Can you catch the rain...

[Reine]

((closed Thread Warning: Contains Explicit Sexual Material!))


“I hear Reine had some trouble the other night.”

Faelynn looked up from her glass of wine, narrowing her eyes at Adjal. She was still pissed about the whole situation. She’d liked Eric; he had seemed like a decent man, until he’d thrown her into a table. Not that he’d known it was her. Still, she’d take no chances. The next morning she left The Desert Rose and found a new Inn to stay at. The risk of him figuring it out was too high if they spent more time together. If all went well, she’d never see the man again and he would never bump into Reine.

“I suppose you could say that...”

Adjal smirked and leaned back in her chair, drinking down her glass of wine. The two of them were in the back room of the Madasthala. Keeping out of sight, Faelynn had not been able to see the other woman until now to collect her payment. Apparently, this worked out perfectly for Adjal as she’d refused to pay her until she knew the object was safely attached to the kite. Today was the day of the tournament. On her way in here Faelynn had seen the majestic pieces of artwork floating up in the sky, sailing and dancing like some form of macabre bird. She didn’t pretend to understand what the tournament entailed and what that small bead did and in truth she didn’t really care. Curiosity could kill a person and she had no plans on dying young.

“Still, as long as she’s unharmed it doesn’t matter. And the replacement was a success we—”

Fae cut her off. “I don’t want to know, Adjal. You know how Reine and I operate. No information beyond the bare necessities to get the job done.”

The other woman smirked and nodded, her coal black eyes playing something mischievous that Fae didn’t at all like. “By the by, I hear a certain man named Eric Anglekos is looking for the thief called Reine.”

She stiffened but quickly tried to hide it by finishing off her glass of wine. “That’s probably the man who interfered.” Her voice sounded strained even to her ears. He should have just left well enough alone. She couldn’t even begin to imagine why he’d felt the need to interfere in her job. He was no city guard, just a wandering adventurer. Maybe he wanted the bounty on her head. It had apparently gone up after this incident. Adding assault to the growing list of thefts could do that.

“When last I saw her, she did not seem worried.” Faelynn replied.

“Want me to take care of him?” Adjal ask, leaning forward and biting down on her bottom lip. The look on her face suggested she’d more than enjoy ‘taking care’ of Eric. Fae smirked as she looked over at the other woman.

----------------------------------

When she left the Madasthala the night sky had been reduced to a gleaming pink and orange, the sun so far down on the horizon she could no longer see it over the tops of the buildings. The streets were still filled with people going about their daily lives, oblivious to the turmoil going on inside the head of one Faelynn ‘Reine’ Thiadore. Leaving Irrakam seemed like her best option right now, but it was a big city, maybe she’d never run into Eric again. After all, he could search all he wanted to, but he never would find the woman Reine. At least she’d gotten her money from Adjal though.

With a sigh, Faelynn ran her fingers through her hair and turned towards the city of Irrakam. A few drinks sounded good right about now. The act of walking brought back that night even more to her mind though. Every step she took caused pain to radiate across her thigh. The wound Eric had given her was more of an annoyance than anything. No serious damage had been done, but it was in such a location that every time her leg shifted, it pulled at it. It took a lot of concentration just to walk without limping. The whole thing just pissed her off the more she thought about it.

As she left The Outlander’s Quarters a cold wind blew in from across the river Attireyi, sending a trail of goose pimples up her arms and across her bare shoulders. Her long purple and green skirt danced about her feet, allowing the cool air to travel up her legs, making her shiver. The night was setting in and the desert nation of Fallien was growing cold. Wrapping a deep purple shawl across her shoulders, Faelynn continued on towards The Oasis. Aptly named such due to the luscious green gardens it hosted, as well as the beautiful fountains and ponds filled with exotic fish not native to Fallien.

[Lord Anglekos]

Eric's thumb met cold metal as he snapped and flipped the coin he'd been examining all evening into the air. With a deft movement he caught it at the peak of it's liftoff and held it in front of his hooded visage, the light from the tavern's lanterns reflecting off the silver surface. It hadn't been the first time he'd done this ever since he'd awoken to find the coin by his side after the thief had stolen both his dagger and his dignity, and it wouldn't be the last on his account.

It'd been around two days since his encounter with the thief that he now knew to be called "Reine", and ever since he'd been searching for clues and traces of her, trying to catch her. Normally, he wasn't so determined about these sort of things; he didn't like thieves in general, but he stayed out of their business. He was no hero, and didn't pretend to be. But this thief had made it his business by taking something that belonged to him, especially something of importance; the prevalida dagger "Styxx" he'd gained by fighting side-by-side with the draconian Eros in Dheathain. He hadn't used the weapon often, nor it's twin ("Acheron", which he still possessed), but the sentimental meaning behind that azure blade was undeniable.

During his searching he'd grown far colder and angrier than before; he'd come to Fallien in the first place only to relax and enjoy the sights and people before he went off to fight in the war down in Raieara. However, it seemed that even here trouble seemed to find him, and here he was, chasing a ghost of a woman when he should be enjoying the kite tournament or drinking rich mead while surveying the rich sights. Fallien may have been a desert region, but it was populated with enough exotic occupants and hand crafts to put the most beautiful mountain range to shame. And this, Eric noted, was just Irrakam; he'd yet to see the rest of the land.

It was this that had fueled his anger the most, these past two days, and had driven him to seek out the thief and exact his revenge. A vacation was all he wanted, and whatever god that was watching above had not saw fit to grant him at the very least a bit of peace. Hadn't he fought enough? Hadn't he shed enough blood during both his time as a soldier and during his travels around Althanas to earn a break from it all? Apparently, he thought to himself bitterly as held the coin once again up to the tavern's light, not nearly enough.

Loud laughter more akin to the braying of a donkey interrupted the swordsman's thoughts, and he directed his gaze over to a group of men sitting not ten feet away from his table in the corner. One man pounded another smaller, almost rattish looking one on the back heartily, wiping tears of amusement from his face, and Eric irritably returned to gazing at the coin under the light. He didn't like being here, in the company of such crude ruffians; even under the shadow of his cloak he felt like an outsider, a stranger amongst a gathering of old friends. Yet all his questioning and clues had led him back here to the seedy darkness of the Madasthala, a tavern of questionable reputation in the Outlander's Quarters. He'd stayed here while he'd been in the process of obtaining an exit pass from the authorities, but once he had done so he had left the tavern with as much speed as his feet could carry him. But here he was, back under the barely-lit ceiling and surrounded by the stench of sweat. He sighed inwardly; he should have known his searching would take him here. Everything had seemed to take a wrong turn for him under the skies of Fallien.

There hadn't been much information on his mysterious thief; all he had seemed to gain the first day he'd awoken after being knocked unconscious was a headache and the fact that she was a hired thief. This had amused him a little; a mercenary burglar? That was new. However, once he'd swallowed his inherent fear of those who wandered under the dark anonyminity of the night he'd managed to literally pound more info out of a thief that had foolishly attacked him. Eric had held a sword to the other man's throat and told him to spill all the information he could on her to him or he would finish him at that very moment. The bluff had worked; there was no way the swordsman would have done so in reality, for he was no vicious murderer. But the expression upon Eric's face and the blade pricking his skin had convinced his attacker otherwise, and soon enough these words spilled from his mouth:

"The-the-the Cult! The Cult of Mitra! I heard she w-w-works for them sometimes, but that's all I know! I swear!"

No ounce of poking and prodding would produce any further information out of the thief and instead had only reduced him to a blubbering mess, so Eric had been forced to believe him. After learning what he could of this "Cult of the Sun", he'd headed back to the Madasthala with his cloak adorned and wearing his armor underneath, armed with naught but his sword and remaining dagger. After his encounter with Reine, he took little chances, making sure his silencing armguards and greaves were strapped correctly in place. Had it not been for his purchasing them beforehand, his life may have been forfeit long ago.

So he sat here in the corner of the tavern, watching it's occupants with blue eyes glaring coldy out from the shadow of his hood. More importantly, he was watching the door with the image of the sun engraved upon it. Eric was not unintelligent; he could figure out that through that door lay his next lead and, most likely, a member of the Cult of the Sun itself. But it did not hurt to make sure, and more importantly, make sure he was prepared for what lay ahead.

But he'd been sitting here for over an hour, and had entered the tavern well into the night, so he figured he had waited long enough. It was now or never. He touched the strands of hair wrapped around the hilt of the sword at his side. Give me strength, Amalia. He prayed to his fallen lover before standing and advancing to the door, his cloak wrapped protectively around him to prevent the prying of the curious eyes that followed. He opened the door, and stepped quickly through it, shutting it behind him.

The room which he stood within now was reflective of the tavern beyond it's door; it was dirty and dusty, with various substances and paperwork spread here and there until it was apparent that chaos reined with absolute authority. It wasn't large either, and Eric thought that with all the objects spread around that it could be a claustraphobic's worst nightmare. There was a desk sitting at the back of the small room, and behind that desk was a woman wearing an outfit that did little to conceal her feminine attributes. Dark hair framed a strong face and similar eyes, and he got the same sense of "femme fatale" from her that he had when he'd first met his companion Eros.

He was not distracted by either her looks or her aura, however; he'd come with a purpose. Before she could speak he walked forward and sat into the chair on the other side of the desk, and pulled his hood back to expose his own face. He'd not shaved in a bit, and stubble decorated his jawline and chin like a brittle reminder of his search. Focusing his eyes upon hers, he spoke firmly. "My name is Eric Anglekos, and I'm searching for the thief known as Reine. I was told you and your...organization may have clues as to her whereabouts."

The woman raised one dark eyebrow at him and smirked a little before leaning back and placing her feet on the desk with an audible thump. "Well well well..." She spoke, and unsurprisingly her voice was thick and throaty, filled with sexual undertones. Eric managed to keep his eyes upon her face, but the temptation to let them drift was stronger now, and he swallowed. "...so you're this Eric Anglekos. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, had we met under some other circumstances." Her eyes flicked from his, and even though he was still covered by his cloak he felt as if she were examining his body; her boldness made him blush.

However, that still did not manage to distract him from his suprise. "You've heard of me?" He asked rhetorically.

She began twirling a dagger in between her fingers, and Eric could only wonder just where she had pulled it from; he hadn't even seen her move. "Yes, I've heard of you. Your little search for her has spread your name quite a bit, you see."

He blinked. He hadn't been expecting to hear that. "I suddenly feel quite popular, then."

"Which isn't necessarily a good thing." She flipped the dagger from one hand to the other ominously. "Reine is an able thief, and our organization has relied upon her from time to time. And if you know anything at all about us, which I assume you do from you prescence here, you would know that we protect our own." Her eyes focused with a predator's intensity upon him. "As of which, I must ask that you abandon your search for her, or I must end it for you." A small smile quirked upon her face. "Which would be a damned shame, as you look quite cute."

He ignored this last comment and instead his hand shifted under his cloak, grasping the hilt of his dagger. "Are you threatening me?" He spat.

"Yes." She nodded and crossed her arms over breasts.

He was impressed; she hadn't tried to cover up her words with bullshit. However... "Then you should know something about myself; I don't let threats get in the way of what I want. If I did, I would get nowhere."

She sighed dramatically and closed her eyes. "Ah, well. It's sad: As I said, you look quite cute." And with a blur from her hand, she sent the dagger flying straight at him.

[Reine]

She didn’t end up in the tavern. The people there annoyed her. The sounds of their merry voices and carefree laughter grated on her nerves and made her grind her teeth together. She just felt like shit right now and she didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t know what to do period. This situation had never happened to her before and the fact that he was searching for her irritated her. Why couldn’t he just drop it? So he’d lost his dagger, that was his own fault, he shouldn’t have attacked her. The bastard had sliced her leg open and caused one hell of a bruise across her back when he slammed her into that table. He was lucky the only thing he’d gotten out of the encounter was a pounding headache and a missing dagger. She could have taken Adjal up on her offer. She could let the woman tear him apart, slowly, enjoying each moment of it and each cry he made, but Faelynn wasn’t like that. She did not run around like a hero protecting life, but she did respect it. And she knew, when Adjal offered something like that, she expected no payment and would greatly enjoy the task at hand.

Frustrated beyond anything, Faelynn let out a small cry and slammed her fist into the wall of her room. Pain exploded across her knuckles and fingers as she felt the rough wood dig into her skin. She didn’t care. Growling, Faelynn pulled her arm back, but when she went to slam it into the wall she stopped, splaying her hand and fingers along the cold wood instead.

God damnit! What am I supposed to do!?

She rested her forehead against the wall, the cool wood soothing her heated skin. She looked over at her wrists and bangles that dangled from them, dwarfing them. Why couldn’t Ferynn be here to help guide her? He’d know what to do. She’d know whether to turn tail and leave or stay or maybe even approach Eric as herself and not Reine and try to talk to him. Oh, she’d contemplated that so many times, but the ferocity with which he’d attacked her made her pause each time. He’d never stop to hear her out; he’d just turn her in like a common criminal.

Turning her body until her back was pressed firmly against the wall, Fae slowly slid down, and drawing her knees up to her chest until her bottom hit the cold floor. Her green eyes which normally seemed so bright with life and energy looked dull now, overrun with worry. They stared out, empty, at the room she had rented, at the modest bed with its colourful blankets and sheets. At the fireplace, dead and void of any fire and the various pieces of furniture, like the desk across the room from her, the nightstand and the table. They stared, but they didn’t really see any of it. Instead they were focused on the memories of what had happened that night, of why Eric had felt the need to attack her.

In the end, what did it matter? He was just a stranger she met and spent some time with. Not even an hour. They had talked, she had flirted and in the end, nothing had happened. Why should she be surprised about his actions?

Resting her cheek on her knees, she looked over at her bangles once more. She remembered the feel of his dagger going into her chest; she remembered that fear racing through her mind, the feeling of helplessness, one she’d experienced so few times in her life. In the past two days she had been so caught up in finding a new Inn and seeing how much information was circulating around Irrakam that she had nearly forgotten about the bangles. She’d attempted to activate them during the fight, but they had done nothing, yet...she had survived a dagger plunging into her heart. How was that possible?

Just what did their enchantment do?

Connaire had screwed up on a number of different enchantments she’d been forced into trying; some of them even exploding on her, but this one didn’t seem broken, just wrong. Had he spoken a word wrong? Made the smallest mistake while carving it into the metal? She didn’t know. Perhaps she should leave Fallien and go home, talk to Connaire about them. She didn’t exactly know how safe they were after all. She’d go to the docks later today or tomorrow to see when the next boat to Corone was leaving. Glancing out the window, Faelynn realized just how dark it was outside. There was no way she’d be finding anything but trouble in the port now. She’d have to wait until tomorrow morning.

Activate you stupid pieces of scrap metal.

The bangles just stayed there on her wrists, as solid as ever. Sighing, Faelynn stopped focusing on them and hugged her legs closer to her body.

[Lord Anglekos]

There was no time to dodge, even though Eric had been prepared to the utmost degree; the woman's throw was just that fast. It was then that he nearly wept in relief that he'd worn his breastplate beforehand, or he would have been a dead man. The dagger cut through his cloak as he moved simultaneously, and the blade deflected off the metal covering his chest underneath, spinning away into the grasp of the room's chaos. Even though it had deflected the blow, the knife had still left a deep groove into the side of the armor, and Eric felt a spear of fear pierce his heart; apparently his opponent could cut into iron-wrought armor with her weapons.

Neither combatants wasted time with words now, and upon seeing the failure of the dagger's throw they both moved simultaneously. Eric's hand burst from the containment of his cloak, clutching the prevalida dagger like a sword, and he threw himself to the side, knocking several objects to the floor in the process. The woman jumped upon the table, holding several daggers identical to the one she'd thrown at his heart in between her fingers like claws. One hand flashed, and again Eric barely saw the blade flying now at his head; he ducked as he rushed her, and there was an audible thunk as the dagger embedded itself into the woodwork behind him.

Jumping forward he slashed at her exposed legs, meaning to sever the tendons in her ankle so he could at least disable her and prevent her from moving around. With a contemptuous laugh the scantily clad woman leaped backwards in a graceful backflip, and the blue blade cut through nothing but air. She landed not on the floor, however, and instead her feet made contact with the wall at her back, and she crouched there for a moment like some gorgeous, overgrown spider before her hand flashed forward once more.

Twin dark blurs launched themselves from her outstretched fingers like ropes, and in order to avoid the strange attack Eric ran forward, underneath their trajectory, and he slashed up at the papery-looking strands in response. The sharp dagger cut through both easily enough, but it had felt like he'd been cutting more through giant silken strands of a spiderweb rather than paper, as he'd guessed beforehand. The unexpected resistance caught him off-balance for a moment, and as he hesitated the woman crouching on the wall saw her chance. She pushed, and launced off from the surface towards him like an arrow, one hand clutching her dagger and ready to cut him open.

She underestimated her opponent, however. Despite his hesitation, he was ready for her attack and with a blue eyed glare ducked underneath it in a flash of black. Simultaneously, his arm not holding his dagger made a fist, and there was an audible moment of impact as he drove that fist into her stomach with an animalistic yell. The dark-haired woman gasped as her momentum combined with his strength and drove the breath momentarily from her, in addition to stopping her launch-off from the wall and sending her crashing against it once again as she backed up from him.

His little brawl with Reine had taught the swordsman not to underestimate his opponent, however, and he dashed forward, spinning the knife around his fingers to hold it in a reverse-grip before holding the woman up against the wall with his other hand. As he pressed the sharp edge of his dagger to her throat, breathing heavily from their exertions and glaring in adrenaline and fury, he struggled to speak. "If you don't...tell me all...you know of...her...I'll kill you here..and now..." He bluffed once again, hoping it would work upon her as it had worked upon the thief he'd used it on.

She spat to the side, and as she regained her breath he found she was far less out of it than he. "You should apply the same warning to...yourself while you're at it." She grinned confidently at him, and suddenly he felt a sharp point digging into his side. Glancing to the side he saw her arm, and the hand upon that arm clutching the hilt of yet another dagger. Where the hell did she pull that from...? He thought alarmingly to himself.

For a while they just stood there, knives pressed against each other's throat and side while their eyes locked, until Eric finally broke the silence. "All I need is information on her. I don't really want to do this." He spoke clearer and easier now, his breathing slower.

She smiled a bit. "That makes one of us. Personally, I haven't had this much fun in a long time." She licked her lips and she shifted under his grip. "I'd be willing to continue, but you don't seem the type to want to."

He ignored her innuendos. "Is she really that vital to your organization that you would die for her?"

"Is your search really that important that you would as well?"

He frowned. "Answer my question, don't give me one of your own."

Her expression became solemn. "That was my answer. Would you give up one of your companions were they in a similar situation, hmm?"

He was stumped at that, and it was evident it showed upon his face as she smiled a bit and nodded, the dagger pressing harder against her neck at the movement. "I thought as much."

He glared at her. "Then it seems we have a stalemate."

"It seems we have."

For a couple more moments neither of them moved once more, before he abruptly released his grip upon her and backed up a couple steps. She chuckled and made a movement with her hand, upon which he tensed, but the weapon in it only disappeared into wherever she pulled it from. He did not do the same, still clutching the prevalida dagger with a ready grip. It was evident she was his superior, at least in combat. "I apologize then for having disturbed you." He spoke stiffly, and drew the hood up on his cloak once more, hiding his features before he opened the door and stepped back into the low lamplight of the Madasthala silently.

Before he could fully do so, however, the woman spoke up behind him, jarring him to a halt. "I hope you know," Her voice was smooth, and even though he did not look at her, he could detect a confident smile in it. "That had it not been for her wish for you not to be killed, this 'stalemate' of ours wouldn't have ended up with you walking away."

He shifted slightly under his cloak. "I see." The news perturbed him, but he tried not to show it as closed the door behind him.

Adjal watched him go with one eyebrow raised before looking around at the upset room around her and sighing irritably. "And I just cleaned everything up, too..." She muttered, before bending over to pick up some papers on the floor.

[Reine]

Sun streamed in through the open curtains. It bathed the walls, the floor and anything that happened to be in its path, including Faelynn. She awoke as the golden light slithered across her eyes, creating a scattering of colours behind her eyelids that forced her from her peaceful dreams. She didn’t want to wake up. She wanted five more minutes... just five more minutes.

Groaning, Faelynn attempted to roll over and get more comfortable in her bed. Unfortunately, she smacked into the floor instead, having fallen asleep curled up against the wall and not her bed at all. Her back and neck felt sore and abused, her legs were all cramped and she was rather sure a nice imprint of her skirt lay across her cheek. Just perfect. The day could only get worse from here on in and she had a feeling it would too. It felt like a stone was sitting deep within her gut, digging into something rather uncomfortably. In her short life, Faelynn had learned to call this her intuition and right now, it wasn’t good.

Lying flat on her back, she stretched herself out and then slowly sat up. The stone feeling was soon replaced with hunger and she went about her morning routine. She quickly washed and dressed in clean clothes, another skirt and another top that left her arms and her shoulders bare. The colours didn’t reflect her mood at all being orange and yellow and enhancing the slight tan spreading across her skin. After that she went downstairs to the tavern for a quick meal of breads, cheeses and some local fruits from the Oasis, the place, not the tavern. A few people she had mingled with before tried to talk with her, but she exchanged only the briefest of conversations, just enough to be polite and so little as to tell them to leave her to her meal. They did. It was rather good, but she found herself eating out of necessity rather than enjoyment, something she rarely did. When she finished she left The Oasis Inn with her bag and spear strapped across her back. It was still early, the perfect time to be heading to the docks. Ships would be coming in and setting sail to all the corners of Althanas and for the right price, she may be able to board one of them.

Outside, she shielded her green eyes from the harsh light of the sun with her hand. They felt sore and tired from not receiving a good night’s rest. Her entire body felt sluggish from the abuse and poor treatment it had received on the floor. It would take time, but she knew she’d eventually wake up.

Taking a deep breath of the fresh, salty air, Faelynn headed towards the docks that lay on the river Attireyi, which thankfully was not very far from her Inn. In fact, it only took her a ten minute walk to find herself standing on the outskirts of the second busiest port she’d ever stepped foot upon; Corone being the first. People of all ethnicities and colours hurried about, moving cargo, shouting at one another and attempting to get their jobs done in some fashion of organized chaos. It amazed her how they moved so fluidly across planks of wood that stooped and swayed beneath the mere weight of their bodies, and yet sailors and merchants alike did so as quickly and with as much grace as she scaled a wall.

Here, she breathed in the deep scent of salt, fish, sweat and things she was better off not to describe. Not the worst of things she’d ever smelt, but certainly not the best either.

Weaving her way through the crowd—one of the advantages of being so short—Faelynn found the Port Master. He appeared to be an older gentleman with grey stubble accentuating a very strong and square jaw, and rather deep, blue eyes. Quite like the ocean. His skin was darkened from the sun, though he obviously wasn’t a native to Fallien. She knew him for the Port Master simple because of his location. All merchants coming to and fro appeared before him, handing papers, giving and collecting money. Beside him stood a black board with the scribbled names of ships and other pertinent information on it, presumably all of the ships currently in his port. She could barely read the writing on it anyway.

“Excuse me, Sir.” She had to speak above the voices of those around her and make herself more noticeable. Surprisingly a little difficult, then again it may be because most of the people here towered above her. One of the disadvantages of being short.

With a grunt the man turned in her direction and then looked down at her. The lines around his eyes softened slightly, but barely enough for most to notice. “What can I help ya with?”

“I’m looking for passage to Corone.”

He frowned, but before he could answer her someone shouted at him. She couldn’t make it out, something in Fallien. “It’s 250 gold coins, not this rubbish currency they have here in Fallien. He can either pay it or dock his ship elsewhere!” The man yelled back. And suddenly she was quite happy to have seen his softer expression.

“Now what is it ya wanted, Corone?” He continued without waiting for her to answer. “’Fraid I can’t help you there.”

“But, I need to get to Corone!”

He sighed, though his patience appeared to be running thin at the moment. “Look missy, I don’t have another ship bound for Corone leaving until tomorrow morning. You’ll have to wait until then.”

Before she could utter another word of protest he turned away and began talking to some haggard looking merchant. Clenching her jaw, she turned away from him and stomped her way out of the port and the crowd. She could wait until tomorrow. Nothing could possibly happen between then and now. What was she going to do in the mean time though? Looking down, her eyes caught the glint of metal and with a sudden thought, Faelynn headed off towards The Merchants Walkway.

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Breezeborne grumbled something fierce under his breath as he hammered away and yet another sword. He spat, custom job. He hated doing these, but they paid well and that meant he could keep a roof over his head and food on his table. Marissa didn’t mind too much, of course all she had to do was mumble a bunch of crap over it and say the darn thing was enchanted. Lucky woman.

Wiping away at the sweat dripping down his forehead, Breezeborne shoved the weapon back into the forge, watching as the red coals within heated the metal until it too became the colour of fire. Pulling it out, he set the piece of Mythril on the anvil and once again the sound of metal pounding against metal rung throughout his shop and his ears. Even if he was making something as boring as this broadsword, he could still loose himself in each and every swing, watching as the metal was shaped under his watchful eye. It was an appreciation only a blacksmith or maybe an artisan could understand. No adventurer would ever know what it was like to craft something; they only knew how to wield it, sometimes far less necessary than his own profession, in his eyes of course.

Looking the metal over, he decided to give it a rest. He thrust the blade into a bucket of cold water. Immediately a loud hissing filled the room as the water boiled over and instantly evaporated under the extreme heat of the metal. Leaving it rest in there, he slipped his soiled gloves off and turned to get himself a drink. A nice glass of ale would be nice right about now, only Marissa didn’t permit him to drink while he worked. Water would have to do. Instead of water though, he found a rather small and lithe looking girl leaning against the wall a mere three feet from him. She was examining a dagger he had been working on yesterday, one that still needed some more work done. How he had missed her he couldn’t say. That was until recognition clicked behind his eyes.

“Faelynn,” he practically growled her name, he hated it when she snuck up on him. Still, he was happy to see the girl though, a great customer and an interesting friend. “What brings you down here?”

“Sadly, I’m not here to purchase anything.” She told him, setting the weapon down on the anvil she’d taken it from. Soot covered her hands from the dirty metal, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Well then, better make this brief. I’m a busy man and don’t have the time fer people who aren’t ta be payin’ me.”

She smirked at his response and he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. She really was a sweet girl, though he knew there was far more to her than she let on. It was not his business to be asking questions though. She paid for his wares and when he offered her something a little more unique, she never asked him where he’d acquired the item or materials.

Still, what he said was true. He had no time to idle talk. When he went to move passed her, her arm shot out in front of him. Immediately his eyes were drawn to the Prevalida Bangle that swayed on her hip. The craftsmanship was superb. The intricate lines upon it appeared to have been painstakingly carved into the surface of the metal, which itself had no blemishes that he could see.

“Quite beautiful, isn’t it? I have a matching one on my other wrist.” Now she’d caught his attention. “They were made for me by my brother and enchanted by a close friend. However, the enchantment doesn’t appear to be working properly. I was wondering if you and Marissa could examine and tell me exactly what they do.”

The slight twitch of his mouth turned into a full blown smile as he looked up at her. “GIRL!

[Lord Anglekos]

Shirtless, Eric gazed at his iron breastplate and kissed the long gash in the side of it with his fingertips, recalling the blade that had almost claimed his life. Had it not been for the very armor he held in his hands, it would have, and that thought struck a chord of both caution and fear within him. He knew there were warriors far stronger than he wandering the lands of Althanas, and metals far stronger than that he currently owned, but he'd never imagined that the realm of difference could be so huge. The gap in between his skills and those of the woman he had fought at the Madasthala was terrifying, and he knew that he'd only managed a stalemate through both luck and, as he'd been informed, by his very own prey's wish.

He threw the armor to the side with frustration and ran his scarred fingers through his messy brown hair, standing up from his bed to look out the sunlit window. Rubbing some sleep from his eyes with a yawn, he leaned on the windowsill of his room in The Desert Rose and gazed down upon the crowds below. From his place above they reminded him of the milling of ants, and he chuckled. Stepping away from the window he went back to his bed, laying down and proceeding in staring at the ceiling.

His trip to the Madasthala had proved nigh-fruitless, and he'd very nearly ended up on the blade of a woman's knife. Putting his hands behind his head he thought about what his opponent had said to him. Why would this "Reine" care whether he was slain or not? In fact, if their positions had been reversed and she had been the hunter, he would have requested that she be killed. It only seemed logical; after all, what doe wanted to spare the life of the wolf chasing it? Either she had something wrong with her, he thought to himself, or there was some other factor he was unaware of.

He rolled over on his side as he continued to think it through. Then again, he did not like senseless killing; and seeing as she had not slit his throat upon knocking him unconscious he did not think she did either. It made sense, and would justify her requesting for him not to be killed. Perhaps he was simply overthinking things again. He sighed; then again, perhaps not. He needed more information before he started making decisions.

But it seemed that information here in Fallien came at a fatal price, and as he gazed once more upon the iron-wrought breastplate lying in a patch of sun streaming from the window he knew that price was too high to pay. As those who had such information seemed to try and force that payment from him, he knew he needed protection, and what he did have had almost not lived up to the task.

His eyes drifted to the other pieces of armor he owned, sitting with his clothes and bag, and he knew exactly what to do. He grabbed his shirt and threw it on, strapped the sword and dagger to his sides and donned his cloak before he attached his fingerless delyn armguards and greaves to his arms and legs, making sure they were tight. As he exited the room he left his breastplate behind; he wouldn't need it, not where he was going.


~+~


The Tolgorath was pretty much as he remembered it, last he'd come here a few days ago to pick up the very armor he was wearing now. The beardless dwarf now working the forge in the middle of the room he knew to be Breezeborne, and last he'd been here the dwarf had helped him pick out some suitable armor for the coming days. Eric looked to the side instinctively, almost expecting to see the dwarf's wife Marissa standing there with that bored expression upon her face. She wasn't there, but the feeling was so strong that he was left staring there for a couple moments, as if expecting her to appear. He was interrupted when he heard the dwarf's voice echo at him.

"Hey!" The dwarf barked, and Eric's cowled head snapped to him. "Ya just gonna stand there, or...?" His voice cut off as the swordsman threw back the hood on his cloak. "Oh, it's you. Didn't 'ear ya come in. Obviously that armor's workin' fine, eh?"

"Indeed it is," Eric replied with a chuckle, and held up one arm to show one of the delyn armguards in the light of the forge. "And thanks. They've really come in handy."

The dwarf waved one sooty hand in the air before him. "Business is just business, boy. No need ta' thank meh." He turned back to the sword he was working and began pounding the glowing metal into place. "So what're ya here fer today, eh?"

"Armor, again." Eric responded, gesturing to his body. "Something light but strong, flexible but sturdy." He hesitated a bit, thinking. "And if it could be hidden under my clothing, that would be nice."

The dwarf paused from his work. "Hmm...sounds like yer talkin' bout mythril there. What kinda armor ya lookin' for, hmm? Like a chestpiece, or leggin's, or...?"

"Oh, my upper body." Eric gestured once again.

"Then ah've got the perfect thing fer you already." The dwarf started to walk off, but looked over his shoulder first. "That is, unless, you'll be wantin' it to be enchanted, eh boy?"

Eric shook his head. "No, not this time."

The swordsman followed the dwarf to a rack of armor of all different shapes and sizes and began looking through them while grumbling good-naturedly all the while. Eric had expected as much. A couple minutes later, the dwarf emerged the forest of metal, clutching what looked to be a metallic tee-shirt in his hands. However, as he came closer, Eric saw that it was really chainmail with interwoven links so fine they looked seamless. It seemed to glimmer under the firelight. "Is that...?"

The dwarf nodded. "Aye. This be mythril. Is this whatcha were basically lookin' fer?"

Eric examined the the chainmail armor under the light, filtering it smoothly between his fingers, and nodded. "Yeah, this is about right. Can I try it on?"

"Go ahead."

As Eric took off his shirt and began putting the armor on, he saw the side door open and Breezeborne's wife entered the room, clutching something in her hands. She was dressed in the same outfit he'd seen her in last time; a black dress with silken gloves, and at around 5'5" she stood taller than her husband but shorter than Eric himself. Her hair, as dark as her dress, glowed a metallic sheen in the light coming from the room next to the smithy's. "Hey." She nodded to Eric before addressing the dwarf lazily. "I need your opinion on something, Breezy."

He blushed a little, and as he marched over to her Eric heard him mutter, "I've told you NOT to call me that in front of people, girl..." The swordsman muffled a chuckle with his arm.

As he put on light armor, he was pleasantly surprised at how light it was; he could easily move in this, and the armor even felt strong, tight against the conforms of his body. He examined himself in the mirror before him; yeah, he thought to himself. This would definitely work. He turned around and was about to tell the dwarf so when he saw something that made the words crawl up and die within his mouth.

Marissa had stepped farther into the light, and in her hands she held a pair of metal bangles. Not just any metal bangles, however; Eric would have been able to recognize them even if they were any different color, for they were the same ones that "Reine" had worn. The designs, the shape, everything were the same. His blood stirred in a frustrated mix of anger and confusion, and Eric turned back around and focused on their conversation, pretending to be fiddling with the armor.

He listened in on their conversation just as Marissa was asking the dwarf something. "...figure out the the problem, but I don't know how to alter it without tampering with the essential focus of the spell. When did Faelynn say she was coming back for them?"

"Sometime tonight. What's the problem?"

"Whoever made these made a mistake in the glyphs upon the enchanting, and instead of saying '...unto the bearer's worn', it simply speaks '...unto the bearer'. This is why it directs the effects not upon the metals themselves but the wearer of them."

"Ya know I don't understand 'alf of that mumbo-jumbo, girl, so put it in plain terms. Why can't ya fix it?"

"Because whoever cast the spell managed to seal it as well, and if I were to tamper with the glyph-writing the entire thing could implode and ruin the bangles themselves. My magics don't mix with these." She shook her head irritably. "Honestly, a fool's mistake. So she'll have to go whoever did so in order to fix it."

The dwarf grumbled. "Fae won't be 'appy at that. Isn't there some..."

Eric lost the rest as he tuned out from the conversation; he'd got all the information he needed. Faelynn? As in the very girl who'd somehow managed to nearly seduce him not two days ago? The very fact that she could be, or be somehow connected to, the thief that had stolen his dagger seemed unplausible, and yet here seemed to be cold hard proof that she was. That is, unless, they were discussing a different Faelynn...even though he hadn't heard the name before, that didn't mean...

As Eric turned around the dwarf approached him. "How's that workin' for ya, boy?" Breezeborne asked gruffly.

"Good." Eric stood up straight and looked at the dwarf directly. "I must ask you something; I eavesdropped on your conversation, accidentally, and heard you talking about Faelynn. Would you happen to mean Faelynn Thiadore?"

The dwarf raised one eyebrow. "Aye, I be. Why?"

Eric closed his eyes. So she was involved. Of course; that same god that hadn't saw fit to give the swordsman a peaceful time here in Fallien also seemed to wish to torture him more so. He should have known. "She's an...old friend. I need to talk to her." Well, that wasn't exactly a lie, but he still felt bad about decieving the older dwarf.

Breezeborne chuckled a little. "I see. Ya want me to tell 'er yer looking for 'er?"

"No, it's alright." Eric waved one hand casually, trying to brush the matter away from the dwarf's mind; the last thing he needed was to give his prey another warning. "If she's staying in the city, I can always talk to her later. It's fine."

The blacksmith shrugged. "As you wish. Now, about that armor..."

"I'll take it." Eric pulled his black shirt on over the mythril chainmail and shivered a little at how cold it felt despite the heat from the forge. Then he turned to the dwarf and, with a small wince, asked, "So, how much will this cost me, eh?"

Breezeborne chuckled evilly, and the swordsman groaned.

[Reine]

The sun was beginning to creep low across the horizon in the desert land of Fallien. The sky was glowing pink and orange and bathing everything in colours any artist could only dream about rendering with mere pain and brush. The roofs of the stone buildings mimicked the scene in the sky and Irrakam looked like it burned. At one time, they nation had, during a bloody and hard fought and won civil war. Scars of that war could still be seen, etched deeply into stone and wood alike. They were still rebuilding some areas, while others had just been left to rot and turn into another slum and alleyway for the less fortunate to propagate.

With an eye to the sky, Faelynn moved through the late day crowds. Most of the shops were closing for the night and most of the merchants were going home to their families. A few straggling shoppers quickly jostled about trying to get that last purchase in, that last needed item before retreating to their homes and inns and taverns. She didn’t need to rush, Breezeborne would wait for her. He’d be a little testy if she took too long, but he’d wait. Though he seemed like quite the irritable dwarf—they all seemed that way—he had a good heart hiding within that chest of his.

Approaching the seemingly small shop known as the Tolgorath, Faelynn quietly slipped inside. No one was at the forge this time. The comforting sound of metal being hammered did not reach her ears. When she’d first come to Fallien, she used to spend hours in Breezeborne’s shop just because she’d longed to hear that familiar sound of metal and metal. Eventually they’d become acquaintances, someone she felt she could trust in this foreign land that felt like a second home to her. It was disappointing now to come in and see the forge lying dormant and not watch Breezeborne make his next masterpiece.

Deciding it best to make a little noise, Faelynn closed the door behind her with a bang. It took Breezeborne roughly ten seconds to exit the back room and walk out into the brightly lit front. The sun was shining in through the large window by the forge, making it looked like it was on fire.

“Oh, it’s just you Faelynn.”

She smiled softly, though inside she was anxious to see what Marissa had found out about her cuffs.

“Girl! Faelynn’s back, get yer butt out here!”

Faelynn shook her head, she would never get used to the way these two talked to each other. No matter how many times she visited.

“Run into any old friends while you’ve been here?”

Surprised, Faelynn looked at the older man for a moment or two. Breezeborne rarely asked her personal questions like that. “Um... no, why?” There were people she knew in Fallien, but she wouldn’t classify any of them as old friends.

“Nothing...” He grumbled.

Just then Marissa emerged from the back room, holding Faelynn’s bangles in her hands. That same bored look persisted on her face, though this time it was accentuated by a frown. Fae knew what that meant, the little investigation she had the woman do had not gone so well. She was not going to like this. Ferynn was going to get it for sending her a defective birthday present, correction, early birthday present.

“An idiot enchanted these, Faelynn.” The woman said as she handed them back. They felt as cold as ice. “Whoever did it screwed up on the glyphs in such a way...” She sighed and shook her head. “Well, I know you told me they’re supposed to turn into liquid, well a mistake on the glyph makes the bearer turn into liquid instead.”

Faelynn just blinked at her. “Huh...wha?”

“Whenever you activate them, instead of the metal turning into liquid, you will turn into liquid, or at least part of you. I’m rather sure they should affect your whole body and not just part of it, but you may be able to control that with time. You can keep them as they are, but I can’t fix them. You’ll have to go back to whoever made the darn things. Let me guess, it was that Connaire fellow again?”

Faelynn sighed. Marissa had heard her stories of Connaire’s enchantments, not all of them being good either. Though he had successfully enchanted her Bag of Infinity and her spear Amalia, he had screwed up more than he’d succeeded.

“Yeah, I’m heading back to Corone tomorrow morning anyway, I’ll figure out what I want to with them during the trip there.”

She reached into her bag, ready to pull out a payment for the woman.

“No need.” She placed a firm hand on Fae’s elbow.

“But—”

“I don’t receive money for having done nothing. I couldn’t fix it. Next time you want something enchanted properly you know where to come.”

She smiled, though she felt bad. Connaire wasn’t the best or most adept at enchanting things, but he’d never get better if people like Ferynn and her didn’t help him out.

“Well, I best be going. I have to be up bright and early tomorrow morning. Till I see you guys again.”

With a quick wave, Faelynn turned and left the shop, holding the bangles in her hand. By this time, the sun sat even lower on the horizon and most of the sky had begun to darken. The Merchant’s Walkway was practically deserted.

So they apply their effect onto the bearer instead of themselves...

She ran her fingers across the smooth and carved top of one bangle, then tossed it up into the air. It almost disappeared in the growing darkness, becoming nothing more than a slight glimmer. It reached its apex and then fell, tumbling towards the ground. With a quick motion, her hand shot out and caught the bangle before it even passed the level of her chest.

If they applied their enchantment onto the bearer then... it would make sense. She tried to activate them during her fight with Eric, right when he’d pinned her up against that wall. Except that hadn’t turned into liquid, part of her had turned into liquid. So when his dagger had pierced into her chest, it hadn’t really done anything but pass into a water-like substance. It made sense. After all, she had felt the dagger and yet it had done no damage to her. Perhaps getting Connaire to fix them would be a mistake. Being able to turn into a liquid could have quite the advantage to a thief.

Smiling to herself, Faelynn tossed the bangle into the air once more as she made her way back to The Oasis.

[Lord Anglekos]

He followed far behind her, covered within the anonymity of his cloak and safe within the silence of his steps. He hated what he was doing now; it felt like he was part of the very darkness that he feared, the realm of backstabbers and thieves and shadowy beings that emerged from the corners of children's minds. And he hated how strong it made him feel. There was a kind of tempting power in the knowledge that you held the advantage, however, unfair it may be, and with that advantage you could do what you wished. He began to understand why thieves and cutthroats and rapists did what they did: They were those who had fallen to temptation and succumbed to the darkness that ate away at all men's souls.

Eric was a warrior, a soldier. He lived and fought in the realm of the sun, where your opponent was defined clearly by the sword he held in his hands and the expression upon his face. Even when he'd been but a boy he'd always liked the sun; too much, his step-mother would say, and she would call him a light-freak at times. He spent most of his days of his childhood out and about rather than staying inside, and when he did he made sure that he sat in every patch of sunlight he could find, to the point of moving tables and chairs to be able to.

When the night had indeed come, he'd always made sure there was one point of light within in his room. The shadows it had cast within the dark confines of the walls had been terrifying by themselves, but far less so compared the complete darkness that he felt suffocating him at times. At least with that candle burning, he could reassure himself that no matter how dark it grew there would always be one point of light that it could not snuff away. That little saying had stuck with him even unto his older years, and although he could sleep without a light burning by his side these days the unconscious fear of the dark had always been there.

Becoming what he had always been afraid of was a strange notion to the warrior, but that's what he felt he was doing exactly as he watched Faelynn saunter off. No matter how he put it, he was following her, stalking her. He was the hunter and she the prey, and now that the object of his anger was in sight he could feel his blood pumping in exhilaration. Exhilaration, and fear perhaps; fear that his prey might get away from him once more. Under the cowl of his cloak Eric shook his head; those were not his thoughts, he told himself. He was just losing it a bit. He was just following her, that was it. Then why, he asked himself, did his mouth become dry at the prospect of finally capturing her, of taking her by surprise? Of seeing the look of shock and fear upon her face just before he...before he...

He blinked. What would he do? Had she just been another thief, perhaps, he would not think twice about using violence to get what he wanted. But she was not; this was Faelynn Thiadore, and despite their short time together she'd managed to gain a foothold above the faceless masses in his mind. He could not just kill her, that was not how he lived. Oh well... He sighed to himself and steeled his nerves, drawing himself up as she drew close to a bustling tavern that looked even more taken-care fore than The Desert Rose. Had they been out under the sun, he thought to himself, the walls could have sparkled from their cleanliness. A sign protruding from the side told him that this was The Oasis, and his mouth quirked up at the name of the establishment. Not the most original of names, he thought to himself, but it was certainly appropriate to the region it lay within.

He followed her inside, taking extreme care that he was not noticed by her and keeping his dark form amongst the bustling of the crowd within, still trying to remain mysteriously anonymous. It seemed to work, as he found Faelynn focusing her charismatic smile upon the man behind the bar. Straining his ears to hear them, he caught her in the middle of a sentance. "...give me another key to my room? I seem to have lost the original."

"Sorry miss, but that's beyond my authority to..." The man behind the encounter, a rather thin looking man with a shock of blonde hair, drifted off as his eyes were drawn to a small glimmer of cleavage Fae revealed as she leaned forward. Upon her face was the best pout that Eric had ever seen in his life.

"Aww, but I've looked everywhere for it..." She sighed sadly. "...and I just can't seem to remember where I put it. You can't help a girl out?"

The man cleared his throat, his eyes darting back up to her face, and he stammered a bit. "W-what did you say your room number was?"

She smiled, and once again Eric felt as if the very air around him had suddenly grown far warmer and more comfortable than before, even beneath his cloak. What was it with her smile? Even though he knew that she was the very thief that he had been chasing all this time, he still wanted to help her out. What was the matter with him?! Silently, he berated himself just as she replied. "Twenty two." As the man handed her a key, she gave him a wink and waved at him as her hips swayed temptingly from side to side. "Thanks hon."

Twenty two. Well, at least he didn't need to waste time figuring out her room number anymore. He waited a couple minutes before he too went up the stairs to the rooms, peering around the corridors to make sure they didn't accidentally bump into each other there. When he was sure that she was inside her room, he glided silently down the hall, counting the numbers under his breath until he finally came to the one marked correctly. He heard her fumbling around in there, but that didn't matter. His heart's pace had picked up, his breathing grew slightly heavier. A small drop of sweat slid down the side of his face, and he closed his eyes, breathing in. Relax, he told himself. It's time, but don't lose your nerve. Keep breathing. Focus. You've been in far more stressful situations than this. With one hand on the hilt of his sword, he knocked on the door.

"Hello?" He heard her merry voice call out. "Who is it?"

Deepening his voice, trying to obscure his identity, he recalled her reaction when she'd gotten the package back at The Desert Rose. "A delivery for Faelynn Thiadore..."

"Another...?" He heard her wonder aloud in confusion, and as the key turned within the lock he drew his sword slowly. "Who from?" She asked, just upon opening the door.

Without a moment's pause Eric lunged forward and shoved the young woman backwards, making her stumble backwards with a small cry of surprise. Before she could make any other cry of alarm, however, he moved. Shutting the door behind him he pushed her up against the wall and covered her mouth with one hand, pressing the point of his sword against her throat. "From a man with a vendetta against her." He replied in his normal voice, and tossed back his hood with a flick of his head.

Her eyes widened in recognition, and she tried to say something under the cover of his hand, but he hushed her quickly with his next words and the snarl upon his face. "Speak without my permission, and I kill you. Move without being told, and I kill you. I have no qualms about doing so, Miss Thiadore." He smirked a bit, trying to give more character to his bluff, before he focused his glare once more. "Or should I call you 'Reine', perhaps?"

[Reine]

She remembered the fight. She remembered the dagger plunging into her chest, the cold hard feel of it as she thought it ripped through flesh, ending her life. She remembered it and her body stilled. He’d do it, he’d kill her, all because of a simple job he happened to walk in on; or maybe because she took something from her. It was just a dagger, nothing compared to what he had almost taken from her. Her job, her pride as a thief and further beyond that, he had almost taken her life. He had tossed her around like a sack during their fight and she had the bruises to show for it. And he was the one with a vendetta? But then, she remembered the look on his face. The mask of horror and shock that had covered his features, twisting them. She remembered the wide eyes and the pale skin and the sudden sheen of sweat that had broken out over his bow, not from exertion, no, from fear. He would not do it. He voice may say so and his face may bluff at her, but his eyes remained the same. Eric forgot that she made friends with people who didn’t threaten death but actually gave it, people like Adjal, who enjoyed the blood spilling out and covering their bodies and the streets. A warrior he may be, but now, in this moment, Faelynn knew that Eric was no killer. She had thought so immediately after their battle, she didn’t know how she could. His eyes were too kind. There was anger in them, yes, but not the lifeless death she saw in others.

Nice bluff.

Faelynn kept her part of the game going. Her golden, green eyes had gone wide with shock and her body had stilled. She took in small and shallow gasps for air through her nose as his hand roughly pressed her lips back against her teeth. She could taste blood. If only she had her bangles on, but she’d placed them on the table by the bed. She didn’t even dare glance over in that direction, just kept her eyes focused on him. Her memory told her the bed was roughly eight feet from where Eric currently had her pinned against the wall. If she could break free from him she could get there, then get out. She might have to sacrifice Amalia and her Bag of Infinity, but she wouldn’t be going to jail.

His grip on her mouth loosened. Had she satisfied him enough with her acquiescence? Did he really think she was terrified of him?

“Now, I want yo—”

The rest of his words were cut off in a shout of pain. Faelynn dug her teeth into the fleshy palm of Eric’s hand as hard as she could. He instinctively recoiled away from her. She stopped biting and shoved her knee into his gut, forcing him away from her. He stumbled and the sword at her neck fell away just as she leapt away from the wall. Her feet flew across the hard wood of her room as she raced towards the bed. All she needed to do was get the bangles and get out. He couldn’t catch her once she had them.

He tackled her from behind. She let out a small cry of surprise as his body shoved her onto the bed. His weight pushed down on her, squishing her into the mattress. Grabbing a hold of the quilt, Faelynn began frantically trying to pull herself out from under him. She managed to turn herself around only to come face to face with the man, now more pissed off then before.

“It’s not me! I’m not Reine!” She desperately said to him, pleading with him to believe her. “I’m just her fence!”

She tried to push him off her, but he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. She struggled, she squirmed, she even tried to kick at him but his weight was so firmly pressed against her, she could barely move, barely breathe.

“Eric—”

“Shut up!”

She could feel his ragged, shallow breaths fan across her face. She could feel the anger coming off him in waves of heat like the licking flames of a fire. He wasn’t going to believe her.

He shifted his weight above her and forced her hands together so he could firmly hold them in place with only one of his. One of his hands completely enclosed both of her small wrists. With his other hand he began pulling up her already entangled skirt, revealing more and more of her legs.

No!

By the Gods she didn’t dare speak the word aloud, but that’s all she wanted to shout at him.

His calloused hand travelled up her calf and up along the side of her thigh. She couldn't help but shiver, until his fingers pressed against on the still healing gash on top of her thigh. She winced, his hard, blue eyes only looked at her, they just looked at her and it was enough. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of pain and hatred and welling with unshed tears. Why couldn’t he have just left it alone? Why did he have to track her down? Why?

Faelynn blinked to clear the blurry mess that had become his face. She felt the tears slide down the side of her face and disappear into her hairline. When she opened them, Eric was still watching her. She didn’t know how to read his expression. It lay somewhere between anger and confusion, between pain and...and what? She wished she knew what was going on inside of his head. Whether or not she liked him, if he tried to turn her over to the authorities she would fight tooth and nail.

“Why?” He voice sounded harsh, ragged and thick with emotion.

She didn’t know what why he was asking her. Why she was a thief, why she stole his dagger, why she left him a little breadcrumb to find his way here. She didn’t know.

His hand still lay on her thigh, the rough feel of his fingers and palm no longer bit into the wound he had given her. Instead, his fingers softly caressed her leg, playing circles with the smooth skin. Did he even realize he was doing that? Did he know how distracting it was? How good it felt?

Faelynn opened her mouth to say something to him, anything, but nothing came out. She didn’t know what she should tell him, what she could. She was a thief; there was no way she could deny that now. She did because she enjoyed it, because it gave her a rush like no other. She did it because it paid well. She could have been the good little girl everyone expected her to be, but she needed that feeling of excitement. She needed the adrenaline of taking something, no matter what it was.

“Why...?” His voice was so much softer this time, the question almost needing no answer though pleading for one. His face a mere inch or two away from hers. His body still pressing against her, letting her feel the contours of his chest and stomach, his legs entangled in her own.

His eyes searched her face, and then focused on her mouth. Agonizingly slow he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly. His kiss maddeningly slow and gentle and not at all what she wanted. She squirmed beneath him and he released her hands. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close, burying her fingers into the tangled mess that had become his hair. Her fingers scraped at his scalp and wrapped themselves in the strands of his hair, tugging on them. He responded and crushed his mouth against her in a bruising kiss that made her moan. His hand pushed her leg open and he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of her thigh.

[Lord Anglekos]

What are you doing?!

His inner-voice cried out at him in sheer...what? Terror? Shock? Surprise? He couldn't tell. It didn't reach his senses, though, as his lips, dry from the gusts of the desert night, met Faelynn's soft, slightly parted ones with exquisite power and eagerness. In the back of his head he kept crying that same question he'd asked the woman beneath him: Why? Why, why, why, why?! Why was he doing this, why didn't he take his dagger and leave, why didn't he report her to the authorities, and why, oh god why was he so turned on? The moment his hands had pinned her's to the floor and prevented her from reaching her bag the mood had changed. The very air grew hotter, it felt to him, and he could feel the blood within his body shifting, burning as it flowed to the parts of him that identified him as a man.

Amalia lay forgotten a few feet away from them, and even if he could touch the golden hair decorating the hilt he did not think that it would have dissuaded him from this. He'd seen the pupils of Fae's remarkable green and gold eyes enlarge, felt the change in her breathing become heavier, deeper. Even as his fingers found the proof he'd been looking for, the intimacy of that very act had both frightened and excited him. And now here he was, pursuer entangled with the very prey he'd sought. Was it possible, his subconscious whispered, that he'd not chased her so adamantly for his dagger but for this very act, this incredible moment of passion and heat? Had he somehow known all along that it would be like this, that he would finally touch female flesh after all this years and not recoil from a dead girl's memory? As his lips left hers and grazed down her throat, he thought to himself that yes, maybe it was so.

He let his teeth taste her neck, and the thief tilted her head back with a low moan that sent fire racing through his already burning body. His fingers caressed the skin around the wound he'd given her, careful not to press too hard and yet at the same time not giving a damn. Trailing his lips down her chest he reached around her and pulled the straps from from her shoulders and down her arms, half expecting Fae to resist him, to stop him even though her arms were wrapped his neck and her hands fisted in his hair. She didn't and instead helped him, shrugging her shoulders breathlessly until he drew the neckline of her shirt down, exposing her breasts with an eagerness that left him wanton. He immediately cupped her left in his hand, feeling the soft, gentle weight of it in the palm of his hand and enjoying the way she bit back her moans as his skin brushed her hard nipple. Those moans gave way as his teeth found that sensitive peak and she arched her back, her fingernails digging into his shoulderblades. For a moment Eric thought that the two of them would be far more comfortable in a different position, but then that moment was gone as his fingers brushed against the fabric covering the most sensitive part of her between her legs.

Had that fabric not been there, his fingers would have touched feminine flesh there and even at the touch both of this drew in breaths of pleasure; his at the anticipation of taking her, hers at the anticipation of being taken. He wasted no time now in trying to be slow, careful, romantic; his lust had been driven to it's peak by her, and he wanted Faelynn in ways no proper Lord or Lady would have appreciated. Again, he didn't give a damn either. At that moment, he was but a man and she but a woman, both of them fueled by equal passion and need. He yanked off her underwear, and she gave a little cry of surprise before that sound gave way to a whimper of pleasure as he forced her legs farther apart and his mouth found her clitoris. Her hips bucked as she cried out softly and he chuckled quietly beneath his breath before he spread her apart with his fingers. She gasped and clutched at his hair in need as his tongue parted her folds, and she grinded her crotch needily against his mouth. He didn't mind, and responded like a man dying of thirst as his teeth massaged the skin of her crotch, pulling on it and sucking on it.

"Eric..." She whispered throatily, almost a demand rather than a plea in her voice. "...Eric please..."

That was it; his name was the trigger. If he had not been in a state of berserk lust before, he certainly was now. He threw off his cloak and tore off the shirt and chainmail underneath, tossing them to the side as he kissed her fiercely. Their tongues danced within the cage that their mouths created, and he was vaguely aware of small, whimpering noises being made. From him or from her, he didn't know. Could've been either of them. Could've been both.

Her hands moved on her own, and Eric grit his teeth in both pleasure and frustration as he felt her fingers caressing the bulge in the crotch of his pants, like a child tempting the wolf in his confines. There was a small sound as she undid his zipper, and suddenly he felt soft, warm flesh surrounding his erection. The touch was so sudden and unexpected that he nearly lost his control then and there in her hand, and as it was his hands darted to her breasts in order to keep it. He cared not for the power behind his hands, and the cry of simultaneous pain and pleasure as he squeezed the luscious flesh beneath his hands only served to make him harder and more eager. For a few moments they sat there, him leaving marks upon her breasts from his fingers and her stroking and teasing him with maddening temptation.

Finally he could stand it no more. His hands flashed and suddenly hers were pinned once more above her head, unable to move. Her green and gold eyes darted to his and they widened as they saw the vicious intent within as he spread her legs apart once more, her folds glistening wet and inviting under the lamplight of the room. "Oh Eric, I...." She gasped a little as the tip of his cock prodded her clit, and a moan escaped her as her hips moved against his. She lifted her rear from the floor and stroked the length of his manhood teasingly, showing him how ready, how eager she was for him. He grasped himself in his hand, and the head of his length barely pushed against her wet opening before something stopped him.

"Oh, my Eric..."

Faelynn's mouth moved. Her eyes, her expression moved with it. But the words that came from her mouth were not her words; the voice, not hers as well. At that moment he saw not Faelynn Thiadore, aka Reine, lying there with her brunette hair in a sexy, disheveled mess but Amalia, with her blond locks astray and clear eyes begging for him. He blinked, and there was Faelynn again. He blinked once more, and Amalia was lying back there. What the hell...? "Amalia...?" Shaking his head he pushed himself away from her, stumbling back to his feet and holding his head, trying to figure out just what was going on. "What the hell...?"

[Reine]

By the Gods she wanted him so bad. She wanted to feel him in her, pounding in her. Bringing her to that brink; that one perfect moment in time where it lay suspended and every little nerve in her body came to life. She wanted that from him more than she’d wanted it from anyone else. It scared her. It excited her. It burned her so strongly she didn’t know what to do other than beg for him to keep going, to never stop. She wanted to feel his hands all over her, his tongue licking, teasing and giving her that release over and over again until she couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to feel everything, but most of all she just wanted to feel him.

Then, something happened. Breathlessly she waited for that moment when he pushed into her, wondering if he would be gentle or rough, wondering if he’d take it slow or fuck her like she wanted him to. The tip of him had barely entered her, spreading her open for the rest. Then it had stopped. He never pushed into her, never filled that ache inside of her. He pulled back. He called her something, and let her go. That familiar word he had spoken. Had he just called her Amalia? No, she had to be mistaken. Eric would never do something like that. Lying there rather breathlessly, Faelynn replayed the sentence and the moment, balling her hands into fists as she thought of how close they’d been and then... yes, he had called her Amalia. He had called her by the name of his dead fiancé.

Her fingers wrapped themselves in the tussled sheet covering her beg and tangled all about her body. They dug into the soft material, wishing to rip it apart, like she wanted to rip him apart. How could he do something like that? How could he just, oh, he was disgusting!

Faelynn sat up, barely caring about her nudity. Her eyes had grown a darker shade of green, reflecting the anger and the pain that lay behind them. She had offered herself to him, she had been about to give herself to him physically and he had mistaken her for his dead fiancé!? What kind of sick, twisted man was he?

“Oh, you son of a bitch! I can’t believe you just...”

She fisted her hands together so hard she could feel her nails digging into the flesh of her palm through the sheet. The pain helped stop her from pounding his face into the wall a few feet away from him. She felt disgusting. She felt dirty. She wanted him out of her room, she wanted him away from her, now!

She pushed herself off the bed. Her skirt pooled down around her legs, immediately covering that most private part of herself. In a single jerky move she grabbed her shirt and forced the straps back up, covering her breasts from his gaze. He still stood naked a mere foot or two away from her, but she could personally care less about him. She hoped a horse and cart ran him over, or the next thief in this city slit his throat and took him for everything he was worth, which in her mind was not much.

“Get out...” The words came out in a choked whisper, but force lay behind them. Force and barely contained rage.

“W-what?”

“I said get out!” She screamed the words at him. She couldn’t bare the sight of him right now.

Reaching down, she grabbed his shirt, his chainmail, she grabbed anything of his that could fit in her two small hands and she threw them at his chest. He haphazardly caught them, the chainmail falling to the floor in a crash and shimmer of tiny little links of metal colliding with wood and each other.

“Faelynn—”

“Don’t you dare think you can call my name.” She spat the words at him.

Her face now reddened with her own anger. With her bare feet slapping against the wooden floor, Faelynn marched over to her bag. Her fingers fumbled with the clasps, her body shaking and making it difficult to undo the straps. Finally, she got them free and reached inside calling for the dagger she had stolen from Eric. The cold feel of the hilt landed in her hot palm and she closed her fingers around it, pulling it from the bag.

“Take your dagger and get out! You disgust me!”

She had very little experience with daggers, but at this point she didn’t care. She threw the thing at him. It was probably his luck she’d never been good at throwing daggers, especially larger ones as heavy as that. It impacted the floor at his feet with a sickening thunk. She almost wished it had hit him instead, almost. Turning her back on him, she walked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She felt so gross. She could still feel him all over her body. If only she could rip her skin off. In a furry of movement, she ripped her clothes from her body and then walked over to the tub. She wanted him off her. She wanted the feeling of him off her skin. Turning the taps, Faelynn began to run herself a very, very hot bath. In the other room, she heard heavy steps. They came towards the door to the bathroom and stopped. She stopped. With her heart thudding like a drum in her chest she sank to the floor of the bathroom. Ice cold tile met her bare legs, causing a series of goose pimples to break out across her skin. The seconds ticked by. He said nothing. Then she heard him turn and walk away.
Fae didn’t move until she heard the door to her room slam shut, then she slipped into water so hot her skin turned bright red.


------------------------

SPOILS:

Steel Bangles: (they’re mentioned in the quest as prevalida because that’s what I requested them at. However, in the sequel to this, they were turned down and made into steel. I’m not going through every post and editing it, especially since I can’t edit Lord A’s posts) The Steel bracers have a somewhat defective but beneficial enchantment upon them. They are symbiotic and will only work on Faelynn’s command. When she activates them through a mere thought (or sometimes emotional distress) they cause her body to lose much of its substance, turning into a sort of liquid though still retaining her form. This can only last for up to 30 seconds at the enchantments current state and she can still be injured, though by blunt attacks and not by slashing or piercing attacks.

Faelynn also loses the dagger stolen from Eric, who subsequently gains it back. Eric also bought armour during the quest, I’m sure he’d like that as a spoil since he’s currently not around to request it himself.

[Breaker]

Can you catch the rain…
Quest Judgment

I really enjoyed reading this, and I’m disappointed Lord A isn’t around to finish it. If I were you I’d have waited and finished this thing properly, but since you submitted it, here’s the judgment.

STORY

Continuity ~ 4/10. You lost a couple points here because of the sudden ending. Reine still did a good job of tying things up, but the story is certainly incomplete. Otherwise, you both did a good job of relating the characters’ history together, and I liked Lord A’s reflection on his past. Reine, you could have given more about Fae’s brother, the Cult of Mitra, maybe analyze why she became a thief. You touched on some of these thigns, but could have done better.

Setting ~ 6.5/10. Quite consistently well depicted. There were a few minor inconsistencies and places it would have been beneficial to write a little more or a little less. Overall this score would have been a 7 except for the fight scene in post #4. While it was a very cool battle which I enjoyed reading… they were knocking things over, yelling, smashing against the walls, and NO ONE on the other side of the door seemed to notice. If you just forgot, then the lesson for next time is to always remember the context of your setting, and how the actions affect it. If the room was soundproof, you should have mentioned that.

Pacing ~ 7/10. The lengthy posts slowed me down a little at times, but overall this thread moved at a decent clip and kept me interested. Unfortunately, my interest also worked against you as I wanted you to finish this thread properly, damn it.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 6/10. Lord A, your dialogue was excellent. Reine, yours was decent, but you could take a lesson from Lord A. The main difference is the fact that he surrounds his dialogue with body language, justification, emotions, and descriptions. Your dialogue on the other hand was mostly just plain dialogue. Remember, how a character says something can be just as important as what they say.

Action ~ 8/10. You both did a very good job of using actions to bring your characters to life, and the combat was well written. Keep evolving in this fashion and soon I’ll be your biggest fan.

Persona ~ 7.5/10. I had this at 8, because both of your main characters were very strong and well defined. However, I felt that some of the NPCs came off a little simplistic (while others were well written). Lord A in particular, I really enjoyed Eric’s development as an uptight noble learning to let it hang out, so to speak. Reine, you started a little slow but picked up in the latter half of the thread, showing a strong female persona who went after what she wanted without really knowing what it was.

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 7/10. You both displayed some impressive work with metaphor and simile. Keep it up, and look into using some more complex imagery like personification.

Mechanics ~ 8/10. I caught at most two or three errors per post. Some typos and silly mistakes, and a bit of grammar stuff. Overall well done.

Clarity ~ 7/10.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 7/10. I enjoyed the story, enjoyed the characters, and enjoyed your writing styles. I’d be happy to write alongside either or both of you sometime, keep up the good work.

TOTAL ~ 70/100. Highest score I’ve given in awhile, and you deserve it. Feel free to PM/IM me if you have questions/concerns about the judgement.

Reine receives 1292 EXP and the Steel Bangles. The ability is approved, however, it may only be used in quests (not battles) until your next profile update, at which point its details will be subject to RoG mod approval. Also, I deducted your gold to make up for this.

Lord Anglekos receives 800 EXP and 74 GP.

I can't quite justify giving him mythril chainmail for 5 posts. But if you ever make the sequel to this, request me for judgement and as long as that thread is up to par with this one, he'll get it.

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.