"Am I?" Arthera's snarl drew up from the depths of her person as she watched him collapse into a heap, giving her words venomous added point, "You chose this life, instigator."

When she finished speaking the blade within her hands swayed ever so slightly, debating on just what action to partake in, but with their occultist returned and the wrathful Talionis seemingly slavering to finish the deed, she walked over the still body and toward the others that lined the street instead. She would let them contend with it and handle other business instead, namely ensuring none of these street urchins could lift a finger against them later... at least not without some great effort.

With the stain of her blood upon her hair she looked to the merchants after as she walked, brown open robe trailing her, ending her examination upon the one who had assisted them. For once, Arthera seemed to legitimately smile beneath her hood, as subtle as it was it remained approving all the same; perhaps that one might have more in life. The glance was not long lived despite this and she went to inspect the bodies, crouching down first beside the fallen man before seating her weapon to her belt; the aura of frost that had followed in her path up and vanished as her mind dominated the psychic matter, making it more integrated with her physical being.

Her flesh was cold and a chill ran through the entirety of her form, but the invigorating sanctuary of nature's touch was keeping her very much alive. The savage woman felt as though she could carry on owing to this, but she was far more wise and knowing than to believe that; they hurled nearly all they had into this and the number of them had taken a thrashing, just as much as they had bestowed one.

"So woman, explain to us what just happened and why these men were willing to kill us to just get to you." The primal said, calmly at that as she rifled through the pockets of the man, seeking out information and evidence, "As far as I am concerned, you paid your debt to us by taking a stand, so I have no further business with you."

She ceased her work, only to turn and look from over her shoulder at Araerys with her animal eyes.

"All I want are answers."

As if they weren't bad enough for killing these people when she could easily have talked them down and held a trial, they were looting the bodies in front of all the bystanders! The nerve! She hoped the cultist would see it as barbaric as she did, but doubted that was the case. He definitely didn't think like a rational, civilized person. So instead, she stood by the goliath, knealed, and apologized first to his corpse, before standing and yelling out to the villagers, "I apologize for the actions my...compatriots and I made you witness. This is not our normal behavior, and we have no intent to harm anyone else while we are in this town." She growled the last part to her group. "Please accept our apology. I personally have nothing to offer but song and...at least I think, hope. And since singing seems disrespectful to the dead at our feet, which I assume my friends are going to probably disrespect more my taking their worldy possessions, I...I want to tell you all that the fight is over. Again, accept my apology."

[Hider=Yes I actually am doing stuff]Daisy expends two power points to use Incite Courage on the 6 closest villagers to her (assuming she can see 6 of them)[hider]

"Do not waste your time with an apology, these dead men received exactly what they purchased." Arthera paused her task while speaking; for a moment her attention washed over a tiny crossbow before it found itself tossed without second thought to her side, sliding a bit across the ice only then to be joined by its bolts. Such weapons were playthings for the weak of body, mind, and spirit.

"They died as they lived - like vermin. A fierce, scurrying fight until the end, only to flee when the tides turned against them."

A metallic clang sent the shortsword across the frost and fast to the side of the crossbow. The weapon had, without apparent cause, flung itself from his hip while Arthera continued on her work until she noticed the man alive. She visibly hesitated and grimaced, less than pleased with the tiefling's ramblings about a life or death situation and that yet another one of these filthy things survived. Was it so difficult to kill one's enemies? These men had not made a problem of it, so why such reluctance? Arthera might have understood if these people had... well, any legitimate purpose in life, but besides that if they had voiced their cause and not been so simple minded as to threaten their band.

Not that she would have cared per say, rather it would have just removed this self-imposed cloud of doubt and guilt on some of those present, which was also ignoring she could care less what these people thought. The only one who had any right of say was the merchant who struck down the rat; the rest could see themselves to Limbo.

Yvah stood in a battle fluid stance as she awaited her time to strike. The Goliath raised his weapon for a strike, quivering under its weight and his mounting wounds, until his motion was cut short by a hunk of sharp steel cleaving down through his skull. Yvah did not see the man's body split down the center, only the haze of black splotched red that washed over her. The clattering, grunting and yelling sounds of battle stopped until there was only noise of idle panting and the drip, plop of flesh-addled blood falling off of Yvah's body. She didn't do much to react other than blink and smear her eyes free of gore. But after a moment to let the situation seep in, Yvah looked up to Lex and beamed an uncannily bright smile at him.

Soon there was chatter again as the party started to get their bearings together. More than chatter, at least, in that two in particular were bickering about what was done to their attackers. Yvah couldn't help but agree with her green friend, though she felt that Daisy's mourning should be cut short a moment. Walking up to the tiefling, Yvah said, "Daze, you know only big, mean one is dead, right?" Yvah glanced away from Daisy a moment just to realize that she herself was still covered head to toe in the aforementioned man's brain matter. Her hand slowly backed away, leaving a smudged red print behind, then moving back to scratch the back of her head absentmindedly. "Heh, sorry luv," she said with as much awkward sincerity as she could.

"Oh!" her feline portions perked up at the exclamation, "We can take them to the Homely Kobold, I used to work there! They don't ask a lot of questions and we might be able to find someone that can help with... clean up," she motions toward the half-remaining Goliath, "We can question these guys, have a little nap and be on our way!"

Ceria found herself unable to look away as the man's murderer comment hit bone deep. Right as he said it, she was then forced to watch as he disappeared amid a blast of energy. Their mage, Ulor if she remembered his name correctly, had finished off the bugger. Arthera's "You chose this life, instigator" rang in the elf's ears as she found herself studying their resident mage. He had disappeared out of thin air only to appear seemingly none the worse for wear. Then she saw it. The quirky fellow had had his one faithful eight-legged flying companion and now that companion was nowhere to be seen.

She wondered if Ulor had merely desummoned him, but one look at the pain in Ulor's eyes told her all she needed to know. It had been the same look that she had worn for her first deer kill. The same look as she had seen the life bleed out of those innocent, pleading brown eyes. The memory shuddered out from her in the form of a small gasp as Ceria Verkorcoran looked away from Ulor and down at the ground deep in thought. She moved over closer to Arthera in preparation for the scolding lecture she would no doubt receive. The two of them had a positively strange relationship in that they were both essentially equals, but when one did something the other disliked, that other typically lectured the first at length. Ceria fondly remembered their first squabble after the duo had just joined forces and Ceria wanted to stop in a town for supplies whilst the primalist had wished to keep going. Their voices had grown so loud that they'd drawn the town watchmen inadvertently and ended up being led into town anyway.

All of this reminiscence was done in the space of a heartbeat as the elf watched Daisy try to placate what was left of the panicked crowd. Some of the residents seemed to be hesitantly edging their way back towards their market stalls and wagons. Thankfully their drawn-out battle did not seem to have caused all that much collateral damage. Surprising really, given how much ice and deadly projectiles had flown about.

"You are alive."

It was hard to tell whether Lex was to any extent pleased with the warlock's return, or was simply stating the obvious. After giving the latter a drawn-out, yet vacant stare, he was quick to turn his attention elsewhere. The looting of dead and still-alive bodies concerned him little, as did the frightened slum-dwellers. None seemed injured in any way. The same could not be said for most of his group, as well as the unidentified woman, currently conversing with the nature-witch. He would see to them later. For now, he focused on the body laying at his feet. Leaning, he reached for the drifter's chest, and clutched the numerous layers of cloth covering it. With a thump and a soft clutter, the spellcaster's body was tossed closer to the group, should they decide to search it or find some other use with the creature. Walking towards the body, he knelt and began separating it from its' more prominent armaments, such as the staff, tossing them close aside one by one.

He soon rose again, and after briefly scanning his surroundings, he finally laid his weapon down, the hammer's head possibly cracking one of the paving stones as it slammed against it. Lightly leaning against the hilt's other end, both of his palms firmly resting atop the tubular pommel, he proclaimed, to no one person in particular. "Those in need of mending, come."

The masked figure had collapsed amid pathetic rasping, and with it all of the varyingly intact assailants now lay motionless. In a way, Ulor was disappointed. The enchanter who had appeared so terrifying to him was, after all, seemingly no more than a feeble ancient, at least in body. No tremendous force had intervened to shield him from the ghostly blast, and, along with an arrow which, he supposed, must have originated from the elf, that had been sufficient to strike him down. The fear had faded from his mind with a strange abruptness which led him to suspect it might have been another of the parched creature's unnatural spells. Or, perhaps, it was another effect of that mysterious banishment. Thinking of which, could it truly be he had never heard or read of anything of that sort before? He turned some inward eyes towards the fluid tree-trunk of memory, seeking among the secret lore of arcane spellcrafts he had accumulated throughout the years.

Without ceasing to devote a fraction of his attention to peer inward, Ulor replaced the crystal into his backpack with a single dexterous motion. Behind him, the tiefling was saying something to the nearby commoners - some sort of apology, apparently. Why she thought the group owed anything to these people was beyond him, but it was also none of his business. What interested him most was to discover what it was this being carried to lend him such powers, or what knowledge he could draw upon. But then, something else occurred to him, and - ah, it was fortuitous that the paladin should have hauled the body off to disarm it. Turning his head towards him, Ulor spoke briefly. Well, as briefly as it went with him.

"As the cosmic potencies will it, I am. We should take this one-" he prodded the fallen enemy with the end of his staff, "-question him, see if he carries anything uncommon. There may be something of value for us to learn."

Moving aside, he turned his gaze to the merchants' stalls which so happened to stand on that street. Not only would conjuring the octopus back into being require a fairly long incantation, but a ritual offering would have to be made in order to coax the spirit back into the material realm. And it so happened he did not have the necessary materials, nor an adequate fire into which to cast the sacrifice. Before he began to rifle through the creature's belongings, he would do well to see if he could find at least some of them around here.

Advancing towards the nearest stall, without ceasing to examine it he queried the nearby townsfolk, oblivious to whether or nor the struggle they had just seen had left them shaken or otherwise unfit for business: "Do any of you have priestly implements to sell? Incense and dry herbs to burn, braziers or censers? If you do-" he whispered a curious, unintelligible word, and a gust of chilling wind seemed to blow from behind him towards the nearest commoners, "-be careful not to conceal them. Not from me."

"Oh, thank the gods," Ary murmured to herself upon seeing the warlock reappear before them and deliver the final blow to their last standing opponent. The statement stemmed from an overwhelming relief, a mixture of her own guilt and his well-being, punctuated with a long sigh as she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. It was finally finished; and yet, for her, it wasn't finished, at all. She knew these few seconds would be the only respite she would get before the travelers would bound in on her for the trouble. Or so she thought.

In all honesty, this hadn't been the result she was hoping for. Well, yes, she was alive and mostly well. That was good. But the way in which they reached that result was probably not the most productive route. Araerys was merely hoping for some negotiations, an exchange of words to help dissuade the males from punishing her. Now, most of the group was injured, they had just caused a terrible scene in front of the common folk, and they had a death on their hands. Before she could answer the inevitable question fired at her by the witch, the woman she had initially approached addressed the crowd at the stalls. A big part of Ary was in agreement with the announcement; the public assembly probably now thought of them all on equal grounds with the villains they were fighting. Though she wouldn't have gone so far as to apologize to a corpse, the one aimed at the general population may have been in order. Any bloodshed at all might have been avoided if the woman who then opposed the apology might have waited and allowed the group to talk it out. She was the one that had initiated the fight in the first place when no one had even uttered a word about the thought.

Granted, the ruffians didn't exactly seem like the negotiating type. In any case, there was no use in griping about who started what anymore. It was over and done with. Furthermore, who was Ary to complain about the help, regardless of whether it was how she would have preferred it to come or not? She would just have to deal with whatever they threw her way, and hope that her joining them in combat instead of fleeing might be enough for them to forgive and maybe forget. So yes, the nature-witch could loot the men as much as she wanted. Normally, Araerys would have joined in to search for pieces of gold - but that didn't matter to her at the moment. Their adversaries were finally out of commission, and that was what mattered. At least the tavern would have four less swine to house in the evenings.

In any case, Ary chose the words of her response carefully, taking care not to point out that the men might have not tried to kill any of them had they simply just stepped aside and let them pass. The half-elf was also unsure of how accepting they would be of her trade, and didn't think it the right time to bring it up. So she settled on a very fundamental explanation of the truth. "These ruttish brutes thought it a good idea to bedevil the ladies down at the tavern last night. I wouldn't have it, not in my home town - I decided to give them a taste of their own medicine." A nasty stinging from the wound at her gut paused her and she inhaled sharply through her teeth before continuing. "They did not take too kindly to it, the hypocrites. They tracked me down and gave me chase."

Again, she paused, though this time it was to listen to the others speak, and watch as the paladin moved the unconscious drifter closer to the group. "Rest, yes. That sounds wonderful," she said in reply to the feline as she made her way towards the male who had offered to heal them. The kurjian was as bright as she must have been before the battle started, even sustaining the wounds that she had. Araerys admired that, and gave her a tired, yet warm smile. It remained on her face as a sign of peace while she glanced around at the merchants who were recovering from the shock of the battle. Once she had arrived before the paladin, she cleared her throat and straightened her posture as much as she could with the throbbing laceration in her lower torso.

"I humbly express my gratitude for all of your help. If that was to be the way they were to handle me once I had been caught, I would be a bloodied pulp on the ground." And as if it weren't dramatic enough, the bard made sure to make eye contact with each of the group - even the woman who had stepped out of the sidelines to rap her stick on the rat's head. "I would say it a thousand and one times, though I'm sure you would probably finish me off before I could get there out of sheer annoyance, so I will say it once and be done with it: thank you." Ary stopped herself before she outright pledged loyalty to the group, though she really could have done so from the attachment she was beginning to feel for them. But that wouldn't have been prudent; she barely knew them, and vice versa. She was a sentimental women, and it had gotten her into trouble many times before. Still, she made sure to convey through her gaze the sincere thankfulness she felt.

((OOC: DM Post))

The civilians watched in abject terror as the fight unfolded. Asides from one woman, none even bothered to lift a finger, instead cowering in their stalls. The one woman who had picked up arms against the ruffians had since dropped her makeshift weapon and backed away, staring down at the unconscious ratfolk before her. The gruff tones of the mystic did little to soothe the crowd, not that it was her intention, but the tiefling's apology and subsequent psionic power brought some comfort to those nearby. The woman retrieved her staff, placing it at her booth, although her fingers still trembled from the exhilaration of the fight.

If any of the townsfolk cared about the blatant looting they saw before them, they said nothing, instead returning to the business of the day, carefully watching their step on the icy sheet that covered the road. The merchants seemingly ignored the shortsword and crossbow as they skittered across the ice, although one woman did reach down to retrieve them, perhaps to sell for later. The commoners began to mull about their business as the bodies were searched, some leaving the street and a few turning onto it. Those who entered immediately saw the gruesome sight before them and left, not wishing to deal with this sort of situation.

Ulor's search for wares brought little in the way of results, but as his threat sounded, one of the merchants stepped forward. "I-I have some incense. No censers though... I fear the incense may have been ruined by the ice, along with most of my other wares..." He looked back at his stall forlornly. "I can sell you some. 25 gold." The cost was obviously overpriced, especially with the condition that the incense was in, but the man seemed less than willing to lower his price, even though it was worth less than half that amount.

As the bard finished her statement, a man dressed in regal-looking robes that seemed far out of place entered the street, flanked by a handful of guards. "What is the commotion here? I heard that someone had been murdered." His gaze fell on the kurjian whose visage was still covered in blood. "You obviously appear guilty. Guards, please detain the cat." The guards began to approach, walking slowly on the sheet of ice that separated them from the party.

"And just who are you to say this was a murder on her behalf?"

Arthera stood to her full height, unintimidated by the man and his accompaniment of guards, her hands tightening into fists. She was tired of hearing that word uttered by people who had no grasp of it. Regular mortals were more ignorant and ill informed than she remembered; perhaps being awoken to the realities of life and the world were as much a burden as they were a boon, at least in this damned quarter. The very same people she shed blood for, at least half this lot, were moping about as if they had committed some atrocity, rather than being thankful the rest of them had been willing to stand and wager their own lives, how distastefully typical and mundane. If anything it only fueled her coming rebuke.

"These men," The primalist pointed directly to the goliath's bloody heap, motioning specifically toward his javelins, then to the ground where his attempted kill of the bard was made and had so fortunately failed, "Attempted to kill this woman."

Her attention shifted and direction to the newcomer, but not before she continued whilst lowering her arm and letting her robe return to rest, "But not before we attempted to dissuade them with the very ice your men have introduced themselves to."

"So who is to say this is not an attempted murder and that the 'guilty' are not the victims?"

The woman had clearly had enough of this nonsense and was unhinged in perhaps the most logical and direct ways possible. There was no end to interruptions. How difficult was it to get from one side of town to the other unaccosted? This cesspool of civilization was perhaps more trouble than it was worth. Why again were they so adamantly fighting to preserve it? Granted the corruption of the outside world beyond it was inexcusable, but this? This is what they were trying to protect? One moment they are doing as asked, then the next - some great, grand catastrophe, only to be harassed by glorified servants in fancy armor.

Lex's palm was hovering just above the gash near the yet unnamed woman's abdomen. He squinted, staring at her intently, seemingly about to say something, but quickly turned around, his cloak swaying violently from the suddenness of his motion. Seems he was interrupted by the barking of an apparent official. Said officer of sorts was not alone, but accompanied by a number of guardsmen, as his kind often was, and was hastily, without much thought, about to detain the feline acrobat, simply due to the fact that she was covered in blood. Few things could stir such an immediate response from the paladin, but an abuse of authority, and a glaring failure to differentiate sin from innocence was one of them. After the feral caster had spoken her mind, he grabbed his bloodied hammer with both hands, the head still hanging downwards, and walked a few hasty paces forward into the ice. He lifted it slowly, and thrust it against the ground, shattering the ice around it.

"Looks guilty?" He snarled, before raising his voice. "It is I who killed the cutthroat, for if I had not, an innocent may have died. If you wish, arrest me, and risk not only the wrath of General Aengus, whom we serve, but of a Vehemus." For such a relatively long stream of words to exit Talionis' mouth, he must have been beyond angered, and his tone, not to mention his visage, made that apparent. He locked himself firmly in place, returning to the resting position he held not long before, and fixed his eyes on the approaching group.

"You dare invoke the name of the General?" the official responded, distaste dripping from his words. "You are not the first scum who tried that. We shall see!" The official withdrew a small stone from his pocket and began to mutter into it. "There's a group claiming your name, sir. A green tiefling, kurjian, a few humans... yes. They obviously killed someone. ...Yessir. Yes. Of course, right away."

The man glared at the group for a moment, the guards still picking their way across the ice. As they reached the far side, the official gave a sigh. "Hold, guards. These are under official orders from the General and are not to be hampered. Today, at least." He directed one of his guards to remain and motioned for the rest to return. "Please ensure this scene is adequately cleaned. We don't need any more rats in this filthy cesspool." The official's eyes fell to the slumbering ratfolk and he spat to the side, muttering something under his breath before turning to leave. A few moments later, his entourage finally trekked back across the treacherous ice and began to jog to catch up, loud clanging echoing as their armor beat against the crumbling cobblestones.

The remaining guard approached the group and lifted the helmet's visor revealing a canine kurjian female inside. "Don't mind the captain," she said. "He's always like that. If you could finish your business quickly and be on your way, that would be best for all of us." She looked down at the goliath and scrunched her face in disgust. "I think I know this man. If he's who I expect, he got what was coming to him. I must have reported him a few times, but nothing happens in this burrough without the captain overseeing it. I probably shouldn't say it, but thanks for making the streets just a little safer today."

Ceria took in all that happened, the newcomer woman's seemingly apologetic tale invoking the most vivid reaction from her. Sheathin her weathered how upon her back, she heard their paladin call out for wounded to come to him. That would have to wait just a bit despite the throbbing wound in her left arm.

Ceria bounded over to her seemingly elvish counterpart, stopping near the woman's right elbow. "Oh it's fine, dear. You tried to help those poor girls any way you could. I wouldn't have done it any differently. I'm Ceria. What did you say your name was?"

She briefly glanced back over her shoulder to listen to what the guards had to say post-battle before once again facing this brave, new mystery.

The paladin had been mere moments away from healing her when he was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of guards who - quite rudely - leapt to conclusions and moved to arrest the sunny feline of the group. Araerys, irked by their intrusion and now bubbling with defense and resentment at their sudden accusations, opened her mouth to reply with persuasion but was beat to the punch by the witch and the paladin beside her. For a moment, the half-elf glanced up at him in surprise, momentarily confused by his straight-forward admission of the murder. It was either really admirable or really stupid, depending on how the guards decided to react.

Apparently the gods were feeling quite generous today, and the official ceded his advance on them at the confirmation of the paladin's word. Ary had time to hear the canine kurjian's words to the group and respond with a proud grin before the archer appeared beside her. Happy to oblige her friendly demeanor, the woman held her bloodied hand out with a somewhat apologetic bow of her head and would shake Ceria's hand with genuine warmth if she accepted it. "Ceria. That's a beautiful name," Araerys beamed. This one was of her blood, or half of it at least, and it comforted her all the more. "Ah, I have not yet mentioned my name. I figured there were more exciting things to focus on, at the moment," she joked, then continued, deciding to be honest as to follow in the paladin's footsteps. She hoped she wouldn't regret it later. "My name is Araerys Talbot. It is lovely to finally make your acquaintance."

"You can introduce yourselves all later." The brown robed woman snapped, adjusting her form of dress and shaking off her hands of the blood spatter that had seemed to find itself from the many various bodies on to the others, "Or do it while you work, I care not which, but disarm these mongrels."

Arthera stopped at the ratfolk, peering down at it where it lay still, realizing it too was still very much alive, "... before any of them stand back up."

"Did any of you aside from the man with hammer even actually attempt to kill these scoundrels? Why are so many of them alive?"

She knelt down whilst speaking, one knee to the ice, ignoring the events that just transpired otherwise. She had neither the time nor energy to devote to paying the guardsmen or their captain any further mind; Talionis had done all the work there to be done and had dissuaded them. It also mattered none to her if her objections swayed him one way or another; the scene was clear as it was. But the captain's allegations in the process revealed how these men communicated, which was positive in some ways. They knew more than they did before, or at least the observant primal mind did.

What was not so positive was that she now had to relieve the beast of its collection of knives and various weaponized junk that it hauled around. The scourge was wrapped in a ratty cloak as it was, some ragged, ugly thing. Even for a woman whose robes were worn by the work and harshness they endured, at least her sleeves were still loose and far from torn, which held true for her hood which wasn't pocked with what were either bite marks or grazes by other equally sharp things. Regardless, she plucked the blades from the thing, letting them fall into a heap just outside it's reach and next to her; if it were to wake up, she was going to cut its throat with its own damned knives. The very least it deserved for having the luxury of surviving this exchange for whatever arbitrary reason the rest had invented for it.

"Never mind, I am sure whatever 'reason' you have is inane. Do not bore me with it." She said, not even willing to argue with these people at this point; they were mad and no amount of sanity could cure such delusions. By comparison she wondered if their resident seeker was more sane, the same who seemed to consort with dark and mysterious guides... and the hammer-bearer of course as it was. The elven company of Ceria always teetered between the two.

Certainly they had their own paths in life, but leaving former enemies alive was a remarkably easy way for them to find you another day. This was not accounting for the "law of the wild" as it were. The golden eyed Arthera hoped, would have prayed if she could, that such a day of their potential reappearance was one where she was not with them. This was an alliance of necessity, not want. All the added complications, of which she noted as she turned one of the rat's knives about in her palm, were difficult to ignore.

Just as quickly as she was accused of murder, Yvah's sentence was lifted. She looked upon the scene taking place with a dumbfounded face, blinking rather pointedly as the captain dismissed them entirely. Mocking him was something she was contemplating, but her still open wound kept her from any sort of acrobatics. But hey, at least the new girl stopped the internal bleeding. She opted to don her atypically bright smile and waved the guards away like good friends.

"Dear gods, I'm so glad they're gone," she said through gritted teeth. Turning to her group, she sighed with exhaustion. A few bouncing steps later and she extended a hand toward the woman she'd just learned was named Araerys. "Yvah, at your service," she said without waiting for her hand to be shaken. In fact, when Ary did reach to shake her hand, Yvah bent forward and gingerly poked the girl in the nose.

A crackle of the ice beneath her sounded as she twisted her form on her heel, turning completely around in one swift motion. She scanned over the bodies and said, "Kay, I'm not that burly. You mind helping me with these bodies, guys? And bring something from the Goliath to remember him by, we might be able to cash in a bounty or two at the tavern with these lot." She looked to the ratfolk, who was currently being picked clean by the psycho woman. Or psychic? Same difference. Yvah circled around and hoisted the rogue under the shoulders.

She pressed on ahead of her team, leading the way as it were. As she started leaving, she caught one more glimpse at the bloodied corpse left behind. Once more she looked down at her hands, almost symbolically drenched in his blood. An imperceptible glint of regret struck her eyes before-- Ka-houghk, she hacked up blood of her own which spattered over her still-drying hands.

"Gonna need a touch-up at the tavern, Lexxy!" she called out, just as chipper as ever, before trotting off to her destination with ratfolk in tow.

Ceria smiled at the newcomer. "Oh if you need to be saved from bandits, call us anytime! Your healing comes in pretty handy! Speaking of which....." the elf's features turned serious as she shaded her sensitive eyes from the midday sun's rays and scanned the surrounding area. Some of the merchants seemed bolder than others and had either not fled their stalls and pavilions to begin with or were just now returning to them.

Ceria carefully scrutinized all of the pavilions to the best of her ability, not just the ones that were attended, but the empty ones too. Damn it was sure bright out! "Gee I wonder if there are any health potions over there for sale or the taking," she muttered to herself only audible to Araerys. Did I really just say that last part? she mentally chided herself. I'm turning into a common criminal. I should get out of this city as fast as possible.

Her survey finished, the elf concluded silently that there were no magical sources of health in the vicinity. Now that the adrenaline rush of mortal peril had ended, Ceria was very keenly aware of the gnawing pain in her left arm. Turning once more to her new acquaintance, she asked tentatively, "I don't suppose you could take a look at my arm, Miss Talbot? I don't want you to have to play doctor or anythi...I mean," she shook her head vehemently and counted softly to reorder the words that came out entirely wrong. "One, two, three...I mean you don't have to if you don't want to," making eye contact once again at the end of her ramble.

@corneredbliss

"Ah, you." Leaning heavily on his staff to avoid slipping on the fragmented, but still fresh ice, Ulor advanced across the street towards the man who had spoken in reply to his inquiry. On better examination, there was indeed amid the wares laid out on the stall near him something which seemed close enough to what he had been seeking. Incense... Truly, it was odd enough that there should have been any for sale so far from any temple, but then, that was probably how it worked in those large, intolerable cities. Some might even have private shrines, something only nobles could afford back in the moorlands. But then, the people who willingly chose to live in such tremendously aggravating - not to mention dangerous, he silently added as an instinctive spasm of his left arm, which had swung upwards to preserve balance over an insidious spot, stirred the wound in his shoulder into making itself known with an abrupt surge of renewed pain - place had savage customs as was only too obvious.

Upon reaching the stall, Ulor distinctly saw that his suspicions about the merchant's very possibly inflated price for the holocaustic offering were not baseless at all. This sort of incense was not worth anything resembling that in any state; now that the indiscriminate freezing enchantment had left its mark upon it, its value had only plummeted further down. At the monastery, he recalled, novices were made to pay penance for procuring damp wares from the bog-treading traders at full price. Had he brought the superior anything like this in his youth, it would have been more than a week of forced vigils for prudence. But this was what he would probably have to rely upon to perform the ritual, and it was only well that the denizens of the beyond were not as concerned with such things as other deities. However the matter might have stood, an excessive price was not something he was eager to yield.

"Twenty-five?" he made little effort to conceal the irritated and disdainful tones in his voice, "I will have you know I was trained in the priestly ways, and this..." he gestured at the incense, "...would barely be fit for immolation on an anchoretic gravel altar. Now, I need it for something important, so..."

Here, he was momentarily distracted by the sounds of an altercation behind him. Apparently, what passed for some sort of authority had arrived on scene, and was berating - them, probably. Or maybe not. Either way, that did not interest him, and he reverted to the merchant.

"I will be generous. Twelve, nay, ten gold I will give you for this."

Whispering lost words of power, Ulor passed his right hand over the wound in an intricate, swirling series of gestures. From the cut there began to pour a sanguine red mist, which coalesced in mid-air into the pulsing, writhing shape of a fleshly tendril whose end opened in an almost implausibly wide, thickly-toothed mouth in which was nested a spherical, inhuman black eye with a hollowly staring white pupil.

"No more. Time is short, I am not patient, and other things are even less so. Should they fail to be appeased, they will be discerning enough to know who is to blame. You would be fortunate if they were to accept such prey at all."

Once more, a sound recalled his attention to the street. This time, it seemed to be the voice of the primal invoker remarking something about not having killed their attackers. Disregarding the greetings exchanged by the others, Ulor, slightly concerned about his prospective findings, cast a glance backwards, and was not reassured to see her kneeling near one of the figures with a dagger in her hand. It fortunately was not the parch-skinned creature, but nonetheless it would have been well to ward it from unwonted recklessness. Swiftly reaching out with a mental appendage through the air and into her own well of consciousness, he soundlessly whispered "The withered one must live. The secrets he holds are surely valuable."

As indeed they ought to have been. Never had he learned of an incantation that could work upon anyone what had happened to him. It had been, he now understood, the conjuring of an anomaly in the folds of time. The inexorable advance of the grey wall of ages had somehow been slowed about him, and him alone, for a blink in its unyielding surface. What power could bring about such wonders was curious indeed; and he surely would not waste the opportunity which now materialised before him.

But, first, there remained this other matter, perhaps even more relevant. Turning back to the merchant after what had been a mere instant, Ulor finished, the tentacle extruding from his wound swaying from side to side, but always keeping its gaze fixed on the man:

"Ten gold for your goods, or brave the hunger of that which lies in wait. Be swift. What shall it be?"



@The Harbinger of Ferocity

The witch interrupted the round of introductions to instruct - or more exactly, demand - that the rest of them join her in disarming the goons. Araerys, somewhat off-put by the woman's disdain for their 'lack of effort', made no obvious expressions as she took inventory of the group, her gaze jumping quickly from person to person until they landed upon the feline that had made her way over to make her acquaintance despite the deterring words. "Yvah," Ary repeated, reaching out her own hand for another introductory handshake, "another lovely-" Her statement was pleasantly disrupted by a poke on the nose, and while normally the half-elf would have been floored with indignation at her forwardness (even though she was fairly forward herself), it only resulted in a bemused smile that grew wide across her face. "Name. Heh. Very well then."

She was moving to follow the kurjian to help with the bodies when Ceria spoke again; she answered her sheepish request with a low chuckle. Ary was the last person to judge anyone on thievery, but she figured the merchants had been put through enough for the day. Waving a dismissive hand, she replied, "None of that 'Miss Talbot' business, love. We're all equals here, eh?" The girl's shyness was endearing, and Ary couldn't help but give her a quick little caress on the chin with her thumb. "Tell you what: looks like we're heading to the tavern for a bit of a break. I'll help patch you up in there. Sound alright?"

Araerys approached the body of the goliath, but being fairly slight and therefore probably unable to heave even the lightest of them without looking completely inadequate, she instead changed directions smoothly and made to continue following Yvah. She paused a few feet away from the rest of the group to call out to them, as they seemed to still be busy. "To the tavern then, yeah? Could use a pint. Or two."

Ceria was taken aback by the other woman's sudden assertiveness. "Whoa, what's with the royal we? We've known each other for all of ten minutes. If you want to tag along with us in the future, we'll have to see what the group says." She rearranged her expression from mild reproach back to a small smile. "But for what it's worth, Ah--rares, with the selflessness and courage you displayed today, you'd have my vote!" With that said, the elf turned away as she took a couple of steps in Arthera's direction to help clean up their mess.