Learning Manners [Open, Azakan]

[Arizae]

Dull. Why must life be so dull right now? Empty, meaningless…without the fun and chaos where was the meaning? What was he doing anyways? Xaen looked around, bleary green eyes peering from beneath half closed lids. The cat yawned, white teeth glistnening as he stretched his paws before him and lowered his head, very methodically he extended his claws and gripped the wood beneath him. Sharp points digging in he dragged his body while closing his mouth and arched his back, curling his tail simultaneously to get all the sleep from his bones. Sitting now he blinked, and kneaded the wood beneath his claws a final time as he brought his long black tail to curl around the base of his body. Strange dreams these days, of course life didn’t have meaning. That is what made it such a fun place. Why have a dull moment when all it took to make the day exciting was a little creativity. Once more the large black cat yawned, his mouth opening wide as thoughts rolled lazily through his head. Well, perhaps sometimes he did get…lazy, was that the word? Yes, perhaps it was. Sometimes he didn’t feel like doing all the work to have some simple enjoyment.

It was this city. These religious little nutcases running two and fro between their little cathedral and the streets. It might be entertaining to gorge oneself on copious amounts of food and wine, but there was little chaos there. Teirm might be best for just seeing fun; this city wasn’t making enough of it at the moment. Sure nobles could do whatever they wished with their slaves, but that could be…disturbing. No! Never the blood and gore! Intestines rolling from stomachs, nails peeled back from skin, teeth pulled softly from place…oh the list was endless. It was those other desires of humans he had no intention of having to see. Must humans pretend they were trying to copulate like simple rabbits? Whatever let them have their fun, while he had his.

Blinking slowly he focused on the street below, it seemed harried today. Busier than usual as far as he could tell. Must be all those silly posters everywhere. Why was that human so interested in a Chalice of Nyx? That people actually believed in her at all was laughable to say the least. Well for all Xaen knew she was controlling his strings and was some magnificent lady of chaos. Highly unlikely however. Enough sitting, it was high time to get something to eat. Flicking his tail the werecat stood swiftly, with grace befitting to a cat he quickly jumped from wall, to box to ground. Keeping his ears up and tail down he trotted into a nearby alley. People would be disturbed to see him change form in the open, not the way he wanted to cause a scene today. There he found the deep shadows he was fond of and disappeared into the murk, black coat hiding him. Within the span of a few seconds a child came sauntering out from the same area. Bright emerald eyes shining with mischievousness and a pointed grin on his face the young boy made his way to the street.

Dressed in a simple black vest his pale thing body seemed to glow while the baggy pants he wore seemed perhaps too loose on his form. Stranger yet the young lad had a dagger complete with sheath lashed by a simple cord around his waist. No shoes on his feet either and his hands seemed somewhat strange…perhaps it was the pointed nails. Few would notice any of this if they managed to see his eyes beneath that shaggy black hair. The eyes belonging to the cat that had just disappeared. With a slit for a pupil and too bright a green for humans. He sauntered his way down the street, knowing that it could be fun to try and steal a meal this way. In his true form it was just too easy. Well, he might just pay for it today to avoid the hassle.

“Move freak!”

Xaen could’ve have avoided it. Should have dodged away, but that would have been giving in. That would have been letting this filthy street urchin order him around. That was intolerable. So he took the hit, but at the same moment he moved like lighting. His right hand pointed he thrusted it into the child’s side and felt the satisfying squelch of flesh giving way to sharpened nail. A precise strike coming up under the ribcage from the side, tearing diaphragm...finger scratching the surface of a lung. Just as quick Xaen flicked his hand away, sharp ears reveling in the sound of blood falling softly and the beginning of a scream.

A different idea occurred to him now as he gazed at the child writhing on the ground within the alleyway. Urchins normally thought they could bully one of their kind that appeared smaller and weaker. Children must be polite or learn their manners the hard way. Grinning Xaen moved slowly to the child’s head, thankfully this city understood the rules. Weaker ones die, stronger ones live. The smaller boy had moved of self-defense, and now this fool would pay. The werecat grabbed a fistful of the youths hair, sharp nails rending flesh carelessly as he lifted the child with odd strength. He turned the child too look at him, green eyes glowing as he raised his other forefinger to his lips and motioned for silence.

“Shhh…do not cry…I can make it end, or we you can learn some manners whichever you choose.”

The boy wriggled in his grasp and flailed about, managing to bring a fist to the werecat’s face. Xaen’s head turned from the blow, but slowly came back to look the boy in the face, seemingly unfazed despite the reddening mark as a slowly widening grin spread from ear to ear.

“Good choice. I wasn’t in the mood for manners anyways.

With a sharp quick movement he took his dagger from its sheath and held it to the boy’s throat. Cleaning a blade was always easier than removing flesh from underneath a nail. Pointed teeth smiling, he prepared the killing stroke.

Words :: 1055
Character :: Xaen
Muse :: Good, didn’t know where it was going but it became amusing
Interaction :: New thread, no one mentioned

[/size]

[nightstalker]

Morwen trotted along the street, the busy thoroughfare was unnatural to Morwen. ’People, people everywhere. WHO WOULD PICK SUCH A PLACE TO LIVE?!’ beautiful indeed, the place reminded Morwen of a prison. Guards were stationed at key points throughout the city, the control of travel was ridiculous, ’Just another sign of a crumbling governments efforts to maintain the front of being ok.’

Morwen remembered to the previous night, her stuff was still at the inn, ’Busy night, one advantage of being in a big city, the luxury and the money she was given. Maybe I should shop for something nice, if I am to fit in with these fancy people.’ Walking along she decided to stop by a vendor selling dresses, each of beautiful make but none fit to last outside the normal day to day life of a free spirited roamer. Morwen checked more stalls, each vendor selling the trendier styles for many different tastes. Morwen searched until she found the perfect outfit for a place like this, as well as one that would suit her well in combat. She pointedly asked ready to bargain, ”Excuse me miss.” she said addressing the lady in charge of the stall, she returned the comment by saying, ”Yes miss, may I help you today?” Morwen thought the woman sounded nice enough, maybe bargaining would not have to come into play. ”Yes, I would like to know how much does this dress cost?” Morwen shifted her weight impatiently from foot to foot and made an effort to judge the dress she held in her hand, that she really loved, and a dress that was ok looking in the neighboring stall. The woman followed her “longing” gaze and then looked back at Morwen, cursed quietly and said ”Yes dear, this dress is 50.” taking a second to think she started up again, ”It is made from the finest quality of leather, very fashionable, and handmade.” The woman gestured to Morwen’s sword and said, ”its style was meant for women fighters.” Morwen looked at the outfit and judged its durability in battle, ’The slit in the skirt allowed more breathing room, the black leather is durable and would be good for stealth, the leather doesn’t breath very well, but cross tied opening in the sides allowed ventilation.’

The dress had a design on the back that Morwen really liked, the design was of two intertwined dragons and many more prints. Morwen judged that it would work nicely’The price is a bit high, keep the act up…’Morwen shifted toward the stall she had been aiming for, this caused the lady’s eyes to shift nervously from Morwen to the other stall. ”It’s a bit pricey, but that-” as she pointed to the neighboring stall, the woman nervously replied, ”I don’t think that 20 coins is that pricey do you?” Morwen chuckled to herself, ’Well then, she is pretty good isn’t she… I don’t want to take advantage of this lady, I’ll meet her half way.’ Morwen looked her in the eye and said, ”You know, you are right… 30 coins isn’t too much to pay for this outfit.” The vendor let out a sigh and said, ”No, not at all mam. Thank you for choosing to shop with me, bless you.” Morwen walked away happy, 50 coins was a lot to her, but not enough to make her have to bargain for it, she had much more back at the inn. Morwen simply liked the thrill of bargaining, plus it gave her practice if she were forced to drive a hard bargain.

Morwen walked past the vendors she had previously been shopping at, she had gotten so caught up in the haggling that she had forgot exactly where she was. Now the reality of the city hit her, the crowded streets stressed her, ’AWW DAMN! What caused me to be here… Great thing I am passing through, this place is cultural, good for writing about. If only the culture DIDN’T have many people.’ Morwen fought her way through the crowd to get back to the Inn, once the mistress at the front desk greeted her and said, ”Evenin’ mistress, what brings the jongleur back so soon? Are you not enjoying our town?” Morwen smiled, ’How could I enjoy the rat infested city, the slime that walks throughout the city, the deadbeats, whoring, and all the sin infesting this “religious” city. Tell me, what here can be enjoyable?’ Morwen pointed to the outfit and said, ”Oh, I am only here for a while, changing into a new outfit. And I am having a good time here! Thank you for your generosity!” Morwen said the customaries and went off to her room.

The room was a suite, the marble floors stretched out to a balcony that overlooked the white city. The morning brought a white glow upon the white city, and the afternoon light brought heat to the overlook. The white reflected the heat of the sun and made the day seem brighter than it really was. Morwen went back in, the furniture was accented in iron and had white sheets, very expensive. Morwen slipped into her dress and walked in front of the mirror, the dress fit nicely and was very elegant looking, ’Just as the woman said, it is very flexible, great for fighting.’ Morwen walked out of her room saying goodbye to the mistress and went back out, onto the streets.

Catching looks from a couple of men, she thought to herself, ’As an elf, I am waaaay out of your league, better stick to your one-night stands boys.’ Morwen walked down a back alley way when she turned a corner she saw a frightening sight, a child squirmed in the grip of a ware cat grip. The child bleed from the side, a knife tightly clinging to his throat, ’Damn, stupid kid, what did you get yourself into?’ Morwen reached out her hand and cast a spell,” Verma skapt “ the handle began to glow red as to burn the hand that held it.

Morwen stepped from behind the corner and screamed, ”AYE! Leave the runt alone, unless you want my blade stuck against your throat.” Morwen had lhang in her hand in a moment. ’What are you getting yourself into, let the pathetic life form go he probably deserves this, remember your cousin? No, stand up for the down trodden. Just don’t get yourself too deep into this…’

[Arizae]

((I do hope what follows below is not to violent, eh it ain't bad.))

He was relishing the moment, drinking in the fearful wavering gaze of the child. The boy was large for his age, obviously one that was used to pushing his way among the smaller ones. He had known pain, yes, but this child had never known true fear. Horror rather, perhaps it was to that level. Xaen could see it now, the eyes always told the truth, and this child’s pupils pushed all the color from their gaze. The grin remained on the werecat’s face, the black eyes of fear. Everyone died with those pitch black eyes…and every killer murdered with them on his own face. Xaen could feel the excitement, felt his body quiver as he kept the dagger steady, and he knew that his own eyes had rounded to that pitch black color. All senses aware pulse racing. The madman had been released in cold blood. Xaen let the moment stretch as the child’s eyes quivered. The werecat merely turned his head slightly to the side, making that face-splitting grin go crooked…the child gulped, sucked air and the cold steel sliced the surface of his skin. Xaen sighed, muscles holding the blade level as he tensed…

White hot pain, searing into his hand, with a hiss he dropped his beloved dagger other hand clenching the child’s scalp as the fire spread throughout his body. Instantly the werecat knew it for what it was and made sure his mind was secure. Someone insolent enough to interrupt his kill, high-browed enough to think they had a right to take that moment from him. Inside he wailed in frustration, had he opened his mouth he would have howled like any pained cat. Not from burnt flesh of his hand, but for the moment stolen. The blood was not flowing, the eyes were still black but they did not quiver like they were supposed to. Hope was flooding into the creature he held. The child thought a savior had come for him. Xaen snarled, an utterly feral sound coming from the body of a boy. Pointed teeth grinding as his long nails gouged deep trenches into the boy’s scalp he held. Xaen could feel the skin collecting beneath his nails, reveled in the feel of blood on his fingertips. And was at last calmed by the fleeting light from the child’s eyes. Horror was taken up anew as the street filth was faced with a feral animal bent on destroying him.

Now came words? Threatening him? Leave the runt alone…no he would see all light die…he could recreate the moment he must have the blood spill. Xaen groaned aloud as he physically struggled to control his thoughts. Something righteous was playing white knight at his back and it could use magic. He had kept himself alive this long, don’t toss it up for this chance kill…the werecat shook his head…once…twice…and once more to rid himself of his grin the black drained from his eyes collected up into thin slits as the glow of green returned. Then, utterly calm, once more in control he turned. Very slowly he came to face his assailant, and was not surprised in the least to see an elf woman. The most annoying of all the filth that wandered into all his plans. Why was it that they always seemed to stand in the way of his fun? Oh how he would delight in seeing her throat bleed! But no, calm, he must remain in control. And in the moment that his fierce eyes made contact with the elf’s he had his plan.

Innocent eyes replaced that fierce look, an almost sad look. A child pleading at his mother’s skirts to be allowed just one more hour to play. That was the look in Xaen’s eye, and he met the elf with it as he spoke in a level tone. “Oh? But I caught this one all my own…and soooo many of the little ones here would be better off without…” he shook the child, and the boy grimaced blood flowing from his torn scalp, “it.”

Suddenly his eyes flashed back to their deadly gleam. The animal had returned and it was the lion protecting its prey as the hyena moved in. Xaen had his injured hand on the child’s neck now, and gripped it firmly as his nails found purchase in flesh. The child’s whimpers carried through the alleyway, but it was being brave and not screaming at the moment…that would have to be arranged later perhapse…if not for the damned elf. The grin returned pointed teeth meeting perfectly as he smiled from behind the boy’s neck, his head tilted to the side. His voice was harsh, threatening, way too low for the form he was currently in.
“Besides elf, do you think your blade can find my neck before my hands twist? Will you use your magic on one of my kind? Keep to your own and out of places you do not belong!”

Words: 827
Character: Xaen
Muse: Great muse, hope it didn't come out garbled
Interaction: Holding kid, glaring and threatening at Morwen

[mriswith]

A light breeze wound its way up the feminine figure moving through the streets at peace even with the bustling city around her. It caused the back of her long coat to flare and rustle in its passing after providing a bit of cooling to her upper body. The panels settled down once the wind blew through, leaving the center stripe down the front of her body exposed again. Unlike the attire beneath it, the coat was tightly woven cloth able to keep out most elements, especially rain. A fine shell to keep dry while traveling in the many places of the world her jobs took her. Her upper body under the coat, however, was wrapped in bands of black leather; larger weave appeared along her sides for mobility, but for the most part it provided a solid barrier against assault from blunt attacks or glancing blades.

One well worn, but polished boot rolled over the ground after another with precision between each step. Ishiyo's red eyes looked out at the crowd ahead, her inner self sensing those surrounding her, and the Elf carried on paying as little attention as possible to the merchants crying for attention. She didn't fault them for trying, but she had no interest in browsing their wares. Besides, she didn't feel the need in carrying anything extra back with her; nor did she have a tendency to do so. A small thing here or there to remember a place by when it was appropriate. Today wasn't one of those days, however.

Simple enough job fulfilled, the Elven woman was free to do what she liked. Since she'd come all this way, however, she thought about visiting the local establishments and learning if anything needed done here or closer to home. As a mercenary, bounty hunter, or sword-for-hire the next job wasn't always easy to come by; didn't help most tasks she was best suited for were expensive ones and few really wanted to part with the money if they had a choice.

As a clump gathered in the center of the street, Ishiyo turned aside and drew closer to the buildings and the stalls to navigate through and continue on her way. She turned her head to the side and gave a merchant a small, uninterested smile as her left hand rose to ward off a sell as she passed by. Strolling down the middle of the street made it easier to ignore them, and the gatherings here and there made her course more of a challenge than she'd have liked. Nothing new about living in a bustling city, however. She'd grown up in Ilirea after all; a city and state all of its own with plenty of business to fill its streets and keep people occupied.

Drawn so close to the buildings, her left foot rose to carry her past another alleyway, which was no different than any other, when something out of the corner of one red eye caught her attention. Slowly as her foot began to fall, the Elf turned her head to look down into the depths recessed from society's awareness. Two--three--forms standing, or dangling, within. The Elven fighter's gears shifted in place as she gauged the location, distance, height, and demeanor of all those involved. Immediately it was apparent there were two sides involved with a third party that may or may not be affiliated with either. Hostage? Victim? The little one had another by the hair, however, which automatically placed him under suspicion. Another Elven woman faced off with the youth, setting her as the intruding party.

The boot rolled heel to toe. Slowly shifting her weight, Ishiyo let her momentum flow into the next step as she brought her right foot around to adjust her course. The second Elven woman stopped just inside the alleyway, not wanting to crowd either party in case it wasn't as simple as Authority vs Criminal. It was always embarrassing if you walked in between two criminals going at it--unless they were both your targets, in which case that worked out rather well. For the time being Ishiyo remained silent, content to size up the situation before rushing in. Obviously the other Elven woman was occupying the assailant enough; after all, the not-quite-Human lad was in a talkative mood. Talkative, if violent.

[nightstalker]

Morwen stood gasping for a second, the werecat groped for the child causing Morwen to step back for a second. ’Told myself not to get involved, but I just had to do this. This child’s life would be better off, but is it really the matter of one life, how many street urchins have been killed by this monster?’ Morwen brandished her sword and said, ”Regardless, my sword cannot meet your neck before your knife reaches the brat’s, but I have no doubt that it can nonetheless reach your throat. That’s all that counts, is it not? Getting the kill, you get your kill and I get mine. It’s an equal trade, no?”

’Was that a bluff, do I really mean to end this poor child’s life on the count of my pride? The rat can die for all I care, but do I really think that?’ Morwen was unsure of what to make of the situation; it had gone from bad to worse. Not to mention how bad the situation had been to begin with. Morwen planted her feet in place, balancing herself on the balls of her feet. Her hand slid down her leg to the throwing knife she had in a pocket on her left leg. ’Let’s see if my knife can imbed itself in your throat before-!’ Morwen realized that her throwing knives were left back at the inn, she had taken them off and went along without its familiar weight.

Words sped through Morwens’ mind, the ancient language giving power over the world around her, began flowing to her lips. Morwen staunched the flow, ceasing the train of thought and the flow of spells about to be cast. Morwen considered a thought,’ the commands of the world, are uttered in Ancient Language, giving speed to a dangerous idea.’ Morwen said aloud, ”Tell me, werecat. Do you think your knife can slit the urchin’s throat before I say your true name?” The threat was obviously a bluff. Hopefully he knew what a true name was, it was the idea based off of the Ancient Language, the only thing that Ancient Language cannot force others to do, unless the true name in said language was found. Thusly, finding the true name is a basis of characteristics of a creature. Their attitude and way they carry themselves are what their true name entails. To find another’s true name is to have their unwilling allegiance, the individual no longer has a will as your will is all they can obey. ”Tell me werecat, what kind of being are you?” Morwen simply stalled for time seeing what she could do in the mean time.

Morwen heard the soft padding, years spent with her friend Liran taught her to be careful of her surrounds. Her heightened sense of sound picked up the soft foot pads that had settled beyond her view, but no doubt their company saw them. What he, she, or it meant to do Morwen was unaware of as they stayed concealed within the shadows. ”If you think I jest, this innocent’s life means little to me, just another street urchin whose pitiful existence has been ended on the chance of terrible fate. My goal lies between your chin and your sternum. Morwen wasn’t about to reveal the third party, ’C’mon, cast a spell and get it over with, take the werecat out!’ Morwen however, had no doubt that the werecat was aware of the presence of the third person.

[Arizae]

Despite his uncommon strength Xaen did not appreciate holding the child up for a long period of time. He did not find joy in such physical exertion. Perhaps an elf of human would. They had contests to see who could hold up heavier objects, or keep something high for a longer period of time. The werecat ground his pointed teeth in that crooked grin. Slowly he eased the child down, just so the child’s toes were touching. Enough for Xaen to be comfortable and the boy…well enough to keep him from not running away. This elf before him truly was infuriating! Ruining his fun, and for what? A street urchin? A child that had no doubt been the cause of death for many its own age? Elves loved justice, was he not dealing it? Perhaps…a little violently and sporadically, for all he knew this kid protected little ones, but justice all the same.

Xaen suppressed a growl as her words came tumbling from her mouth. He had thought elves to be flowery creatures, but nothing but mud and filth came past those lips. Anger bubbled within his mind at her offense. She might see it as logic, but she had made a point…that his life was the equal of the child’s he held. It made him want to rip her throat out with his teeth, peel back her skin from muscle and tie her intestines in a knot while her eyes looked on and her mouth screamed. Nearly reduced him to feral animal, and that wild light flared within his eyes again. The life of a werecat was far more precious than that of any urchin. Would she have said the same to a dragon? Foolish elf, piece of filth.

Suddenly, at that insult he forgot all about the child. He merely gripped tighter; if possible, tearing back scalp from its head as his knuckles went white. Had he been in true form his tail would have stood straight and all his fur would have stood bristling while he hissed and spit. Instead a strange sound came from his throat as he prepared some form of attack; some retribution for the injury she had done to werecats by simply implying an urchin was greater. The whimper from the boy somehow brought him back to his mind. With yet another snap, another shift, he realized he was acting fool. Hissing and spitting like a normal cat did not make you worth more than an urchin, it made you less. The boy faced death and whimpered, but he did not scream in terror. Better if he had fought and kicked…but surely that would have gotten him killed, so perhaps he had some intelligence. The light in Xaen’s eyes lost the feral gleam, and suddenly their flickering became calm.

For now he remembered, he was a werecat, and above all else he would remain calm. He could be cruel, intimidating, but he would not be driven to such anger and frustration by a mere elf. Xaen had been caught up in blood lust…a danger thing still hinting to fill his eyes with red if he but let it enter. But he pushed the madness back, let thought enter his mind and calm him, and that gave the elf another chance to speak. This time, he truly heard her words, and instead of being insulted by her previous statement, he saw that it was merely spoken in ignorance. Such a thick headed elf would believe an urchin to be the value of a werecat. If she thought she could guess his true name! The idea of such a thing was not laughable, it was downright hysterical.

Xaen could not help himself, his eyes watered, his snarling grin became one where he had to bit his lip to keep from laughing. And then a low chuckle started deep within his chest. Slowly it grew, climbing up his throat until he knew he could not hold in his mirth any longer. With a great gasp he laughed, an almost screeching cry that grated ears and made the small boy flinch. A high pitched sound that worked its way low, and then up again, like some crazed Harlequin at a masquerade. Tears flew freely from his eyes, and still she spoke! Guess his true name?!? From what she had seen so far? His laugh grew louder and his burned hand let go of the child’s neck to clutch at his stomach. Just as she finished her last speech he looked up with water eyes and a red face.

“What kind of being am I?!?”

[/color] he laughed again, unable to control himself even as his eyes just now noticed a newcomer at the entrance of the alley. Another elf, curious to see, but one that wasn’t so meddlesome, more polite. Smarter too, she was taking a look at the situation before plunging in, measuring it up to see where she should stand. Not like the sword-happy bit in front of him. “If I could remember my own true name one minute out of every decade I have seen I would be lucky! Names change as a being changes, and I know none that are as flippant as I! Chaos rules my actions and name! I have not been the same being since I was a kit!”[/color]

Suddenly the dagger that he had dropped was within his scaleded hand once more, its hilt now cool. The bit of enchantment woven into was handy indeed. Merely summoning it to the hand that wore the finger was convenient. Its curved black blade found itself not at the throat of the child, but pointing just above Xaen’s own sternum. Laughing manically he let the blade plunge into his skin, drawing blood, and looked down with that face splitting grin. “You are bloodthirsty elf…I see it in your eyes and you admit it yourself. Come taste and see what my true name is if you desire a kill of your own!”

Laughing once again he rolled his eyes to the newcomer, taking in her sight and smell. A warrior she seemed, and well-traveled if her clothes meant anything. A dangerous foe if turned against you. His manic grin turned slightly at the sight of her, a challenge of sorts. Did she care any for the child within his grasp? The boy would need healing if he was not to die of infection. Dead by Xaen’s hand if neither elf would heal him, even if he hadn’t had the satisfaction of real blood flow. What was her purpose, her goal? Would she strike at him too? He opened his mind to her, the red madness flowing in his thoughts and voice as he spoke directly to her.

Time flows quickly, and the greatest evil is that of apathy.[/color] His tone was so colored by the craze within his mind that there was nothing of his normally calm tone. He had lost it once again; let the red haze cloud his eyes as the excitement in his blood rushed to his head. All senses on edge and mind a flurry, he wondered if the elf could feel his mind swimming. Xaen wondered if these elves would see logic, see through this façade, this play, whatever it was…and see their justice done.[/blockquote]

Words : 1217
Character : Xaen
Muse : Good once again, crazy Xaen is crazy
Interaction : A bit more talking, some laughing, getting his dagger back in hand[/size]

[mriswith]

Ishiyo stood there for several long, drawn out moments as the two all ready engaged in banter carried on without her. Seemed little point trying to hide. After all, these two weren't. The crowd wouldn't pay much mind unless a scuffle spilled back into the main road, either; too busy going in either direction to care about two people's personal dispute. The merchants were probably pleased it wasn't on the main. As for her part, other people's business was her business; just because no one had promised her reward in this instance didn't mean the young Elf would shirk her self-assigned duty to investigate.

Chaos? The Elf's red eyes examined the feline natured creature holding a hostage off to one side. Chaotic was a quality like any other; a quality that could reveal a person's true name given enough information. Very unlikely the yet introduced Elven woman knew enough of the Werecat to make an educated guess at their True Name. It seemed the Werecat knew this as well and rather audaciously called the bluff. Chaotic and reckless, or simply unconcerned. The glint in his eye suggested a fight wouldn't be distasteful; but laughing that boisterously had left him vulnerable. Fortunate his Elven adversary hadn't taken advantage of the situation and lopped his head off; she might yet still find a way to use it all the same.

Even as the feline pierced his own skin, Sasaki didn't budge from where she'd planted her feet nor grimace at the mild form of self-mutilation. Did he enjoy pain? At the moment it seemed more likely he enjoyed inflicting pain. Regardless, it was all meant to heighten the tension and even put his adversaries off balance. For all the show, however, it could still be a ruse; a defensive shield against outsiders intruding on him. How battle worn was this deceptively small Werecat? For that matter, how young? His words suggested he was older than he looked, which wouldn't be that surprising given everyone involved.

"The greatest injustice is one done out of a sense of justice," the Elven woman replied to the raging thoughts of the Werecat poised to strike.

Her right foot rose and fell. The woman began slowly making her way deeper into their public sanctuary, moving off to one side to pass by the other Elven woman without physical contact or a shift in stance necessary. "Slaughter of the weak is no punishment, and the strength of one's hand no excuse." Ishiyo continued moving closer, keeping her eyes focused on Xaen. The Urchin everyone was eager to dispense with would find better company with the mercenary content to have him handed over to the local authorities if he was as guilty as charged. There was no reason to execute the youth on the spot, in her mind. Besides, it seemed the Werecat had other, more pressing matters on his mind--like an engagement with the other Elven female. Xaen should welcome being rid of the youth.

No glance was spared toward Morwen as she moved forward; every moment had to be with Xaen as the unstable element. Talk him out of a hostage first, then they could deal with any skirmish that followed as a result. A spell would be too slow given the ease with which the Werecat wielded his blade and the willingness to not only use it, but use it on himself.

Hostage negotiations hadn't been on her list of things to do today, Ishiyo thought in the far recesses of her mind. She slowly reached out with one hand as if to lighten Xaen's load by accepting the Urchin-baggage from him. Her left hung at her side next to the sheath of her katana, but her fingers loose and free from it. Don't provoke. Don't intimidate. Just a moment of peace or clarity could loose the young hostage and change the balance of power. Ishiyo expected Morwen's words had been a different tactic on that front as well; dismissive of the Urchin so Xaen hadn't used him to punish the Elven intruder. Sasaki, however, hadn't aggrivated him yet and so playing the opposite role, as kind and attentive, had fallen to her.

Hopefully the Werecat was more interested in that bloodlust in his eyes than he was demonstrating his dominance over the Urchin. Ishiyo didn't know what the child had done to deserve the abuse pounded on his relatively small frame so far, but it would be something he wouldn't forget--if he survived.

[nightstalker]

Morwen shifted her weight uneasily from foot to foot. Balancing herself upon her heels, her eyes shifted from the werecat, to the child, and to the elf that had finally shown himself. ”This is a situation you cannot win in, once the child is dead you lose your leverage over me. Do you really think you have a chance to kill me? I would be impressed if you could land the first blow before your last.” Morwen had no doubt in her abilities; her sword gave her an advantage over the shorter reach of any dagger.

Morwen had several spells already in mind for this situation, a shielding spell, a spell that would release a bolt of lightning, another spell that could fine the air to a point perfect as a blade, the last one would be if the werecat tried to escape. Morwen remembered back to the last time she was in this situation, the hostage was a family and their captors were a group of human bandits. Morwen had stumbled upon a situation that her friend Liran had been looking for. The young ranger had been trying to track down the group of bandits for months, and Morwen had stumbled upon them along the road.

The Morwen had to do something right away, as the bandits were going to act fast. Instead, Morwen took the initiative and worked out the situation, stalling for time. The engagement began as one of the bandits rushed her, Morwen had her sword in hand, parried the blow, and flicked the bandit’s sword away with a flourishing of her wrist. The bandit then drew a knife and two more approached her sides. Morwen used magic to send a concussive force directly at the first bandit and began parrying the other two bandits. Clashing metal rang throughout the quieted forest, metal flashed in a furious series of blocks, strikes, and counterattacks.

Morwen stepped back using her enemies momentum against him as he stumbled and was ran through by her blade, blood dripping from the pure blade. Quickly withdrawing she parried the other in time; she brandished her sword cut deeply into him. His scream rang throughout the silent wood, three other bandits rushed Morwen, but the time was enough. Three quickly-fired arrows caught them in the throat as Liran communicated with the forest to find the problem. The last two bandits came to see what was happening, their swords drawn they rushed into the fray. A figure materialized with twin sabers and stabbed both bandits, the person was another ranger that had released the spell that bended light around his figure causing him to be invisible.

The family had gotten away alive that day, and a further bandit threat had been thwarted, Morwen knew that Liran would not materialize from the alley this time. She was more than confident in her ability to end this situation. ”Werecat, how many times have you fought an enemy more powerful than you? Tell me, how many lives do you have left? Unless you would like to negotiate a surrender, which I would be glad to do, we could forget about this, and maybe get along. I am not convinced you are all bad, though my view may be a bit naïve, we might have just met on the wrong terms.” In a pathetic attempt to both buy time and make amends Morwen proposed this to hopefully end the situation. Now that she really thought about it, she really didn’t care about the urchin’s life, just less mouth to feed, another nameless face among the many that die without a passing glance by anyone that may be considered family. The only thing that kept her fighting for the youth now is her stubborn pride not allowing her to go back on her decision.