In idle wait, The Dark Mage of the Shaitan, Arkon Daraul, occupied the shadow of the southern berm just outside the Tower of Barud Daus. The air's chill bore plumes of minute mist from his drawn hood as he stood in stoic contemplation, awaiting the arrival of the Primorus Discipulus and the Infernal Elf. Schedules were not only being met, but had exceeded their expected success by more than week, and this was something that gave Arkon great pleasure. The hour of the damned grew near, and soon the next portion of his ploy would be complete.

Tiatari was nervous and the energy she commanded revealed this in the sharp acrid snap that was louder and brighter than necessary to summon her forth. Electricity crackled on a blinding whiplash of ozone, the metallic hued strands of her hair rising eerily with the charge of her magic. The grey depths of her eyes blazed silver for the space of two fluttering blinks of her long lashes before they simmered into a softer shade of neutrality. With several deep calming breaths she took her time before entering his study, prepared to demonstrate her abilities and earn his recognition.

Since L'loris's freedom she had found a lustful fancy for all things luxurious and this translated into a growing collection of clothing and accessories. Crimson hues were her favorite and today was no exception as she dressed to boldly take the eye of any who dared to look her way. Icy disdain was the cloak she wore no matter what emotions danced beneath the surface. She used no magical means to traverse her way to the summoning, striding through the commons and glaring down any who dared looked her way.

Arcane machinations gave instant awareness of Tiatari's presence outside of Arkon's quarters. Lips parted, broken tiers chipped with blood and hiding dangerous fangs, delivering a whisper upon the wind wrought of magics that traversed the distance between them, offering a better understanding as to his actual local. At the conclusion of his spell he glanced sidelong, acknowledging the arrival of L'loris with a simple look, his saffron stare breeching the darkness of his cowl. L'loris nodded with a sharp tilt of her chin that revealed her obedience to his greater power. Well aware of who had freed her and who orchestrated such a boon; at least partially aware of his reasoning as well. A look was sent in the direction of the Institute in search of what he awaited.

As she entered, she was startled by the lack of response at the doors. They should most assuredly open to admit her. A frown marred her smooth brow and with a sharp jolt of fear she realized her mistake in the icy sweeping sensation. " Oh no!" Gathering the energy about her again, she launched herself in the direction of the actual meeeting.

Tiatari arrived. The sharp scent of ozone and the brilliant flash much more powerful as she was rushed and in less control. Breathlessly she offered a tight lipped nod to the infernal elf, not startled to find her in attendance. " Mastema..." She said as his message arrived, acknowledging her lack of attentiveness. "...forgive my late arrival."

He freed his gnarled hand from the generous folds of his sleeve and lifted it to draw back his hood. Birthed from the cowl was his angular and antiquated visage, with cheekbones sunken in tight to the skull and a chin so sharp it could cut diamond. Thick, black tresses followed, pouring down his back like obsidian syrup to splash between slender shoulder blades. Arcane fixtures flared to life with the sudden burst of mana so near, stealing the sound and potency of Tiatari's arrival so that she was left in utter silence as she appeared. His sickly xanthous glare caught sight of her eyes, and while his gaze was harsh and without mercy, she would be able to sense that there was no disapproval. She was the Primorus Discipulus. She deserved a shred of leniency.

Ah, L'loris thought, the arrival of the Blessed Primorus. Irritation was a bright flare of heat in her crystalline blue gaze. She did naught to return Tiatari's friendly acknowledgment, refusing to admit that the girl was as likable as she was smart. Instead she simply waited, rolling on the balls of her feet in a telltale sign of agitation despite her calm facade.

He moved toward them, his malefic staff aiding in the labors of physical travel with a rap upon the ground. Grass had been dwindled to near nothingness and overtaken by the barren length of rock and stone, and while the landscape was not enjoyable to view it did offer a steady fixture to move across. There was no blinking, only the sweep of his gaze between the two. "You're tardy arrival is forgiven, Tiatari, though the transgression must be answered for with punishment. L'loris will take on the ownership and appease my grievance with re-categorizing all of the elemental albums in the southern hall chronologically."

Tiatari had drawn a deep breath to ease the nervous jitters at his approach but his words left them expelling in a sudden rush of shock that sounded suspiciously like a squeak. Wide grey eyes jumped from him to the face of the infernal elf, well aware of what such direction would wreak upon her features. She swallowed back a disagreement, much more wary of what he would deal out in the event of her questioning his judgment. A simple, "Yes, Mastema." was weakly whispered.

As L'loris watched him maneuver through the berm she was callous enough to wonder if his brittle bones could handle a fall. She almost hadn't caught the direction of his last directive, so thrilled was she by his admission that punishment would indeed fall upon the precious head of Primorous Pain in the Ass-us. But no, as usual, the payment was hers and hers alone to pay. The glare that settled upon Tiatari was malevolent and spoke of a special sort of payback. The concern the youthful chit exhibited only underscored her disdain. At least have the gall to stand for your actions and receive your passes with some class. Her lips drew back in a sneer.

Again Arkon's hand emerged from the bowels of his robes, though this time the hooked clencher was not empty. He held in his grasp a dark and ancient looking tome. Plates of bone bound by flesh, with intricate symbols worked along the border. Just the sight of it was normally potent enough to steal the strength of weaker men, though that was of no concern to the Dark Mage now - as the power that once infused the grimoire had been stolen. "Do either of you know what this is?" He asked as he brought the book up to eye level and released it, leaving it to hang upon the air.

Tiatari had no answer to gift him with and it showed in her discomfort. Answers were her forte. She was and had always been a teacher's pet and with that description came the ability to thrust one's hand in the air faster than any other and to recite verbatim any lesson every given. She was at a loss and it clearly pained her.

She was avoiding Tiatari.

Fear leant itself to her actions. Of course, she would never admit this to the young woman. But the pique of having to reorganize was not what kept her from the Primoros Discipilus even if it was the reason she latched onto.

She knew damn well who the Dark Mage sought to resurrect. His was a story told to frighten children. Infernal elves grew up with the knowledge that dragons were thine enemy but Malaneth the Black was your worst nightmare come true.

So fearful were they of this malevolent being that they hid any mention of him in the insane ramblings of a human. Cursing him to scribe the legends of Malaneth in their own tongue while eradicating any who knew their language. To read of the Athalos Ledger was to invite madness. And, as if this were not enough, they had allowed this ancient and powerful tome to disappear in the lands of RhyDin where it had found shelter in an inaccessible library, forgotten and overlooked.

And then they had died. In the wars with the dragons they had all fallen. The alliance with the drow having successfully overwhelmed her people. She had been spared only through sheer ill luck, the captured bounty of a drider.

She was the last remaining Infernal Elf of RhyDin and with that legacy came the realization that she was the only living entity left who knew the words that could free the creature's power from the Ledger.

The apprentice collapsed upon the smooth marble floor, clutching his chest as startled terror invaded the depths of his youthful gaze. Pain usurped his internal organs, seizing them into agonizing duress as the spell anchored within him and claimed the strength of his legs. He stared down at the sleek stone beneath him, trying to fight, desperate to survive, and violently wretched a gout of water that sent him hacking and coughing in search of beloved oxygen.

The Dark Mage of the Shaitan loomed above him, the menace of afflicted saffron orbs boring into his crumpled form. The wicked length of his twisted wizard's staff was gripped firmly in his right hand, lending aid to the weakened stilt of limbs plagued by the shard's infection. "You were given specific instructions." Arkon growled. "I had thought I made myself clear."

The aqueous vomiting died away, permitting the apprentice to suck in a desperate breath. Through a gelatinous mosaic of spewing internal liquids and mucus he struggled to speak. "Mastema...please...I'll find her."

"You'll do no such thing." Arkon snarled. "You were instructed to watch over L'loris Ondyn for a very specific purpose. She is an infernal elf and thus difficult to track via magical means. Your obligation required very little from you besides an astute focus that you swore you possessed. You were mistaken."

"Mastema..."

The swipe of Arkon's gnarled left hand lacerated the crumpled apprentice with arcana wrought from the depths of the lower nine, washing over him in an onslaught of vial septicity. The potent iniquity of the Shard's corruption accelerated an already powerful mastery of ancient spellcraft, which made calling upon such horrid incantations a mere secondary thought.

Flesh tore away, blood and bone incinerated, and where the apprentice knelt prone upon the floor there was instead nothing but a hollow silhouette. The ghastly image rose to its full height as though aided by a soft draft, and stared at the Dark Mage of the Shaitan with eyes that lacked conscious thought or reason.

"Go." Arkon said. "You shall from henceforth be the guardian of the cannon vault."

There was no contention or resistance within the wraith, it had been shed along with the will and soul. It turned and headed off toward the far hall where it would make its descent and assume it's new role.

With an unvoiced disdain the Dark Mage made his way into the infamous Red Dragon Inn, the cadenced melody of his clicking staff sounding between labored footsteps. The affliction born of the shard's infection had nearly denaturalized his original appearance and replaced it with something horrific and monstrous, escalating the need for his voluminous robes to unchallenged priority. With the cowl fully drawn, concealing his gruesome features, and his long sleeves able to veil the sight of his gnarled hands Arkon crossed the threshold and made an arduous path toward the hearth with little concern for what onlookers sought. He may have seemed despondent, but the truth was he missed nothing.

His meeting with Legacy, one of Rhy'din's most influential crime lords, went according to plan, and by the end of it the details and requirements of his agenda were explained and properly met. Arkon offered minute support for the nefarious syndicates that preyed on the citizens of Rhy'din, though he could appreciate the ambition of an entrepreneur such as Legacy; one who was determined to be a fixture amongst the black market and back alleys, and had accomplished this in a relatively short amount of time.

The Winds, Legacy's elite associates, would offer assistance in locating the fleeing Infernal Elf, though beyond that they would do nothing. Arkon's orders were made with crystalline clarity; L'loris was not to be touched, she wasn't even to be made aware of their presence. Tiatari would be the one to find L'loris. Tiatari would bring her back.

Tiatari would fade into shadow a bit more.

With a violent word igniting the magic around him, the Dark Mage vanished from his path along the cobble streets after departing the Inn, appearing many miles away at the mouth of a dark alley reputed for its villainous occupants and ruthless treachery.

Cutter's Way.

He traversed the alley with a drumming of his staff, the resonation amplified by a simple spell. The echoing sound was a beacon for any who sought to test their cruelty on a new victim, and it didn't take long for Arkon to conjure one of these delinquent outlaws.

He was tall and thin, though that may have just been an illusion cast by his oversized clothing, with greasy hair that fell across his dark eyes and a dirty beard framing a mouth partially full of teeth. As he approached the Dark Mage he drew a thin stiletto from his belt scabbard, letting the sound of steel on leather ring out. "It's unfortunate." He snarled. "But yer about ta get cut."

The vicious smirk that took hold of Arkon's monstrous expression was sheathed behind that ominous hood, and in response to the threat proposed, he merely reached out with his talon-like fingers and sharply clenched them together.

In midstride the ruffian stumbled forward, dropping the dagger to clutch desperately at his chest. He clawed his own flesh as though trying to dig into his breast, falling first to his knees, and then fully down onto his face, panting a dozen bubbles of air into a blended puddle of dirty rain and urine.

"Your fate currently lies within a pool of discharged waste, so I hope you understand the severity of your dire straits and the ease in which all of this could be taken away. Luckily, I do not require your death. In fact, I need you alive."

When the Dark Mage released his gripping hand the slender brute sucked in a deep breath and rolled over onto his back, panting desperately in the wake of detached agony.

"I have a job for you."

Tiatari had an unexpected guest that night. The apprentice was a surprisingly humorous and charismatic man. As they discussed plans for the capturing of L'loris, she found herself more and more fascinated by Uziya.

She wasn't quite sure how she'd come to find herself waking up to his naked body, but it was a deliciously appetizing body to discover next to her.

The early morning summonings by Satariel had put a damper on returning to the night's activities. But it had put them in the mindset needed to concentrate on the task at hand.

With her new roommate she plotted and planned.

L'loris would be well hidden and they needed a way to draw her out. But first they needed her self-assured in her ability to elude them. Time to "beat the bushes" and see what they could stir up.

Pleasantly surprised.

Uziya had heard a great deal of things pertaining to Tiatari Blayne, the Primorus Discipulus of the Institute of Arcane Principle, and very few of them were critical beyond the standard jealousy and envy that often spewed from less decorated students. She was astute and focused, driven and composed, which said a lot about a student in only her third year.

He was an apprentice, a second year, and hoped beyond hope that in twelve months he came across as poised as she did. It was impressive.

He had met her in the Mastema's chamber, where the three of them discussed the mission: the apprehending of L'loris Ondyn, the last Infernal Elf. Uziya's opinion was questioned a few times, but for the most part Arkon and Tiatari did the talking. Considering the company, he was fine with that.

He knew why Arkon wanted him, or at least he thought he did. While he was only a second year Apprentice he had been told for a long time that his skill with Illusionary magic was innate and far beyond the regulatory study of spell casters. A council of scholars had once told him that it had to do with his bloodline and ancient heritage, but since they couldn't prove anything he dismissed it without continued research. If that was the reason why then fine, and as long as it didn't detract from his casting he really had no compulsion for further investigation.

After leaving the Mastema's chamber he escorted Tiatari back to her room, continuing their discussion about their task, though veering into more personal matters a time or two. He learned her name and title, as well as the name of her familiar, and in return offered up a little bit about himself. Somehow he wound up sitting on the edge of her bed, and then laying back on a pillow, uncertain as to whose suggestion it had gotten him there.

He was a little startled when he awoke the next morning to find her hovering above him, watching him with those dove grey eyes, the sheet that enveloped her only partially covering her naked body. There was momentary panic as he was instantly convinced that this look she gave him was one of regret and self-deprecation, but as her stare lingered he could tell that there was none of that.

He dressed and they laughed, teasing and taunting each other with hints of the previous nights salacious activities, though all of that came to an end once the Deaconess' summons arrived.

Tiatari instantly fell back into the role of astute Mage, which inspired Uziya to do the same.

They met with Satarial, the ghostly matron of the Institute, and once again the Illusionist found his tongue tucked wisely behind his teeth.

A Trip to the Lumber Yard - Part Two



Instead she concentrated on summoning a water elemental, pulling inward and casting out in a seeking torrent of an aquatic language. Seconds later they were enveloped in the cooling depths of a watery shroud as they were surrounded by her summoned assistance.

"Savu!" He snapped as he whipped his hand to the side, filling the area around them with a thick black smoke. The soothing rush of Tiatari's spell nullified the arid burns that were flaring up all around them, and though it was instinctive to think that the heavy cloud of smog would choke the lungs, it would quickly be revealed that the illusion was virtually harmless to those inside. "I didn't see her." He said. "I don't know if she is still here or if we just triggered a trap. Behind us there is a door but I couldn't make out where it lead. It might take us outside, it might be a closet."
Through the cloud she would be able to make out his eyes, and the concern they held for her. "Are you alright?"

"Pissed." And the flash of silver in her gaze was warning enough that Tia did not appreciate being made to feel the fool. His quick thinking had shielded them from outside eyes and hers had shielded them from the heat of the initial attack. She ignored the normal reaction of self-castigation of knowing that his keen sight had spotted something hers had not, "Let's see where the door takes us." Her movements indicated her desire to rise as she cast a quick look at her lover in assessment, "You're not injured are you?" Worry quite evident.

He pushed himself up and pulled her with him. "A little toasty but nothing too serious." He kept his hand in hers, fingers laced, and drew in a deep and settling breath. "For the door on three." He whispered. "One...two....three!" And with that he shot forward, instantly in a dead run that took them out of the smoke. He wanted to look back, look around, to try and see if there was any other looming threat, but he couldn't exactly remember the location of the door and had to find it first. In fact, their initial path lead them to the left of the portal, and quickly he had to veer to the side to angle them back toward it. It wasn't very far and the smoke obscured them from visual clarity, but he knew how crafty L'loris was, knew how dangerous, and all she needed was a window...even a small one....to unleash hell upon them.

Her fingers were clenched taut in his as she took strength in his obvious protective stance. If she was bothered by his masculine urge to defend her she did little to show it and instead found encouragement in his agreeing with her plan. At his countdown she raced alongside him, her long hair streaming out like a banner of electrical energy and it was this that caught the attention of the last lingering plan of L'loris'; the creature that bellowed its excitement launching forward on its odd leaping gait, its dog head lifting in a howl of excitement at the magic it found before it.

He could smell it. Crimson eyes went wide as he snapped his head to the side. "Denubae!" He tore his hand free from hers as he spun and waved his hands in a wide fan. "Kangastus!" And with that spell came a multitude of images stepping out of the flank of the Illusionists, six in total, all exact replicas of the original. He took a defensive stance and reached down to draw the magical dagger he kept on his hip- ...that was lying between two pillows on Tiatari's floor. Damn!

The fury that possessed the magic-eating beast was undeniable. Panic sought to claim Uziya's throat and choke him. "Keep your magic hidden!" He knew he didn't have to instruct her, but his words were meant to assist Tiatari as much as they were him.

The problem with hiding one's magic when one was in fact partially arcana by birth was something Tia had not chosen to share with Uziya. In fact, it was something she'd kept secret from everyone with the exception of the Mastema. Realizing the futility of divesting herself of her magic she instead sought to draw in her connection to the electrical energy in the area and it was then that L'loris' plan fully revealed itself; the negation rebounded back at her. Frightened, her dove grey eyes went wide as they sought out her love only to discover a variety of them around her. For some reason this only further panicked her as she realized she didn't know which one was the original, "Uziya?!"

The Denubae howled in glee at what looked like an increase in those it could feed upon and lunged at the nearest illusion, slavering maw gaping as its spiked tail lashed out for another.

One went to the left, two dove to the right. Three went straight at the oncoming beast, roaring with a fury that paled in comparison to the howl of the Denubae. Four's hands went to weaving what appeared to be a spell, and Five crouched low as though preparing to attack the beast if it came near. Six, on the other hand, ran straight at her, and upon arriving revealed that it was actually her lover as it took her around the waist and pushed her for the door. "Quickly!" He said, fear evident in his gaze. Without any weapons and only magic to aid them, they were appetizing beacons to the monster. Ignorant of Tiatari's origin, he was convinced that the only way they could survive was to run. "Can you teleport us back?"

"Once we're free of the area." She managed, gasping at his sudden emergence, sending her heart leaping in her chest as she spun and ran at his bidding.

The door before them beckoned and as they drew closer and closer, Uziya realized that the door, in fact, was not real. His focus at the Institute was illusionary arcana, and one of the benefits of that study was a premonition when observing such visions. This door lacked tangible consistency and was in reality nothing but a disguised wall. With a quick detection spell he found the real door hidden behind another rudimentary illusion spell a good ten feet further down the wall. Billows of smoke clogged the air as the water elementals continued to extinguish the blaze at Tiatari's initial bidding. Unfortunately, one ventured too close to the Denubae and was immediately dispatched in a draining of arcana that was truly horrific for a spellcaster to see; thankfully, Tia's attention was on the door she was frantically trying to open.

The images created by Uziya's spells were instantly expelled with but a touch, and while they were great distractions, the Denubae's rampage made quick work of them. "No!' He said, yanking her away from the door. "Not there!" He whispered another incantation and made a swift and sharp motion with his fingers. Another set of illusions appeared then; one of him and one...of her. They turned the knob of the illusionary door and threw it open before darting down the hallway behind. Uziya, the real one, pulled her along the wall. "The real door is down here!" He looked over his shoulder, praying that the Denubae would buy it and hoping that an insane dive through the 'open' door in pursuit of its prey would leave the creature dazed in a heap on the floor after colliding with the wall.

Strings of Accord ? Part One

The door opened, seemingly of its own accord, and in through it entered the Dark Mage of the Shaitan. With the assistance of his gnarled wizard's staff, he traversed a weaving avenue along the scattered tables, chairs, and patrons toward the bar. Every step was accompanied by a soft click. With his cowl demitted about his shoulders, the rare sight of his antiquated visage was exposed to the public: Sharp cheek bones and saffron eye, pale flesh framed by thick tresses of raven-black hue. Normally these features were stowed behind the veil of shadow cast by a drawn hood. But not tonight.

The adroit stride ceased as he arrived at the bar, taking a moment to quietly observe the assortment of beverages that lined the wall opposite of where he stood. His internal contemplation seemed thorough as he studied his choices, though finally he decided upon one libation and lifted his unoccupied hand. Magic swirled around the weaving digits, and as the spell was cast the selected bottle propelled forward from its idle stance and smoothly floated across the air to settle within his grasp.

Something moved in the shadows behind Arkon. The nubile form of Avitu knelt before him, gold eyes downcast and hands clasped together. He throttled the vessel and turned, his merciless stare descending to the creature who knelt before him. "Rise." He said with a voice venomously reserved. Avitu complied immediately and rose with her eyes still downcast.

Austeria had been patient: A silhouette of stillness leaning against the rail at the top of the stairs. Long pauses between the slow, sweet drag of a cigarette. The cherry red end briefly illuminated pale flesh and mauve coated lips. Each kiss a lingering one before she reluctantly released the acrid bite of the smoke from pursed lips. The push up from the railing was a sensuous one. A lithe stretch made earthy by the complete lack of concern for what might or might not have been noticed. She flicked her wasted lover into the ashtray before descending the stairs in a hip swaying step of steady nonchalance. Her direction was keyed in and her attention obviously upon the bar.

Again the rhythmic click of his staff was heard upon the floorboards as he started away from the bar, targeting the hearth. There was a tilt of his head in mid-travel toward the stairs, and if she who descended them was looking his way, she would have found a greeting glance and a sharp nod of recognition.

Her internal thoughts were her own, but the hooded fall of her dark lashes kept whatever inner secrets she held protected. Sooty shadow and expertly applied kohl had made already entrancing eyes downright sultry. The rolling rock of her hips spoke of the kind of assurance that came from a familiarity with one's own body. No artifice, just pure earthy woman. The low slung heels highlighting the curve of her calves as she expertly traversed the crowd. Oh so careful to allow none to touch nor to accidently touch another.

His acknowledgment was met. Squarely. No flirtatious or coy hint to be found in that business-like nod of greeting. Yet the smile that curved her lips was sensuously inviting all the same. That lipstick stained mouth vivid and viciously vibrant. She made her way hearthside with but a spin of a heel, unperturbed to have her direction altered.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Austeria." He said, though the way he annunciated her unique name indicated that this was not his first time uttering it. "How have things been down at the Shambles Way? Surely life is never dull with all of the macabre infecting the city."

"War kisses the streets of RhyDin. A madman's terror infuses its people into chaos." She shrugged as if this were all so mundane as to be normal; yet, that shrug was womanhood personified: all liquid sophistication and lack of urgency. Nothing she did was quick. Each movement a slow inexorable motion as if it were simply meant to happen and therefore would occur. It could have been viewed as lazy if it were not for that sullen heat that lit her sable gaze and warned of her sharp intelligence. "We're a clinic. Full of healers." Softly, her smoker's voice lacking the usual emotion one might expect from such a conversation. "We're busy." As if that were all that needed saying.

"War." He spoke that single word with an almost intimate intonation. "It comes in so many different forms and yet leaves the same gift no matter what vehicle it arrives upon." Again he took from the wine glass. "Your service within the city is invaluable, for what hope would there be without those able to eliminate the pain. The suffering."

Her gaze never left him. A gift once bestowed upon another became difficult for her to reclaim. He remained her entire focus. And perhaps it was this intimacy that allowed him to see a flare within her sable eyes at the mention of pain and suffering. It was not a healer's reaction, all soft concern and potent empathy. Far from it in fact, a hinted excitement that she concealed with a gentle toss of her head sending jagged blonde hair to whisper outward and settle across her forehead. "I do what I can. The people of Shambles Way Clinic are the true heroes." Tellingly divorcing herself from them. Always the outsider.

"Yes." He said. "They are. It takes a certain type of person to be able see that much misery and not fall victim to what must feel like infinite anguish." Arkon paused as he watched her, easily recognizing the predatory that skulked behind those obsidian eyes. "And yet there is another type of person. One who sees that sort of unbearable torment and finds pleasure in it. One who revels in the cruelty cast upon others. I'm sure you have none of them at your clinic though. As you said, they are the true heroes."

Knowing. The smile should've been a smirk but that womanly aura didn't allow for such an easy interpretation, not when the curve of those luscious lips punched a heavy dose of lust in its usual recipients. It was a woman's weapon, this smile, a 'you caught me perhaps you're man enough to punish me' statement made brazen by the simple uplifting of her chin. Welcoming. Almost begging and pleading for it. Whatever it might be. In this case she gave him the reward he sought for his penetratingly accurate assessment of her. She stopped playing games. "We've located your lost treasure."

She'd taken note of his secondary statement, had in fact felt a rise of irritation. But she had not been chosen for this meeting because she was known for rash responses or impulsive behavior. As much as she wanted to contend that it was not them that had sought his council as much as it was him that had sought their assistance, she said nothing, for diplomacy was not just the gentle way to detach from a clingy **** the morning after, but an artform after all.

"Forgive me if I do not share the same zeal for that particular offering." He nodded to Avitu as she had dutifully sought out the asked for drink, although his powerful gaze never left the dark eyes of his current audience." He noted her refrain from acknowledging his question pertaining to her employer, which was expected. As a collective, the Winds, the Venti, were notorious for offering information only when needed. There was demanding urge for an answer, but instead a simple veer toward another subject. "How is itthat you came to know of your employer? How long have the two of you been associates?"

Her lips drew back to reveal a flash of her teeth in that grin. A wicked sight indeed. And when accompanied by her next action it was truly sin-inducing. Curvy legs uncrossed to place both feet upon the floor, a simple push of her lithe body carrying her afterwards to kneel before him. Sable eyes flared with promise and untold secrets as she took the position of the supplicant for a moment, appearing all the while as if she were enacting a base fantasy of most average men. She reached out and claimed the bottle brought by his willing little servant. Her attention flickering from him to her drink of choice. Her intended location all along. Knelt before the coffee table she prepared her libation with the skill of an attentive lover, her sultry smoker's voice revealing a soft taunt, "Such questions are awfully penetrative."

Had he been a mortal man there is no doubt that her seductive slither would have stirred within him the primordial reaction animals had toward those they craved. Her enticing movements were deft and potent, and had he not engineered a stout immunity to such salacious oblation centuries ago, he would have surely fallen victim to her allure. Instead, he merely watched, remaining dispassionate within his chair. "Simple conversation." He replied. "Nothing more. I thought perhaps a little light chatter might ease any constrictions between us.?

A splash of liquor in the shot glass. The warm color reflecting the light of the hearth they sat before. She brought her hand to her mouth and provocatively licked the sensitive flesh between thumb and forefinger, wetting the area for the sprinkle of salt that followed. Hers was a backwards ritual, the lime tasted first, the pulpy flesh bitten into with a viciousness that hinted at the predator that lurked beneath her vixen-ish surface. The bite of the juicy citrus bringing a pleasurable wince. The shot quickly followed and then, and only then, was the salt suckled from her doused flesh.

She hissed in a breath. Pleasure potent and glowing, "Constrictions aren't always a bad thing." And yes, this was flirtingly light and deliberate. Unlike most of her previous actions. She was teasing this time and it was evident by the playful tilt of those knowing little lips. "And I appreciate the sentiment." Seriousness returning slightly, "but such questions demand answers and answers gift knowledge...and knowledge is power after all." From her knees before him, a vision of seduction, she practically purred, "Would you have me give you such power so easily then?"

The use of his name without its proper recognition drew an easily seen sense of ire across his brows, though the passionate manner in which she spoke it defined that she did so, perhaps, out of naive ignorance. Still, the look was one of condemnation, though it was not nearly as harsh as those glares that stemmed carnage. "A compliment? Pardon me, I am not used to such a word carrying such an elaborate meaning. Perhaps you could expand further as we divert from our original discussion, the one that hinted at your acquisition of greater power, so that I may become more accustom to being called...odd?"

She would enjoy him. All of that icy cold self assurance. It would be enjoyable to explore it. To test it. Dangerous to taunt it. The reckless endangerment of such an act was just as fascinating as the act itself. The level of her appreciation was darkly carnal, intently primitive and clearly showcased in the glowing endorsement of her sable eyes. This was the look the fly might give the spider. Fear surely. Respect most undoubtedly. But it was raw excitement, an intrigue that more likened her to something as cliche as the moth to the light. She wanted to play. Quite badly. And she didn't bother to hide it. "And yet we won't be discussing either. For as much as I am clearly enjoying the exchange. My job was simply to let you know that we had located your missing student and would keep tabs on her accordingly. If you're content with the information," it was disappointment that shifted her hungry and show-stealing gaze from him and stole with it the warmth of her attention again, "I would be wise to leave this be."

He studied her for a long time, allowing silence to fall over them. First there came motion as he reached out and took hold of the staff that awaited his touch, having been suspended upon its narrow point beside him for the entirety of their conversation. Using it, he lifted from his chair to stand tall before her, shifting his gaze to the side as dark arcana was whispered past his thin lips. Not ten feet from him a shadowy sphere appeared and then slowly began to expand until it was narrow and elongated, much like a doorway. His eyes fell to Avitu - where again instructions were given without saying a word - and then slowly lifted to view The South Wind. "This portal leads to my study within the Institute. It will endure beyond my exit for a minute, if not a little less. I leave you, Austeria, with a simple choice. If you wish to expand on this hint of power I offer, then by all means, step through and we shall begin. Let the gate expire, and the so too shall the offer. It was a pleasure to meet you." The tilt of his shoulders lowered into the slightest of bows before he turned and started for the magical arch.

"Damn him." The bite of her words was vicious and if she could have rent from the air a bit of blood she would surely have been happier for it. In a rare display of agitation and speed she took to her feet in a blur of motion, supernatural in its quickness. Sable eyes blazed for she knew when she was being played. She was a sultry woman on an off day, but when heated with anger she simmered with pure sexuality. The desire to step through that door, to explore the offer of magic far past the little she had access to in her lifetime, was cruel in its intensity. She wanted. And this was not something she was accustomed to.

She took the shot glass from the table, bit into the flesh of the lime as if it were something else entirely, the splash of liquor hit her throat as she slammed it with a toss of her head sending jagged lengths of blonde in a halo. As she licked the salt from her flesh she glared at that door as if it offended her. As if it had came onto her after she'd told it to ****o ff.

And, with every step downright glossed with attitude she did the one thing she told him she didn't do. It was surely a strut when it was carried off with that much pure fire. The sway of her hips deliberate, the length of her legs extended in those heels that accentuated them. She walked through that doorway as if it were at the end of a ****ing runway. The shot glass tossed over her shoulder toward the hearth.

The dark face of the shadow door shimmered, an umbra pulsation that heralded its fading, and as Austeria crossed its abyssal threshold it consumed her before drifting out of existence.

A Trip to the Docks - Part Two

She was suddenly nervous for some inexplicable reason. His lean was relaxed yet somehow vibrated with a certain energy. Her skin tingled with the weight of his gaze, her body responding in a now all too familiar fashion. It unnerved her to discover that she was aroused, that a part of her wanted to encourage that direction, wished to assuage her curiosity at what it might feel like...with him. Such thoughts had never been a part of her nature before--the memory was like a blade. Cutting, cold, and quiet cruel. The warm emotions banished at the remembrance of pain and humiliation. Never one for outbursts or impulsive actions, she set the tea pot down gently and turned toward him, no hint of her raging agitation present in the motions; though the pressure of her lips quite nearly bruised them as she forcefully clenched them shut, only parting them long enough to offer, "Let's go now." Again, soft velvet, seemingly unperturbed and offering little in the way of a hint at her true emotions.

The sight of her lips rekindled the interest he found just days ago in the component closet. Internally he steeled himself from their arousal and intrigue, though still he found that he focused upon them as she spoke. Had it not been for the weight her words held he may have been too distracted to continue, though the thought of finding the Infernal Elf, the thought of aiding in Tiatari Blayne's epic failure...that was certainly a fantasy that rivaled all of the salacious visions he had concerning his sensual roommate. "I was hoping you'd say that." He replied as again that thinly wicked grin spread across his features. He stepped off the door and made his way toward her, eyes never leaving hers, even as he reached out with his right hand, a gesture that requested hers in response. "I'll take us there."

Her lips parted at his approach; the berry perfection softening from the hard line and allowing their fullness to surrender and open. The hint of a curve was only the barest of indications of what those lips could do as he was well aware as the recipient of one of her pleasure-inducing smiles. Willingly she held out the long-fingered delicacy of her hand in return.
The soft touch of his fingers filled her hand in a smooth glide that left them laced together. He stepped forward, watching her closely, even as the spell poured quietly from his lips. Brais had heard the Primorious Discipulus and that shlub Uziya speaking of their jaunt to the Lumber Mill, and he was certain that, while they never actually confirmed it, their little mishap revolved around the appearance of L'loris Ondyn. At the spell's conclusion there was a flash of heat before the two of them were stolen from their chambers and transported into the very center of the Cantath Cantak Lumber Mill. As they appeared he blinked a few times, re-gathering his focus, his bearings, and glanced around, though had yet to release her from his hand.

And that was why she rarely did anything impulsively. The bitter bite of the cold wind reminded her of the lack of her cloak and the thinness of her simple tunic style dress and leggings. The night sky was glorious however, the stars a brilliant counterpoint to the ragged and scorched lengths of the building that had quite obviously seen some extensive fire damage. She turned slightly to take in their surroundings and the curious set of her chin tilted her quirking lips upwards. With a shiver she reluctantly slid her hand from his, missing the warmth and security seconds after their release, "An odd place to start." Spreading her arms out to her sides she closed her eyes and murmured an arcane word in a velvety plea: her casting not so much a command as it was a supplication.
When she sought to break their physical connection he did not deny her, sliding his hand away as well. He turned to observe the mill, seemingly unbothered by the chill in the air thanks to an otherworldly lineage. He did, however, note her discomfort at the midnight's bite, and again spoke words of magic - something short and simple. With a small flash a folded garment appeared in his hands, and as it unfurled down to its full length, it revealed itself as a fur-lined cloak. "There are mysteries that don't require magic to solve." He whispered as he stepped around her, draping the length over her shoulders, letting his hands touch the sloped horizons and slide around to lightly clasp the brooch beneath her chin. He was careful not to disrupt her incantation.

Her shiver could have been from the temperature change, though in the private recesses of her mind she could admit that it was his nearness that unnerved her. It was this distraction that nearly made her miss the delicate lingering hint of teleportation. She could sense an ozone layer to it that brought her unfocused eyes upward, a small frown tugging at those luscious lips, "Tiatari was here." Having had no idea she would discover this as Brais' intentions had been left unclear.

"Odd." He said, feigning a dry surprise. "But what of another?" Once the brooch was fastened he drew his hands away, sliding them back along her shoulders until they faded and fell to his sides. He stepped completely around her, his eyes intent on hers, an anxious zeal filling his shadowy gaze at the thought of finding the Infernal Elf..as well as the idea that he got to share in the experience with Fleur. He glanced to those lips of hers, again nearly hypnotized by their delightful arch, though quickly managed to tear his eyes upward to again regard her.

When lost in an incantation she nibbled. A teasingly arousing taste of her lower lip, the glimpse of her teeth buried in the plump softness, creasing the berry sweetness before the tiered upper lip descended to suckle the offended flesh inside her heated mouth. The glistening re-emergence followed by the glide of her tongue to soothe. Lashes descended to conceal any awareness other than the arcane, her vulnerable form open for clues. "Ye-ess..." The soft velvety drawl one of increasing excitement, "Yes, there was another." She turned slightly as she opened herself up fully to the hints she was discovering.

"Where?" He asked, a sliver of demand infecting his voice. There was a strange amalgam of enticement that consumed him; partially physical arousal, and partially arcane excitement. It was working...her theory on finding the Infernal Elf was working. He figured that if she could sense Tiatari than she could sense L'loris, her words only confirming this. But there was also the sight of her suckling her lip, giving it the attention that he suddenly realized he wanted to administer. He fought through a storm of comingled desire, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand, though did take a step forward, a step into her, and lifted his hands to rest upon the narrow span of her waist, sharing with her the intimacy conjured by the magic in at least one way. "She has to be somewhere close, right? Somewhere nearby?"

His touch was frighteningly intense. Such a simple thing really but when one understood that the only intimacy she'd ever allowed had belonged to one, and one alone, she was startled into a sharp breath, breasts lifting as her lungs filled quickly, skin flushing, the peaches and cream complexion glowing as her lips parted on the gasp that accompanied the intake of air. Lashes flared wide as with that burst of emotion her 'net' cast wide and locked onto the trace energies of L'loris. Triumph spread her lips wide and ecstatically thrilled. The youthfulness of her features highlighted by the brilliance of that grin, "I got her!" Suddenly willing to overlook the physical nearness of Brais in her excitement, mirrored so potently upon his features. Not bothering to ask as she was certain she knew what he wanted she cast the simple spell that would send them shimmering out of existence there in the ravaged remains of the lumber mill.

Her excitement fueled his own and was mirrored in the glimmer of his dark eyes. Each growing moment was answered by another touch, another step, as the smile grew wider with her every success. Hands firmly squeezed her waist, suddenly so close that the rise of her beasts was answered with the steep facade of his chest. Her sentiment of achievement - "I've got her!" - was met with a tilt of the head, and if she were able to focus, she would have noted that it appeared as though he were intent upon kissing her, though stayed his forward surge just inches from her delicious lips. He listened to her magic and felt it build around him. He knew that she would understand the next step, and waited with a churning hunger to find out the location of his prey. He wanted her, wanted Fleur in many different ways, though his current conquest...by her doing...made that passionate desire expand by colossal lengths.

Ecstasy. The success of a student's theorem was trumped only by the bliss of a caster's accomplishment and all swirled together in a passionate response to Brais's undoubtedly pleasurable nearness. As her magic swirled around them, built in a crescendo that echoed the beating of her heart and the climax of the moment, she surrendered. The look in her eyes was pure woman. Seductive and seduced, beguiling and beguiled. Her head tilting back in a gesture made ancient by the elegant simplicity of desire and capitulation. Lush, berry sweetness, so tempting, and sinful parted in anticipation of those descending lips. Prepared to taste and be tasted. A tremble fissured beneath his hands upon her waist as she whispered a throaty sound of encouragement. Within a blink of that moment they were carried on the whiplash speed of a transportation spell, deposited in the same position in a locale unfamiliar.

A Trip to the Docks - Part Four

From the deep they awoke eagerly to the invasion of their aquatic world. Black, silvery grey scales slithered easily through the water as the humanoid-fish abominations stirred. The misbegotten creatures possessed both arms and legs, equipped with deadly claws, a long spiny frill decorated their backs and their slender, muscular tails whipped them easily through the water. Within seconds of the new arrivals in their watery domain, four of them were speeding upward towards the two newcomers.

Panic was fissuring her calm, her chest tight and desperate with each gentle bobbing motion that threatened to submerge her. She didn't care to play damsel in distress but fear was surmounting her desire to remain calm. As he gently drew her nearer she resisted the impulse to wrap about him like a deadweight and threaten to drown them both. Instead she kept 'treading' (or her version of it) as he wrapped one arm about her. The icy temperature of the water was settling in with a vengeance and her normally vibrantly raspberry lips were darkening into a more purple shade, her body suddenly best with tremors, "If I could just get a ..mi..nute ..to conce.ntr..ate," she attempted to draw her mana inward as she tried to ignore her body's indignities. The new arrival he summoned however startled her into losing any focus, her body stiffening as one arm twined about his neck in response. "Brais!"

The first of the skum circled the pair in the water, a vicious scythelike motion to its tail as it took note of what appeared to be an octopus, not recognizing the spell for what it was. Not about to lose its prey to a new predator, it focused its attacks on the tentacles, rocketing forward to flip about at the last second and rake its deadly hind talons across one of Brais' summoned assistants.

He cradled her the best he could, instantly concerned with her body's obvious reaction to the cold water. Holding her steady as he reached out for one of the straining tentacles, showing that they were, in fact, an ally. He maneuvered her first as the thick tendril coiled to created what could only be considered 'a seat'. He placed her in, tucking her soaked skirts about her legs to keep from getting caught up on any of the planks - his plan for the tentacle to push her back through the hole in the dock and place her atop it. The explosion of the skum beside him as it launched in to its attack was startling, drawing wide, fearful eyes to the violent motion. He recognized it for what it was...a predator...and knew he had to get it out of there. A second tendril reached for him, but the other two stood idle and were more than willing to lash out at the creature that attacked them to prevent further damage.

At the lack of blood, the skum was confused and its aquatic dismay was carried through the water as its companions arose to investigate. Again, the focus at this time remained on the tentacles which resembled a foe they were used to encountering. Their raking claws and hind talons put to good use as they sunk teeth as well into the tentacles that sought to protect the mages.

Seated in the cradle of a tentacle while drenched in the icy water of RhyDin's Sea, she had to question the wisdom of choices lately. Her mind was busily assessing what could've possibly sent them into this predicament. Surely the dock had been set with a magical trap and the idea had her indignation ratcheting upward. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the flicker of the fin through the water's surface and immediately found the concentration needed to cast, a Shield Other spell upon her companion.

The jagged remains of the dock were difficult to grasp and she pulled herself up as best she could, "Brais hurry!" Her words of warning. She couldn't afford to cast again as she was having a difficult time finding and holding onto any firm surface to fully find freedom from their situation.
He too had caught the arrival of another creature, though he was done being caught by surprise. "Apa de perete!" He roared as the tendril encircled his waist, lifting him from the sea. The water beneath the circling fin suddenly erupting upward into a rather tangible wall determined to crush the Skum between it and the dock with bone shattering force. He glanced to the hole as Fleur was climbing through it, relief confirmed.

The Skum was indeed struck straight upward by his quick wittedness, it's raking claws flashing out to try and take Brais or his rescuing tendril with it. The impact of its weight against the dock was enough to squash it like a bug while also shattering the remaining boards upward. Already weakened by the initial trap the dock itself began to collapse in a steady slide downward, the buoyancy of the wood the only thing keeping it afloat--like a raft.

She'd just gained her position on the docks, turning about on her knees to reach through the hole for her companion when the entire structure jerked up a few inches. Losing her grip on the wet board she slammed back downward, her chin striking the surface hard enough to stun as it split the skin. Anger was quite the compelling smelling salt as she struggled back upright on what was now a raft. Frantically she searched for Brais even as she cast a shimmering field of force about one hand.

He had nearly made it up through the hole himself when he cried out, fingers clawing at the splintering wood to pull him the rest of the way through. The collapse of the dock was almost beneficial, though, as it fell into the water, the insurgence of pressure aiding in his climb. He rolled over, panting for breath and glanced to Fleur to make sure she was okay, aware and ignoring the sharp sting along his side, though ignorant to the severity of the deep gash that bled through his clothing.

"Are you alright?" He asked, seeing the blood that dripped from her chin. "Can you hear me?"

The three remaining skum circled about in the water as they sought the meat that had quite nearly escaped. One was content to devour their squashed companion, a second reached a clawed hand up through the hole that Brais had just disappeared through, more than willing to take the attack to the surface, and the fourth and final one pulled itself up out of the water to land on its taloned feet a short distance behind Fleur.

And to answer his words, his gash lessened dramatically as it reappeared in her side. "Yes, I can hear you."

She winced, "And I'm fine." Hissing in a breath as she thrust forward her glowing hand to strike the hand that climbed up through the hole in the 'raft.' The creature disappearing in a bubbling cry of pain.

It was good that she came forward, because as she did he sat up, grimacing through the agony of his lacerated midsection, and whipped his arm in a hurling motion. Form his open hand launched a sphere of fire that, when it collided with the Skum positioned behind Fleur detonated with a flash of conflagration. "Get down!" He said, reaching out to snag her by the arm and pull her down to him - beside him, on him, wherever was available to put space between her and the Skum.

The skum with its injured hand sunk back into the deep, swimming about in unbridled fury as it sought a way back up to its surprisingly difficult prey. As Brais detonated a sphere of fire at the Skum behind Fleur he lit its scaly flesh on fire, the horrifying shriek that it emitted wet and childlike. Desperately it dove back into the water to extinguish the flame..and with the appearance of fire...the skum left the entirely too dangerous foes alone.

This seriously was the extent of her patience and with a curse of volatile proportions, the normally restrained and serene sorceress shouted out the next spell in a voice that brooked absolutely no disagreement. A blue energy shimmering up into existence, and slamming into place around them, quite clearly a shield of some potency as the very wind seemed to be turned aside. Shivering violently against him she wiped a hand across her bloodied chin and made a face, "I think you failed to mention a few things.?

He wrapped his arms around her, instinctively trying to protect, and was momentarily astonished as the blaze that erupted was thwarted by her potent shield. He laid back, breathing heavy with only the slightest hint of a wheeze, and looked down at her with just his eyes. "Did I? What where those things?"

The Flesh Wound was a putrid place filled with disgusting denizens. The title of the tavern alone spoke clearly as to its clientele.

She'd been staying within its walls for two weeks now and had done her best to blend in. The cloak she had liberated from a drunken prostitute for the price of a sleep spell hid her well. It stunk of alcohol and the secretions of illicit transactions that occurred in dark alleys but to a woman who had lived in captivity for centuries such a little price seemed easy enough to pay.

Her hair, normally a glorious red had been bleached, poorly, and now hung in platinum -white dirty tresses that hadn't seen a comb in days.

She was careful to keep her head low and her power hidden. The tender at the bar, a middle aged paunchy man missing three fingers on his right hand and oddly enough named "Paw", seemed to have taken a liking to her and she did nothing to discourage him. To him she was just another down on her luck Nexus noob who had been falling lower ever since she fell through the portal to this world.

She let the tale take on a life of its own and spent most days huddled within the bug infested room in the back. The nights, however, were spent fostering escape routes and intricate traps for those students foolish enough to continue to pursue her. She knew it was only a matter of time before Arkon decided he'd played enough at this game.

The locket about her neck held a strange luminescent green liquid that bubbled and pooled within the miniscule chalice. She fingered it when she was lost in thought much like now.

When he did catch up with her... she'd die before she went back there.

Sometimes she wondered why she still struggled for survival. As she sat upon the dingy pallet she watched a beetle skitter ever closer before bringing her heel down upon it. As it squished beneath her weight she felt the pressure of the Shaitan closing in around her and felt a flash of pity for the insect that seemed to share her ill luck.

Better to end this now...

Her gaze drew downward to the necklace and its potent charm.

...and her suddenly trembling fingers fisted away from it as she shot up off the makeshift bed.

No.

No, she would fight and flee to the bitter end.

Discovery at the Flesh Wound (Part 1)
The Arrival

Uziya had kept the cloak wrapped tightly around him for a number of reasons. One was because of the chill. The cold air ripped through material to abuse naked flesh with an obsession, and if there was one thing that could screw up a spell, it was trembling lips. Also, there was the concealment it offered. Their travel through the WestEnd was covert and intended to draw as little attention as possible. He wasn't very fond of hoods, though this was one of the rare occasions where he made an exception. He saw the figure standing outside of the building where they were supposed to meet the contact and headed that way. He made no move to embrace Tiatari in any way. He never wanted L'loris to find out that they were lovers out of fear that she would use that against them one day. He moved beside her, enshrouded by his cloak. "Sorry." He replied, his eyes moving to where she said the Infernal Elf was located to study the dive. "That bad?"

The call had come in while she was in the middle of a class at Barud Das, one did not interrupt Arkon Daraul for anything, no matter how pressing. The frustration she felt at having to wait to follow through on the signal had nearly destroyed her sanity. She was riding a nervous high of tension and anxiety and really could use a reassuring touch by Uziya but didn't dare for the same reasons he had. She gave the contact a dismissive glance, not out of any sense of rudeness but because she was so internally focused on what was going on inside the horrid little building across the way. It was in there that she would discover her nemesis and maybe put a stop to all of this chasing. "Thank you." A cold edge to her words.

Zephyr shared a look with the hotness who accompanied the icy little debutante. Standing there in her stiletto heels and excuse for a dress she should've been freezing and yet the wind around her was a desert heat, a brief stir sending her black hair feathering upward. There was an empty soullessness to her chocolate eyes that spoke of death and disinterest and it leveled briefly upon Tiatari before Uziya's presence eclipsed her again. "You seriously need to get laid. It would take the edge off."

Though which one she spoke to was anybody's guess.

From his pocket Uziya drew the gem infused with the detection magic, its warm touch confirming the woman's words. He turned to Tia and gave her a quick nod. Immediately he was looking over the face the building, finding exits and escape points that would need to be covered. In the back of his mind he was preparing illusionary magic that would conceal the actual terrain outside, but that wouldn't be cast until they were on their way in. Subconsciously he had taken a drifting step toward the scantily clad woman, though only because the air around her was a relief from the bitter cold.

Tiatari noticed the predatory look in the woman's eyes. It seemed everybody saw Uziya as a prize to be had and sometimes she found herself questioning the wisdom of having such an attractive partner. Jealousy was a distraction she couldn't afford. Even as she had the thought she felt a surge of irrational anger at his nearness to the stylish woman, dove grey eyes flashing silver. "You're sure she's in there."

He found the question odd, having never known her to second guess him. Perhaps she simply did not see his nod. He said nothing, letting the woman confirm her claim.

((Fantastic Roleplay, Adapted from Liveplay - Thanks to all involved!))

The Discovery at the Flesh Wound (3)
An Unwelcome Party
(Part 1)

Just another night at the Flesh Wound. Slavers, druggies, pimps, prostitutes, and the other dregs of society had gathered for their own particular brands of entertainment. L?loris would normally not have ventured out of her backroom if it were not for the magically empowered singing of one of the travelers who had stopped in for the night. Her bardic talent had been a joy that had moved many, and caught the attention of some that would have been best to have overlooked. But that was the least of the infernal elf's problems.

So close to their target, Uziya was hard-pressed to deny Tiatari that moment of joy. She was so somber in her astute study that, to see her abandon it for bliss was a welcomed change. He let her drag him a few feet before pulling away, falling into step beside her and crossing the street for the main door. Just before they arrived he finished his quiet incantation and unleashed a magical illusion that spanned the entirety of building's main face. Any who peered through the windows facing north out of the bar would be met by the sight of a jagged brick wall flush up against it, leaving no room between the two.

Tiatari admired his flare. He really was a brilliant illusionist and of course he came with the endorsement of the Mastema himself. Containing her grin she pulled her hood up and relied on the mundane to keep her hidden as she was afraid a good illusion spell might draw L'loris' attention. Entering with Uziya and braced for anything.

He stepped inside, the scent of urine and acidic smoke overwhelming his olfactory sense. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting; though once it did it was hard not to be disgusted by what lingered within. He recognized the cloak that stood before him, and though she had her hood drawn he was certain it was Fleur. She had hesitated within the door, overcome by the setting. A very little known fact about the Sorceress was her privileged background. She'd never been in such a place as this and it showed in the awkward and tense way that she stood transfixed. He paused, his arm sliding out and across Tia's svelte form with a head tilt toward the small figure before them to answer the questioning look he knew was coming. Whoever it was, he didn't want them aware of their arrival.

L?loris almost smiled as Paw was giving one of the cardplayers the stinkeye, a surefire sign that he'd caught onto a cheater who was about to make things tense when the congregation in the doorway drew her attention. Fury flashed in her ice blue gaze. They stood out and it was something quite simple really. No magic gave them away, or even their actions...but something so mundane. Their footwear. None who visited the Flesh Wound possessed such clean and tidy, shiny and elegant, untarnished and fashionable Footwear. She hissed in a sharp breath as she felt the noose tightening around her. A finger gliding between the chain about her neck and the poison it held. Before her the slaver who was glaring at the man cheating caught her hiss, and she nodded, lifting her voice to carry, "Aye yer right to glare man, he's got the card in his lap." And in that simple statement she lit a match to the room. Violence exploding in accusations, curses, attacks and defenses. The entire card table upending as weapons drew, spells cast, and people cursed. It was like a ripple, ricocheting through the surface of the room as the riot started. Not about to leave it to something that simple, she cast and the raw edge of Animosity and Suspicion descended upon the masses.

The Discovery at the Flesh Wound (5)
Making Good on her Escape
(Part 1)

"No!" A single word, though its entirety was ripped between two places - the inside of the Inn and just outside its door. He torqued his body and twisted away from her, sprinting for the door with desperation as another series of spells were mulled over. "The back!" He said to her just before disappearing inside. "Cover the back!"

L?loris had drawn in the heat of the area to aid in her teleportation and was already stepping through her gate through the plane of fire when Uziya's spell cut off her escape as surely as if he'd slammed the door in her face. Panic seized her and she spun and fled out the back door. Never one to rely only on one trap, one route, or one safety net, she had her path laid out and was out the door in the alley and sliding into the gutter in a matter of minutes. Disappearing into the sewers and speeding through them in a dead run.

Tiatari was already wrapping the electrical braided loop about herself and skipping through space to arrive at the back door. Desperate excitement clawed at her composure and she arrived in the alley, spinning around in a circle as she searched for a sign of her escape. She sensed no teleportation but she didn't possess Uziya's orb.

Attention was split. Just as he saw L'loris race toward the back door he caught sight of Fleur in immediate peril and had no time to choose...luckily, he didn't have to. Another spell was cast, a familiar one had mastered long ago, and stepping form him with a gelatinous air was another humanoid form that was identical to him. "See to Fleur!" He commanded the sentient image as he knocked a few stumbling brawlers out of the way. "Get her to safety!" He sped away, going through the back door in pursuit.

The weight of the structure collapsed around her and she stumbled to her knees beneath the hail of smoldering wood. Abandoning her casting to raise her hands in protection she chastised herself for going with a deflection spell aimed at spellcasting and not one to protect herself from the physical. The internal condemnation lost as something struck her and sent her into blissful unconsciousness.

Uziya nodded to his master and turned for Fleur. He moved across the room to where she lay and began shoveling away the debris with his hands. Once she was free he scooped her up and turned toward a door away from the chaos. Ducking and weaving through those still entangled within the Inn, he moved her to safety.

What irony, to be safely escorted to a back room within the Flesh Wound that had once housed the woman who caused all of this trouble. The pallet that the Uziya clone tucked her away on having been the safe harbor of the infernal elf for a couple of weeks now. Still unconscious Fleur had no idea that Uziya2 stood guard over her or even that Tiatari was now surrounded by danger, or that even worse, L'loris was making good on her escape once again.

The Discovery at the Flesh Wound (7)
Making Good on her Escape
(Finale)

***********************

She was fast. She was desperate. And she was a survivor. She splashed through the refuse littered waters and avoided the pitfalls. The mini-traps, the shockingly deep spots. Ever onward and deeper within West End. She needed the oddity that was the area to protect her. No longer able to teleport herself she could not allow her pursuers their own magic either.

Uziya followed her sounds, the audible pathways elongated by the natural echo chamber of the sewer pipes. He was moving quickly, finding glimpses of her just as rounded corners or fading images of her shadow. He pursued her with just as much desperation, determined to end this once and for all.

Before her was a drop off and one that was infamous for the pool below that was the hunting grounds of some long forgotten predator. As she rounded the corner, she shot out a hand behind her, "Ice." As far as flashy incantations went it was not one. But a demand that was answered despite the fluctuation that was infamous here within this unknown element. She was taking a big chance heading into this black hole. The dripping wet pathways slicked over behind her, turning into black ice and hopefully into a slide that would end her pursuit.

She didn't wait around to discover if she were successful, fleeing down the corridor and back, crisscrossing through the several tunnels and overpasses when need be.

He hit the ice, which instantly took his feet out from beneath him and send him sliding for the pit. The instant panic was quickly swallowed as he sought another spell, the incantation finding his lips just before he went over the edge, stealing him from the slope, and replacing him at its start. Thankful for instant teleportation, a spell that was still part of his arsenal, he made his way along the edge of the ice and down the corridor. Time was suddenly working against him. The longer she had to plot an escape, the more likely he wouldn?t be able to stop it. This was her playground. He was only visiting.

And an unwanted visitor at that. She wasn't a fool and knew her delaying tactics were just that. She'd just needed enough time to get him to where she wanted him. Upward she climbed now and through the grated pass she pulled herself, an illusion descending upon her features and altering herself. Again a risky proposition within West End but for now it seemed she was being rewarded for her desperate persistence. Within the courtyard of a well known slaver she appeared. Her simple alterations having gifted herself with a youthful innocent version of herself. It didn't take the guards long to notice her there by the grate and the shouts raised the alarm. For all the world she looked like one of the slave girls venturing for an escape. She was apprehended and drawn back within the well guarded compound for her punishment. Several of the Cambions released to scour the tunnels and passageways to see if she had any aid and to quickly dissuade such endeavors.

Had it not been for the gem in his hand he would have ran right passed the rungs leading upward to the street level grate. He reversed direction and started up, taking two rungs at a time, he needed to expedite the travel if he were to catch her. He arrived just in time to see the young girl taken captive by her would be masters, his adept eyes seeing right through the illusion by means of a true vision spell that was constantly in effect. He almost emerged, willing to bet his prowess against that of the lone cambion who initiate her capture, though this thought was quickly doused by the emergence of a half dozen more, all of them brandishing swords and malevolent glowers. He ducked a bit more, and as they made their intentions to clear that they would scour the sewers, he descended quickly within and began back up the way that he came, creating an imaginary landscape to fool their eyes into believing there was nothing out of place. He sighed, giving yet another round to the elusive infernal elf.

The hunger that clutched her belly into a hard knot had finally drew her from her protective coma. The sleep of an infernal elf was not truly sleep at all but a communion with her ancestors. It was this that had sustained her in the neverending days of her initial confinement. And, now that she'd discovered herself in yet another prison she had slipped gratefully back within the memories of a world once populated with her people. Before the Dragon Wars. Before the duplicity of the Dark Elves.


Before she'd quit living. For while she was alive, L'loris was not living. She felt nothing. A deep unending pit sat where her heart had once beat, her emotions never moving past the lower registers. She felt anger, frustration, pride even, fear, and even a hint of regret...but they were held in reserve for when she was simply reacting to something.


Like now. Reacting to the need of sustenance. As the Cambion guard entered her room, she waited and watched for her chance. She was not their usual target, though her appearance had suggested a status of run away.

Truth being that she was definitely an orphan. Lost, alone, unthethered, connected to none other.

Pleased to see her crystalline blue eyes awake and alert the cambion smiled.

She did not.

The inundation of emotion was easily dispersed. She felt nothing despite the pressure the Cambion exerted to twist and distort her feelings to a more carnal nature.

Confusion marred the reptilian features as it sensed lack of interest. Frustration had it reaching for its whip and as it sauntered behind her, L'loris decided she'd played captive long enough.

Turning flame blue eyes over her shoulder she placed a quaver in her words, "Please...please...."

At the first expression of emotion from the captive, the Cambion grinned and revealed a mouth full of sharp teeth. The whip hand drew back to deliver the first slicing blow when he found himself sinking into the fiery depths of her gaze.

"...die." Her gaze emanated a blistering glow of fire that seemed to connect with his own, his body jerking up on its toes as if a current was lashing through it. Smoke poured from his mouth, steam rippled from his eyes, and the smell of cooked flesh permeated the small prison.

L'loris closed her eyes and the searing heat dissipated, the body of the Cambion slumping empty of life.

She wasted no time, the dark necromantic chant spilling from her lips. Conjuring forth a loyal spirit, she coaxed it to take up residence inside the discarded remnants of her would-be captive.

As it rose jerkily to its feet, she barked the first of her orders, "Unbind me."

Freedom drew circulation back to tortured limbs and she winced in a rare display of pain. Rubbing a hand along one aching wrist she reached within to summon the power of planar traveling, it was time to get out of this place and get further away from the designs of the Dark Mage.

As the fiery portal was birthed before her she felt a seismic shift, a power slamming into her, doubling her over, dropping her to her knees as the door before her shimmered like a mirage and whispered from her consciousness. "No!" She gasped.

Again she tried to summon the door to the Elemental plane of fire that was her natural inborn right...and nothing...

..."No..." She whispered in despair, turning a desperate gaze upon her reanimated servant as if he possessed the answer for her sudden loss of power.

And it was then that the dual nature of Arkon Daraul's twin purposed spell slammed into her mind, scattering her thoughts to the wind, scrambling her memories, destroying her tenuous grasp on sanity and rending her into forgetfulness.