"I'm fine she says but if someone took a closer look, they would see right through her. But I don't blame her, anyone would be in shock if a giant hyena suddenly popped from nowhere and started killing people around them them"

"That was what most adventurers call a gnoll. A hyena-like humanoid monster of average intelligence. They usually band up, form packs and attack wanderers or merchants, stealing anything they find and killing the victims in the process. Murderous thieves..." Trafalgar spits the last words out of his mouth, his anger clearly showing on his face. "If one of those is here then there must be more nearby. Gods know what will happen to this village..."

" I don't know where it went but it seemed furius..." was the only thing he could answer her. Truth be told, Trafalgar had no clue about what a gnoll would possibly want that would make it attack a populated area like Estermere.

He quickly followed the speedy elf downstairs and out of the tavern. What surprised him the most was the fact that she was more worried about her horse than herself, something he found remarkable even for an elf, who were known to be pretty close to animals.

Trafalgar quickly looked around him, spotting the thick wooden post where travelers who stopped to rest at the tavern tied their horses to and luckily for him, a stray horse was there, right next to where Corinne had left hers. It had no saddle and was thrassing around trying to free itself. Trafalgar quickly ran towards the horse, slowing down as he approached it so as to not agitate it more than it already was. "Here girl"(it was a female) "shh,calm down now" he said and surprisingly, it did.

He quickly climbed and sat on top of it and with one of his knives, cut the rope tying it to the pole. The horse started rearing and flailing its hoves and almost threw Trafalgar off but he managed to stay on it by tighty holding onto its neck and keeping his balance as much as he could. When it calmed down for good, Trafalgar kicked with his legs, sending the horse running towards the direction Corinne took.

It didn't take him long to reach her, "If i wanted to stay behind, I wouldn't have left the safety of my home to travel the world. This is what makes this life worth living!" he shouted, laughing as he passed Corinne, following the trail of destruction left behind by the gnoll.

At the end of the trail layed the body of the monster and next to it stood a very familiar figure.

"What the... Is that...Elric?!", Heeeey he shouted and waved his arms, trying to catch the barbers attention.

Tirarian had long since pulled on her coat and headed home. First a slave market and now a Gnoll, today was eventful, to say the least. She unlocked her door, double locked it when inside. She threw her coat and hat off, unclipped her equipment and went to bed. As she snuggled, she remembered her potions left in her cart, she just didn't care anymore, not as the abyss embraced her into slumber

A voice beckoned out, "Heeeey!", Elric cocked his head back as he noticed Trafalgar, was the one flailing his arms and shouting, Elric fully turned around as he waved with his left hand, and that Corinne also headed in the direction. Elric gave a quick nod to Trafalgar, "You have gained my attention. Yes? What is it?" He kept his attention focused towards them. Though he would occasionally glance back at the hole that was made in his house, then back at the Hyena and Gnoll who made the thing in the first place.

Anya's eyes slowly closed as her father sang her to sleep. She was a little scared that she would have more bad dreams, but her papa was right there to comfort her and that made her feel much better.

Another wonderful thing about her papa was his singing. He was a really good singer. Or perhaps he wasn't, but it sounded like the best in the world to Anya at that moment. It made her feel secure, and she knew that he would never leave. He would always be by her side, she knew it.

Anya fell into a sound, undisturbed sleep. There would be no more bad dreams that night.

"In packs? That would mean there would be more..." fear gripped Corinne and made her swallow down the need to throw up that just wouldn't stay down. That would mean the tavern, or whatever remained of it, was still in danger. She felt a twinge of pity, and pain, and shame at not so much as having dared to examine the hole from which they came, or tend to the wounds of those that lay haphazardly across the remains of the splintered wooden floor.
But she was a hunter. Not a medic. Basic care was in her hands, as well as the proper way to put something out of its misery, but not advanced medical care, like the people might have needed. She bit her tongue.
All be damned.

She wouldn't know it, but the exact same thought crossed the half-elf's. That there were more. That there would be danger.
Even so as he struggled with the horse, the choking feeling passed for a moment of amusement, and a little half-smile crossed her lips at watching him try to tame the feisty mare. She didn't know who exactly it belonged to, but it must have belonged to someone, since it was tied to the post and all. She stroked Lysander's neck affectionately, almost grateful they'd gotten past that stage in their relationship, where he'd buck wildly and she'd have many a bruise to show for her failed attempts in trying to ride him. Now, he was as smooth a ride as any, and as beautiful to boot. Corinne made damn well sure of that. "You're...good with horses, I see, Trafalgar." she mused when he'd caught up.
Completely unfitting to the surroundings though. They spoke of despair and hopelessness and everything else under the sun. Thankfully, the beast that left seemed to have been on a mission.
Casualties were minimum. That was a good sign. Damage, however, was not. Debris lay everywhere. The thing really took its toll on the poor little town. The mayor, when notified, or rather since he must have been notified immediately by his eyes and ears, must have been taken aback.
Furious? Perhaps not. Definitely not as much as the creature seemed to be, indeed.

Trafalgar shouted something to her as he went past, that made her eyebrow arch in that familiar way, and a wider smile take her lips, even in the face of imminent doom they approached, riding through and her suspicions being confirmed, the dread having her in a vice-grip of how it would have made its way to the lovable redheaded barber's abode. And how he, unarmed in most aspects, would have to have fought it off. She prayed he was okay, especially when they approached his house and from the silhouette in the dark already, it seemed to have been torn apart.
She prayed it was just the storm that had done that to it, though it was a prayer in vain. The storm passed quickly, like most Estermerean ones. Short but deadly.
She was thankful.
Wait, no she wasn't.

"You're a madman!" she managed back at the half-elf, though her voice didn't carry malice. Instead, was a sense of wonder. She'd met travellers before, but the majority of them would have shied away from such a creature. Herself included. "That's amazing!"

They approached the house to have all suspicions confirmed, which had worry well up within her again. Though Trafalgar's address to the man made her release a breath she didn't realise she had been holding.
"Elric! Oh my gods, Elric, you're okay!"

And as the horses were brought to a slow, she set her quiver and bow where she could grab them immediately if need be, jumped off the horse and landed lightly, again silently thanking her elven descent, and gaze fell to the barber who stood there, who seemed to be looking to and away from the duo, back at something.
"Elric!" she cried and immediately took off in a run towards him, barely being able to compose herself when her arms threw themselves around him tightly.
"I thought you'd died when I saw the wreckage! Are you alright, are you hurt anywhere? Is everything okay? Where...did it come by he-"
And her breath hitched and caught in her throat when from the gaping hole in the side of the house, she saw the corpses. Vicious things, they were, the gnolls.
Her grip on the doctor, whom she'd only later come to know was actually injured only tightened. The sight made her knees weak. She'd have to at least get used to seeing those abominations before doing much else.
"...oh my gods," she whimpered, burying her face into the man's chest for just a second. He smelled like he always did. Of sterilisation liquid, and that familiar doctor-barber smell. "I'm...glad you're alright. I..."
She pulled away rather quickly after, looking him up and down carefully.
Perhaps if it was Shork, she'd have stayed there whimpering and crying for about the better part of a half-hour.
But then again, Shork could defend himself. She knew he was fully able.
Elric, however, could not.

She noticed the awkward movements of his limbs. And for the first time, the amount of blood on his clothes as well. Which now leaked into the fabric of hers, but that didn't matter.
"How did those things die? Did they hurt you? Are you...really, really alright?"

Elric nodded towards Corinne, "Hello, and ye-" He paused as she gave him a tight hug. This event while cheerful also resulted in Elric feeling a great stinging pain from within his chest. You will not burden her with your pain, she's a delicate individual after all. He cracked a smile, bearing through the pain, and reached over to recpriocate the hug.

"Now, now." He said trying to hide a shaky voice, and keeping a sense of calmness. "I'm still up and alive, the onl-" He found himself again interrupted, one by the touching moment when Corinne buried her head upon his chest. The second was from the pain that multiplied, as he was forcing himself to keep from expressing the pain. He stopped recpriocating the hug at this point. However luckily, or unluckily the barbe knew he'd have to decide, for him that moment was only a brief one. "And I'm glad you are alive, and without a single scrap or nick."

Elric cocked his head towards the two bodies, "Well there was a hero I let stay the night, I found him and his daughter in a crate during the storm, which I couldn't allow to continue, so I gave them lodging. He took on the hyena, while I went up against the Gnoll." Elric paused for a moment. "The Gnoll did attack me yes. I fixed up the gash on the right forearm, and it broke some ribs." He paused as he wagged his left index finger, "Yes my ribs. It's a tad trifling, nothing to get worked over about, I'll be able to keep working. Bending over for it will be..." Elric pondered on word choice. "strenuous for a bit, probably alongside other things, but everything will be fine. You don't need to worry your pretty little head." He gave a small smile. "Are there other injured parties who need medical attention?"

After all, painful, painful injuries will not stop me from helping out the community. Though it will slow me down, definitely will slow me down. he thought to himself. But there is no way it'll stop me from my job. Besides, I just got my potion delievery from Tirarian.

Corinne shouted something back at him, but Trafalgar was too busy trying to keep his balance and steer the horse in the right direction and didn't answer back. Riding an unsaddled horse proved to be quite the challenge.

It seemed he had caught Elric's attention as the man waved his hand back at Trafalgar. Once he reached Elric, he realized how bad the situation actually was. What seemed to be Elric's house had a huge gaping hole where its front once had been and out, on the street in front of the house laid two corpses, one obviously was the hyenas and the other was a gnoll. He climbed off his horse, feeling a stinging pain down his nether regions, a side-effect of the rough ride but quickly shrugged it off and approached Elric. By that time, Corinne had already caught up with him and was now all over Elric. Trafalgar stood next to them and listened to Elric talking, explaining what had happened there.

"Phew, seems you had it rough buddy" Trafalgar said when Elric finished talking and gave him a friendly pat ot the back. He then looked back at his house, "but unfortunately, your house wasn't spared the destruction. Look, if there's anything i can do to help, anything, just say it" he said, smiling.

"And I'd like to meet that hero you talk about. He must be pretty extraordinary if he can put down a monster this size by himself. As for what you asked, well let's just say, there were some casualties when the hyena rampaged through the tavern" he said.

"That is a kind offer you make. And if you and the hero are still in town I'll make sure to show you to him." Elric said with a nod. He paused for a moment as he held up his left index finger. "I need to gather some supplies. I'll be back in a moment." With that he entered back into his house.

Walking over towards the ladder, he made his ascent upwards to his shop. He went over towards the table which held his bone-saw. He grabbed it with his left hand, and noticed the askewly placed scalpel next to it. He grabbed that with his right hand.

Descending the stairs he went over to grab the sewing instruments he used on himself earlier, and kept those in his right hand as well. Elric exited the building again, glancing towards Tralfagar and Corinne "Well I am needed at the Jolly Hippogriff." He gave a nod to them as he strolled over to the tavern.

Well let's get to work. he thought to himself.

"I'm...fine." the elf blinked up at the barber, pulling away more now and wincing at the very sight of him. "You've broken your ribs? Gods above...the things really must have done a number on you. I'm just glad you're still alive and well, though I'd wish a better fate upon you than this."
She shut her eyes in another silent prayer to the elven gods above. She wasn't religious all the time, but if there was one thing she sought from them, it was to heal wounds, of any sort.
And fast.

She took her place back next to Trafalgar, arms wrapped around herself at the lingering chill of the night. Or perhaps it was just the sight of the bodies of the gnoll, and the hyena, still rotting in the side of Elric's house. "That's absolutely horrid...they seem absolutely horrid. I'll worry all I'd like, thank you, that thing could have killed you, you know. If it weren't for this...hero."
Her ears twitched a little through the curtain of red hair and she nodded vigorously at the half-elf's request. "I have to meet this mysterious stranger too. And offer him my thanks, and perhaps learn of how exactly he vanquished those horrid things. It'd be a tale beyond tales, haha. There...yes, there are a few casualties, are you sure you don't need any help..."
Her voice trailed off behind the doctor, but he was dead-set. He carried off on his way up to his storage, before she even got to finish, and then soon reappeared from the remains of his house, and made to make his way down to the Hippogriff. The good old tavern.
That wasn't so 'good old' anymore.

"There he goes..." she mused to herself, and the half-elf too, as they stood and watched the man's shape disappear into the lingering mist. "Elric is quite the determined doctor, haha. One of the things that make his business thrive. I just hope he'll be alright with the patients...and be able to salvage something of the place. Maybe he can pay Uncle Seb a visit whilst there. Hoping he's alright and all. Though he probably will be...it's Uncle Seb, after all." she rolled her eyes, before giving the man a tiny smile. "My uncle was able to take that knocking out from you, I think he's ready to face the elements in nothing more than a loincloth now, haha...hahaha!"
And she laughed, in the face of the despair in the air, because the thought was a queer one that played at her mind.

"I really should be getting home, though...it's quite late." she nodded slowly, wrapping the green of her cloak around her shoulders some more. The half-sleeves weren't much help in keeping warm, but they served much better keeping her cool during the hunts in the days. "I don't live very far from here. Well, actually, I suppose I do, I mean...it's not the closest house. But it's not the furthest either. But for someone like you, who's travelled so much, I'm sure it'd be barely the distance in comparison, haha."
Her eyelids fell heavy, and a hand came to her mouth as a little yawn made itself apparent. "Oh...goodness, pardon me."
Tired eyes now went to the horse the man had ridden bare-back, and then went back up to gaze into his red ones. Contrast made apparent in day, but now in the dark it was all the same, a murky shade.
"...good job on making it here in one piece, haha. I thought she'd give you more than just a little trouble. And bareback, too? I'm quite amazed, hah."
The silence made itself apparent of the night. It was eeriely quiet.
"I suppose the hero would still be up in one of the rooms at Elric's...unless he's fled, deeming it unsafe. You reckon it would be safe to wake him?"
A gleam of curiosity and playfulness took the blue eyes that were fixated on the half-elf's now. Almost liquid. They even moved to her eyebrows, that quirked just like her lips did at the idea.
"...or shall we find and pay a certain hero a visit, and have him tell us his story by candle-light. Who knows if we'll ever get to see them again..."

A voice in the back of her mind gave her a sharp, almost physical rapping from the inside.
Are you crazy. They'd need to get their sleep, now is no time to be bothering anyone. What time is it, anyway? It's so dark...
You must be joking.
Corinne!

The bay stallion whinnied from his position and trotted over to the elf, who stroked along the white fur on his muzzle affectionately, eyes never once leaving the half-elf's though as they sought an answer, even as the stallion pressed his nose into her neck and her clothes, and snorted once or twice.

James gave a yawn as he ran a hand through Anya's hair. She looked peaceful, he decided, laying against his chest. Over the pitter patter of the rain, he imagined the soft sound of her breath. Were it not for that and the icy sensation of her form pressed against him, this scene would almost feel normal.

Down below, the knight heard the chatter and clatter of new voices talking to Elric, and their walking about the ruins of the ground floor.

"....They better not wake Anya." he said to himself, shifting his weight.

"...good grief." Shork had been drinking some of Pucksy's prized ale when the gnoll smashed through the door, but his aching head was not caused by alcohol - the sheer force of the giant gnoll had knocked him off one of the fickle stools and with his vertigo already on the edge, caused him to land skull-first on the unforgiving hardwood floor. As tough as his orcish head was, it wasn't meant to take a fall like that, especially at his age, he thought as he got up groaning and holding said part of his body with one hand, looking around the ruined establishment. It was somewhat weird that the gnoll hadn't eaten him outright... but looking around the room it seemed like most of the customers had been spared, only knocked aside with ease with some having claw marks on their bodies as if the gnoll had casually swiped at them throughout his rampage, but it didn't look like they were wounded all too badly - with the notable exception of somebody who very much seemed to have a good chunk of his torso missing, laying on the floor unconscious and bleeding out quickly. The half-orc let out another groan, he was used to the sight of blood but seeing it drip out of a fellow man, one that belonged to his community, was still a little disconcerting. His head still aching, he got on his hands and knees, crawling over to the injured man and pilfering an aristocrat's purple cloak on the way - he might have to deal with the consequences later, but that'd be something he could deal with more than one of his villagers dying. "Man, you're in bad shape..." he muttered under his breath looking at the frail, pale body under him, before gently pressing the cleaner part of the fabric against the bleeding wound, soaking it with blood quickly. It might not do much, or anything even, but he resigned to the fact that he was neither skilled nor equipped to take better care of it, instead yelling into the night as he tried to stem the bleeding. "Uh, I need a doctor or somethin' around here! Anyone?"

Trafalgar looked at the man walking away from them, heading towards the tavern. Trafalgar felt sorry for what Elric had been through but it seemed he was coping with it quite well, as good as one whose house was almost destroyed by a giant hyena can anyway. Atleast he was lucky getting away with just a couple of broken ribs, not something the man back at tavern could say for himself...

"He's a doctor too huh? I wouldn't have guessed if you didn't mention it. Well, now that I think about it, he does certainly make the type..." he said, even more impressed by Elric. There weren't many people like him left in the world...

Upon her mentioning what happened with her uncle earlier, Trafalgar chuckled "I doubt i would be able to do that had he not been as drunk as he was...but really, it was more out of annoyance than anything. He was ruining the atmosphere with his antics, not that it didn't get ruined anyway..." he said, glancing back at he hyena's corpse.

Then Trafalgar noticed how much tired she was and shivering from the cold, "If you were cold you only needed to ask" he said and took off his coat, giving it to her. "I can get by without it, although now with the Hipogriff at such a condition and assuming, actually no, I'm sure all the other inns have closed down hours ago, it would be hard to find a place to spent the night at" he said, thinking about what he would do.

"Hmm? The hero? Well..." Trafalgar pondered the thought for a while, "well, i suppose we could try and see if they are upstairs...I don't really know. It's up to you really" he said, raising his shoulders.

“HEY! You, you there guard boy, over there! Job for your ass!”
Private Kyril of the Estermerean Guard was sure he was going to vomit. Sure, he’d been in a few ops with the Fayport Legions and seen a maimed hand or two, but never had he seen the aftermath of a giant insane hyena rampaging through the bloody market square. Shopkeepers cowered behind the chunks of wood that used to be their stalls. Bodies of gory and gruesome deaths beyond number peppered the flagstones. And, of course, blood. Blood everywhere. Kyril decided to relieve himself and bent over before running towards the source of the voice that had indicated him.
“Hey, yeah, you there, young fellah.” It was a scruffy-looking middle-aged man. Looked quite old, but still had the vitality to withstand a bloody gash to his right arm. 

“Oh, okay, sir. Hmm.” Kyril took out a roll of bandages and proceeded to methodically wrap the man’s arm. “Don’t move it for a while.”

“Alright, sirrah.” The old man seemed eager to wave Kyril off, as if he was anxious to prove his strength and endurance in a time of crisis. “Go, go on. Shoo. Someone else might need your help out here in this ‘oddamn shithole.”
“EEEEEEEEEEEEK!”
“See, fella? Nice lady needs help. G’night.”
“Uhm... good night to you too, sir.” Kyril hastily saluted the old man before again rushing over to some other poor soul’s cry for help. It was an elderly, once noble-looking old lady bending over an older man. The old man’s leg was half run through, and nearly-severed bone peeked through the flesh. Even flies flocked to the afflicted area. When Kyril had finished bending over again, he found another guard by the old lady’s side attempting to decipher the sniffs and sobs and bawls that stumbled out of the poor woman’s mouth. 
“Kyril.”

“Mister Remington?”
Ah, Remington. Not Kyril’s best buddy in the force. He was once normal, but had recently been keeping to himself in dark corners, brooding and silently fawning over some new dagger he had got from Pelor knew where. But Remington was still a corporal and Kyril was a private, and Kyril knew better than to question his authority.
“This man will not survive with mere bandages, Kyril.” Remington looked up at his comrade with a grim look. “We need... professional help.”
“Oh, I know a good fella who give professional help. Name’s Elric. Barber-surgeon. Gave me a right good shave a few days back, and I’ve seen him amputate a pretty leg or two if needed.”
Remington’s eyes shone with interest for the first time in a very long time. “Elric? You mean Elric Barber?”
“Uh... yes, sir.”

“We must see him. Immediately.”

“Sir, I’ll just stay back to take care of-”

“There is no time. Come with me.”

“But, sir-”

“[i]Come with me.[i]”


Aha. Now to silence the little brat.
“Hey, sir, why are you stopping? We ain’t at Elric’s place ye-”
Remington felt a tinge of satisfaction as Kyril’s lifeless body dropped seamlessly into the mound of refuse. He quietly and discreetly wiped his dagger clean with a red handkerchief bearing a golden insignia - the insignia of the Nisceni Empire.
It wasn’t far now to Elric’s place. Remington felt like a rat, taking all the back alleys and wallowing through the mounds of shit, refuse, and trash. But how could he refuse five grand in gold? It would surely be worth it.
Ah. Grushtov had done his job well.
The same could not be said for the door.
Enough said.
Remington silently tiptoed behind what used to be a complete wall, at the agreed rendezvous.
Three, two, one...
“Jel?”

Ah, shit.

As if on cue. Elric mused to himself as Shork shouted out the need for a doctor. "Well I suppose I fit the role. But I am a Barber-surgeon. Now then, I have brought a few supplies." He glanced around looking for the most injured parties. "I came here as quickly as possible, didn't have time to bring all of the supplies. I may need to makeshift some, if needed." He paused for a moment as he noticed the man with a nasty puncture wound on the floor.

He walked up to him and knelt down. Elric bender over again grimacing in pain, as he observed the viscera of the man. Elric placed down the bonesaw, and swaped the needle and twine into that hand. Elric glanced back towards Shork, "Are any others in an unstablecondition?" He rushed out. He turned the man's head to the side and checked his mouth. Blood, yes there was blood. Drawing his scalpel he reached for the nearest and cleanest cloth he could take, as he cut a chunk from it. He then used it to clear up the blood.

"Never been so happy to see ya..." His head still throbbing, Shork got a glance of Elric entering the ruined inn and kneeling down next to the patient who looked most injured, taking a step back and letting the barber do his business. While he was sure he could do basic first aid himself, and while he didn't really know the local barber-surgeon that well, at best being acquaintances with him from the few times Shork felt like he needed a haircut or had a wound he didn't trust himself with, and while the hunter didn't think Elric had ever received proper medical training - he was still the one most people in Estermere, including himself, trusted with their aches and wounds and as far as Shork had heard, there hadn't been a single complaint about his work. As such, it was plain as day that nobody in town was better suited to the task at hand than Elric Barber.
Still holding his aching head with his free hand, Shork nodded, taking the thick cloak off the man's wound and standing up to get a better look at the inn and the few people that were unfortunate enough to stand in the gnoll's path of destruction. "Naw, doesn't look like it... a fair few passed out I think, or were knocked out, some small cuts here and there... I ain't an expert, but I think the others are stable for now. Though plenty of work to be done, for sure."
The half-orc groaned as the treacherous floor under him seemed to billow and try to throw him off his balance, making him stumble across the room rather helplessly until he came to a stop leaning against a solid pillar, his voice firm and unyielding even with a tinge of pain behind it. "Ah, and I hit my head a little harder than I thought at first, but i'd rather you take care of your patients first, Master Barber. I think I might still be needed tonight - might be that wasn't the only one of them, after all."

Glancing towards Shork, he gave a nod, "I'll check out you and the others." He returned to glancing at the wound, examining the damage that was done to the man in question. He spoke up again, though he focused on the most injured patient. "Guardsman Ferris said the same thing, before he headed off to continue his patrol. We all have our part to play for the community."

He took a moment to be check on the size of the chest wound. Oh yes, it was a nasty series of claw marks that punctured the wound, that was covered with blood, but not nearly as much as he expected, it was as if someone, probably Shork cleaned up the wound. Nonetheless the blood that was still there was, as if it was an overflowing mug of ale. Elric quickly produced his scalpel as he tore through the man's bloodied, as the stitches that held it together snapped apart. Now then, I can truly get to work. Elric thought, persisting through the pain he felt, as he knew he had to save this man. Tossing away the torn parts of the tunic with his free hand, he glanced at the wound again, taking great care in observing the patient's lungs. Fortunately, the lungs themselves didn't appeared to be cut into, or any other internal organs. He checked for any traces of shrapnel that was in the body, and didn't happen to find any. He pressed down onto the wound hard, in order to help keep the man from bleeding any further, and more importantly to help get any excess air from the body out. He took out his needle and quickly placed the thread within it as he began sowing up.

As he was doing his work, "If you find any others who are injured, bring them back here." he mentioned to Shork. Elric continued back to his task.

12 stared down at Rosa curiously. She wondered what this female-toy was doing being so accommodating, but her thoughts quickly derailed into what Lucien was doing in the office. If she wanted a severe beating and possibly death, she'd go visit the office at night - she wasn't that stupid not to read a master's body language for warning signs, not at this point in her life.

Well, now it was just her, the Sudalian and the concubine. Right away, concubine asked if 12 was particularly hungry- the answer was yes, she was literally starving. Her stomach revived itself at the mention of food and growled particularly loudly, to which 12 promptly send a balled fist into her burlap-covered abdomen in an attempt to stop it, staring sheepishly at her painful feet. Time to be courageous...

12 went into a kneeling position, her mass of long, lanky and straight hair obscuring her view as she stared at the (incredibly plush) carpet. Since 12 wasn't sure what the social hierarchy was in this house, she opted to play it safe and start at the bottom. In her mangled mixture of Common, 12 managed to ask "Thisss one w-would like somet'ing to eat, Madam...." whilst waiting for what she believed to be a swift beating, or a long and painful one.

The inside of the house was nice. Probably the nicest house Rhone had ever step foot in. He temporarily forgot his disgust, replacing it in with awe as he looked around. And then the woman, who he was now not so sure was his master's daughter, began to speak. She asked if they wanted food, and offered them a chance to wash up. Rhone noticed the winged girl ball up out of the corner of his eye, and turn to watch her sink on her knees to beg. He felt a mixture of pity and hatred, the hatred aimed at the people who had trained her to act this way.

"That would be nice," Rhone said, speaking a bit more firmly. He certainly wasn't going to grovel on his knees. Perhaps, sooner or later, he could teach the winged girl not to do so as well. If their new master said otherwise, Rhone had a feeling he would take advantage of this new 'no chains' policy.

"Oh, please don't do that... begging thing. And my name's Rosa, not Madam." Rosa reprimanded the kneeling harpy, her face a strange mix of confusion and embarrassment. People had kneeled to her before, servants in the noble houses that she sometimes visited, but this felt different. Those people had been told to do that as part of their job - she probably had to do that every time she wanted something.

She asked the two slaves/servants to stay where they were and skipped down the hallway, whistling as she went. The kitchens were always well stocked and prepared for guests, so putting something together shouldn't be difficult. But what if they were used to something different to what they had in stock? Would they still eat it?

No hitting. So, she must almost certainly be the concubine, right? Who goes around with a name as preposterous as 'Rosa', what does that even mean? And, more importantly, what in the world was that Sudalian doing, speaking so assertively to his superior? Rosa squirmed at the sight of her kneeling on the floor. Her 'begging thing' seemed second nature to 12, but she gave an order to stop kneeling, so 12 got to her feet. It was a painful process as bones clicked and her wings ruffled.

The concubine Rosa ordered 12 and the other slave to remain where they were as she skipped away in the labyrinth of plus corridors. 12 watched in awe as the flames burst into live in the torches as she passed, and she was left with the other slave, on their own, in the middle of a large house.

12 spent a few moments staring at Rhone awkwardly. The language barrier wasn't prepared to buckle, and 12 wasn't very efficient in Common to have a lengthy conversation with him. However, 12 felt a twinge of jealousy - he looked significantly better kept than she did. And what if he hated her? Her kind weren't on friendly terms with the Sudalians, as far as she knew.

"Heeh-lo, I am 12." said 12, bowing instinctively in her introduction. It didn't matter if he was also in these invisible chains, it just...she couldn't face the possibility of the consequences if she didn't. She was too afraid of what Rhone might do if she didn't treat him as a superior. As she raised from her bow, she peered up at Rhone. She would've said more, but she didn't know if she was allowed to yet.

Rhone glanced at the winged girl, noticing her staring at him. She was a strange little person, yet she reminded him of something. Old wives tails about winged creatures that roamed the deserts and snatched up men. Rhone, as a child, had been terrified of the stories. But now he thought they were a bit ridiculous. Not that it mattered. He was thousands of miles from his homeland, and his country was no longer a country.

He found himself startled when the girl bowed to him to introduce herself. He took a step back and shook his head.
"Don't bow to me," He said, "I'm not better than you." To him, it was true. They were both slaves; a lesser breed. They shouldn't have to treat each other as if they were on different levels.

12 stood up, her dark eyes widening at Rhone's reaction. Then her gaunt face pulled itself into a big, elated smile, revealing rows of teeth which had been crudely blunted down by a file. She was especially pleased that he ordered her not to bow to him; some slaves preferred it when they had something to bully, but it seemed Rhone wasn't one of them. That made her temporary stay here all the more enjoyable...but her smile faded quite quickly, as she looked down at herself.

Temporary stay. How long was it going to take for her to become fit and healthy? What if her wings were beyond all hope of being saved? And furthermore, where was she meant to go afterwards? She had never been presented with such an easy escape route. It seemed almost too easy, so 12 wanted to be as combat-ready as possible. But she needed to know her route. Looking up at Rhone, she noticed that the slave was still staring at her and probably expected her to say something. "When I am heal-thy, am going to Sudal." hissed 12, keeping her voice low. "Where do I go, to get Sudal?"

Her hands started to tremble just a little as she waited for the answer.

Rhone looked back at the slave girl, a frown set on his face. "Good luck with that," He said flatly, "Sudal hasn't existed since I was a boy. There was a war with Quirek. The entire country was taken over and driven straight into the ground. There's nothing to go back to."

Had Sudal still been a healthy and thriving country, Rhone would have run away and gone back years ago. As it was, if he went back now, he'd likely be recaptured and resold. It wasn't worth the trouble.

Whatever 12 was going to say next was lost to the sound of the kitchen door slamming. Rosa's dainty footsteps resounded through the hallway, her arms struggling with two large platters.

"I don't know what you guys eat," she admitted "so I got you a bit of everything."
And by everything, she meant everything. The platters strained under the weight of the number of foods she had carefully arranged on it.
Rosa was clearly a girl with an appetite for fruit. For both of the slaves there was a vine of grapes, some sliced apples, half a pear, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries and a variety of nuts.
Sadly, though, there was a severe lack of meat, only a slice of venison and mutton each.
But she made up for that with dessert. Oh, the desserts. There was a variety of buns, each leaking cream, jam or custard, cakes peppered with raisin and carrots, a nut treat smothered in honey, scones with butter melting on them.... it was like she was trying to fatten them up.
And in the middle of it all - a ceramic glass of warm milk and honey. There was such a thing as going overboard.
"This one's my specialty" she said sheepishly, pointing to a small, pink pudding cut into the shape of a heart. It was, of course, rose pudding, Rosa's favourite food of all time.

"Oh, Cain! I haven't made enough, have I? I'm so sorry, please forgive me!" Rosa's 'serving a noble' instincts kicked in, temporarily forgetting the people she was serving were below her in the social heirarchy, not above.

12's face fell into a passive expression as her entire world crumbled in on herself. Sudal was gone. For years, years that had been her only mission, to just go home where she thought the Sudalians would've won and return to how it was. 12 sat on the floor and stared into space for a moment or two as she felt her resolve to escape swirl down the Sudal-shaped hole in her heart.

She started to tremble with the effort of not bursting into tears right there and then - she was, admittedly, doing surprisingly well for someone who was just told her entire home country was dead and gone. Maybe because, in the back of her head, she knew it was a very slim chance in the first place - 12 supposed that once she got here, she thought she had a considerably larger chance and didn't think of the other factors in her escape route too hard.

And then the food arrived.

12 had never seen that much food in her life - admittedly, she has, but it wasn't all laid out for her. Everything looked delicious and enticing, and there was just -so much-....momentarily, 12 forgot about her spiral into grief at the sight of it all. As she calmed down a little, she analysed the food and found out it was...primarily inedible. Damnit! She couldn't have most of the things on show here, because they were either full of sugar or full of grains, and 12 wasn't able to digest those properly.

12 waited until all of the food was set out and pretty much pounced onto the only slivers of meat available, grabbing them first and practically inhaling them with animalistic ferocity. Then she got up, politely stepped back, and stared at the food for a while.

She -couldn't- give up now. She was in the best position she could possibly be for a slave, and that food was a prime example of how she could abuse what she considered to be the stupidity of her masters until she was strong enough to-...to...to do what? Where could she go now? What could she do?

With a sinking feeling, 12 realised that she was probably still going to be a slave even after she had become stronger. She promptly lost her appetite (it wasn't as if she could eat anything there anyway) and stared at her feet dully, before pulling her gaze up to Rosa. "Where is...uh, sleep-rooms?" asked 12 huskily, trying to keep the growl out of her voice.

Rhone was distracted from the slave girl's behaviors when the food arrived. He wasn't nearly as picky as the bird girl, but his stomach could only hold so much. Rhone took the plate and thanked Rosa before sitting down to eat. He explored the variety, taking a bite or two of everything before deciding that he was full. He wasn't used to such rich foods; if he ate too much, he'd likely get sick.

When the bird girl asked about their sleeping quarters, Rhone stood. He'd been up for several days, unable to sleep in the conditions that the slave traders had offered. He could use some rest as well. But maybe a bath first. The woman had promised them a chance to clean up.

"What wash room are we to use?" He asked, assuming that the slaves wouldn't use the same tub or washing room as their master.

"You're done already?" Rosa said, a little sadly. She hadn't been expecting them to finish so quickly. Here, meals that went on for half an hour were considered quick.
"Of course. I should have realised. You won't be used to having so much."
She gathered the remaining food, not quite sure what to do with it. In the end, she settled for putting them on a nearby table, though not before taking a few treats for herself.

She needed sleep just as much as the servants, she thought, as she let out a rather unladylike yawn. But she wasn't going to bed dirty, and she sure as hell wasn't letting the slaves mess up the beds either.

"The bath and beds are just upstairs. Follow me, please." Rosa smiled and walked up the great central staircase, servants in tow. She wondered if they'd ever had a bath before.
She remembered the first time she'd had a bath - sliding into the warm, soapy water under the careful eye of Lucien, diving under to see how long she could hold her breath, stepping out the water to discover it had gone brown. Perhaps a similiar thing would happen to the slaves.

The upstairs was as decadent and as expensive as the downstairs. The doors were made of heavy oak, the wallpaper was a dark blue and the carpet was the same red as downstairs, although this time it covered the whole floor.

"Ah... It seems we have a problem" Rosa stopped outside a door, painted whte to distinguish it from the tows of dull brown doors. "You see, when Lucien bought this place, he only meant us two to live in it. This is the only washroom available to the three of us."
She thought for a moment, considering the options.
"So we'll have to go in one after another, and that means we'll have to wait. Of course, we could go in two at a time, but..." she left the suggestion hanging.

12 stared at Rose and Rhone uncomprehendingly. They wanted a bath, there were three people, surely that wasn't very hard to figure out? Then again, it depended on the size of the bath. Shrugging to herself (mentally, of course, 12 was too obedient to shrug) 12 made a funny little movement - she was going to kneel down but instead just sort of lurched forward, stopped herself, and kept her head and back bowed painfully due to the weight of the wings. "Madam may have the firssst bath, if it is her wissh..." offered 12, straightening up and going to do what any good slave would do - run a bath.

12 wasn't entirely in awe of the bathroom because she expected nothing less from these types of people. It was no less extravagant than the rest of the mansion but it was still a huge culture shock to 12, but this time she didn't show any external reaction. She paced over to the huge bath, made sure the plug was in, and started running hot water from the tap.

This part never ceased to amaze her. Water, in a temperature of their choosing, ordered at will from a tiny little pipe. She crouched down and watched the water running curiously, mouth slightly open, head tilted to the side. Let Rhone and Rose argue about who goes in first, thought 12, this was far more interesting to her than petty things like privacy.

She's going to end up hurting herself if she keeps on like that, Rosa thought. Those wings cannot be good for her back.

Wait, aren't her bones hollow, like a bird's? How else would she be able to fly? What a strange pair Lucien has bought himself.

The thought of Lucien reminded Rosa that he was upstairs, locked in that office of his, cut off from the outside world. He wouldn't come downstairs until the next morning, so she could pretty much do whatever the hell she wanted.

Still, she didn't like the idea of taking her things off, especially in front of a boy.

Wait, what was she thinking? This was Rosa Le Croix, the same girl who wore outfits that courtesans raised an eyebrow at, who once ran through the streets in her underwear to get help for the poor sod who had collapsed at their door, the very same girl who almost agreed to be the third concubine to some lowly noblewoman to escape the law. She was hardly a beacon of modesty around here.

Screw it. Prudence was overrated.
Rosa threw off her skirt-corset combo, revealing her undergarments. Those too were quickly abandoned. Rosa now stood naked in the middle of the washroom in clear sight of Rhone and Sarah if they were to look up.

"It's more practical if we all go in at once." She confessed, her face somewhat resembling a fresh tomato "And I'm not taking no for an answer. You are not a bunch of lowly slaves anymore - you don't have to wait for me to finish. Just... don't do anything vulgar. Please?"

Before she hopped into the bath Sarah had so kindly run, Rosa caught sight of herself in the mirror and couldn't help but sigh. She was pale, almost white, and slim. Despite her age, she was almost flat-chested. She wasn't childlike, but she wasn't adult either. She was at that awkward stage between the two - what did humans call it? Teenage? - but even humans who were her comparitive age looked more adult than her.

She undid her pigtails, letting her curly hair droop onto her shoulders and down her back, before clambering into the bath.
"That's a perfect temperature, Sarah. Thank you." she smiled at the harpy, before frowning. "Well, come on in! You must have been stuck in those filthy rags all day! You too, Rhone, I won't hear any arguments. And that's an order!"

Rhone stood back from the door. He had gotten a curious glance inside, only to see that the bathroom was just as fancy as the rest of the house. He felt as though he shouldn't be allowed to go in there and dirty it up. Then again, he would probably be the one cleaning it. Or maybe the winged girl would, who knew.

All he knew was that their master's daughter/mistress/whore/whatever she was should probably bath first. She was certainly higher on the pecking order than the two slaves. Rhone already assumed he would go last because, you know, ladies first. He stood back out of the way and motioned for Rosa to go ahead.
"I'll wait," He said. "You may go before me."

12 stared at Rhone and didn't bat an eyelid as Rose finally shed those weird concubine clothes. After all, she didn't seem to mind nudity, but it was clear that Rose almost certainly did. She still couldn't comprehend why they ALL didn't take a bath, but...ah well, if Rhone insists. The bath was certainly big enough for the three of them, that's for sure. What really puzzled her was Rosa's reference to this lie that they weren't slaves anymore. Was she in on the plan with Lucien? Perhaps she wasn't a mere concubine.

12 took Rosa's example and stripped off. There wasn't much difference, really - she, too, was pale, flat-chested, but also unhealthily skinny, to the point where you could see her ribs and hips. As well as that, she was filthy all over - she certainly wasn't stuck in her potato-sack-suit for just one day, perhaps a few months would be a better estimate. The only difference under the suit was the fact she had feathers 'down there' instead of hair. She shut the door (more since Rosa was uncomfortable about Rhone lurking around the entrance) and stared at the bath.

Never before had 12 ever taken a bath. She's made many of them, sure, but she had no clue what she was meant to do with it since she was usually ushered out of the room. The best way to get clean was usually rolling around in sand, grit, or snow depending on the place she was stationed in. It was all an entirely new experience, so it was only natural that when Rosa ordered her to 'get in', she hesitated.

She dipped one filthy foot into the water and blinked. Then she carefully stepped into the bath and looked down at her shins whilst her mind carefully calculated what the next step of the process would happen to be - it only took a while, though, because soon afterwards she made an excited chirping noise and started rolling around in the water, getting it everywhere. The dirt started slipping off her body as she twisted, splashed and splattered the bathroom with muddy water. It seems like she has literally no clue on how to take a bath.

She was like a mewling child, Rosa thought, playing with the water, getting dirt everywhere. Well, she made the mess, she was going to have to clean it up.

"Hey, now! Careful where you're aiming that stuff!" the Cambion yelped after a particilarly filthy glob of water splattered her in the face. "The bath is meant to get you cleaned, not more dirty!"

Even she wasn't this excited for her first time, and she'd had lice, blood and fluids of questionable origin and consistency coating her. This girl just looked plain muddy, yet here she was, chirping and splashing like... well, there wasn't really an analogy for it. She was excited, that's all.

She reached for the soap to start scrubbing thoroughly. As she applied it, she couldn't help but think that this one wouldn't have a clue about how to properly wash herself. Soap was probably a concept far beyond her. How would she react to the little crystals that made the bath go all bubbly, or the liquid-gel stuff from the east that washed hair specifically? She was going to need proffesional help.

Oh, Astaroth. What about the stuff in her room? You know, the stuff that made her mouth go red, or the stuff that made her cheeks pink? How would the harpy react when she saw that?

Trying not to think of her new friend covered from head to toe in hyper-expensive make-up and doing her best to avoid staring at the patch of feathers covering her middle (Feathers? She'd heard of hair, but never feathers. Although, since she was yet to grow hair 'down there', she didn't really know what she wad meant to have.) she handed the bar of soap to Sarah. "You just kind of rub that all over. And, er, could you turn around a moment? I have to clean my... you know... " In the space of a few seconds, Rosa had gone from pale white to deep red, with enough heat to rival the sun.

Rhone was happy to just wait outside while the women bathed, and then go in after them. That was fine by him. But the new mistress, whatever her authority over him was, insisted that he come in with them. He tried to not let out a dreaded groan. Was this what the female slaves felt like when they had to bath with their masters? He was pretty sure this was exactly like that.

His movements as he followed the females into the bathroom showed that he was extremely uncomfortable with this. His dark cheeks didn't blush, but the tips of his ears were turning a shade of burning red. He made a habit of looking everywhere in the room except at the undressing women. This was wrong, and he was going to get in so much trouble for this should the master find out. He just had a gut feeling.

Rhone took his sweet time as he unwrapped his head scarf. Maybe if he took long enough, they would be mostly done by the time he got there. Under his headwear, his black hair was pressed down, greasy, and limp. The thing was clearly filthy, but seeing as he only owned two articles of clothing, Rhone had been hesitant to abandon it. He was a fairly modest man. Just because he was forced to run around half naked didn't mean he liked it.

He discarded the head wrap on the floor next to the slave girl's clothes, then took his sweet time fiddling with the wrap around his waist. He could hear the bird girl making all sorts of strange noises, and tried his damnest not to let his imagination get away from him. When he finally discarded the wrap, also on the floor, he was the shining pinnacle of uncomfortable. He kept his back very straight and his face stony as he walked over to the tub, water now brown. The room was becoming of mess because of this bird girl. Luckily for him, the murky water made a good cover to keep the womens' -or even his for that matter, prying eyes at bay.

He stepped into the tub gingerly and sat down at the other end. It was fairly large. Soap wasn't something he had much experience with, but at least he knew how to properly wash himself. He cupped his hands with water and ran it through his hair, which quickly jumped back to life with tight little curls as soon as it was wet.. Once he felt as though it was decently clean, or at least less dirty, he began to wash the grime off his skin. Or try to. A loofah would have come in handy, actually. He was pretty sure he was already a few skin tones lighter.

12 didn't get all of the blushing. She clicked happily as Rhone got in too, wondering if it was his first bath as well. Abruptly, she stopped moving to peer at Rhone and how he was washing with an almost predatory stare, observing how he did it. Ah, so you have to get your hair wet first, and then start scrubbing at your skin? 12 shut her eyes as she fully submerged herself, blowing bubbles under the brown water.

When she resurfaced with a splash, she straightened up, obediently turning away from Rosa and staring at the other end of the bathroom that she now had to clean up before going to bed. Her long mass of straight hair hung over her chest, covering up the lady-parts with ease...but it didn't look like she was getting any cleaner in this thing. If anything, it was making her look worse - feathers held in by sheer dirt alone were now falling out into the bathtub, her hair wasn't even remotely affected by water and soap alone, and the more grime that was removed from her person, the more scars were revealed.

And admittedly, 12 had far too many scars to be healthy. Some of them were just little nicks and scratches, but across her back were what are unmistakeably whip lashes. On her shoulder, someone carved a rude word for a female and surrounded it in a love-heart. Her wings were devoid of scarring, but they look incredibly painful, oozing blood and pus everywhere from the wounds on them...it was almost certainly not going to be fixed with a bath alone.

12 thought about her wings miserably, leaning on the other end of the bath. By reflex, she spread them out, trying to pretend she was in the air again...but it was no use, she was grounded and she didn't know if her wounds would heal. She slumped in the bath, letting the other two wash - after all, it was a pointless effort on her behalf.

The room was getting muckier by the moment, which was hardly surprising given that Sarah was the messiest bath-taker this side of Sudal. Thankfully, it was only muddy water, not proper dirt.

Rosa eventually had enough. She had cleaned herself thoroughly and now felt like incredible sleepy. Lavender might smell nice, but it does the tired no favours.

There were towels in the corner, so she grabbed one and started to dry herself off.
"I think you two should stay in the rooms next to mine. Or, Miss Sarah, if you want, I've got a spare bed you could... Oh!"
The gasp at the end was because Rosa had turned around and seen the scars and falling feathers. She felt simutaneously nausous, from seeing the blood and ooze dripping from the harpy's wings, and angry, from seeing the cruel injuries and cruelties inflincted on not only her, but some of the more distinct scars on Rhone.

"Beasts! How dare they!" she seethed, eyes burning with fire "I'll wring their filthy, cowardly necks!" Few words could describe how much sheer fury the girl felt at that moment. All she wanted to do was find the slaver that did this and do the same things to him or her three times over.

With some effort, Rosa managed to calm herself down. It wasn't easy - she still looked like she wanted to maul something - but she managed to soften her features considerably before she continued.
"You'll want to get them looked at. I'll take you both to Elric tomorrow, see what he can do. I can patch you up just now, though."

She hated calling on her demonic powers. They were unnatural, not a real part of her, and given to her by Lamashu of all creatures. It couldn't have been Abbadon, or Moloch or even Arahabaki. It had to be Lamashu.
But in cases like this, they were a blessing. Sure, they stung like a hive of wasps and were as draining as running a marathon with chains around your ankles, but they had their benifits.

Reaching her hand out to the bathing slaves, Rosa began to mutter words in the demonic language. As she spoke, small red circles of magic appeared around the multitude of cuts and scars that marked the two Sudalians. As the chants got more intense, the mystical happened. The blood and pus began to dry up and vanish, and the cuts began to close.

Rosa finally released the spell. Now, instead of gaping, open wounds, there were almost unnoticable lines, undetectable to someone who wasn't looking for them. The scars that were already there, however, had only faded - they were still very visible.

"I think it's time for bed..." Rosa gasped breathlessly.

Rhone had to admit, he was scared. Magic kind of freaked him out, and whatever this woman was doing, it sounded demonic. He was about to pull away from her when he noticed the cut on his arm slowly healing. A few more scars here and there were fading away, and his swollen black eye was receding. He remained still for a few more moments until she was done, then looked himself over to see the results. Most of his recent injuries were lessened. His older scars where almost gone.

He looked up at the mistress. "Thank you," He said honestly. Rhone decided that she was right about bedtime, and got out of the tub to dry off. Only....he didn't know which towel he was supposed to use. The dripping man stood in the middle of the floor awkwardly.
"Er...which one may I use?" He asked, gesturing to the towels.

12 tensed up, crouching in the bath-tub as her wounds started to heal. She kept her gaze strictly on Rosa as the magic worked...what kind of concubine summons up dark magic like that? Lucien certainly had some weird tastes in women, that was for sure. 12 didn't know what she thought about the magic yet...it wasn't very strong, but it was very scary. She made a mental note to avoid insulting Rosa in the near-future.

And then, just as quickly, bath-time was over. 12 didn't -feel- any different from normal, she just managed to budge a slight layer of grime off her body...but she still needed to clean the place up after managing to get half of the bathwater out of the bath itself.

12 stood up, the water tumbling off her damaged wings with ease but clinging to her hair and leaving little trails of clean skin as it ran down her body. She stepped out of the bath and picked up one of the many, many towels in the bathroom, pulling on her burlap dress. When she saw her toes, she arched an eyebrow; the toes weren't purple with infection anymore, but have settled down to an inflamed red...something still needed to be done about her talons, however, which have grown far too long.

Instead of using the fluffy towel on herself, 12 started rubbing the dirty water methodically off the bathroom surfaces, never leaving a spot until it shined. She seemed to work in a quiet, obedient manner, blocking out everything else - even if Rosa and Rhone stood up now, it was unlikely 12 would notice them too much. She just shivered with cold as she went about cleaning the bathroom.

"J-just take any of them" Rosa struggled to say "No-one will m-mind"

The bath hadn't quite had its desired effect. Whilst both were definately cleaner, neither seemed out-and-out 'clean'. Still, at least she couldn't smell them anymore, and they looked far better without all the dirt and grime caked into their skin. Even better, they no longer had any open wounds, which meant less chance of infection. Physically, at least, they were on the road to recovery. Mentally... she'd work on that.

"Sarah, leave it. We can deal with it in the morning." Rosa said to the cleaning harpy. "Come on, my room is just down the hall."

She staggered out of the bathroom, leaving her clothes and her towel behind, still dizzy from the spell. Slowly, carefully, she made her way down the hall, counting the rooms she passed. She almost fainted at one point, spared only by grabbing one of the slaves for balance.

That was the problem with demonic magic. Whenever you used it, it left you at the mercy of those nearby. Not for the first time, Rosa was glad that she had some reliable people to keep her safe in her post-demon daze.

"This room." Rosa stopped. She hardly had to say it, though - her name was emblazoned on a plaque that adorned the door. "I think I need to lie down..."

Rhone did as she said and took one of the clean towels, drying himself off before wrapping around his waist as his previous clothing had been worn. He then looked back at the mistress, noticing that she didn't look too well. Maybe it was time for her to go to bed as well. Rhone stepped over to where the bird girl, Sarah, was cleaning and offered a hand to help her up. At least the mistress had the decency to let the girl rest before putting her to work.

Rhone grabbed an extra towel on the way out of the bathroom and followed after Rosa so that he could drape it over her. Seeing that she was so used to be exposed didn't surprise him too much. It only cemented his notion that she was, indeed, a sex servant to their master. The thought made his jaw tighten with anger. He wasn't sure he would sit by and let it continue. He'd learned from his past the nature of beastly men such as his master.

Rhone stayed close behind the woman in case she fell over. She didn't seem very steady by the time they reached her room. He opened the door for her and stood out of the way to let her in. Hopefully she would at least make it to the bed before passing out.

12 straightened up, peering at Rhone confusedly. That's not how you're meant to do things, you're meant to avoid work unless ordered to...what kind of slave was he? Her eyes settled on the dragon tattoo for a moment, thoughtfully; it reminded her of the shiny "12" burnt onto her collarbones, just above her breasts. She pulled a small smile at the offer to help- until she stared at Rosa dully as she was ordered to stop working on the bathroom. Well, she wasn't about to complain about it, at least...

Notably, Rosa, who was the most ashamed of showing her skin, found it suitable to totter along the hallways in the nude. Again, concubines tend to do that sometimes. Oddly enough, Rhone was walking closely behind with a towel ready to wrap her up and catch her if she falls. again, 12 started pondering over the nature of the slave, to willingly serve above and beyond that which was expected of them. Perhaps Rhone did not want to escape after all; this made 12 rethink her own strategies again. She'd have to see whether or not her new masters were being manipulative before she made a final decision, and, by the looks of things, she had a long time to consider that option whilst she recovered.

Once the trio reached the bedroom, 12 started to act oddly. For starters, she stood a few paces away from the doorway and looked inside nervously, clenching her hands into fists, the feathers on her wings ruffling up. She seemed distracted by her thoughts...it didn't take a scientist to figure out why the woman who may-or-may-not have been a sex slave is nervous about going inside her master's bedroom. 12 lingered a little way off, wondering whether or not she was going to be 'asked' (ordered.) to go inside.

"Well, um, I guess this is good night" Rosa managed to say.
"Rhone, you can have the room next to mine. Sarah, you can have the other one, unless you'd rather sleep with me."

Yes, she knew how that sounded, but she was tok tired and dazed to care. If Sarah misunderstood, it was unlikely she'd try anything. And on the off-chance she did, Rosa could always correct her.

She tottered into the room and collapsed onto the grand, four-poster bed, not bothering to put her night-clothes on or wrap herself in the duvet. There, she shut her eyes and tried to sleep.

Rhone stood in the hall until Rosa had gone to bed. He would have liked to have gotten some new clothing, as was promised to him, but the towel around his waist was honestly nothing less than what he was used to wearing. Perhaps cleaner. He turned to Sarah, who had neglected to get a towel for her own self. Perhaps they could find her a blanket or something until they got decent clothing. If they ever got decent clothing.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Rhone asked quietly, keeping his voice down lest their new superior should hear. He wasn't sure how trustable Rosa was just yet. He was, frankly, worried that she might be more loyal to their master than your typical concubine. The master was what worried him the most, however. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that the mysterious man could make his way down from the upper floor and ravage the already broken bird girl. Rhone had turned a blind eye to these things before; most slaves did. But he had learned a hard lesson from it, and he wasn't about to learn it twice.

12 stared at Rosa from the corridor, uncertainly. She didn't really want to enter at all, let alone with Rosa. Instead, she gently shut the door and stares down the corridor. This place unnerved her, the masters was almost too nice to be serious. She didn't trust the pair of them at all.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

12 twisted around to stare at Rhone uncertainly. She didn't know if he meant the evening, or the entire duration of their stay here in the Le Croix manor, but the answer was very, very clear. She nodded vigorously, trying to convey her thoughts into words. "Do not...uhm, not like new masssterrs," hissed 12 quietly. "This one will use their h-o...kindess..but not like them." managed 12. It's the best she could muster at the time.

12 opened up the door to the second room, presumably Rhone's room. She looked around; this place was just as grand as the other rooms, albeit a double bed rests in the room. One double bed. No others. This doesn't seem to bother 12 that much, though, as she padded uncertainly into the room, half-expecting some man cloaked in the shadows to leap out at her.

She solved the issue of the double-bed rather quickly, however, by removing the covers from the double bed and tossing them onto the floor, where she scrabbled around a bit, using her hands (her taloned feet would tear that blanket to shreds) to make a crumpled heap before curling up in it, right at one side of the bed. A nest? It certainly looked like a nest.

12 peered at Rhone expectantly. She waited for him to settle down before she put her head down and shut her eyes; after all, she wanted to be certain that Rhone was keeping watch, or at least shut the door, or something...she didn't like the idea of Lucien pouncing out of her office at her.

Slowly, the Sun rose over Estermere, giving a dim light as it faded through the clouds. A certain grayness illuminated the streets, as the town bustled to life; carpenters began their work on repairing the damage from the hyena's rampage as the guards' recruiters talked to the town crier.

James' eyes cracked open, and he peered down. Anya was still sleeping in his lap; all was well. He gave a yawn. The overcast weather was good for her. He hugged the girl a little more tightly. He'd find her dinner today.

Elric was wide awake, he did not sleep well, and worked for quite some time checking out the victims of the assault from the Gnolls. When he finally did get back, he only had a bit of sleep, and quickly arose from it. At the moment he was currently outside at the town streets watching as the carpenters were fixing the damages that were done. He opened his satchel as he counted a few coins in there, he'd need to make sure to pay the various carpenters well for their deeds. Well, going through the crate and chugging a few of the potions should help out in my repairs... He stretched out his arms behind hind his back, before stretching them back forward. He checked the condition of his right forearm, which was still healing from the damage that it suffered.

He glanced around the town, giving a few waves to the neighbors and fellow citizens. "Hello, lovely morning isn't it?"

Tirarian yawned and opened the shutters, greeted by the clean salty smell that always happens after heavy rain. Rubbing her eyes she grabbed some porridge while packing her goods to peddle. She should probably drop by Elric's to see how he is