Guns and Ammunition

[Closed to Ayaka, Lilthis, and Yvonne.]

“Stop there, traitor!” the young dark elves called, chasing after Phyr Sa’resh.

Not likely, Phyr thought as he puffed up the cobblestone hill. You’ll have to catch me, and hold me, before this old elf will slow down. His experienced azure eyes darted along the roadway, searching for anything he might turn to his advantage. He ducked into a narrow alley between two intricate Akashiman redwood buildings, stealing a glance back at the four elves.

They were all fit and formidable, specimens chosen for their military’s espionage division. They underwent some of the most frightening training in all of Althanas, and came out as well disciplined ghosts. Sa’resh knew enough to fear them.

I mustn’t let them get the sunderbuss plans, he thought, tearing the folded sheaf of parchment out of a hidden inner cloak pocket. If they do, they’ll not only have a significant military advancement, but they’ll have no immediate reason to keep me alive. He tossed the plans on the ground and pinned them beneath a boot, scrabbling in his pocket for a book of matches with his lone left arm.

“He went this way!” A voice hollered around the corner. Phyr had to stay himself from grabbing the flintlock cutlass strapped to his belt. His agile old fingers cupped the matchbook against his body and struck a flame on the first try. He allowed the fire to catch on several other matches, and then tossed the ball of flame down atop the plans. The dried old parchment erupted in seconds, and burned down to nothing as the youthful Aleraran spies swept around the corner.

“I have to wonder,” said the leader of the foursome, an elf of fifty at best. He approached the one-armed drow. “Out of all the places in Corone, why would you come to a little village like Kugoshima to hide from us?”

“It seemed like the last place you would expect,” Phyr said, and then swept his hand forward. His splayed palm pointed at each of them in turn, firing balls of shadow with the speed and precision of arrows. Three of the four balls struck their targets, and the shadows adhered to the elves, climbing up their lightweight cloaks to stick around their eyes, effectively blindfolding them.

“What have you done to them?” The leader had been the quickest. He pulled a caplock pistol from a hidden hip holster and leveled the barrel at Phyr’s head. “What magic is this?”

“Dark magic,” Phyr bluffed, “and if you kill me, it will last forever.”

“Get it off me!” One of the spies growled, tearing at his forehead.

The younger elf hesitated, and Phyr seized the moment with all his might. He pulled the shadows filling the alley into an opaque wall between them, turned, and ran. The blinders across the other elves’ eyes would only last about thirty seconds longer, and he had no intention of sticking around to fight those odds. The leader’s voice chased him down the alley, but no footsteps followed. Phyr ran down darkened laneways and around twisting corners until he felt he had gained a decent distance, and then slowed his pace. His chest heaved and his hand shook, but he powered onward determinedly.

He had not expected to get away so easily, but a little magic went a long way when fighting those set against understanding it. He knew he would not get so lucky a second time. Eventually they would realize that there was little bite to his shadow magic, and then they would bring their heavy firearms to bear in vengeance.

Phyr wound his way through the side-streets of Kugoshima with the sun's rays striking him at odd intervals. Sweat soaked his collar from the heat and the adrenaline more than exertion. He rounded a corner and froze. Shadows slithered up to obscure his form as he pressed his body flat against the wall of a tavern.

Across the street, two of the spies stood together. They had split up to search for him. They were peering in the front window of some sort of alchemy shop, judging by Phyr’s loose translation of the sign. The gunsmith crept into the bar backwards, ensuring they didn’t catch a glimpse of him.

I’ll hide in here until they search that alchemist’s shop, and then sneak over there to hide until they’re gone. And then I’ll find a way off this bloody island and go somewhere they’ll never find me.

“Priestess...is it a- oh..”

Words had fallen on deaf, fuzzy ears. As a rather haughty woman took another swig from a large bottle of Sake. Ayaka wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then licked her lips with a dart of her tongue.

“What? If ya gonna fuckin’ complain. Do it now.” Came the annoyed response.

The nekojin winced at her reply. His own much furrier and scraggly ears swivelling down flat against his wispy white hair. Always with the snappy responses… “We’ve barely made it out the temple. It may not reflect well on you if the others see the high priestess drinking so early in the m-”

“FUCK them.” Ayaka retorted. “They didn’t spend all fuckin’ night cooped up with a buncha dead bodies praying to a fuckin’ handful of beads to alleviate superstitions. They get to sweep the floor and sell good luck charms to tourists and call themselves a shrine maiden. They can suck one of my fuckin’ bouncin’ tits if its a big issue.”

The old man coughed to clear his throat as he sped up to match Ayaka’s increased pace. She was always like this after the three nights of prayer. He had to admit, it was a difficult task, especially for someone who couldn’t simply pull the souls out of the dead bodies and have them move on that way. How someone so crass and bold became high priestess escaped him. It was like she waltzed up one day to the temple said ‘I’m in charge now’ and boom, bam, thank you ma'am she had the position. With all her flaws...Ayaka was a good high priestess perhaps the most effective Kugoshima had seen in a long time. Her bitterness stemmed from sleep deprivation, and a bristly personality. He couldn’t blame her.

“I don’t think anyone wishes to ‘suck one of your bouncing tits.’ Miss Ayaka.”

Ayaka halted in her steed abruptly and the old man teetered as he tried to avoid knocking into her. She swivelled around on one heel and glared at him wordlessly. The fuck did he just say? Rude. “Tch. You can leave me now Kajima. You don’t have to escort me any further than the temple gates. Your job is done.”

Kajima’s yellowed eyes shifted to the big red gate behind her. Two tall pillars stood either side of the road and met in a large straight archway above it. Some say that the gates were built so large so the Thaynes themselves could freely walk beneath it. They also say one should never, ever walk the middle of the path, for that was where the Thaynes walked. Even he and Ayaka had been walking to the left hand side.

The sharp, constant clicks of Ayakas fingers snapped Kajima’s attention back to her. Her eyes looked tired, not entirely noticible with her darker skin but he had been her attended for years. He noticed the subtle changes.

“Are you sure?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Kojima sighed. There was no reasoning with the woman. “No. As you wish.” He gave her a low sweeping bow and turned on his feet, back up the hill toward the temple. Ayaka was in a bad mood today. He thanked the stars and the sun that he was not the unlucky one that had to deal with her.


’CLACK, CLACK, CLACK’

The loud footsteps of wooden shoes hit the cobblestone pavement as Ayaka headed toward her small Alchemist store. She had already pulled all the herbs she needed from her garden and had hung them up on the rafters before the cleansing ceremony. It had been a few days so by now they’d be ready for grinding and adding to the store stock.

“Worst part is, I ain’t gonna get any fuckin’ sleep. Gotta go do my second job.” Ayaka snorted at the thought. The last thing she wanted to do was deal with a bunch of half sick, half witted people comin’ into her shop asking for help. Fuck it. Money is money. She’d charge anyone who came into the store today an extra 10% just because.

As she neared her storefront she noticed a few guards. No. These weren’t Akashiman soldiers, they held none of the elegance of a warrior. At least not an Akashiman one. Dressed all in thick robes and dark garb. Loitering about her storefront as they shoved their dirty pig noses against the glass pane.

“Oi! Fuckers. The FUCk do you think yer doing?”

One of them straightened and turned to her then. Oh hoo boy. The dirty blue eyed bastard had the audacity. The sheer fucking audacity to look down on her. On HER!

“We are the -”

“I am the owner of that there shop window you messing up with your grubby hands. Not open yet. Fuck off for an hour and come back later.”

The other two had joined him with hands on their weapons. Ayaka raised an eyebrow as she took another swig from the near empty bottle of Sake and shifted her weight to one side. “What?” She crossed her arms over one another.

“Don’t get your dicks all in a twist. Ya’ll in a sleepy town. Yer threatening the High Priestess of that there town. Yer snooping around her, MY shop. Now. I don’t give two shits who the fuck you are. Tell me in as few words as possible what the fuck you are doing.”

The tallest of the three took a step forward, his hand still on his blade. Ayaka’s ears swivelled forward as she heard the click of metal, he wanted to? Oh. Oh fuck no. Ayaka hissed as she took a step forward and threw the Sake bottle at the guys head.
The bottle was made of a thick glass and didn’t shatter on impact. But by the swear and sudden outcry of the dark skinned Drow. It had hurt.

The other two also drew their blades. Ayaka was not a fighter. She did not want to deal with this shit. She was tired. She wasn’t drunk enough, and she damn well wasn’t paid to be some warrior. “He came onto ME!” She snapped. The second came at her but before he had the chance to strike Ayaka did one better. Her hand whipped out and grabbed his balls. Hard. He quickly fell to the floor and whimpered.

The third of the strange men stopped in his tracks.

“Now. Kitty’s got claws. Fuckin’ try anything and those claws will pop your balls. Why. Are. You. Here.”

Another figure came out from round the side of her shop, emerging from an ally. The sudden tension in the air dropped as did the men. To one knee...ahh this man was their leader. His gaze swept across the scene with a disapproving stare.

“Miss, may I ask why one of my men is bleeding from the head, and the other has his…-ahem- encased in your grip.”

Ayaka snorted as she squeezed for good measure. The unlucky drow in her grasp yelped. “Suspicious men around my store drew their weapons on me. Look at what the fuck I’m wearing.”

The leader’s eyes gazed over her outfit. Long flowing red pants, a loose fitting white top. Red ribbons adorning her wrists and tail. He lowered his head in respect. “Ah. A high priestess. I apologize. My men are looking for a dangerous magic user in the area. They may have thought he entered your store to hide.”

Ayaka scoffed as she finally let go of the mans gonads. She picked up the discarded Sake bottle before standing. “Unless he can walk through walls he ain’t in there. But, if you got coin - and I see him I’ll shout real loud for ya all to come running. Deal?”

The drow narrowed his gaze and signalled for the others to get up and join him at his side. With a sharp snap of his fingers they lowered their heads toward Ayaka. Good. About time they showed her some damn respect.

“A reward will be given if he is found. We will be stationed throughout the town and promise not to cause a scene, Miss high priestess.”

They left, in quite the hurry. Good. Ayaka didn’t want to deal with them anymore. In a huff she turned to her store, unlocked it and headed toward the bench toward the back of the store. Pulling the hanging herbs that had dried from the rafters down as she went. “Fuck me…” She muttered. “Today is not my day.”

The halfbreed Nekojin pulled a stool up to the counter and sat down. She gave herself several minutes of silence to digest just what happened. Her heart beat hard and fast in her chest. She was not cut out for this sort of thing. Fighting. Magic.The whole lot of it. Their souls were old, and refined. They were strong, disciplined and foes she should not have messed with. Thank fuck the old guy came out and diffused the situation.

Ayaka pulled a second bottle of Sake, followed by a small ceramic glass out from behind the counter and poured herself another drink. She stared down at the clear liquid and swirled it in her hand.

“The fuck is wrong with suckin’ a bouncing tit…” She muttered under her breath as she pushed her short fringe up with an annoyed sigh. “Too many ass men these days. Fuckin’ stinkers. Literally. The lot of them.” She threw back the glass and slammed it down on the table.

She stared out her window. The guardsmen were still roaming the streets. It was early morning on the weekend so not many civilians were out. Most businesses didn’t open until midday. It was a time of relaxing and sleeping in, spending time with your loved ones and family. Course… Ayaka didn’t have that.

She did have a sister...but she was busy bouncing around with another alchemist. Ayaka still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She bit her tongue to avoid travelling down that route. How was it fair that Eteri, dumb, happy-go-lucky Eteri

“Fuck today.”

She looked the halfling over as they paced down the street. Deep Raiaera was their goal and Lilly had not considered they’d be unwelcome in those lands. She was too excited about the reward at the end of their expedition. Plus, traveling with a group of powerful mages makes you forget that Raiaera is typically a dangerous place. It took the pragmatism of the shorter elf to bring her lofty expectations back into orbit.

“Do you really think we must dye our skin?”

This was roughly the sixteenth time the pure blood had asked this very question. She already knew the answer, she just wanted to remind Yvonne of her dissatisfaction. Lilly had reasoned that being killed was not a foregone conclusion, sullying her onyx skin was a grave sin if the risk of death was only minor. However, if Yvonne decided they had to dye their skin she would let the dwarf-drow go first. It was only fair.

The pair found themselves wandering the streets of Akashima in search of a disguise. Lilly had never been here before, Yvonne had suggested the detour. The tinkering elf couldn’t remember the reason that the shorter elf had suggested this town. There was certainly a reason but the taller elf was not paying attention earlier. Too distracted with thoughts of fallen meteors.

Just ahead the pair could make out an alchemy shop. Inspiration struck Lilly as she quickly shouted, “look Yvonne, an alchemist shop! Maybe we could find a potion or ailment that could work better than dying our flesh!” This could be her ticket out of tainting her lovely black skin!

Wait, was an alchemy shop the reason Yvonne had suggested coming to this out of the way village? No, that would be something one would remember. Genius had simply struck in the heat of the moment. The half elf must be proud to be traveling with someone so resourceful!

Impressed with herself, Lilly skipped ahead towards the alchemy shop which was situated just across from a desolate tavern. Not many visited taverns in the early morning, any patrons were likely those who had drunk themselves into silliness the night before. The dark elf paid no mind to the tavern, focusing her attention on the shop. There was a large storefront window which Lilthis approached rapidly. Pressing her face to the glass, she used two hands to block out the sun’s glare as she tried to get a good look inside the shop. While the drow was well educated she knew next to nothing about the wonders of alchemy.

As her eyes scanned the inside of the store she had to wipe sections of the window, they had become smudged from the previous onlookers. Amid a variety of plants, wrappings, and strange jars the inventor finally caught sight of the owner. Sitting there with a bottle of some sort of liquor Lilly noticed her. Immediately her face filled with happiness as she reached out to place a hand on Yvonne’s shoulder.

“Do you see that? She has the ears of a cat!” Lilly had never before seen a nekojin, but she absolutely loved cats. There had been several farm cats on her family’s estate but she was never allowed a house cat. It was the one thing her parents had denied her. She still held a grudge.

Suppressing her excitement to a degree the inventive young woman asked, “can we go into this store?” Wanting to make herself more clear Lilly followed up with, “the alchemist looks so friendly! I’m sure she’d be willing to help us.” With a grin going ear to ear she seeked her companion’s approval, “what do you think Yvonne? I mean, really, we must stop in here. That woman has cat ears!”

Her mind was abuzz with considerations. Did the shop keep have a tail too? Would she let Lilthis rub under her chin? Would the alchemist purr!? Today felt like a great day.

Yvonne nodded determinedly and resisted the urge to lash out over Lillian’s continuously nagging question. Her mouth flat-lined with neutrality on the subject. The hybrid’s idea of dyeing their skin wasn’t going over well with her pure-blooded companion, but it was Lilly’s crackpot scheme to cross the Raiaeran border and delve deep into enemy territory. If they didn’t take measures to fit in, among the old elves and hill dwarves across the sea, their little jaunt into a realm they didn’t belong would end in… shall we say, unpleasantness.

Together they walked the streets of a peaceful town near Ninyama, on a slope of the Shirayama mountains. The Alerian mongrel had come to Akashima before at the behest of one Vixen Crowsfoot, an enigmatic woman she preferred to consider a friend. Whether the consideration was returned unto her was dubious at best. Vixen and Yvonne’s relationship had been business-oriented and the albino was a wonderful anomaly to say the least.

The half-and-halfling tried to admire the many-tiered pagoda towering in the distance, though wary of the rising sun and the hindering effect it would have on her sensitive eyes. She couldn’t help but take in that which she could - the simple and exquisite design of paper-walled houses, wooden beams and supporting pillars which held aloft decorative triangular rooftops. The mountainous landscape, the Akashiman architecture nestled upon ledges and ridges and the trees interspersed between the buildings filled her with reverence.

Yvonne’s admiration was interrupted by an overeager Lillian Svalesin, shouting about alchemy and how a potion might substitute for the half-dwarf’s own ideas. Before she could grab her companion Lilly had dashed over to the storefront, brimming with scientifically minded curiosity. It was just like the pure-blood to go running off with a head full of questions and to drag the little woman along behind by her conscience.

Her Alerian companion had her face smushed against the alchemy shop window, to have a not-so-sneaky look inside. The mixed breed caught up with her friend and was about to prise her away from the window by a tuft of her long white hair - Lilly hated when she did that but those strands were within easy reach - however the taller elf turned and held Yvonne’s shoulder before she could. She would have to make do with her voice.

“Lilly, listen ta me. Deep breaths dear, in, out,” advised the voice of reason, who made gestures following upward inhalation and downward exhalation. “We won’t be going inside until ye take it down a notch. Ye need ta understand that nekojin be people, not pets, and should be treated with respect. I don’t want ta hear any impolite comments about claws, ears or tails, understand?” Yvonne placed her hands on her hips and looked up at Lilly squarely. She hadn’t put her foot down with Lilly before, so perhaps the first-time impact would help her comprehend the gravity of the situation.

“They can be prickly about their features, much as I can get cranky about me lack of height,” she explained, eventually sighing. This was already exhausting, standing outside the store in the bright, burning heat. The cave-dweller certainly favoured being indoors but this was important to her. Yvonne believed every creature should be held in high esteem, no matter how unusual. At least until their personality prompted otherwise.

“Try ta be nice,” she finalized and made an effort to smile. Her willpower was waning while she endured the sunlight on her back. She couldn’t act the mother figure more than she already had, and Lilly would be Lilly. Hopefully Yvonne could address the impending mess after the fact, as she had done in the past.

Yvonne took the lead and quietly knocked at the alchemist’s door, to alert the owner of their presence. It was early morning after all, not a time for loud noise. The hybrid remembered the social concepts she had learned during her first visit to Akashima, and drew upon them easily, as though she had understood them all along. Her time with Vixen was not so long ago.

With the attention of the nekojin upon her the diminutive drow bowed in the doorway, before stepping inside at all. She held her angled posture for many seconds, meeting the alchemist’s gaze as soon as she righted herself again. It wouldn’t do to peer inside and look over another person’s belongings, no. This shop belonged to the nekojin lady seated at the counter, whom drank a clear liquid Yvonne failed to recognize, for all her alcoholic expertise. It was respectful to seek permission to enter the sacred place of another in Akashima.

“Hello there,” the little one began. “Apologies for tha early hour. May we come in?”

Phyr turned as he entered the sawdusty confines of the disheveled tavern. He moved between the tables and chairs in a purposeful zig-zag, keeping his left shoulder angled forward so the barkeep might not notice his missing arm.

There was no barkeep, and no patrons either. For a moment Phyr considered curling up in a ball in the corner and drawing the shadows there around him to hide away. The shadows called to him like sirens, offering their security and protection. He shook his head forcefully and expelled air through his long, crooked nose. The old dark elf had spent years on the run, and had built up a bundle of useful instincts along the way.

An aching sensation in his gut told him to keep moving; this was not the place to settle and hide.

He approached the bar, which bore a number of tankards, some still half full, others tipped on their sides. A voice came out of the kitchen, barging through the door behind the counter.

“Gingitsu’s great waxed whiskers!” A man swore. “I can’t get this Thaynes-damned sink to drain! Ma, pass me the other wrench - no, the big one.”

“Breathe easy now, Pa.” A woman’s voice replied. “We don’t want you to have another of your stammering spells.”

Phyr rubbed his thumb and forefinger together rapidly. He could still choose to hide in one of the corners or under a table and hope for the best. But his instincts told him to make himself useful, to make an ally. One never knew when a friend or two might come in handy, even if they were an old married couple.

“Excuse me,” the silver-haired elf called, his tone firm but polite. “I don’t mean to bother, but I couldn’t help but overhear.”

There was a bustling commotion from the kitchen, and then the door banged open and the elderly nekojin couple poured out. The male had white tufts of fur on his ears and wore thick half-moon crystal spectacles. Phyr had owned a similar pair, when he lived in Underwood and spent his days poring over deputy reports. The catman picked up a cloth from the back counter and wiped a little grease from his hands, and then dusted off his leather vest.

“Hullo,” he said with a quick bow, which his wife emulated. She was still in sleepwear, a flowery shift stretching down to her ankles and a matching bonnet containing her grey ears. They both had amber eyes, but the man’s were hard while his wife’s softened immediately.

“Hullo indeed!” She exclaimed. “It’s rare we see a new face around here, especially this early in the day. Most of our customers are old friends who come ‘round for drinks after their dinner.”

“Don’t talk the poor elf’s ears off, Ma,” the man complained, “offer the poor fellow a drink, that’s why he came in here!”

“I did come for a drink,” Phyr lied with a nod, “but, I seem to have overheard that you’re having problems with a sink. My apologies for eavesdropping.”

“What of it?” The husband asked, crossing his arms and scratching at the pale fur on his neck. “Think you can fix it when I can’t, huh? Just like an Alerian.”

“I’m sure your skills rival my own,” Phyr fibbed again with a delicate nod, “but I do possess certain advantages. I know a little magic.”

“Magic?” They repeated together. The man lifted a bushy eyebrow, and his wife’s mouth opened wide. "I thought I saw a glimmer beneath the layers." She said, and her husband nodded.

“A little.” Phyr smiled, uncertain what they meant by layers. He picked up a steel tankard from the counter and concentrated on it. The lip of the cup softened and then bent outward like the petals of a flower, before reforming back as straight as it had ever been. “I can move metal with my mind,” he explained. “Not enough for any great purposes… but enough to make unclogging a drain a simple task.”

They looked at one another. Ma had an excited smile on her face, while Pa looked as though someone had offered him a lifetime of free labor.

“All I ask in return,” Phyr said, “is your friendship, and perhaps a cup of your best whisky.”

Ayaka groaned as she leaned back on the stool to better assess the intruders, sorry, customers that dared walk into her store. A pair of drow? One appeared to be a dwarf and the other an elf. Well. That's weird. "Oi!" Ayaka spat in their general direction, "Can't you read? I don't open for another hour." She pointed to a sign clearly written in Akashiman knowing full well the two tourists weren't bilingual, or at least didn't speak her native tongue. They had already messed up her window. She didn't want them messing up her store to boot.

Pointed orange eyes darted to said window. A smudge was smeared high on the pane, it mocked her, almost smiled at her. It wasn't very noticeable, at least not to the passer-by. But Ayaka noticed. She damn well noticed. Her angry eyes shifted back to the taller of the two. She was hiding something. That much was obvious in the way her soul was so withdrawn. It practically curled in on itself. A soft mixture of pale blues and greys that swirled and danced together.

"Mmm..." It was a disapproving sound. Not that her soul was inherently bad, no, that title was upheld by Nevin and his shit storm of a monstrous soul. It just..bothered Ayaka. Which, quite frankly, wasn't hard to do. Everything bothered her. It was the intrusion of her (not so) private drinking time that bothered her.

The shortest one had an odd yet thick accent. At least she had the decency to ask, unlike the other who was practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet-and who had already left an impression on Ayaka and her store. "Well - can't exactly ask to come in when yer already here now can you?" Ayaka mumbled as she gestured for the two to approach. She may be annoyed and her words may be barbed but these were potential coins in her emptying purse.

Ayaka had hit the bottle a little too hard recently. With due reason of course. But those thoughts were for another time.

"What do ya need? Poison? Aphrodesiacs? How can I help, or...whatever?" Ayaka leaned forward once more and picked up the glass. She was really hoping to get a nap in before the day started. Three nights of prayer, with narry a moment to sleep between. Sure, she caught some shuteye during 'meditation' or as she called it. Naptime. But it wasn't enough. Ayaka was irritable and bitter at the best of times. Lack of food, alcohol and rest made the buxom Nekojin one you would not want to run into.

She was not the picture of Akashiman hospitality.

"What brings a pair o' youngins like you to this sleepy little town? Kugoshima doesn't really have anything for tourists."

Yvonne’s words were straight and to the point. The smaller elf always spoke true and was far more street wise than Lilly was. It was one of the reasons why the taller elf liked having the half-dwarf around. For all of her genius Lilthis would often overlook things that would be obvious to most others. Of course the nekojin were an intelligent species. This one before them was an alchemist, operating her own business. She was certainly more intelligent than a mere house cat.

Right. Yvonne’s right. This is a person. I need to contain myself. I can tell she’s serious about it, at least she didn’t pull my hair this time. But still, look at those cute ears. Maybe if we tip really well the shop owner will offer to let us scratch behind her furry ears! Or perhaps a belly rub. Cat’s love belly rubs. No, wait, this is an individual. With thoughts and feelings and adorable kitten ears. I wish I had kitten ears.

As the dark skinned duo moved into the alchemy shop they were accosted with scorn from the proprietor. This feline was the exact opposite of Lilly’s expectations. Upon initially seeing the alchemist she pictured a purring shop owner, an assortment of kind words, and a beckoning of the pair to feed her fish and help brush her tail. Instead, the owner was desperately trying to get drunk. They also seemed to be a wee bit annoyed.

Were she still Lilthis Shadefell she would’ve walked in commanding respect. An heiress of the Shadefell estate, her name alone could’ve inspired fear and loyalty. Lillian Svalesin on the other hand was heiress to the throne of nowhere. Lillian had to earn respect. She had to navigate society through merit, not birth. That was a hard lesson for the awkward girl.

“We’re uh, traveling and,” she began. Normally in situations like this she’d allow her shorter companion to steer the conversation. Yvie had even stated as such when the pure blood gave up far too much information to the drunkard a few nights back. He seemed like such a nice drunk though.

Regaining focus she pressed on, “we need a good way to disguise ourselves. We aren’t tourists, we um, are seeking something in deep Raiaera and I don’t think they like dark elves as much as some peoples do.”

The onyx skinned young woman was starting to sweat. Her frame of reference for dealing with shopkeepers was rather limited and the interaction had completely flipped from how she imagined it going. She thought that by now the kitten lady would have wanted to play with a ball of yarn and offered to not sleep until the pair had an adequate illusion in place.

This was no time to dwell on disappointment though. Lilly gathered her thoughts, brushed some dust off her gauntlet, and spoke once more, “thanks for having us into your shop, it’s very nice in here.”

What?? Why did you say that? That was supposed to be your redemption. You didn’t even pay her a good compliment, just some generic meaningless words! Should I say something nice about her ears? Maybe just shut up now and let Yvonne handle it. Hopefully she doesn’t ask about dyes. I don’t want to dye my skin.

We can still leave with nary a fuss, puss, Yvonne thought to herself. She’d not even come in the door before the verbal barrage of spat words scathed her sensitive elven ears. She turned her attention to the sign for the first time, a message of appropriate business hours written in the flowing language of Akashima vaguely scrawled upon it. Only numbers could be deciphered with her limited understanding, and even those numerals may not have been as she supposed. Despite the acid-tongue the feline had beckoned them in.

The off-the-cuff mention of aphrodisiacs stimulated thoughts of Henry, a happy-go-lucky minstrel with a magnetic personality and a handsome figure. She liked to think of him as her boyfriend, however he preferred to take their relationship slowly which left Yvonne feeling considerably sexually deprived. They’d not had a tumble in the sack thus far. She wondered what he would do with her, under the influence of a love potion. How could he resist her advances if his nether regions had been stimulated?

Yvonne quietly coughed into a wee fist, a subtle blush colouring her black cheeks. It would hopefully go unseen as her enigmatic eyes surveyed the room.

Within, a disparate and motley assortment of alchemical ingredients filled shelves. Many components were contained in glass bottles - some glowed, some didn’t - and ceramic jars held others, labeled with the same curling language to indicate contents. Books lined shelves behind the counter - probably not for sale, but the fact the alchemist enjoyed reading brought a smile to her black lips. They had something in common, if nothing else.

The scents of so many sources fought for the notice of her nostrils, but alcohol seemed the only smell identifiable without difficulty. A haze of confusion muddled the hybrid’s senses and she wrinkled her nose without conscious thought, wiggling it left and right discerningly. The potion shop evidently smelled and hiding that fact was challenging.

While Lilly nervously attempted conversation Yvonne studied the alchemist. Her tone and choice of words conveyed little besides frustration - a seething vexation - and the emotion gave the deep dwarf pause. Obviously this morning hadn’t unfolded how she had planned it and, with their early ingress into her shop before the hour of opening, the situation deteriorated further.

To Yvonne’s delight and surprise she made another a discovery. The nekojin caught in her silver eyed scrutiny proved to be more than a pure-blood. Appealing feline ears perked up from a bob of honey blonde hair, much like a nekojin. A tail flicked dangerously back and forth, to and fro below the stool she lounged upon, much like a nekojin. Orange irises brightened her eyes, darkened with equal parts shadow and liner and sleeplessness. Orange was common among Akashiman cats, but…

She had descended from both human and nekojin parents, Yvonne felt certain. They had stepped into the shop of another mixed breed. Perhaps there lay the explanation for the irritable attitude they’d received on the way in. Humans were short-lived creatures often in a hurry, with a scarcity of patience and quick tempers. This is how the drow-dwarf justified the cat lady’s demeanour to begin with. She would have to have patience for the both of them.

“What me companion be trying ta say be about border crossing. We be planning ta stick our noses where they don’t belong and we can’t do that looking like… us. We need ta blend in with Raiaerans,” Yvonne explained.

Risky business, telling tha truth at times. We don’t know this half-breed nekojin from a hole in tha wall, but if me time spent as an apothecary taught me anything, we be a lot like barbers. Customers tell us all of their dark and dirty secrets, especially when she sells aphrodisiacs all tha time. We keep silent, because they pay good coin and we want them ta come back. I’d say that beating around tha bush or lying through our teeth will only serve ta piss her off more than she already be. Out with it and on with it.

“Tha more convincing tha disguise be, tha less chance anyone will know we be there. We want ta be in and out without anybody getting hurt. We not be looking ta cause trouble,” the black-skinned hybrid stated honestly. “If ye won’t help us, I understand. We will think of something else.”

The elderly nekojin couple didn’t just give Phyr a cup of whisky; they were kind enough to refill the flask he carried in his cloak as well. Bathed in humid warmth and the aroma of cabbage ste, the old dark elf went to work. He swirled the whisky around the bottom of his glass as he puttered around, reaching out with his mind to sense the metals available. He found a length of stiff iron wire in the back of a busily arranged oaken cabinet as he took a sip.

The whisky was a fine Coronian rye with an initial barky bite but a smooth finish. Phyr swished it around his mouth as the iron wire slithered sinuously off the shelf and settled around his shoulders like a friendly snake.

The catfolk watched in apparent awe as Phyr crossed the closely swept cedar floor and bent over the clogged sink. The wire flowed off of his shoulders and down the drain, weaving around obstacles it encountered and corkscrewing until it reached the bend in the pipe. It then retracted itself, pulling out a long ball of grimy hair and food particles.

“Out the back with that, if you please!” Ma exclaimed, throwing her paws up at the dripping mess. Phyr bowed his head and levitated the wet wire down a short hallway to the rear entrance, which was barred with an iron deadbolt. He had to concentrate a little harder, but he managed to mentally unlatch and open the door while keeping the wire afloat. He stepped outside and set the wire down gently, and then darted back in and shouldered the door almost-shut as he heard voices.

The smooth Aleraran accent belonging to the spies’ leader was unmistakable.

“Search that fucking tavern, and then we’ll move on. I’ve got a feeling he ran, he’s been running since he escaped from Devil’s Keep. No reason he’d stop and hole up now. But check it just the same.” They were circling around to the front of the tavern, as Phyr had done.

The dark elf shouldered the door shut and leaned against it, sucking a deep breath as cold sweat sprang up on his scalp.

“Phyr-san?” Pa called down the hall. He had only provided them his first name. “Is all well?”

“I’m afraid not,” the one armed drow said. He stepped back into the kitchen and set his empty glass on the scarred counter. His azure eyes took in the elderly couple, who glanced at one another, seeming to sense his seriousness.

“I have not been entirely truthful with you,” Phyr confessed, casting his gaze down at the clean floor - Ma had already mopped. “I came in here not for a drink, but to hide. There are elves in this town who seek to do me grave harm. I have done nothing to deserve their pursuit; they wish to profit from my inventions. I’m afraid they are about to come in the front door - and they will ask after me. What you say - and what you do - is up to you.”

They exchanged another glance.

“We sensed you had a secret,” Pa said, his tone gravelly. “But I never suspected it would be something so dire.” He screwed up his nose and sighed, and Ma took his paw in hers. He nodded. “Get you upstairs and hide, then. We won’t be the type to give up a friend in need, even a newly forged one.”

The offer sent a wave of relief through Phyr’s racing mind. They would not turn on him.

“I could never accept such a risk on your part,” the dark elf shook his head. “But I thank you. Tell them only that I was here, that I left some ten minutes ago, and that I said I was headed for the mountains. I will make my escape through the alley out back.” He clasped each of their hands with his lone left, somewhat awkwardly, but sincerely.

He heard the spies calling from the common room, asking for ale, behaving like boisterous tourists. He gave the Akashiman couple a short bow and then turned and fled.

He did not flee far, or fast. Instead he sneaked around the front of the tavern, finding the square there once again deserted. He crossed the street, heading away from the mountains, toward the coast. If he could catch a ship, he could -

The front door of the tavern creaked open part way, and the spy leader’s voice poured out. He was talking with the old couple. They held his attention. He was pretending to be a tourist, looking for his lost one-armed friend.

Phyr knew he had less than a moment before the spies poured back into the street. He was not positioned to hide behind any of the buildings, and there were no convenient shadows to expand and blend into. With no other options, he opened the door to the alchemist’s shop and darted inside.

The smell of alcohol struck his long nose, as strong as an operating room in an Alerian hospital. Three feminine faces swiveled around to look at him, making the quaint shop feel almost crowded. Phyr smiled and bowed, moving away from the windows. The grey dwarf and the Alerian elf both looked a little caught off guard, but curious about his entrance. The young woman who appeared to be a hybrid of nekojin and human simply looked at him with loathing.

“Ladies,” Phyr said as pleasantly possible, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder. “If I am interrupting, I must beg your forgiveness.” Without knowing whether or not the spies had spoken with any of them, he decided to wait and see how they responded before continuing.

Ayaka poured herself another glass of sake before slamming the glass down and wiping her mouth with the back of a perfectly manicured, clawed hand. "Right." She pushed herself off the stool and sauntered over to the two girls. Caramel tail swishing languidly to and fro behind her. Despite being a heavy drinker and having spent the last three days praying to deities she frankly couldn't give two shits about she carried herself exceptionally well. She walked with a straight back full of pride and confidence, the sway of her body told of a woman who was confident in her sexuality (despite lack of).

"Now - how can I *ahem* help you?" She repeated.

The taller girl seemed intimidated, or at the very least struggled with Tradespeak - Ayaka couldn't fault her for that, the barbaric tongue was fuckin' hard. Gross. Her words were vague at best.

"Sweetheart," Ayaka began with a condescending tone. "I ain't a costume shop. Frankly, if those racist pricks gon' give you hell I can give you a poison. Which would you prefer? Have them bleed from the inside out or have their skin melt off?"

Oh..

She didn't take that too well. She mumbled and looked rather startled. What? Ayaka wasn't threatening them. She was threatening the people who were being racist. The very people they were about to go and do some dangerous shit with. If anything Ayaka should be praised for her solution. The smaller of the woman stepped in, and clarified what they wanted.


Oh! The short one was a decent conversationalist, looks like they'd get somewhere after all. And here Ayaka thought she'd have to break into interpretive dance to get through to the timid tall one. "Ya know- its a good thing I know Tradespeak, few round here do, 'sides the tavern owners and a few shrine maidens. Aren't you just the luckiest fuckin' girls in the world?"

"I'm not going to turn down payin' custo-" She batted the wandering hand of the taller elf woman away. Oh yes, Ayaka saw it. Long, slender fingers dancing and twitching as they edged ever closer to her.

Before she could continue the conversation with the odd couple they were interrupted by yet another who had entered her store. Before. Fucking. Opening. Time. Her shoulders rose and fell as she drew in a deep breath, a pitiful attempt at anger management.

"What the fuck is this?" Ayaka mumbled to herself, quite rightly interrupted. "Is there an Aleran convention nearby? Ya'll dropping in from the circus?" Her yellowed eyes narrowed as they stared at the newcomer. He wore a plain black Jacket, probably poor as balls. He was more or less unassuming, typical of his race he had long silver hair. His skin glimmered softly in the reflection of the early morning sun. A gentle azure, much like his eyes. Ah - but Ayaka could give zero shits about any of that. "Just stay lurkin' in the shadows there old man." His soul was like a fuckin' onion. Old, layered. "I'll deal with you next."

Ugh.

Stupid beings with their multi-century lifespans.

Ayaka turned back to the two woman, the actual customers. "Right..." She grinned as she slapped her hands together. "What do you two lovely young lasses wanna look like? Grow a pair, loose a pair? Blonde, Brunette, maybe ya wanna get a dick and go for a swing around town after your shady business?"

Talk of poisoning someone generated a rush of momentum in the tall elf’s heart. She wasn’t intending to kill any time soon, although if the porcelain haired woman had any inclination towards murder she reasoned that poison would likely be her weapon of choice. File that idea away for later. The more timid of the pair was relieved once the stout halfling clarified what Lilly had attempted to communicate to the nekojin alchemist, bringing an end to discussions of boiling skin.

However, the conversation proved to be an excellent time to survey the alchemy shop’s various wares. Vials, ingredients wrapped in paper, and lots of signage that the educated dark elf could not read. Bored of these sights, her gaze sidestepped and abruptly stumbled into the cat woman’s sashaying tail. It was perfect, just like a real cat! Before she knew it her pale blue pupils sprinted towards sunny orange ears.

Basking in the sheer overload of cute, the tinkerer’s cat-like curiosity sprang forward. Sure, Yvonne would be embarrassed, and she may get them kicked out judging by this shop owner’s temper, but the intrusive drow had to know if the fur on Ayaka’s ears felt as soft as it looked. Nervously she extended fluttering fingers towards the potion mixer only to have them swatted away mid-flight. So close, she reluctantly thought.

Bracing herself for an outburst the meddling elf cowered into herself, only to be saved by a door flung ajar. Dashing from the light of day the trio beheld a one-armed drow that appeared to be much older than Lilly. He was likely alarmed to see three sets of eyes staring back at him. This meager alchemy store was beginning to get rather cramped.

Akashima is a circus of a place. Angry catpeople operating businesses and one armed men stomping into them.

Between the shelves of vegetation and a variety of liquids the pure blooded female could vaguely make out this new arrival. He was a bit scraggly, seemed relaxed, and judging by his dress was likely a low-born member of Alerarian society. That was good. The lower caste was extremely unlikely to recognize Lillian as being a member of House Shadefell. So long as dark elves of high birth were not present the young inventor would be able to stay calm.

Ayaka hurled vitriol at the amputee before twirling back around. The shock on Lilly’s face was blaring as the foul mouthed kitten offered to let the girls test drive a new gender. She had no qualms with others doing such a thing but the midnight skinned elf was opposed to staining her skin color, she certainly had no interest in altering her genitalia.

“No! I don’t want to... grow a thing... down there... no thank you,” she timidly proclaimed.

This catlady was unlike anyone she had ever met. Her gruff demeanor was terrifying to the shy elf but as soon as the inventor was ready to run away she’d catch a peek at a fluffy tail or furry ears and her heart would melt. No matter what happened here today, Ayaka would have her ears scratched.

Regaining courage the drow stated, “Do you um, know of a way that wouldn’t involve changing my hair. Or skin. Or uhh... sexual organs.”

A masculine presence hurried through the door behind them, a soft creak alerting Yvonne to his entry. She looked over her shoulder at him and quietly gasped - another dark elf? What an odd coincidence, so many Alerians bumping into each other, though to be fair this was a potion shop. This would be the place to look, if one was searching for dark elves in Akashima. The alchemy, the science; it called to them and they had come.

The words from his mouth - while more than polite - struck Yvonne as unusual, not quite right. The half-and-halfling liked to think the art of communication her forte. Most customers that arrive after others currently being served don’t gratuitously beg forgiveness. They simply wait in line or patiently browse through the wares on offer. She raised an arching eyebrow, gave the one-armed Alerian a look that silently asked what ye be up to? She didn’t say too much to him though - her expression conveyed everything.

“That be quite alright. We won’t be long,” the littlest one said, turning around again to the half-breed nekojin, the crossbow strapped to her back blocking much of the view of her.

Yvonne seriously considered the potion-brewer’s offers of poison. She wasn’t above taking an angle of skulduggery or their deadly use. One needed to do what needed to be done. Poison was an incredibly effective tool in certain situations, particularly those which didn’t involve the poisoner hanging around. Apply to the target, or better - the target’s food or drink and flee immediately to avoid any consequences.

Unfortunately the duo would need more time than poison allowed. People under poison’s effects didn’t often go quietly into that sweet and sombre abyss. They choked, they gagged, spilled their bodily fluids all over the place and made a hell of a scene. In these cases, either a trail of coughed up blood or great swathes of skin peels would litter the area, and neither of those would be subtle. She imagined they would need to blend in among many, stay long enough to extract Lilly’s meteorite and escape again. Yvonne would look to alternatives before murdering old elves and other dwarves over a rock. It just wasn’t worth their lives.

The cat lady grinned for the first time since they’d come in and the sudden change in expression made the diminutive drow feel uneasy. Her instincts had been dead-on - the alchemist’s suggestion of a sex change potion had amused her, broken her ire momentarily. Yvonne giggled nervously, feeling an uncommon bout of uncertainty and indecision. It wasn’t a half bad idea, was it? When one got right down to thinking about it, it was a better idea than face paint and wigs.

“I’d like ta be taller. Blonde would be a lovely change. A high elf woman perchance? We women have our ways of… friendly persuasion that men can’t hope ta match,” Yvonne requested, explaining her line of thinking. The thought crossed her mind afterward, that she’d asked to look like her complete polar opposite. Her skin would change from black to white, her hair from black to blonde, her bone structure, height and curves and slenderness…

“Mayhap I ask too much of ye dear. I hadn’t thought me request through. Could ye brew a potion capable of such dramatic change?” Yvonne asked. Her curiosity had begun to rise the more she thought it over. Surely the alchemist wouldn’t bring up the subject of potion transfiguration just to see their reactions and get a rise out of them? Well, this one would of course. Yvonne herself might have too, in her position. Reactions were very entertaining after all.

This is going... surprisingly well.

When the three women had looked up at Phyr initially, he'd felt certain he was caught. It seemed unlikely that none of the three of them had been warned of him by the spies. But they ignored him almost entirely and went back about their business. The catgirl and the dwarfgirl got to chatting about womanly things. I want to change my this, I want to grow my that, I want to shrink my those. Phyr had heard it all from his wife and her friends back on Alerar, before his arrest. Before the secret military trial and sentencing. Before the trip to hell and back that cost him an arm.

The dark elf wandered stealthily to the back of the shop, wondering if he was two times as old as all the young ladies combined, or three times their total age. He had the odds favoring three times. He would have liked to look at them - any of them, particularly the tall elf with the hair like pouring milk. But he had learned over the last few years that was inappropriate now. No young lady wanted his ancient azure eyes roving her bodice and bottom, and that was the simple truth of it. Elena had been different... but Elena was gone.

Phyr examined a rounded jar filled with strangely bladed yellow leaves. He did not think he had ever seen their type before. A part of him wished he had his spectacles so he could examine them closely. The rest of him remained vigilant and alert, keeping the corner of his eye on the front door and windows lest the spies come in. Phyr skulked toward the shadowiest corner, away from all the others and remained there. If his pursuers did come in, he could pull the shadows around himself and hide long enough to... to...

He did not know. He would be trapped. He slipped the flask from his cloak and took a long, semi-covert draft. As he returned the flask to his pocket he looked around, wondering if any of the ladies had seen, and wondering if any of them had spoken with the spies. If they had, he would have to be quick, and earn his silver-tongued reputation in order to save his sorry old hide.