Most of the minstrel's afternoon had been spent wandering the city, thinking. It was a rare day, for he stayed on the ground and walked the streets. He watched the people. He listened absently to conversations of the weather, of well-being, and other daily occurrences. His mood remained a mix of uncertainty and hope throughout.

He had passed by the Stitch, but he didn't go inside. There was a smile on his lips when he saw the building, though it only remained for a brief time. In the Marketplace, the minstrel did not stick out at all. Performers were a common sight, after all, especially in that area. The world around him became a blur. He could hear voices, see people, but they were unrecognizable. His hands rested in his pockets as he unconsciously weaved his way through the crowd.

He went south from the Marketplace. His mind was lost, even while his body continued on. Recent events had nearly driven the minstrel to the point of insanity. His attack on Lydia and Jay was what caused it all. He still didn't know what had made Jay become so violent against Poppy. All he really remembered was the rage, the wolf whispering to him, seeking a chance to be unleashed. Many times, that time included, he tried to fight it. It had always been futile. He would fight and the wolf would press its will upon him. It was then he would change. And, he had.

The guilt he had felt for attacking Lydia was tremendous. She had done nothing to deserve it. And Jay? He hadn't either. Despite the fact he had hurt Poppy, it would have been hypocritical to blame him for what had happened. The minstrel shook his head, as recollections continued to pour into his mind.

All of the hunters. He had never seen so many converge at once. After the attacks, he avoided his home. Avoided those whom he treasured the most. He had done his very best to keep that sort of attention on himself and only on himself. He had succeeded, as far as he knew. He bore a scar from those two weeks of running. One across his right leg. He was lucky he hadn't died. It was a clear picture, the day Poppy found him sitting at the fountain in the market. His strength had been nonexistent. Pale, exhausted, but he did not seek any sort of refuge. His sister had taken him in. He refused to risk Ayly or Lyric because of his actions.

With rest came only more problems. He had managed to make the danger pass, but that was not uncommon. The aftermath was what he had been worried about, and rightly so. The days before the full moon he saw a familiar desperation and hopelessness in Jay and Lydia that he himself had experienced well over a decade ago. Guilt was all he could really feel. His heart left him open to nothing else. The way Lydia had seemed to shun him then, it had hurt. It was just like always, the same circle repeated itself over and over again. It had happened many times throughout his life.

Happiness would come and then the wolf would reveal itself. People were hurt, some even killed. He would run. There was little else to do. No one ever understood. Usually, it was because they refused to. Hatred was an emotion that had long been the minstrel's companion. For his father, at himself from outside sources and within, for the things he had done. Forgiveness had never been something he was truly gifted with.

Even with Ayly, the amount of stress had been too much. Not much had been discussed, but his absence had weighed upon her, of that he was certain. Lyric, as well. His poor daughter. "Where is Daddy? Why isn't he home? Is he okay?" Questions that had been repeated to him in less than cautious tones. It still stung to think about. Stung to think about that same little girl crying when her family was pulled apart. His fists clenched reflexively. He had never wanted any of it to happen, but wishing things to be so was no solution at all.

He withdrew a great deal, when Ayly and Lyric were gone. Hardly spoke to anyone, hardly did anything. He focused on dueling. Proving to himself that he didn't need anyone became his goal. Fortunately, perhaps, that goal was unattainable. He found solace in only two people. Poppy had been there for him the entire time. His sister held nothing against him, as far as he could tell. She stayed with him. It was true she had needed a place to live, but really, her presence had been just as much a benefit for Soerl.

He paused in his walking for a moment. He could see the museum nearby. Soon, his steps continued.

When he turned to look at the woman again, she was already rushing at him. Her silver katar thrusting forward, meant to claim the minstrel's life. His right arm snapped his broadsword up and deflected the attack away with little time to spare.

The deflection caused the katar to slide away and across his arm. He felt the metal slice him open. The pain was so intense that he immediately screamed. The dagger that had been buried in his shoulder was nothing compared to a cut from silver. His arm felt like it had been bathed in fire, despite the fact that the actual cut was not very serious. All he could focus on was the burning.

His eyes snapped open. His right arm seared in pain, but it was immediately gone. Had he imagined it? The soreness returned fairly quickly. He sat up in the bed and cradled his injured limb for a moment. Emerald eyes fell upon Lydia for a moment. He didn't intend to disturb her. He could feel the sweat on his forehead as he put his feet to the floor and stood up.

While he wasn't wearing a shirt, he felt no need to put one on. He left Lydia's bedroom and the house itself. He didn't venture very far, however. Once he was out it the moonlight, he looked at his right arm. The wrapping around it was slowly peeled away. It still looked terrible. Discolored, bruised, though the cut had begun to seal up. Injuries from silver took far longer for his body to repair and they always left a scar. His right hand was lifted, with a wince, and his fingers trailed across the sizable scar on his chest.

That one had hurt the most, when he'd gotten it. It felt like his soul burned from the inside out. The memory made him frown a little. His gaze was lifted to the sky not long afterward. Less than a week and the moon would be full. He could tell by looking at it. His injured arm was lowered, slowly, back to his side. His mind fell to the conversation he and Lydia had in the cemetary.

It was his fault she had killed that man. She was protecting herself and him. She had saved his life. He had no doubt of that. Was this all there was? The same cycle repeated itself over and over. He shook his head. No, that wasn't quite true. Certain things had, for sure, but links in the chain were weakening. Lydia had shown him that and more than once.

He lifted his left hand and stared at it for a moment. Claws slowly appeared where fingertips were only seconds ago. There had to be a way to stop the violence, the pain, the worry... for everyone. He would never be rid of his curse, he knew that. However, there had to be something that could be done. He lowered his hand. He turned back toward the house. It wasn't long before he was lying next to the green haired elf once again.

His happiness, himself... they were worth saving.

A rather short fellow was the one that approached the elf and minstrel. He grinned pleasantly at the both of them. Soerl figured he was a halfling, since he was quite a bit shorter than Lydia. "Well, well, a bard and a pretty little elf. Haven't had an easy time in a while." The other three began to approach behind the halfling. "If you would just hand over your valuables, we might let you go on your way." The halfling kept on grinning. The rest of his entourage included two humans, one male and one female, and a male elf.

Lydia lifted her gaze from the halfling to the others, taking them in. It wasn't the best situation to be in, being outnumbered. Especially by opponents she wasn't familiar with. Did any have magic? What weaponry did they have at their disposal? And in spite of all this, the elf couldn't help herself. "I'm not sure I'm the little one here..." She mumbled, having heard what the halfling said about her. It likely didn't help the situation at all.

The minstrel didn't seem very nervous at all. In fact, he grinned a little when he heard Lydia. The halfling didn't seem very amused. His face got red rather quickly. "You get to die fir---" He was cut off. The back of Soerl's left hand collided with the halfling's cheek. It sent him clear over the railing of the bridge. A loud splash could be heard moments afterward. The other three immediately sprung into action. The humans both drew swords. The elf didn't draw a weapon, but visible energy began to distort the area around him.

She winced as the halfling was hit - she was certain it hadn't felt pleasant for him. She couldn't quite make herself feel bad, however, given his threat, and the fact the other three were resorting to violence. All considered, she was confident of Soerl's abilities against the two humans, but she knew the elf could prove troublesome. Gripping her staff tighter, she started forward, angling around the humans and towards the elf, pale blues aglow. The Ring of Klytus she wore on her right hand also gave an eerie glow.

"Time for a bit of exercise it seems." The minstrel unshouldered his pack and set it down on the bridge. As the pair of humans moved to try and cut Lydia off from the elf, Soerl got in the way. "You're gonna pay for what you did to Gess." Despite his harsh words, the human fellow seemed a little hesitant to engage the minstrel. "Is that so?" Moving faster than a human should have been able to, Soerl lashed out with the flat of his blade. The woman quickly interceded and blocked the strike.

The energy around the male elf grew stronger still, and Lydia could feel it. Twisting her lips, she dropped her staff to the ground before holding her hands up to gather her own energy. "Halito!" A small fireball shot out towards the male, aiming for his calves. With a smooth gesture, he waved his hand, seemingly snuffing the flames out as if they were nothing. "...what?" She took a step back as he prepared to counter with magic of his own.

Soerl had to focus on his opponents. Even if they were bandits, the minstrel wouldn't underestimate them to the degree of not paying attention. As the woman blocked the strike, the man slashed low at Soerl's legs. He shifted backward to avoid the attack and narrowed his eyes. "I see. You fight in tandem." He recognized the style immediately. Longsword in his left hand, he held his right off to the side. His broadsword appeared in it. He put his left foot backward a step and waited.

The male elf smirked smugly at Lydia as he pointed out, sending a gust of hot, white energy at her. Raising her left arm to shield her eyes from the light, her right hand was held up, palm forward. The Ring of Klytus glowed brighter as a barrier of mana formed in front of her, just barely shielding her from the elf's blast. As his spell faded, both arms were lowered. Already, he was working on another spell. She couldn't exactly afford to hesitate, so she didn't. "Bolatu!" Drawing a rune-like symbol in the air, it glowed as the spell took affect on the elf, effectively turning his body to stone. The look on his face was one of panic and terror as the spell overtook him completely. It was only temporary, but Lydia figured it would help to buy some time. With one threat out of the way, Lydia started to turn towards Soerl, ready to assist him, but was tackled to the ground by an unseen force.

The male this time attacked Soerl, but he expected the real attack to come from the woman. He was right. He brought his long sword up to deflect the man's lunge. It seemingly left him open in the direction he swung. However, as the woman came in to impale him in the side with her sword, Soerl stepped to the side. The back of his broadsword smacked her in the back of the head. She fell immediately, unconscious. He glanced back behind him when he heard a ruckus. "Lydia, are you all right?!"

Hearing Soerl, she opened her mouth to respond to him, but no words came. The halfling he had hit was the one who had tackled her. He now sat atop her, hands around her throat in an effort to strangle her. Though he was a halfling, he was pretty strong, but not as strong as a full grown human male, at least. Teeth grit, Lydia reached up to slap her hands against the halfling's ears. He shrieked and reached up instinctively, which gave her time to roll away and stand. The human male used Soerl's distraction to his advantage, and lunged at his side with the end of his blade.

Supernatural reflexes were all that saved the minstrel from taking the full brunt of the man's attack. The blade nicked his side as he shifted away. Acting more out of annoyance than pain, Soerl slammed the pommel of his longsword into the man's forehead. The force was enough to put him out as well. As his opponent's body crumpled, he wheeled around to look at Lydia and the halfling.

Lydia gasped a little as she reached up towards her neck. Sore for certain and it would likely bruise some, but she'd be fine. The halfling was quick to recover, and sprinted to his feet. He reached down, working to unsheath a knife from his belt, but Lydia didn't give him the chance. "You miserable little man!" Her knee shot out, and given the halfling's height, he caught the full brunt of the blow in the face. He went limp and fell, unconscious just as his friends had.

The minstrel had been about to cast a spell, but before he even began the halfling was lying in the dirt. He let out a breath. His earlier question was repeated, but more calmly. "Are you all right, Lydia?" He moved to retrieve his pack and then started in her direction. He sheathed his longsword. His broadsword simply vanished.

Frowning down at the unconscious halfling, Lydia lowered her hands from her neck. Pale blues lifted towards Soerl to examine him a moment and she nodded. Taking note of the state of the bandit group, she reclaimed her staff from the ground, then reached to grasp one of Soerl's hands with her free one. "The spell won't last much longer." She likely spoke of the petrification spell on the elf - she hadn't made it particularly powerful. "We should go." Voice a little quieter and hoarser than usual, she tried to tug Soerl down the path with her.

"Already?" Surprised by the fact, she still perked a bit. Opening her eyes and peeking out the window, she slid out along with Soerl, staff in tow. "The Half-Moon... that's what you said it was called?" She was looking around, seeking out the building in question.

"It is. A friend of mine owns it." He chuckled a bit and pointed out the building for Lydia. It looked nice on the outside. Clean, well kept. The structure was almost completely wooden. "Ah, Rue is a little... rough around the edges. Just as a warning. She's a good lady, though." The building was rather large. A small pathway of stones led up to the red oak door that would allow them access. The carriage driver smiled to them both. "Have a good night!" And the carriage was off.

She turned towards the building as it was pointed out, head tilting as she studied it. "It looks like a nice place." Hearing the carriage driver, she smiled and waved to him before starting down the stone path towards the building without hesitation.

"It does, doesn't it?" The minstrel smiled a little to himself. He followed after Lydia. "Watch your step when you open the door. The floor is a little higher than the door."

"Okay." It was a good thing he warned her too, because she'd have likely faceplanted, given her newfound lack of patience. Reaching out to tug the door open, she was careful of that first step as she wandered inside.

It was a little loud inside. People enjoying their drink, talking, yelling. There was even a wolf whistle when Lydia came into view. The dwarven woman at the bar immediately snapped her head at the elven male that had whistled at Lydia. "Hey! Ye be knowin' better than to do that! Do it again and Ah'll be smashin' yer bloody skull!" Soerl chuckled as he followed behind Lydia. He'd heard all of that. Rue hadn't seen him yet. "Welcome to the Half-Moon, lass. What kin I do fer ye?" She smiled widely at Lydia.

Lydia cringed a little at the wolf whistle, though her brows shot up at the dwarven woman's reaction. With a blink, she smiled back and started approaching the bar. "Good evening." Nodding her head politely. "I've ah, been travelling with my fiance, and we need a place to stay." She paused. "He knows the owner here, and I believe he's sent a letter ahead of time." She wasn't sure if this woman was Rue or not, but regardless, turned to point out the minstrel for her.

The elven man was busy grumbling under his breath after the reprimand. Rue eyed him for a moment and looked back to Lydia. Both of her silver brows went up. "Ye be Soerl's fiance, lass?!" She was away from the bar in a hurry and headed for Lydia. Soerl stepped to off to the side, so he was next to Lydia. "Indeed. A woman agreed to marry me, Rue. Fancy that." The minstrel grinned brightly at the dwarf. She laughed heartily and reached out her arms to the minstrel. He crouched a little to greet Rue with a hug. After that, she offered a hand to Lydia. "I be Weralsia, lass. Everyone 'round these parts calls me Rue."

"It's very nice to meet you, Rue." She grinned as she shifted staff from one hand to the other, and took Rue's offered hand to shake it, somewhat weakly. "I'm Lydia. And yes, for some reason, I did agree to marry Soerl." She smiled aside at him, somewhat teasingly.

Rue laughed again at Lydia's words. She withdrew her hand. "Any lass that reins this one in has me respect." She grinned at Lydia and then winked at Soerl. "Yes, you're both quite funny." The minstrel rolled his eyes. Rue started to head back to the bar, beckoning the pair to follow her with a hand.

"We are, aren't we?" A rhetorical question, no doubt. Reaching out for Soerl's hand, she started tugging him along to follow after Rue. "Have you two been friends for a long time?"

"In human terms we've been friends damn near fore'er. It be ten, eleven years since that scrawny runt come in tha' door back there." She grinned over her shoulder at Lydia. Soerl pretended not to hear either of them. Upon getting behind the bar, Rue swiped a key from under the counter and set it down. "Either of ye be wantin' a drink?"

"Hm... some water would be nice, thank you." She was thirsty after the long day of travelling. Considering Rue's words, she glanced to Soerl then back, grinning again. "So you've known him all this time? You'll have to tell me the kind of guy he was back in the day."

"Please don't get her started, Lydia. Not cold, Rue." Too late for not getting the dwarf started, it seemed. She nodded a little at Soerl's words. She set a glass of water in front of Lydia, then a bottle of ale in front of Soerl. "Back in the day, aye? Headstrong, overconfident, but damn charming. Liked to get himself in trouble too. Oh, and a distinct lack o' table manners. And o' course flirtin' with the ladies that came 'round. I remember tha' too. I miss anythin', lad?" The question was for Soerl. Rue winked at Lydia, however. "No I don't think so, Rue."

Picking up the glass of water, she sipped at it a bit as she listened to Rue, occasionally sneaking a glance at Soerl as she spoke. Finally, she lowered her glass and set it down. "All of that sounds exactly like the way he is now." She chuckled. "Except maybe the part about flirting with all the ladies..." Pale blues shifted to Soerl. "Or I hope so, at least."

"I only flirt with one lady these days." He looked over at Lydia and flashed her a grin. He lifted one of his hands and settled it on the elf's back. Rue chuckled a bit and opened up Soerl's ale for him. He started reaching into his pocket for coins. "Soerl Lute, ye put a bloody silver down on th' bar an' Ah'll smash yer fingers. Ye know better then that."

Brows lifted a little at Rue's words, but Lydia didn't comment. Instead, she simply sipped from her glass again. Absently shifting a little closer to the minstrel, she smiled at Rue. "You have a really nice place here. In Rhydin City a lot of bars and taverns are.. well.. not quite this nice." Probably an understatement, right there.

Soerl defensively raised his hand and then reached for the ale as Rue spoke to Lydia. "Thank ye, lass. I try ta keep it up. It be hard with all the hooligans that come in sometimes." She grinned at Lydia. Her expression suddenly became sharp as she looked away. It matched her piercing blue eyes. A small hammer was lifted from behind the bar. Some fellow seemed to be getting too friendly with a lady next to him at the bar. Rue stood up on one of the shelves and smacked the man on the head with the hammer. "Keep yer grubby mitts ta yerself!" The man apologized quite a few times afterward. Soerl chuckled. "Good to see she hasn't changed. They call her Rue because if you cross her, you'll rue the day you ever did." He grinned at Lydia.