The First Whisper [OPEN]

This was not what she had expected.

Melaina was careful to continue moving, her body twisting like the turn of a tide, her hands weaving like kelp in the water. She moved through the tavern as a shark through the waters, with an ethereal grace that did not quite belong but was too alluring to cast aside.

For the most part, the crowded inn seemed to ignore her as part of the basic structure of the place, which was fine. They were subconsciously aware of her, and more than one had tossed a coin or two her way as they left. She would have enough to pay for meals for the next few days, at least, especially as she didn't intend to stay here tonight.

The inn was filled with people. Corone, she had learned, was a potluck of races. Dark elves and humans hung about the tavern aplenty, and she spotted a few dwarves here and there, drinking their weight in ale. The Drakari were few but stood out, their draconian features marking them immediately for what they were. The strangest creature she could see was one she had not spied before. They appeared human at a glance, but there was an ethereal shine just beneath their skin that gave them a tantalizing glow, and something like magic danced in their silver eyes. Long silver hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and with her pale skin glowing so, she appeared ghostly.

She ignored Melaina, just as she ignored the other people around her. The only thing that seemed to grasp her attention was the steaming mug in her hand. But Melaina couldn't seem to look away from her, fascinated, drawn. The woman's lips curved up at the edges just slightly, an almost imperceptible smile, and Melaina stared at her face, wondering who she was. Wondering what she was.

"Oy, girly!"

Melaina didn't jump but it was a close thing. She turned to look at the human who had called out. He was staring at her, his eyes rheumy with drink, his cheeks red and glowing. Drunk as a drowned lamb in her seas, but he had a couple coins in his hands and tossed them at her.

"Sing us a song, love." The coins made their own music as they hit the ground at her feet - a music she could dance to all night.

Melaina gave an elegant bow in acceptance and spun, twirling her arms around until they reaching elegantly for the ceiling. She paused a moment, letting the silence draw the attention of the tavern, and it quieted in response. She felt the tingle on her lips as she called forth her born magics. She opened her mouth and let her Siren Song free.

"She was a creature born of the sea,
Silver fins dancing like light.
She was a creature who swam far beneath
Where human eyes can reach - day or night.

She was born of the tides, fierce, full of rage,
Their crash and pull like the ticks of a clock.
But she knew the sea was but a big cage,
And the tides were her key and her lock.

She could swim forth from the sea, she did think,
If she was clever and quick as a seal.
She could pull herself out of the depths of the drink,
If she and the sea made a deal.

She would look back forever and long
At the sea that had once been her home.
Her love for it would rise forth in every sung song,
And she'd miss it wherever she roamed.

The sea made her promise and so promised her
That yes, she'd swim beyond the shore,
But no matter how far she moved from the stir
This would be a burden she'd bore:

The sea would call out to her - "come back to me,
For I am home and safe haven and life."
But she would flee, running, on fins turned to feet,
As vagrant as an alewife.

She would run upon grasses and stones and flat lands,
And she would call no place ever her home,
But her feet would ache forever for the heat of the sands,
And perhaps one day she would cease to roam.

Go back to the sea from which she was born,
Go back to the waters of life.
Go back to the place her heart did so mourn,
Go back to a time before strife."

Melaina turned her final twist into a slow bow, letting the silence of her song's ending carry over the tavern until it was interrupted by the clink of coin on the floor at her feet. She watched the pile of funds grow as her Siren's Song burned in her throat, begging her to sing more of the sea, but the daresn't test her boundaries. Already this place was too filled with emotions, people angry at one another - a conflict that had not yet come to a close keeping people at odds. But for the moment, they were hers to have, together in their admiration of her, and she gave another gentle bow, accepting coins from the hands of drunken admirers.

"An interesting song that tells an interesting tale."

Melaina turned, startled. The silver-haired woman with the ethereal eyes was standing beside her, watching her closely. She held out a hand and, without really thinking about it, Melaina took what she offered. "What a pity the part about being born of the sea is a lie."

And then she was gone. Not walking away, not slipping into shadows, but gone. Melaina stared at the spot she had stood a moment ago, then looked into her hand.

The woman had handed her a coin, but it was not the silver or gold of those that covered the floor, but made of a soft green glass, translucent and shining. Melaina might have accepted it as coincidence, or perhaps a coin passed to the silver lady if not for the fact that this was a unique piece. And one that Melaina recognized.

I regarded the bite-sized songstress with nothing more than an arched eyebrow as I pulled another swig of watered-down piss from my glass mug. Hype, on the other hand, was squirming around in her chair, unsure whether to fawn over her from our little corner of the tavern or approach her and try not to break her in half with a hug.

"That was wonderful!" she practically screamed in my ear as she excitedly latched onto my arm with her briar-knit hands.

I did my best not to let go of my drink, opting to set it down on the table, where it had a better chance of not ending up on the floor. "She looks a little too young to be here," I muttered.

"Yes, but--" Hyperion looked at the girl, cocked her head as she took in her childish features set into smooth dark skin, and tried to calculate the singer's age. Deciding that she didn't care after all, she pressed on. "--but that song was fantastic! Every note perfect! The lyrics, evocative!"

"I don't care much for music, you know that."

The briarbane shot me the dirtiest look she could muster from behind her mythril facemask, her four amber eyes igniting in anger and disappointment. "But Madison," she argued, her grip on my forearm tightening, "music is a very important tool in communication!"

Great, I thought bitterly as I reached for my glass once more. Here comes another lecture.

"It is a cornerstone of storytelling! Without music, how would great tales of heroes past ever get told?"

"They'd be written down in books, Hype."

Hyperion pressed on, ignoring me. "How would people express their emotions and life stories? Music contains a certain nuance that written words cannot properly convey! To truly know someone, you must hear their voice!" She looked back at the girl, and released her vice-like grip on my arm. I instinctively pulled it away from her, my muscles burning and pale flesh starting to turn red from where she had latched on.

I was having another drink when she made up her mind. "Give me a couple coins."

Ale sputtered around the edge of the glass and fell onto the table as I choked. "What?"

Hype turned back to me, a certain eagerness flickering in her eyes. "I want to give her some money for singing such a wonderful song. That's what other people are doing."

Fuck. Hype was about to make a friend. And when Hype decides that you're her friend, there's no escaping.

Sage curled up into a ball atop of the bed, desperately trying to block out the sound of the loud and boisterous patrons of the tavern. The day could certainly have gone better, so far he had encountered nothing but delay after delay in trying to get to Radasanth, yet he had only managed to get as far as the next town over. A kind man had selflessly offered him and several over traveling merchants a lift on the back of his wagon. A kindly gesture that was ruined when something had spooked the horse and ran the wagon off the road, taking the better part of the day just to get the wagon back on the road.

So here he was in … whatever this town was called, one of the merchants had mentioned its name earlier but Sage could not recall what he had said. Instead he opted to just go straight to the tavern and wait until morning so that he could be off again. That had been the initial plan, except that he had been mistaken as a girl, again, and none of the patrons had believed him when he told them he wasn’t… again.

That had just sent the boy straight up to the room had had rented out and slam the door behind him.

“Idiots” he muttered under his breath and snuggled deeper into the scratchy pillow, but sleep would be a long ways off

Then one of the patrons began to sing, and it was beautiful, almost hauntingly beautiful actually.
It certainly got the boy to sit up out of his cot and listen, tilting his head as the lyrics were muffled by the floor boards. No this he certainly had to go investigate.

Sage left his room behind and made way for the top of the stairs where he was allowed to peer into the tavern proper where he was able to gaze on the one who was singing. “Not human, She looks like she could be a Fae”
He closed his eyes and started to loose himself to the song of the sea, but soon pulled himself back, something was wrong. The boy frowned at the odd feeling of being drawn into the song while also having the sense of something making him weary made him almost recoil as he regarded the odd woman.

“Oh … I see, she is enchanting her own voice” He realised as he took several more steps down and examined the as every single patron he could see had their eyes glued to the woman in some form or another. “Not outright controlling them either, a compulsion charm maybe?”

The song came to an end shortly after, and the patrons all but swarmed her with their coin, in hopes of garnering her attention or just hopeful that she would sing yet another song … ah just what was she singing about again, Sage felt horrible that he had lost himself in thought instead of stopping to listen to the majestic sound.

Feeling a little emboldened, possibly by the residue of the song Sage thought to himself, and more than a little curious at her she had performed such a spell. Natural ability or maybe it was a spell she had learned, either way Sage was more than willing to go say hello and hopefully get into a nice discussion about magic.

He was the only patron at the bar to not have a gold coin in hand when he approached “Ah, Hello there. My name is Sage Ainsworth, and I was wondering” The boy paused to see if he had caught the woman’s attention, and gave her genuine smile “Exactly, how did you just … ah, sing like the way you just did” he said deciding to err on the side of caution, if any of the patrons overheard him and found out they had been loose with their gold due to just a magic charm.

Well … he would certainly lose out on someone he wanted to talk to this day. “The way you manage to get the whole tavern to stop and listen was amazing. If you don't mind me asking that is.”

Alina joined in the islanders’ strange custom of throwing coins at the singer’s feet. She had only a small pile of silvers on the table before her, but she tossed them freely, applauding along with the rest of the crowd as the song came to an end.

I wonder why this performer requires such wealth. Do they not provide her with a free room and food? These islanders do not value their poets as we do.

The Fallieni woman looked about her. Most of the folk she saw looked soft and pudgy, pale and milky. She could hear many conversations, but did not understand the tongue. She knew only perhaps a dozen words in Tradespeak, learned in the time since the great portal had brought her to Corone. She had come as part of an army gathered at Suravani’s Oasis, but the fool that had brought them there squandered their time and she and some others had decided to try their luck in the lush, fertile land.

Alone for the moment, Alina had decided to indulge herself in a local custom called ale. She rather enjoyed the frothy beverage, which felt like a meal in her belly. The half-full mug on the table before her still wore a healthy head of bubbles, and its pleasurable effects had her mind swimming freely.

I should like to perform next, but I do not wish for them to throw coins at me. It may disrupt my balance. The dancer shimmied her shoulders and wiggled her hips, loosening her short, lithe body. She had not found occasion to dance since leaving the oasis army, where she had practiced the ancient Glasswalker art of dance fighting every day.

As the singer moved into a mob of contributing clients, Alina scooped the rest of her silver up off the table and carried it to the small stage-area in both hands. She spread her coins out on the floor, to show the islanders that she required no donations, and then set to dancing. Her feet drummed the floor in time with the swaying of her arms and torso, and then she leaped and spun over and over to the same rhythm.

Some of the islanders ignored her, while others whooped and tossed contributions at her feet. The woman with sun-darkened skin, black hair, and brown eyes stopped dancing.

“No, please.” She said carefully, using her best Coronian accent. “I dance... free?” Unsure of whether they’d understood, she picked up the coins that did not belong to her and threw them back into the crowd.

Melaina tucked the seaglass coin into one of the pockets sewn into her green cloth belt. She bent down and began gathering the coins that had been tossed to the floor, tucking them quickly into pockets and coinpurses before the lure of her song could fade completely and people want their money back. Out of sight, out of mind, as it happened.

She accepted some more coins from pleased patrons, some of them asking for another song, and she wondered if she could get away with singing another quick tune, but she was distracted. “Ah, Hello there. My name is Sage Ainsworth, and I was wondering...” She turned to face the person, her eyes scanning him quickly, but he wasn't bearing any weapons and his face appeared open and curious. At least, she thought he was male. His features were androgynous and his long, flowing hair gave him a feminine appearance, but she didn't think he was a girl.

“Exactly, how did you just … ah, sing like the way you just did?” He broke off, it seemed, before he continued the thought, but Melaina felt her whole body tensing in response to the insinuation. Bad that one person assumed - or realized - that her song was magicked, but worse still if he was overheard. She knew she shouldn't have stopped at this piss-ant little town, but she was hungry and tired. She could have gone to sea, caught a fish and feasted easily enough, but she wanted a bed and feet, not fins. Her song wasn't lying when it said the sea called to her, but she ignored that call as best she could. She was the siren and she would not be swayed.

“The way you manage to get the whole tavern to stop and listen was amazing."

Another dancer had gotten up and begun a leaping, twirling fight with gravity and Melaina took some relief in the eyes of the patrons that turned to her. Less eyes on her if she needed to disappear shortly.

"My mother was a singer and taught me how to use my voice to still a crowd," she told the boy. It technically wasn't a lie, since her mother was also a siren, but if she could twist it so she was in the clear, all the better for her. Not that she wouldn't be leaving this crappy little tavern immediately, anyway.

"Hi!" came a delighted squeal from behind her and Melaina jumped. She took a step back from the boy so she could see both of them at the same time and blinked at the... creature who had come up to her. It - she - was wearing a dress and a mask, but her hands were still twists of wooded vines, so very non-human.

Melaina opened her mouth, though she didn't know what she was going to say, but the creature shoved gold coins into her hands as she chattered excitedly at her. "Your song was so lovely! It was wonderful to hear it! You have to come over and meet Madison and have a drink with us so I can hear about where you learned to sing. It was so beautiful! What's your name, by the way? I'm Hyperion. It's so nice to meet you!"

Melaina looked around, wish she could slip away, but there were too many eyes on her and the viney creature's hands hand wrapped themselves around her wrists. She swallowed hard, trying to think of a song to draw their attention and let her escape, but then the creature tugged on her arms and pulled her toward a table further into the tavern. "Come meet Madison!" she said excitedly.

I am going to die here, aren't I? Melaina thought. She thought about a distraction, any distraction, and caught sight of the boy - Sage. With nothing else coming to mind, she turned on her visual allure. She wasn't very good at directing it, but hopefully the other dancer would keep people's attention and she could get him to follow her. Maybe she could use him as a distraction later.

She was so worried about being pulled further into the inn that she didn't notice the silver-haired woman had returned and was watching her from where she stood next to the door, a bloodied sword held in her hand.

“Oh dear” The boy watched amused as another person came and showered the woman with their attention. “Seems like the enchantment works a little too well” He tried not to laugh, he honestly did. Covering his mouth as he began to snicker at the woman’s situation was certainly the best she could have gotten out of him. Whatever spell she had used had worked just as intended, but now everyone’s attention was on her and he soon realised that his question may have just put her on edge.

“Hey, It’s ok” he said soothingly with a discreet look around the room, and then towards stranger eager to make a new friend and how they clasped their hands ….

“Vines?” Sage stilled as he began to take in the stranger. The mask and dress it wore did well to hide its features, enough for someone like him to completely miss it in a crowd at the very least. Sage had honestly no idea of who or what it could be, it’s hand spoke of a humanoid form but very little else. But whatever concern he had about the creature’s intentions was diminished by the utter amount of adoration that it was expressing towards the woman.

“Odd, very odd Taken in by the song too I guess” He was about to give up on having that conversation when the woman turned to him and did … something.
He had no idea what was going on, it was like her face had just changed, he lost sight of some of her features while other parts were enhanced, he was drawn to the shape of her lips, and the way her eyes gazed at him almost comfortingly. She had become very alluring to him, which was odd because he had thought she was rather pretty to begin with, but now things about her just came into focus differently.

“I, Huh … What?” The boy stumbled as he took a single step towards her and froze in his tracks, his mind awhirl at the sudden change that had come over her. “Another spell?” he theorized and tried to focus on the parts of her face that just didn’t come into focus right. “Must be”

“What is …” He openly wondered as he rubbed at his eyes, frowning as he was unable to shake off the effects that had come over him. The only saving grace that the boy could find was that he was able to recognise something had been altered, and had enough sense to recognise the change. “It’s rather rude actually”

“Can you please stop looking at me like that, it’s very distracting” he said in a hushed whisper that he was sure the woman would hear. He turned away, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He brushed his fingers through his long hair as he fought to regain his composure. “I just wanted to talk”

He turned to … Hyperion, he thought it said its name was, and smiled as it seemed rather eager to pull the woman towards one of the corners to meet someone.

“Oi lass, you came back down!” Sage froze in his steps and turned towards the drunk who had been rather forward about his intentions before Sage had retreated upstairs. “Ah right … there was a reason I was hiding upstairs wasn’t there”

Yeah, no, rather than stay and deal with the man who did not believe he was a boy, he turned to follow the Fae woman instead. “Sing and Dance for us!” the man cried after Sages retreating form and to the woman he had managed to persuade to sing for them before.

“Can you … do a thing to get him to ignore me please” he pleaded the Fae as he got closer, turning a distasteful look over his shoulder at the drunk. “I’ll be your best friend if you do”

I watched in abject horror as Hyperion yanked the short thing by her arm to the corner of the room--my corner, where I sat, where there was an empty chair or three at the table.

No, Hype, don't, please-- My lips twitched, desperately mouthing the words that I couldn't bring myself to speak out loud. We came here for a quiet drink on our way back to our bookstore in Underwood.

The briarbane and her victim were drawing closer and closer, parting the drunken throng before them. I was doing some quick mental math.

I could be out of this chair and back up into my rented room in about ten seconds, on any given night. It would prove a little rough getting through the crowd that amassed on a normal night, but with this being the final night of the work week, it was especially crowded. Coronians loved spending their days off nursing massive hangovers and bar fight bruises.

"Madison--!"

Most of the patrons were still entranced by the girl's song, which meant that they were less likely to respond to polite suggestions to get the fuck out of my way. I would have to forcibly move them, which would add several long seconds to the time I needed to escape, giving Hype a chance to catch up to me. Not to mention, if I jostled the wrong person, I'd probably end up with some hands thrown at me, and I'd be making the wrong kind of acquaintance.

"--Madison!"

She was closing the distance a lot quicker than she should've. Fists involuntarily clenching and unclenching, palms clammy, a cold sweat beginning to form on my forehead, I made my move.

The chair clattered against the back of the wall as I stood up. Eyes scanning the crowd, I spotted a decent line that led to the staircase in which I only risked bumping into three drunken slobs. I rounded the table, ducked to the right--

--and found myself cut of by four amber eyes set in a polished metal mask.

"You didn't have to get up," Hyperion cheerily intoned with a slight cock of her head. "I was going to ask her to sit with us for a bit and share a drink!"

Godsdamn it, foiled again.

My gaze drifted down to Short Stack, who looked just as lost and confused and not-wanting-to-be-here as I was. Now that I could get a closer look at her, something seemed a bit... off about her. I wasn't able to put my finger on what, exactly... But there was something weird and different about her.

I tried my best to put on a kind, welcoming smile, but my face felt like it was contorting into something eldritch. "It's nice to meet you," I lied.

Hype took the girl's hand in her own, and vibrated excitedly. "We thought your song was very lovely indeed! Come, take a seat! You must tell us more about it!"

Too long had passed since Alina last danced. At first she felt stiff and mechanical, like a glass mannequin catching the sun. But as she dipped and moved and her muscles loosened she became a sparkling grain of sand tumbling down the dunes. She stomped and swayed, leaped and twirled, all to the musical staccato of her drumming feet.

A smile blossomed across the Fallieni woman’s face as memories of her homeland flashed through her mind. When she looked out over the audience, rather than dozens of prying eyes she saw the sparkling glassfields of Nirrakal stretching before her. Each time she leaped she imagined settling to the ground on a precipice between two sharp shards, as she had done so often in the past. Her momentum carried her through a chain of corkscrewing jumps until she settled at the center of the stage-space in a deep bow.

Cheers and applause greeted her, as well as another wave of gold and silver thrown by the onlookers. Alina flinched at first but then a smile of understanding found her face.

This must be their custom… rather than letting the roofmistress or clan chieftain provide performers with room and board, everyone contributes. How intriguing. Although she felt more comfortable with the custom, having figured it out, the dark haired young woman still blushed a deep shade of vermillion when she bent down to gather the coins off the floor. It made her feel like one of the tramps she had seen sitting in Coronian gutters begging for scraps. The lands of Fallien would not tolerate such weakness.

As she finished gathering the silver and gold and stuffing her pockets full, the tavern’s front door flew open. Two sun-darkened men in loincloths and leather codpieces strode in like stalking lions. They each had the chiseled, sleek physique of a well trained warrior, and moved with the slight bow-leggedness that showed they had been riding for some time. Sweat flecked their bare chests and long dark hair. Their coal-like eyes roved the tavern until they lit on Alina, and then glowed hotly.

“Look at this one,” one of the riders commented in a Fallieni dialect native to Suravani’s Oasis, “she abandoned her duties, and now finds herself scraping coins off the floor for survival.” He scratched the long scar running down the side of his jaw and curled his lip in distaste.

“She is a deserter,” the second rider said scornfully, and spat on the sawdusty floor, “she deserves nothing more than to live in the gutters.” He whipped his head around, long braid flicking over his shoulder.

“She would deserve such a shameful life,” the scar-faced rider replied, “were we not duty-bound to bring her back for punishment. Don’t run now, deserter. If you do, we will tie you across the back of my saddle.”

They descended on her like two birds of prey dive-bombing a viper.

“No!” Alina cried. She struck the first man square in the nose with a flexed palm and aimed a kick at the other’s groin. They powered through her feeble attacks, laughing as scar-face grabbed her beneath the arms and braid-man gathered her legs.

The Fallieni woman writhed and squirmed as they bore her toward the door, but to no avail. She did not think anyone else in the tavern had understood their conversation, and she did not know the Tradespeak word for ‘help’.

The three of us were just taking our seats again when an all-too-familiar noise broke out near the center of the tavern.

The crowd cleared the area as two men, clearly not from the area based on the loincloths they wore, were assaulting a third. The victim, also oddly dressed, was doing her best to fight back but was quickly overpowered. The men quickly subdued her, grabbing her by her hands and feet and lifting her off the dirty wooden floor. It was readily apparent that this was going to turn into something more.

Normally, I would just keep my head down and stay out of situations like this, but...

"For fuck's sake, can I just spend one quiet evening in a tavern without a fight breaking out," I grumbled. "Just one?"

I pictured in my mind's eye a pair of small obsidian spikes. Each one was about six inches in length, their ends splitting off into a trio of barbs that could hook into a surface and stay there, requiring some major surgery or idiocy to try and remove. All along the shaft of these spikes, the edges were jagged and torn, able to rip and tear flesh with even the slightest of jostling.

With a mote of grim satisfaction, I pictured these implements of pain and suffering ramming themselves into the groins of the dark-skinned woman's assailants, pinning their meat and veggies to their legs.

And then it was so.

The two men immediately dropped the dancer and fell to the floor, their pained screams filling the room as the writhed in agony, only worsening the damage from the obsidian shards embedded in their bodies. I made sure to hook the things into their femurs, for that extra special torturous touch.

Hype caught the glint of anger in my eyes, and rested a briar-knit hand on my forearm. "My good deed for the day," I muttered as I plopped my butt back down in my chair. The briarbane knew well enough to drop the subject, and took her seat as well.

It wasn't long before an icebox of a man removed the two dark-skinned attackers from the establishment, a barmaid produced a mop to clean up the little amount of blood that was spilled, and everything was back to normal. The dancer frantically looked around the place, panic in her eyes. She had just been attacked, and out of nowhere whatever plans those two scumbags had for her had been abruptly cancelled? Yeah, I'd be confused too.

Seconds passed before the she made eye contact with me. I held her gaze for a long moment, offered her a knowing nod and a wink, and proceeded to finish my drink.

The commotion near the door drew Melaina's attention, as it did the others', and though she didn't slip from the grasp of the vine creature, she turned toward the door. Two men were trying to carry out the woman who had been dancing, the panic in her eyes palpable, and she felt the need to assist rise like flood waters to her core. She stiffened, her magics writhing, and prepared to release her allure in full force, no matter that it might bring the whole of the inn down upon her head in fervor.

The sudden fall of the men startled her and she lost her hold on her magic. The spark of her allure flashed once, too dimly to attract far away eyes, and she stared at the writhing men on the floor. It was only because she was searching for answers that she saw the subtle nod and wink toward the dancer from the... Madison, the vine creature had said.

Melaina relaxed, moreso than she had that whole night. She turned back to look at the men again, a final check for danger, and that was when she saw the silver-haired woman. She was standing in the doorway, bloodied sword in hand, dangling the blade above the floorboards like a waiting death to fall on any unlucky enough to be beneath it. The woman had locked her eyes to Melaina's and she felt her breath catch in her throat. Blood ran down the length of the blade but, as she watched, none dripped to the floor. She looked around, searching the other patrons, but none took notice of the woman and her bloodied blade. It was like she wasn't even there, yet Melaina could see her plainly. She looked back to the doorway.

The woman was gone.

Melaina let out a breath and stumbled back, her hands shaking in the grip of the vines - Hyperion's hands. Was she going mad? Or was this perhaps exhaustion creeping on her senses? Her fingers reached inside her coin purse and touched the smooth seaglass of the coin the silver-haired hallucination had given her.

She sat down abruptly in one of the chairs at the table she had been dragged to, feeling weak and confused. "I think I'll take you up on that drink," she murmured weakly. She waved a hand for the bartender. A heavy drink of whatever she could get that would make her forget whatever madness lurked in her mind.

Her fingers brushed the seaglass coin. Or something more than madness, perhaps. She thought of the bloodied sword, dangling, waiting. A warning of danger, of something to come.

"Three, in fact," she said, and waved at the bartender more fiercely as she upturned one of her coin purses, dumping silver and gold all over the table. "I'm getting everything I can with this. What do you want?"

Whatever glamour spell the fae had used, Sage was still trying to pick it apart from within. Cautiously watching and studying how his perception of the world was distorted and how it all seemed to lead back towards the fae who he was sure had cast it. Under a more controlled environment, Sage would have been all the more willing to volunteer his services to study the effects of such a spell.

He hoped to one day become more than proficient with magic so that he could learn or create his own spells. And knowing how the effects of Glamour spells worked from first-hand experience would certainly be invaluable. But here and now, the situation was less than ideal.

The effects of the allure lessoned a considerable degree when the two men had stormed into the tavern intent on making hell for the foreign dancer.

“Wait, a dancer, when did anyone start …?” Sage cursed the effects of the spell she had placed him under. He watched the growing commotion between the Dancer and the men in concern. As was everyone else in the tavern, he was ready to either retreat or to intervene if things went way too far. He was honestly routing for the woman to somehow gain the upper hand in the scuffle. But then it was over.

Almost as fast as it started the men were down on the ground, clutching at their family jewels in sheer agony that had every man watching wince in sympathy for their pain. Though not by the Dancer, Confusion swept across her face and the fae had been as indecisive as everyone else. “What just happened?”

“Odd” he mumbled with noncommitting shrug, he had not seen what had happened, but with the way those two men had shrivelled into themselves, he didn’t want to know. Still he sought out the fae once more, this time committing himself to find his answers and to ignore whatever passes that the drunken man by the bar was surely to pass his way. He didn’t think a Tavern brawl would stop him.

The allure was gone, he quickly noted the woman’s face had returned to its normal features again, Dark dusky skin with coal black hair. Nothing about it drew his attention to a single spot, and no longer was he feeling inclined to just follow like a helpless puppy either.

She sat heavily in the chair that the creature had been leading her towards looking rather pale. “Had something happened?” He wondered as he looked around, catching sight of naught but the troublemakers being hauled away and the regulars returned to their drinks like it was Tuesday.

No longer compelled, Sage felt as awkward as he should have felt when walking up to a woman as boldly as he had, he should have walked away, return to his room and forget the event had even happened. Should have, if something had not spooked the woman badly enough to upend the contents of her purse for drink. Instead of walking away Sage pulled a spare seat away from the table and briefly caught a glimpse at the other woman who had been the table’s sole occupant. She was a rather severe looking woman, scarred and hardened. Yet he got the distinct impression that as aloof as she seemingly appeared she was also about as adept at social interaction as he normally felt.

“Ah, Excuse me” He said, contemplating if he should wait for some sort of permission from the woman who was friends with the odd enthusiastic plant like creature in a dress, and what sort of dynamic that must make. “Is something wrong?” he asked the fae, his face contorting into one of concern “you look like you have seen a ghost”

Alina scrambled to her feet as the screaming men dropped her. Dark eyes scanned the room in confusion, until they met a deep blue pair looking straight at her. The owner of the blue eyes gave a nod and a wink, and then returned to her drink.

Is this some brand of local magic? Was she the one to assist me?

The Fallieni dancer straightened her leather skirt and corset and wandered back to her table, where a half-full tankard of ale still waited. She glanced back at her maybe-savior. The woman did not look soft and pudgy like most of the well fed islanders. She looked hard and angular, almost like something made by cobbled together iron rails. Almost Fallieni, if not for the pale pallor of her skin.

Alina picked up her mug and took an emboldening sip of the lukewarm ale. It bubbled bitterly in her mouth and all the way down her throat to her belly. She wound her way across the crowded tavern, padding on soft-soled leather shoes. She ducked past reeling drunkards and detoured around tables filled with strange stout bearded beings she had never seen before. Soon she arrived at the table in the corner where four people sat. If they could all be rightly called people.

Her savior wore finely tailored black clothing and had dark enough hair to make the moonless night jealous. A creature composed of writhing vines, wearing a metal mask with holes for all four eyes, sat beside her. Next to them were the singer from earlier and a rather feminine looking boy. One chair remained empty.

Alina waited politely until after the server had departed the table and then stepped up to the empty space. A grateful smile blossomed on her face as she thought about what would have happened to her without the pale woman’s assistance. The Fallieni men would surely have tied her over the back of a horse, although the pain and discomfort of the long ride back to their camp would have been the least of her concerns. She’d have been made to toil at hard labor for months, most likely, or possibly even sent back to her homeland in shame.

The thought did not deserve the instant she gave it. She was free for the moment, free to explore Corone and all the interesting folk that resided there.

The dark-eyed dancer placed her sudsy mug on the table in front of the empty chair and shared her smile with all present. She pressed one palm over her heart, both indicating herself and expressing gratitude.

“Alina Espad’rina,” she said her name with careful enunciation, and then reached out and rapped her knuckles on the table in front of her pale savior. “Good magic,” she said, returning the woman’s nod and wink. She placed her hand on the back of the empty chair and pulled it out, wrapping her mind around the strangely soft consonants of the Coronian tongue.

“I sit?”

I smiled awkwardly at the bronzed woman with the weird accent. Well, it was less a smile and more a contortion of my facial muscles that tried to imply cautious friendliness but ended up as more of a baring of my teeth.

"Sure," I managed to mumble after a few moments, motioning for her to take the seat she already assumed to be hers.

If only I hadn't used my teleportation stone already today...

I mentally kicked myself for offering the woman a nod and a wink after I saved her ass from those two paste-eaters who approached her. That wasn't supposed to be an invite, dammit! It was just supposed to be a quick acknowledgement that not everyone was going to stand there and allow her to be molested. But here we are, making acquaintances when all I wanted was to be left alone!

Fucking hells, next time I'm just renting a room and taking my drinks there.

I couldn't help but to give her a quick once-over with my eyes. Alina, she introduced herself as, was most definitely a foreigner. The hue of her skin, the tailoring of her corset and skirt, with all the neat little colorful flourishes in the former, pegged her as a Fallieni. That would explain her stilted way of speaking; she probably wasn't very familiar with Tradespeak. She was very fit, shaped like an athlete or a martial artist, the lines of her muscles defined even in the bright torchlight of the tavern.

And then there was this other little nondescript blond boy--girl? Thing? I don't know. Young and objectively beautiful, almost like a hormonal teenager's dreams made reality; and suitably unnerving. It followed the singer to the table, this lost look in their eyes, a little too enchanted by her work. I immediately wrote them off as someone I could ignore and not miss a single thing.

Finally, you had Hyperion's new friend, the singer. She hadn't quite introduced herself yet, but since she was buying the next round--hey, sure, I'll call her a friend for the night as well.

Thankfully, the briarbane was able to carry enough of the conversation to make up for my silence. She was practically bouncing up and down in her chair, the chains and jewels on her form-fitting robes clinking together as she reached out for the shorter woman's hands. "Please! Tell us more about that song! Where did you learn it?"

“Where did you learn it?” the vine creature asked, her voice eager where no eagerness would lay if she knew the truth.

“All songs have meaning. And there is a song for all reasons that one might come upon.”

“Do I have to learn them all?” Melaina asked, her amber eyes wide in astonishment.

Her mother smiled at her from where she lay resting in their nest. “No, my sweet one. A song isn't something you learn. It’s something that is born in you.”

“Like a baby?”

She laughed now, a bright sound that warmed the seas around Melaina, tickling her skin. “No. A baby takes two people to make. A song only requires you. If you come upon a situation that causes you emotion, that emotion can birth a song. You only have to focus on it.”

Melaina’s brows crinkled as she thought hard over this. “But how will I know that I have a song to sing?”

“You'll want nothing more than to call it out. Or you can sing even if the desire doesn't strike you. If you have a song, you can make others feel what the song was born from. What emotion.” She sat up a little, winning at the movement, but hid it behind a smile. “Let's try it now. Sing me a song of happiness.”

Melaina smiled a wide smile. “Okay, Mama.” She closed her eyes and thought of the things that made her happy.

Melaina blinked the memory away, breaking free of it before she could haunt herself with her own songs, or those that came after. The ones that she and her mother song together. Such a memory would be only hell on her heart and she couldn't bear that now. Not today. Not in front of all these people.

She hoped the flickering candlelight that lit the tavern would disguise the moisture in her eyes as shadows. She cleared her throat as softly as she could.

“My mother taught it to me,” she said, although that wasn't strictly true. A siren’s song was born of their heart’s own emotions. While anyone who heard the song could memorize it and sing it, even another siren, they couldn't cause the same enchantment that its creator could. That was the product of emotion. A siren’s heart was a powerful thing.

The song she had sung had been one of homesickness, a loneliness for the sea that had haunted her since she left it. She had created the song years ago, but the desire to sing it never seemed to wander far. It was constantly in her mind and on her heart, this longing for her lost home. She couldn't fulfill the desire and shake the song to silence, but it could at least make her a pretty penny.

The waitress brought a round of drinks to the table and Melaina reached eagerly for the pint that settled in front of her. Her mind wandered to the woman she had seen standing in the doorway, a vision she’d had before.

Death, she thought tiredly. Death is coming.

What was there possibly left in the world to be taken from her?

With a sigh, she downed the whole drink and waved the waitress for another. She turned to the others around the table. “Right, well, since I'm buying tomorrow’s regrets, let's at least get each other's names so we know who to curse in the morning. I'm Melaina. I'm a traveling bard. I wander hither and yon and wherever I wish and no, I don't do parties.”

Silence was the answer he received, or rather a lack of an acknowledgment. A forlorn look came about her, lost in her own thoughts in response to the creatures own question. It was likely that she had just not heard him, or she was much more taken in with the plant like creature than he initially believed.

“Cute little bundle of joy and excitement that it is, can’t even sit still” he thought with a wry grin, the creature reminded him all too well of his youngest sister. Oddly, the very idea of comparing the creature to his sister felt very wrong, and yet strangely appropriate. Sage dismissed the notion entirely in favour of the tables other occupant.

The dancer was … exotic. Straight from the deserts with nothing but the clothing she had brought with her, and what little she said was spoken with a distinct Fallien accent. She was a long way from home, and judging by what she was wearing she had arrived in Corone only just recently. “Was she in a rush, with what she is wearing must be feeling cold in this climate?” She was a stranger in a strange land, he could almost somewhat sympathise with her plight. But he wondered what had brought her to a place like Corone to begin with. Did she have a connection with those men, or was she just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At this point it was all speculation on his part, he was weary about getting himself involved with another incident that could potentially threaten his life. And at this point for all he knew she may very well have gotten herself into some sort of trouble back in her homeland. enough to warrant those two men to come all the way to Corone just to find her? “What were they after? I missed that part due to that glamour spell”

Either way Sage still got the distinct impression that trouble would eventually seek her out in some form or another. Or she was set to go seeking it.

“Hello” he greeted her openly with a smile. He honestly didn’t know what her story was, and there was no sense in making one up for her either, right or wrong no one deserved to be carried away like she almost had. “Everyone froze when those men came and... Well, either way I am glad you are safe now.”

There was something that passed between the Fallien woman and the tables original occupant, a comment about good magic, something else he must have missed due to the spell he was under. “What did you hit me with” the boy mumbled questioningly facing the fae, who was nothing if not determined to purge a years worth of her memories with copious amounts of alcohol. Her offer to take the tables current occupants with her into drunken bliss was quite generous of her.

Despite her willingness to throw a spell on him within seconds of him saying hello.

“I umm, don’t really drink” The boy answered honestly “Even though I live on a vineyard. Apart from a single bottle of wine I once took for myself, I just never really found the time”

Or really develop the taste for it either. The single bottle of wine had been a onetime event that he had not really enjoyed all that much in the first place. And it had taken him away from his books for much longer than he would have liked too.

But so long as they were introducing themselves, he may as well go again for the other two “My name is Sage Ainsworth, and I’m a” the boy paused for a second as he considered a polite way to call himself a bookworm “A sort of scholar I suppose, but I hope to one day become a Mage”

Alina had scarcely finished her first ale when the server brought her a second, whisking the used mug away. The dancer raised her glass to toast the entire table, giving a special smile to the tiny singer who she was fairly certain had paid, and then took a long draught of the bubbly brew. It left a thin foamy line on her upper lip, which she wiped away with a soft hiccup.

These islanders are not such bad folk, she decided as she leaned back in her chair, the cheap wood creaking. Most Fallieni looked down on all outlanders, but Alina had always been curious about them. In her home nation, the word outlander was used ubiquitously to refer to all people not native to Fallien. It had painted a very drab, monotone picture in the dancer’s mind of what such folk might look and act like. The truth could not be further from what she’d imagined.

That one table contained more racial diversity than she’d seen in her entire life on the desert continent, and the tavern at large seemed to contain an entire world’s worth of peoples. The strange snake-headed ones lapped at their drinks and communicated in hisses and guttural sounds. The stout bearded ones drank and roared to one another in the soft tones of Tradespeak.

“Good song,” Alina said kindly, placing her palm on the table in front of the diminutive performer. “You sing? I dance.” She shimmied her shoulders and raised her eyebrows. The ale made her legs restless, they wanted to carry her back to the center of the room to prance and leap again. The Fallieni woman tapped her foot to a tune in her head as her warm eyes washed over her other companions.

The vine-being raised so many questions that she did not have the words to voice. What magic went into keeping such a creature alive? Had it been birthed, or created, like the first hybrids to appear on the shores of Fallien? Were such beings commonplace in Corone? She gazed into the being’s four eyes over the rim of her glass as she took another pull of bitter ale. She knew only one word that could hope to sum up her queries.

“How?” She said in Tradespeak, and then unleashed a torrent of Fallieni chatter. “I don’t wish to be rude, but I find you quite amazing. In my land, I have seen griffins, great scorpions, even Karuku-tal… but never a being composed of plants. I have never even heard of such a thing. How is it you came to be?”

Blushing an even darker shade of bronze, Alina sipped her ale. Was it foolish to speak in her native tongue? Likely so, but the words had piled up within her and needed to be spoken. She looked back at the youthful boy, not wanting to ignore any of her new friends.

“Good hair,” she giggled at him over another mouthful of beer, giving her own dark locks a tug.

Hype's attention flickered between Alina and the singer, caught up between the string of unrecognizable words and her desire to know more about the latter's past. Then, she shot me a pleading look. I gave her a quick nod, and she went back to hearing the tale being told to her.

I recognized the dancer's speech. She was speaking in Fallieni. I should've guessed as much that she hailed from the isolated island nation, given her appearance and all.

My Fallieni wasn't that good, but I was hoping that it would be adequate. I was able to pick out most of what she said in her excited fit of word vomit--she was asking about Hype's origins.

Leaning forward in my seat, careful not to spill my drink, I swallowed my dislike of talking to strangers about something other than business and rapped my fingers on the bare table next to her arm. "You must please do an excuse of bad talking," I began, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't suddenly burst out in laughter. "My Fallieni no are very good."

I considered for a brief moment how I could explain the weird and terrible origins of Hyperion. I couldn't tell Alina the whole truth; it would definitely scare her away, and possibly get me in trouble with the law if I use the wrong words.

"Hyperion plant-human. Briarheart. She forest spirit, like dryad." I searched the Fallieni's eyes for a hint of understanding. "But she not complete. Briarheart former human, make combination with spirit. Heart is plant, combine with flesh. Plant take over body."

It was a hell of a lot simpler and less morally gray than the truth, that's for sure.

Melaina's eyes and ears wanted to be everywhere. She didn't usually spend a lot of time around other people unless she was singing, and usually not closely enough that she learned anything about people more than what she might need to clear their pockets. But despite her reticence in communicating with people, these four creatures were very interesting.

She wished she could understand the language that the foreign woman was speaking, because she was curious about what the vine creature was. She recognized the Tradespeak word Briarheart, but it had no meaning for her and told her nothing but that there wasn't such a word in the foreign tongue for what the creature was.

Beautiful, a part of her heart whispered - the part that longed for far-off places and strange customs. And she could feel the whispers of a rising song in her soul, but she stilled her own desire to cry out.

Instead, finding no answers there and with her having answered the Briarheart's question, she turned finally to the boy who had been asking her about her magic for a while now. She'd been ignoring him, not wanting to give away what she was. Too many people, she'd noticed in her life, reacted poorly when they learned that she was a Siren. She tended to keep it to herself. Even knowing she was only half-Siren, that elusive other half she had never had a name for had cursed her in the seas with the other Sirens, and the Siren half burdened her here on the land.

But the boy was being very polite and it was clear he was simply curious. And despite her having probably very obviously enchanting him and others, he hadn't pulled a knife on her or anything, which was a definite plus.

So she turned to him - Sage, he said his name was - and asked, "Becoming a Mage is a high aspiration. What made you want to follow that path?"

“Thank you” the boy returned, beaming with pride as he pulled at his own locks. The comment did much to settle the boy, as he relaxed back into his chair, silently enjoying current company for what it was. They were strangers to each other, united by nothing and yet here they were, somehow drawn to a single table. It almost sounded like the start to a bad adventure, even now the boy expected someone to barge into the tavern like in one of his stories and announce some terrible news.

And if he wasn’t careful he would be swept away with the commotion and before he knew what went wrong he’d be staring down the throat of something that had more teeth than he did. “But not this night, and not this Tavern”

The boy settled deeper into his seat but perked up when the fae turned to him to enquire him about the lofty goal he was aiming for. “Umm well, Magic is… well, it’s a mystery.”

The boy considered the question, no one had asked him why he wanted to be a Mage before, his family had supported him, but they never had questioned him why he wanted to learn the art of magic. For them his decision had almost been a given.

The boy tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, every magic user I’ve ever read about always had a different way of doing things. Marco the wise would swear by runes, while Whitehall places his faith in incantations. “He explained with a flourish of his hand.

He regarded the fae with an open smile and continued on with his explanation “But most tend to use their own willpower to control their magic. They train themselves to cast a spell in such a specific way that they can make minute adjustments on the fly. This is why someone who is adept at elemental magic can often wield it like a tertiary limb.”

“Even some magical beings have a completely unique method of employing magic.” He added enthusiastically “Kitsune are masters at illusions and they can create their own brand of fire. But a phoenix can immolate itself and raise rejuvenated from its own ashes revived and free of age and wounds.”

He turned his eyes upon the humanoid plant like creature that was companion to the scarred woman, “Some, I believe have a deeper connection to an element than I could even begin to fathom”

At least that’s what he was assuming of the creature, from the fast words spoken before in the dancer’s native tongue he had managed to pick out only one or two words. He assumed they were talking about the creature, which he was guessing to be some kind of dryad. Such a creature proved to be excellent visual aide to the explanation he was trying to give and he gave the creature a smile and an appreciative nod.

“It’s like how all the oceans have a different name. It’s all the same ocean, but it’s different the further you go” he spoke enthusiastically as he steeped his fingers together. “This world is full of Magic, with no real right way of performing it either, I just want to understand it more than I presently do”

“Well that, and knowing a few spells would be quite useful” he added as an afterthought, scratching the base of his neck nervously now that he had spilled his reasons.

Alina batted starlike eyelashes over the sudsy rim of her mug, smiling broadly at her savior’s Fallieni. Ignoring the frequent and rather adorable errors, the raven-haired woman had a firm grasp on the language. Certainly she spoke it better than Alina spoke Tradespeak. The dancer did her best to avoid verbs when communicating in the foreign tongue, knowing she would employ them hopelessly wrong.

“Briar-heart.” She rolled the new word around her palate as she examined the four-eyed being. The being examined her right back. Alina cocked her head to one side, and the masked face followed suit. Alina sipped her ale, and the briarheart did the same. Alina raised a palm and pressed it forward, and the vine-creature mirrored her action until their hands met.

The briarheart’s palm felt cool with damp, viney grooves, but still very much alive. The Fallieni woman gasped and drew her hand back. She did not know what she’d been expecting. A nervous giggle escaped her lips and she took another draught of ale.

“That is amazing,” she said in her mother tongue, addressing both the briarheart and her multi-lingual companion, “so she is a hybrid of human and plant? My land is known for its hybrid creatures. Are you a shaman, or an alchemist?” In Fallien, such folk wore special tattoos and jewelry to denote their station. Alina wondered if perhaps the vest-and-pants were a uniform for alchemists in Corone.

The dancer took another long pull of ale. She had already drained half of her second mug, and a flighty feeling buzzed around her brain. She heard the word “magic” pass several times between the little singer and the soft-cheeked boy, and glanced their way, wanting to join in the conversation but unsure how. Instead she looked expectantly back at the spindly shaman, awaiting a response.

The place to eat is the pub. Unsuspecting patrons milled about and got drunk which makes it easier for me to hypnotize them. So that’s what I was doing. I waited for someone to look my way then coerce them to come closer until they are close enough to wrap them up and begin to digest them. Even better, most of them are fat and juicy merchants. Hahaha! Anyway, it was fourth day there and I had already eaten six patrons.

However, that singer had broken one of my hypnoses with her own hypnotic songs and cost me a meal. I shall get her for it, and possibly relieve James of his, shall I say, frustrations. Hahaha!

I contacted James and asked him to take me to the table where the singer had sat down with four others. I had also given him permission to speak freely save for any mention of my hypnoses. So that is what he did. He picked me up and took me over to the singers table and said, "Excuse my interruption, but do you mind if I sat here with my flower?"

I immediately recognized the flower that the little boy--who should not have been allowed in here in the first place--carried with him.

You don't spend most of your life studying dangerous plants and eventually become one yourself without being able to spot shit like this.

The weed was what is commonly referred to as an enrapture flower, or lure flower. Despite the many and varied color schemes they take, and there are certainly many, they are all of the same species. They have a tendency to lurk around, waiting for unsuspecting passersby in the deeper parts of the forests in Corone. Once something is unfortunate enough to cast it more than a curious glance, it hypnotizes its victim with the multicolored pattern of its petals before dragging them closer with lengths of vine. From there, the plant excrete an unpleasant mixture of chemicals that digests its prey.

However, it's a process that usually takes weeks upon agonizing weeks to complete. Hells, oftentimes the plant will lose interest in its dinner, and leave the poor sod a half-digested mess on the ground before disappearing for months on end, only to resurface with a fresh configuration of petals in a different part of the forest in search of another victim to half finish.

I had also heard tales of the plant assuming a sort of parasitic control over different beings, in order to increase its mobility and ease of finding prey.

I'm in no mood tonight for this kind of horseshit. An eldritch librarian, a Fallieni dancer, a bewitching songstress, two man-eating plants, and a whatever that other boy happens to be are sitting in a bar sounds like the start of a bad joke anyway.

I promptly stood up from my seat, startling Hype. With a snap of my fingers, three obsidian daggers popped into being and fell onto the surface of the table in front of the two women and the girlish boy who had already invaded my personal space.

"That flower is going to try and kill you," I said matter-of-factly, motioning towards the technicolor weed with a flick of my wrist. "Go ahead and cut it up it with these, give the boy a spanking for bringing it in here, and send him home to his parents."

Hype looked at me, then at the plant, at the singer, and back at me. Confusion flickered in her amber eyes.

I heard her jaw working as she formed a protest, but I grabbed her by the arm. "We're leaving, Hype."

Before she could fight back, I hauled her ass out the tavern door and into the night.

Before Melaina could respond to the boy's words and continue what just might prove to be a very interesting conversation, they were interrupted by a new arrival. She frowned at the strange introduction. Why would someone mention their flower? It would be like her asking if she could sit there with her cloak. The slight tingling in her head that had been brought on by the copious drink faded away as her natural wariness of people rose up. She had cast it aside when the briarheart dragged her here, but it came back easily. She was already tempted to retreat when the sudden rise of the table's initial occupant startled her. An obsidian dagger materialized on the table in front of her, Sage, and the foreign dancer, making her jerk back, startled. But the dagger's tip was facing away from her, not a threat, and then the woman began to speak.

"That flower is going to try and kill you."

Melaina stared at the woman's matter-of-fact tone, then glanced at the new arrival.

"Go ahead and cut it up it with these, give the boy a spanking for bringing it in here, and send him home to his parents."

Melaina's brain was clearly still affected by the alcohol, because the woman had grabbed the briarheart and dragged her through and out of the bar, and Melaina had only managed to pick up the obsidian dagger and stare at it. She lifted her head, turning to look for the girl, to ask a question - like what the hell - but she and the briarheart (Hyperion, her mind reminded her) were gone.

But the woman was back. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed in front of her, the silver-haired woman was staring at her. She lifted the sword - bloodier than it had been before - and pointed it at Melaina.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She glanced toward the flower but looked away before she could focus on it, a warning dancing in her mind to get away. It was such an insignificant thing, just a little plant, but this world was so much stranger than the seas she knew so well. She stood up from the table and turned to the mage in training.

"I'm gonna get out of here." She picked the obsidian dagger up from the table and studied it. "And I'm taking this with me." She pointed it at the boy and his flower. "I don't know this land's flowers from its weeds, so I'm going to be nice and not chop your flower up into bits and feed it to the local cattle." Her eyes narrowed into a glare and she let her Siren Song cloud her voice as she hissed, "Do not make me regret it."

She glanced at the foreign dancer, realizing that the girl hadn't translated her warning into whatever language she spoke, and she had no idea what language it even was. Some things were universal. With her empty hand, she pointed at the boy with his flower, then drew a line across her throat in the clear "you're dead" hand signal. Then she turned back to Sage. "It was actually nice to meet you," she said, sounding startled at herself for admitting it. "Perhaps I'll see you again. Good luck in your mage training."

She looked up at the doorway again. The woman was still there, silver of hair and bloody of sword. She stepped to the side and waved a hand at the door in obvious invitation.

Melaina moved toward it, hoping she was actually walking away from the danger and not into it.

The appearance of the boy and his plant startled Sage, the sudden abruptness and the tone of the boy’s voice put the mage in training completely on edge. One look at the boy showed no clear distinctive features, nothing to tell him apart from the rest of a crowd save for the fact the he was carrying a plotted plant… of all things.

“Can I sit here with my flower? Would someone actually ask something like that?” Warning bells rang in his head, feeling a sense of looming danger that hovered over the table like an oppressive fog. His sense of dread hit an all-time high when the table’s original occupant was on her feet in the next instant and placed three daggers on the table along with a warning.

“The plant wants to kill us?” The question rang with curiosity his attention drifting from the woman taking her leave to the potted plant that the stranger had placed on the table. His eyes wondered up the stem, to the colourful red and blue petals, it was so unique in its colouring that everything about the flower seemed to want to draw his attention to the centre. The sensation was eerily familiar a feeling he had just only recently been acquainted with no less.

“Another glamour spell?” Sage tore his eyes away from the petals with a deep breath, worried about what would have happened if he had looked directly into the centre of the flower, and turned his attention back to the stranger with a lost look in their eye for an example. Sage suppressed a gag when he saw how completely enthralled to the flower he appeared to be.

The Fae was the next to get up from the table, seething with disgust as she gave the boy a warning. Not that he blamed her. The thought of sitting at a table talking to an enthralled boy whose little flower wanted them dead was very unnerving. Not one to want to dine with the devil either, Sage pushed his chair back and away from the plant as well, taking the second of the obsidian daggers with him.

Melaina said her farewells to Sage in what he believed to be her most open and honest tone she had used for him since they met. “Yeah, I hope to see you around as well. And make sure to be careful where you sing that song of yours aright?” he said watching her leave, unsure if she heard him.

With a deep breath to compose his nerves, Sage looked at the enthralled boy and the pot the plant was residing in. He could not just leave with the plant left out in the open in the middle of a tavern. If the plant was as dangerous as that woman had believed, and if what he was beginning to suspect was true… all the more the pity that he did not know any fire spells.

There were … Rumours of plants with hypnotising effects like this one, and none of them were pleasant to think of, cordyceps was rather nasty, but was limited to mostly ants and insects. However, this flower gave him the impression of a Venus fly trap, its glamour spell was too similar to the Fae and its brightly coloured petals were an excellent lure even without that. “And it wants us dead, what in the world does it feed on, people?”

“Oh you have got to be … No, shutting this down”

“Hi, I think your plant needs a little more light don’t you agree” It was not even a question and in the next instant, Sage was already holding out his palm with a spell on his lips ‘Lux’ and creating an ethereal orb of light. It was such an easy spell to cast, and one that was simple to control, the orb gently left his palm and floated over to the flower and covered it whole.

There was no damage to be done, nothing offensive save for the fact that it would be akin to staring inches away from a bright source of light, Sage left the orb of light a command to stay exactly where it was in front of the flower and safely obscure anyone’s view of it, secure in the knowledge that the spell would last a very long time. But the use of a spell within the tavern did not go unnoticed either, patrons and the barkeep all halted their banter and talk to stare at the magical source of light and then to the boy who had cast it. Sage stood up out of his chair and pointed to the potted plant at the table with the dagger.

“Everyone!” He called out with a frown. “There is a dangerous plant on this table, It has enthralled that boy and if you look into its centre then you will be caught in its effect as well.”

Three had escaped, including the one I was after. Two had been plants, unappetizing creatures. The older of the two creatures warned the others at the table of my intentions. My target just seemed to be skittish around my boy. The next one to act was the mage. He actually had the nerve to put a bright light in front of my flower. And then he warned the entire tavern of my dangerous ability. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t leave nor would he have a chance to turn around. I lashed out at him as well as at the female that was also at the table. I would get two meals tonight, as well as revenge for ruining my life trick.

Alina could not quite grasp the situation. She picked up one of the strange dark daggers that her savior conjured, because the others had done so. What a strange gift, she thought, examining the blade’s lethal edge. She sipped her ale as three of the table’s occupants stood and left. Where are they going? Should I follow? She stood up, but the plant the strange boy had brought to the table occupied her attention. It seemed rather beautiful, and interesting, and…

The spell broke as the soft-cheeked boy placed a ball of light over the central flower. Alina shook her head and downed the last of her ale in a single drought. She placed the empty mug down on the table and was about to sit when the plant suddenly lashed out with its long vines.

The dancer’s quick reflexes saved her from any harm. She ducked low beneath the plant’s appendages, snaring one of Sage’s ankles and pulling the boy off his feet to keep him out of harm’s way. As she straightened slightly she weaved to the left and slashed twice at the plant’s base with her obsidian dagger, aiming to completely sever its central stalk.

“Bad magic. Follow!” Alina clasped Sage’s hand and scurried out of the tavern, dragging him behind her. They stumbled outside into the crisp night, the Fallieni woman looking about for any sign of her departed acquaintances. Her horse was still hobbled to a nearby railing. The sleek sand-colored mare snuffled as her rider approached, flicking her tail and perking up her ears.

“Moonstrider,” she said the horse’s name partially to introduce her to Sage, and partially just to enjoy the sound. She stroked the long, muscular neck as she unwound the reins from the post.

“What was that?” Sage’s mind sang in confusion, did that plant really try to attack him with a vine. He didn’t think the plant had that kind of capability, the hypnosis was already excellent to make the plant stand out as a predator among other flora, but sentience along with prehensile vines made it something else entirely.

“And me and my big mouth!” he thought bitterly, he was not wrong to want to warn the patrons, if that plant is half as dangerous as it appeared to be then they needed to be told, to be warned. And that was what he did, He let the dancer pull him away from the bar, away from the danger satisfied that those people now had a fighting chance, that ball of light would ensure that it could not hypnotise anyone for a good long time.

“Yeah, bad magic” he agreed, and began to follow the woman earnestly away from the tavern, towards a horse that perked at her approach. Hers, he realised and looked back over his shoulder, half expecting a vined monstrosity to follow after them. He saw nothing, and heard little save the sound of something wooden in the tavern being smashed.

“Time to go” he said with a shuddering breath, partially because of the cold wind that blew across them, and also for his nerves failing him. “Time to really go”

His attention was then brought back to the woman who had saved him from that, whatever that was, as she introduced him to her horse. Moonstrider she called it affectionately, and the mare responded in kind, leaning in to the affection she was being shown. It was rather heart-warming, and under any other circumstances, he’d be gushing over how cute they appeared. The two did wonders to calm him, but he could not forget what was behind them.

“I … She is beautiful” he said honestly, the mare truly was a beautiful creature. It stood tall and proud with powerful limbs rippling as it moved closer to Alina, a cheeky nip at her hair. Was she offering to give him a ride away from here, he did not want to assume but he would be grateful all the same. Getting him out of the tavern was already more than he could have hoped for, but getting away from this town where, that flower was.

He was not sure he would live to see the morning sun if he did not leave the town. He felt embarrassed, again he had somehow blundered into danger and again he needed to be saved. But his shame was outweighed by how grateful he felt at that moment.

“Thank you, for saving me!”

Alina watched the soft-cheeked boy fade into the darkness and then climbed up into Moonstrider’s saddle. The mare gave a soft whicker and tossed her sandy mane.

“I was making new friends,” the dancer giggled in Fallieni. She put one soft-booted foot in a stirrup and levered her lithe body into the saddle. Sitting astride the horse felt as natural as breathing. She relaxed for a moment, remembering all the times she had straddled a horse in the arid deserts of Fallien. The cool, moist night air kept her grounded on Corone, though.

She heeled her steed’s sides and set the mare to a gentle trot along the road. Loose thatch flapped on the tavern’s roof, and the same breeze teased the dancer’s long dark hair.

This is a strange land, with many strange people and customs, Alina told herself as she rode, it was a lucky occurrence to find friends over ale. I should not have let them all away. They might have had much to teach me of this place…

As she rounded a corner Alina spotted the familiar figure of the diminutive singer, making her way towards the nearby fringe of the forest. Alina did not fancy the forest overmuch; she was used to open plains and rolling dunes, not the thickly interlocked trees and plants native to Corone. Besides, as she had recently learned, plants could be quite dangerous.

The Fallieni dancer heeled her horse to a canter until she caught up with the tiny performer. She leaned down from the saddle, extending an open hand toward the woman.

“Ride?” She said.

Judgement Name: The First Whisper
No Judgement

Rewards:

Sage
565 EXP
25 GP

Capoeirista
515 EXP
25 GP

Wander
440 EXP
16 GP

Arthropleura
75 EXP
11 GP

BlackAndBlueEyes
1015 EXP
66 GP

Little Flower
75 EXP
11 GP

Rewards are edited to include the following:

"Obsidian Dagger (iron-strength) given by Melany (BlackAndBlueEyes) to Melaina (Wander), Sage (Sage), and Alina (Capoeirista)."

Obsidian dagger awarded to: Wander, Sage and Capoeirista. Based on a iron dagger, with no magical ability.

All rewards added!