The sun was slowly rising in the horizon of the east, with stars still just barely spotting the still-dark sky to the west. People were already beginning to get ready for their days. Some had to feed their children before going to work or even sending the children to work. Some had to put on their armors and raise their swords for battle. Some sat in their living room, sipping their tea peacefully. Some are still lying in their beds, sleeping away their troubles and some are just now going to sleep, waiting for the sun to set again.

The world is such a weird place. The ones working for riches are the ones going poor and the ones pouring teas are the ones going rich.

On this particular day, Sandee Mursa, Knight of Earroldir and the one in charge of the Earroldian army was ready for battle before the sun had even begun its journey across the sky. She, along with the entirety of her troops, just knew in their hearts that they would be the ones to end this war. But then again, so thought the ones before them. Such had every army thought. But not every army had Sandee Mursa as their leader.

“Get up, you lazy rats! Your country needs you! Klavos wills us to fight for her honor and peace of the world!” her voice rung out loudly amongst the many tents in which young men and women were sleeping off a hard days training. Usually, it would be her right-hand-man, a noble from an Elven family, that would shout these youngsters out of their cribs, but he was nowhere to be found in the camp on this morning. She had given him an assignment just the day before.

Myths and legends were stirring. Legends of creatures strong enough to end this war at will. He was given the mission of finding out more and, hopefully, finding these creatures and haivng them end this war.
Where he had gone to, though, she knew not.

-===============-

Elias Nihmgor, second in command of the Earroldian army, was not doing what he was supposed to at all. In fact, he was to rise with the sun to silently leave the side of the young man whom he had spent the night with. He was just barely dressed, much less in his armor. With his boots in one hand and his shirt in the other, he limped down the still-empty streets of the outer circle of Earroldir. His armor, weapon and even his horse were still with the trainees, but he knew better than to go get it now. His Lady would have his head on a stake for shinking his duties, even for just a single night.

Rather than serving his own head to an enraged woman, he decided to swing by a small tavern. He had no idea where to start or who to talk to, when it came to his mission. Who would actually know of these creatures? They were only myth, he was sure. If such creatures really did exsist, would they not have ended the war long ago?

He slipped onto one of the stools by the bar, setting his boots on the counter before pulling his shirt over his head, “A glass of red wine, if you please,” he asked politely to the puzzled-looking man behind the bar. Surely, they did not get a lot of half-naked, half-Elves with scars like his in these small taverns. There weren't even a lot of people there, despite it being just barely four in the morning. They had to work in the morning, was his guess.

The sun blazed through the stained glass windows, engulfing the Great library in kaleidoscopic light which danced around the writing desks and splashed beautiful, burning images of Klavos in all her glory on to the backs of the towering mahogany bookcases. As the sun rose and the shadowy refuge of the circular book cases shrank, it began to expose a little caped hobgoblin, asleep at a writing desk.

"Henk..." Bumble muttered, frustrated at the forecast but still half asleep. She clumsily rummaged through her bag for her Rockafink and Brothers' Ear Mounted, Deep Ocean, Light Absorbing Ocular Enhancements and swiftly mounted them to relieve the Sun related blindness. Hood up and she was as best protected from the morning incineration as she could be in this "wonderfully" well lit room. It was annoying the scholars wouldn't let he move a desk to the basement but they were right, there was nowhere to put it. Getting any one of the seemingly endless numbers of bookcases out would be next to impossible, Bumble wondered how they got down there in the first place. She yawned and stretched now it was safe to do so without burning her eyes out of their sockets and sleepily gathered up her writing equipment, dropping it lasily into her open satchel. Bag straps tightened to her waist and she was off, the long black cloak billowing behind her. It was to bright too be outside so She'd have to find somewhere else that was dingy and quiet to work till she could keep up the training she usually did before the sun rose. The Gilded Pilgrim, was one such place. A small bar that attracted some unfavourable, if wealthy, patrons who know only to give a piece of their mind with their fists, no less. Luckily such a place would be empty during the day especially at 4 am.

Bumble's mind wandered from Breakfast to Dinner, from "Dear Og'Og its bright out here" to "I must really vist the alchemist so I can follow up on that lead I got about treasure under the docks" and from translation to "my arse hurts a bit still from that poorly cushioned seat".

Pretty soon she was outside he favourite scruffy place in the outer circle, the softly swinging fools gold monk dangling by his chain noose. It was quiet inside so she popped in, closing the door gently behind her. The small windows at the front meant it was dim inside and it not being night time mean the oil lamps weren't lit either. Bumble lifted the hood off her head so it didn't snag on her horns and removed the glasses. Eyesight no long deliberately impared, it was easy to see the barkeep and the sole tall patron. He was much to well dressed for a place like this, he'd have still stuck out like a sore thumb had their been others. Considering their wasn't others he didn't stick out so much, but thats besides the point. It barely mattered, he was being quiet and as long as Bumble gave him no reason to be otherwise she imagined he'd stay that way.

Bumble smiled to the barkeep and enquired, "Do you do breakfast?"

Blue closed her eyes as the morning sun touched the tree tops and her face, absorbing the warmth. In the distance she heard soldiers and their lady-general preparing for the day. She felt an uncustomary pang of pity for them. So much work before sunrise, poor things. A vague memory struck her of a young man celebrating his acceptance in to the army a few months before. They volunteered for that? Their own fault then, she decided. Pity dealt with, she opened her eyes to gaze upon the now golden tree tops and popped a freshly picked blackberry into her mouth. Delicious.

She heard her clan waking and rustling below, she was in no mood for their company. Questions, side long looks. She’d already dropped up her share of the foraging before the sun had risen. She was low on human gossip though – surely a bard was due soon? Blue made her way, quietly, from her perch, grabbed her bow and quiver and headed swiftly towards town.

Her travel was quick and sure, the best place to visit so early was the Pilgrim, though she knew not if anyone was hanging about. The sign squeaked slightly as it moved with the breeze. It didn’t even look open, really. She checked her disguise, making sure she didn’t glow, wincing slightly as her stupid wings refused to be completely hidden. Good thing humans are usually too dense to notice. Blue squared her shoulders and headed through the door, barely able to conceal her disappointment as she saw no bawdy tavern girl willing to regale stupid human stories and town news. A handsome, rich looking fellow was sitting at the bar, Blue felt some hang over and lusty aftertastes from him and secretly smiled. A small horned creature was waiting somewhat expectantly nearby whilst the barkeep mumbled something at it.

She was here now though, she supposed, she may as well enjoy some wine and see if someone worth talking to showed up. She took a seat and waved to the tired looking attendant, pulling another chair out to put her feet on. Blue sighed, why didn’t the universe simply put what she needed, where she needed it? Sometimes life was just so tiresome.

Thrure watched the man-things from the shadows. He had been hiding for hours in various shadowed locations around the courtyards and looked out amongst the field of tents. Like all skaven he felt more at home in the oppressive darkness where it was easier to hide and lose your enemies. But these man-things were so inept. From the look of their possessions he knew them to be soldiers, had not even noticed him even as a half dozen walked sleepily past his location. He was both amazed and gladdened by the severly lacking senses of this species. Any skaven would have been immediatly suspicious of any shadows. And he was sure any skaven assassin would have spotted him in a a heartbeat.

His tail lashed silently under he long black cloak and he teeth barred as he suppressed a growl from escaping his throat. How easy would it be for him to simply kill one of these man-things? They were too stupid to seemingly notice his presence or anything for that matter. They were a soft race, they smelt of odd odours that made his fur stand on end and As his Tail was bare, These man-things were ugly. He would probably do this world a favour by removing a few of these eyeblights.

Eventually he slunk back deeper into the shadows, letting his fur and his cloak disguise his body and shape against the sorrounding darkness. He had very little in the way of equipment, he relied heavily on the colour of his fur and his cloak for most of his needs. His chest and legs were covered with little more than a thick black fabric to make as little noise as possible when moving. The long dagger which for his size was more akin to a short sword was crude, even by skaven standards. It was a miracle he was given one that was rust free and only a little over a half dozen notches along its length. Even his blade was blacked with fire and the hilt painted to as to not let anything metal catch the sun or moonlight and give away his position. Unless you were an elite assassin or soldier skaven weapons and armour were poor to say the least. Most junior runners made the efforts to steal weapons from the surface world. A perk of the job one might call it.

On his way out of the camp he did sever several tent strings, pull up pegs, notch tripods that were holding up cauldrons of boiling porridge. When he passed the supply tent he could not resist cutting his way in ever so gently and stealing a piece of raw meat. When he was safely beyond the camp he set ot devouring the cut of meat in a flurry of growls, flashing teeth and razor sharp claws. Even the fat and gristle was forced down into his belly. Most humans may look down upon eating raw and untrimmed meat. But to him it was one of the few redeaming qualities of man-things that they so often carried fresh meat. And it was so easy to steal.

He finally heard the commotion of tents falling over, cauldrons spilling on the ground and an angry cook accusing everyone of cutting into his tent and stealing the food. He decided to put some more distance between himself and the scene of his numerous petty crimes. Soon he found himself outside a fairly lonesome building. Despite the fact that it had no immediate neighbours it did seem to have a fair amount of people inside. Instead of entering it as many things seemed to be. He crept along its walls, looking inside windows when possible at its occupants. Even pushing the windows open slowly and carefully so he could hear the noise and voices inside. Finally he made his way around the back and looked for ways to enter this place. He saw food he could steal and conversations he could eavesdrop. Casual rumours and information filled these types of places. Such things could spark interest in the under-empire.

Light. Again. Damnit.

Under a towering oak in the middle of the forest, there stirred some warped, twisted form of a creature, with grotesque, misshapen shoulders exposed by rips in a black garb, poorly proportioned legs shielded by dull grey trousers, just baggy enough to mask his disgusting figure. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, exposing the bloody mess that was his chest. Luckily, the blow was shallow. Hey, he made it half the night without it being treated, that had to be a good thing, right? The whole 'passing out in the forest' thing didn't seem like the best way to get it healing, but miraculously, the wound looked fairly clean. With any luck, it shouldn't go bad.

Razz had been out hooman huntin' on the highway. It was going pretty well, too, he managed to strip a couple of suits of armour and some swords off of some pompous, tee-totaled scouts from a nearby army or something and stuff them in his cache, but then the idiots ran crying back to their camp all in the nude and whined about it. He must've run halfway round the forest trying to get away from the bastards. Gave them the slip, obviously, but remembering anything other than that is... well, impossible. Snatching a tissue out of his pocket, he tried to mop up and clear off some of the blood covering his shirt and chest. This was going to leave a scar. A nice one, too, from the shoulder, down right across his nipple. If he lived through it, that is.

Okay, time to take stock. Take inventory. was I hunting EAST of the village, or WEST? No way of knowing now. I guess I'll see what's at the end of this forest then, if nothing else. Grunting, grimacing and doing pretty much everything else one can do when you're in pain and want to know everyone else know just how annoyed you are, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, his shoulders, and finally his feet. Staggering towards a tree, he tried to balance himself while he got used to his sudden new position. After a good few seconds, he began to walk. It was only then when he noticed that his feet were torn to shreds, and his boots were in tatters. Under the excruciating pain, he abruptly sunk to his knees, resuming his grunting and clawing his way towards the area that seemed to have the least trees.

This carried of for what felt like hours, the slow, agonizing slog through the trees. He was so exhausted that he didn't notice when the trees finally stopped and he stood atop an outcrop. He didn't even stop when he reached the drop, and after that it was a little too late.

Chaos struck. Every one of his limbs was being thumped, hard and repeatedly by the rocky ground as his momentum propelled him downwards, ever downwards into god knows where. The momentum stretched his body out flat, and every attempt he made to cover his face just resulted in rocks clashing against his hands. Then, with a loud and tortuous 'thud', is stopped. He exhaled slowly, rolling over once more to find.... another bloody army.

This is REALLY not my day. At least this doesn't look to be the army that attacked me before..... Craning his neck to survey the situation, he realized that he was in the back end of the forces, with all the squires, or whatever those human bastards called them. This army, here, probably meant he was near Earroldir. Good, I could use a stiff drink. And some of my spare supplies. Dropping his head to the ground, he summed up all his strength and shouted at the top of what remained of his voice: "TEN GOLD PIECES FOR WHOEVER BRINGS ME TO THE PILGRIM IN THE OUTER CIRCLE! I'm a friend of the barkeep's, he'll do right by you." And with that, all there was to do was sigh, and wait.

Unbeknownst to Razz, this entire sequence of events was being watched by a rather curious and bored mind. However, even if he had stopped to look around for anyone watching him he most likely wouldn't have spotted his little stalker. This was because this watcher was a 2 foot-tall plan shaped like a tiny, and incredibly thin person, and its name was Ashborn. It was watching the man because it was bored, and Razz had woken him up. During his flight away from angry humans, he had thundered through the brush where Ashborn had been taking a quick nap. This interruption jolted Ashborn awake rather abruptly, and sent Flutterfeather, a miniscule hummingbird, into a hyperactive fit. After taking the bird into its hands and calming her down, Ashborn decided to follow the man who had woken it up. It wasn't hard, since he wasn't exactly trying to hide his trail.

Eventually it came upon the man, unconscious beneath an oak tree. It carefully crept up on the man, wary both of the man waking up and of anything that may have followed him. Ashborn was, to be honest, rather curious about the man's strange looks. It's never come across a half-elf half-dwarf before, and had no idea what exactly the man was. But at that moment Ashborn had a more pressing concern; it'd woken up hungry. While it was curious about the man, feeding was more important. But thankfully Razz had been injured, which to Ashborn was just an area more easily penetrated by its tongue. Being careful not to touch the man, Ashborn slowly slid it's thin, white tongue into Razz's chest wound. While the man's blood wasn't the best Ashborn had ever tasted, it'd spent several days surviving on animals and was just thankful that a person had wandered into its path. It spent several long moment savouring the flavour as its tongue absorbed blood and fluids from the man's wound, before pulling its tongue back into its mouth. It would have liked to continue feeding, but it was full, literally. its previous white tongue was died red from the blood it'd absorbed and Ashborn wasn't able to pull any more out of the man's body.

Then Ashborn had decided to climb the tree that towered above the both of them and continue its nap, content and full. Flutterfeather likewise nestled up to the plant-man, careful to avoid the thorns. And while Razz was unconscious beneath the tree with his chest a bloody mess, Ashborn slept silently and soundly above. But he was once more woken up by Razz, this time it was the sounds of the man waking up that disturbed it. Ashborn didn't particularly mind though, having gotten a good night's sleep. He watched the man stagger to his feet, silently impressed. The wound wasn't deep, but it was long and had been untreated all night; not an issue for an Ogwundi, but most races weren't as robust as Ashborn.

As the man began to slowly make his way away, Ashborn came to a decision. It could continue its directionless wandering or it could follow this man, covertly of course, and possibly make it to a town and more people. Ashborn decided on the latter, due to the fact that it found cities to be pretty places most of the time and because they were full of delicious people. So it followed Razz stealthily, moving slowly and blending in with the bush, with Flutterfeather flitting around. It followed him all the way until the outcropping, and then just stared in shock as the man walked right off the edge of the drop. That was probably one of the stupidest things Ashborn had ever seen anyone do, and it simply stared for a few moments longer before making its way forward to the edge. To its surprise, the man was alive. And he was surrounded by an army.

Then the man spoke up for the first time, and Ashborn was a bit confused at first. It was perfectly fluent in the language, but the terms "pilgrim" and "outer circle" didn't seem to make much sense in the current context. However, its confusion was quickly dispelled when Razz mentioned the barkeep. Apparently the Pilgrim was a bar. And a bar meant a settlement and people. Ashborn grinned on the inside, since its face wasn't capable of the emotion itself, as it knew it'd made the right decision and was going to be lead to a town or city. Granted it could be difficult to sneak through the army if the man ended up going through the camp, but Ashborn was certain he could do it if he really but his mind to it. Flutterfeather landed on Ashborn's head, and it reached up to pet the bird, saying, "Perfect."

Dorrin checked to make sure the spikes on his maces with sharp and ready for battle. He needed to be ready anything and when you're part of an army full of humans then it was good to keep a watchful eye out. Several of his fellow warriors did not exactly trust him because of his race, hobgoblins were known for having a history of violence against the race of men. It didn't matter to him, he was here for the reward of becoming a hero, gold and fame. If he got both then he wouldn't need to steal anymore, but for now he still committed thefts out of necessity, and his Escape Artistry magic has made his heists all the more easier. The army he was apart of was the one loyal to Earroldir and was under had a second command by name of Elias Nihmgor. He was a promiscuous halfbreed, who seemed to care more about the pleasures of life rather than more nobler ways of battle. The fact that he was part elf made Dorrin have a disliking of the man, and the stories he had heard about the lustful heir to the Nihmgor Duchy, made him not think to highly of the half-elf.

While he busied himself with keeping his weapons sharp and properly shaped, Dorrin thought of his family who had left a long time ago to go find his fortune, and he wondered what had become his parents and siblings. He hoped that they were alright and doing fine without him. He had given them some gold that he had acquired from his last act of thievery, and now he was in the army in hopes of making an honest name for himself. After he was finished, he decided to go for a walk and while he did, he heard a human woman singing to a group of solders. She sounded very beautiful, and Dorrin walked over to hear her singing more closely. She was of slightly bigger size than the average human woman, and she had bright red hair. Dorrin listened with interest and he was glad that he did.

"Oh it's meetings a pleasure and it's parting a grieve
And an unconstant lover is worse not a thief
For the thief he will rob you and just steal what you have
But an unconstant lover will follow you to your grave
For the thief he will rob you and just steal what you have
But an unconstant lover will follow you to your grave

Oh they'll buy you fine trinkets, fine garments and flowers
And they'll call in at tea-time to pay their devours
They'll swear that they love you by the light of the moon
And propose marriage? No, sherry cobblers at Taylor's Saloon.

Ah but when you are married look out for your hub
'Cause evenings you spend at the old fellows' club
At the officer's store he was kept, he'll pretend
And so he was too, drinking rum with a friend
At the officer's store he was kept, he'll pretend
And so he was too, drinking rum with a friend

But fortunes are false and a fickle young day
And it's worse than bad luck for to die an old maid
And the best of all blessings we can meet in this life
Is a kind, loving husband and a good-tempered wife
And the best of all blessings we can meet in this life
Is a kind, loving husband and a good-tempered wife"

When she was finished with the song, Dorrin applauded very loudly and gave her a cheer. The women of his race had great singers, and he usually preferred them over human women, but this woman was very good. He listened a few more songs that she sang and then he decided to head to the tavern known as the Pilgrim. He hoped that the bar would have singers that were at least half as decent as the woman, and he also hoped that their drinks and food were as good as people said they were.

It was not long before his loneliness was was remedied. Just moments after the barkeep had set his glass of wine before him, although the glass was much larger and much more filled than Elias had believed, before a young hobgoblin entered. It was no easy task to tell an old hobgoblin from a young one; they all looked, well, not as pretty as most other species. Elias had talents, though.

“Do you do breakfast?” the adorable, little thing asked as she got to the bar. Certainly, she was speaking to the barkeep, but who was Elias to turn this opportunity of a bad joke down? Also, she had quite a set of hips on her. Elves are all so shapeless, humans are diverse, but a hobgoblin with curves, now this he had to do.

“Well,” he began, his voice already smooth as silk as he turned so he was facing the woman, “I usually don't, but for you, I could make an exception, my Lady.”
Smooth as a dwarf's chin, he was.

But, oh, the woes of being such a charming young man as he, for as he said those words to the adorable little hobgobling, who should he notice but another young woman. This one with white hair, even! He had once heard the tales of the white-haired dragonlings, but never had he come upon one! Of course, there were many other creatures who came with hair in white, but this thought never even crossed his mind.

And yet, he had already engaged the hobgoblin in conversation. He could always just pass it off as a joke, buy her a meal and go to the dragonling instead, but would that not go against his ways? No, he would not. He simply refused to let a perfectly fine and completely adorable hobgoblin go, simply because of a white-haired dragonling.

All of this passed trough his mind in a fraction of a second and he appeared to have simply glanced upon the newcomer before smirking like a predator at the hobgoblin woman again.

-===========-

The soldiers of Earroldir were just about ready for their day, bustling about in a hurry so that they would be ready by the time their general called out to them again. It was never a good idea to make her say something twice. Her dog, the red-haired elf that usually shouted commands for her, was much easier to deal with. How many soldiers had gotten out of shrinking their duties by showing him a bit of skin? Too many, as both the males and females had done so.

The hurry of those in the farmost south-eastern tents were disturbed as something, or rather someone, tumbled down the outcrop at the skirts of the settlement. A few of the soldiers stopped what they were doing to stare, wide-eyed, at the person that has tumbled to the ground. He just laid there for a few moments before finally shouting out:

"TEN GOLD PIECES FOR WHOEVER BRINGS ME TO THE PILGRIM IN THE OUTER CIRCLE!” followed by a slightly quieter, “I'm a friend of the barkeep's, he'll do right by you."

Now, there were two people in the camp that was allowed to yell. One of them was gone at the moment, probably entertaining some dominatrix, and the other was Lady Sandee. Every soldier near the shouting man fled as if he had shouted that he had an incurable, deadly disease and was highly contagious, but really they were fleeing from the rage of their Lady General.

True to the belief of her troops, Sandee Mursa was at the neck of the “intruder” within seconds; literally. With one of her heavily armored feet placed tightly, but not chokingly, at the poor man's throat, she stared down upon the half-elf, half-dwarf with a raised brow that made her seem half-way manic.

“And who might you be?” she asked sharply, eyes roaming along the entirety of his body, taking in the damage. She could try and heal him, but she doubted her blessing was quite enough to leave him without scar.

"Well, I usually don't, but for you, I could make an exception, my Lady."

Bumble knew exactly what was going on. Usually she'd have to wait till the evening for such a thinly diguised chat up lines. The wine, the smooth voice, the classy but rugged look. She knew exactly how this one ended too, he'd be a noble man joining the war of his own sense duty to his beloved country. He'll miss the warmth of his cosy bed sat in the heart of his huge estate and hoped his new dearest "Lady" would come make his city bed more comfortable. And they could share his fortune together, desert the war effort and live snuggled together in the lap of luxuary, with horses and butlers and whatever that ball and mallet game is and everything a girl could dream of! It doesn't take a genius to work out what happens next. Bumble evaluated the situation. She was perfectly content to shoot him down but he did have one thing going for him. One thing that was making it ever so hard to decide. Wrapped up in his opening move was the possiblity of a free breakfast. At the end of the day, money saved was money that could be spent on getting books shipped to her from Muuraan Og'Og rhoch rhec, the northern Hobgoblin super-fortress, for work and working capital for adventures, nights out and trinkets should one take her eye.

Bumble was momentarily distracted by the arrival of another tall, elegant and unfortunately sentient creature. A sense of impending "paying for her own breakfast" washed over Bumble which was slightly upsetting after having spent several moments enjoying the thought of not purchasing food. The Sickly Blonde sighed, oh how tragic her life must be with her and soft features and magical glimmer a cruel fate has certainly befallen her. A distraction for the horny half-elf would mean she could continue reading "Aguukerthaan", a tale abouth the emotional journey of a Ironhide Monk as he progresses through the ranks in the Monestary, a long with historically accurate recordings of Ironhide Monk traditions, values and teachings. It was a good read but only if you were a Hobgoblin. Bumble felt less and less upset about having to pay for breakfast the moe she thought about continuing reading the book, but it was definitely still worth getting the breakfast, there was still more to loose by being impolite.

"Oh! Well, if that glass of wine isn't enough company for you, there is plenty of room over here, why don't you sit with your Lady and tell me how my prince came to be in a place like this? Bumble's soft but common as muck voice drifted on the warm draft that squeezed through the crack in the ajar window. Thinking about what she'd just said she thought she might have over done it a bit, enough that it was pretty clear Bumble saw through his facade atleast, but still consealing the fact she definitely wasn't going to be his midday fuck.

Thrure managed to find a rough door with a large rusted metal lock that seemed to lead to the underside of this building. If being a skaven taught someone anything. It's that the deeper you go the more secrets you will find. He pulled some thieving tools off of his belt, which amounted to no more than a few crude slivers of iron and steel that he used as lockpicks.

He broke through the rusted lock within a few minutes and flinched as the old wooden door creacked far louder than he would have liked upon opening. Never-the-less he slipped inside and descended into the dark cellar. He was dissapointed at the lack of anything interesting....at all. It just seemed to be food stuffs. Food stuffs and many barrels of something. He growled and stole a loaf of bread of the nearest shelf to eat later. He stuffed it in the folds of his vest and carefully crawled his way through the darkness and up the only flight of stairs in the room. At least the stairs didn't lead into the middle of the common room. That would have been unfortunate for him. And difficult to escape. Though to his everyone seemed to pre-occipied in their drinking and food to care about a shadow emerging from the cellar. Sometimes it really was to easy to spy on the man-things.

After a few more minutes of close encounters and near discoveries Thrure ended up running up the nearest wall and balanced on a rafter in the ceiling. Even he didn't know exactly what led him to be up here but it definatly was the last place anyone would think to check. He perched himself into the most shadowed area of the rafters he could find and pulled out the loaf of bread. There was no reason not to eat while he worked. He just hoped people would be to drunk to notice the crums.....and to be able to see into a shadow.

After exhausting his voice and exhausting himself, it was all Razz could do to try and ignore the pain while he waited for someone to ask who the hell he was, what the hell he was doing, or any of those other things that humans loved to ask. Surprisingly, however, he didn't actually end up hearing anything for multiple seconds. He was greeted by movement that he could hear, but none that he felt. He was... being ignored? What kind of an army ignores ten gold? These humans are just too weird.

This was getting to be an issue. He was likely dead if he was ignored. He decided that against his burning desire to not move a single inch, it would definitely be a good idea to open his eyes, just so he had a chance to understand what the hell was going on with this place. Breathing deeply, he decided that yes, he was doing it. He was definitely going to open his eyes in just a second. Maybe a few seconds. Or maybe after he had a short nap....

As it ended up, however, he didn't need to concern himself with opening his eyes, as the cold steel of... something... pushed down on his neck, shocking his eyes into an open state. Well, finally! What he saw, however, wasn't entirely what he was expecting. Instead of one of the guys in their casual clothing and rags that he was expecting, this was a full-grown woman in full plate. Well, shit. This wasn't good. A squire, he could convince with money. A soldier, he could convince by looking helpless. This girl looked plain crazy. This was gonna be a problem.

“And who might you be?” He heard, or at least though he heard, his ears were still ringing. Okay Razzy, time for some tact. Polite and submissive. Polite and submissive. Summoning up all of the air he could manage to get into his lungs, he croaked out a quiet response. "Razzalorn Timmindale, your mightiness, at your service. Don't worry yourself, I don't intend to cause any harm, I simply happen to have found myself in a teensy spot of bother and was wondering if there were any powerful knights such as yourself who could be... kind enough to escort me to a little old bar in the outer circle where I can heal myself up. We ARE near Earroldir, yes?"

Blue noticed the handsome man’s lust increase as he looked over at the small horned creature. Interesting. A nice little distraction to pass the time whilst she waited for a gossipmonger to wander in and tell her the outer circles news. She was so desperate for a night of singing, drinking and unguarded, swelling, drunken emotion.

Flirting between the two other patrons had commenced and Blue felt the desire to create some entertainment for herself. She smiled cheekily as she moved the goblet of wine as the handsome man reached for it, containing a small giggle as he reached and missed. Oh, that was fun. The small creature, a girl? Blue looked at her a little more. Curvy in an attractive way, despite her size, and the horns which had given her the impression of a creature instead of a person lent strength to her face. She didn’t seem impressed with Blue at any rate. Blue shrugged and continued her fun with the goblet, laughing out loud as the man nearly slipped from his perch as he reached for it again. Oh damn, perhaps my game is up.You know better than to give it away like that, Faerie! she scolded herself, nearly letting her disguise slip in the process.

Getting a grip on herself, Blue adjusted her position in her chair and noticed crumbs fall from her clothes. Crumbs? But I haven’t eaten anything other than berries today..

"Oh! Well, if that glass of wine isn't enough company for you, there is plenty of room over here, why don't you sit with your Lady and tell me how my prince came to be in a place like this?”

Huh, who would have guessed? Not only was this hobgoblin curved like a forest nymph, but she was smart, too. Not that his agenda had been hidden by much more than a translucent veil, but she was a hobgoblin, for crying out loud! She was supposed to be brawny and dumb, not brainy and curvy.

Ah well, at least his chances never quite fell to ground, as long as a woman let him speak to her. He still had his status with the Kingdom, his status in the army and his regal good looks. And if all that should fail, he still had money. A woman who was hard to get, would always be that much more satisfying to bed.

He gave off a small, carefully measured laugh. Too much would make him seem desperate, as if she was just so funny that he had to ask her home with him. Too little would make him seem arrogant, as if he was certain he would bring her home nonetheless. It really was an artform; courting a woman. A man is much easier. Ask him to come with you and promise him that nothing will come near his backside and he is in it for the worst.

“I fear you are mistaken, my Lady. I am no Prince; I am merely a Duke,” he replied smoothly, brushing a crimson bang from his face, as he slid into the seat next to her, bringing his wine with him, “At least I will be, on my hundreth birthday. But that is not for another human lifetime. Right now, I am with the Earroldian army,” he added, smiling as warmly as he could with her nervousness tingling in the back of his mind, “Most men would cough out some lie of how they simply wish to help their country, but not me. I never lie, my Lady.”

He stopped there, waiting for her to react in some way. She was a hard nut to crack; he knew nothing of what was going on in her mid. He needed to get her talking about her life, rather than have her listen to his sad tales. He needed to know if she was his type of woman. Sex was all fine and good, but he perferred races like hobgoblins and dwarves for their dominant nature. Their violent nature. He felt a bit hot just thinking about it. Luckily, the red of his hair tended to drown out all redness on his face. And he resisted the urge to rub the morbid skin alteration on his chest.

Instead, he decided to reach for his wine, without looking away from the beautiful creature before him. He missed, though, which was quite unusual. His hand was always drawn to a goblet of wine like a moth to a flame; he could not possibly miss, even if he was not looking. He glanced in the direction of his wine, just to measure the distance. Had it moved? He did not have time to study it closely, though, and just reached for it again; missing once more. He glanced again. It had moved! By now, he was certain that his “date” had also noticed. If not, he might have given her brains too much credit. He reached for it one more time, this time staring intently at it out eh corner of his eye and – It moved! He almost fell from his seat, attempting to grab the goblet.

“Rhachon le!” he exclaimed, reverting back to the tongue he had spoken for the past fifty years with his family. Swears and curses were not very common in the Elfin tongue, though, and the Elfin tongue was no longer very common.
“Did you see that?” he added, turned back towards his “date”.

-===============-

"Razzalorn Timmindale, your mightiness, at your service. Don't worry yourself, I don't intend to cause any harm, I simply happen to have found myself in a teensy spot of bother and was wondering if there were any powerful knights such as yourself who could be... kind enough to escort me to a little old bar in the outer circle where I can heal myself up. We ARE near Earroldir, yes?"

Sandee raised an eyebrow at the man. He was attempting flatter when his neck was on the line, quite literally. He spoke like a Grapholan snake. Sadly, he was not on of her soldiers and she was not out on the battlefield, or she would have had his head on a stake.

“Normally, I would never lead a wounded man to his own demise, but you are not one of my men,” she stated with a look of clear disgust on her face at his state. With a simple jerk of her hand, two of the squires under her command stood by her side, making themselves look small as if not to attract her wrath, “Bring this man where he wishes. It is not my job to judge him; Klavon will do that for us,” she stated with sneer before taking her boot off of the man's neck and continuing on her way. The squires fidgeted beside the man, waiting for him to tell them what to do.

“I fear you are mistaken, my Lady. I am no Prince; I am merely a Duke,"

Yes! Breakfast was still on the table, well actually, it was still being prepared by the Barkeep but there was still a chance she could get it for free. The frail stick figure hadn't stolen enough of his attention despite her obvious requirement of the fore mentioned resource from him. She was going to try it on more later, they always do. Her type is just as bad as his. The fact he didn't step fleet footedly into the arms of the six foot flirt was interesting, to his merit, he'd stuck to his original plan of bedding Bumble which was both genuinely flattering and somewhat suspicious. He could have a thing for Hobgoblins, which would explain why he was so willing to throw himself at her or he knows he wouldn't have a chance with the Sparkling creature and by focusing on what he thought was achievable he could woo the naive little hobgoblin with his unwavering love for her. There are dreamers and there are realists. What he gained in conviction, he lost in cliché. Bumble almost had chat up bingo already, all she needed was the dream life speech and the invitation to live on the home estate and she'd have won.

The "rough, tough but lovable rogue" slid into the seat next to her, totally giving it all that, which gave him easily +3 to actually kind of creepy. “At least I will be, on my hundreth birthday. But that is not for another human lifetime. Right now, I am with the Earroldian army,”

Clever, clever. Covering the fact you're actually poorer than me before I found out for myself, oh but you will be rich when I'm dead? Oh good for you! Maybe Bumble didn't give this guy enough credit, he's trying to get the best of both worlds, the nobleman & the everyguy routine simultaneously. It looked like Bumble wasn't going to get her bingo so soon. Then the situation ticked over in her mind. Why would he give me reasons to be disinterested? We both know what's going on. The more she thought about it, the hard it was to discern whether he was being honest or not, which raised even more questions. Regardless of how real his spun yarn was he still wanted Bumble's body for less than savoury activities and Bumble still wanted a free breakfast. Just some soft home made bread, a cheese selection and some continental meats, oh with some Ghendal oil and garlic butter. Maybe some ground peppercorns and lush forest berries to go with the wild boar and finely sliced mutton.

Oh! He wants me to play hard to get! Pretending he wasn't Bumbles type would be easy, because he wasn't, but she had just invited him over under the pretence he was noble born and handsomely wealthy, which meant she couldn't be no longer interested in him personality-wise, that just might jeopardise breakfast. She'd have to make herself out the snob/golddigger, which would be hard given that she was clearly not rich nor high born herself. It was going to be tough, the situation demanded it, if it went wrong then maybe he'll stop acting so retarded and they could be friends or-

The smooth criminal was making as much sexual eye contact as he possibly could, his lust-filled eyes looking nowhere but Bumble's own. This was not odd, however the groping hand extended on the table, fingers stretching their full length to find the stem of his goblet was. His refusal to break eye contact to ensure the safe voyage of the drink to his lips was both admirable and hilarious. The stress of trying to maintain oxytocin production in Bumble while trying to track down the glass was too much for him, it was beginning to show and Bumble could barely hold it in. She pulled the best sexy face she could manage to hide many thoughts and attempt to feign disinterest due to the lack of financial gain Bumble could acquire by becoming his mistress but wiggling fingers on the table was much too funny, almost unbearably so.

Fighting the compulsion to laugh as hard as she could, Bumble jested, "Oh well, its not hard to imagine why a soldier might be here, I take it was a heavy ni-?"

The hilarity reached its ultimate conclusion, in a beautiful climax of conflicting forces, both mental and physical. He slipped. He cursed. He caught the goblet but at only at the sacrifice of his own integrity.

"Rhachon le! Did you see that?"

Bumble did see, she could all so the mischievous grin on the pretty girl who entered after herself, she was enjoying it almost as much as Bumble was. She was in stitches. It was hard to keep composure after that display of elven dexterity and agility. She had judged the minx to harshly, while she was still obviously seeking attention it was certainly not the attention the soldier was giving and was clearly up for some more morning appropriate conversation and activities. A free breakfast was almost certainly off the table now, it was still being prepared, it was going to be tough to look sexy after this.

"No?" She said innocently, knowing full well it was obvious she did.

"My thanks!" Razz managed to shout back to the armoured one as the two smaller humans dragged his corpse away. After he was finally dumped in the back of a handcart, he decided it would be best to instruct his new human friends on where the hell they were actually going. On the other hand, he was quite tired... maybe... they could find their own way there, surely? He'd definitely said which bar it was before.... had he? They'll be fine, as long as I get some... rest... they could get... they could....

No. He HAD to stay awake. At least as long as he needed to ensure he would be getting to safety. He had to push himself... c'mon, razz, c'mon, power through the pain! Awake, awake, stay with it! Focus! Your eyes ere open, pull your head up, there we go... and now... speak!

"MINIONS!" He shouted in a rasping groan, "The pilgrim's bar! In the outer... thingy! You know! Just... go!" He dropped his head back to the floor of the cart, sending throbbing pain arcing through him, and making him immediately more aware of all the wide array of wounds he seemed to have covering his body. He managed to stay conscious just long enough to feel the rumbling of the cart below him as the minions began pulling. these... guys are really... well... trained...

***-----___-----***-----___-----***-----___-----***

Razz awoke in pretty much exactly the same position he was in before. There was just a lot more noise around, and he was being poked in the leg by something or other... had they arrived? He forced his now blood-crusted eyes open, managing to summon the energy to wince at the rush of sunlight entering his eyes. "Good..." he began, but was unable to summon the energy to continue. In stead, the bravest of the smaller humans that were escorting him spoke up, in quite possibly one of the weediest voices he'd ever heard. "We've, er, ser, we have arrived. We think. Is.. is this where you wished to go, ser?" Ser? He didn't like that. Who did these humans think they were, fixing these false titles to him? The devious bastards. Still, they got him to the bar, it looked like. "Good... good job..." He murmured, propping himself up on his bruised elbows, to get a better look of the bar. It was definitely the place, he was sure of that. "Carry me inside and get... get me sat down by the bar. Then you can run back to your stupid 'ser' back at... back at the army." Credit to the buggers, they did just as he asked, no hesitation or nothing. Impressively trained, though not too smart, from the looks of it.

As they dragged him through the bar, he managed to survey the local patrons. It looked like there were some new faces alongside the old ones that he was familiar with. nice to know the old bugger's still dragging in new folk.... he casually thought, before laying eyes on the bar owner and remembering why he was here. "Darren! Get me my cache, I need some supplies. And is anyone in here a healer of any kind?" He yelled, in what would have been passed off as a drunken yell if it weren't so obvious that it was the abysmal state of his personal health stopping him from talking straight.

As he was dumped in a seat by the bar, and while he waited for old Darren to fetch his supplies, he surveyed the room. There was four faces he'd never seen before lurking in the pub that morning, it seemed. Some human lout in the corner, already deep in his cups, a cute little hobgoblin girl and some smart-ass 'tough rogue' type trying his luck with her, and some kind of forest dweller, from the looks of things, pretending to be human. Or was she a water sprite? Whoever she was, she was being very careless with her disguise. He'd have to tell her that when he felt up to anything more than slouching on a barstool and eyeing up the room.

Blue caught the horned girls eyes briefly in mirth, she was obviously enjoying the mischief at least as much as she herself was, if not more.

She considered opening up conversation with the girl, thereby interrupting her date, when a man was carried in by four apprentice soldiers (there was a human word for them. What was it? Squares? She was pretty sure it was squares). All thoughts of bread crumbs flew straight out of her head.

The squares placed the apparently injured man at the bar and he started shouting for a healer. She stood and took a small step forward, cocking her head and observing. She would be no help, not being blessed by the forest with any useful magic and only mischief. Could she help? Helping would be work though, she despised that. Blue just wanted to get second hand drunk and listen to gossip. She was sure the local 'easy' had gone through several of other women's husbands since the last time she'd had time to visit town. Again, though the universe was certainly being interesting, it was hardly accommodating her wishes. A brief sigh escaped her and she looked towards the crimson haired man - had he not mentioned he was from the army? Did human squares know nothing of healing?

"I cannot heal you," Blue said, her voice ringing out clear and strong, "but I can buy you a strong drink for the pain?"

The ragamuffin seemed almost to see through her as his eyes wandered in her direction. Damn disguise... She stood straight and stared right back, indicating the barkeeps assistant to ready the injured man a shot of the strong stuff. Blue's wings fluttered in agitation, and her eyes flashed slightly in annoyance.

Appraising the newcomer though, she found she appreciated his rough looks and ying yang eyes. "Once you're better, you'll have to share with us all how you came to be so grievously injured, sparing no detail." She allowed a half smile to form, Thank you, universe.

Following Razz and the squires wasn't a particularly difficult feat. Ashborn made its way down the rocky slope carefully enough, though it was a bit easier for it since it didn't have to worry about broken bones and cuts weren't particularly painful unless they were major. Following them through the camp was some trouble, but it was able to avoid detection for the most part. After all, most of the soldiers were already busy with whatever they were doing and should one happen to glance in Ashborn's direction it just froze. After all, the man was more likely to think it simply a flower they hadn't noticed before rather than a blood-sucking plant person, and Flutterfeather helped with that. And once Razz and the squires exited the camp, it was laughably easy. They didn't make any particular effort to be quiet and Ashborn skulked through the brush alongside the road, blending in with all the greenery.

Getting into the town, well that was somewhat more difficult. After all, Ashborn stuck out like a sore greenthumb in a town, and places for it to hide and blend in were fewer. It didn't want to risk the squires noticing it, so it waiting for them to enter before making a run for it. A guard saw it, but either didn't realize what Ashborn was or didn't care since he didn't give much chase. It was more of half-hearted jog after it, and Ashborn easily ducked into an alley and avoided the man. However, it'd lost sight of the squires and the strange, unconscious man. It was a pity, since it was actually interested in the man. In all of its life, Ashborn had yet to have seen a man that looked quite like him. But it didn't matter, its goal of finding a town was complete and that was the important part. Ashborn took the time to take in the sights, or as much of them as it could from hiding. It was early in the morning, but there were still a few people milling about and Ashborn would rather stay incognito for as long as possible.

Then, as it was exploring, it noticed something across the street. It was the squires exiting a building, obviously the inn the strange man had wanted to travel to. Ashborn quickly weighed its options before deciding that taking a look couldn't hurt. Besides, there wasn't really anyone on the street aside from the squires and it easily bypassed them. It probably wasn't a good idea to head straight through the door, so Ashborn looked for another route. It had found over the years that many buildings had rafters that were quite good places to perch on and observe. It quickly found a rusted door that seemed to lead into the cellar, though Ashborn did note the old lock lying in the ground beside it. Somebody had obviously been through here, though Ashborn wasn't sure if it was recently or not, or whether they were still here. Fortunately there didn't seem to be anyone around as it entered the cellar. It looked around for a moment before noting the steps and making its way up them. They didn't seem to come up in the middle of the room, so the thin creature was able to slip through rather easily with the tiny hummingbird following. It was also not particularly difficult to climb its way up the wall; claws and years in the forest had made Ashborn rather proficient at climbing.

Once there, Ashborn was going to look at what was going on beneath him, but he was distracted. In front of him, on another rafter, was a small ratman eating a loaf of bread. That threw staying hidden out of the window, but the ratman was hiding too so perhaps this wasn't all that bad. Ashborn was still metaphorically kicking itself over not being more careful, however; it should have noticed the ratman before it had climbed all the way up. But what's done was done, they'd seen each other, and so Ashborn simply brought one clawed hand up and waved while Flutterfeather finally decided to stop fluttering around and landed on Ashborn's head.

Elias was just about ready to give up. Not only did he just make an utter fool of himself both by what happened, by how he had reacted to it and how his “date” had, but as fate would it, a wounded man of muddy elven blood was carried to the bar by two squires of the Earroldian army and was even calling out for a healer.

Why was his fate so mean to him on this day? Was it karma? Should he have stayed in bed the the busty blonde whom which he had spent the night? Or was it the fact that he had spent the night with a woman that was not his wife at home? Was Klavon out to get him? Or was it that deity of the Grapholan snakes?

No matter what his bad luck was caused by, though he suspected he might at some point during the night have used Klavon's name in vein and had her curse cast upon him, he was certain that it would only get worse. The squires must have recognized him. He was their second in command, after all. They must have noticed him and even though they did fear his wrath a little bit, this fear was nothing compared to the fear they held for their Lady General. They would tell on him and the shining Lady Knight of Earroldir would bring down her punishment upon him. Sandee Mursa was not the woman he wanted to punish him. She was downright scary, even to a man who found pain arousing.

Debating for a moment whether it was worth taking the chance or not, he looked his little “date” over. He had blown it completely. She just found him amusing. She was never planning to sleep with him, anyways.

“Let me pay for your meal, despite not getting what I wished for, my Lady,” he offered, placing a piece of gold on the countertop, which they both knew would far more than pay for her meal, along with her meals for the rest of the week. “I am so terribly sorry,” he said, looking her up and down with true, sincere regret in his eyes, “But I am afraid that duty calls.”

He offered his little hobgoblin Lady a final bow before turning his attention towards the wounded newcomer.

“I am Elias Nihmgor, Knight of Earroldir,” he introduced. Usually, he would never use his name in a place like this, but he was required to introduce himself when he was doing anything in the line of duty. It was simple manners, really. “I fear my healing capabilities are far from what you need, but I can at least stop the bleeding, if you so wish? Or I could take you to the Tempel of Klavon and have the Temple Maidens look upon your injuries, if that is to be perferred?”

As soon as he had done so, if the wounded man would allow it, he would be off. He would sneak into the camp, get his horse and other equipment and he would be off and out of there before his Lady General had a chance to punish him.

Razz was amazed. Normally when he wanders in to the pilgrim shouting stuff, people assume he's drunk. Then again, he usually is when he's shouting stuff. But no, this time, he actually got replies, multiple ones! The sprite or pixie or whatever didn't know any healing magic, or wasn't letting on that she did at the very least, but even so, a free drink wasn't something that he was about to turn down in a hurry, especially in his current condition. A good stiff drink would really hit the spot. And not only that, the tough guy was also vying for his attention. Apparently he was some sort of a knight. I wonder if the big grumpy girl from the camp knows he's here. Good luck to him if she doesn't.

"A drink would be great, thanks. And any healing you can give would be much appreciated Mister Nihmgor, but I don't need any assistance from any temple maidens. Speaking of which, here comes the barkeep with my things." Razz was astonished that he was actually able to get the words out there. He was convinced that doing anything more that letting someone bandage him was almost out of his reach at this point, but somehow the promise of aid gave him a kind of second wind.

When the Darren delivered to him his bag of supplies, after smiling and nodding him off, he took a look inside. Christ, I need to update cache sometime soon. I'm running low on everything. Running along the bottom of the bag was a rusty iron war-hammer, dented and generally battered to hell, laying atop some boiled leather gear. On top of that lay a few cloth bandages, some rubbing alcohol, a few small silk ones for more dangerous injuries, a few bits of cotton, some lotion for burns and the like, and.... no coins. Where the hell had the coins gone?

Scrounging around in desperation, or as close to desperation as he could currently handle, he rifled through the bottom of the leather bag, looking for anything he could use as currency. All he came up with was a crumpled-up piece of parchment, with the words "I owe Razalern Timindal 2 gold coins, three silva, and nine iron. Sinceerly, Darren. Cursing under his breath, he lifted his head up, but the cowardly bar-owner has scarpered. "It seems I am also quite broke," he murmured wearily, before remembering what the pixie has said and turning his head to face her. "I'll tell you what, stranger, I thank you for the drink, and I'd be happy to tell you my story. And what a story, let me tell you. In fact, I'd say this is such a wonderful and fascinating story that it'll cost you more than an act of charity towards a poor old man like miself. What's your name, anyway?" He said, eyeing up the mysterious girl. If she even was a girl. Maybe the name would provide some clue.

“MynameisBlue.” She spoke quickly, overcome with a rush of immediacy from the crimson haired solder. She took a breath and tried again, looking sideways at the crimson haired man before focusing solely on the ying-yang eyed new comer, “Blue. My name is Blue.”

The soldier had switched quickly emotionally. He was filled with purpose now. The sight of the human ‘squares’ had obviously given him cause to panic and refocus on his goals for that day. What was the story there? The universe had gone dramatically from giving her nothing to giving her far too much to focus on. “I am happy to shout you a meal, stranger, in exchange for your name and story. A healing of any kind is bound to leave a man hungry.”

She kept back, not wanting to get too close in case she was called upon for physical labor. Being so aware of the crimson haired soldiers emotions constantly and trying not to look so was leaving her a little tired. He was feeling so much now. Panic, focus, a hint of regret? Nothing that would make her feel good, though she couldn’t help but be aware of it. He’s human enough for me to be aware of him, but he’s certainly too handsome and rogueish for that to be all that he is.