the man. "There's actually an Ildari sentinel round these parts. Guards the forest and whatnot. I see her in here sometimes. Don't rightly know how you folk get along with one another, but," he shrugged, "might be worth a look up. Just thought you should know." With that he turned to, yet again, fetch the thirsty masses their drink.

The dwarf was nicer this time, much more pleasant about the order, and even deigned to speak in a civil tongue. "Alnandar," he said with a bow, and brought the dwarf a pint of something a bit stronger. The fact he spoke Prithvayan was a bit offsetting as most dwarves didn't take the language of the elves to their ears. The stout fellow must be a Skadm then, Ernest wagered. He continued about his barkeeping, wondering what folk like that would be doing this high up in the range at this time of year.

Meanwhile, upstairs with the Summer and the two Shadelings and interesting standoff was occuring between them. The Summer was obviously eavesdropping, but she was doing so in a peculiar manner. At Sa’ritae's desire to emit a more friendly a refined presence, the two Shadelings could phsyically sense whatever unease they might have about her dropping in slipping away. The power to calm was a specialty of the Summers, and while the two Shadelings had yet to know her, they felt much more comfortable with her than the moment they had first seen her. It was as if, in the moments when she arrived and the moment when she smiled, she had become a gentle acquaintance, someone they vaguely knew and felt at ease about. Despite both Shadelings being of a hard nature and despite whatever reservations they had about strangers, the elf's presence was one of calm and peace, and they too could literally feel the warmth her smile and presence brought.

GM Note: From time to time I will step in when someone uses an ability and describe the effect their actions have. Sa’ritae's powers are often very subtle, and so I thought it would be best to describe that both Shadelings did indeed feel her calming magic. You may still both respond however you like, just know that you are doing so to a person you feel some small affinity to now.

As we progress in the story, more of your powers and actions will have greater changes upon those you interact with, and the actions you describe will always have outcomes.
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Rafti had no doubt that he wasn't the only Taboo Breaker around. Interesting, probably was an accurate word to describe people like him, but it wasn't the end all be all of what you might call the Taboo Breakers. Most were just normal Ildari that had fused with their Darima and that was it. Others like Rafti though had fused with their Darima and done some heinous crime among their people. 'Memory. Bad. Distraction,' the rapid fire thoughts plagued Rafti's mind for only seconds before he was listening to the barkeeps next bit of information.

An Ildari was guarding a nearby forest? Strange. It wasn't completely unheard of but usually Ildari only wandered about to work the land where it was needed the most. 'Investigate? No. Only if information is available. Unnecessary,' he thought taking another sip of his drink.

Glancing around quickly the barkeep had gone to help the dwarf again. This time the dwarf was being much more pleasant, well at least the tone of whatever he was saying was kinder. Waiting until the barkeep was finished Rafti waved him back over and asked, "Can you give me specific directions to the elf camp?" It was the best place to start looking considering the history elves had with dragons.
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Still waiting, Shail heard footsteps approaching. He was unsure whether or not it was Ri’lirr until a strange feeling of comfort came over him. Through the door walked a beautiful elven girl, a Summer Elf to be exact. Had Shail not been distracted by the feeling of warmth rushing over him, the woman never would have even got a chance to see him. Had she not had this strange warmness about her, he most likely would have just used the shadows to move behind her and slit her throat on the grounds of intrusion. It was rude, and it was not something someone should do, especially to someone who likes to keep things… Shady. However, against his normal nature, Shail found himself simply standing there, looking at the woman who then began to speak and ask questions.

Hearing the girl speak of the mines, and her seemingly genuine kindness and warmth, Shail began to think of uses for the girl. Unsure whether it was the comfort the Summer Elf brought into the room, or Shail’s own cunning mind, but any anger he held towards the intruder was gone. The calmness that came over him couldn’t eliminate the man’s very nature. He used what was given to him, and if it helped him achieve his goals, he would. Just as how Ri’lirr had become a possible asset, perhaps this new girl could as well. It wasn’t as if she was dead as well, she could possibly become a form of spokesperson for them. Some people were put off by Shadelings. They were frightening and misunderstood to some degree. This girl emitted a warmth that even a cunning self-centered man could admire. Her presence could be useful, if not anything more than bait or a distraction.

Sa’ritae…

“I do not come from the mines, nor am I an Elf.” Shail spoke in honesty, from time to time it was a lonely existence. Rarely did he let that bother him however. Even if his kindness was genuine, his reasons were not. Sometimes, even his motivation in the ‘afterlife’ wavered. Some days, Shail would sometimes forget just how his wife needed him, especially in recent days. Had he become obsessed with finding out more about Shadelings? Had he become so enthralled with the idea of Dragons returning? Perhaps it was that.

Looking to his side, he noticed Ri’lirr was once again in the room. She must have slipped in while I was paying attention to… Sa’ritae. Shail then spoke in a language that would sound strange and broken to the Summer Elf. “Perhaps we can use this girl to our advantage. She seems trustworthy enough, for the time being at least. If she proves otherwise, we could always… Fix that.” He spoke in none other than Jasac, language of the Shadelings. He seemed to be acquiring strange new women by the week now. First, the rarest chance to meet another of his kind, now a strange new woman that exuded kindness and charm.

Looking back to Sa’ritae, Shail moved towards the woman, and stood in front of her; out of the shadows and in the light that spilled in through the doorway. In this light Sa’ritae could see just how tall and intimidating Shail was. “Should my friend agree with me, and you truly wish our company, we can assist you to the mines. I ask only one thing for my service. My companions price is her own.” He paused for a moment, looking down at the woman directly in her enchanting dark brown eyes; his own stormy gray eyes calm and unwavering. “I have no real need for gold, silver, or copper, nor do I have much need for any material possession. I ask only that you are honest with me, and tell me the reason you wish to go to this mine. You must understand, it seems very strange for a beautiful woman such as yourself, to be venturing to a place so seemingly dark and undeserving of your presence.” Once again, Shail’s cunning nature and the woman’s warmth were mixing and making him seem very genuine and kind, her pull on his kindness now greater that he was so close to this stunning woman.

Shail had once been a handsome man. Dark skinned and muscled finely, his height and build made him quite desirable. Though his body was no longer the same, his presence and air remained much the same. He carried himself with confidence that boasted him to have a grand presence that demanded attention. Normally it was due in part to intimidation, but with this strangely enchanting woman, she had brought back some of his former charm and politeness. She was almost intoxicating. Being this close to her made Shail feel almost alive again, it could be quite addicting; dangerously so. The strange pull he felt was distracting and entertaining. Should she accept his offer, and be honest with him, the time spent with her would be most interesting.
 
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Ri blinked a few times, looking at Shail. She heard what he was saying, but she wasn't really paying attention. It didn't matter. None of it really did. It was the same as everythng else. No matter how much she tried to convince herself to care about what was going on with everyone else. It just wasn’t her style. She was a solitary creature, not even quite used to being around the other Shadeling. She followed the other Shadeling up to the room, entering just before the other Elf.


“You were Elves once, weren’t you” the voice asked. Ra looked up, and spotted the soft fetures of the Summer Elf. “You were once like me…” the voice, Sa’ritae, finished. Ri sighed, yet waited until her companion paused in speaking to reply. ”Yes, I was once an Elf. But, no. I was never like you.” she stated. Her voice was as cold as her entire being, though she wasn’t trying to be harsh. It was at that point that she found that she didn’t hold any sort of ill feeling toward the elf.


Finding herself growing even more relaxed, she continued, ”Everyone loves you, welcomes you. They never did so for me.” Ri added. ”Before I became the way I am, I was a Star Elf, something you couldn’t understand, Summer.” she called Sa’ritae that more out of respect than anything else. For the first time, she realized that part of her really wished that she was like the other. Loved by everyone. She knew that it wasn’t her lifestyle, that she would get annoyed quite easily by it, but there was a part of her who wanted to be accepted. That was what made her ability so special. People were starting to want her.


Ri didn’t say a whole lot. It was odd for her to speak in the language that was once so familiar. It had been quite some time since she had spoken Prithvayan, and it was strangely welcoming. She loved the sound of the language as it rolled off the tongue. She didn’t really know why she was noticing the language differences, she wasn’t usually much for talking to people in general.


After a moment’s pause, she realized that she hadn’t even introduced herself yet. ”I am Ri'lirr; Ri.” she stated, introducing herself. She then turned to Shail, and shifted into Jasac. ”I agree. She would be much more knowledgeable about what has been going on in the Elven world.” what she didn’t say was that it would be nice to talk with another of her former race again.


Not unlike her companion, Ri found herself stepping out from the shadows toward Sa’ritae. ”I, also, would welcome you on our journey, and ask only that you would share news from the Elven lands.” she commented. She could feel herself being pulled out of the depression and sadness that had for so long been all she knew, and becoming more of the child she had once been, all those years ago, before that night that changed everything.
I'll whisper in your ear,
You are mine, and you will never have to be alone.
And when I pull you near,
You'll know I love you like I never loved anyone.
So let me be the one to lift you up,
I'll carry you home.
'Cause now I'm here to keep you safe,
And to catch you when you fall.
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Stopped again by the Ildari breaker. Lots of questions with this one, but it was a rather welcome change of pace from other customers. Usually all people wanted was to get drunk. It was always refreshing to converse. "Well, so far as I can say specifically is they're holed up past the old mill in an old abandoned dwarven mine. I hear they're Autumns. Not rightly sure what they're doing up in a dwarf mine, but mind you," Ernest got a stern look about his face, "they're Autumns. Anything goes with them folk. So who knows what they're up to." He spoke it with reverence as much as distrust.

Elves were a strange kind, and their doings were out of the world of so many it was difficult to grasp. But Ernest had a better idea than many the lengths they go to, and he was not at all please by their presence. "Can I do you for anything else, friend?"
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Patting himself down Rafti was making sure everything was where it should be. The flame sac of that he had procured a year or so ago was hidden within the pack on his back. The scroll he had been gifted with was also hidden away within the pack still so aside from other common items everything was in check. Reaching into the pockets of his coat Rafti's fingers touched a cool metal that was inscribed with the seal of the territory he was in. He was ready to leave when the barkeep finished answering his question and having the payment ready could make getting to his destination faster.

Finishing off his mug of sweet ale Rafti was glad that the barkeep was actually nice and helping him. Listening patiently while the man gave him the specific directions Rafti gave a last glance around the bar before determining he needed nothing else. "No I should be good from here on out. What do I owe you," he replied quietly.
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Intrigued by the Shadelings, Sa’ritae didn’t have the strength to step away from them or pull back from her curiosity. They spoke in turn, their voices as hollow as their forms, and as they each stepped out into the light the summer Elf was startled by the beautiful way the shadows seemed to dance straight through their forms. In particularly the taller male who hadn’t spoken his name was both intimidating and handsome in the same swirl of shadow. The petite girl who seemed just as aggressive at first with silvery hair waterfalling down her form was also startlingly pretty, though Sa’ritae knew that speaking those sincere thoughts would seem like pity from her – a Summer Elf. While the tall and built man stood over her, shifting strangely close, Sa’ritae could feel him feeding off her empathetic magic. A charming smile crept to her lips and her eyes flashed playfully at the Shadeling’s unusual attraction to her positive vibes. His own aura emitted kindness and sincerity which only made Sa’ritae gladder they were willing to accept her companionship.

The smaller, fragile looking Shadeling who’d introduced herself as Ri’lirr – Ri – was just as interesting. Star Elves were rare and respected beings, at least in Sa’ritae’s eyes, and it was too plain on the ancient girl’s face that she ached for the life she once held. As if to confirm the wish, Ri requested news of the Elves and their happenings. Her Prithvayan was slightly hesitant at first, but she soon moved into a fluidity that Sa’ritae could understand clearly. They both had their own conditions for helping, and shared them after communicating in a strange and broken language she could not recognise. Eyebrow peaking momentarily, the beautiful Elf wondered what they could possibly be communicating. If they intended her harm, she was somewhat confident in her abilities to protect herself, but she doubted they were plotting her harm. She knew, without shame, that she was quite charming at times, and if they’d wanted to be rid of her they would have tried already. Her positive energies were working, and Sa’ritae found herself smiling at the small joy she’d brought to the two misunderstood creatures before her.

“Ri,” Sa’ritae bowed her head down momentarily, dipping her knees slightly into a dainty curtsey. “It would be my pleasure to assist a Star Elf. I hope perhaps you can share your story with me one day. There’s nothing quite as magical as a story!” Flashing white teeth and cheeks flushing rosy red, Sa’ritae brightened and her aura flooded over the quiet Shadeling to reassure her of good intentions. The Elves were a very private people, not commonly mixing with the other creatures. Ri was a Shadeling now – body and soul so to speak – and it was largely frowned upon to share the happenings of the Elves. But Sa’ritae was eager to learn more about the Shadeling’s and their story. As all Summer Elves, she understood nature, balance and the flow of life better than most, and how every being had a place in the world. Shadelings had no place in common myth, song or dance, and Sa’ritae only just managed to contain her excitement at perhaps learning more about these scarce beings. They, like the Kings that were her quarry, were necessary for a sustained and living earth. Besides, she was once an Elf after all.

Flicking her eyes back up to the larger Shadeling, she smiled sweetly, radiating enchantment. “M’lord, I do not yet know your name…” She played, but did not push – not wanting to startle the quiet creatures. To prove her honesty and sincerity, she responded in the most pure form a Summer Elf might reply with. As the words passed over her lips, she back slowly to the hall, clinging to the door frame playfully for a moment and continuing out into the open space.
“It’s, strange you say, for a Summer Elf,
To venture where dwarfs had once drawn wealth,
But more than rock may lie down below,
Resting, hiding, in the dark and shadow.
Gathering in the abandoned cave,
My kin have turned dear Babbock grave.”

Falling out of verse briefly, she gave a carefree smile and explained herself. “A visit with my cousins; I miss the company of Elves. Though I hear they are causing trouble for Babbock, and I hope to perhaps help by speaking some Prithvayan sense with them.” Her voice turned slightly sombre as she sang a final verse, as she wondered if the subject of her search was of interest to the Shadelings too.
“But greater quarries I may seek,
Down where the old mine-tunnels creak,
Who knows what treasures are hidden in the deep,
Quiet Kings, perhaps, trapped in sleep?”


Having agreed to Ri’s request, and explained herself whole-heartedly to the taller figure, she hoped they would follow, and she radiated happiness to coax them on their way. Something about her had stopped the Shadelings from reacting badly at her arrival, and she hoped whatever it was about her healing presence that they enjoyed most would be enough to urge them to follow her down the stairs and to the outskirts of Babbock; to the mines. Enjoying for herself the warmth of giving something small and positive to people who had spent years without it, Sa’ritae half-danced on her dainty bare feet from room 17.
Edited by Jei Ai, September 28, 2011, 4:53 am.
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'You were a happy dream in a life that's been nothing but a hellish nightmare'

Tiffanie 'Lust' Marquisa, the Femme Fatale: OOC
Sa’ritae Tyrundlin, the Mistress of the Earth: OOC
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Answering Shail in poetry, the beautiful elven maiden spoke with words as warm and kind sounding as the feelings she herself radiated. Shail was lured more and more as she explained her reasons. The mention of ‘quiet kings’ piqued his interest even more. Could it be that she knew what rested in that mine? Could she have somehow found out what waited there? It was possible. Shail held hope she was oblivious, but alas, he could not shake the feeling of that possibility. It didn’t matter right now though, all that mattered was following this ravishing image of feminine perfection to the mines.

Shail watched her gracefully and playfully leave the room, her warmth compelling him to follow. The further she got away, the weaker the emotions got. For some reason, Shail needed to stay close to her for now. That feeling of life now drove him to pursue her. He wanted to feel alive again. The immortality of being a Shadeling, with the warmth of life from a woman such as herself. That, and that alone could be prize enough, and reason enough. At least until these charming effects wore off or got old. Shail did not see that happening any time soon. She was like a drug, a sweet, distracting, destructive drug.

Following her from the room, Shail nearly forgot about Ri’lirr. Without stopping or looking back, Shail asked a simple question in Jasac. “Are you coming?”

Shail walked through the door and into the hallway, leaving the other Shadeling alone in the darkness. Following after the enticing enchantress slowly leaving them behind, Shail did not hasten his pace, instead he simply followed her down the steps to the landing on the ground floor. His form was soft and somewhat wispy in appearance, that of clouds listlessly drifting across calm blue skies. It showed just how comfortable and relaxed he truly was at the moment.

Why are you following this woman? A voice in Shail’s mind sounded. Am I not good enough for you? The feminine voice sounded once again. Did you forget about me so easily Shail? The third time the voice sounded, Shail knew exactly whose voice it was that was beckoning him to answer. It was the voice of his wife. It seemed that somehow, through the warmth and pleasure, a guilty conscious surfaced in the form of his slumbering wife. It had been over five years since Shail last heard the voice of his wife. It seemed so long ago, her voice was but a distant memory fading more and more each day. Her soft sweet tone did not sound judgmental, only hurt and betrayed. Shail knew that it was impossible for it to actually be his wife, it was simply his mind playing tricks on him in an attempt to ground his thinking once more.

“No, I haven’t forgotten you… Veloren.“ Speaking in Jasac, Shail muttered to himself, sadness slipping into his voice. That moment, all the warmth and happiness Sa’ritae brought about, was undone in one thought. “No.” He continued, his pace slowing momentarily as he spoke to himself still in Jasac. “I know what I must do, nothing, not even this intriguing woman will stop me.” Shail looked over his shoulder to see if Ri’lirr had joined them yet. She was more vital to his plan than this newcomer. He could not afford to lose her assistance yet. Sa’ritae wasn’t as needed. No matter how she was wanted or could be used, everything was figured out beforehand without her. She was expendable, and yet, he found it hard to pry his attention from her. It was becoming very difficult.

Pausing for several moments, for what would have been a living being taking several deep breaths, Shail cleared his mind as best he could and continued following Sa’Ritae. With a bit more clarity present, his mind returned to the true reason of going to the Dwarven mine. Not to escort a frail looking Summer Elf, not to partner with another Shadeling. Not to do anything other than acquire what he needed. What was vital to the success of his goals.

I will find it, and I will find a way…

Newfound confidence, Shail put it to the test. Approaching Sa’ritae, he spoke to her in what little Prithvayan he knew and what he’d learned from Ri’lirr. “I‘m sorry for being rude. I forgot to tell you my name. It is Shail Aldir. It was when I was living. I‘ve grown use to not telling anyone. No one cares know the name of a dead man.” With that shoddy butchered interpretation of her beautiful language, he allowed the Elven woman to once again lead, falling behind her several feet. Shail wanted to allow himself enough room to attempt to keep a clear mind. He’d learned now, the closer you were to this woman, the less control you had over yourself. While it was hard to want to be a cynical and cold person, not knowing or feeling warmth, it was dangerous to lose control of yourself; from now on, he’d do his best to avoid it. Shail was certain it would be hard, however, and there would be times he wouldn’t want to. Perhaps he would indulge in her presence, but he could not allow her to control his emotions again.
 
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"25 copper is the usual, but for you, friend," he came a bit closer to the man after having served another, "it's 20." A light smile played around his face as he said this.

He did this for two reasons. Firstly, the man was somewhat of a mess, and the best way to deal with a mess was to be clean and straight. No turns, no tricks. Ease it along. The second was, a bit contradictory to the prior, that he liked the man. There was something particularly strong about him, and along with not wanting to get on the wrong end of that sword, Ernest liked people.

The barkeep moved on about his business, carrying out the rest of the servings and helping the other customers. But as he moved away a new presence approached the Ildari breaker. A man, clad in simple garb, walked up to the bar to sit beside Rafti. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about the man in any way. Had he been passed on the street not a single look would have been shared. He was a man from the crowd, clean shaven, raven black hair, a local by all means and looks. He signaled the barkeep for a drink, and took a sip. In every possible way this man was the pinnacle of normalcy, and yet the first words out of his mouth to the young Ildari were anything but extraordinary.

He finished his sip and, leaning a little closer to the Ildari without looking at him, he said in a hushed voice, "I know where a dragon is held." The stranger took another sip, still leaning and whispering close enough so that only Rafti would hear, but looking to all others as if he was not engaged in any conversation. He took another swig, allowing his words to seep into the Ildari and then spoke again. "If you wish to see it, follow."

Without any other words spared the man paid, stood up, and walked towards the entrance, his green traveler's cloak rustling with the movement. He walked slow enough so that he could hear as to whether the Ildari would follow, but fast enough so that his actions would not arouse suspicion from anyone.
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Paying close attention to the barkeep as he named the price Rafti began to remove one of the two gold coins he had within his pocket. As the barkeep leaned closer Rafti became slightly uncomfortable, people didn't lean in close to him normally even when they were giving him good news like a lower price on a drink. Placing the coin in the barkeeper's hand Rafti took the change and left a ten silver tip for the barkeep as thanks for the information.

As he was getting ready to leave a rather extremely normal man approached Rafti and whispered something no one but Rafti, the barkeeper and maybe one or two of the nearby patrons should know he wanted information about. 'Former acquaintance? No. Associate of former information dealer? Unlikely. Information source? Probably. Caution? Needed,' he thought judging the man with the single sentence he had said.

This man knew where a dragon was and he was taking his sweet time drinking a beverage and not just taking Raft there? Wait why did Rafti even care where a dragon was? The few dragons he had come across in his travels were all broken spirited and weapons for the humans or research subjects for the elves. They couldn't use their magics on him as he wished so there was never any point to dealing with them. Items with magic imbued into them were easier because the magic required no convincing to use. 'Will follow. For now,' he thought watching the man pay for his drink and turn about for the door.

Taking one last second to bid the barkeeper farewell and saying a word of thanks Rafti would probably never return to this bar. Taking long strides to catch up with the normal man it occurred to Rafti that if he weren't careful he might lose the man in the crowd of townspeople. He was just that normal. "Spy? Eavesdropping? Former associate? Strange that you knew what I was looking for," he murmured loud enough just so the man would hear him.

Giving the man a once over it was rather remarkable how normal he was. Black hair, travelers cloak, normal face. Nothing stood out about him, maybe that's why he was a spy or whatever he was. Infiltration was always easiest if you didn't stand out and this man was probably the pinnacle of not standing out. 'Too normal. Might have to have him leave a trail of breadcrumbs so I don't lose him,' Rafti thought keeping close tabs on the man yet looking ahead expectantly hoping that what he was going to be shown was a dragon that had yet to have its will broken. 'Closer. So much closer now. My form will soon be perfect,' he thought becoming slightly confused as to why he might say that instead of his art becoming perfect. 'Losing self to the power? No. Brief lapse in memory,' he quickly corrected within his mind.
Dragon Force: Quest for the Clutch: OOC, Character
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