The Ancient World

Kai gave a faint smile, "There's a spare room upstairs, next to yours, put her up in there, stay if you like, sir, there's another room as well, just sign the book up on the main counter there. I'll take you to your room, just a sec." He pointed to the book, "I'll... um... boil some water for tea, then maybe something else, if I can find it." He turned tail towards the kitchen, poking through some stuff before he turned up a small loaf of bread, the box of tea, and some jerky that he threw into some spare venison broth he turned up. The teakettle jerked and hissed at him and he took it off, pouring the piping hot water into a cup. He sprinkled the tea leaves into it and set everything on a tray, and carrying it to wherever the other's were, his nose telling the way, his bright tail shifting with his movement. If the man was still with the women, he would lean over to look at the girl, his nose wrinkling delicately, he didn't care much for sick people, before turning to the man, "I can show you your room, if you like now."

Wraith nodded, almost absently, as Kai directed them to a room that was next to hers. She knew that she would now have to pay for two lodgings as well as what ever the woman used during her stay. It was no big deal really and Wraith wasn't the kind of person to hold debts.

Looking over her shoulder she nodded to the shady man that she couldn't quite place the scent of. His wings were evident to her, but there were so many beings she'd encountered in the past with wings that she wasn't sure exactly which one he was. "You're right, we'll let the broth cool and when she wakes, after breaking the fever, she can eat." She smiled gently, approving of his idea, but not openly letting him know of it.

She looked over at some patron, noticing that the man next to her was in no shape to carry the woman upstairs, not with a limp like he had. "Come, help me!" she commanded and the unknown patron obeyed without a word. This wasn't because of any coercion, it was just because he was a nice fella and happy to help.

They got her up to the room, Kai having provided the key and she settled the woman on the bed, piling the sheets onto her after taking care of the woman's dank and wet clothes. She had, of course, ushered all the male patrons out before hand, but now they were back, if indeed Vi had followed her as she fussed around the sleeping elf.

There was almost something tender and motherly in her ministrations.

Had been rather intently focused on the fallen elf and hadn't noticed Kai come up behind him until he spoke. Vi jumped, turning his heard sharply to take in the dog-eared boy. It was those brightly colored ears that he couldn’t help but notice and gave a weak nod in response to the offering of a room. The falcon perched proudly gave up its task of grooming to stare with intelligent eyes at the half-demon, head cocking to the left with interest gazing on Kai even as he left to go procure food items for the sick woman.

Vi made his slow way to the fore mentioned book, unlit cigarette still clasped between his teeth. It was given a quick look, a page taken up with dirty fingers as he inspected it within the time that Wraith had Lor taken up the stairs and set her up in the room.

The Vampire would notice that she had been followed after the door was opened to ‘visitors’ once more. Heavy boots made light noise as Vi moved into the room, careful to be quiet…and perhaps babying his bad leg some over the ordeal of coming up the stairs. Coming to the bed side he looked down on the elven-woman with concern, dark brows falling to match his faint frown. “I tried to tell her not to go ahead…” He mumbled at first, words slightly muffled by the presence of the cigarette. “Such a good traveling companion, made every effort to hide her illness but with this weather…I fell behind and lost track of ‘er.” His tone conveyed his apparent sadness of Lor’s state, claiming to know her after all…
He ran his hand through almost non-existent stubble upon his head as he looked to Wraith “I do appreciate your kindness.” Io, the falcon took wing as the words came, going the short distance from Vi’s shoulder to the land at the head of the bed frame. The bird looked down to the Elf, uttering soft churrs of concern and pacing some in distress.

“She just has to pull through…I don’t know what I’d do if…” The shady man paused, a bit of his tough exterior chipping away as his voice cracked. He didn’t try to finish, hands falling limp to his sides as he looked back down to the blond Lor. Was it true sadness that sparkled in those pale blue eyes? It’d be hard for even the most trained at seeking out fallacies to tell one way or another. By all signs he appeared to have honest intentions.

Wraith was startled to learn that the mysterious man with wings knew the elven woman. She was more than surprised, actually, as had seemed to be less then accomodating towards the elf when they had met. Now he almost seemed to breaking apart inside.

She waved towards a chair, "It may be some time. Sit down and rest your leg." She murmured, taking a cloth from the bedside table to dab at the sweating forehead of the woman wrapped up in sheet beneath her.

She looked up as Kai entered the room and gave the half demon a quick smile. Then she straightened up, "Until she wakes, I suggest we leave her be." She turned to the man, "You will keep an eye on her?" she asked, but it was not really a question, more of a statement, actually.

Then she frowned, "What a night!"

It took a long while before the dreamless sleep finally began to exude some resemblance of humanoid life and memory, but when blackness turned into faint flickers of light tracing themselves incomprehensibly as designs and patterns across the dream-scape that made up the elven woman's scattered attempt at reality, she remained quite lost.

It was only when a stentorian voice of vague familiarity echoed throughout the confusing scenery of her half-dream that Lor finally began to remember that she was some sort of variation of the biped persuasion. Her name, however, was held hostage by a sneering, startlingly handsome monster.

Inutile woman. The once-pet name caused the elf to murmur loudly, her chin tilting to the side and one thin, bare arm sliding out from under the sheets of her bed, her hand clenched painfully into a white-knuckled fist. In her dream the elf called upon some forgotten power of her ancestors and shrunk the handsome man to a size less intimidating than his previous height of six feet. She lifted him in the cusp of one fingernail and, ignoring his squeaky proclamations of supremacy, blew him away.

Lorëa... the name whispered itself in ripples across the colorful nothingness. The normalcy of the word made the sleeping elf wonder how she could have ever forgotten it. What she could not make sense of, however, was the accompanied objects brought with the name – lots and lots of strawberries.

I don't even like those! She lucidly began to pick the fruit away from the suggested eponym, which gradually began to uncover colorful images of memories. Oh yes, the few days spent hiding in a cave whose entrance was too small to allow the abnormality into it's dank, mossy depths, thus saving Lor and her pony from an untimely death in the acid-leaking jaws of some mutated troll. Her first experience with thievery, in which the elf crammed her pockets with as many apples as possible while the seller's back was turned; during her hurried escape from the unamused gentleman, she ended up losing almost all the fruit and spent the night hungry, despite her efforts. A traveling bard with a particularly aggressive respiratory infection, which she had been able to clean up with a few weaves, and with which he had rewarded her with hot meals, brief company and a few coppers. A few faces of memorable kindness, more of contrite behavior, miles and miles of wilderness...

Suspiciously absent from these recalled experiences is a man with wings.

Draganchroi wrote:

"Nay lad, I came to inquire as to quests. Have you heard anything of interest? Reassure your lad that i wont harm him, i dont think hes ever seen my kind before, hes a bit antsy. On the subject my good man, i believe i will brave your skullsplitter brew."

"Be just one moment" he said trundling back to the bar, pouring a thick, almost brown liquer into a heavy, lead shod mug made from an orc skull. 'Lad' Willard mused. Sure the elf was probably a hundred zillion years older than he was, yadda, yadda, yadda, elf superiority and all that rot, but Willard wasn't all that concerned about it. After all, there was a world of difference between 'age' and 'maturity'. In Willard's experience, most elves were slow to consider much with anything akin to a sense of urgency that would suit him. That and so damn many of them had a nasty habit of looking down their pointy noses at pitiable, undeserving commoners like human barkeeps like him... well, let's see if scaly elves were any different.

"Here you are sir", he said, setting the mug down before him. "That'll be sure to set the blood to thickening and put a fire in yer belly it will."

He sat himself back down opposite the elf. "Can't say I've seen your type myself sir, and I've seen a fair share pass through this tavern. I can't say that there's much of a quest brewing in these part for one such as yourself. Cock fighting and orc patroling just doesn't seem to fit the look of you."

Willard leaned back in his chair for a moment, "But maybe you have a story to tell?" That might earn you a free bed, ... If it's a worthwhile tale of course."

The man took a deep breath, sucking back the emotions that had trickled out. His countenance shifted back to the rather casual demeanor he’d been under when Wraith had first encountered him. A wall perhaps? A mask to hide his true feelings? Or perhaps this was the way he truly felt...
Anyhow as soon as the seat was offered Vi hobbled his way to it, hunkering down after moving it to Lor’s beside with a large groan of pain. No point in trying to hide his injury, she’d already noticed it. The strain of standing that pulled on his dark features lifted with the blessed relief of being able to sit. Ah. He nodded in response to her question, “Of course.”

Vi shifted his shoulders, leaning to the left to let the heavy leather pack he carried fall to the wooden floor with a thud. The worn pack jangled with a ring of the metallic as he shifted it to his side with a heavy boot. Quick fingers began to undo the many buckles and straps that kept the pack tightly shut. This was done as he focused on the ‘sleeping’ elf, unlit cigarette hanging limp from his thin lips. He finally produces a small knife and a very red apple. Both are used to keep his hands busy, the apple peeled with care as he waited for the others to leave the room.

Io remained perched on the headboard, sharp talons digging into the wood without care as the large bird peered down at the ill woman, still eeping in distress until Lor began to come back to the world of the living. Dark eyes full of intelligence gazed on her, the falcon learning down as far as possible without falling…it sensed her turn around before Vi did, wings shaking at her sides with excitement and anticipation.

Wraith nodded and dragged a chair to the bedside, sitting herself down as well. There was not much more she could do, it was really up to the elven woman now. The woman's scent wasn't alarming enough that she needed to send for a healer. Wraith would have known instantly if Lor had been diseased. But for now, a high temperature and a warbled mind were the only sufferings that she could detect.

She looked over at the man on the chair and stared at him impassively for a few moments. "If I could ask, what manner of man are you?" she was more than direct and there was a hint of something more than curiosity in her eyes.

She was careful not to let her aura of power show... like she always was.

Vi had encountered the this very same question a hundred times or more, asked a thousand different ways. He supposed it mostly curiosity; after all, how many winged persons wandered the streets on a regular basis? The extra appendages were almost impossible to hide, and every attempt he made to do so not only failed, but seemed to call more attention to those dark wings that loomed behind him.

But Wraith’s tone was far too direct and held too much suspicion to be mere curiosity. Vi had become very aware of the way others obeyed her without question, that rather noble bearing she had. She was a woman of stature, of some sort of rank he guessed. What she was doing in a pub like this one made him slightly unsure. From all experiences, women of her kind did not mingle with men of his ilk.

Without much debate he decided that a direct answer would be most suited to the situation. He had no desire to lose any trust he’d gained so far. The less honest he seemed in this area, the less likely he was telling the truth in other parts of his tale. Such as his supposed ‘friendship’ with the eleven woman who lay before him. The need to keep his story sound settles things, no beating around the bush this time...almost.

The apple became more and more misshapen as it was cut at by the small knife. It was skinned and quartered casually, as if Vi had done so many a time. A good sized piece of the fruit was tossed over the bed in an easy arc towards Wraith. It would be a simple catch if the fair skinned woman noticed the offering coming her way.
“Best apple you’ll ever sink your teeth into…” The man muttered as he settled himself some. The knife and the remaining bits of apple were set on the floor as his hands needed to be freed up to remove the wet cloak that clung to him. Once the clasp was undone, the ragged pile of material would fall to the ground with a soggy slap, excess water pooling around mess. This done, the cause of his questioned Race came into full view.

At first those ebony wings held a majestic presence, arching just above his shoulders before falling in a cascade of dark feathers to his right and left, the tips just touching the wooden floor. A cloak that far outshined the one made of cloth he had worn moments before. But, if given a closer look, the true condition of these glorious appendages would show true. The feathers held no glossy sheen of health, appearing rather dusty instead. Many of these were bent out of shape or missing entirely. Patches of some sort or mold or debris clumped at the base of many of the feather shafts, slowly eating away at the delicate fibers that held each feather in place. They were a mess like the man who bore them and had certainly seen better days.

“ Lavanyin ” Vi spoke, abruptly giving the woman her answer, though probably not in terms she would be familiar with. No, he used the word for his Race in his native tongue, the unearthly language falling easily from his lips, if not a bit muffled by the unlit cigarette he still chewed on. His tone was kept purposely friendly, casual. He had nothing to hide but he wasn’t going to make the hunt for a clear answer an easy one. If Wraith truly wanted an answer, she’d pursue…and Vi wanted to see just how far down the rabbit hole she was willing to go.
“Good apple?” Pale eyes moved to gaze at the dark haired woman, a slow nod given as he waited to see if she had eaten any of the shared food.

Wraith snatched the piece of fruit neatly out of the air. She turned over the apple piece in her hands as her excellent hearing picked up his quip about 'sinking teeth'. She barely smiled, and took a slow, appreciative bite of the fruit. It seemed that she wasn't the only person in this room testing the waters.

The apple's juices ran down her tongue and into her throat, she grinned wider in appreciation. Taking another bite, she neatly snapped the remainder in half, her normal teeth sharp enough to cut into the fleshy fruit.

"Lavanyin?" She asked innocently, though the term did tickle something in her memory, she wanted to know for sure what it meant. "I can't say I've ever heard that name," she noted his black wings and raised an eyebrow. She had known many beings with wings in her time. Hell, she'd even had them herself for a stage, but that part of her life was over now.

She felt a slight grumble in her stomach and clenched the hand at her side behind her back, barely keeping her teeth from gritting in pain. Damn Him! She kept a pleasant smile on her face and placed the rest of the apple calmly in her mouth. Chewing, as if thoughtfully, though it was all that she could do, she murmured between bites, "There are a plethara of winged beings in this world. If you expect me to know you on sight, you should at least show me something more significant than that."

She was in no way being mean, however her tone of voice was rather testy. Just simply because of the current pain coursing through her body as her Tormentor pulled the strings connected to her from Hell. He was laughing, and she knew it.

It was all she could do not to double up in pain. "It was delicious," she heard herself saying distantly. Then she smiled abruptly, "I am called Wraith," all of a sudden, the need for others to know her name before she departed this world became overbearing.

“Sorry Sweetheart, what you see is what you get...” Vi quipped at her comment at needing to see ‘more’ to properly identify his species. “Most would call me an Angel I suppose, though many of the ideas attached to that name are quite comical…and dead wrong.”

Soon after he reached down to snatch up two more pieces of the ripe fruit, dusty feathers rubbing against the back of the wooden chair as he did so. The man had to sit at the very edge of his seat, wings held out at his sides to accommodate the supportive backing the seat offered. After a bit of the thought the man rose with a grunt. The chair was turned around, moved to still face the ill Elf and Wraith, though now the back of the seat faced them. Much better. Vi could sit now, straddling the chair between his legs, dirty arms resting against the top ridge of the wooden backing. The ebony wings relaxed as he did, falling in a limp mess of feathers behind him.

With all this adjusting he’d missed some of the subtle signs of the pale woman’s sudden discomfort, but as he gazed at her now he spotted that something was amiss. He’d intended to offer her another slice of apple that he held…but as she introduced herself he could only find the nerve to simply nod, tucking the information away as the cause of her odd behavior took the forefront of the mysteries about her. “You sure that apple is sittin’ well with you, Wraith?” The last thing he needed was to be in a room with two ill woman, he could only hope it wasn’t catching.

Despite a rising sense of urgency since she had sluggishly crawled out of the confusing mess of dreams, Lor forced herself to remain as she was, not daring to so much as twitch a finger in order to stay unnoticed by the strangers talking across her reclined form.

The first time the sound of something with claws grated against the wood just above her head, the elf had nearly flung herself upright. However, with the practiced calm of someone who had apparently learned to play dead quite well, she stayed put, listening intently to discern what it was perched on the bed frame, finding it particularly unnerving to feel its eyes upon her.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay still as the last heaviness of her strange sleep wore off. An uncomfortable tingling crept up Lor's legs, replacing the numb feeling in her limbs, the effect of which surely was the last of her fever having one last go at her system. Additionally, a nagging headache had settled between her eyes, the throbbing pain almost forcing the woman's light brow to pull in to attempt a release of the building tension in her facial muscles.

Lor was somewhat relieved to learn that the pair talking across the bed to each other were strangers, and that they seemed friendly enough, if not rather guarded and peremptory during their exchange. The confirmation of the man having wings was a strange bit of information indeed, and for a moment she forgot about the creepy whatever-it-was above her head until an unsettling sound came from its direction. So, some kind of animal, a sort of anti-angel and an authoritative woman named Wraith...

Lor really wasn't sure what bothered her more – the fact that her clothes and remaining weapons were anywhere but on her naked person, or that her foot had just involuntarily twitched as a result of the prickling now running the length of her entire body. But really, she couldn't hope to stay unnoticed for long with a woman of superior senses and a hawk above her head, now could she?

Well, can't stay like this forever... The elf still found herself reluctant to open her eyes, so settled on remaining still until signs showed that the people had noticed.

Aryulin smiled at the innkeeper's mention of a story, taking a long draught from the tankard.
"Stories I have friend, but few are now fit for telling. I have lived a long life, and many tales have come to me over such a time, perhaps if you have a particular sort of yarn you care to hear an appropriate one could be drawn from me."

Wraith gave a tight smile. Though her body felt as if Holy Fire was raging through her, she kept smiling and nodded slowly, "I enjoy fruit," she said, again distantly. Her eyes began to glaze over in pain and she felt her nails begin to dig into the palm of her hand. She refrained from letting the others in the room even detect her discomfort but it was getting harder by the second. She clenched her teeth and bared her lips into a semblance of a smile once again.

Seeking an excuse to look away from the prying eyes of the angel in front of her, she cast her gaze around the room, taking the painful time to catalogue every object in that space.

Her smile was fixed, her eyes glassy as her gaze suddenly locked with the open eyes of the elf on the bed. She blinked, her eyes coming into focus once again, even though the fist at her side began to shake with the effort of not crying out.

Smiling gently, she looked down at the awakened elf and stepped towards her, "Hello there, you gave us quite a scare," she purposely included the Angel and held her body at such an angle that the elf would just need to tilt her head a few degrees to the right to see the seated man in her room.

Wraith looked closely to see the ill woman's reaction.

"Are they now?" Kile said, seeming to think deeply. The elf's claims were balterdash, he knew a hook when he heard one, but such was the game.
"Well, how would I know that the stories are unfit if you keep them close to your tongue, Ay? But maybe another drink might help you select a good tale from your memory. If I may choose, I choose one about yourself. I have seem many things in my own life, but a scaled elf is new to me."

"So then, what is your story, master elf?"

Aryulin smiled again.

My story is long, and I'm sure it would hold no interest for a man like you, but if you insist." he took a swig of the beer and cleared his throat.

"My name is Aryulin, I was born 1200 years ago, among the Warsong clan of the Ashnari Drakynmer, though i suppose your people would call me a Dragon Elf. I was raised to be an... agent of sorts, and thus i was trained in all facets of personal combat, whether unarmed, in melee, or at range. I was taught to fight on the battlefield as a dragoon or in the barroom as a brawler, such was the range of the necessary knowledge. I came of age and was blooded in the usual way, and was soon set to adventures across the world." He said, taking another sip,

"But I'm sure there is not much to fascinate one so used to tales of adventure as yourself."

Io peered down at the ill woman intently as the others chatted in the room. The bird wasn’t interested in their verbal dance around each other...and became even less concerned as her sharp eyes spotted a bit of movement. The occasional ‘eep’ of concern became more urgent and at a higher pitch. When this change in tone didn’t seem to catch her winged companion’s attention she resorted to actually flipping her darkly colored wings with force. She remained steady at her spot, talons digging into the wood of the headboard as the flapping created small bursts of air that ripped the sheet that covered Lor’s bare body.

Vi had been rather intent on sorting out just who this ‘Wraith’ was, and had almost forgotten his falcon was on the watch until the bits of breeze hit him. Even the pale woman noticed before he did that the Elven woman had begun to come awake. A strung of curses was filtered from his lips, only playing aloud in his mind. Only a quiet “Oh.” escaped his lips as a plan whirred through his head. Now was the moment of truth, this fever-crazed woman the only thing standing between the winged man and a free night’s sleep in this room.

Any uneasiness he felt was artfully masked. If his sudden brightening of spirit was a ruse it’d be hard to tell. By the look of it, he was just glad to see that his lady friend had come back from her battle of mind numbing fever. The cigarette, now a good bit chewed, was still held within the corner of his lip. The apple and the tool that he’d used to dissect the fruit were laid on the floor, forgotten for now. The winged man leaned forward towards the bed, a dirt stained hand reaching to grasp Lor’s thin one beneath the bed covering as pale blue eyes studied her face intently.

“Hey. Yes you did give us a reason to worry indeed, Sweetheart” He echoed the vampire’s statement, continuing quickly after in hopes of gaining the first response from the Elf. The plan was in motion and it needed to a guide to develop smoothly.

“You were mumbling some strange things while you were out…do you remember anything? Your name?” He asked hopefully.
At this moment the irritated falcon rushed from its perch to the one it clung to normally, Vi’s shoulder. With a bit of adjusting the bird landed on the worn-leather guard with silence, adding its own set of dark eyes to stare down at the prone woman. No chance of her hiding that she was conscious now.

“Just say your name Sweetheart....we need to know you’re alright. Running off in the rain and all.”
One of his ebony tinted wings twitched behind him, releasing the last bit of mist from the mentioned wet weather from the tattered feathers. The fire that crackled in the fireplace in the room glinted its shed light off of the droplets, the sparkles resulting in a bit of a halo around the supposed ‘Angel.’ If Lor did open her eyes, this illusion would be exaggerated just a bit by Vi himself, though this image of his person surrounded by a faint golden glow would only been seen by the Elven woman.
Such made his features hard to make out, his rather shady persona and gloomy wings hidden behind the facade of holiness. To his knowledge, most beings seemed to have such an idea of those sent from ‘above’ and found comfort in their presence. He could only hope…he was a little rusty when it came to the beliefs of the Elvish kind.
He needed to manufacture trust from one woman to secure it from the other. And fast.

As she wiped the blood from the blade Kaylin could not help but keep the smile on her face. She knew that this was going to be easy but this man had put up no fight whatsoever, leaving Kaylin with an empty victory. She looked down at the man's corpse and let out a curse before turning and stepping over the body of the man's guard as she walked out the door.

She knew that once word got out of this assassination that her name would be once again on everyone's lips and the bounty that was on her head would increase to more money than most people would see in their entire life times. That put another smile on her face as she knew that she would just have to go to her friend and have her image changed once more. She hated having to do it again so soon but it was just the part of the job that she had.

She pulled the hood down on her cloak as she moved to the window and jumped out into the cold night air onto the roof top just a few feet away. She knew that any second now that she would hear the commotion when somebody found the body of the dead noble and just as she leaned down to pick up her pack from the rooftop it rang out. She pulled the cloak up over her head, thanking her master for the gift as guards flew to the window and looked around, several of them straight at her.

She watched them as they tried to find her but knew that there would be no chance of that, that they would have to tear this place apart just to have a chance of finding her and there was no way that they would do that.

Once they were gone Kaylin stood up and walked casually to the end of the rooftop then looked down at the cart that still sat there. With a smile she jumped into the air and closed her eyes seconds before she landed in the soft hay. As she rolled out the back of the cart she pulled the hay out of her hair and gave a silent curse to whoever had invented it.

Two hours later she knocked on a very familiar door which opened up slowly. The man peered out and when he saw Kaylin a knowing smile came upon his face.
"I see you are in trouble again my dear. I know what you are here for so let us not take our time shall we."

She walked slowly into the building and was once again amazed but what she saw on the inside of the building to what was on the outside of the building. She knew better than to ask how this was done as the last time she had asked anything like that of the mage she had gotten an answer of, "Do not ask."

She never had after that.

The man stopped before they got to the stairs and looked back at Kaylin, "Oh. Before I forget my dear. There is a letter on the table for you."

Kaylin wanted to ask what it was but she already knew. There was only one type of letter that would come here. She walked to the table, opened it and read it. Just as it burst into flames she got another smile on her face, "This one will be interesting."

The air against Lor's face caused by the bird's wings was simply too much, and with a sharp inhale her eyes darted open, dark brown orbs moving to capture the feathery figure sitting above her. The woman's vision swam, the headache throbbing a bit harder against the forefront of her skull with the addition of firelight. She snapped her eyes closed and a low groan made its way from her throat.

Once she no longer felt like throwing up, Lor reopened her eyes slowly this time. Another glance up at the bird was enough to reassure her it wasn't some kind of soul-devouring monster, which ebbed a bit of the creepy-crawly feeling... although, considering the behavior of the two strangers bordering either side of the bed, the woman with a kind, smiling face and the man seeming to put up an awfully convincing display of concern, the situation was sufficiently odd.

Before she had really begun to completely comprehend Wraith's words, the winged man uttered the word sweetheart. At first she didn't react, but by the time she finally realized that her hand was behind held by the stranger, wide eyes flew to settle on his face, where instead she found the slightly-glowing outline of something humanoid. She gasped, then immediately regretted doing so. It's just fever, it's just fever...

While Lor spent several moments going through the events of her adventure, of people she had met and talked to and had run-ins with, not one inkling of a memory surfaced with either of these two individuals. Considering that both the man and woman were quite distinctive, she felt fairly safe coming to the conclusion that it wasn't some sort of anamnesis problem.

Should she just spurt out that she is without coin, thanks-for-the-help-goodbye? Nope, still much too weak to be thrown out. Had she at some point met these two and... simply wasn't remembering them? What if the angel was trying to warn her against something? Considering the room and the care they had given her, their intentions at least seemed honorable. The bird changing perches to the man's shoulder finally broke her mental concentration of coming up with something viable, and with a start she jerked her hand away.

“I... I know my name. It's Mari.” Lor timidly brought the edge of the sheet higher to her neck and finally allowed her gaze to drop. One hand went to rest on her stomach as it twisted uncomfortably. Better see if the pair actually did know who she was, rather than giving herself away right off the bat.

Draganchroi wrote:

Aryulin smiled again.

My story is long, and I'm sure it would hold no interest for a man like you, but if you insist." he took a swig of the beer and cleared his throat.

"My name is Aryulin, I was born 1200 years ago, among the Warsong clan of the Ashnari Drakynmer, though i suppose your people would call me a Dragon Elf. I was raised to be an... agent of sorts, and thus i was trained in all facets of personal combat, whether unarmed, in melee, or at range. I was taught to fight on the battlefield as a dragoon or in the barroom as a brawler, such was the range of the necessary knowledge. I came of age and was blooded in the usual way, and was soon set to adventures across the world." He said, taking another sip,

"But I'm sure there is not much to fascinate one so used to tales of adventure as yourself."

"Ah, feh!" Kile said with a teasing smirk, leaning back again in his seat. "You must be a supurb fighter, cause if that was a 'story'. I wouldn't pay ya for a warm beer. Surely you can do better than that!"

He waved his hand, encompassing the room behind him.
"From time to time, some of the boys get a bit rowdy, pick fights and I have a pit match to let em whack it outa each other, but I hardly think that they'd be quite up to par with what you'd want to match with. Besides that, I'd prefer that the boys not start fights in my establishment. New furniture is a bit hard to come by oth here, y'know?"

Wraith had never actually said that she knew Lor. She had just come upon somebody in need of help, and because of her charitable nature (something she had worked hard to get back) had decided to help the poor woman.

She walked over to the bedside, opposite Vi, whom she didn't recall ever having said his name, placed a gentle hand softly onto Lor's forehead. She didn't acknowledge Mari's name at all, preferring to check up on her patient, as it were.

Her eyes, while she make a few precursory checks with heart rate, body temperature and the like, raked over the woman with an efficiency that would've once caught even her off guard. But as she looked the elven woman over, she saw, and scented, that at least the female was going on the mend. Already, she seemed recovered enough to at least stay awake and have something to eat.

Speaking of which.

Without acknowledging Vi either, she leaned over and took the broth into her hands and sat on the edge of the bed. "You need to eat, dear. Here, its not cold but its not hot either. At least take a few sips to make your stomach feel better," she proffered a deep spoon laden with slightly steaming liquid.

Only then did she slide her eyes over to Vi and his hands holding Lor's. Without quite knowing how she knew, but she sensed that there was some falseity here. Whether it was from Vi or from Lor was something that remained to be seen. She kept silent on her observations though.

She was no stranger to secrets that needed to be kept.

Arylin smiled, "There are a great many adventures i could share, but you may think differently of me were I to do so." He said, swigging his beer.
"Have you heard of the Sanguine King?"

"Sanguine King?" Kile thougt, racking his brain for a moment. The name sounded familiar, but no real details came to mind.

" Fragments, bits and pieces." he said at last. "Some sort of necromancer lord or some such nasty business I think. Probably a good one to make the villan of a story.."

Aryulin smiled, "An understatement of monumental proportions, the last, no greater villain has trod these lands. No mere necromancer was he, a daemon lord of terrible power in truth, summoning beasts and minions dire and fell. Terrible war was waged against him, by mighty warriors of many races."

This wasn’t the first situation Vi had tried tip in his favor, and by Wraith’s reaction he figured it wouldn’t be his last.

As soon as the Elf had removed her hand from his he knew the gig was up….or was it? She still gave a name, and that he could use. Every bit of it was cataloged away. This ruse needn’t fail because of a simple brash act, no…he intended on using the pale woman’s kindness to the best of his ability, his falsity a many-layered thing. Plan A may be over, but he felt no shame in moving to Plan B.

Standing caused lines of age and strain to mark his dusty features, and he opted to sit in the backward facing chair once more. The falcon on his shoulder voiced a small bit of protest at his sudden movement, dark wings and sharp talons making the need adjustments to stay perched.

The mysterious woman seemed to have things handled as far as the ill Lor was concerned. A look of relief came over him, and he didn’t even try to hide it. Let them perceive that his relief came from his ‘friends’ arrival to the conscious world, instead of just taking the strain off his injury. Suited him just fine.

“Mari and I couldn’t thank you enough for your kind help, giving us a room to stay and even food…” He spoke up, deciding to wait out the next few interactions between the two females. He made sure to note aloud just what Wriath had done for Lor’s listening pleasure. Watching and waiting was what the game called for now, and he’d yet to decide on his next move. Much of it depended on the Elven woman and her willingness to ‘play.’