[Open] ~The Wayward Soul.~

[Yvonne]

The demon approached the three of them and their debacle, and as his footfalls trod closer a feeling within Yvonne intensified. A feeling of unease. Some men had an intimidating manner and they wielded it like a spiked flail, sweeping it about the room wherever they turned, but… the demon’s manner didn’t coincide with her memories of intimidating drow. No, the haidian didn’t give her the impression of exerting a magical influence over her but the growing fear in her chest felt unnatural.

“Nosdyn, Nosdyn, Nosdyn…” Yvonne spoke through clenched teeth. “How predictable, a demon resorting ta threats. I don’t take kindly ta threats.”

It didn’t belong. That panicked feeling creeping into her consciousness like a slippery, stifling ooze needed to go. She wouldn’t allow it to dirty her mind like a sickly, unwelcome disease. The half-dwarf stood right up to the haidian demon and stared up into his serene golden eyes. Such a mismatch, his body language didn’t reflect the fear she felt. Was she even afraid because of him? No. She wasn’t afraid at all, or so she forced herself to believe.

“Theft be a serious crime of which yer accusing me friend, so I hope ye have a flawless grasp on Stonevale’s laws. False accusations bring their own punishment,” the ill-tempered hybrid warned. Yvonne spared a glance to see where the flighty puck had bounced off to, and her sense of concern heightened, seeing Henry struggling with the feeling of panic this demon radiated. Fenn looked just as frightened and stuffed his gob with honey-smothered blackberries to console himself. A sly smirk fought with her discontented frown. She had to deal with Nosdyn. He had to be the source.

“Ye overlook a significant detail of tha Scara Braen Bill of Rights. Tha same imposed ta return wealth ta tha citizenry from tha scourge of pirates. Might I remind ye that golems, much like pirates, not be deemed people, and therefore cannot apply for citizenship. Ye don’t somehow happen ta hold a scroll of citizenship do ye, Bright-Spark? Of course not,” she said dismissively.

“Without citizenship one cannot lay claim ta land or material goods. Spark cannot stake a claim on a satchel, or anything of tha sort inside it. In Scara Brae, in this realm, Golems themselves be property of their creators, bound as it says ta another person far, far away,” Yvonne stated. “A construct be designed for one purpose; ta serve tha living. This one be wandering far from its master’s influence and finds itself here, thus becoming property of whichever citizen lays claim ta it first. Ta protect it from tha pirates, we do that ye see. Me friend claimed tha satchel it be carrying and therefore tha contents - this cat - be his property now.”

The drow-dwarf hybrid looked to the robotic unit with sympathy and placed a comforting hand on its metallic shoulder. Unfortunately she didn’t make the laws here, but those were the rules. The golem had come to this realm and would need to abide by those rules, unless it preferred the consequences of breaking them. She felt a bit saddened that it had declined her offer of ownership, in order to protect it from the grabby hands of Stonevale’s needy citizens. Hopefully it wouldn’t be disassembled or reverse-engineered for valuable parts, or melted and smelted down by the local blacksmith and recreated as a sword with an awareness.

“Snatch tha satchel back from him and ye become tha thief, according ta law. That be what ye want?” the black-skinned hybrid questioned. She glanced around and when she couldn’t find what she looked for, began to walk out of the restaurant. “Where be that city guard? I’ll speak ta their commanding officer about this! He’ll not hear tha end of it and he’ll come down here and set things right!”