"A few nights ago," she begins, "I was the one listening to stories. Pappa... my father, that is... runs a tavern in one of Vista's less publically known districts. On most evenings, I work there as a waitress. He thinks it keeps me out of trouble," she giggles. "He means well. That's why I wear this," she says, ruffling her fingers through her hair. "I don't want him getting hurt for the work I do on the side. But I digress. A few nights ago, this fellow walks in, rambling about some nobleman or some such business, who had taken his property. You wouldn't believe how much he bent my ear. Or... maybe you would. By the end of it, I figured it would be an opportunity.

"When he walked out," Ara continues, "I followed. I slipped on my work hair, and stepped up to him on the road. 'I hear you have a problem,' I said, then had to wait through his story all over again. When he finally closed his mouth, I told him, 'I could get your property back for you, for the right fee.' It was the truth, for what I knew. So he tells me, 'Alright, halfbreed, you bring me what I am due, and you can name your fee.'

"I must say what he did next through me for a loop. He handed me a paper, complete with directions to a house, a layout of the inside, and just where to go to get his 'property'. He directed me to a table in what the layout referred to as a 'sitting room'. For all I cared, it could've been a swinging from the ceiling room, but he insisted that I remember it, like it was some sort of temple altar. Finally, once I made it quite clear that I would remember, he said to meet him at his home. Stupid me, I ask him where that is. He hands me another paper, says 'Don't be late, humanchild,' and walks away. There was no point in following further, I had my 'job' for the evening."

She pauses for a moment, letting her story sink in, then goes on. "I dressed up in garments suited for the work, then followed his directions down to the letter. At the end, I found myself at a fairly normal-looking house, at least as houses go on the wealthier side of town. The place didn't have a single candle lit, so I figured if anyone was home, they were likely asleep upstairs. It took a moment to open the front door, but after that, finding the 'sitting room' was a breeze. When I saw the table, there was nothing on it, but underneath was that book, plain as day. It even had his name on it," she gestures toward Silvan with one arm, before resting her palm on the earth. "If anything was what he wanted, I figured likely enough that was it. So I reach down, and pick it up."

Suddenly her tone grows angry, her face falls into a scowl, and she grits her teeth. "The damned thing started making more noise than an a hoard of old sailors watching a dancing girl!" she growls, then loosens her teeth, but the scowl on her face remains, and her voice remains hoarse with anger, "I... I ran for all I could, but it was no use! Someone started shooting bolts at me from the roof, and when I turned a corner, I ran into one of those... beasts! They dragged me back, they beat me, and then he walked in." This time, there is no gesture, no indication that she even speaks of the elf with whom she arrived. She shudders violently, then her face, her voice, her entire expression calms. "That man," she says, on the verge of weeping, "he was going to kill me, I just knew he was. I gave him the papers. Then... then..." she stops, ducking her head between her knees, and sobs.

ooc:
The above post is excessively long, and covers a time of five to seven minutes in total. If anyone believes their character would interrupt, I am placing a chronology break at the line, "She pauses for a moment, letting her story sink in, then goes on." A short interruption will merely fall within that time. However, a longer one, or one which would interfere with her continuing her story, will result in her actions changing. If that happens, I will remove the part which gets interrupted.

Through most of her story, the girl looks directly at you. Her eyes do not flinch, and she makes no sudden movements through to the end. It is hard to say if her story is true, though you can find no inconsistencies in its telling.

Reyolen

What she tells you comes as a surprise, for all of two reasons. First, you had not even realized, even with the shedding of her hair, that she was the tavern girl you had entrusted not to remember your tale once you walked out the door that eve. Second, her story as a whole seems to fit with what you recall of the evening.

You had gone to a tavern after being sorely doublecrossed at the home of your "contractor". While you did not take heavily in ale, you did talk quite a bit that evening, believing that only an elf would have ear enough to care, or memory enough to retain what you spoke of. Afterwards, the half-human with bright red hair, which was now obviously a wig, approached you with an offer to retrieve your property. You had presumed, since she knew that much, that she must have obvously been spying on you, so must know what your property was. You agreed to her deal, then went home to bed, satisfied that you would have retribution for what had been done to you.

Then, of course, there was the whole unpleasantness with the lizardmen showing up at your home, and the events that came after.

The talking in the camp has grown much easier on the ears. In fact, at some parts, you would need to strain just to hear what is being said. However, the quieter tones make resting more viable than it had been a few moments before, and the evening has been long.

Ruvyen

While the two elves and the half-elf girl sit around the fire, one or another talking quietly, you have time enough to get your armor on in full. Even once that's done, the three of them still seem to be talking amongst themselves.

Falaanla

Three of your new companions seem to be telling stories around the campfire. Ithar sits down on your shoulder, and nuzzles the side of your face. Eventually, with the comment, "happy dreamies," the little bird begins to nod off.

Drakkenmaw

Activity within the camp seems to have slowed, and the night has grown silent. In the darkness, and with the trees as cover, you manage to approach just as close as you had been before, and can see quite clearly. This time, it appears that they have not noticed you, even in the light. The dwarf, once you are near enough to discern his motions, appears distracted. A few members of the group have gathered by the campfire, and others appear to have fallen idle on the other side of the camp.

He takes his hand off of his chin and looks at Ara, "Whom was going to kill you?" he asks.

[ 01-27-2002: Message edited by: Willias ]

"I.. suppose we've both had a rough time of things," she says softly, looking into the fire. "Cages can wear on anyone's nerves," she pauses for a second. "Your apology is accepted," she almost whispers, "and you're right. This is not the time nor place to argue."

ooc:
Willias, see the description of the scroll's contents on the bottom of page 5. You can read the same parts as Reyolen.

Having nothing better to do at the moment, Khazmon decides to walk over to the campfire, where most of the others are.

The dwarf has now joined three of the others by the firelight. The only one still looking even remotely in your direction is an owl, perched atop a wagon, on the far side of the camp.

Ruvyen

You find an open spot between the half-elf who untied you earlier, and the robed elf whom the two of you had hauled out of the other wagon. Ara, the half-elf, is seated next to Aust, while the robed elf (you thought you heard him call himself Silver Corpse, though you weren't paying much attention) is still standing. Aust has something in his hand, which you saw Ara hand to him as you walked up. Ara now stares into the fire, her knees pointed towards you, with one arm extended at her side for support.

There are a few others on the far side of the camp. A leather-clad elf is sitting with his legs folded. You can see a head in his lap, with feline ears and a short muzzle, though the creature's body is concealed within a bedroll. Nearby to them is a small winged girl with something small sitting on her shoulder. You have not learned any of their names yet.

He looks over to Ara and asks, "What does this have to do with you Ara?"

If you had any idea what they were talking about, you might be able to form a coherent answer. Aust just spent the last moment reading something in a language you've only heard during festivals, when wizards cast their cantrips for the public's entertainment. Ara spoke in Common, but kept referring to things you haven't heard of. In all, it might help to have more information.

Reyolen

Hearing the parchment read aloud, the word 'Terranos' sounds familiar. It is a derogatory term for those lizardfolk who serve in the Terranada militia. You have been inclined to use it yourself on occasion, though not to any of their faces. The other terms, however, are no more familiar to you than to your fireside companions.

[ 01-28-2002: Message edited by: Reyolen ]

[ 01-28-2002: Message edited by: Willias ]

ooc: Alarm

Ic: After that, Silvan sat down in indian style and began to take all thoughts from his mind.

You feel a tingling sensation in your eyes and ears as you discharge the spell upon your spellbook. Afterwards, you can sense no difference in the book's nature. That, however, is no different from what usually happens.

Maybe I should go to sleep also, I am a bit tired...

With that, she unrolls the bedroll that she was carrying, as she lightly picks up Ithar from her shoulder and places him right by the bedroll, and she lays down to sleep, or at least try to...

[ 01-29-2002: Message edited by: Ruvyen Warblade ]

ooc:
Careful, Willias. You don't want to fall out of character.

This evening has been quite an experience. You've learned new things about your companion, and met several new people. However, the day has been long, and in all you find it very easy to pass into sleep.

Ruvyen

It's well past sunset, and you've been up for a good long while now. Unless you plan to stay up on watch yourself, you would need to plant that responsibility on someone else. That means either talking Aust into it, or waking someone else up.

Willias

It's pretty dark out, so if you plan to talk to that lizardman, you would need to find him first. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it feels quite odd that you might place your trust in a lizardman.

Then there's the matter of this parchment. While you read aloud all that you could comprehend, there is still the matter of the odd writing down the paper's right margin, and the crude drawing in the lower left.

He pauses and remembers what Ara said to him. "Oops!" he says as he walks over the the scrollcase. He picks it up and puts it on the top edge of his bedroll, and lays his head upon it. "Won't lose the case if I sleep on it..." Aust says, and closes his eyes.

[ 01-30-2002: Message edited by: Willias ]

Ah, good old-fashioned sleep. Sleeping was probably the most pleasant concept that Mary taught you. Even with your less than comfortable pillow, you soon find yourself drifting off to dreamland.

Ruvyen

And thus you have been nominated for first watch. You could've used some sleep, but hopefully you can keep your eyes open a little while longer.

This probably meant guard duty.

Khazmon looks around, hoping that someone will suddenly wake up. Of course, he doesn't expect his wish to come true, but...

"Aw, man..." he says to himself. He was tired. Very tired. He'd probably pass out somewhere if he stayed on guard duty long enough. But then again, staying up on guard duty would be better than going to sleep and waking up with the chance of those lizardmen waiting.

Or, if the lizardmen came back, they might not wait, just kill them right there...

Khazmon decided to stop thinking, and get his axes ready.

ooc:
If nobody objects, I'd like to move things along a bit. Ruvyen, let me know if anything here is out of character.

Having your axes ready seems like a good idea. As the hours pass, however, your legs complain about the long hours. The night is peaceful, and the fire is warm and inviting. It couldn't hurt to just... sit... "Zzzz."

Drakkenmaw

The night grows late. Most of those in the camp have long been asleep, but the one dwarf remains on guard. For a while, he paces about the camp. Eventually, however, he too sits down beside the fire, and appears to nod off.

Listening closely to the sound of the sleepers' steady breathing, the lizardman reassured himself of their unconsciousness. Then he strode quickly and purposefully into the camp, and looked at the scene before him.

From this close vantage, and with the bright orange glow of the slowly waning campfire to aid you, you can see the whole of the camp quite clearly. There are seven inhabitants in all, of varied races and assorted garb, scattered through the camp.

Three individuals lay around the fire. One, the dwarf who spotted you before, sits hunched over a pair of axes, his body covered with a curtain of steel scales. Across from him, two slender figures lay sprawled out in sleeping rolls. One appears to be a dark-haired elf, with a small case beneath his head. The other is a woman, with bright red hair concealing her ears. She may be human, or perhaps a half-elf.

Off to the left, beside the toppled wagon that first warned you of the camp's presence, an elf in decorated robes sits between one of your slain kin and a pile of supplies, with his back against the wagon's bars for support. His hair appears yellow in the firelight. The creature lies face down on the earth, with a backpack stretched across its shoulders.

To the right of the fire, nestled between two upright wagons, are three more figures. An elven man with dark hair and suntanned skin sits with his legs folded. Most of his form is covered in heavy leather garb, spotted with small metal studs that reflect the firelight like a hundred tiny eyes. One hand sits in his lap, nestled behind the ear of a fellin woman's head. The fellin's form is nestled in a sleeping bag, with her toes sticking out the far end. Beside the two of them is a backpack, a large staff held bent by a fine but sturdy strand of twine, and a tube with several twigs sticking out the end.

Nearby to those two, a small girl lies nestled in her own little sleeping roll. Her long and ample auburn hair lies spread upon the ground. At a distance, the grasses hid her form entirely, as it appears now that she would stand scarcely up to your own thigh. Even for a halfling, she appears small and frail, and the fine silvery sheet wrapped around her seems far too thin to shield her form from the chill of the night air.

Nearer to you, two more of your kin lay slain, charred from a source you do not now comprehend. You stand beside a supply wagon, with several slabs of meat sitting loose inside. There are also several odds and ends, including a large shoulder bag much like the one you carry.

The only figure awake in the camp is a rotund-looking brown bird with large, beady eyes. It watches you in silence, never averting its gaze from your form, but not showing any other reaction to your presence.

Still, there was a more pressing matter than observing the slumbering individuals around the campfire. There was the watch, and there was food.

From where he stood, Drakkenclaw glanced towards the meat on the wagon. It seemed properly prepared, though somewhat dry-looking. He took a small sliver, tried it, and gagged. Horrible!

The lizardman then looked down at the charred lizardman behind him. It was no longer living, obviously. That meant it was time for scavengers to use the resources in whatever way would best serve the Shalm.

Crouching down, Drakkenclaw scraped away the charred scales of his former kin and slowly pulled a sliver of meat from the inside of the body. He tasted it, and smiled. Fresh kills always tasted so very much better.

=+=

After a few minutes, the lizardman had a goodly pile of meat resting on the supply cart. He then paused, and looked at the owl watching him curiously.

Loyal creature, he thought, but even you need to eat at times. Might you consider trusting a fellow scavenger with your meal? There's food enough for all.

Drakkenclaw had by this time walked over near the fire, and held out a small chunk of meat to the bird on the wagon. He gestured at it invitingly.

The task of cleaving meat and scale from your own kind takes a bit of time. Even charred as it is, the meat deep within still clings to the bones, and there is quite a large share of meat to cleave in all.

As you step towards it, the owl grows somewhat fidgety, batting its wings a couple times. However, it does not leave its perch, even when you hold the meat out. It sits, blinking on occasion, watching you cautiously.

"That's for you, friend..." he whispered softly, "Consider it an offering, to that which has sculpted something beautiful as you." The lizardman then turned back to his work and his meal.

[ 02-06-2002: Message edited by: Drakkenmaw ]

The owl does not move from its perch so long as you watch it. For a few moments after you return to your more practical pursuits, the night is quiet. Then, you hear a slight fluttering, and spot the owl in the corner of your eye. It has flown over to the nearer wagon, and now picks tactfully at the small strip of meat you left there. It still watches you warily, dropping its gaze only long enough to claim its next bite.

Finally, as the moon begins to rise over the eastern horizon, your carving is completed, exposing the raw bones of your charred kin. The meat you strip from nearest the bone proves to be the sweetest, as is typically true for recent prey.

Taylen

As your cycle of meditation comes to an end, your sense movement in the camp around you. A rather large creature, well over six feet in total, stands over one of the charred corpses, beside the supply cart. It appears to be gnawing at a slab of meat, and the corpse itself has been stripped to the very bone. The creature's back is to you, covered by a shroud of earthen brown tone. Only a short length of its tail extends out from the cloak. The thick, serpentine tail is covered with tan scales, like those lining the bellies of the creatures who had been in this camp before your arrival.

Even with its size, it is unlikely that this creature has consumed a whole lizardman. It may have had companions who have since departed, or it may have stacked the meat out of your sight. However, the scene has a slightly odd feel to it. Only when you notice your companion's owl friend do the pieces begin to fall into place. This creature, whatever its purpose here may be, had a chance to attack without resistance. Instead, it merely scavenges the slain of its own kind.

Taylen twitches each muscle slowly getting himself readied in case he has to move in a hurry while still appearing to resting and watching the lizardperson through half-lidded eyes.

ooc:
Sorry for the short absence. My job got busy, and took the better part of my time for a few days.

The creature appears to take no notice of you, and it's probably best that way. The furry head adorning your lap would prove an impediment to any quick action you might take. You could wake her, of course, but that might draw more attention in your direction than you would like at the moment.

As you watch in silence, the creature begins to pile hunks of flesh into the supply cart, most likely carved from the charred corpse that lay beside it. After a few moments, the pieces are piled, and the creature pauses. It takes a small bit of meat, and places it a few feet from Twin Moon, before wandering off towards the woods.

The bird waits until the lizardman departs, then hops over to the slab and begins nipping away at it cheerfully. Perhaps this creature is not so much a threat as these others had assumed him to be, though you could scarcely blame them for their reactions. You recall Raerethar telling you once not to judge wild creatures by their appearances, as they will often surprise you.

Your druid companion shifts slightly. The tingling sensation her fur creates in your fingers reminds you of her presence. She is a druid, and it was in her company that you first met Twin Moon. As a druid, she and her ilk have a talent with creatures of the wild. Perhaps this lizardman is of that profession as well.

Drakkenmaw

It appears that much of the fallen brush has already been cleared away, most likely for use in the blaze that first revealed your presence. There are a few scattered bits of tinder, but a stick suitable for your intended purpose would likely need to be broken from one of the trees. And that would be rather cumbersome to accomplish, considering you would need to leap your own height over again to reach a suitable branch.

You do, however, manage to find something rather unusual during your search. On the ground beside a tree, you notice a small cloth bag. It has spilled open, and what appear to be teeth lie scattered around nearby.

As you shift Freya's head, she snuggles a bit more into the bedroll, and purrs slightly for a second before quieting down. Beyond that, you notice no movement from anyone in the camp as you depart.

The creature appears to be searching the woods nearby to the camp. You spot it beside a tree, looking down at a small cloth bag surrounded by scattered small white objects.

Aanile

You are having a dream about snuggling next to a large brown bear in a bed of flowers. The bear licks your face, and it feels warm and friendly.

Reyolen

As you awaken from your meditation, you notice the leather-clad elf walking out of the campsite and into the nearby trees. The fire is still burning, though not as bright as before. Everyone else in camp is asleep. Well, except for the owl, who has changed its perch from one wagontop to another, and is nipping away at a small slab of meat.

Drakkenmaw

As you look down at the bag of teeth on the ground, you notice something in the corner of your eye. It appears that one of the elves from the camp has followed you. Perhaps he was not asleep as you had originally thought. The only weapons apparent on him are the two swords at his hips. The bow and arrows you noticed by his side in the camp have not joined him in following you.

"That bird of yours is a fine creature. It didn't try to kill me."

For a lizardman, his Common was surprisingly good and well-enunciated.