Something New, Something Yet Undiscovered ~ Open to ALL

[Lost Without You]

"God is on a rampage again," the fallen seraphim muttered almost unknowingly. Farasrian's hand reached out for the glass before him. His piercing gaze burying deep into the dark depths of the beverage he'd ordered only moments before from the more than cooperative barkeep. The fallen seraphim took a long drink from his glass and then set it down on the oak table.

The small demon across the table chuckled quietly, "How can you tell, Rian?" Farasrian's gaze turned back to peer at the demon as his lips parted belying the words that began to be spoken, "Listen ... " The demon's ears perked up as he turned his head this way and that, "I don't hear anything but the rain and thunder, Rian." The fallen seraphim merely nodded in acknowledgement of the answer. The demon's hand reached up to his head as he scratched it clearly confused by Farasrian's lack of response. "Rian, I'm confused. I mean, what does the rain have to do with God," the poor little demon's eyes belied the innocence within.

The fallen seraphim raised his glass as he took another drink. "Not the rain, the thunder, Jake." Jake looked at Farasrian quizically. He was clearly confused and Farasrian's lack of complete answers was clearly getting on the little guy's nerves. "Rian, are you feeling ok? I mean, you're not making ANY sense here bud." The fallen seraphim nodded in response and Jake couldn't help but growl in annoyance. Farasrian explained more for the poor lost demon, "Jake, when God gets into one of his fits the sky grows dark and streaks of lightning begin to light the sky, and the accompanying thunder is Him simply trying to show off his 'mighty power'."

The fallen seraphim lowered his glass back to the table as he motioned for the barkeep to fill the empty vessel. Jake's eyes filled with understanding and he nodded excitedly. "Rian, you are so full of knowledge and wisdom! I'm so glad you found me in Haidia when you did! I was sure I was a goner when those big mean dwarves had mugged me, but then bam, you showed up and showed them who's boss! I really appreciate it," the little demon beamed appreciatively. Farasrian simply nodded in acknowledgement.

"You owe me one," Farasrian said unemotionally. Jake simply nodded as the sounds of the Peaceful Promenade faded back into their ears.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla pushed open the door to the Peaceful Promenade and didn't bother to close it once she'd stepped inside. She stood just inside the threshhold, dripping water from the hem of her purple cloak and hood and belatedly hoping that her belongings were safe in the small pouch she carried under her arm.

I'm doing well, the Elemental chirped telepathically from her bag.

I don't care about you, Twyla shot back. I'm only carrying you because your disgusting snake-ness would scare people I need to talk to.

Her eyes roamed the room from beneath her hood, settling on faces and figures with curiosity as a howling wind drove rain through the open doorway behind her. Soft light emanated from torches hung along the wall and from the ceiling, casting flickering shadows across the floor and on the oak tables that were scattered throughout the room.

A young barmaid scurried from the fireplace and shut the door behind her, smiling pleasantly as she gestured towards the bar. "Sorry, ma'am, there aren't any free tables, we have a full house tonight. The storm drove everybody home or here, you know?"

"Are there usually so many . . . non-humans?"

"Oh, don't worry, they're all perfectly harmless," the girl replied, still smiling. "Yes, we're quite popular with all races and species. We don't discriminate like those hateful snobs down the street. The only requirement for our tavern is the money to pay for your drink!"

Twyla nodded once in reply, hoping the cheerful girl would leave her alone. Her buoyancy was like a dark hole, sucking away what little good cheer the nymph had left. She weaved through the tables as inconspicuously as possible, hoping to avoid attracting attention as she sat down in a seat at the bar near the wall. The fireplace was placed a few feet away from her her back and the rest of the common room sprawled out beside and behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she ordered tea from the barkeep. She didn't like having her back turned to humanity.

I could keep watch for you, the dragon in her purse offered.

Fine, the nymph replied uncaringly. Earn your keep.

A few seconds later the Elemental had soaked through her bag and twined as a vine of water down the leg of her chair, settling as a puddle on the ground beneath her. Twyla glanced down and rolled her eyes. Stupid snake, she thought to herself, even though she knew the Elemental could hear her.

There's a few human sitting around a table near the door that look friendly, it offered a few moments later.

I don't feel like being barraged with idiocy right now. Is there anyone in here who looks sober enough to carry on a semi-intelligent conversation?

There's an elven poet who's thinking about-

No.

Some dwarves-

No! Twyla clenched one fist on the countertop to control her irritation. Her teacup had some sort of stain on the handle that didn't come off when she scratched it with her nail. The tea itself was dark yellow and emitted bubbles when she tapped the side of the cup. Anybody else?

There's a demon at one table.

Twyla held back a shudder. Not of fear, of course, she just didn't like demons. And? Is he a threat?

They're talking about God.

Twyla nearly snorted aloud. I said I wanted intelligent conversation, remember? Why would I care about somebody who doesn't exist? The Elemental didn't reply, and Twyla's thoughts went unhappily back to the rain. If this storm kept up, they could be stuck here for at least the night, and that would put her a whole day behind on her plans. Stupid rain.

That water isn't sentient.

Shut up. Snapping at the telepathic dragon always made her feel better. Changed my mind, snake. Keep tabs on the demon conversation. Tell me if they say something relevent. At least it would be a distraction from the torrent outside.

[Lost Without You]

Jake shuddered ever so slightly as the gusts of wind and the cold rainy air made their way into the Promenade through the confines of the now agape entryway. "Hey Rian, can we head back to Haidia," the small pudgy demon asked Farasrian inquizzically. Farasrian's red beady eyes glanced at Jake only for a moment before nonchalantly replying, "Soon enough, Jake. Soon enough." As Farasrian's hand reached down to grasp his glass once more his eyes caught a glimpse of the young lady who'd left the door open to the Promenade.

He'd never seen a nymph before. Of course, he'd heard of them, just he'd never seen one up close before. The fallen seraphim shrugged as Jake commented quietly, "Something up, Rian?" Farasrian simply shook his head in response. Something tugged at him inside and he put it to memory to spend some time in deep Meditation later in the evening to decipher what it was.

Jake peered at Farasrian. He knew that something had irked him, and whatever it was Jake wanted to know. So being the rather persistent little bugger he was, Jake began to dig deeper. "What's on your mind, Rian? You know I can't stand you keeping things from me," the small demon said through a wry smile. Farasrian nodded but still elected to not respond verbally. Jake wasn't satisfied with a head shake, and Farasrian had to know that. Jake continued his verbal barrage, "Come on, Rian. Tell me what's up!"

Farasrian set his glass down on the table and peered into the eyes of the little red demon before him. "Do you REALLY want to know, Jake," Farasrian asked of the little red fellow. Jake responded with a simple violent nod. "Well, Jake, when was the last time you saw a Nymph around these parts," the seraphim quizzed the demon. Jake sat thinking for only a split second before responding, "Now that you mention it, never." Farasrian nodded in agreement. Now Jake understood Farasrian's discontent with the sight of the young woman, and he too began to ponder the possible reasoning behind her presence here.

[Nymph and Dragon]

What do you consider "relevent?"

The dragon's voice interrupted the nymph's thoughts and she jumped visibly, her hand knocking against her cup and making the liquid in it slosh over the side. She watched in fascination as the droplets that hit the stain on the handle began to sizzle. What are you talking about?

The demon. They're not talking about humans.

And? I have a life outside of humanity, you know. I thought you said they were talking about God.

Not anymore.

Twyla inhaled slowly, tempted to reach one foot down and stomp on the puddle beneath her chair. If their bond wouldn't make her feel the same blow . . .

Well then, snake, what is it they're talking about?

You.

Twyla blinked. She hadn't been expecting that. What about me?

They say that it's been a while since they've seen nymphs around here.

Who is "they?" She demanded irritably. You said a demon. What else?

I suppose one might call the other . . . a devil?

Twyla pondered the dragon's words for a minute, her brow furrowing as she thought.

What the heck is a devil? What does he think he is?

There was a moment of silence, and then the Elemental's voice slid into her mind, sounding timid. I told you before that I won't do that. A man's mind-

-Is his own. Yeah, yeah, I know. Stupid snake. She sighed in frustration and flicked the rim of her teacup. They're not lusting madly after me, are they?

No, I don't think they got very good looks at your face. Are you going to go talk to them?

Well, now you've piqued my curiosity. I want to know how they know I'm a nymph. She paused, then thought with a sly smile, Or you could just tell me . . .

The Elemental didn't reply. Twyla rolled her eyes and shifted in her chair, darting a glance over her shoulder to see if she could figure out which table the demon and devil were at. She couldn't tell. There were a few tables with only two occupants, and all seemed - from the quick glance she'd taken - too normal to be demonic.

They're on your right, near the the other side of the bar.

"I didn't ask you," Twyla growled softly. "Stay out of my mind!"

The telepathic dragon sent a wave of hurt indignance through the nymph's head. She responded with a flood of images of bloated corpses from her gory days as a Siren that made his presence retreat into a corner of her mind. Her lips twisted into a triumphant smile. Maybe that would shut him up for a while.

Gingerly picking up the cup, Twyla furtively turned in her seat so that she could look out across the room. She raised it her face and sniffed delicately, eyes darting to the side to catch a glimpse of the demon and devil. She recoiled in disgust at the putrid scent that wafted up to her nose and set it back onto the bar.

Are they still talking about me?

After a moment the dragon responded petulantly, I thought you wanted me to stay-

Shut up and answer the question, viper. She tapped her foot impatiently against the leg of her chair.

They're silent.

Twyla huffed in disappointment and pulled her hood down lower over her face. Well, their talk's gone from God to me, so their topics seem to be steadily improving. If they mention anything that would be good for my record or for my ego, alert me.

You know, it wouldn't hurt you to be nice.

"Nice" is for dolphins and sunsets. Do what I say.

[Devin Argente]

Devin Argente was more than a little annoyed as he slipped through the half-opened front door of the Peaceful Promenade, quickly closing it behind him when a burst of wind threatened to rip the handle from his hand. Rainstopper his arse. The 'ingenious' device that his father's scientists had crafted for all-day use had seemed quite promising at first: a wooden handle reaching up for a feet or two, then spreading out in six directions horizontally. Thick deerskins were then tightly attached to the framework, offering slight solace against any aquatic siege the sky threw upon the wielder. Fifteen yards before he reached the Promenade, a strong gust had ripped the contraption from his hands, and he'd had to run to be able to maintain any aura of dignity once inside. Dry dignity.

The inn's warmth was like a welcoming embrace, soothing his thunderous expression. Several people greeted him by raising a hand, others did their best to look the other way. Yes, he was known. Yes, he knew them. And yet, not a single word was exchanged as the slender Argente walked over to the fireplace, leaving a pattern of wet footsteps in his wake. The hearth's flames seemed to reach out for him, flickering in mesmerizing meanders of gold and orange. Due to his short sprint through the rain, his white blouse was completely dry, and the black jacket covering it had only sustained several drops. On the other hand, his dark trousers were soaked, and would need more time to lose the wetness. Sighing, he turned around to face the common room. He recognized nearly everyone. Gasper the Half-Orc sat at the center of all attention, boisterously narrating of his adventurous tales. True or not, Devin had to admit that they were amusing, most of the time.

Findel the Elf is here. Bozzur and Gazzak, crazy dwarves. And Yesher the fisherman, drinking alone as usual. But who're those two guys in the corner? Newlings?... Hmmm, anyway, Leon's not here. Upstairs, perhaps?

Leon Straell was the sole reason he was here, this day. On the job. Straell was late with payment to the family. So, it was up to Devin to 'extract' finances from him. Although the method involved was quite cruel, one could assert that Leon had brought it upon himself: loans had to be repaid in time. He tapped a passing barmaid on the shoulder, politely, and put on the most charming smile he could muster.

"Excuse me, dear, but could you please tell me where mister Straell is, at the moment?" She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"I know who you mean," she responded. "But I don't know whether he's in the inn, or what room he's in. You could ask the innkeeper," she suggested and gestured in the direction of the bar, where Devin could hardly discern the bloated frame of the walrussian proprietor between the crowd tormenting him with more and more requests for ale.

"Sir?" the maid asked, uncertainly. "Sir? Could I get you something to drink, sir?"

"No, thanks," he replied absently. He felt in no way inclined to start a bar fight by worming himself through the drunk oafs near the bartender. And there wasn't any haste behind the Straell case. He might as well consider the job done for today. He stretched his arms out in front of him, and noticed that his clothing was dry and stiff from the fire's warmth. He looked around, relaxing his gaze, and suddenly regretting the fact that he'd ordered no ale when he'd had the chance. No maid was walking around the common room. Now he'd have to squirm between the people at the bar. He decided to put his irritation aside and looked to his right; a hooded figure sat bent over the bar, nearly uninterested in the goings-on around him. Or was it a her? Yes, probably a her. Too much form for a male.

He pondered whether he would walk up to her and try to assure some entertainment for the night, but something about her made him drop that idea quickly. Very quickly. Fact remained that there was an empty space at the bar, next to her. Without watching his step, the young man subconsciously ran one hand through his hair and leaned onto the bar, trying to get the attention of the barkeeper. Too late did he notice that he'd stepped into something not part of the floor. He quickly replaced his foot to a less comfortable position when he noticed he was standing in a puddle of water.

"No wonder no one wants to sit here," he mumbled. His embarassment sufficed to wipe away any thought of starting conversation with the hooded woman. Instead, Devin quickly paid for his ale and moved into the common room again. He received numerous invitations of shady visitors, to join and play a card game, or to just chat. He politely turned them down. There were newlings here. And Devin was very much intent on knowing all that happened here in the Peaceful Promenade, the social center of Underwood. He wandered casually over to the table next to the bar, and eyed the awkward duo there inconspicuously. One was small, red-skinned. Fiendish, but not hostile-looking. The other was remarkably calm, eyeing his drink and speaking to his partner every now and then.

He stood at an unoccupied seat and nodded in friendly fashion in both the man and the demon's direction.

"Good day, kind gentlemen. Care if I share your table? A storm outside is easier forgotten when chatting over a drink or two." Oh yes, he could be amicable. But only if he wished so.

[Lost Without You]

Farasrian and Jake sat in silence mulling over the infinite possibilities of the nymph's purposes for having found her solace from the rain within the confines of the Peaceful Promenade. Jake squirmed in his seat as he tried to get the best possible angle to see the face of the nymph. "Perhaps she's here about the crystals," the little demon said with the utmost sense of duty and curiosity. The fallen seraphim shook his head as he turned to get a solid look at her once more.

As he turned he noted she covered her head with her hood even more than before in essence barring all visibility of her face from their view. "You know full well she wouldn't have a clue about the crystals, whereabouts or otherwise. For all we know she's just travelling through and happened to stop in to protect herself from the rain," Farasrian didn't believe his own statement, but he said it to ease the concerns of his little friend. Truth be told Farasrian wasn't curious so much as he just felt there was an importance behind her being there on that particular evening.

Farasrian strained to get a better look at her face, but once again her attempts to cover it from view had succeeded and he finally gave up the struggle. The sound of a loud thud echoed throughout the Promenade as a man stepped through. "Wait a second, Rian, I thought nymphs lived in the water so she'd have no real need to shelter herself from it," the sound of the little demon's voice caught Farasrian off guard as he turned his head to focus on Jake once more. Farasrian nodded his response, and the little demon seemed to gain a bit of confidence from connecting the dots. "It would seem to me, Rian, that the little nymph over there might have some information we may desperately need," Jake muttered at last connecting all the dots within his mind.

Farasrian nodded once more as he turned to once again try and focus in on the nymph and her companion, or lack thereof. A nymph travelling alone in a huge storm like this in the dead of night -- something is amiss. As Farasrian turned to depart from their table the man who'd just made his way in sat down immediately next to them and then attempted to enter his way into the conversation, and subsequently, the duo's personal business. "It's always a pleasure to share a table with a human such as yourself. Most humans I've run across are idiots, and yet they stereotype us demons as dim-witted beings," the little demon didn't realize just how rude that comment would come across.

Farasrian turned his face to stare emotionless into the eyes of the conversational intruder before him. He extended his hand toward the empty seat next to Jake as he spoke his welcome and apology, "Please excuse my little friend, Jake. He's unaccustomed to humans still. And by all means please have a seat with us, but be warned we do not dwell kindly on those out for personal gain." Farasrian's comment was meant to explain his position, and at the same time make it clear how he felt about the new member to their conversation. There was no room for error.

[Nymph and Dragon]

They're very curious about you, The Elemental commented from below.

They should be, Twyla thought back with a smirk. I'm the most interesting thing in this godforsaken town.

We aren't searching for any kind of crystal, are we?

I am doing research on humanity. YOU are only here because you're with me, and you're only with me because you stole my soul.

The dragon seemed wounded. I didn't steal-

A sharp burst of pain shot through the nymph's side, causing her to hunch over and grab her stomach, face contorted as she tried not to cry out. She could feel the warmth of a person standing at her side, but another burst of pain held her from responding to his presence. Then, just as suddenly as the pain had come, it receded, fading into a dull ache that throbbed just below her ribs.

Twyla heard mumbling and turned her head to look covertly at the person beside her, catching sight of a pale, dark-haired man who had been looking down at the floor before he moved away. She followed his gaze and watched with growing ire as the puddle that the man had stepped on flowed inconspicuously into a smaller mass located more directly beneath her chair.

Twyla didn't trust herself to speak. She had yet to master telepathic yelling, and she was afraid that even if she attempted to maintain decorum, once she got on a roll there would be no stopping the shouts that would inevitably come through. She sat up straight, hoping that no one had noticed her moment of weakness. The Elemental's presence in her mind reeked of horrified apology, but the dragon knew better than to try to talk to her.

You just better be glad that you felt the same thing.

Still tight-lipped with anger, Twyla turned in her seat and pretended to look at the door, letting her gaze sweep across the room and back as she returned to her original position and rested one elbow on the counter.

"More tea for you, ma'am?" The barkeep smiled pleasantly as he held a kettle over her still-full cup.

"No, thank you." Twyla replied lightly, lowering her head to ensure that her face was hidden in the shadow of her hood. "I've had quite enough dealings with aqueous substances for one night."

"Well, ma'am, if you're getting tired and would like to rent a room, you may want to do so quickly. The rain's not letting up and I expect there won't be many open rooms once this lot's had their fill." He jerked his head towards the rest of the room with a cheery grin.

"Thanks for the tip." Twyla didn't trust people who smiled as freely as the barkeep. Humans lived short, miserable, pathetic lives; any that could bear to be as congenial as that one had to be either a fraud or a halfwit. She wasn't interested in a room anyway, the last time she had needed sleep she had been on the ocean floor with her sisters. The man nodded at her and walked away, rubbing his bulging gut with his free hand as he took the kettle back towards the kitchen.

Twyla, are you still angry at me?

She replied by recalling in exquisite detail the time she'd brought two sailors to impale themselves on broken timber while their ship was sinking beneath them.

They're talking about you again. They think you might have information they need.

They're coming over here? The flare of alarm that went through her skull made her angry at herself. Even if this demon was powerful, what could he do to her in here? All she had to do was charm some of the men around her and leave them to distract the monster while she made a fast getaway.

I wouldn't let him hurt you, the Elemental vowed.

Twyla snorted. No, you're good at hurting me all by yourself.

I wasn't that far out from under your chair.

Save it. What do they think I know?

The dragon was quiet for a moment. Someone else joined their table.

So?

They're not talking about you anymore.

The nymph rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, staring dully at her cold cup of tea.

The demon thinks like you.

Like me? Twyla questioned doubtfully. How so?

The Elemental's voice rang with disapproval. He says that most humans are idiots.

A small smile turned up one side of her lips. How unexpected. Wisdom from the mouth of a monster.

[Devin Argente]

The welcome was not exactly jovial - not sour, either, but Devin could not help but perceive a certain edginess to their words. Still, he had been allowed a seat. Such a show of hospitality was at least something. He gracefully swayed his leg over the chair and put his ale down with a soft clunk. As he retracted his hand, his lower arm collided with the edge of the table. An unmistakable thud of wood hitting wood ensued, but the young man pretended not to hear it; instead, he ran the suspicious hand through his irregular auburn hair to rid the sonance of attention. His face turned to its normal, expressionless self as he looked left and right - a frame textured merely in black-and-white, save for puncturing red eyes, to his left. A small, impish creature to his right. He withdrew a grin. The Peaceful Promenade definitely drew guests from all kinds of heritage these times.

"Well, nice to meet you, Jake," he replied with a smile to the fiend's contemning conjecture. "Most demons I know of hunger to destroy Althanas and every living, breathing thing walking its surface. But here you are, enjoying a chat at a crowded Peaceful Promenade." His smile grew wider. "But I'll agree that most humans are gullible fools. I like them that way, and perhaps so should any race other than humans. What if us fools start developing?" He chuckled. "A stranger once told me that, in the future, humans could see what was happening all over Althanas through boxes of glass, and that they'd be riding mechanical constructions that did not require horses to power."

He stopped laughing.

"That'd be rather hazardous to the other races' survival." Hoping to have made his point, he turned to the man to his left. Well... man? Red orbs clashed with his own mahogany pools - two gazes that met without expression, or emotion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the young Argente wondered whether this was the way other people saw him: merciless, devilish even? It was quite clear that Jake the demon was not the most dangerous individual sitting at this table, however much general assumption suggested that to be so. His genius quickly calculated how much this man could already know about him and his background. Not much. Most of the Promenade's patrons were wise enough to keep their jaws shut about Argente business. Still, the man's unveiled warning about personal gain embedded itself in Devin's mind. He had to be careful.

"Personal gain is what I am all about," he replied, although contrarily to his words, he did not crave altercation. With his head slightly inclined towards Jake he continued: "But I prefer to victimize ignorant humans deserving of such treatment, not those who continuously beware of my practises. It's a way of life. The strong rule the weak, the bright ride the heads of the dim to fame." A slightly troubling statement, indeed, but he was not amongst humans. He took a small sip of his ale. "Just take a look at politics. Corone, Scara Brae... the power is in hands of those with money and big mouths, not necessarily those sporting capabilities as political leaders." With that, he hoped to bring the discussion to something they could all agree on, instead of raving on about the separate qualms and qualities of each species accumulated in the Peaceful Promenade today.

[Lost Without You]

Farasrian stared blankly into the eyes of the man before him for a only a few moments before turning his head awkwardly in the direction of the nymph. Something still irked him about her presence. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she seemed to be hiding something, or perhaps conversing with someone who really wasn't there. That was when it hit him ...

All the while Jake sat and chortled at the human's response to his comment about humans. "Well, if humans on a whole started to develop I'd say we civilized beings are in for a world of trouble -- " Jake had run into many humans in his time around Althanas, and all had seemed out for one of two things -- greed or lust. "Why, if I had it my way, I'd lock all them humans up, save yourself of course, Mister, uh, what did you say your name was?" Jake knew the man hadn't mentioned his name, but he wasn't about to let something as trivial as that slip by without a fight.

"Would you two mind if I excused myself for a few moments? I have some, ahem, business to take care of with a special someone," Farasrian was certain that Jake would get the hint, and that chances were likely so would the other gentleman. It wasn't like Farasrian was trying to hide something; he just wanted to make sure for himself before he went off worrying his little demon friend. Farasrian stood quickly and within moments had made his way to the empty seat next to the nymph.

"Glass boxes that see places other than where you are? I can't believe that's possible sir," Jake stated quickly returning the focus back to his conversation with the man of an unknown name. "The way I see it is that if the humans don't kill themselves off first with this whole war and fighting thing, then surely love and peace will. I mean, come on, who in there right mind really can stand love and peace for more than five minutes before they grow bored. After all where I come from we call that human nature, and it seems, human nature is more natural than mother nature, if you get my drift." Jake's rant wasn't random in it's purpose, but it might've appeared that way to the man.

"Barkeep, can I have a shot of whiskey," Farasrian said hoping to catch the nymph's attention ever so subtly. He turned slightly to face the nymph as he spoke up, "Oh, and whatever this nice young lady would like as well." Farasrian knew a nymph couldn't resist being hit on, even if his only purpose was to lure her into conversation. "My name is Farasrian, by the way, and I noticed you from the other side of the room. I figured why let a pretty young thing sit all alone at the bar? The least I could do was join you. Besides, I bet you'd like some company right now, huh?" Farasrian kept his senses keen to any sounds around him other than the bar's patrons. He just knew the nymph was possessed and he wanted to find out who it was and why.

Jake twisted in his chair a bit as he tried to settle more easily into the hard wooden surface beneath him. "As far as I'm concerned all politics is based on one human notion, the notion of personal gain. That's why my friend was so adamant about ensuring you understood our rather unsavory dislike for such things. We've come across many humans in our travels together that would've killed us, robbed us, or tortured us had they known our little secret, but Rian and I are just too cunning to let them in on that," the little demon actually had no idea he was giving the man an avenue of interest, but he was aware the man was at least interested in what he had to say. "Besides, if we demons ruled in the ways of humans, we'd all be dead by now." His last comment was meant to throw some hot embers onto the already burning fire of their conversation.

[Nymph and Dragon]

The nymph ran her finger around the rim of her cup, stifling a yawn as she forced herself not to turn around in her seat again. There were plenty of people in the Promenade whom she could have interviewed for her research, but the urge to learn just wasn't nagging at her the way it usually did. Maybe it was the squall, reminding her of the glorious days she'd spent in the ocean with only turbulent storms as competition for the title of greatest human-killer. Sitting was something she'd only started doing on land, and the inactivity chewed away at her nerves, making her temper even shorter than it was usually.

Look lively, the Elemental said into her mind, the devil's on the move.

Twyla's interest perked up. Where's he going?

The warmth of a person appeared suddenly at her side, but despite Twyla's unconscious wince the Elemental had learned its lesson and kept well away from the bottom of his black shoes. She heard the man order a whiskey, and after a rustling of clothes he spoke again, and his voice was more audible over the noise of the tavern as though he were facing her. Is he . . .?

Yep.

Twyla turned minutely to look at the man beside her, keeping her head low so that her face would remain in the shadow of her hood. She saw black clothes, dark lips, and burning red eyes in a face that sent a chill down her spine. Something about his shadowy countenance made her wary, but the words that had come out of his mouth weren't the sinister whispers she would have expected from such a morose facade. 'Pretty young thing?'

A smirk tugged at the corners of the nymph's mouth. Well now, isn't this one for the records. I just met the devil and he's not that bad looking, if you can forgive the uncanny resemblance to a corpse. She savored the novelty that, for once, the attention caught by her Allure wasn't from a slobbering sailor or a sweating miner. Heck, she wasn't even convinced that this guy was human.

"Call me Twyla, with nothing to buy and nothing to sell," she said lightly. "But I'm always game for an intelligent conversation." She shook her head at the waiting barkeep, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

Be careful, the Elemental warned, sensing her intent. Some people don't respond well to prying questions.

Hey, he's the one who extended the invitation to converse; I'm just taking him up on his offer. Call it scholarly curiosity.

Be careful.

Be silent. Twyla turned her attention back to the man at her side, eyes glinting and voice sharper voice than it had before. "Tell me . . . Sassafras, was it? . . . What's your opinion on the presence of non-human entities in a mostly-human setting like this one?"

[Point Soulularity]

The storm continued to rage with the fierceness of the gods’ wrath, large dollops of water plunged from the moisture-engorged sky to slam in an unceasing drum roll on the already saturated soil. The streets were turned into a solid bog of mud where it lacked cobbling, thick enough swallow the unwary pedestrian ankle deep in sludge and worse things. Lightening arced across the sky, creating moments of clarity, perfectly sharp in the bright illumination. It was such that the brief interludes of dark gray were filled by the after images of the flashes. The percussion of the rainfall was accentuated by peals of thunder that shook most buildings to their foundations. This type of weather brought about the darkest of thoughts, and made the idea of an “end of days” seem far too real for comfort. Such dark humors drove men to drink. Steeped in murky liquors of questionable origin, they could find solace in laughing too hard at stale jokes and bawdy harassment of pretty serving maids.

One man, it seemed was in need of such respite, though perhaps in a more conservative manner. His body suit, darker than the moments between Zeus’ assault, gleamed wetly in the bursts of lightening and covered him entirely up to just under his eyes. The precipitation made a soggy cap of his hair; gray seeming, though it may have just appeared that way in this horrendous weather. He trudged morosely through the cobbled streets, the sheathed saber hanging from his right hip slapping against his leg with every other step. He made no attempt to stop the annoyance; his mind was on other things. It was his body, and instinct, that led him to a place of refuge, the Peaceful Promenade. Though he had had his fill of walking, he could do with a bit of peace.

Indrid opened the door, allowing a wave of sound and light, both filled with genuine merriment, to spill out into the street. Almost as if these two things were enough nourishment, he straightened the hunch of his shoulders and his silvery eyes took on a kinder light, as opposed to the empty gaze they had held before. He stepped in, pulling the collar of his suit down so that it pushed up against the bottom of his chin. His thin lips curved from a lax contemplative grimace to a small smile and his eyes softened further. But there was hardness about their edges, a tenseness of the muscles that surrounded his argent orbs that bespoke of a tension that could not be released by a welcoming atmosphere.

He shut the door, and answered the hearty welcome of intoxicated strangers with a simple nod, the smile gone. A pleasantly plump maid approached to take his order and flushed when his startling eyes seemed to swallow hers.

“Tea. Black. With sugar.”

He had to repeat it twice before she came to her self and nodded breathlessly. She barely got out a murmur of welcome before he was striding away. She spent a few seconds thinking about things that may have been inappropriate, even for someone of her age, but she remembered duty with a shake of her head and hurried off to deliver his order.

Indrid weeded his way through the mess of tables, occupied with a variety of races, segregated company as often as integrated and no difference in jolliness between them. Activities flourished—a card game here, a few tables of dice, each offering bemused moans of regret and exclamations of delight to the general hubbub. No table was empty, and none had fewer than two occupants, and those were the smaller tables. The stools by the bar were filled completely. Indrid had eyes for only a few of the tavern’s patrons. Two sat in deep conversation at a smaller table, one a demon, the other a human. Another two sat next to each other at the bar, one cloaked and shady, the other… odd, with a mesh shirt alone covering his torso. They were the only ones here that seemed dangerous—wolves amongst mangy dogs.

Farther away from the door along the bar, next to the cloaked figure, a ruddy man got up from his seat and staggered his way towards one of the dicing tables, proclaiming loudly that he was now prepared to clean the rest of them out. His boast was met with similarly uproarious counterclaims and the game continued, plus one contender. Indrid hurried to the seat, lest it be taken. In the process, his passed the two at the bar. Unseen by any, but felt by three, the puddle beneath the cloaked one rippled. Its very existence and nature being contradicted by Indrid’s own. The assassin stopped mid-stride, and turned to the cloaked being, a woman, he gathered, now that he was closer. A drop of murky water fell from his suit and landed in the puddle. From it, a viscous crimson swirl spread—blood. Two gloved fingers tapped the woman on the shoulder.

“That puddle underneath you, it’s alive.” His voice was pleasant, but the tone hinged on the edge of death. “But I suppose you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Indrid didn’t wait for a response, but smoothly slid into the open stool. Moments later his drink arrived. Lips met lovely sweet tea, and a sigh escaped at their parting. Finally now, the tension had left him.

[Devin Argente]

"I'm Devin," the pale enforcer replied smoothly. He thought it better not to yet mention his surname. Although the Argente family was not a subject many longed to speak about, the name alone could leave the lips of some with bitter aftertaste; Devin did not wish to make the little demon feel as though he needed to mind his words in current company. Secrets did not spout easily from lips sealed by a sense of vigilance. "And you'd be surprised how little good hanging can do," Devin countered as Jake took a pause to breathe. He vividly remembered a time when the town guard of some unnamed, outback village had tried to hang him. He also recounted the enthralling feeling of escaping and murdering the town's sergeant along the way.

By the time he awoke from the pleasant memory, he noticed that the black-clad man had left them table. He frowned slightly, but his irritation quickly reverted to amusement as he viewed Jake's devlish partner joining the crowded bar at the other side of the room. The place where Devin knew the hooded woman to sit. Watch your step, 't can get wet, he mused, all the while forgetting that the small imp was throwing together a bunch of statements and conjectures that were hard enough to decipher when listened to intently, let alone on the edge between slumber and daydream. "...human nature is more natural than mother nature, if you get my drift," were the last words he perceived. He nodded, returning his attention completely to the conversation.

"It's strange that mother nature would create human nature in such a way that it longs to overthrow its progenitor, yes," he spoke, saving himself the humiliation of admitting he had missed most of what Jake had said. To make up for it, he made sure to grasp every last syllable of the demon's opinion about politics. He was surprised to find out that he agreed. The only difference between Devin and Jake was that the demon nodoubtedly found the political ways of personal gain self-destructive and - to an extent - evil. To the youngest son of a mafia family, such affairs were windows of opportunity, endless sacks of gold. The Promenade's door opened once more, to allow yet another patron into drunken revelry, but Devin did not aim for a closer look, for Jake had spoken several words that required his complete attention.

Little secret?

He could not help but feel slightly paranoid. Was the demon doing this intently? Was the entire conversation a trap? He decided to neglect the mentioning of 'secrets' for now, but scribbled a memo in the back of his mind; for now, he did not want to appear greedy.

"Perhaps," he stated ambiguously as Jake concluded his rant. "But however corrupt our current government is, I still prefer it over leaders that would execute us for their own entertainment," he spoke with a grin. "Maybe I'm prejudiced, but I doubt that many demons would love to chat over a cup of ale in a tavern, like we are doing now. They'd rather... burn the tavern down. No offense," he added - but he was still anxious to learn whether demons were indeed as destructive as most books pointed them out to be.

[Lost Without You]

Farasrian listened intently for inflections, tones, and cues as to the nymph's purpose for taking shelter amongst a storm in it's outset. From what Farasrian knew of nymphs, they cared very little about storms, but rather about what it might do to their appearance. That always struck Farasrian as slightly odd. He had never really engaged conversation with someone, other than human, so vain in their ways to care more about their appearance then their health or well-being, but here we was about to do so. Just as Farasrian began to open his mouth to respond to her butchering of his name, a man swung into the open seat next to the nymph. Farasrian reached his hidden hand into his pants pocket and gripped tightly the steel brass knuckles inside.

Farasrian gave a quick look at the nymph and gently touched her side as if motioning for her to play along for a moment or two. "Honey, I was thinking we should get a room for the evening...care to join me?" Farasrian knew she'd want to exit as quickly as possible, and having someone give her a clean exit was just what he did.

On the other side of the room Jake had listened intently to what the man had said from his name to the comment on hangings. It had struck Jake as odd. This was the first human that Jake had ever met that actually seemed somewhat genuine in his desire to carry on a real civilized discussion. Jake relished in the thought for a few moments before engaging once again in the depths of political propriety. "Devin, you said it was," the little demon wanted to ensure he had the name correct for appearance's sake, "Something you will learn about demons from my sect is that we aren't the rough and tumble types. We prefer to engage the tavern in civilized discussion and banter before any thoughts of recklessness comes to mind. We'd rather seek the gain of knowledge than of fear and brute strength. Take me, for instance, I sit here with you discussing matters of government and political foolery and am rather pleased to simply spend an evening relegating in the delicacies of that which has befallen our beloved Corone and the other outlying provincial continents."

"Perhaps you are right, but I've found that the tyrranical rule of one who is seeking entertainment via the deaths and tortures of others is actually one of the most intellectually depraved individuals. I once knew of a king of one of the many outlying provinces by the last name of Ar...," he fished for the last name from his memory but came up decidedly blank, "something or other that sat upon throne only by the blood of his father. As he ruled he found a need to slay and torture merely for his own personal enjoyment. Well, I happened across this king in my youth and we engaged in a much similar discussion as you and I are taking part in now, and his responses to my questions regarding things of the world with which we lived left a very bitter taste in my mouth. You see, he was out for the one thing which humans will never achieve...life everlasting. It is something that a very select few humans have ever understood, and even still fewer have mustered up the courage and if you pardon my manners, balls, to go out on quests of many lifetimes to find. It is the one thing that eventually brought the ruler to his knees a mere few years later begging for mercy. Tell me, sir, why do humans seek such a thing as immortality and in the same breath fear the very thing that brings it to them, death?"

The demon knew the question was loaded, but he also knew Devin could not resist such a tempting subject. It was all a game being played now, on both ends. Jake and Farasrian had played the game so well so many times before, but never with players such as these. The nymph and the man, while unsuspecting, seemed to have an air of sageness about them, which did throw a curveball into the mix. Nonetheless, the two continued to play their individual instruments at the behest of the entire orchestra around them. Soon their tales of past lore and present success coupled with their future amibitions would lure the two newfound friends into a feeling of security, which truth be told wasn't too far off. Out of the many different pawns the two had come across, only two ever died during the actual journey, and one of those grew sick from his own vanity and greed. The chances of either of the two currently on the docket dying before they found their gems of fancy were on the scale of highly improbable and quite possibly next to none.

[Point Soulularity]

Relaxed by the feeling of hot tea swirling down to his stomach, Indrid allowed his ears to float on the rise and fall of mixed conversation in the room. The motion of this sea put him in a lackadaisical mood. Even so he didn’t miss the tones of the odd man who engaged the attention of the cloaked woman. His lack of insinuation to go along with his words made them bland and meaningless, which meant that the person to whom they were directed was supposed to take them at face value. How considerate, the man was giving her a dodge. But the assassin wondered just how far they would be willing to play this little charade if he pressured them. He guessed it was a good thing for them that his tea was occupying the majority of his attention. Not enough though that he missed the fascinating story of the demon. Having quite an association with death and the dealing thereof, he decided to join. A good philosophical debate would be just the thing to occupy his time until he had to return to business.

Taking his tea with him, the black clad man took his leave of the bar. He strode over to the table—careful not to hit anyone with the sheath of his weapon. Setting his tea down with a small plunk he sat down. The gaze between the two was broken as they both turned to regard the newcomer. Indrid forestalled any reprimand for his disturbance of what was undoubtedly an engaging word joust by introducing himself.

“My name is Indrid, and I overheard your conversation in the manner of a person who lacks one to engage his attention.” Simple, succinct, and it assured the two that he had not been intentionally eavesdropping. In the moment he allowed his overture to sink in, the assassin took the time to observe what he hoped to be his intellectual companions for a time. The demon looked like most demons he had seen before—red skin, horns, though they looked to have been sawed off, and a general clever air about him. The other caught his attention far more. There was a tension in his neck, almost as if he was straining to simultaneously flick his gaze about and avoid such an overt display of paranoia. His eyes were similar to Indrid’s own in the sense that they held infinity of control and represented a dead plain for emotions. His over-all appearance tickled the back of Indrid’s memory, but for the moment he put it away to be examined later.

“I am quite familiar with the condition of which you speak,” he directed his focus back to the demon. “But I find the condition to not be just limited to humans, it’s merely more concentrated. Humans, you see, fear the unknown in general. A great philosopher I read from, once described a parable that is perfect for this subject. He told of a cave where a hundred men were chained in individual alcoves—unable to see each other, but able to hear. They were fed and watered once a day, and saw none of the outside world. One day, one of the men slipped through his shackles. After hours of experimentation and courageous exploration, he escaped into the world. He experienced many things in the year he spent in the world, both beautiful and horrible. But he decided that it was time to let the others in the cave experience this for themselves. He returned to the cave and killed the keeper. Taking the keeper’s keys he freed the others and forced them out of the cave. He presented a great feast before them in a gloriously sun-filled field just outside the cave. In a great terror they tore him apart and fled back into the cave. They were found in each of their alcoves, holding on to their chains—shivering at the vision they had seen.”

He finished his story on a grave note. Before the others could tell of their interpretations, he continued with the meaning of the story. “It shows that man cannot be put on the path, he must find it for himself, or be led by an invisible hand.”

Indrid wondered if the hidden meaning would be sensed by the demon, but he left it as it was. There was no sense in removing the challenge. Besides the tickle had returned. He decided to give heed to it, as it was stronger than before. It was the slant of this man’s nose, the cast of his face, the color of his hair. He had a familiarity about him that was like a puzzle that lacked one crucial piece to throw it into a relief of recognizable form. That he lacked that piece needled Indrid viscously so that he was sent into a mental frenzy. It didn’t show in his face other than a sharp concentration on Devin’s face, but he was desperately searching for something that would put that piece in place. With a great deal of mental fortitude he broke his stare and instead turned it to his tea. It had cooled to a less than scalding heat, so he took a long draw. The rich bitterness cleared his head, and gave him a clearer mind. He decided it would be best to avoid familiarity. This was, after all, just a casual conversation.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla's head jerked around at a tap on the shoulder, then she reached up to quickly pull her hood further down as the man who had touched her spoke. His voice sounded smug, issued smoothly from below silver hair and a face that would have made a Siren jealous. He stepped away before she could respond, but Twyla's attention had already turned to the Elemental beneath her seat.

Way to give yourself away, moron.

I didn't move, the dragon protested. He must be some kind of . . . detective who can sense all forms of life.

Shut up. Now the devil's going to know about you and start asking questions.

Her eyes moved back to the pale man at her side, noting with dismay that he seemed tenser than he had before. His eyes had followed the grey-haired man, but now they flickered back to her and he reached out a hand to touch her side.

"Honey, I was thinking we should get a room for the evening...care to join me?"

Twyla blinked in surprise. Not much of one for small talk, is he?

He's not soliciting, he's trying to help you.

Yeah,Twyla snorted. Out of my clothes.

That guy with grey hair posed a threat, so he's doing what he can to rescue you.

By taking me to his bedroom?

He’s pretending to be your husband, the Elemental patiently explained.

The nymph wrinkled her nose at the idea and then quickly considered her options. She could sit here and mope for the rest of night with only a puddle for companionship, confront the silver-haired man for calling out her familiar, or accompany the devil and see what tricks lurked behind that “helpful” pretense. Twyla smiled.

“What a splendid idea, my love,” she cooed loudly, waving one hand inanely through the air. “How did you know that I was getting so very fatigued? You’re such a sensitive, wonderful man.”

Let’s go, snake. Try to be at least a little subtle.

She stepped down from her seat stood a moment with legs slightly bent so that the hem of her purple cloak brushed the ground. Taking a moment to needlessly smooth her sleeves, she stepped away from the bar when she felt the cold wetness of the Elemental twining up her leg. It soaked into her robe and seeped back to the small bag she carried beneath her cloak before coalescing into the solid state of a minute dragon. Twyla was fairly certain that no sign of the dragon’s journey was detectable by any who didn’t feel the liquid moving through their clothes, but when she turned expectantly towards the devil behind her, she watched his face carefully for signs of having witnessed the journey. She glanced at the chair where the silver-haired man had seated himself and saw that it was now occupied by another, far uglier human.

Where’s the detective?

Talking to the demon and the man who stepped on me.

Twyla rolled her eyes. Coincidence? She was beginning to think not. Her eyes were wary as she eyed the devil, but she forced her tone to be as light and flippant as her suspicious mood would allow.

“Shall we?”

[Devin Argente]

The stream of words rolling from Jake's tongue did not recede with time, but Devin did not mind the verbal enthusiasm. Not when there was something to learn. Did the demons live in castes? Sects? Apparently. Admittedly, it was hard to imagine red-skinned, horned behemoths sitting peacefully in an inn, discussing the finer aspects of politics and current events. Then again, Jake had nothing to gain by lying, and the demon's assertions were reinforced by the fact that Devin was actually talking to one right now, so the young Argente felt inclined to believe the imp. He nodded, acknowledging that he was prepared to readjust his view of Jake's race - or at least micrify his prejudice.

After all, false information is a useful tool when properly applied, but not when one does not know the actual truth...

The intelligent fiend resumed his story with a short reminisce of a less-than-sane ruler. Torturing for pleasure? That can't be human. Perhaps it was a demon in disguise... Devin proposed mentally, although he did not speak his mind aloud, for fear of offending the demonic orator. Jake was still speaking. "Ar". That single syllable made the hairs on Devin's neck stand up, his brows twitching for less than a second before returning to their normal, expressionless stature. Only his uncanny composure had stopped him from pulling the wooden handles hidden beneath his sleeves, which would have subsequently spawned triangular steel atop his fists. But Jake did not stop talking - which somewhat reassured Devin that the demon hadn't meant to say "Argente". Of course not. There were lots of noblemen whose surname started with "Ar". There was Arbry, and Ardoy, and... Well, those were all he could think of, but still, a lot.

Just when the imp finished his story and Devin prepared to explain human nature - something he did not altogether excel at - a shadow meandered over their table, wavering in the tavern's torchlight. Devin looked up as the stranger sat down, his mahogany gaze meeting orbs of argent. The man's hair was long and gray, and although the only similar semblance they bore was their pale tincture of skin, the young Argente felt like he'd seen the man before. Somehow, he was on guard - his trained features did not give change away, but the realization that he was feeling insecure without reason was rather troubling. Still, the man had a story to tell, and Devin did his best to follow the long line of words, hoping to discern some kind of quirk, a characteristic that he could recognize. There was none.

Invisible hand? Devin thought as the man named Indrid finished his input.

"Any hand can be simulated to be invisible," he interjected. "The men in your example might have been overwhelmed by the change itself, not by the way it was brought upon them. With caution, any man can be put on a path another wishes him to, if it is introduced slowly - preferably without the target knowing that he or she is changing," he proposed. He knew it to be true; there was personal experience involved. He himself had been manipulated, set upon the road to demise by a necromantic entity without knowing it. The memory sent shivers down his spine. But even when those ceased, something gnawed at the edge of his mind, pertaining both to Jake's mentioning of a king named "Ar..." and the many truths behind the silver glare of a man named Indrid.

[Lost Without You]

Farasrian escorted the nymph up the stairs, ever the while being mindful and watchful of those patrons of the inn who might desire to follow them to their destination. Once they were cleared of all within the tavern and even those within the inns hallways, Farasrian turned to the nymph, "I do apologize for being so brash before. I know it is not in your nature to desire such things, but it had it's purpose." With that Farasrian opened the door to his room and handed the key to the nymph, "Feel free to enjoy yourself in here for a little while. The room is yours for the evening, so do as you see fit," the dark haired seraphim spoke with an eloquence trying to ensure not to break his form. "Oh, and if you need anything, anything at all, I'll be across the hall resting in my friend's room."

The fallen seraphim bowed to the nymph and turned to the door opposite their position. He turned to knob and entered cautiously. Once inside he laid down on the bed and restlessly meandered into a semi-unconscious sleep.

Farasrian had only begun to play the game, but this time felt vividly different. That was an odd consideration being that seraphim's of his sort had no emotions or feelings, not being human and all. Perhaps there was more to Farasrian then even he knew?

Meanwhile in the other end of the inn, Jake had been listening to the two men debating the finer delicacies of the human intellect and nature. He raised his claw gently and unobtrusively to signal for a moment of silence as he spoke, "It seems to me that the most important piece of your mental conundrum is that it deals solely with the human psyche and it's inane ability to adhere solely to one set satisfactory situation and neither change nor adapt in times of distress. You see, my friends, the human psyche is made up of many small unchanging ideals that from generation to generation have never changed. In your example, for instance, it would seem the nature of the caged humans was reverted to that of a creature or beast." Jake waited a moment taking a sip of the demon ale before him before continuing.

"You see, I believe the contrary to be true. We creatures or beasts as you humans prefer to call us, actually have a higher adaptation and, if you will, evolutionary rate. We have the inane ability to adapt in times of great distress or trouble, yet, if we do a psychological evaluation on the human psyche in times such as those you mentioned in your example I believe we will find quite the opposite to be true. Humans will tend to revert to their childlike primative state when confronted with anything that tries to remove them from a psychologically comfortable situation. After all, humans are one of the only races in existence to have a real issue with suicide. Perhaps it's the human inability to see both sides of life, but nonetheless suicide is an issue that seems to only be retiscent in humans. Never before have I seen a race so adept at destroying themselves and so ready and willing to do so without justification or cause." Jake desired to let his words sink in and so he quieted himself for a moment and allowed to the two men to think heavily upon them as he once again gripped his demon ale and slowly sipped a small portion of it.


-------------------------
OOC: Just so you three know I would like to end this in say 7-15 posts(giving us each 3-5 posts or so more)...and then maybe translate this into some sort of quest?

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla's temper flared as she looked down at the key in her hand before turning her eyes to the now-shut door across the hall.

"How does he know what's 'in my nature?'" she muttered in irritation. "And what did he mean by 'enjoy yourself for a little while?' What does he think I'm going to do in here all by myself?"

She wasn't surprised when the dragon in her purse didn't answer.

"Was he making some sort of stereotyping comment about the habits of my race? And I still don't know how the hell he knew I was a nymph!"

Jamming the key into the lock, Twyla scowled and turned into the meager bedroom. It was dark, but she had no desire to see the rustic dwelling in good light. She could almost hear tiny creatures scurrying across the floor. Leaving the door open, Twyla pushed back her hood and ran her fingers through her hair, then took a thin scarf from her bag and wrapped it around the lower part of her face, arranging it to look as though it was intended for ornamental purposes instead of concealment. Pulling the hood back over her forehead, the nymph left the dark room and turned the key, darting a glare at the door across the hall before striding away from it.

Geez. You'd think the devil would be a little more fun. She huffily considered the idea that maybe he had more little demons behind that closed door- females one, even- who could provide all the fun he needed. She pouted as she walked back down the stairs. More fun than a nymph? Not likely.

You have a dirty mind, the Elemental informed her, a hint of revulsion in his voice.

Twyla shrugged and sent a few particularly raunchy images across their link. "Men have to be good for something, right? Why else would we superior beings bother with keeping them around?”

She snickered at his sullen silence and scanned the room when she’d reached the ground level. Her seat had been taken by a thin, greasy-looking woman in a tight pink dress who glanced nervously around the tavern, apparently trying to make her vacant expression seem seductive.

See? Give in to the devil and you lose your seat to a prostitute.

Leave her be. The Elemental could view through Twyla’s eyes, and the firmness of his tone made Twyla wonder briefly if he’d viewed something in the girl that she’d missed.

I’m not going to go over there and bully her out of my chair, snake. It’s amusing to see such a perfect example of humanity. She’s like an animal, looking around for someone to take pity on her. I’ll bet that if she doesn’t find a man to pay for her next meal she’ll end up hanging herself from her own rafters. The nymph smirked. If she can afford a rope, that is.

You’re wrong.

The nymph shrugged uncaringly as she stepped off the staircase to stand beside the banister, eyes still on the woman. Am I?

You don’t understand humanity at all. They’re a people of survival. Their lives are short, but they cling to them with a tenacity that long-living races like ours could never understand. Do you really think she would put herself through the humiliation and pain of her lifestyle if she was seriously considering suicide? Why would she go through all that if she had the hope of something better in the grave?

“Because, worm,” she replied in a loud, demeaning tone, uncognizant of the fact that she was speaking audibly, “even though humans do love their miserable little lives, they fear death a thousand times more. It is not some sort of noble courage that keeps them hanging onto their pathetic existences, it’s a wide-eyed, pants-wetting, soul-clenching terror of the unknown. Humans will do anything to alleviate their fear, and it is this fear, brought on by their short little lives, that prevents them from ever being able to achieve notable greatness!”

Only when she had finished by slapping her hand against the banister for emphasis did the nymph realize that the eyes of nearby patrons were focused on her with a mixture of curiosity and alarm. Heat rushed to her face and it took all of her self-control to refrain from running out of the tavern. No use in looking stupid as well as crazy. Now look at what you made me do. You blew my cover!

You could probably pass it off as drunkenness.

Twyla scowled at the amusement in his voice. Pass off as a drunk? She’d never tasted alcohol in her life! Just the smell of beer was enough to turn her stomach.

Pretend you’re human.

The nymph rolled her eyes and stepped away from the banister, turning her head ponderously and staggering in a crooked circle before faking a misstep that took her back towards the stairs. She lifted one hand to her head and began to mutter in a breathy whisper, sliding down until she sat on the bottom stair with her shoulders resting against the rail, eyes closed and head lowered.

Is it working?

There are a few people who are still curious, but for the most part you’ve been dismissed as a “drunken slut.” Twyla would have sworn that the next sound it made was a giggle. For someone who claims to have never been inebriated, you seem quite the natural at acting so.

The nymph calmed herself with promises of what she would do to the dragon once he was out of her bag.

[Devin Argente]

OOC: A quest is fine by me. Although it'll have to be (or appear) lucrative for Devin, if he is to join anyone.

"Suicide is for weaklings," Devin jeered with a dismissing gesture. "But you have to understand that, with a lifespan of fifty or sixty years, committing suicide after making a grave, life-chaging mistake can actually be an attractive prospect for the hopeless. We don't live long enough to make amends for the wrongs we wreak. Death is an easy way out." As the next generation of a mafia-like organization, Devin knew all too well how desperate people could become, especially in situations of financial distress. However, at such times, Devin hardly viewed suicide as a coward's way of dying, in fact, it was pragmatic, in a sense: if a victim of the family did not kill him- or herself in time, Devin or another enforcer would aid in the lethal endeavor. The victim's death, although deserved, would then be particularly more gruesome and violent. Of course, the young Argente wasn't about to divulge his thoughts to Jake, who appeared to know nothing of the background of his auburn-haired tablemate, much like Devin knew naught of Indrid, or the demon himself.

The conversation was interrupted by a high-pitched voice at a volume that would have drawn curious people from the street into the inn, had the torrential rainfall not prohibited such an event from taking place. Devin turned his head to the stairs, and as he did so, noticed that most of the common room's buzz had fallen still. This did not restrain the woman near the staircase from ranting passionately about humanity and its faults. Devin recognized the robes. It was the woman he'd stood next to a few minutes before, and whom Jake's red-eyed companion had taken upstairs just moments ago. It took a comical pause before she noticed what she was doing. Then, she gave a rather exaggerated show of a woman intoxicated by overabundant alcohol - and it seemed to work, as most men returned to their personal affairs, some laughing, others shaking their heads, and the last few making laviscious jokes about the sexual prowess of the blonde-haired when drunk.

But of course, she wasn't drunk. One is not fresh at one time, then completely incapacitated by liquor a moment after. That meant that she either had a reason to come and scream her hatred out to the Promenade's human visitors - unlikely, seeing how red she'd turned in the face once she realized that there were onlookers. Or... or she was talking to someone. To herself? Was she mentally instable? But her words had bore philosophical truth, so it could not have been a sudden warp of insanity. Schizophrenia, perhaps? It was too suspicious for Devin to pass up. She still sat at the bottom of the wooden staircase. The Argente reckoned that this was his only chance to satisfy his curiosity.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I believe someone needs to be tailored to a soft bed," he spoke while standing up, playing in on the woman's pretense of being drunk. Not awaiting a reply, his long legs carried him through the common room, until he stood at the robed woman's side. Several of his acquaintances looked at him with mischievous smiles, and encouraging shouts were sent his way. Great, Devin thought, give her the wrong impression. Something barged into him. Angriness flared up inside his stomach, but when he turned around to see what it had been, he saw nothing but a drunk, Drow-like frame sulking over to the bar. Still, a stream of mental insults were sent the man's way before he turned to the robed female again. He felt something as he regained his calm. A strange tinge crawling up his spine, right up into his brain, as though his mind was being thoroughly inspected. Although there was no proof that anyone was practising mental magic, he did what he always did. He followed his intuition.

He concentrated deeply, with effort so strong that it nearly fit the painful feeling of conjuring up a hallucination. Within seconds, the entire tavern turned to different tinctures of gray, and everywhere Devin looked, there were numbers. Variables floated through every sentient entity, constants formed the oakwooden furniture. Many of those variables were faded, curly. Drunk. He looked down at the nymph's voluptuous form - which, even without colour, did little to comfort Devin's hormones. Still, his concentration disallowed him stuttering as much as it shielded his mind from telepaths and the like. He bent down and reached out with his right arm, open-handed, but careful not to touch.

"Perhaps, my lady," he said in too monotone a voice to be speaking to any woman, "it is better if you returned to your room. I don't need to read minds to understand what some of the people here are thinking when they see you sitting here, so helplessly." He put special emphasis on the mind-reading, if only to see whether she was truly guilty of such an act, and on the helplessness - because that was a thing he doubted. Her slate frame was vivid with innumerable variables - Devin new that she bore a life that had experienced much, and would have to bear much more in the future.

[Lost Without You]

"Ahh, yes, I see what you are --" Jake was interrupted by the high-pitched wail of the girl that Farasrian had escorted upstairs. Where's Farasrian, and why is she back down here? the demon thought to himself quietly. He slid out of his seat after Devin had gone to the nymph's aide and made his way around the back. He needed to speak with Farasrian and quickly. The little demon scurried up the stairs at the back of the inn, out of sight and out of mind for the time being. He slipped beneath the door and checked quickly around the hallway for any who might see him. Noone. He was clear.

Jake quickly slipped into Farasrian's room only to find him quite in an unconscious mode. The demon shook his head as he began to wonder aloud, "Why did I let you go off alone, Rian? Why?! That damned nymph killed you, and now I have to take revenge on --", Jake was interrupted by Farasrian rolling over and wiping his eyes saying, "Jake, shut up. I'm fine. I was sleeping." The demon gave a glimpse of a quick smile before it erupted into a fit of anger.

"Rian, do you know where the nymph is right now?" Farasrian nodded his head in acknowledgement, "Right now I expect her to have made a fool of herself downstairs back in the tavern. Am I right?" Jake just stared blankly at Farasrian. How in the hell does he do that? the demon wondered. "It's a gift," Farasrian startled Jake with his reply. "Ok, Rian, I told you before. Don't do that. It freaks me out," Jake stated rather nervously. "You know you have nothing to worry about with me. Let's go back downstairs and keep an eye on the nymph and that Devin, fellow," Farasrian said just as he was getting himself up out of the bed and making his way to the door. Jake followed suit in his rather bouncy way.

Just as they began to open the door Farasrian heard voices just down the stairs a ways. He paused and held up his hand. "Wait, the nymph is talking with Devin? That doesn't fit into the plan," Farasrian exclaimed through a whispered hush. The demon just shook his head silently. Farasrian couldn't afford a wrench this large into their plan. Quickly he slipped out the door and quietly he made his way to the top of the stairs. Farasrian motioned for the demon to come close. Through nothing more than a whisper Farasrian gave his orders, "I'm going to go down the stairs and get the girl back up here, minus one Devin, and you need to get back down there unnoticably and entertain Devin while I do my thing with the girl. Got it?" The demon nodded as he scurried off the other direction and out the back door.

Farasrian hesitated a moment as he listened in on what the two were saying. It hit him then. She wasn't talking with Devin at all. He had just approached her. Now was his chance. Loudly he exclaimed as he sauntered down the stairs, "Oh, why thank you sir! You found my wife! I was oh so worried about her! See, she had a wee bit too much to drink this evening and I guess she's not used to such effects of the sweet-tasting ales. If you don't mind, I'll just escort her back to our room and help her rid herself of the aftereffects," Farasrian looked only once into the eyes of the nymph. The look he would receive would speak loudly to what he expected to be more disappointment. He didn't hesitate to wait for Devin's response.

He swooped down ever so carefully and slid his arm to the back of her leg and his other behind her shoulders. He lifted her up off the stairs gently, or at least attempted to. If he was successful he would just carry her back to her room, and this time, he was inclined to join her. The secrets he wished to bestow upon her were many, but she needed to cooperate first. Just then Farasrian heard Jake shout loudly from the other side of the tavern, "Yes, I remember now, the King's name was Argente I believe!" The demon shot a quick glance at Farasrian and the seraphim of the dark knew what evils the demon had planned for Devin.

The two were once again playing a quite tangled web of deceit and mischief, but like always, the players felt the need to play dirty, and so the two were forced into revealing bits of their hands prior to their desired points of revelations. It was as it was, though, and so they did what they had to. Their course of action had been made clear by the two players of the game. With any luck, in a mere few minutes both players of their game would be sucked into secrets of wealth and lore, and soon, the four would be on the quest of many lifetimes. Except this time, the two had a strong feeling, would be quite different. Perhaps this time they would succeed...

EDIT - OOC: Just a heads up to those who still want to post. Maybe one or two more posts each, and then we split off respectively to begin to intro the BIG quest. Nymph, please either PM me for my S/Ns or just contact me that way, and Devin, you too.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Great. Now what do I do?

The Elemental didn’t answer; its attention was focused elsewhere. Twyla tried to peek from under her hood, but all she could see were the men who sat nearest to her, and they were all consumed with the ale in their mugs. She heard bawdy cheering and hoped that whoever was being applauded wouldn’t try to get to a bedroom by way of the stairs she was sitting on.

Guess the whore won’t be buying that rope tonight after all.

I don't think the catcalls are for her.

The smirk on her face dropped suddenly when a hand appeared in front of her, palm upturned as if offering assistance. Her eyes traveled from the pale arm down to dark pants and then up to a white shirt and a piercing gaze that made the nymph wish she was wearing a real mask.

Who the hell is this? She demanded of the dragon.

He’s the stepper, the Elemental replied in a confused voice, and I think he has some sort of mental shield or something. His mind is . . .

Twyla blocked the dragon out as the man spoke, his voice disturbingly somber and his words obviously meant to convey a deeper message that the nymph failed to grasp. The idiot thinks that I’m the freaky telepath. Thanks a lot, snake. And what does he mean, “helpless?”

Opening her mouth to spit a vicious retort, Twyla was interrupted by a smooth voice that came from up the stairway behind her. She turned incredulously to look at the devil as he descended and wasn’t at all surprised by how convincing his acting was, seemingly genuine despite his ominous appearance.

Didn’t he say he was going to take a nap across the hall? What’s he doing back down here?

I don’t know. The dragon’s voice was worried. I don’t like this, Twyla. Can we just leave now?

She ignored the Elemental’s plea. This was too complex a situation to run away from. It required logic and analytical skills that were surely beyond the capabilities of any human in the room. And if she were to record the dilemma later, what good would the story be without a proper conclusion? But he had come out of the room after her. Or had he been on his way out without knowing that she was down here? Either way, his actions seemed somehow slighting, and even a subtle snub was more than she was willing to take. Twyla turned her angry gaze onto the devil as he drew nearer, blue eyes narrowed as she opened her mouth beneath the veil to tell him what she thought of his "husbandly" concern.

Unexpectedly, the devil didn’t pause for a response. Before she had fully understood his intent the man had bent over and scooped her off the staircase, gracefully returning to an upright position with the shocked nymph in his arms. Her skin tingled at the thought that the torso she was leaning against belonged to the bona fide devil, that the warmth that seeped through her robes might have been initially kindled in Hell.

Did he just . . ? The paralysis of shock wore off. Relieved though she was that her bag was carried beneath the arm that was away from the devil’s body, the nymph’s face flushed bright red at the indignity of the devil’s hold. Her mind was cringing at the thought of the human audience below that was probably rolling around in brainless amusement at her predicament. She furiously twisted her upper body and jerked her legs down, shoving her elbow against his ribs to give herself leverage as she disentangled herself from his arms. She was hurriedly thinking of ways to regain her dignity when her feet landed on the edge of a stair and, instead of granting her the stately pose of self-sufficiency that she had been aiming for, pitched her face-first towards the man at the bottom of the staircase.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been siting for over a month and a half. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to the Peaceful Promenade.