12 stared at Lucien as she was assigned a name. Silly master...giving things names makes you attached to them. You shouldn't get attached to a woman who is actively plotting her escape. But, admittedly, there was something pitiful about Lucien that made 12 smile - and she did owe him one for saving his life, at the very least. No chains but bound by a debt. Still a slave. Still 12, just with a different name. "Srraaarah." purred 12. It didn't sound as good as how Lucien said it.

Well, 12 was actually mildly surprised when Lucien managed to see past her guise and opted to avoid prying into her life. Usually, she got beaten for that. Then again, Lucien was obviously a novice in the slave-trade business, and 12 didn't feel it was necessary to teach him how to look after 12 properly if it avoided a boot to the face.

Each and every time lightning flashed and thunder roared, 12 would jump out of her skin. Her wings twitched, she'd stumble and throw her hands up protectively over her face. Lucien said something about an Estemere storm....Estemere...was that where she was? Estemere? She didn't know where that was at all, how can one return to Sudal from Estemere?

As the night paced on, 12 folded her wings in and tried to wrap them around her as much as possible. Clearly, a potato-sack/dress combo wasn't the best insulator and she didn't have nearly enough meat on her bones to shrug off the cold. If it was this bad in this Estemere place, 12 wondered what her next stop would've meant for her...she didn't have to think for a long time. Death. She would've died in the cold.

As the pair turned a corner, a scantily clad redhead in nothing but a corset and a little ruffled skirt came rushing up to Lucien, yelling something that 12 missed because she was too busy thinking. Was that the -other- female entertainer? She certainly looked the part. Was she about to step into a harem? 12 couldn't make out Lucien's intentions at all now, but her train of thought was interrupted by the sight of the man at the other end of the street.

she knew this man. She was in chains next to him, cramped up in the dark. He was stubborn, and never cracked a smile, but 12 was comforted by his heritage. There was something distinctly Sudalian about him that reminded 12 of home, and she always shuffled ever-so-slightly closer to him than the other man next to her because it was nice to be able to see a manifestation of her beautiful warm deserts in such a cold, plant-infested country.

Poor guy got himself into a harem, thought 12. She followed the Sudalian and Lucien indoors.

Tirarian reached her goods cart, mercifully intact. All she had to do was drop off some potions at Elric's and that would be her lot for today. She contemplated that he was probably at the Jolly Hippogriff, but she always needed to drop the potions into his storeroom in the back, just in case he had any emergency jobs during the night. She picked up the goods and headed in that direction, aided by the fact the streets were pretty much empty, allowing her to move the cumbersome cart more easily. It probably would have been easy for a full size person to pull, she reflected

Corinne

"Timely manner? Please...Sneaky. That's what you are. And that's that. And I refuse to believe otherwise." Corinne smirked. "And it's a laboratory all right. It might even rival Tirarian's set-up. Perhaps a lot more people in there than in a lab, though. In fact, definitely more. Wonder where she's gotten, that gnome."
The table was pulled up to eventually and conversation continued there, the glass of wine arriving and the elf's fingers finding the stem and her swirling the liquid around a little before taking a long drag. It tasted divine, as it always did. Surprisingly so, you'd think a place like that wouldn't know its fine wines.
"It's great to hear business is doing so well for you, old friend. Though I still think you can be a little brutish. Just a little." she gave the red-haired man a wink at his antics, even laughed a little as the liquor slowly, slowly crept, before sitting up a little straighter in her chair. "But 'tis one of the reasons uncle and I adore your company so, lovable barber!"
With nose scrunching a little, ears perking up and attentively listening to the half-elf's now-input, she laughed again, evidently a little less restrained, "Hell be damned, Trafalgar. I still wish to pay for the drinks. And I will. I promise you that, haha!"

"That's amazing though...you want to travel the world? I can't remember the farthest I've ever been..." a distant look took the elf's face, and her nose scrunched a little more as she tried to think, "Probably my parents' land, and some other parts of the country, and that's that."
"...and ooh, Elric, a wager with Miss Evelyn? Juicy, juicy! Today, it was Samuel! Egads, tomorrow, it could be her! And she's such a fine poppy, too..."
Her eyes widened and she almost choked on her drink at Trafalgar's account, with her coughing a little with her hand before her face and eyes watering at how the wine stung her throat, "I...what?! W...urgk..."
It took her a handful of seconds to right herself, and even then traces of water still clung to her eyelids as she gaped at the men in disbelief.
"Elric...you cannot be serious. Trafalgar...you honestly didn't see that, did you? Are you just going on with Elric's whims and fancies? It can't be a ring! Maybe it was a late night...order he had to finish, Benny's horrible with time-keeping, and, and...Good grief...it cannot be true, I refuse to believe it until I see it, and I will not end up seeing it, because Benjamin Smith and I are just. Good. Friends!"
Her voice raised, though she was giggling a little by that point too, an empty glass sitting on the table before her with the bottom splashed in the leftover traces of red. Her cheeks were flushed at the thought, and at the exerted energy that seemed to be put into speaking, and she shook her head violently. "No no no no no. In fact, we can go over to the forge right this second, a-"

She was interrupted by a very, very loud crack of thunder. It almost seemed to knock the sanity right back into her.
"Oh, gods! It...no, it can't be! A storm, at this hour! I...gentlemen, we must be getting home! Don't you see? It...Elric, tell the man! Estermere's storms are the absolute worst! We have to go...I have to go. Elric, Lysander is outside, all by himself, and-and-and..."

---

Elric quaffed the remainder of his mug of ale. "Well that's certainly a considerable storm brewing out there." He glanced at Traflagar, "It isn't the worst storm I've ever seen. The worst one I recall was when I was a little lad, spry with four years under my belt." Elric got up from the stool and gave a quick bow to Corinne and Tralfagar. "I'll need to continue the conversation with you two later." He smirked at Corinne, "With you about Ben." He glanced at Traflagar, "And with you about the ladies."

He opened up his small satchel as he placed a silver piece on the table. He shut his satchel back, as he then opened the door to the tavern, where he was greeted by a cold and harsh wind, upon exiting the building. "Yes, that's quite the storm." He said, shivering as he rubbed his arms around his torso in a desperate attempt to warm up.

"Coldah thana weetch's wintreh, fros'bittan teet...if'n it wer set ta freeze inna dank pit." He grumbled to himself, much like his Pa would do when the weather got to dreary. "Well I might have just harnessed Pa with that..." He mused to himself. Father should be fine, a bit agitated due to uncomfortable weather, but not in any real situation of worry He thought to himself.

Elric began heading back to the shop.

Lucien's manor was... imposing. At three stories tall, it dwarfed the surrounding buildings. The outside looked grand as it was, with tall towers, balconies outside the second and third floor and great glass windows rimmed with brass. The stones were a nice white colour and the roof a midnight blue, but in the darkness, the whole thing looked terrifying.
"Welcome" he proclaimed as he opened the door "to my humble abode."
The inside was anything but humble. The first thing anyone got a glimpse of was the grand marble staircase, right in the middle of the house. The floors were hewed from stone, covered in the middle by a deep red rug and the walls were panelled ebony. The whole room was ridiculously spacious, as most of the furniture was set up against the wall, again cut from fine ebony. The walls, suprisingly, were devoid of paintings or decoration, save a few lamps that lit up automatically when Lucien walked past. Hanging from the windows were long, purple velvet curtains, all drawn over to keep the light out.
"Well? What do you think?" Lucien grinned like a shark "I hope you like it as much as I do."

"I'm going to head to my office. Rosa, I trust you'll treat Sarah and Rhone well?" Lucien shot the girl a meaningful look, before heading up the grand staircase, out of sight.
Typical. It was the same every night. During the day, Lucien was a social butterfly, meeting with friends, clients and city guards, usually to investigate demonic influences. At night, however, he just shut himself away in his 'office' and asked Rosa not to disturb him. What was she meant to do in a big, empty house all by herself?

She'd often questioned what he kept up there that was so secretive. She could do, say and go anywhere else, but he never gave her a straight answer when she asked about the mystery office.

But now she had Rhone and the winged girl to talk to. Well, maybe the winged girl - Rhone didn't seem to want to talk much. She would have to get her story tomorrow.
There was a distinct differance between the winged one (Sarah, Lucien had called her) and Rhone that wasn't just looks. While Rhone was more the strong, silent type who just got his head down and went to work, there was some rebellion in Sarah. She could almost feel the defiance emanating from her. In this way, it seemed, they were kindred souls.

"Are you guys hungry? There's some food in the kitchen. And I could run a bath for you if you'd like. There are some spare clothes for both of you when you're done." she winked at Rhone "Don't worry, there's plenty of guy stuff."

Trafalgar bursted into laugher at the sight of Corinne almost choking on wine. "Well, you two are certainly two of the most interesting people I've met" he said and laughed once more, "and don't you doubt my vision. My eyes are as sharp as yours in the night you know, I know what i saw inside that forge" he said, continuing to joke with Corinne.

And there was definitely a storm brewing outside alright. With Elric standing up, Trafalgar stood up as well, "I'm definitely looking forward to continuing our little conversation" he replied to Elric with a little smirk forming on his face. He turned to Corinne, who was, in all honesty, at the same condition her uncle was some time earlier in the night, albeit she had a little more control over herself than her uncle. "Are you sure you won't need any help going back home?" He asked her.

"And don't worry about your uncle, if he doesn't wake up by the time the tavern closes down, I will keep an eye on him through the night. I don't really sleep that much anyway..." he added.

A sudden eruption of splinters, thrashing and grunts resounded from the wine cellar down below, frightening many of the guests who were more than intoxicated at that time. “It’s a burglar!”
“A dragon!”
“A burglar!”

“Ye got it all wrong. It’s ol’ Jack Ronalds ‘imself!”

“Thought ‘e was dead a few hundred years ago. MY answer is right, it is: it’s a bloody hobgoblin!”

“Ah say again: it’s a bloody dragon!”

As the patrons yet again found an excuse to start another bar brawl, Pucksy left his wife’s embrace and hurried down into the cellar. What he saw was a surprise. The Red Lock was restraining a tall, lean hooded figure. “Bloody ‘ell, mate. Stay still so I can break your runty little neck!”

The hooded figure stopped struggling and let out a truly hideous, mocking laugh. A lift of his hood revealed a green hyena-like face, with crazed sickly yellow eyes, dagger-like fangs, and pure malice dripping from his very features.
 “A gnoll, are you?” Pucksy shoved his chubby face into the hyena-man’s view. The gnoll let out a revolting burp, which caused Pucksy to stagger back. “I’d like a BLOODY good answer on why you’ve been nickin’ my ale.”

The gnoll ceased his laughing and twisted his horrendous features into a scowl. He began to speak in surprisingly good Common. “I nick ale for Grushtov.”
“Who’s Grushtov?”

The gnoll’s subsequent whistle seemed to tear the blanket of night’s grace apart. A swift patter of paw and growl approached. Very much suddenly, a huge, snarling figure about eight meters wide erupted through the rickety cellar wall, kicking up a thick cloud of wood splinters. When the dust cleared, moonlight did the rest. A huge hyena floored a quivering, sobbing Pucksy to the floor. The gnoll removed his claws from the Red Lock’s bloodied neck and looked into Pucksy’s teary eyes with a fanged grin. “That,” the gnoll concluded, “is Grushtov.”

Elric shivered, as he held his hands up against his shoulders, trying to warm himself up. That, didn't seem to work, so he just returned his arms to his sides as he continued heading back to the shop. His lips curled into a frown as he grumbled to himself, "Father's description of the cold was right..." He glanced around, before noticing something peculiar.

Not Benjamin Smith forging the ring for Corinne peculiar, nor was it Miss Rachel stealing flowers peculiar, it was more like Malcom sleeping in the gutters peculiar. He paused for a moment in his trek, as he glanced at the crate, and listening as the rain beat down upon it. Did I....

Elric approached the crate, which was left on its side, where he did in-fact confirm the peculiar sight. He saw a man, who appeared dressed in chainmail huddling with a young child, trying to warm the girl. Elric took a few steps closer to the crate as he knelt down and looked in it. "This crate won't keep you warm in weather like this, Traveling Adventurer."

Hart watched from the railing as the half elf and elf left and went to mingle amongst themselves and other patrons. He was fine with them using the room to take care of the elf's uncle. After all, it wasn't actually his room, who was he to complain. Hart slowly made his way back down to the main floor, taking a seat at the bar to order a drink. He debated leaving and heading back to the safe house, or staying here a little while longer. He kept the weaselfolk in the corner of his eye, making sure to keep a sizable amount of the crowd between them - the weaselfolk was easy to pick out in the crowd, tall, powerful. If it wasn't for the fact that Hart brought him to the attention of some goons, he may have proven to be a valuable asset. Maybe Hart would be able to smooth the wrinkles out later on.

Hart heard the grunt and burst of splinters from the wine cellar. He immediately recognized it as a struggle of some sort - Hart had been into enough situations during his more.. illicit activities that he knew an attack when he heard one. The fact that there was a more explosive grunt instead of silence implied that it was a violent exchange as opposed to a stealthy removal. Hart was considering giving it the benefit of a doubt when a second crashing sound was heard. A struggle was going on.

Hart crossed over to the door to the cellar, his thumb toying with the sheathed knife on his chest, but he didn't go in just yet. He was smarter than to rush in blindly by himself. He scanned the crowd for anyone he knew- of course, that was a scant few, as he knew very few people in town.

"There are things that keep me warmer than a roof and fireplace, stranger." James responded, pulling Anya ever closer to him.

"What brings you to this neck of the.... alley?" he asked. "If you want to share the crate, forget it. We're cramped as is."

Elric shook his head, "No, I don't need to share the crate. I was heading back to my own warm bed at this late hour. I came over here, as I noticed the interesting position of the crate." He kept his place in front of the crate kneeling, "Couldn't find a single source of lodging eh?" Elric glanced down and shook his head, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Most unfortunate indeed."

Scratching against the back of his head with his right hand, as the wind continue blowing with a harsh cold. "Listen Adventurer, it's a cold and vicious stormy night out here, don't want you or your young one to die of the cold. I have enough space for lodging, well for the night anyway. It'd be much warmer than a crate..."

James considered the offer, and slowly climbed out of the crate, picking his daughter up in a princess carry as he rose to his full height.

"I appreciate the generosity." he said solemnly, staring intently at Elric. "Do lead the way. Anya's going to get soaked at this rate."

Elric gave a nod, "Well I can't just let you die in the streets." He smirked, "I'd lose a future customer." he chuckled out, before shaking his head. "Well, I'll make sure to get a fire going when we get there. The two of you will need it."

He promptly left the alley, and beckoned for James, with Anya, to follow him back to his lodgings.

Anya snuggled up to her papa. That was one of the other reasons she loved him- his kindness. Even if she was always cold now, she could swear that she felt some warmth. At least, from him anyways. Yes, even with vampirism her papa was always warm.

Anya slept, but it wasn't long before she was awoken by some shifting and voices. She was lifted up once again, and looked around groggily.

"Papa? What's happening? Where are we going? We don't want the crate to spoil."

"You'll see." James smiled, following quickly behind Elric.
"Fortune's smiled upon us, Anya. We're going to do a lot better than normal tonight. Probably." he explained.

"Do you have a fireplace?" he asked Elric, hoping they'd enter his home soon.

Elric glanced back at James, "Yes I do have a fire place." It was a relatively short walk, especially as he was going at a faster pace than usual, as he didn't want to be in this weather longer than usual. A crackle of lightning erupted as he, swore he noticed Gukb still on the roof. Elric glanced back at the roof incredulously, Can't be... Elric shook his head as he glanced back at James and Anya. "Well, I can say, this is better than a crate."

The house had a roof that had shingles which looked like they were in dear need of replacing, even in the night, during a few choice strikes of lightning one could see the wear on the roofing. The structure itself appeared rather durable, and there was no source of light coming directly from the windows of the building. Elric opened up his satchel, as he pulled out a key, and opened the door, as a sign smacked against the door. He glanced back at James and Anya, "Well come on in now, between me, and you two, the floors will already be drenched in water. Don't need the extra help from the storm." He said as entered the house. "I have a bit of chopped wood inside, not too much though for a rather long lasting fire."

Anya smiled back at her father. She wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but it seemed like they might have a nice place to stay tonight. They arrived rather swiftly to Elric's house, which looked spacious and warm. Better yet, the man specifically invited them in. Anya wouldn't have to worry about making certain she was allowed.

"Thank you very much, mister," said Anya, "This is much better than a crate."

It had been so long since Anya had slept in a real house, she bet her papa was really happy too.

"Good, good. Let's hurry with the fire, then." James said. "My daughter is cold and wet; I want to dry her off now. A warm fire is the best way to do so. The sooner we make a fire, the better."

He looked down to give Anya a smile, and said "Once we get the fire roaring, we can cuddle there tonight. It'll be much more comfy than a crate."

By the time Tirarian arrived at Elric's, it was pouring down. She opened the back door and stumbled in, dripping on the wooden floor. She hung up her hat and duster and got to work pulling in the crate of goods. 5 health potions, 3 anti-toxins, 5 numbing potions, gods she was too tired to count. She just assumed the rest was in there and moved it into the corner. She was sure Elric wouldn't mind her waiting here until the rain stopped. Funny, she could swear she heard something on the roof...

“Back, Grushtov!” The gnoll let a shrill whistle escape from between two of his clawed fingers. Grushtov reluctantly backed down and let Pucksy stagger to his feet, but not before emitting an intimidating snarl from his feral face. Meanwhile, the gnoll proceeded to take a length of rope and truss up Pucksy rather methodically. A little too methodically for an ordinary gnoll.
“Be grateful that I let you live, innkeeper.” The gnoll violently tugged on the ropes, making Pucksy moan in pain. “Stay quiet and I might consider doling out a swift death. Maybe a quick one to the neck, perhaps.”

“So, this is your game, eh?” Pucksy regained a little bit of his courage and stared the gnoll in the face. “What’s your name, gnoll?”

“I go by Jel, son of Drel, chieftain of the Hellish Claws... who your Mayor Festwith so generously razed to the ground.”
“Mayor Festwith was right in his judgement! Gnolls are stupid, ignorant, insane creatures!” Pucksy managed to scream in Jel’s face, letting out the pent-up anger that he had restrained in himself for the last few minutes.
“Quiet, human piece of rat shit.” The gnoll gave Pucksy a slap in the face, claws out. Pucksy’s face was turned into a mass of horrendous bloody gashes. “You see, mister innkeeper, Grushtov is naturally insane. Alcohol calms him down.” He gestured to Grushtov, the hunched, snarling creature he was. “He usually gets his alcohol at this time of night, and since no alcohol...” His grin betrayed several dagger-like fangs made for meat and nothing else. “...no sanity, mister innkeeper.”
Again he let out the horrific laugh. “You’re lucky, fat man. Grushtov prefers lean meat. Go! Grushtov!”

With a hearty clap on Grushtov’s hide, the creature bounded over Pucksy, through the door, over Hart Arron, and into the Jolly Hippogriff’s main room.

The last thing that Pucksy heard before blacking out were two voices.
“By the One Hundred Writs of Pelor! Those are pretty bad gashes.”

“Indeed, comrade. Help me rush him to the high priest...”

He shut the door as the both entered."Yes, yes I'd appreciate a nice fire as well." Elric quickly walked up towards the fireplace making sure that the flint and tinder was still there. "Well I've got a bit of firewood already chopped and ready."

Elric strolled to the back as he noticed Tirarian arrive with the supply crate. "Well good to see the storm didn't hinder the delivery." He said with a grin as he walked over towards the opposite direction as he picked up two logs of firewood. He glanced at Tirarian, "I was just about to start a fire, you are free to come along and warm up. Unless of course you prefer being drenched from head to toe."