Silver Leaf Chronicles: War Beckons

[LimeyPanda]

As Dra'lix became more and more entranced in his own song, his eyes closed and his thoughts drifted back to times before, the memories of his time in the forest his Mother called home. Val'shiaa had always been such a tranquil place: one that soothed the young mage. His mother's voice seemed to mingle with his own in the hazy memory, the beauty and serenity of her voice channelling into his as the song that had meant so much in his youth echoed from his soul. The words were foreign to most; the language of the Wild’har had so rarely left the confines of their forest homes. When it did, the reaction was often mixed. Some found it a guttural language, full of animalistic sounds and tones and words that didn't seem fit for the human tongue. Others found it to be a beautiful and natural dialect. Filled with intricacies that made common seem closer to a bawling baby's babbling than an actual language.

In the Third choral point, Dra'lix's eye peeked open and, much to his shock, he spotted a startling sight: A woman whose size was well over a head above his own. The sight of the tattooed woman, sitting calm and wide eyed opposite him made his tone falter, if only for a second, and he noticed a slight change in her calmed demeanour. It was clear that she had only sat opposite because of the heartfelt song he was happily sharing: So redoubling his efforts, he regained the lost melody of his voice, aiming to finish the song to perfection. He closed his eyes firmer, not because he was thinking of the memories of his distantly located mother, who likely still sat in the confines of her hut in the forest, or hunted a savage beast in the forest, but because if he opened his eyes: he'd be caught staring at the somewhat intimidating huntress opposite him. He was once again thankful for his race. Since Mandi-har, being so dark skinned, did not have the ability to blush. Were he any other race, his cheeks would be crimson at the realisation that someone had not only noticed him singing amongst the hub-bub of the crowd, but had taken the time to engage him so that they could listen. He had rarely shared anything of his artistic side with any audience: let alone complete strangers. He had only sung on impulse, emboldened by his morning ritual and hiding under the knowledge that most people simply wouldn't hear or wouldn't care about his song.

As his lullaby reached his Climax and his voice fell silent, Dra'lix held his eyes shut for a few more seconds, affording him the opportunity to regain some of his composure before starting the ever daunting task of striking conversation with the woman opposite him. He had no idea who or what she was apart from a few rumours about a hulking human woman who went by the name of 'Daisy.' He assumed that she was the one that people whispered about. Saying slanders about her 'dim nature' and her 'cursed form'. The Mandi-har would not believe slander of any form about a woman, especially one whose form was so intimidating. The Racial traits had him believe that all women were deserving of respect. No matter race, religion or any other factor. He recalled a saying of his father: 'To make a great man, a woman must have laboured for months on end. To make a great woman, a man has only to do one tiny deed.' The irony of the joking phrase was not lost on Dra'lix, but it was certainly a witty way to put it.

Opening his eyes, Dra'lix took a moment to analyse Daisy, to take in the muscular form of the woman who had become his audience. She was a truly fierce looking woman and he didn't doubt that, should she desire to: he would make remarkably easy and remarkably boring prey. He didn't know what to say to the woman though. She shared no common ground with him other than an appreciation for music. Her eyes widened as she stirred from her otherwise bewitched state. She looked the mage over, as if deciding whether to take offence in his presence. Dra’lix could only give a respectful nod to the woman, after a moment, the giantess would nod in return. A sign that he’d passed the first test. The next step was a far more complex one: different women demanded differing second steps of respect. Working on the assumption that she was a huntress, the next step would be to try and provide something to the woman. To try and sooth her from the standing position into one that would ease her: to that means, he called upon his reserves of magic, deciding to use the simplest form of magic he had.

Telekinesis is a reasonably easy magic to use and a fairly easy one to comprehend. He used it to steal a plate of food from the side, cooked meats and fresh fruits piling onto a plate as if guided by the hands of a hungry phantasm. The plate was then brought to the table and placed in between them with a delicate 'thud'. The magic itself was fairly bland, untouched by the gods. It had neither darkness nor light in its hold, and due to its unknown nature would have the opposite effect to what Dra’lix wanted; the woman seemed tenser by his frivolous use of magic, Much to Dra’lix’s annoyance.

Realising he’d need to defuse the situation, Dra’lix reached for an apple, the Dark skinned elf would take a bite, then, with an open gesture, he'd offer the same plate of food to the woman opposite him. It was a simple act, offering food and proving its safety was one thing: but the woman seemed to get outraged by the act, her heckles raised at the act of innocent ignorance. She bore the look of a hunter, so maybe having to eat such trivial food would be a bore to her. Maybe she would refuse to eat anything that she did not hunt: it was impossible to guess though. She bore a look of annoyance, of mild disgust at Dra’lix’s ignorance to the culture she hailed from. The rules of Ishlaun were nowhere near as strict in the regards of Mandi culture; mainly due to the fact that it was such a diverse culture. Dra’lix felt he needed to reach a new level of communication; something that would distract her from her lack of knowledge about the culture she was so used to.

Reaching a hand up to his face, he ran three fingers over his tattoo, forcing him to close one of his eye lids as he sketched the claw mark tattoo that adorned his face. He spoke up; not knowing the woman was a mute. " I got this tattoo as an honour to my mother. She is a hunter in her tribe. " Pausing for a moment, he raised the same fingers that had traced his tattoo and pointed at one of her own. " what do yours mean? " Dra'lix looked at the woman, not sure how she would react: if she would react. He struck gold as the woman seemingly gained an interest as he explained about the tattoo marking. His finger was pointing to a marking on her arm, a band that looked foreign to him. He’d seen many Mandi style tattoos in his time, some of the tattoos were recognisably of that style, although he didn’t know what they meant to her. It was the more unusual ones that interested him.

Dra’lix would watch as Daisy attempted to communicate with him, fascinated by the way she tried to communicate her meanings and conveying the meaning of the tattoo without the use of words. Dra’lix would feel crippled without his words; words were the artistic representation of thought: words were so powerful! Without them, the Mandi-har would feel utterly naked. Daisy spoke through different utterances; Grunts and clicks and whistles which Dra’lix failed to understand. A look of mild frustration crept over Dra’lix futile attempts at understanding. As annoyed as his facial expressions conveyed, Daisy wore a face of mild amusement: as if used to the phenomenon. Slowly she started whistling. The tune was at first shaky and off, an un-sprouted weed of knowledge that rapidly grew as it was sustained by Daisy’s tune. The song echoed a popular Mandi-har tune, a tune of battle; of marching and drumming and the pursuit of Mortina’s perfect nullification. Dra’lix smiled broadly, understanding on his face for the first time. “ I get it, it’s a war tattoo; maybe in honour of a good fight? Or perhaps a good hunt? ” He pointed to another unfamiliar tattoo, another which screamed of being uniquely unfamiliar to the Mandi-har, eager to continue the conversation.

Before Daisy started the chant for whatever other tattoo he’d pointed out, Dra’lix’s attention was caught by something else: A presence that was altogether unfamiliar to him. Turning his head he spotted the woman, pilfering food. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the ferocious noise emanating from Daisy. It was clear the behemoth was after blood for a transgression the elf was unaware of. He would probably not have intervened, were it not for her many curious features; her oddly coloured hair: grey despite her seemingly young age, her pretty face and, most peculiar and most fascinating to the Elf, mismatched eyes. He could instantly recognise her as a half-breed. It was a cruel moniker, but it was the only accurate one: His own unusual eyes a reminder of the inescapable nature of heritage. He stood from his seat, looking at the woman who had seemingly stumbled in on the group. She didn’t wear the clothing of a member of the Silver Leaves, although it seemed nigh-impossible for her to have snuck in.

Looking at the woman, staring into her mismatched eyes with his own diamond like eyes, Dra’lix offered a place at the table with a wave and a gesture. “ Come, sit. You can be a guest of Daisy and I. Share some of the food, I got it to be shared anyway. ” His looked at the behemoth, trying to flatter her. If the woman was the shared guest of the elf and the huntress, that would mean she couldn’t be any sort of intruder. As difficult as it was, Dra’lix was attempting to defuse a potentially volatile situation with just a few words. If it would work was yet to be seen. It would depend on the reactions of the two women.

[Hellis]

What happens when two Huntresses share the same room? What happens when a possible prey enters the equation? Well, one thing that happens is that it unerves a Tindra something fierce. Iano was grasping his Wild friend by wrist to try and keep her from using him as a springboard. Last thing anyone needed was a blood bath to start the day. Instead Ianos eyes were fastened on their intruder. She had boldly stolen food right in front of them. More then one bow was at the ready, many a sword had been drawn. The air was thick with ill intent. Iano himself had his other hand on the cleaver strapped to his back. This one was far less welcomed then the Wild Har that Iano shared a past with.

“Lil Miss” A strong, commanding voice rang out. A voice that turned out to be a female, Haulintar accent from the sound of it. But the woman herself was clearly a shadow borne. With pale skin and black hair. It could only be Isabelle G'voir. Ianos eyes shifted as the highest ranking officer present calmly strode up from where she had been sitting with some others from the top brass. The whip wrapped around her waist had killed more men and women then Iano knew how to count to. There was an air of confidence around her. Confidence in her skills, in her calling as a soldier. Each step clicked against the stone floor, her riding boots were sturdy things that covered half her legs, compete with greaves. Her arms adorned in leather and metal both. What always got to him was the way her eyes were completely white. She was blind, yet he never once seen her stumble. Her gift from the gods, sight beyond sight. She had offered her sense of sight to the god of death, and was given something far more powerful in turn. She could see people as her Goddess saw them, saw their possible deaths, their very essence and soul. And it made her that much more terrifying.

“You seem lost. I am not sure we should offer you the blade, or a seat like the kind man offered. And If you are here to join, there are better ways then manipulating my poor retarded sentinels out there. “ She actually grinned at the last words and Iano could only pity the man who let this woman into the keep. Isabelle would have his hide for this. Isabelles voice suddenly dropped to near baritone levels of depth.

” As it is now, you will die the moment you turn around. So don't. For your own sake. Daisy can leap that distant easily. The little gold skinned thing is pretty fast on his feet to and loves a good chase. And I dont think I have to explain just how bad it is to be up against the forests own natural archers. Not to mention the mages and assassins present. Only a grain will pass trough the hour glass and then it is Bye, bye my pretty little bird.” Each word was spoken between the rhythm of her heels. Every line was a nail in the coffin that she was building for their intruder. This was not common arrogance... This was the combined confidence of everyone in this room. They were elites, even the rookies and Isabelle respected every single one of them for their abilities alone. She spoke like a commander, there was pride in her words.

“So. How about you have a seat. Or would you like me to give the word?” As she raised her hand there was the clatter of drawn swords all over the mess hall. “I can't promise a swift death. No. my eyes see many possible deaths in you. None of them of old age. Most of them at the hands of Daisy” Iano could see a smile creep up on his Instructors lips. Now he was starting to worried. Had Lady Isabelle gone mad? She never seemed like the type to snap.

Then. Isabelle was within striking Distance herself. Whip uncoiled and hanging from her hand. A bullwhip so heavily enchanted it rend metal. Iano only then realized that the entire time, she had been weaving a spell. The rhythm. It was like a unspoken incantation. He was sure the mages must have felt it. He himself had no talent in it, so he only now realized it. But She had bound the girl in place from the moment she started speaking, in order to get in close enough. It had disspersed when she uncoiled the whip.

“Decision time.” Isabelle smiled.

[Noxious]

Iano’s mentor, being the first of the large group talk to her was given her attention. She didn’t flinch at the mention of sharing a bed with Iano, though while the mentor spoke Lin was attempting to focus on his eyes. She had already seen the mentor fight and held enough respect that subconsciously she raised her chin, almost imperceptively, to expose her neck. It was a sign that could be seen as a forfeit, but in this situation it was an offering of respect and trust. Iano had begun making a joke at her expense about sleeping in houses, she never had before, but her attention began to go towards the others in the room. She knew a few of them were watching her still and she slipped her arms behind her back, her right hand cradling her left elbow in what looked to be an almost self conscious stance. It was an action the Wild’Har usually reverted to when surrounded by another tribe to show a stilled violence. She wasn’t tied, but her hands were occupied, she wasn’t trying to incite a war within this tribe, and she could tell from the air that this was an exceedingly aggressive tribe. The taste in the air was screaming for war and it excited the lithe Wild’Har, reminded her of a barely controlled chaos.

She swept the room quickly, stopping for a brief second on the figure of the white haired Wild’Har who was seated next to a dwarf. She was suspicious immediately of any of her kind that weren’t well, wild; thinking he must have done something to get banished, and she doubted it was something as noble as her own act. She then rested on the form of the human hunter. She stared, probably longer than was polite, but the woman seemed to be the perfect creature and her caramel lips curled once again, ah today had been one of surprises. Daisy seemed to be the beautiful tool of the God of Destruction, every detail designed to express the purity of assault. Lin saw images of the raging winds that tore apart towns, the earthquakes that shook the earth. If ever she had wanted to proclaim a messiah, now was the time and Daisy was the visage. She looked to see who the warrior woman chose as company and raised a brow.

She had never before seen a mixed breed of any kind, especially not one that shared her blood line and so it was unfathomable that they even existed. This thing must be something else. She could pick out tones of what he was singing and behind her back one of her fists clenched as she almost teetered towards anger, but it subsided into the same confusion over his race as she heard the delicate tones that she had never heard an outsider able to touch. Daisy spoke and more confusion covered her tattooed face, creases in her brow bending the green lines and dark toned skin. Once the little, she had not been in the city long enough, the two-toned eyed one who belonged to another unknown race had distracted the attention of the table she’d been watching she released her arms from behind her back. Iano had grabbed her arm, though it really wasn’t necessary, yet, she was more than willing to watch the human specimen of destruction annihilate the little thing from right where she stood.

She noticed the little two-toned eyes seemed a bit skiddish, tsk tsk, all the more prey looking to Daisy and she was about to start silently creeping closer, now she realized while Iano had taken her arm into his hand, when Isabelle sliced through the tension like a butcher knife. It seemed all eyes went to the woman and while she talked Lin’s head tilted to the side in puzzlement and awe. This woman had just captured an entire room it seemed and Lin was fascinated. This woman must be the leader of this tribe. She let her eyes scan over the woman, stopping on the eyes. They seemed in entire opposition to the dark dark eyes that she owned. She didn’t like how much this woman talked and her face began to fall into a frown when she realized this woman was not going to join the fray, but intended to defuse the situation. She continued to watch the woman and awaited both the little two-toned eyes and the warrior woman’s reaction, though she no longer held a smile thrilled for a fight and instead had resigned herself to hoping the intruder ran.

[Hymusia]

For a moment she was stunned, everyone seemed non-plussed about her entrance, she had just walked into a supposed Elite force of people without so much as breaking a sweat. Sure she'd had to use magic but their defence was weak, they might have all these people here but she could have destroyed this place and been out if she were a hostile force. Let's face it everyone seemed to be in here shovelling their well cooked food into their faces and laughing gaily. Then again perhaps the fighting wasn't as bad here as it was elsewhere, or perhaps these well bred, well kept, ingrates were ignorant of the suffering of their people. It wasn't that she looked down on them however, they were respected to the four corners of the land, they had built their name from the ground up and deserved everything the rumours uttered. However upon seeing them she was less impressed than she'd hoped to be.

Finally someone reacted to the little rat that had snuck in, a deep growl that came rumbling from the mammoth, had of course she been concerned about the huntress she would have perhaps reacted with a little humility, instead she seemed to smile and tilt her head. As if confronted with a stray dog, or something else that was mildly amusing. She understood, hunt to eat, contribute to eat, it was the way of the pack, however these people had ample, more than they needed, far more. Her people, the people on the street, the down trodden, the broken, the imprisoned, they'd have killed for these peoples table scraps and in return they'd be treated as less than people. How amusing it was for a guild who claimed to help people to be so hostile to a person in need, what more did she expect though? She came from no background, she had no name other than the scrawled name on torn and broken parchment that may or may not even help her now.

Finally though there was a glimmer of hope in this rabble of alpha's, one who looked upon an omega with a dash of kindness. Surprisingly to Murr it was the Mandi who had been singing, she didn't understand the words but the meaning conveyed without them. He offered her food and a seat, male Mandi were of course generally submissive and he seemed to be alone without a female of his kin around. Perhaps the mammoth was his leader now. Perhaps...I was wrong about... A sheepish smile had formed at the corners of her lips, and she had readied an answer that was in part sarcastic and grateful all the same.

However her thought was never finished and her words were not spoken as some hoity woman decided it was her turn to speak up instead. At first Murr was happy to listen, but then her brows furrowed and the smile disappeared into the creases of a frown. Slowly Murr folded her arms, spell or not she was standing her ground and hadn't moved a muscle as the commanding woman strutted forward. “Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Her friends in the prison had taught her many a lesson, as had Mara. She watched as the woman continued to spew bile and threats and slowly Murr's brow increased ever upwards until it all but reached her hair line.

She glanced only briefly to the whip as it was uncoiled, otherwise ignoring the sound of weapons drawn and bows cocked around her, her eyes simply on the woman in front of her. Murr unfolded her arms, thumbs slipping into the corners of her pockets, her movements slow, non-threatening. Once the woman was done with her little speech Murr tilted her cranium ever so slightly, as if waiting to see if there was more. Finally the half-breeds lips picked up in a smile again, one of wicked amusement, She had been raised by murderers and cut throats, she'd been trained by a mandi-Har. This woman was less than nothing.

She had not flinched, nor had she seem scared and even now she seemed thoughtful rather than concerned in any fashion. She'd fought every day of her life to simply exist, to have the right to simply exist. “Are you quite done?” She finally asked with a cool and smooth tone, she was non-plussed, “The fault does not lie in your sentry but your training of him. Your perimeter is lax and unprotected, I could have destroyed this building if my intentions were vile and you'd be buried under the rubble with a confused look on your pretty dead face.” She took a breath and released it slowly, as if she were dealing with a nuisance rather than a leader of the guild she wanted in on.

“Furthermore madam you have an interesting way of greeting new recruits, threats, petty violence and such a waste of magical energy. Did you expect me to run from you perhaps? Or be impressed? Cowed? It seems a childish thing for a Captain to do. Strength is not just with the fist and sword, true strength is far more impressive than any steel.” She almost seemed amused at the thought this woman expected her to run. “I entered the way I did as I would not be permitted by your guards erst-wise, even if I was would you take me seriously if I shuffled like a child through the front door? Would you believe me as I told you of my abilities if I did not first prove them to you? It was a calculated risk, not stupidity that made me enter how I did. Now if we could get passed all this nonsense and onto business, I was asked to find a commander and hand them this.” She took the paper out and offered the parchment to the woman, her other hand still resting at her pocket, she did though rock forward just a little and whispered, “And while your mammoth might well be able to leap this far in a single bound I guarantee I wouldn't still be standing here by the time she landed and it would be mighty difficult for you to catch me before you lost my trail completely.”

She didn’t seem arrogant mind you, no matter how it was interpreted by others she was stating what she saw as facts. The human huntress might be the best hunter in the world and could slay a demon from five hundred yards. However the Mandi-Har were quicker, more ruthless and far more adept at dealing with Murr's special talents than some lumbering wench who had just met her.

She seemed then to disregard the woman, though it was hard to tell with the block hued eyes that seemed to look everywhere and yet nowhere at once. “Mandi-Har.” She didn't know his name after all, “Your kindness is well met, tell me do you have a female you follow here or are you alone?” Again it was not arrogance and perhaps she would be cut down before her words could finish, or her thought for them for that matter. However Murr was not going to meekly wait for her sentence, instead unless the weather-bitten decided to grab her Murr stepped right passed the whip wielder and towards the seat the Mandi-Har had offered her, once again ignorant or unfazed by the threat of the swords and arrows aimed at her. Though she did keep track of the shadows, each one and the distance between them, she was fast but not fast enough to dodge all these people and the closer she got to the mammoth named Daisy the slimmer her chances of escape alive became.

Murr was perhaps a slight worried, she did not want to die but she would not actively fight it if it was ordained her time. If she were to get a position here, if she were to be taken seriously and not become the servant to all those gathered here. If she were to not become the butt of every joke and given the jobs no others would take she had to exude confidence, she had to prove not her physical strength but her will and determination, her mental strength. How far she would get was any ones guess and she personally did not think upon it.

[Hellis]

There was silence. Isabelle wasn't chocked at all it seemed. In fact, she was smiling trough the entirety of her little tirade. Bravery impressed her, stupidity did not. So now she was perplexed. She could not tell if this was a goddamn fool, or a new intell specialist for her ranks that stood in front of her. Not that she had trained the sentry herself, although, the girl could impossibly know that. But there was more then a few people that had kept their eyes trained on intruder since she had passed the gates. Never once was the bastion under any real threat. It was not like the entire keep was easy to topple. People had kept her informed of this Half-bloods progress trough the bastion. The girl had a bit of a point thou. They could not afford to be lax and their sentry ha fucked up. But insulting them in their own home? Oh this uppity little welp didn't know shit and clearly had some reality checks in order.

But teeth, oh she had plenty and she bit. She bit and she clawed with those words. Street mentality from the looks of it. There was no sympathy from Isabelle thou, street rat or not, this was her boys and girls that she insulted. Isabelle took a second then shot her hand up, snapping her whip around the girls neck. Then with a forceful tug, snapped her onto the floor. Iano didnt even catch the motion. And from the looks of it. She only move the arm.

“I was wrong. You are no bird. Bird sings, they are gracefull. They see and they know not to agitate a predetor . You however is nothing more then a dirty, filthy and full of yourself rat. Your hiss and claw thinking hissing and showing your claws equal strength. Because that's all a little rat knows. Isnt it?” She uncoiled the whip from MurrPaus neck. Instead she gave her a dissmive look. It seemed almost dissepointed. “Rules are different here. There is a chain of command. There are a order to thing. I realize you find it hard to believe it, but we had people following you from the time the sentry acted weird. Of course, you know nothing of actual military.. do you? New recriuts usually don't break and entry. They only get here by recommendation or if accepted by a rankin officer. You are currently neither.” She took a breath.

“What you are is unworthy of even stepping inside these halls. You'll be treated as a recruit when you show dicipline and manners. You was let in because I your kind is rare. Someone who can do that to our guards can be usufull”

“ I bet a few of your friends died getting you here? Did you kill them? Or maybe they died because of your ineptness to behave like a anything but a selfish rat? Nobody lives without a sacrifice or two.” She tapped the whip against her hip again. But any single movement to leave or pass her would be met with a lash from it.


“You think we'll just take in any little runt who enters? You think talking back to a superior officer in here is going to get you anywhere?” Isabelle raised a eyebrow. This was the true test for their little intruder. Was she going to curb that arrogant tongue and actually take in the situation? Or would she die here? Isabelle pressed on again. “ Did you for a second think your little act impressed any of us? Or that your little display of arrogance was going to be taken as anything but empty words? You are so painfully naïve, little rat.” Isabelle's word was far colder now. Aimed to press Murrpau “ I don't know who trained you, but they did a poor job. You see, I know a escaped slave when I see one, and you are nothing more then a mouthy brat with no respect. Why should we not just set you on one of the Mandi Corsairs boats? I am sure they would love a new toy.”

[Llayne]

Focused on filling his belly, Dalvarak was a little surprised when seemingly everybody in the common room, Kieran included, turned to face one corner. Many drew their swords, bows, or other instruments of death and destruction as if they were getting ready to repel a full on assault on the Bastion.

Kieran, although he had no weapon sitting at the table or even leaning anywhere nearby, suddenly had a bow in his hand. It was a polished, almost greenish-gray wood with thorn like protrusions along it's outer curve, and an arrow of the same wood was knocked and ready to fire. Where in Shadow's name did that come from?

The dwarf turned to see what everybody was focusing on and saw the odd looking Luni that he'd snatching up food when he walked in. What...? Did they just now notice her? He shook his head and chuckled, drinking the last of his lager. A barmaid stood nearby, fully transfixed by the spectacle taking place in the corner. She didn't even notice when Dal relieved her tray of two more lagers.

"Stand up you fool, that's Isabelle G'voir, one of our commanders!" Kieran said in a low whisper, so it wouldn't carry through the room.

"Oh, I see." Dal replied quietly, taking another sip of his lager. "And what, she's the greatest leader the Leaves have ever had or something?"

"No, she's not." Kieran answered in a low voice. "I've seen dozens of commanders in my time with the Silver Leaves, and there were a few who were living legends, and shook the world with their very footsteps." Oddly enough, Dal immediately keyed in on the 'dozens of commanders' comment. Even assuming it was all humans or other short lived races in charge of the Leaves, dozens of commanders represented a huge span of time. Exactly how long has Kieran been with the Guild anyway? Silently, as if he were talking to himself or didn't even mean to speak out loud, the white haired Wild Elf said, "But she could be."

Ignoring that for the time being, Dalvarak turned back to the scene and couldn't help but feel a bit sympathetic for the ugly little elf girl. Standing up for herself under a much greater force... force that went above and beyond that which a simple theft of food would warrant. He couldn't help but think about how Riorn had stood up to Ogr despite the odds stacked against them. Of course it will probably go as well for her as it did for us.

When Isabelle stopped talking the first time, the dwarf shook his head again and muttered into the uneasy silence. "Putting in more effort than this dirty little waif is worth." I mean really, I can see a few people brandishing weapons or intimidating stares, but most of the room? He downed some more lager, which was when the girl answered...

...and started to throw oil on the fire in which she was already standing.

The dwarf could give her a bit of credit for her initial plan, half thought out though it was. Sneaking into the compound was a good way to prove her skill and catch a little notice at the same time. Without a sponsor to bring her into the Guild, that little bit of dramatic flair could serve her well.

But he remembered her face when he first saw her, the slightest hint of surprise which was quickly covered up as she went for the food. He doubted she'd even cased the Bastion out. Mostly likely she impulsively went after the first opening she saw... having no idea what building was what or where she was even going... which is how she found herself in a room full of dozens of guild members. Not to mention having no idea what those guild members were capable of. Yeah, she's an amateur.

He'd also give her credit for keeping her cool. She seemed remarkably calm, especially considering the outright display of hostility she faced. Where ever it was she grew up, be it the streets, a pack of feral kids trying to survive in the wild, or whatever… she’d learned that at least. Predators can sense fear… be they wolves or humans… keeping calm was a survival trait.

But no, her failure was in misreading the situation, and being unable to change her tactics because of that lack of understanding. She was an alley cat trying to make herself big to scare off her attacker… completely unaware of the fact that she faced a pack of dire wolves.

It was funny that she mentioned steel being a measure of strength, because the best steel had give. If was flexible… something she had thus far proven not to be. Oh, she's hard… I'll give her that. And tough. But she was brittle, like poorly forged steel. Everything she’d shown them so far said she would rigidly stand against Isabelle, and she would break under the strain and her inability to bend.

Or perhaps not… perhaps she can finally grasp the situation she's in… perhaps she can bend. That was essentially the question the Silver Leaf Commander now posed to the skin and bones Luni… and it was a question Dalvarak was interested in finding out the answer to.

[Hymusia]

Even before the whip hit her throat she knew she'd made a grave error, this one would not be as easily swayed as those in the past. It had been a gamble that hadn't paid off and now she was going to seriously have to work to regain the ground she lost. Before she could think further though the whip was about her neck, cutting into her skin and considering the lack of distance between the pair she was amply surprised her head hadn't simply flown from her shoulders. Pain racked through her body as the metal burned into her flesh, constricting like the jungle pythons, her hands instinctively and uselessly flying up to try and alleviate the pressure and allow her ability to breath to her the next wave of insults. However it seemed that was not yet to happen as she was dragged to the floor at the feet of the warrior, left quietly choking as the dark crimson blood began seeping out from beneath the metal coils.

She could barely focus on what was being said as the oxygen to her brain was cut off and her mind fully focused on surviving and the manner in which to do so. She had made a huge mistake it seemed, this woman was quicker than she'd hoped, she hadn't even had time to react to the attack before she was dragged down like a common rat at the feet of the catcher. The insults didn't hurt, she'd lived with them for years, she knew what she was and she honestly didn't care. Not everyone could be high born royalty or some prodigy of this or that master, people had to suffer and be rats to let these people be wolves.

Perhaps the true aggression from this woman was not at the disrespect a little half-breed was showing but at that base truth. Murr was an ugly reminder of the fact that for these people to get by and survive in their little lap of luxury others had to suffer and die in the gutters. It kept her calm, kept her from breaking down and gave her time to think, that was what was needed now. Thought turned to action, not running her mouth, she needed to figure this out and quickly, though she was rapidly regretting believing anything she'd been told about the Silver Leaves. They were no better than a street crew, the only difference was these people had the money to look flash while they robbed you blind and the power to not go to prison for their deeds.

She planned to apologise, it would grate against her every nerve to do so but it was the only way she could see to escape this situation. If she bit back her pride and apologised for her outburst, put it down to terror and ill-thought out plans then perhaps she could make it work long enough to get out of here. Or better yet wait until she had the woman's complete trust, kill her in her sleep, then leave. Murr knew herself better than that though, even with as much vile hatred as she could conjure she'd never kill without a reason to and this woman hadn't given her one. She'd been rude, insulting, self-important and a piss poor copy of what she'd imagined the elite here to look like and act like but in the end it was Murr who had been in the wrong here.

“Did you kill them?” The words ripped through her calm and caused her hackles to immediately raise, “Or maybe they died because of your ineptness.” The words punched through her calm outer shell and struck her deep in her heart. The old man's face flashed before her again, his little smile as he fended off her perusers, she'd made such a base mistake, such an amateur mistake. She was so tired though, she'd been tired for months now, barely sleeping, running, never using her powers unless necessary to minimise exposure. She was hungry, tired and ready to cry even before she'd gotten here to suffer the abuse of these no nothing ingrates. The old man, sunken into his frame as he was, still looked like a regal knight in her mind, proud and strong, defender of the weak. Her hero.

He'd always been her hero, even in the prison, he was the one who had scooped her up and stopped the prisoner's from simply killing and eating her. He'd been the one to give up his rations to make sure she had some nutrition. He'd been the one who gave her a little kindly smile and ruffled her hair whenever she got flustered or sad. He wouldn't be able to save her this time, not now, he'd died and his death would always be on her hands. The blood on her fingers would never wash clean and in truth, she didn't want it too. It was all she had left, the scrap of paper and her endless guilt that he had died for her and now it appeared she hadn't even been worth dying for.

She had dropped the scrap of paper when the woman had thrown her down but it was still within reach of her fingertips, mismatched eyes focused upon it rather than the threatening woman as she reached for it. She wouldn't stay here, they weren't like him, she was foolish to think they would be, she was foolish to think she'd receive any other welcome after her entrance. There were no true knights any more, they all died for their charges, worthy or otherwise.

An interesting fact could be learned from observing her at this moment, when she cried this half breeds tears were black. A single tear slid form her black eye and stained down her cheek which was still crushed into the floor, it was too late now there was no going back, she'd die here. She knew it, now she simply had to make peace with the idea, her calm composure did not waver save that tear that few were likely to see, especially the blind woman. It would be a foolish thing to do, her hero wouldn't have wanted to this way but what choice did she have? What chance did she have? Even if she made it here they would treat her like filth, there would be no reassuring hair ruffles, no laughter for her to share with, no warmth for her to draw her strength from. He was the last one left and now he too was gone.

“I don't know who trained you, but they did a poor job.” It was the last straw, Murr had been planning to do something stupid since the insinuation she'd ever raise a hand to her friends but now she really was going too. They'd died for her, all of them, everyone she'd ever known and loved was dead. Some from old age, the prison, the dust, the slave escape. Everyone was gone, she'd been left alone in a world crueller than she was ready for and this glimmering crumb she'd been handed by a man she'd wished was her father was in fact nothing more than fools gold. She'd find no happiness her, no sanctity, she'd have rather gone back on the boats with the Mandi Corsair or back to the prison than be in such a cold unfeeling place.

Slowly the girl got to her hands and knees, ignoring the pain that throbbed through her neck, the torn and damaged skin red and angry already while her dark blood stained her coat and slipped down across her collarbone. She was still alive, it was likely the last thing she'd feel in this pathetic life but she would not abide this, she would not tolerate it. She was at peace, soon she'd rejoin all those she loved and missed, they'd be angry with her, furious. Especially him, his last breath, his remaining strength to give her a chance. How was he to know that the people he sent her too were no better than those that oppressed them in the Prison? Even the Mandi now had gone quiet, how easy it would have been to whip out and enslave his mind, force him to protect her but she wouldn't, it wasn't fair. I won't be the reason any one else dies.

“You can say what you like about me Miss, a street rat, no good, naive, inept, you think I have not heard all this and much worse?” She was still eerily calm, for those who could see such things though she was nothing short of a typhoon inside, her outer shell not more than the eye of the storm. [b] “I'll even agree with you, I am not a bird who signs sweetly, nor would I want to be. Flying high above the rest of the world a bird sees nothing of the suffering of rats and alley cats and nor do they care for it. I'd rather be a rat.” [/b] All trace of arrogance was gone, her tone so soft she sounded full of remorse, downtrodden, broken, submissive.

“There is though, just one thing I'd like to say Miss.” Her head rose then, the single stain of her tear levelling to blind eyes. The woman didn't need to see for this, not for this. “I have a present for you, I hope you like it, I don't want it anymore.” Her hand tightened around the paper, the distance wasn't great, it would be an ass to maintain but it would be enough, the only question now was whether it would be a sword or an arrow. Her mind focused in and as her fist tightened a noise only the two would percieve began. It was like the singing of a dire cricket, only it got louder and more intense and with this noise a heat flooded, followed aptly by a searing pain. This pain would be like nothing a person could dare try and describe. The closest any one would get to it was as if one could imagine hands tearing passed flesh and bone and reaching right down to the soul, spirit, essence, chi of a person. Then with the crawl hands of a spiteful child or the claws of a kitten ripping that essence apart. “Never insult him, he was a greater man than any of you can ever hope to be. He was everything to me, so don't you ever insult him!” Her calm façade broke and she was exposed for the terrified, distraught, tortured and now pissed off child she really was.

Despite her anger though she had a grasp of her power, somewhere between magic and science, somewhere beyond spirit and corporeal and she would hold this gift for as long as she could, she would never try to kill someone, not even this person, with her power, however she wanted this woman to know the extent of her suffering. The pain of course would only intensify as would the noise the longer it was kept going and the tighter Murr's grasp on the paper became. He had been everything to her, her idol, her savior, her knight, her father, her hero. His name could not be so poorly spoken of, she couldn't allow it, even if it was her own fault that his name was besmirched. The tears ran freely now, black against her pale cheeks, staining an interesting grey. So tired, so hurt and this place only tore open those wounds.

[inDefiance]

A guest.

Fuck. No.

This was a stranger. An outsider. A fucking dirty street rat intruding upon their place of nourishment, and as Dayselay had come to learn moments before, a place of kindness. And if you wanted that nourishment and kindness, you did not just take what you wanted. You had to earn it. Dra'lix was that kindness and he had offered the mangy stranger rat a place at his table. Oh, but Daisy was having none of it.

She was still standing when saw the little thief strike and wild blue eyes churning like a storm now, Dayselay had moved to interpose her huge form between Dra'lix and Murrpau; a physical act to cut off the golden-hearted gesture from the male Mandi over to the mismatched eyed female. If this stranger rat was to come and sit at the table as a guest, it would have the living shit stomped out of it as a fully accepted apology for taking what it did not deserve by the standards placed in these halls. Another low grumble from Daisy. A few clicks of her tongue intermingled with loud exhales of her breath.

'Very well then. Come over here and eat. And if you cannot eat with a swollen mouth filled with broken teeth, then you will not have apologized properly and Dayselay will force feed you another beat down.' This was the more elegant translation, if at all possible from Daisy's speech. The literal translation was this: "Okay. Get here. Eat. With broken mouth. Broken teeth. You cannot eat? Apology not accepted. You eat shit and Dayselay will break you."

But the she-beast had not even made her way through half of her intended spiel when all manner of weaponry became trained upon the mangy stranger rat. In the silence that ensued, Daisy could only glower at the thing as it held on precariously on its treasured chicken leg and sausage links. Then the voice that she never wanted to hear rung out clear as a bell sounding out another death amongst their ranks.


In the harsh clime and times of the Karlijas Isles was Dayselay raised. Back then the she-beast was but merely a shorn-headed girl-beast walking upon the white sandy shores of the cove. It was early morning, she remembered, and the hated golden shining thing had yet to breach the grey blanketing the sky. Waves tumbled against the natural breakwall, lapping against the rocks in sprays of salty frothy white. A gull cried out from above as two strong hands pressed down upon her shoulders. Face first into the sand she fell, obliging the firm shoves. The same strong hands pulled both her wiry arms behind her back and the mask was hooked to her face. Literally.

Just below the scalp, near her ears lining her cheekbones and all along her jawbone the sharp bone hooks dug into her pretty and young fresh face. They bled her as that voice presided on and on. That fucking voice. It was firm and commanding as it preached the benefits of following expectations; a good girl always listened. It was kind and sympathetic as it spoke of blood bonding those that were not of your litter; a good sister always loved. It was fierce and deadly as it spoke of failure to comply; a good woman always held the Truths. How many times had they bled her as that voice preached the same fucking thing. That voice. That fucking undeniable voice. It always spoke to her when she least expected it even into her young adulthood away from the Karlijas islands. The voice of the matriarch of their tribe. The voice of the Highest Mother. You must always listen to Mother and respect Mother's wishes. All good Maersevir did.

In the here and now, bushy lashes fluttered as the Shadowborne woman, Isabelle spoke. In the hear and now, Daisy had not passed her tests to become one of light yet and a Maersevir still was the she-beast. In the here and now, she could feel the mask, not the one the Mandi-Har put on her before a hunt or ritual, but the one that bled her into submission. In the here and now that voice spoke out of Isabelle's mouth drifted into the ears of the girl-beast. It was the voice of Mother and she could not resist it; a good Maersevir would always comply.

Comply.

Dayselay took two steps away from the table and bowed in respect and submission to the highest ranking officer here as the words of Isabelle commanded all ears to listen to her words. Into the ranks Dayselay fell, body wound up with the tension of a giant-made spring, wild blue eyes taking in all sights, ears perking up to take in all sounds, pierced nose inhaling, readied for the scent of blood being spilled violently and at an unstoppable flow.

She could hear her name being called, but that was not the sound she awaited. No, that was not true, she did await her name being called, but it was the just right inflection she awaited; the inflection in her Mother's undeniable voice to savage the prey. No, not kill it, but savage it first.

Heartbeats thudded in her chest as she complied and waited.

She listened in on the exchange of words between the pair of females, the blind eagle and the mangy stranger rat and her blood began to heat up like liquid in a cauldron held over an inferno. The she-beast was going to march up over to the fallen little ratty thing and stomp the fucking life out of it.

What a pathetic excuse for a living creature. No honour, no respect. At first it brazenly stole its way into here to take that which was not its right to comsume. Then it disrespected she who provided them with the right to eat here. And here it was now. Brought low and crying before it died all self-respect lost. What respect? This little shit was nothing but a self serving, self-pitying, self righteous pathetic animal. How in the fuck would it redeem itself to walk here without trust and loyalties? It simply would not. This was Dayselay's territory and it was not welcome. It was useless to anyone else here but itself and its own selfish desires. Die you little fucking little whiny cry-baby. Just die.

Then a strange thing happened to Dayselay. She caught scent of the other wild-smelling female and it her killing streak within her faded, showing with her slumping shoulders. A sudden realization nearly brought tears to she who did not cry. Dayselay should have ended up like that little whiny cry-baby that she so dearly wanted to kill only heartbeats ago.


This was a cruel world. And even though Dayselay was a deadly killer with the body of a monstrous female hunter, there were others that had got the best of her. She was naive and brand spanking shiny new to the outside world and so easily did they take advantage of her. She had no concept of the value of coins. She only knew that which was of most value to her: music. The she-beast traded away so much for such simple, beautiful, yet worthless sounding air. It was not until that time when all those males tried to mate with her when it clearly was not her breeding time that she figured out how much of a fool she had been taken for. Was that what song was worth to her? Losing her self-respect and dignity for them and their songs and music?

Fuck. No.

She was a penniless fool, scrounging out in this outsider world when she could easily be out in the forests eating like a queen. But no, she was following the fools errand to chase the vision set upon her by the Avatar of Light. But she would not quit. And she would never be made a fool again. And so with bloody red fury, she took it out on all of those males. She broke them into pieces as one another watched and screamed. Oh did they scream and oh did Dayselay smile.

Wild eyes cleared of dark memories and found her eyes upon the wild-smelling female and her strange smelling, genderless even, counterpart and saw for the first time the closeness between the two. That female should have ended up like Dayesely should have ended up. Out on the street, a fucking noob owned by the big bad world only to become like that mangy stranger streetrat. Doing anything and everything it could to survive.

Losing all self-respect.

But the wild-smelling female had someone here now. Someone, a Tindra, she could count on. Daisy suddenly knew and accepted that this was not her territory. This was territory meant for all who were accepted behind the imposing strong and high walls. There were those here that were given a second chance at life. Those like Daisy herself. No, this was not her territory, Dayselay's territory held no such sanctuary qualities. Daisy offered a soft smile and several blinks of her bushy-lashed blue eyes to the wild-smelling female and nodded lightly in a moment of fondness towards another hunter. Just like how the Mandi-Har had offered kindness in what felt like a lifetime ago.

He could have tried to take advantage of her with his song. He had seen her reaction, but instead he accepted her station and had tried to appease her. Even though he took a bite out of the apple he offered her, it was still an act of kindness. Where the fuck was this kindness outside those walls in all that time she spent out there before ending up here. Rapture broken now, the she-beast marched over to Dra'lix and offered him the only kindness she knew although he would never understand.

“Daaaahhhh.... sheeee...” she offered her name to him out loud as she touched her giant tattooed and scarred hand to her chest. Then with her throwing arm, her sacred arm against which a male may never touch, she warmly squeezed his coal hued hand. Kindness to Daisy was breaking an oath for another out here.

Swiftly she had taken an apple from her plate and stepped over to the fallen crying half-breed rat thing and knelt before it. The shining red apple she placed gently within an arm's reach of it then she tapped at her breast. With the same hand she tapped upon the apple, as she clicked and breathed out sounds.

'This is from Daisy.'

She then pointed to the apple and gestured with her hands and mewled.

'This is kindness...'

More clicks and whistles and a sweeping hand and bow lead her gaze towards the imposing deadly beauty that was Isabelle. Then Daisy nodded once to Murrpau, a different look gleaming from those normally wild and daring eyes shone out at her before the she-beast stood and backed away. From the centre of those circlets, the dark pupils that had screamed death at the mangy stranger rat earlier, now glowed with mercy and a promise of Life.

'Give kindness to Mother and make it right...'

[Hellis]

It hurt, she could not help the sweat that beaded on her brow as she suppressed her own pain in order to deliver some to this woman, this bitch who defiled the name of the man that had given her life, love and hope. It was a terrible feeling, she felt nausea and dizziness, it was no easy streak for the pain she inflicted she had to relive herself. This pain had nearly killed her the first time round and likely combined with the way she was literally haemorrhaging magic in a bid to make this woman sorry, it would claim her this time too. It didn't matter, that kindly face was all she could see and her smirking damnation was all she could hear, she had no idea, none at all what she'd lost.*

Isabelle actually flinched. It was a rare thing. The intruder had hit her like a tidal wave. She only stared at Murrpau. If she wasn't in so much pain, she would have smiled. But now, she had to show the same amount of heart as this little one. Or the girl would get herself killed.

Then a surprising thing happened, the woman moved and Murr flinched back, concentration broken and spell ended before the physical haemorrhaging began. Her hand dropped and recoiled as if stung by the whip that had ripped at her neck as the woman snatched the parchment from her and she flinched expecting a blow. For now all thoughts of fight had fled her, all thoughts of survival were gone. This woman, or her army would kill her and that would be the end of that sad tale, her eyes screwed up as she shrank against the touch and awaited her death. She wondered what it would be like, the people of the prison had followed all religions and some had even made up their own, beautiful or painful. She wasn't going anywhere good, she knew that, plains of light were not meant for those like her. It would be the searing rivers, the eternal darkness where she'd go, she also wondered then if perhaps she'd break there, they'd know how to break her, what buttons to push.*

One quick step in, and Isabelle took the note out of her hand. Reading the name, she forced a smile trough the pain still ringing out trough her. The name, smudged an crumpled. explained her sharp tongue and her strong will.

Her thoughts carried on for a moment in such a fashion and then, slowly it dawned on her she wasn't dead. That harsh bitches voice raised again but this time it did not invoke utter despise in the half-breed rat, it invoked an entirely different response. Slowly Murr's eyes opened again and she glanced at the blind woman as she read the paper. Her lower lip wobbled but she forced it still again, this woman had known him? It seemed too good to be true, for a moment she nearly ran her mouth, asking or demanding (she herself wasn't sure which it would be) to know all she knew of him. This woman was now her last link to him, not some paper or blood but someone she could share memories with, recount tales with, someone who would remember with her.*

“ You kind old fool...” She spoke in a softer tone now, one Iano rarely ever heard the woman speak in. The blind eyes must seem strange focusing on something they should not be able to see. But names, names like this shone like a beacon for Isabelle.

Iano didn't know exactly what had transpired. But the way Isabelle suddenly had frozen up, the other woman had probably done something mighty impressive. And the way Isabelle was now staring at the note, whatever was written there carried weight. His train of thought was broken by Isabelles words growing firmer again, but nowhere close to as lethal from before.

“You got heart right?” It was a statement, not a question. Her tone even held the slightest ounce of respect. “Here I thought you were just another run of the mill runt. Someone who came here on the promise of riches. But you aren't, your here because you saw one of our best die. And you foolishly believed all of us to be like him.”



All too quickly she realised the woman was still speaking and focused her wandering mind on the words, half afraid there were nothing more than fools gold, a nasty trick of kindness before her demise. Heart she had said, no one had said that of Murr, well, the old man had but he was different, he'd always only seen the good in her and never the flaws. Spoiled one might say by the kindness of this errant knight. She said something that nearly broke Murr all over again, his death, it was a sore point, too soon and too new.*“He died because I couldn't stop them coming.”*The apology actually saved her face from crumbling in a gesture she hadn’t' shown in nigh on ten years, utter misery, it almost caused a smile to tick at the corner of her mouth. A real one opposed to the cocky one, soft and girlish and gentle, it was rather awkward and unused and disappeared quickly.*

“But you survived. It is all that matters. If he died, it was because he wanted to die. His death is not on you. I apologize for ever showing disrespect towards him.” She spoke again. “You didn't run when I released the spell. You realized your error, you curbed that pride in order to ellevate the situation.. And you stood up despite what happened. Despite the words, you stood up. Bravery or Stupidity, it takes Heart to do that. And heart means you can be relied upon. That they can't brake you.” As she continued, most weapons had been put back into their scabbards and people were now more watching out of interest. Some were even grinning, impressed by the girl.

“We aren't all like him. You are right. This isn't a knights order. Hell, even a knight is nothing but a noble on a horse these days, right?” She chuckled. “We got pirates, assassins, bandits even. But the moment they enter these halls they are something better then that. And we got a code. A code that say that whoever wears the leaf is a comrade even in death. And the guild take care for their own. I am sure you heard the fancy rumors about us, expected us to be like that old man. But he was one of a kind, a wise man who's kindness towards others was the reason to his fall. We are mercenaries kid, we fight for gold. We fight for one another and we fight for ourselves. But every man and woman here is a comrade. I will lay down my life for them and they for me. Come Zail shadow or Mortinas cold embrace, we remain what we are.” She sighed, runnin a hand trouh her black tressess. She saw how Daisy, with an act pure as snow, offered an apple to the now crying girl.

Then the woman was speaking again, of course they weren't all like him, he*was*one of a kind and yet... The questions on knights seemed rhetorical so she said not a word just nodded her head very lightly. Not him though, not that man. He'd been more than a noble on a horse, he was the thing those toffs aspired to be. An unachievable goal for most. This woman though, she was these people's hero, she wasn't a 'bitch' she was defending the people she cared for, that she swore to protect. A tigress in this den and she had walked in with such disrespect, she hadn't understood at all, she almost didn’t understand now, it was a fleeting hard grasped knowledge. As if, just for a moment, the world had opened up it's secrets to her, naked truth, an epiphany.*“I...apologise.”*

Those two words were clearly hard to say but they were honest, naked emotion, they meant more than a wordy apology she might have spilled out minutes before all of this. She hesitated a moment but then reached out a hand, it flinched, as if bitten but then went to rest on Isabelle's own shoulder,*“Do-does it still hurt? I can make it go aw-”*

The behemoth woman came up, clicks and snorts and other noises at the ready, for a moment she was certain she'd be eaten. The large huntress was magnificent so close up, tattoos and piercings, scars and the sheer muscle upon her, terrifying but amazing.*

“I can do right by him, that I can. I owed him my life, and now I owe it to him to make sure his legacy; foul mouthed as it may be, continues. That is if you can see past these harsh introductions. I needed to know whether or not you were made out of more then just anger and arrogance. You'll find we all have hearts like yourself. That the blood in our veins is as red as yours. And that we are flawed like you. Take the apple kid. You have a place here if you choose it.”

Quickly Murr's hand dropped and she took a half step back, ready to run even though she was certain she'd get no further than a single pace from any of those in the room. She was tired of running though and was glad that she had forced herself to remain in the spot, the large creature had given her an apple, from what she tried to communicate and what Murr could interpret she wanted Murr to have it? Then seemed to want her to do something with it. Her brows furrowed a little and then she had a moment of utter confusion. She only knew what one tribe did as, well any kind of greeting that wasn't hostile and she doubted it was fitting but it was better than nothing.*

Pounding a hand to her chest she then slid it out, her fingers making waves across the air in front of her, it had been something she'd learned in the prison, it might have been wild-har but she wasn't sure. Whoever it was they did not like to be touched; unless it was mating time, and so they greeted each other without touching. She offered a half smile, uncertain how well such a thing would go down, however she very much doubted the mammoth woman would appreciate the only other two forms of greeting she knew.*

Eyeing the apple she slowly crouched to pick it up, her eyes never moving off of the tribal woman, nor quite off of Isabelle's, still somewhat convinced this was a cruel trick. She picked up the apple and looked it over, trying to figure out the meaning between the last set of noises, or if she'd interpreted the first correctly. What if they had simply meant 'touch this if you want me to cook you with apples' or 'if you want to die touch my apple' or...she didn't think on that now and while still trying to watch Daisy she turned her attention to the woman.*“I...erm...that is...”*

Murrs brows were furrowed, apples, why an apple, glancing to her other hand she noticed she still hadn't relinquished the meat. She'd stolen food. Again. She had to steal though or she didn't eat and it wasn't as if it was all for her. Then again she only fed the other street urchins to appease her guilt from her past anyway, she was no hero like her late 'father'. Stolen food, given food but was it hers to accept? No, she'd already taken what she didn't deserve and now she'd been given an apple on top of it all. Offering the shiny apple out to Isabelle she said not a word for a moment until,*“I don't... this is for you....Wait... Legacy?”*

“Your old master was a hero to me. You have a lot to live up to.” Isabelle turned and began walking back to her seat. The beads on her pale skin belied the massive strain put on her. The words still echoed inside her. She was gonna be drinking all night in that old mans memory. And gods help the others if they didn't.

The term had finally hit her and she looked for the first time this entire encounter, scared. She couldn't be his legacy, she wasn't able to live up to that!

---- ----

Iano in the meanwhile rested his head on his wild-har friends shoulder. His voice one of idle boredom himself. As touching a scene it was, he was far to flighty a person to take it all in. And he knew that his dear friend was the same. “You are getting fidgetty. Bored already? Bet you were itching for this to turn into a brawl eh?” He chided. “That reminds me” He took a deep breath of her scent and traced her form a bit. “You have gotten stronger since we last met.. I can tell. Your not the underfed she-beast I once free'd” He grinned brightly.


[Collab with Hym]

[LimeyPanda]

Mortality bred such interesting creatures.

If anyone had ever thought the gods to be the most interesting beings, they had never seen as interesting a meeting and clash of human wills as Dra'lix was witness to; So much drama and tension that it would be unjust to compare it to some of the preconceived clichés that are bandied about by bards and wordsmiths. This tension wasn't something malleable that could be cut with a knife: it was a clash of indomitable wills. Two granite boulders colliding, finding any weak purchase of mortality until one would crumble.

Dra'lix was silent as Isabella took centre stage. Her very presence had a sense of awe about it: carrying the weight of one who should be respected. Isabella cut to the chase, being both concise and honest to the woman who'd burst into the halls of the leaves. In return, the woman was boisterous, headstrong and demanding; even going so far as to question Dra'lix, to the effect of asking if he was a woman's beta. The notion left a sour taste in his mouth, the thought of his ambition to be a great magus being trampled on. His dream was to be a name of worth; and yet here the woman was just casually asking if he'd put himself in the arms of a woman. Nothing would calm his ambition; not a desire for flesh or demand to appease an alpha. He would someday choose a love, but he would not become a subservient who simply 'followed a woman'. He would never allow that to be his defining feature. He was Dra'lix, the half-breed Magus who outshone so many others and who inspired tales of great magical deeds. He wasn't never going to be Dra'lix, sire of some woman's children.

Before Dra'lix could vent his words to Murrpau's words, the woman was humbled by the lightning of Isabella's whip. Dra'lix was humbled by his inability to follow the whip: the thunderous crack of the whip as it coiled further eliciting the devastating ferocity of lightning. Dra'lix watched Murrpau fall to the floor, dominated by Isabella's pure superiority of body and general martial training. He listened to the words, silently wishing that such harsh words were not used, and yet they were none unfair or unjustly thrown. The half-breed had been disrespectful and rude and had even gone as far as to threaten the mercenaries. Hypothetically of course, but none the less, she'd threatened them all. Isabella was not just reinforcing her dominance, or putting the girl in her place: she was protecting her family. The leaves were all akin to a clan: a group of talent and a group of stragglers and outcasts. Dra'lix decided to let the scene continue to play; one because of his ambitious desire to protect himself from any retribution, should he interfere and assist the stranger who he wished no harm on, but secondly because he wanted that same stranger to realize her error and to reconcile with the queen bee that was Isabella.

What he did not expect was the retaliation. Borne of rage and stupidity, Murrpau lashed out with a force that Dra'lix did not recognise or comprehend: A mix of something so arcane and yet so perversely not that the mage was stunned and awed and horrified at once. He recognised Shadowborne mind-morphing, he knew of certain magic that affected cognitive ability, yet whatever...this was. Dra'lix was clueless. He was humbled by his inexperience, as he had no magic to defend against it at all. The magical ability struck at Isabella and Dra'lix could only watch helplessly, Seeing Isabella flinch, and only flinch. Had Dra'lix been wrong about the spells weight? The spell, or whatever it was, had felt like it would have ripped apart Dra'lix: should it have been aimed at him, or some unprotected soul. The thought then dawned upon him; Isabella had probably just overcome the spell. It was far more plausible an explanation, if only because he was sure of what the magic whispered to his opened mind. He was confident in his meagre abilities. Glancing at the girl, expecting to see a girl skewered with spear or arrow or blade, or perhaps just strangled by the Iron shackles of the Lightning-thunderous whip, Dra'lix saw something rather unsettling.

The true face of Murrpau was a sad one to behold: One that humbled Dra'lix's relatively young soul. She was a terrified, untrained, unloved, unaware woman. Someone who'd spent their life in fear and terror and loneliness. She was an outcaste who had seemingly been accepted by one man: the man she was trying so hard to punish Isabella for insulting.

As realisation dawned on him about Murrpau's soul, shock rocked his. Looking over at Daisy, he saw a transformation on her face. She had noticed everything he had and, seemingly more. No doubt an unknown wisdom had struck her born of experience, but Daisy looked over at the Mandi-har, eyes filled with an unfamiliar expression; a mix of sadness and understanding and perhaps something else: A kind of sympathy that Dra'lix could never hope to understand or comprehend. Slowly though, Daisy advanced on Dra'lix, slowly affirming the name that he'd already gathered from Isabella's speech before. Her words were forced, laboured: a physical strain almost, as if it was difficult and un-right and forbidden. Dra'lix felt humbled by the words alone, but when she touched his hand, her hand's rough, worn, white flesh touching his darkened hands, he had to hide his humble kindness. Even in his ignorance, he knew that the Huntress had done something unusual and impossibly kind. To think that he'd affected the woman so greatly in such a short time, the Mandi-har smiled.

Following Daisy's actions as she gave the woman an apple, Dra'lix was unable to stifle a smile. She was mimicking his actions! An act of kindness that was so profoundly simple and, in the normality of the world, underappreciated. The bestial huntress was offering the Street-cat a morsel of food: her food, for nothing. It was an act of kindness and respect and compassion. It was a beautiful act.

Then more oddity happened.

Isabella picked up the note, the one the woman had seemed so sure about before, and read it. Instantly the fire of anger and pain and retribution that the Queen bee had held was quenched and replaced with empathy. Whatever words were on the sheet of paper, they had done the impossible.

The two boulders of Granite shattered, unable to withstand the weight of whatever was written on the paper.

Isabella had relaxed somewhat, and all the tension that the room had felt melted away as Murrpau acted humbled. Respect was given and respect was shown throughout the room. Daisy's act of kindness hung in the air, and then was reluctantly accepted; the apple passed on to Isabella. That same act of respect Daisy had given, so pure of heart and kind of intentions, was reciprocated to a woman that had so recently been shown radical hatred.

Murrpau's looked so tense as she realised Isabella had placed a heavy weight on her shoulders. The legacy of any person was a great weight to bear, but a hero of the Silver Leaves would be a hefty burden almost. It would be up to Murrpau to share it appropriately or carry it alone.

Dra'lix rose from his seat, standing next to the Street-urchin before he spoke, breaking the silence he had.

"You're an arrogant, headstrong idiot." The bluntness of Dra'lix's words would seem out of character compared to the kindness he'd shown to both Daisy and Murrpau before, but he continued on regardless, not giving people a chance to judge his words before he shared more.

"You are an outsider in every way. You think yourself alone in the world, aware of everything that can possibly affect you. You think too much in black and white: like the Luni, and the Mandi-har, and most people who ever existed. A Luni sees a Mandi, and the Mandi is evil. The Mandi sees the Luni, and sees a self-righteous moron. A person sees a half breed, and they think that the union is an 'abomination'." The last point stung Dra'lix, insults he'd heard too much before. "You think you are the only person who has lost in this world? You think this world is filled with only those that are poor and downtrodden and righteous, and those that are rich and well off and cruel?” The questions hung in the air, and before she could answer, Dra’lix continued his tirade. “Most of the people in this room have suffered. Some of these 'birds' were once rats." She called upon Murrpau's own symbolism, recalling her past words and reflecting them to her. Dra'lix felt words roll of his tongue now, as he tried to express his pure intentions. Dra’lix found an irony in the fact that he, the person that the Street cat had labelled as kind had been so close to the preconceived conception of someone that Street Urchins generally loathed; affluent in birth, given everything he could want from conception. Loved and respected by family and allowed to exist: His life had been an ease compared to so many of the people in this room.

“You came here at the behest of someone special to you, and you march in here, demanding this and that, so arrogantly expecting the world to be given to you. You threaten this group, you treat us as fools and you even insult the one person who treated you with kindness.” There was slight anger in his voice; uncharacteristic anger, born of the passion of what he was trying to convey to the woman. “All of these crimes you committed against us are pittance though, because you committed a greater crime. You nearly threw away the thing that that man protected." Dra'lix's finger pointed at Isabella and, more importantly, the note it carried. The Mandi-har didn't know who the name was on the note, or even have an inkling of an idea whom it might be. He didn't know enough about the Silver leaves and the members of legendary tales.

"You were so willing to die for that man's memory? Then you insult it. Cling to your life with sharp claws and the fury you directed at us. Honour his memory and his legacy the only way you can; exist! Live and grow and flourish and become someone worthy of the life he gave you. Do it alone or do it amongst allies and a family and a home with us."

Dra'lix moved back to his seat, grabbing an apple and biting into it: Content to eat it himself now after all the drama. "How you live your life is up to you, but dying isn't your choice anymore. Not since someone thought it worth dying to keep you alive.”