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Cheezeegriff

More Important is the Journey

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Sword and scout for hire. Travel duty. Anywhere in Genesaris.

Such was the sign that sat over Jon's stall, where he had set up in a crowded market near the city's northern gate. He sat with his booted feet upon his stall, next to his helm, and ran a whenstone over his enormous sword, the tip of which balanced on his bootstrings. The ring of steel was washed out by the deluge of activity around him. Creatures great and small had set up shop here, from a gaggle of small furred critters palming off jewlerry like it was stolen, to the naga next to him, curled up behind its stall of magic scrolls and seductively smoking a shisha, the only thing hiding its breasts from the world being a multitude of glittery beads looped around its neck.
Jon tried very hard not to look. People - if you could call them people - weren't friendly around here, and the last thing he wanted to do was tangle with an offended naga. His second pair of eyes scanned the crowds moving in and out of the gate, desperately searching for a human face (and legs) among the throng of slithering, scampering or galloping sapients. Though every time he found one he ducked his head a little lower, for of all the creatures in the world, it was a group of humans who had decided gold was worth more than his freedom.
With a sigh he sheathed his sword, picked up a rag and helm from the bench and started scrubbing. A fesrsome thing it was, with a narrow vertical slit for eyes interrupted by a vertical noseguard, and a mask beneath that, metal lips open as if barking orders across a battlefield. He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed as the northern sun finally peaked over the jagged peaks beyond the city walls, and as thousands flocked past him going in and out of the city gates. Several times he heard the whoosh of leathery wings overhead as a colourful dragon dived down from one of the aeries above. What a magnificent place, he thought.
He couldn't wait to leave, just as soon as he found a paying customer.

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Michelee carefully made her way along the shadows against the walls of the buildings, trying not to draw notice to herself.  Usually she didn't draw attention.  She was small, brown haired and blue eyed.  She had pleasant features, but nothing that stopped males in their tracks.  Now she was a little out of her element, being around so many dragons and creatures that could never be mistaken for human.  She wasn't human either, but she sure looked like it.  Fighting was the common practice here, and if you were human it was almost a given that you had to fight for your right to be here.  She wasn't fond of fighting though.  Luckily, she'd encountered a fighting pair of dragons.  You'd think that was unlucky, but one of them had gotten slightly injured.  With her healing abilities, she'd healed the dragon and had gotten a slight reprieve from having to battle.  Now she was just avoiding being seen, by anyone. 

The dragons overhead swooped down in spiral loops of flight, scaring her as she hugged the wall.  She was not normally such a coward, but the current adventures she'd been in had taught her that danger was everywhere.  She now knew how badly she could be hurt.  And this place did not seem to be conducive to her good health.  She sighed.  If she didn't need the money so badly, she would not have been here.  But she needed it to travel, and when she got it she was definitely moving on. 

 

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There's no feeling quite as intense as surviving. Getting away by the skin of your teeth, heart pounding up into your throat, threatening to spill out with your other guts into a grand pile of bile before you. Feeling the adrenaline as it burns through your body, threatening to set you alight, as if blood no longer ran through your body, but rather it was petrol that kept you going at that point, high-octane fuel that bubbled and boiled all over, every muscle ready to start running, to start fighting, to start clawing and screaming once again.

Then, when all of that faded, what was left? When the fires faded, and you were no longer in danger, but still forced to deal with the aftermath, what awaited you?

For months, Priscilla could have pondered that dilemma while she was facing it in person. But, in that moment, in those months she spent gasping for air in the bottommost part of that airship, she couldn't ponder it. As it turns out, when you're done running, when you're done fighting and screaming, you don't feel relief, you don't feel terror. 

What you feel is tired.

Priscilla had gone months at that point without food, with minimal water. In the events that'd unraveled, she'd been possessed by some uncontrollable, inconceivable force that she could barely comprehend, forced to devour bits of a strange alien ore. In those days, in the waking moments of her possession, she'd been awake for all of it, but unable to act. This brutal takeover, this total rape of the senses, could have broken the woman, and it almost surely would have, had fate not intervened in some way. In the span of a day, she'd managed to not only escape the clutches of her captor, but make a break for her life. Running, panting and gasping as her entire body screamed for her to stop, until she'd come upon an airship. There, at last, she'd managed to find a place to rest. That was fortunate, as 'rest' was all the disheveled runesmith could manage anymore. For literal months she sat, curled up in place, taking little water, little food, the shock of the ordeal too painful to escape, too horrible to relive.

Time whirred past at a snail's pace, and when she finally did come to, she wasn't where she remembered. In her shock, the crew on board the ship had managed to collect her and give her a bed to rest in, and when she was finally strong enough to move, she found to her dismay that she couldn't even thank them for the gesture. They didn't seem to mind, of course; probably just glad that she hadn't died, or been reduced to a babbling mess. Priscilla was simply glad that in her escape attempt, she hadn't drawn any dark forces to their vessel. The haunting reminder of what had happened to her still lingered in the mirror sometimes, and more than once she'd been reduced to sobs after seeing her face.

Because in Athentha, a very similar face had left behind. Her face. Her Shame. Such a horrific revelation was nothing short of that; how could she escape, knowing that such an awful design still walked the world? Yet, Priscilla wasn't a fighter, she wasn't a warrior. She couldn't go back to that place, lest her will break, and she find herself captured once again. No, instead all the runesmith could do was run, and depend on other people for protection, like the coward she was.

Fine. She could be weak, then. What other choices did she have?

The rest of her time on board the ship were uneventful. Finally able to move around and eat, and drink, Priscilla quickly made herself useful on board the ship as an extra hand, earning her keep for the time being. During the last legs of their journey she never regained her lost muscle mass or weight, nor did she recover any clothes more impressive than what she was currently wearing, though they were kind enough to help her trade away her torn and sullied dress for a simple cotton muscle-shirt of sorts, and a cheap pair of trousers. Nothing comfortable, but she didn't have any other choices.

Now, their journey had come to an end. The crew had stopped for supplied in Genesaris, and Priscilla could no longer depend on their generosity. With an oddly warm goodbye, she bade them farewell, and thanked them again. For the clothes, for the food, and for being there when she needed an escape--literally. That was all there was to it, and at last Priscilla was prepared to begin anew. She stepped away from the airship landing, and joined the masses in the streets. It was time to stop being a coward; Priscilla was determined to recover her stolen life.

The runesmith, unlike some folks in Genesaris, was actually both well-traveled and well-learned, having spent her time in so many places at so many times that she'd witnessed the spectacle of other cultures quite often. The mostly monster population of the city didn't bother her in the slightest, though she did keep her distance as she passed by folks. The streets were alive with sounds and smells and sights, a rare treat for her senses that quickly threatened to overwhelm her. She paused by a post to take in her bearings, watching a trio of halfling escorts attempt to charm passerby. They were cute; small, but with well-done makeup and nice clothes. They were also absurdly busty, and Priscilla felt her hands come up defensively to cup her own chest. She'd lost a lot of weight in this endeavour; she wouldn't be surprised if she looked like a completely different person. With a sigh, she continued moving down the road, eyeing the stands as she walked along.

Priscilla needed to leave the city as soon as she was able. As a member of the Merchant's Guild in Vdara, she needed to make her way there to make her claim, and potentially start rebuilding the life that others had destroyed. However, this city, was almost certainly some distance from her ideal location; she needed a map first and foremost so she could figure out what kind of trek she was dealing with. She passed by a stand where a very pretty naga appeared to be selling scrolls; Priscilla figured that'd be the best place to start. She walked up casually and rested her hands on the table.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know where I'd find a map?" The merchant fixed her with a playful smile and wiggled a finger in the direction of the nearest...something. Priscilla gave her a grateful smile and departed before the snake could blow smoke rings in her face.

Carefully navigating the streets, she managed to worm her way around a slow-moving wagon pulled by a pair of...lizards? She had no idea, really, and investigated the map carefully. With that, her heart sank into her stomach, and stayed there for the first time in a very long while. Vdara was...literally on the opposite side of the continent, it seemed. Such a journey wasn't undoable with a cart, of course, but she didn't have a cart. She didn't have a crossbow, or clothes or even food. The only thing she'd taken off the airship was a chipped chisel that vaguely resembled a knife, cracked and shoddy but sharp enough to pierce skin. She'd need help, and she didn't have the money for that sort of arrangement.

Priscilla was next to herself with disappointment. If she wanted to get there, she'd need help. If she needed help, she'd need money. Her thoughts lingered on the trio of halflings she met prior. If she could get washed up, she could always make a bit of money offering herself...

...no, that wouldn't work. Not only was she unwashed and skinny, but she didn't have the strength to sell her body. She had too much pride to stoop that low, as well. She waited there for a moment, clearly lost in thought. What was Priscilla going to do?

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Yonx had a long long journey ahead of him, his master had told him to roam the lands all across the world, to find his samurai way. Over mountains, sailing through the seas, and hiking into deep forests while facing many challenges of monsters and men. Equipped with only the essentials and his lightning katana, he would wander near aimless into the legendary city ruled by dragons and monsters. 

In this city he would be looked down upon as weak due to his human physique, even though he was much more capable then one might think. But he didnt come here to prove himself as a warrior, he simply travelled around to find his own answer. Who am I? What do I want to be samurai for? What is my samurai way? Were the thoughts that repeated in his head with every footstep, that is until he saw another human looking person in the street. A woman with barely anything on her, she seemed to be alone and tired. Yonx had seen this one too many times, he wanted to help her but he didnt have much to trade with in terms of gold...however in this city of dragons and monster, gold wasn't the true currency so he hoped maybe that some of the artifacts he had found in his trips around would suffice. 

He walked up to the girl and took out a blanket he had used in travels for sleeping with, "You there...um you look tired and such. Could I offer my help to you miss?" He asked with the blanket in his hands. 

 

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Jon did not fail to notice the skinny, disheveled lady asking questions of the naga beside him. He didn't look up though, at least not with his human eyes. The next closest pair of eyes were in the body of a great owl sitting high above everyone's heads, on top of one of the horizontal flagpoles that bore the city's colours.

When she asked for a map, Jon's interest doubled.

When the girl moved, so did Jon's feathery extension of itself. It spread its armspan-wide wings and hopped along the flagpoles to a better vantage point, watching with hooded orange eyes and listening as the girl read the map. She really didn't look like the sort who could afford Jon's services, but it was nice to see another human.

When a samurai approached the girl, Jon was almost disappointed. He couldn't see the man's face underneath his enormous straw hat, but he could see by his armour and sword he was a seasoned warrior. A satchel sat on his back, and Jon's keen owl eyes noticed something glittering just underneath the lip.

"Something noteworthy right there," he said aloud, with his human lips, whilst scrubbing his helm. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the naga give him a peculiar look.

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Kinaaz let a hand run down the grip of her longsword, Kin's Blood. It was an unconscious movement, as if to make sure that it was still there, even though she felt it lightly hitting her in the back between her wings every time she moved. It was secured in a scabbard that was strapped to her back. Had it been strapped around her waist it simply would have dragged across the ground because of her height.

The woman hadn't made any attempt of concealing her wings. They glimmered green at the top and a deep, warm honey golden at the bottom, surrounded by black, sturdier edges. Her pointy ears were visible every time she moved her black hair behind them. She was dressed in dark fur that covered her shoulders, arms and chest, and a skirt of fur that covered the essentials, revealing the white tattoos that curled up her left thigh and her stomach. A large, brown satchel was bouncing against her hip for every step she took, and a Misericorde dagger was secured to her right thigh with straps of fur. 

She felt the eyes on her when she walked down the street with short, determined steps. Anyone here were used to seeing strange creatures, but her wings did make most people look twice. Not that she wasn't used to attention of this sort. In reality she felt more at ease here than she did in most human cities. At least here no humans dared go near her and try to touch her wings for good luck. Or they could just try... Kinaaz rolled her eyes at the mere thought. Humans and their ridiculous superstitions. The only reason why anyone touched her wings here was by accident because of how crowded this market place was - or on a dare.

Her golden eyes turned and glared at a greenish-looking monster without any clothes on and who was either a child or very small, who dared run his fingers over her wings purposely. She flapped them quickly and raised herself a few inches above the ground, reaching for the grip of her dagger and curling her lips upwards in a snarl. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth. Then he turned and ran. She smirked and continued on her path, now back on the ground, searching for the naga who sold her favorite flavored pipe tobacco. When she reached the stand, the naga sent her a smile of recognition and began looking for the right package among all the curious things she sold.

"Might as well find two," Kinaaz said, patting the satchel lightly. "I plan on leaving this place soon enough." The naga smiled and nodded. A woman of few words. Just the kind of person Kinaaz preferred. 

She let her eyes wander while she waited, noticing the stand beside the naga's. A new one. 

Hmm. A sell-sword. Human at that... Curious, in a place like this. She looked at the young man who seemed distracted by something happening on the market place. Even if he caught her inappropriate staring, she wouldn't look away out of shyness or shame. She tilted her head and squinted her eyes slightly, her face having only the expression of slight interest. 

Edited by Tia Dalma

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Priscilla gnawed on her lower lip, as she oft did when she thought. Her frazzled, frayed locks, unkempt and mottled with brown, were all over the place and served to hide her befuddlement somewhat. To her, there was perhaps two courses of action, to become a cutpurse or a cutthroat. Almost immediately, however, she ruled out mercenary work. It had never jived well with her; she wasn't a murderess. Even...that thing wasn't brutal enough to kill thoughtlessly. Priscilla's chest heaved quickly at the thought of her Shame, and she forced herself to cough; dry, retching sounds that mostly served to force her to think about something else. No, she wouldn't consider mercenary group unless nothing else showed up.

Thieving wasn't in her nature, though she certainly knew the basics. Nobody ever survived this long on their own without knowing something about pickpocketing or lockpicking. From what she'd seen, if she had enough days at it, and a good alibi, she could easily squirrel away a few things here and there. To get together supplies for a trek, however, would take weeks, and she didn't have weeks. She had to get to Vdara as soon as she could manage. For this exact reason, honest work was impossible as well. The moment Priscilla stopped trying to get to the Merchant's Guild, she'd never be able to resume the journey. She had to do it. There was simply no other choice for her.

Her reverie was interrupted as she saw feet walking towards her. Craning her head slightly up, she saw legs, the glint of a sword in its scabbard, and a blanket. Confusion quickly crossed her features, and she lifted her eyes to meet the approaching stranger's, only for the contact to be hidden behind a large, well-traveled straw hat of sorts. Priscilla glanced at the blanket again, and gingerly accepted the article, unsure even as his words rang in her ears.

On 1/13/2018 at 3:10 PM, JaviD'Arcana said:

"You there...um you look tired and such. Could I offer my help to you miss?"

Priscilla took a good look at the blanket, ignoring his question initially. It wasn't a great blanket. Not to oversimplify, it was definitely serviceable. With a pin, or some similar implement she could easily bind it around her shoulders as a sort of makeshift cloak or poncho. The fabric itself was somewhat rough, but it had a good weight to it. If she had to guess, the runesmith would have guessed that it was made from some wool, instead of cotton or other plant-based material. It also had a very...lived-in smell to it, telling her that it'd been used in the dead of night. She'd complain about wrapping herself in somebody's sweaty garments if she wasn't desperate, so she let that slide, too. All told, Priscilla was just wowed by the offer itself; she hadn't expected generosity of any kind in this city. Later on, Priscilla would look back on this moment and realize she was far grubbier than she'd thought. The entire bazaar must have thought her a beggar or whore before she even had a chance to announce herself.

Holding the blanket now, Priscilla could get a good look at the kind stranger now, and more importantly his sword. It had an elegant shape and a careful gleam to it. She'd seen similar weapons during her visits to Weland. They had many different names for them, but Priscilla didn't use most of them. This sword looked to be in good shape, of course--all the best swords were. She wondered, briefly, if the metal could be redone as a runeite alloy. If so, she could try and bribe this character with her own talents, if he'd accept them.

She realized she'd been out of focus for far too long, and that by now her generous donator had surely become aware of her staring. She quickly shook her head, as if to dispell any suspicion, and made her interest clear.

"That sword and this blanket seem like they belong to two different people. You must take very good care of that sword--or you rarely have to use it." She noted with a gentle smile. Smiling felt natural. Talking tools with someone felt like she was almost back to her old self again.

"Thank you for the blanket, speaking of which. Such a nice gesture is hard to come by around here, I think."

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Yonx wished he couldve given something better than his blanket to her but it is all he had for now in this journey of his, better than nothing to offer help to someone he clearly could smell and hear needed it more. He held out his hand and touched the woman's shoulder, "Sorry I am touching you, I am blind. But now I can see you...you've...seem to have gone through a lot yes?...no need to answer I will not pry into your story." he said reassuringly and softly. 

He then turned his head a bit and sensed the swordsman, he was a human like himself so he must know of a place to stay and rest a bit. 

"And thank you, I do take care of my blade, a lot in fact. Hmhm my heart of kindness is always with me, I never leave home without it." Yonx smiled warmly to the woman before him and then walked to the swordsman a bit, motioning her to follow him over. 

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When the swordsman--no, that wasn't right. With a weapon like that and garb like that, she supposed the appropriate term was 'Samurai'. When the samurai reached out and touched her shoulder, Priscilla gasped softly, and almost wished she hadn't. As soon as she had, he'd spoken up.

15 minutes ago, JaviD'Arcana said:

"Sorry I am touching you, I am blind. But now I can see you...you've...seem to have gone through a lot yes?...no need to answer I will not pry into your story."

Priscilla was grateful then that he was blind. He wasn't able to see the shame that blossomed in her cheeks, the very real reddening that affirmed her humanity, if only to herself. As for his words...well, he had said he wouldn't pry. Priscilla didn't think he'd have believed her if she'd worked up the nerve to explain herself anyway. Moreover, the fact that he was blind meant that he hadn't seen her looking at his sword. Well, it could have been worse, she supposed.

As if reading her thoughts, her acquaintance continued speaking.

19 minutes ago, JaviD'Arcana said:

"And thank you, I do take care of my blade, a lot in fact. Hmhm my heart of kindness is always with me, I never leave home without it."

Well, she was grateful for his heart of kindness, then. Priscilla stood there, uncertain of what to say next. What did she tell him? What could she tell him? Again, it didn't seem like it mattered. Her donor waved her towards the booth not far from them, and he himself walked on over. Priscilla herself stayed in put, looking at the booth. Things were starting to look almost...dare she say it? The runesmith had a knack for business, of course, but given her 'time off' she had been worried that her talents would have faded. But here...

Priscilla eventually made up her mind and wrapped the blanket around her and strode over. The moment she got to the table she spoke up loud and clear, false confidence ringing true in her voice. 

"You could have waited for me, at least! How are we going to do business if I look like a strumpet? That's just poor form." She frowned disapprovingly at the samurai, but below the tabletop she gave him a gentle nudge with her foot. A subtle, nonspecific gesture. She turned to the man behind the stand and flashed him the most disarming grin she could. 

"I don't know what he's said to you yet, but he's got us all wrong, I'm afraid. I'm not looking for a place to stay here in the city; I'm looking to leave, and it seems like you might be the kind of person that can get that sort of thing done." Talking loud and professionally was a boon for her; she seemed like any other woman doing business around here, albeit a little worse for wear.

 

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Jon didn't smile. Didn't get up. Merely squinted at the pair with his helm and cloth in his hands.

"You don't need me to leave," he said. "Gate's right over there. If you need protection on the road from someone familiar with the area, I'm your man." He gave a casual glance at the fairy to his left, in front of the Naga's store. A menacing looking thing, she was, dressed seductively despite the bitter cold of the mountains. Casually he lowered his hand closer to the hilt of his sword on his lap and positioned his owl to be closer overhead. "What's your need?" He said to the couple, who hadn't been a couple more than a moment ago.

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Priscilla was next to positive that the man behind the counter was hooked; her counterpart was likely confused, but so long as he didn't blow their cover, she could easily spin this in her favor. She felt a familiar rise in her chest; like when she haggled with a stubborn merchant, or dealt with a difficult customer. It was the sensation of weakness; the desire to go submissive and let the situation used her as it pleased. Yet here, in the business sector, she had yet to let that urge beat her. She swallowed it, felt the bile dissapate, and continued talking. 

"My name is Priscilla Arrettle, and this is my bodyguard. He's more of a family friend; however." She admonished, giving her companion another ginger nudge before continuing to speak. "My father, Samson Arrettle, is a runesmith based in Vdara, and I'm his current acting successor." This wasn't a lie, necessarily. Priscilla may have been the one to open the contract with the Merchant's Guild, and it was certainly her name on all the paperwork, but her father was still her tutor, even though he'd long since passed away.  In her eyes, she'd never truly be the family runesmith. Such a revelation to herself would have been heartbreaking another time, but Priscilla felt that her eyes simply didn't have the strength to cry anymore. Not right now.

She pushed the ugly thoughts from her head and rested her hands on the counter patiently. "We only recently recovered from an airship crash. I was fortunate enough to crawl away, as was the crew, though my friend here got extremely lucky and left without a scratch." She gave him a gentle pat now, an over-the-counter gesture that was made to be seen. Her fond smile described the scenario without any other words.

"Now, I do need to get back to Vdara, but as you can imagine, the wreckage has left me mostly without some kind of travel aid. Are you starting to see your role in this?" She asked the potential sellsword.

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"Vdara's a long way," Jon said, taking a great deal of interest in his helm. He wasn't used to customers being so bossy. Usually they were desperate, and he got to set the terms. It didn't help that the fairy lady was still staring at him. Standing with a deliberate slowness, sword casually in hand as if he was just about to sheathe it, he fixed his eyes on the winged one and said, "Can I help you, Miss?"

He didn't sheathe his sword, his heart thudding in his chest. It was always worse when you didn't know if a fight was coming or not, when the civil part of the brain would have to be set aside for the animal part.

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Kinaaz observed the interaction between the two people, seemingly human, and the sell-sword. The woman looked more like a beggar who couldn’t pay for anything, and the man... He sure doesn’t look like he’s from around these parts, she thought with a slight squint.

She turned her attention back to the swordsman when he addressed her. Miss...? What a polite young man. The corners of her mouth curled slightly upwards in an ironic smile. She turned her attention back to the naga when she reached the two small packages across the counter. Kinaaz opened the straps on her satchel and pulled out a small purse, clinking with something. She weighed it in her hand for a few seconds, then opened it and pulled out a few small, sparkling crystals. She held one up and raised an eyebrow in question. The naga blew out a large amount of smoke and shook her head slowly. Kinaaz sighed and handed three over the counter. When the deal was struck, she let the back of her hand slide across the woman’s and then shook it. She let the purse and the two packages slide back into her satchel and closed it tightly. 

She turned her attention back to the two travelers. Curious how a wreckage can leave one in such bad shape and one without a scratch... She sent a quick look at the man behind the counter and smiled slightly again. I did intend on leaving this place soon... “I’d happily escort you, if the kind sir isn’t able to do so... I’d need some kind of reassurance that you’re able to follow through with payments, though... milady.” Every polite addressing of the people had a slight ironic cling to it, enforced by the light bow she made towards the end. 

Edited by Tia Dalma

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"It seems that's what we both need," Jon said, still standing, sword still at hand. He fixed his gaze on the fairy's face. Overhead his small feathery extension hopped along the flagpoles to get behind the fairy, watching her hands closely, looking for concealed daggers. But it was the eyes that were the truest measure of intention. In them he saw no imminent threat of attack, so his grip on his sword softened. He still watched her though, as he said to the lady in the blanket, "There's no use me and the pretty little miss here agruing about who's the better guide unless you can show us what you can pay with. That said I'll offer you another condition." He stepped away from the fairy, now looking at the lady in need. "If you want to wait, we can see if any other travelers are heading in the same direction. I'll take you as far as they go for currency or services. But that could be a day, or a few weeks. Depends on how much of a hurry you're in."

Depends how desperate you are, he thought.

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Michelee rested against the wall, taking a moment to decide where she wanted to go next. One wrong move and she could be in a situation that could risk her life, or more importantly the lives of others, if her tiger got loose to protect her. Her gloved hands were flat upon the stone wall, and she tried to control her breathing.

In her dark shadowed position, she had the opportunity to observe without being observed herself. She could see that in the town today there were a larger amount of human-like creatures in the area than usual. They seemed to be drawn together, probably for the same reason her eyes were drawn to them. They felt the instinctively that they were outsiders, unwanted, maybe even targets. They were grouping together for protection in numbers possibly.

She debated whether to join them or not. Yes, they were less likely to abuse or exclude her, because she was human-like. As her tiger senses perked up she could also hear that they planned to leave the area, and she desired to do so as well. But just because someone looked human didn't mean they weren't dangerous. She knew that from personal experience, and not just from others. She was dangerous herself, in the right circumstances. Also, if they all chose to travel together, they would draw more notice. One creature looking like a human is uncommon here, but a group would be very rare. She didn't know if it would offend the other creatures in the area, and believed that it more than likely would.

Still not sure what she would do, she smoothly slid around the shadows closer to their party.

5 hours ago, Cheezeegriff said:

"If you want to wait, we can see if any other travelers are heading in the same direction. I'll take you as far as they go for currency or services. But that could be a day, or a few weeks. Depends on how much of a hurry you're in."

Michelee knew that this was her chance to approach the group, if she were going to.  There was a moment, be it creatures or humans, when a group decides to embark upon a journey together.  The decision usually forces them to get to know each other.  To bond.  To tell secrets about themselves and to learn insightful things about another person.  It happens at the beginning of the journey, and to approach after the group bonding has begun makes you an outsider in the group.  You missed a moment, an event, or importance to the others.  She didn't want to try to ingratiate herself into the group, but she didn't want to be an outsider either.  This was all if she decided to join the group in the first place.  She felt drawn, almost as if she had to.  It was too tempting to pass up, and her instinct told her this was the best option for her.  She usually listened to her instincts. 

She stepped forward into the light, unaware of the picture she portrayed to the those who were watching.  Looking human made her stand out, and with the sun lighting behind her she shone like a glinting jewel.  She stood there as if absorbing the rays of the sun, her eyes closed in appreciation and her body visibly relaxing.  She'd come to a decision, and there was no changing her course now.

Spoiler

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She walked up to the group, her movements less human and more tiger, smooth and quiet.  "Hello," she began, her voice clear, but quiet.  "I would like to travel on your journey with you.  I have no currency, but I can provide a service."  There was a slight pause, and she quickly filled it with an explanation before someone assumed her service was of the sexual variety.  "I am a healer."  There was another pause, and she looked around at the creatures surrounding them.  She didn't know if those of this group knew it or not, but the other creatures were getting closer.  Closing in.  "In a dangerous area like this, and with so many human looking creatures in this group, I feel you might have great need of my services."

 

 

 

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