Helo

Avalia

Time: 10 am, Soller
Location: Alleyways in Roshmi City to The Nest
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with 117 amas

---

“King Kasai? Oh likely sitting upon his throne with his head lost up his own ass.” Orias immediately responded with a smug chuckle as Nabarra asked what Roshmi’s king was doing. Then he paused for a second, overwhelmingly thankful to be wearing a mask as a look of complete disgust flashed over his face. That was exactly what his father would say. Did he really just say that? Had his own father’s voice just come out of his mouth. How absolutely horrific. Orias cleared his throat hoping that would rid him of the bad taste left in his mouth from the whole experience. I pray to all the gods I never live to see the day I become my father.

“King Kasai is not thought of highly in my kingdom. He has a reputation for favoring diplomacy to the point where many see him as a coward. My guess is that he would even let last night’s events slide to avoid dealing with a war. I could be wrong but I wouldn’t bet on a show of strength from that lot.” He paused as Nabarra seemed to be waiting for him to lead the way. The thought of giving his back to the dark elf still felt like a risk, but he knew he had to extend some trust towards Nabarra. He thought about her other question, about how to gain trust from others, and knew that if he didn’t appear to show the dark elf any trust, he could not expect others to do so.

He headed out of the alleyway, allowing the dark elf to follow behind him. The fact that he could never imagine his father doing such a thing certainly made the action more appealing. He had no idea how Nabarra could convince others to trust her, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to help with that. It was one thing for him to do a stupid thing, but to convince someone else to, when he could still very well be wrong about the dark elf was not a chance he wanted to take. He kept mostly quiet as he walked, not wanting others around to overhear anything.

“The only real way to earn anyone’s trust is to earn it. I guess we just have to hope The Nest has folks as foolish as -” A commotion was easily heard from outside The Nest. A small group was making a hasty exit, and a glimpse inside the tavern as the doors opened revealed quite the mess inside. Was there a food fight?

“Well this is definitely the best place to look.” He added, he really never should’ve doubted that this place would be full of people making questionable decisions.

Avalia

Time:The previous night
Location: A Tavern in Ironhold
Interactions: NPC
Equipment: 1 hunting knife, a flask of alcohol, a backpack, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, lightmaker, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs; skaula (8 grams) and zemak (1 ounce), rolling papers, and 150 amas.

---

A map of Avalia. Four figureheads bound and gagged. A hard and heavy rain. The map soon ran red with blood as the throats of the figureheads from each nation were slit with cold brutality. The dark and twisted faces of The Twin-Headed Dragon gave their speeches, they looked proud, they looked to be enjoying this.

The only word Bowyn heard from their lips was war.

So many of those around him reacted with horror, with anger at the dwarven prince meeting such an undignified end. Bowyn gave a small smile of relief.

“Finally.” He had waited for this, he had almost begun to think the rest of Avalia was going to keep on ignoring the dark elves, that he’d never get to live to see this war so many had whispered about. The world could not ignore this. He allowed himself a brief second of hope that the dark elves had finally brought their own end down upon themselves. That from every corner of Avalia, hearts would cry out for blood and vengeance just as loudly as his own did. He allowed all his joy to show upon his face, found so much solace in knowing he would no longer be alone in his rage. The emotion overwhelmed him and Bowyn didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. The crowd outside the tavern clearly believed he had chosen wrong as several heads snapped towards his direction.

“Are you fuck’n’ laughing?” The fist of an enraged dwarf hit him with all the strength of a hammer and he dropped his backpack of essentials to the floor with a thud. Bowyn found dwarves to be excellent company, and their tempers and willingness to fight was their finest quality. The sharp pain in his ribs was a welcomed addition to distract him from a pain that never left him. Deep, jagged scars on his back, where once there had been wings, provided a dulled burn that never left. Occasional aches from something that wasn’t even there to soothe. But new pain was a welcomed distraction. New pain left the old ones briefly forgotten.

The winter fairy provided no resistance as the dwarf landed several more blows. Each one seemed to hit a little harder than the last. He let himself live in nothing but the new pain for a moment before grabbing onto the dwarf's wrist and grasping it tightly.

“I don’t mock your prince’s death. I laugh at the death the dark elves have brought themselves. And that I finally get to see it.” Bowyn spoke, both haggard and amused, as his fingers left frostbitten spots where they dug into the dwarf’s skin.

“Idjit.” The dwarf spat at him and shoved Bowyn lose with little effort.

Bowyn only nodded in agreement as he picked himself up off the tavern floor and grabbed his pack. He licked the blood from his teeth before spitting it onto the floor. He held up his hands, accepting the defeat, and stumbled out of the tavern. Another great attribute of dwarves was their love of feasting and drinking; there were plenty of other taverns in Ironhold where he could spend the night that would not be filled with dwarves annoyed with him.

For the first time in a long while, Bowyn felt hope and joy that were not artificial but they were fleeting. He wanted those feelings to last a little longer, and even as he looked forward to war against the dark elves, he knew it would not be filled with moments like these. He ingested what remained of his klemara, the psychoactive substance would give him this euphoria for hours and he only wanted to relish in it.

His own private celebration continued as he headed to a tavern far enough away from this one. He healed himself just enough that nothing was seriously damaged or broken, but his skin would bruise and the pain remained. But new pain never felt like loss the way old pain did, it felt only like survival. Bowyn arrived at another tavern called Gukhumi just as the drugs started to kick in.

Time: 10 am
Location: Gukhumi’s Tavern-Ironhold
Interactions: Arn @Omni5876
Equipment: 1 hunting knife, a flask of alcohol, a backpack, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, lightmaker, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs; skaula (8 grams) and zemak (1 ounce), rolling papers, and 83 amas.

---

"Your eyes are pretty, all shiny like rubies.” Bowyn spoke in a slow, slurred, and barely interested voice.

“They’re green.” A dwarven woman replied with even less interest.

“Right, like green rubies. Hey, can I touch your beard?” Bowyn stared into the mess of textured hair, watching patterns that twisted and swirled together. All the different shades of brown and gold blended together and held his attention for far too long.

The female dwarf made a disapproving grunt as she looked him over. “Too smooth and skinny.” She shook her head at him as she left the bar.

Bowyn found himself briefly mesmerized by the movements of the wood grain on the bar. Patterns that grew and shrank and flowed together. He ran his hand against the rough wood for a time and then against his own smooth face. Fresh bruises stung as he touched them and he smiled a little at that. The comfortable sinking numbness of drugs that had yet to make their way out of his system left his skin buzzing.

Of all the cities and villages he’d visited he found he liked this one the best. The dwarves were pleasantly grumpy and refreshingly honest. That bearded lady was certainly right; he was too skinny and too smooth. He scratched at his face and wondered why he couldn’t grow a beard. And then he wondered what dwarf beards would feel like, probably like a sheep. After a lot of thought, he concluded that dwarves, unlike sheep, did not like being pet and that his face was smoother than the wooden bar.

He looked up from his intense study of the wood grain on the bar and suddenly remembered the mug of mead in front of him. He placed a hand around the cold, smooth glass and felt it frost around his hand. Bowyn liked ice, and it was often very smooth. He let out a quiet laugh to himself and felt much better as he drank a mouthful of the chilled mead. Still clutching the glass of mead he tumbled from his bar stool, nearly knocking it over, and walked around the bar.

Since arriving in Ironhold, the taverns were where he’d spent most of his time. Many hours of several days, and now many of the dwarven faces only looked like a vaguely familiar blend. He didn’t remember names, or whether he’d spoken with them, just the weird sensation that he’d seen most of them before. All his time in Ironhold was a jumbled blur. Except one face stood out, fully unfamiliar, a rather soft-looking beard, and full soldier gear resting near him. He headed towards the new face with a lopsided grin and sat, without invitation, across from the dwarf just catching his rhetorical question.

“I know what I’d say to Annya Biren. ‘Bout time the light elves got their shit together and took care of the problem they dumped on the rest of us.” Bowyn said with a nod before taking in several gulps of mead. He gazed into the empty glass, smile fading as he found it now contained only droplets of the mead. An empty feeling began creeping back into him as the effects of the drugs ebbed. He tried to ignore it, to cling to the artificial euphoria for just a while longer.

“You look dressed for war, are you going to join her? Can I come? Are you excited? I’m excited.” Bowyn said before slamming the empty mug onto the surface of the table. He then found himself briefly distracted by the dwarf’s nearby shield, forgetting all about his interest in the race’s beards. He wondered if he could touch the shield.

Avalia

Time: 10 am, Soller
Location: Alleyways in Roshmi City
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with about 120 amas

---

Orias shrugged as Nabarra dismissed his suggestion of pretending to be some reptilian creature as too difficult. He would’ve figured passing for something cold-blooded and slimy would be second nature to a dark elf but held back on voicing that thought. Instead, he nodded along as Nabarra explained what to get, even in relaying a simple shopping list the dark elf’s language was coarse. What was it his parents had always said of dark elves? Ah, a most uncivilized and vulgar race. Probably the softest thing they'd ever spoken of dark elves. Personally, he could appreciate that Nabarra was direct and simple in the request.

“Cloak, long-sleeved, and a mask.” He repeated the instructions back as he caught the coin pouch tossed at him and headed out of the alleyway. Never in his life did he expect he’d end up the errand boy for a dark elf and now here he was with a shopping list, what a strange day. On his way to the tailor, he passed one of the many Odds and Ends shops littered through all of Avalia, well known for both their bargains and ease of finding all sorts of random items. Although there were no decent cloaks to be found, they had an assortment of masks that he quickly browsed through. He grabbed a pair of cat-like masks and exchanged 3 amas from Nabarro’s pouch and 3 from his own before leaving Odds and Ends.

The air was soft and warm, the pink glow of the sun beat down upon him, and made the walk towards the tailor a pleasant one. He chose the small shop of a tailor who made their garments in a simple but sturdy fashion. None of the extravagance that many of the newer shops indulged in, but much better suited for blending in. He wasted no time perusing, preferring to immediately locate the shopkeeper and explain exactly what he was looking for. He relayed what Nabarra had told him, leaving out the more colorful parts of her language, to a rabbit-like demihuman whose fur was graying around the face. A simple hooded cloak, with long flared sleeves, and a bit of fabric that hid the lower part of one’s face was easily found that was well within their budget. He paid the amas, thanked the shopkeeper, and went on his way.

It occurred to Orias how simple his errands were for him, how agreeable he found most shopkeepers, and how mundane his dealings with them were. As a light elf, he was simply assumed to be a decent citizen, not a character of suspicion amongst the demihuman city, and how even without any acts of aggression Nabarra would have the opposite assumptions made of her. He was glad he had not voiced his less than kind thoughts on dark elves being cold-blooded and slimy, it was likely that she would encounter enough of that in choosing to ally herself against her own people. As he returned to the alleyway that led towards the greenhouse he decided that if he was going to be aligning himself with this dark elf, and it seemed apparent that he was, he was going to have to do a better job of it.

“As requested, one cloak and one mask.” He said handing her the bag with a cloak inside, the feline mask painted black and white, and her only slightly lighter pouch of amas. “And well under budget, I might add.” Orias said as he slipped on the other feline mask, white with a black and green design painted on it. “Now we can look equally ridiculous enjoying ale in the most notorious tavern in the city while wearing cat masks. I’ll have to try and contain myself and not hiss at anyone.” This was certainly turning out to be a very strange day indeed.

Purchases with Nabarra’s amas
1 cloak-15 amas
1 mask (#2)-3 amas

Purchases with Orias’s amas
1 mask (#3)-3amas

Avalia

Time: 10 am, Soller
Location: Alleyways in Roshmi City
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with about 120 amas

---

Orias only nodded as Nabarra spoke of an inability to start over, a truth he had not considered. This made sense, it was easier for him to change his name, hide his heritage, and simply pretend he was someone new. His past was not so inherently tied to his very race, while a dark elf would attract negative attention just about anywhere. But even what he did wasn’t really starting over, it erased nothing, he still carried all his failures, all he had done was remove himself from a position that would allow him to cause further harm. At the end of the day all that had changed was superficial; his appearance, his surroundings, his routine. He was the same coward, he hid and deceived, and struggled to find the light. And even the dark elf has more wisdom and clarity than I. It is no wonder why Solaris wills my magic to fester and rot away inside an unworthy vessel. His own thoughts sneaking in, drawing his attention away from much of what Nabarra said, but they seemed to be on the same page when it came to avoiding those who served the wishes of the crown.

Even sticking to the back alleyways that snaked and twisted through the city, Nabarra would easily draw attention from anyone they passed. Light and dark elves did not travel together, he would gain suspicion as well, and the last thing he wanted was people looking too closely. It would be much easier on his own, no one would pay any attention to a lone light elf minding his business. But that felt wrong, to leave someone in a city that would no doubt be hostile to them, and with little amas to spend on top of it. He managed a forced chuckle as she mentioned donning a beard and old clothes.

“Too bad you're much too tall to throw on a beard and pass for a dwarf. Cover the ears, wear a hood, and try and pass yourself as some reptilian demi?” He suggested. “I think between us we can cover a disguise and a few rounds. What are amas for if not spending? And improvising might lead to the loss of a hand or time in a cell. I can speak with the tailor if you wish” Orias unclipped his own pouch of amas and shook it, noting that it was getting light as well. He still found it strange to have to think about money, for most of his life it had always just been there. An easy solution to most problems, but accessing his bank accounts would make him trackable, and so they sat undisturbed.

Avalia

Time: 10 am, Soller
Location: Alleyway in Roshmi City
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with about 120 amas

---

Orias continued to wait, eyes closely studying Nabarra, still finding it unsettling when blood-red eyes found it’s own. He thought of his grandfather, Saleh, a brave warrior slain by dark elf hands long before Orias was even born. He thought of Annya’s former husband, another elf slain through treachery, and of General Talindra, the knife that slit her throat and brought such an honorable life to such a brutal and unglorified end. Mostly though, he thought of himself as he waited for Nabarra to gather her possessions. He listened to her words, what they meant before he spoke.

“I imagine it took a lot, to leave what you knew behind, and start over. Last night has reopened many wounds, and I am sorry I have been less than welcoming. If your intentions are as you say, you have my respect.” Orias spoke slowly, his words chosen carefully, and spoken honestly. An apology that felt unfamiliar and bitter to his tongue, only reinforcing that it was the likely right thing to say. He could not return the sentiment of ‘nice to meet you,’ with any sincerity, while not exactly a welcomed stranger, Nabarra was nothing if not interesting.

“The tailor’s not far from here, a cloak should be an easy find. The Nest is a good spot for a drink and to find anyone looking for a fight. If anyone knows of a resistance force in this city they’ll likely be there, the king here is a notorious coward, so I’d expect little luck through official channels.” He added pointing out the way. He paused for a moment, before adding with a twitch of a smile and a lighter tone, “Maybe we can pick up a cane for you as well, to ensure you can keep up.” Orias gave a half-hearted attempt at a joke to lighten the mood.

Avalia

Time: 10 am
Location: Port Vanarosa-The Seagull
Interactions: Helio @princess, Barboda @Alivefalling, Éliane @Benzaiten, and Lizzie @Tae
Mentions: none
Equipment: A cutlass, 2 knives and a dagger strategically hidden, a spyglass, a wayfinder, pouch of amas, various jewelry, and a lack of rum.

---

Nym let out a deep laugh at the prince who had taken to calling him bastard. Long voyages were certainly made easier with a fool to provide entertainment, and a title like prince could easily prove useful. He did not expect hard work from a royal, they lived soft lives, didn’t know how to fight for every scrap they could get, but it was more than likely he’d at least know how to use that sword he carried. “And here I was ‘bout to get you drunk and leave you in a den of sin to be robbed. A lucky day for us both.” He whispered back to Helio. His attention was quickly drawn away from the entertaining Helio to the siren that had snuck upon him.

“As I’m sure ya’ve heard, war is what’s on the menu. A most exciting time for piracy, the land plunged into chaos, so many ships loaded up and ripe for plundering. Play these cards right and we shall all live fat as cats before this one’s settled.” Nym replied to Tigerlily, as she asked about food and rum. A twinkle in his eye as he thought of all the wealth about to be floating about in the seas. Something far more exciting than a single meal.

“Éliane, no great surprise that ya seem to know every one of interest where ever ya may be. Merely a traveler with skills worth boastin’ of and a talent with words. ‘Ere for a proper adventure I assume.” He added, as the elven woman introduced them to the captain and the well-armed man with a bucket on his head.

Nym eyed the woman introduced as the captain; a woman whose name nor deeds had ever reached his ears. A gamble, certainly, to sail under one with no recognizable reputation, but he liked to gamble. He had a good feeling about this one, and if he was wrong a poor captain was easy to replace. A ship as fine as the one Barboda pointed to, that was something to be proud of, well worth a risk. His attention shifted from sizing up the captain to staring longingly at the vessel as she rocked with the waves. She was fine craftsmanship, a true beauty; sleek, agile, and built for speed. Nym rarely loved people, but a proper boat built with care quickly found a place within his heart.

“Aye, Cap’n, I gotta good feeling about ya.“ He spoke with a nod though his eye was still fixed on the ship. More than ready to leave the shore, even as the others spoke of shopping. Barboda, on the other hand, seemed more than ready to get down to business, an admirable trait. The ship was fully stocked, more than ready to set sail.

“Let's get the cap’n sorted and leave this hunk o’ dirt behind.” Nym added, breaking his gaze from the ship and gesturing towards the Odds N Ends store that had been suggested.

Avalia

Time: 9 am, Soller
Location: Greenhouse in Roshmi City
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with about 120 amas

---

Orias simply watched as the dark elf, Nabarra, clambered up the wall and after the archer. This was not his fight, and even if he did believe her a traitor to her own race, he wasn’t risking his neck for a dark elf. This turn of events actually made things a lot easier, he’d leave whether or not he was going to extend a small amount of trust to Nabarra up to the gods. If she died, the problem was over, if not he’d accept her story. By Nabarra’s own admission she’d killed plenty, he’d lose no sleep over the death of a dark elf, and he could think of far better ways for him to die, than getting involved in another’s business.

So Orias waited and after a brief amount of time, Nabarra returned looking a little worse for the wear. You have a rather twisted sense of humor, Lightgiver. If it was Solaris’s will for him to keep company with a dark elf who was he to question it, the gods had given their answer. As Nabarra suggested a drink he gestured towards the exit from the alleyway, preferring for her to lead the way. Maybe he accepted her story of being a traitor but he certainly wasn’t going to give his back to any dark elf.

“You realize that you will draw unnecessary attention, a dark elf, walking through a tavern, bleeding all over the floor. Let’s spare the fine citizens the heart attacks and pick up a cloak and some bandages first.” He suggested. “I’m Koldar.” He added, the fake name sliding off the tongue without hesitation, as it had for nearly a century. “So, you said you were in Roshmi to protect, got someone in mind?” He asked. A way to fight dark elves while staying in Roshmi City sounded a whole lot better than going back to his kingdom.

Avalia

Time: 9 am, Soller
Location: Greenhouse in Roshmi City
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with about 120 amas

---

Despite his tension in the situation, when the dark elf began to toss both arms and armor alike near his feet, this time Orias managed not to flinch. Even with his distrust of the race as a whole, he was beginning to believe that this dark elf might not actually be planning to kill him. He glanced down at them, half expecting something to happen, but they neither exploded nor burst into flames. He wondered if they were cursed; would some dark magic-fueled sickness infect him should he touch them? He did not want to find out. If this was a trick, it would seem a very poor one, and nothing attacked him during the momentary distraction. The more the dark elf spoke, the less everything made sense. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it, and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword.

How does one tell if a dark elf is lying? He wasn’t sure, he knew dark elves to be skilled in deception and treachery but both the words and expression worn by this one seemed true. He rolled his shoulders, tried to release the tension and hostility if no real fight was going to happen. He thought about how if he was stabbed in the back for letting his guard down amidst an enemy just how foolish his family would think him. He realized that their opinion of him was low enough it barely mattered anyhow.

“I wouldn’t call it fair, to murder someone in the streets. If you're remaining civil, I must as well. Never had much of a taste for blood anyway.” He managed to keep his words calm, not exactly friendly, but neutral was at least a start. He wanted a sign, that his trust wasn't misplaced. His gaze lifted towards the sky, towards the rays of Solaris. Orias caught a glimpse of light hitting metal and a slight shift in movement from the rooftops. “Duck." He whispered and dove from his position. Either this dark elf had been a distraction for another assassin, or someone in Roshmi had decided to claim revenge on the dark elf for the recent murder of the city's prince. Either way, he'd learn the dark elf's intentions more quickly now.

Avalia

Time: 9 am
Location: Port Vanarosa-The Seagull
Interactions: Helio @princess, Barboda @Alivefalling, Éliane @Benzaiten, and Lizzie @Tae
Mentions: none
Equipment: A cutlass, 2 knives and a dagger strategically hidden, a spyglass, a wayfinder, pouch of amas, various jewelry, and a lack of rum.

---

So the fairy was a heavy drinking tourist to the port looking for a good time. Even more promising he was free enough with his coin that he was already offering to replace the rum he’d drunk. He had a fine coat and the sword he wore, from what Nym could see, looked extravagant enough that he was betting Helio had amas to spare. The ideal plan was day drinking with the fairy until he'd lost most of his wits and abandoned the foolish tourist at The Sailor’s Pleasure to be fully taken advantage of by the women he considered his extended family. A good deed for the day and perhaps one of the ladies at The Sailor’s Pleasure would have a lead to follow up on in his hunt for a worthy crew to join. They certainly knew the port’s gossip better than any around. The only real flaw in his plans for today was that it involved returning to The Seagull where he’d just left a likely pissed-off demihuman with rather large fists and no time to cool off. Ah well, a problem for the near future.

Nym returned Helio’s dramatics with a mock bow and a flourish of his arm. “Nym, bastard child of the sea herself. What a pleasure for ya to make my acquaintance.” He said with a sly and sharp smile. Nym would not allow himself to be outdone, by a fae of all creatures, and he could already tell Helio had an equal taste for attention. Nym found himself slightly irked by the fact that the other man stood a bit taller than him, his preference was for others to have to look up at Nym to meet his gaze, not the other way around. At least orcs were both ugly and simple, it wasn’t even work to stand out amongst them. Helio on the other hand was both well dressed, entertaining, and cut an attractive figure. He was confident that soon he’d have the fairy three sheets to the wind and halfway to the floor in little time and a small difference in height would hardly matter then.

Before he had a chance to suggest they head inside and see who had the better handle on their alcohol, Helio was approached by a small group offering the fairy a spot on a crew. A stroke of good fortune, seemed like the fae was far more useful than Nym originally thought. The man who spoke wore armor past the gills and Nym didn’t trust a man whose eyes he couldn’t see. He noted the short red-haired woman, briefly admired the swagger in which she carried herself, but their third companion told him that they traveled in excellent company. He flashed a genuine smile as his eye caught Éliane, a delightful elf he’d encountered once before but Nym never forgot a genuinely interesting person especially when attached to a lovely face.

“Éliane, darling, ye come to my port, looking for crew and neglect to inform me? I’m wounded.” He kept his tone light and teasing.

“Nym, finest sailor here, beloved bastard of the sea herself. Tell me, who be your captain?” He asked, addressing the trio.

Avalia

Time: 9am, Soller
Location: Greenhouse in Roshmi City
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions: none
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with about 120 amas

---

The dark elf leaped to her feet and Orias quickly took a step back, keeping distance from the enemy whose foul reputation was enough to quicken his heartbeat. His instincts screamed danger, muscles and sinews clamored for him to draw the sword, go for a quick strike before the enemy could draw her own weapon. To stay alive, win by any means because honor didn’t apply to dark elves. His mind wanted him to believe that and his body wanted to live. But that was the easy way out, but a path that would make him no better than the enemy he feared. He had to be better.

While holding all the hostility he expected, her words only brought confusion. Who did he think he was? She didn’t know? It didn’t matter, dark elf assassin or not, he would not let his guard down. It had to be a diversion, but if not to kill him then who? As she wildly jabbed her finger towards him, Orias expected only the worst. His own fading light was not enough to combat dark magic, but no shadowy tendrils came for him.

Then her expression changed, one of the familiar pain of regret that did not suit the image of a dark elf he held in his mind. It could only be a trick. Her claim of meaning no harm was far too alien a concept, against everything he knew to be true about her kind.

“You want to die? Then why draw this out? Draw your weapon, make this a fair fight, I will be happy to oblige. But to go about killing unarmed opponents, is, I believe, your kind’s way. What other business could a dark elf have in Roshmi, if not to bring death? I will not let that happen.” His tone was cold and deliberate, but he could not ignore his curiosity towards her intentions. His hand did not leave his sword, it was the only defense he could depend on.