Sarain R' Kvohdi stood at the east gate, ready to draw his dagger at any moment. The stronghold was massive, the huge earthen walls and massive Iron Gate making sarain feel like an ant. The wind was strong and a sandstorm was brewing, so Sarain had to get inside the city and find refuge as soon as possible. He had been trekking through the desert for days and he was covered in sand. He had plenty of water for he knew how to get it but the heat was excruciating. His skin burned and his lips were severely cracked.

The spy took a swig from his waterskin and walked into the city. It was filled with bandits, thieves, and criminals that had no other choice but to come here. There was news of a murder every day and the good people of the city were too scared to leave there homes. Sarain had been here before, on a mission petitioned by a man in Estolad who wanted to know if a man had fled to the citadel. He found him working in a small tavern and by the end of the month, he was found murdered in an alleyway.

I shouldn't stay here for long.

Sarain hid all of his money before he entered the city. The thieves were some of the best in Arda and by the time you knew it, you purse was gone. He needed to cool down so he walked into a nearby tavern. The place was rundown, chairs broken and mugs smashed. It was obviously a place of frequent bar fights. The barkeep looked anxious and scared, knowing that at any time his tavern could erupt into a war zone. The place was quite fool, four men laughing as they played cards in the corner and a group of orks that didn't look very happy.

Sarain walked in and sat at the bar. The stool he sat on was covered in grime, probably sat on by a dirty centaur. The patrons were noisy, yelling as they found out one of there friends betrayed them or because they lost a bet. The only ones without a grin on there faces were the Orks who still hadn't moved from there table.

This doesn't look too good.

"Give me a mug of ale"

The barkeep nodded and filled the glass, passing it to the man and asking for the money.

"I'm going to have to ask for the money now. I get too many people either running off without paying or spitting in my face."

Sarain looked at the man for a second, observing his features. He didn't look like the type to run a bar in Angband. It was a dangerous job and the man looked scrawny and weak. However, Sarain didn't judge a book by its cover. Some don't look the part, but are better than someone who does.

The spy gave him the money without saying a word. He gave him extra, to pay for future damages. The barkeep smiled and walked off to serve a Lupine who had just sat down at the bar. He took a sip of the ale and looked at the orks, trying to figure out why they were here. Were they simple bandits, looking to get out of the desert sun? On the other hand, maybe they wanted something else. Sarain didn't bother wondering, but he was going to keep an eye on there actions.

Crossing the desert had always been one of Raven's least favorite tasks, for more than one reason. The first and no doubt the most obvious reason was that crossing the desert involved passing through dry land under the scorching heat of the sun with barely any water visible. The second was that the weather in the desert was unpredictable, and that a sandstorm could happen at any moment. The third, although definitely not the least, was that crossing the desert involved passing through Angband.

Raven tugged sharply on the reins of her warhorse, Naith, stopping the horse in his tracks. The horse shifted dangerously, as if it found the thought of throwing her tempting. The shapeshifter thanked the gods that Naith was a well-trained horse, and although its dislike for her was evident, it did not disobey specific commands. If not for that, she would have gone flying from the saddle ages ago.

She turned around, watching as her white wolf familiar, Aegis, made his way to the top of the dune to join them. The dune overlooked the city of Angband, the only shelter that any of them would find in the harsh wilderness of the Anfauglir Desert. Although it wasn't much in the way of shelter, Raven had learned long ago not to refuse such things when they were offered. The wind whipped at her black hair as she looked on the city with level gray eyes.

The shapeshifter tugged lightly on the reins, straightening Naith so that the horse was facing straight at the city. Naith shifted again, making his restlessness evident. The horse knew what was coming, and was eager to get it over with.

Leaning forward in the saddle, Raven kicked sharply at Naith's side. The horse took off at a gallop, running down the hill. Bits of sand whipped into Raven's face from the wind, entering her eyes and stinging a little. Her hair and cloak flew behind her like a black tail. Raven's breath caught in her throat as Naith let loose all his pent-up energy and frustration.

Once they had reached the wall, Raven tugged on the reins. The warhorse stopped, pawing restlessly at the dirt. Raven dismounted as the white wolf caught up, panting slightly from the run. A rustling in one of the saddlebags meant that Raven's other familiar seemed disturbed from the ride. The shapeshifter opened the bag, poking around inside. Aranel, the Ehtele'mele bunny that she had recieved from the festival at Lomedor, looked at her with wide eyes, upset at being woken up.

Raven stroked the rabbit's fur gently and Aranel soon drifted lazily back to sleep. The archer adjusted her Ranger's Cloak, making sure it sufficiently covered the chain mail she wore underneath. One could never be too cautious entering Angband.

Before entering the city, she unhooked Aranel's saddlebag. Slitting bags was not an uncommon practice in Angband, and the rabbit would not last very long on the streets. She turned to Aegis.

"People will think twice about stealing anything around you, won't you?" asked Raven, giving the wolf a pat on the neck as she passed the bag to him. Aegis took the bag in his teeth, careful not to bite the rabbit that lay sleeping inside. Once that was done, Raven took Naith's reins in hand and entered the city.

She was tired, hungry, thirsty, and in dire need of a bath and a change of clothes, seeing as how she was covered in sand from the trip. Thinking between these three needs, she decided that thrist won out first, seeing as her waterskin had run dry earlier that morning and looked around in search of a place to get water. Taverns and inns with varying degrees of shadiness had sprung out like weeds on either side of the street, so the only thing left for her to do was pick out the least shady option. She finally decided on one particular tavern.

Raven stopped outside the door to tie Naith's reins to a nearby post. She stroked his mane, making the horse look at her.

"Hopefully we'll be able to get something for you to eat as well," she said, "Until now, stay out here and if anyone tries to steal you, kick him."

Naith turned away from her, although whether it was because he understood or because he wanted her to leave as soon as possible, she didn't know. Raven beckoned to Aegis and stepped into the cool shade of the tavern. The place was full, catering to several very odd and even more suspicious patrons, and for once Raven didn't try to stop Aegis's sniffing around. Her familiar's suspicion would be useful in a place such as this. All she hoped was that he wouldn't get around the wrong people. It would be very hard for the wolf to defend himself with Aranel's pouch in his mouth, so Raven took the pouch from him.

"Anything, miss?" asked the barkeep turning towards her.

Raven looked around. She wasn't normally one to indulge in alcohol, not liking the loss of reason that came with it, although she did have a drink or two every now and then. At that moment, however, all she was interested in was water.

"Water for now," said Raven, trying to get the words out through her dry throat. The barkeep nodded in understanding, returning with a glass of cool water. Raven was about to accept it when she realized that the barkeep was looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry, miss, but you're going to have to pay. Not much water in the desert, you know."

Raven nodded, pulling out a coin from her bag. She passed it to the barkeep, taking a careful sip of the cool water. As the cold liquid slid down her throat, she immediately felt refreshed. One of the best things about travelling through the desert, she realized, was how water tasted after spending a day going through it.

(Welcome to the desert folks, here comes to welcoming committe)

Among the dry weather, the dangerous creatures and the lack of water, one more threat populated the desert, and of all this threat was the most feared. There was a group of desert marauders, desert-born, ruthless warriors, only the best of the best, they were even feared by the other desert dwellers, they knew how to avoid the beasts of the desert, they knew where to find water and how to squeeze water out of plants, but against the marauders, those raiders they were helpless. It was very hard to anticipate which oasis or part of the desert they populated for the time being, and what attacks they had in mind. They were practically the ones who ruled the desert, by force and by controlling the very few oasis. They paid homage only to a minor deity, almost unknown to many, she was called the Goddess of the Oasis, and she was as ruthless as the desert itself, demanding blood-spill to those who desecrated the waters. Water was the most prized possession one could have, not all the gold in the world, not any magic weapon or item could buy a oasis with its clear, refreshing water and palm trees: small patches of paradise in the middle of hell…

But the tavern from Angband, the hidden stronghold of the desert was not supplied with water from a oasis belonging to the raiders. The ones who used to live there eons ago, when the stronghold was in all its might constructed a lot of underground tunnels, they found a spring of water which is fuels0 a single well with water ever since. But the water provided by the well was very little in contrast with the inhabitant’s needs, and it was very expensive, so every once and then some smarta** would go and steal from the raiders, thus signing his death sentence. The desert had a strong effect on those who dwelled there, it made them ruthless, and everyone cared only for themselves, there was no time to care for others, you would die in the process.

The bartender was not in a very good mood, he had lost weight in the last couple of days, his eyes were mauve because he didn’t manage to sleep all those nights. He found out that someone who worked in the tavern had stolen some water from the desert raiders, so he expected at least one of them to appear any time now. He was the owner, so he was responsible, he tried to find out who exactly sold the water on the black market but didn’t manage to, the desert raiders would be here shortly, demanding explanations before enforcing their own law.

So the day has come… before anyone could even figure out what was happening the tavern door was kicked open, so hard that it slammed against the inner wall of the building, thankfully it did not fall to the ground. Every single gaze of the patrons moved towards the entrance, and that’s when a man of average height stepped in. He was wearing loose-fitting clothes, white in color, with a billowing cloak behind him. His head was covered by a sort of turban, and his face was protected by a scarf, he had traveled long way through the desert to reach the tavern and was not in the best of moods. In his right hand, the hilt of his scimitar was held firmly, one his back another sword was located, a more unusual one, it had a saw blade, it was longer and it looked enhanced with magic, the bane of all those nature-aligned.

He came like a ghost, like the raiders usually did, they were perfectly able to blend with the desert, and they appeared like mirages, illusions like those the desert usually liked to play with its travelers. Crawling on his side there was a small creature, with snowy white fur and white eyes, it was an albino squirrel, a pet of this man, and its favorite sitting spot was on the man’s left shoulder.

The bartender started to shake when the raider started to approach him, everyone was silent, they all knew about those fierce warriors, none of them would like to stand against one, they knew if they killed him more will be sent, a group to exterminate them all, innocent or not innocent. Soon the bartended was grabbed by the clothes and pulled over the bar. “Who has stolen the water and insulted the raiders? Speak now or else I will believe that you did it!”

While Sarain drank his ale and continued to observe the three Orks sitting in the corner, a woman walked through the tavern door. The spy stopped looking at the Orks, who were beginning to notice his observations, and looked towards the woman at the door. Once he looked, he could not look away. She was a beautiful woman, her black hair and grey eyes a nice contrast to her pale white skin. She lent down to take her pack from her familiars mouth, a white wolf that looked quite intimidating. She looked quite worried as she walked towards the bar, heading towards an empty stool next to sarain.

Who would have guessed, a woman like that in a place like this.

Sarain looked the other way as she sat down, drinking the last of his ale. He smelt strongly of body odour and his clothes were covered in dirt and sand. This was one of the first times he had ever been embarrassed. The spy didn't know why she took such an effect on him. It wasn't just her looks, but the way she moved and the way she smelt. Although the way she smelt wasn't as appealing as Sarain would have imagined. He could tell that she owned a horse, which was probably outside and would be stolen if the local thieves and beggars had anything to do with it.

The barkeep asked her if she wanted a drink. She thought about that question, then answered in a very husky voice.

"Water for now."

If she doesn't talk, she's perfect.

Sarain didn't bother with another drink. The woman gave a gold coin to the barkeep on his request and drank the water in one hit. She had obviously been travelling in the desert and had to come to Angband for refuge. The woman also had a collection of weapons, most noticeably a bow strung on her back. Before the woman could ask for another drink, a man entered the tavern. He slammed the door into the wall with such strength, it shook the very foundations of the building. The room went quiet, bar a man who had had a bit too much to drink.

The man looked like a local man, dressed in desert garb. He had two weapons, a scimitar, and a sword that looked like a saw. Sarain knew this was going to be trouble, so he put his hand on the hilt of his dagger. The bar man was shaking uncontrollably, knowing that this man was here for something and he was not leaving here without it. He walked over to the bar and grabbed the barkeeps tunic. The Orks were the only ones who moved, standing from there seats with curiosity. They were also dressed in desert garb, tanned tunics, and white turbines.

“Who has stolen the water and insulted the raiders? Speak now or else I will believe that you did it!”

The bartender looked confused but also very scared. He didn't know what this man was talking about. A raider wanting to know who stole the water. The next thing that happened was quite interesting. No one said anything, not even the drunk man spoke. All but one, who looked quite angry.

"Not your water yung one, but the deserts water. We were just takin' from the desert. If you want the water bak, yu'll have to take it from us."

The Orks had wide grins on there faces. They were looking for trouble and they weren't as stupid as they looked. These Orks were intelligent enough to put turbines on there heads and they spoke much clearer than most Orks Sarain had met. There were three of them and they must have known that they weren't just speaking to one man, but a whole tribe of raiders waiting outside of Angband.

(OOC: Raven, if you don't want me to admire you, just say so. I thought that it might be interesting for Sarain to be attracted to a woman. My old account was an old half elf who had never kissed a girl and the other was an Elf who thought himself too good for a woman :p )

The door to the tavern opened again, and Raven instinctively turned around to look. There was no telling what kind of people might enter a place like this, and caution had never hurt anyone. She seemed to be cursed with bad luck when it came to cities, seeing as most of the times she had entered any of them ended in some sort of trouble.

The man at the door was clearly dressed for the desert, wearing loose-fitting white clothes and a turban to cover his head from the sun. A white cloak fanned out behind him, and coupled with the scarf that covered half of his face and the scimitar at his side made him quite intimidating. He had come in like the desert wind, and it was obvious that he was familiar with the area. It wasn't his overall appearance that struck Raven, however, although she did sense that the was trouble. What made her hand tighten around her Razor Bow, what made a sudden chill make its way through her blood, what made her carefully and discreetly lower Aranel's pouch to the ground was not his appearance but the second sword strapped to his back.

At first she had no idea why the sword made her suddenly feel cold all over. The blade was odd surely with its strange sawlike edge, and might have been frightening, but she was an experienced fighter, although perhaps not a very good one, and had surely seen worse. She was used to fear, and knew how to deal with fear, but this kind of sudden chilling terror had never occured to her before.

And then she felt it--the magic that radiated off the sword in waves. It was a magic that would perhaps hardly be noticed by anyone else, but suddenly made its presence known to her. And looking at Aegis, whose hackles had risen and who was beginning to growl, and Aranel that had suddenly woken and was beginning to move around in her pouch, she knew why.

She had heard of enchanted weapons before--had even owned one such weapon, the Mystic Bow. Some time during the course of her travels, she had learned that certain weapons dealt more damage to certain creatures. Some weapons seemed to be particularly effective against those aligned with darkness. Others seemed to be trouble to those who followed the light. This particular weapon targeted one element, just one, and from looking at her familiars and judging from the reaction it had instilled in her own person, that element was the one of nature.

Raven swallowed down her fear as the realization hit her. He had the advantage, but did that truly matter. She had been in fights where she had been on the losing end of the battle before, and while having been seriously injured in most of them, had come out alive. She also wasn't the type to run from a fight, and besides, who said there was going to be one in the first place?

That didn't stop the shapeshifter from discreetly placing a hand on the hilt of her Anniversary Dagger as the man walked over to the bar, grabbing the frightened barkeep's tunic.

“Who has stolen the water and insulted the raiders? Speak now or else I will believe that you did it!” said the man.

Most of the other patrons had gone silent at this statement, watching the man with wide, fearful eyes, except for one drunk who was currently blubbering in the corner. Raven's eyes narrowed at the man's display. She had battled down most of the initial shock, and was now surveying the situation calmly. She would be at a disadvantage if the man attacked now, and not just from his weapon, but because of the man's proximity. She was an archer for the most part, although she had done a little training with her Razor Bow, which also functioned as a blade. She needed range to be able to effectively battle against a trained swordsman. She still had her shapeshifting ability and her spells, if it came down to that, and if nothing else perhaps she had the element of surprise.

As Raven watched, one of the Orcs began to speak. He was asking for trouble, judging from his arrogant tone of voice. They didn't seem all that stupid though, for Orcs. Their speech was clearer as well, although now was clearly not the time to think it over.

Raven's mind quickly assessed the situation again. If the man moved closer to the Orcs and decided to try anything funny, he would have to turn his back to her, or at least partially turn away from her. All she needed was one good shot, and if it came to that, she hoped that the man would give her that opportunity.

She turned to the man beside her, who she noticed was also getting ready for trouble. He alone didn't look like one of the regular patrons at the inn--looked more like a traveler who had just reached shelter. She turned to him, all traces of her initial shock and fear gone from her face.

"This is going to be trouble," she muttered in a low voice, hoping that the white-cloaked man couldn't hear.

((OOC: Go right ahead, Sarain. :lol: It'll make things more interesting.))

Zekhen continued to hold the bartender by the tunic, looking deep into his eyes, his own in a very deep frown, the veins of his were visible, and you could see the blood pumping through them, that’s how enraged the desert raider was. On the other hand, the bartender was so scared that he couldn’t even help, he couldn’t help the shaking of his entire body, his lips parted but no passed through them. The silence has engulfed the tavern, not even the sound of the patrons while drinking could be heard anymore. But then, an arrogant, deep voice penetrated the silence, the words were addressed to the desert-born elf, they sounded full of confidence and were directed as an insult to him, the oasis were controlled by the raiders and no one managed to get that power away from them.

"Not your water yung one, but the deserts water. We were just takin' from the desert. If you want the water bak, yu'll have to take it from us."

As those words reached Zekhen’s ears, he released the bartender letting it slide back in his place behind the bar, his body did not turn, but his eyes traveled to meet the bulky frame of the creature who has spoken. Ah, an orc… the struggle between orcs and elves was very well known, they were like nemesis, here in the desert as they were in any other corner of the world. The scimitar in hand was gripped even more powerfully as the rage began to intensify within the marauder. With a sudden and powerful turn of the body, the elf turned facing the spokesman of the orcs, he was in front. The elf’s arm also, empowered by the sudden turn of his body released the scimitar, an unusual attack but full of surprise, there was no room for words, the heavy blade managed to spin into the air a few times before making contact with the mutt’s face, remaining stuck into his skull. The pain was terrible, the massive body of the orc fell to the ground, if he was not dead already he would die soon in pain or from blood loose. How dared he?

Remaining in the same place, the desert elf drew his Flora’s Bane Sawblade, holding it with both of his hands, the tip pointing into the direction of the other too. He had a few moments to get into a defensive stance before the other two enemies would figure out what happened, draw their weapons and run towards the elf, to avenge their friend.

And this was the time when every single patron was in awe at the events unfolding before their eyes, and even the drunkest of them somehow snapped back to reality, they were afraid but none found the necessary will power and courage of moving their behinds out of the tavern, not to mention stepping between the fighting parties. How ruthless this raider looked, yet he had a good reason of killing those orcs, perhaps the travelers, the few outsiders that were now inhabiting the tavern didn’t understand, but that was the way of the desert. Water was the most prized possession, the very symbol of absolute power and life.

The woman put her hand on the dagger by her side. She was a skilled warrior and if she were threatened, she wouldn't be afraid to use her skills. It looked as though the woman was in pain, or at least uncomfortable the moment the raider walked into the room. Her Wolf wasn't too happy either, the shaggy face Sarain knew all too well from his childhood looked up at its master with a distressed look on its face. The woman wanted to kill the Raider, even if she wasn't threatened. It the look in her eyes that made it seem obvious.

"This is going to be trouble."

Sarain didn't answer, looking towards the raider as he moved towards the three Orks. The bartender had slid to the ground, too scared to get back up. He sat there, hoping that his place wouldn't be trashed again. The spy wasn't sure if the woman was expecting a reply, but she had turned her head back towards the three Orks. She was still clutching the hilt of her dagger, ready for anything.

It happened quickly. The desert raider moved towards the Ork while simultaneously grabbing his scimitar and hurling it towards the one who spoke, the blade lodging itself into his skull. The Ork had no time to move for the attack had been done in one motion. It was executed with pinpoint accuracy; not even a pixie could have dodged it. The victim dropped to the ground like a rag doll, staining the wooden floorboards with Orks blood. The numerous patrons were in shock, even Sarain didn't know wether to stand up and leave or stay and see how everything unfolded. The Raider had drawn his saw blade, the spy realising that it was enchanted.

That must be why the woman's acting the way she is. The enchantment must be taking a negative effect on her.

Everybody had there eyes on the raider and the two Orks who were quite slow, looking down at there friends and deciding what they should do. Suddenly, there was a loud noise coming from outside. The spy had no idea what it was, but it didn't sound good. It didn't sound natural either, something strange but also quite metallic. That made the people of the tavern even more scared to get up and leave. They had no other choice but to stay in there seats and let fate do its job. Therefore, Sarain stayed in the stool, looking down at the womans dagger. Her beautiful calloused hand were ready to pull the blade out of her belt and kill at any given time and sarain wanted to know when that was going to happen. He wanted to know because once her dagger had left its place by her side, Sarain wouldn't hesitate to follow her lead. He felt that it was his duty to protect her, for he didn't believe that someone like that should house any battle scars.

A few tense moments passed between the time the orc spoke and the time the raider moved. Raven waited out those moments with bated breath, muscles tense as she waited for the raider to take action. She watched as the raider released the barkeep's tunic, letting the frightened man cower under the counter. The elven raider turned his eyes towards the orc, not completely turning his body.

And then it happened. Quick as a snake striking at its prey, the raider drew his scimitar, turning around and swinging the curved blade into the orc's head. The orc's body fell to the ground, a look of pain etched on his face. The feud between orcs and elves was well known, and the attack, while it had come as a surprise, was not exactly unexpected.

What was unexpected, at least to her, was that an elf--one of those born of the forests and the green grass--would carry a sword such as the one that this elf carried, a sword that fought against nature. It didn't seem to make sense, but then again there were odd ones in every race.

It was that even more deadly sawblade that went flying through the air next, soaring in a wide arc before stopping in front of the other two orcs. She knew that the orcs were going to take action soon, either to fight him or to run, and she also knew that this tavern was going to become a bloodbath any second now.

The patrons of the tavern stayed in their seats, wide-eyed with shock. Raven had seen that look before. It would take just one trigger--one sudden movement, and all hell would break loose. The shapeshifter faced a moment of indecision. Was she going to get involved once again in something that wasn't her business? She had escaped the last few times, but this time, she might not be so lucky.

A tense silence descended over the tavern. Nobody dared whisper, and a few of the tavern's patrons were even holding their breath. Eyes drifted occassionally to the dead orc at the raider's feet, blood pooling around him. The barkeep crouched under the counter, whimpering slightly.

A whizzing sound broke the silence as an arrow soared through the air. If shot right, the arrow would do nothing more than graze the outstretched hand of the raider, the one holding the sawblade, before lodging in the opposite wall of the tavern. It was meant to be nothing more than a warning shot. Heads turned in the direction the arrow had come from. Raven had gotten to her feet, her Razor Bow in her hand.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked, eyes narrowed as she looked on the elven raider, "If someone, as you say, stole your water, do you think they'd still be around here waiting for you to kill them?"

Aegis stood up, standing beside Raven and growling at the raider. Raven raised a hand to her quiver, reaching for another arrow. She pulled one out, fitting it loosely to her bowstring. She tensed up, ready in case the elf should attack.

A short while of tension was between the two fighting sides, as the orcs were still recovering from the lose of their friend, and the elf marauder was still awaiting for any retaliation from them, he started offensively but switched quickly to defensive as soon as the first orc hit the floor and shook the whole building with it. They were really big and heavy creature, grappling with one wouldn’t be a wise idea.

Zekhen’s eyes remained in a frown like before, he was so tensed that he even forgot to blink, the blood empowered by adrenaline was pumping through his veins like crazy, the heath of the battle has taken over him, but no, he was not a berserker, a barbarian to attack in an excess of rage, and fight only on instincts. No, he was a fighter, he would calculate every move of his own and his enemies with deadly speed and accuracy.
He could feel some agitated souls within the building and all the eyes locked onto his figure, but he paid no mind to them, since no commoner was able to stand against a desert marauder.

But then the unexpected happened, an arrow was released from a bow which seemingly he failed to notice among the crowd of people from the tavern. He expected another orc, one armed with a bow, a friend of the other free, but no, it was a woman, a woman who looked human in appearance, she released that arrow from her weird bow, the projectile grazed the bracers located along his forearms and wrists. She distracted him. He turned to look at her, his perfect green eyes locking onto hers for a bit of a second, he could see hate and anger in her eyes, all those directed at him. But what did he do to her? It seemed that she was an outsider, she didn’t know the way of the desert, but he didn’t expect her to understand either. As the arrow released its bow and almost impaled the hand of the elf, everyone gasped at the archer, realizing what stupid act she just did. She was in the desert, his ground, the ground of the marauders, how she was expected to fight a whole tribe of the finest and sneakiest warriors of the desert, who also knew how to use the ruthlessness of the terrain on their side?

She found it weird that an elf would wield such an weapon, but her knowledge about elves seemed to be limited, if she never heard about those elves who are born and dwell in the desert. They were not born in any forest, they did not have any beautiful nature to mingle in, all they had was sand, and a different civilization.

The moment of distraction was enough, enough for the orc to smell the opportunity to attack, before Zekhen could even turn his gaze back at his foes, one of the orcs came powerfully, slamming its massive shoulder against more weaker frame of the elf. It send him flying through the tavern, stopping when his back hit against the wall. The figure of the marauder slid down on the floor, he seemed to breath heavily, but the sword remained in his hand. His gaze did not turn to the attacker, but to the archer who had distracted hi as he said the followings.

“I curse you to never leave this desert anymore, orc-lover! I curse you that your end will be brought by the furry of the sand!” Perhaps he didn’t judge her properly, but she didn’t give him any credit either, she judged him all the wrong way. At the hearing of the curse, everyone seemed to wide their eyes in shock, they sure wouldn’t like to be in the woman’s place.
One last powerful breath was given, and the desert elf seemed to have passed out.

The triumphant orc laughed and taking its friend, it started to head towards the passed out elf. They approached, one of them put their massive hand on his shoulder, wanting to lift him up. He wanted to take him as a trophy, showing to everyone else of his clan that the marauders were not as tough as they thought to be. But the eyes of the elf snapped open, his eyes looked like those of an executioner, all this time he was just acting. With a powerful thrust of his arms, he impaled the orc’s mid section with his sawblade, it required a lot of strength since the sword was not made for stabbing. A lot of pain was caused to the orc when its stomach and organs were ravished by the sword, it would join its friend in oblivion soon.

The sword left the orc’s body as soon as it entered, and now was spitted with blood; and before the third orc could do anything against him, Zekhen rolled away from its reach and stood up once more, adopting the same defensive position, but now he was paying attention to the archer woman too. The battlefield was open, if she wanted to come.

Why'd she have to do that?

This was not good. The beautiful bow master had grabbed her bow and notched an arrow. Sarain was too late to stop her as she released the shaft and hit the raider, the iron tip scraping his forearm. Sarain sat down, his hand on the hilt of the dagger and ready to pull it out at a seconds notice. He wanted to tell the girl to leave, run away while she still had a chance. However, something told Sarain that she was the type who didn't like to be pushed around, especially by men. She would stand her ground and nothing Sarain could say would change her mind.

"Is this really necessary? If someone, as you say, stole your water, do you think they'd still be around here waiting for you to kill them?"

Sarain was looking at the womans back, trying not to look further down. He might have been attracted to the girl, but this wasn't the time to be checking her out. Her wolf started to growl at the raider, its aggressive nature showing as it waited for its masters orders. It wanted to kill the Raider as much as the woman did. She notched another arrow, ready for anything. If the raider did anything to her, he'd pay with his head.

The Elf turned towards the threat that had appeared on the other side of the room, which was a stupid mistake. He turned his back towards the Orks, and even they knew that it was the perfect time to attack. The one on the left shoulder charged the stupid Elf, sending him flying across the room. A few patrons had to move out the way as there table toppled over, spilling there beverages. This is when everyone started to whisper amongst themselves. Some of them even started to smile, enjoying the whole situation. There were even people guessing at what was going to happen next. Still no one dared to go outside.

“I curse you to never live this desert anymore, orc-lover! I curse you that your end will be brought by the fury of the sand!”

The raiders words were slurred, his turbine beginning to unravel as he struggled to move. Suddenly, his eyes closed and he let go of the grip he had on his sword. It seemed as though the Orks were triumphant, the large beasts walking towards there victim with large grins on there faces.

This makes up for his idiotic decision to turn his back on them.

Sarain knew that this was a trick. The Elfs fingers twitched as he prepared to strike when they least expected it. The patrons continued to mumble while Sarain watched the raiders hand. He didn't want to say anything for it was not his fight. The beauty made that mistake once she grabbed her bow. Sarain had learnt a long time ago that if you can avoid a fight, then try to avoid it the best you can.

One of the Orks grabbed his shoulder, still thinking that they were triumphant. The he struck, with the speed and accuracy he used just moments ago. Sarain thought that this Elf was much like a snake, striking its prey with one quick motion. It was terrible, Ork blood spurting from the wound and spilling all over the Raider. The snake loved it, laughing as he killed the Ork. The saw cut his insides into shreds, making for a painful death. The screams of the beast were horrifying, a shiver running down Sarains spine as it happened. The Ork wasn't murdered, but executed.

The blade was pulled from his insides, stained with dark blood. The snake rolled over and jumped up from the ground, the Ork thudding to the ground as he died. He looked around and adopted a defensive position, ready for whatever his attackers could throw at him. He payed more attention to the girl, but the Ork looked furious. He grabbed the iron war hammer strapped on his back and lifted it up, shouting as it chanted in its own language. It wanted to smash the snakes face in and it was going to be harder to kill than his two friends.

Sarain had to say something before the woman got hurt, or worse. He didn't want to see her be hit by the raiders sword if she could avoid it. If she wouldn’t back down, Sarain would have to fight alongside her and he didn't want to do that. He was exhausted and wanted to have a few drinks than maybe go find a nice little inn to rest for the night.

"You don't have to fight him, holster your bow and leave."

Why did I have to say it like that?

He said the first thing that came into his head, scared that she would attack before he could get the words out of his mouth. He regretted them for they were sharp and demanding. He didn't want her to think of him as a father figure, but rather a handsome rogue who wanted to save her life. He couldn't change his words now, so he prepared to take his dagger and protect her with his life. He was still sitting down, looking up at her with desperation. She was walking into trouble, trouble she asked for. Moreover, it wasn't because she wanted to save a few Orks, for she wouldn't have let two of them die. This was far from a good situation.

Raven had expected that her actions would elicit some reaction from the elven raider. She had not, however, expected that he would make the mistake of turning away from his main opponent to face her. Seeing that he did made the shapeshifter think that she might have overestimated his skills. His mistake caused him dearly. Raven watched as the orc took advantage of his distraction, barrelling into him and throwing the slender elf against the tavern wall. The elven raider turned to her, hatred and anger evident in his green eyes as he lay sprawled against the wall.

“I curse you to never live this desert anymore, orc-lover! I curse you that your end will be brought by the fury of the sand!”

The elf's words echoed throughout the stillness of the tavern. Raven was suddenly aware of many eyes on her as many of the tavern's patrons turned towards her. The raider's words were slurred, as if he was fighting to hold onto consciousness. As Raven watched, the raider closed his eyes, apparently knocked unconscious by the blow.

Whispers punctuated the silence of the tavern at this, and the people's eyes shifted from her to the orc. As Raven watched, the orc moved closer to the elf, attempting to lift the elf up in order to emphasize his victory. Such a display of arrogance was a foolish move on the orc's part, and this time it cost him his life.

The elf's eyes snapped open, and the deadly sawblade ripped through the orc's stomach. The orc cried out in agony as the blade ripped through his insides, severing vital organs. His cries of pain rang out through the tavern, sounding very much like the cries of a dying animal.

And then, suddenly, all was still again. The orc went limp, its body supported only by the blade that impaled it. With a sickening squelch, the elf withdrew his sword from the orc's stomach and the orc fell to the ground, bathing in a pool of his own dark blood. The look on the elf's face and the sound of the orc's dying screams made it clear to everyone standing there that this had not been a murder. This was an execution.

Raven's gray eyes ghosted over the dead body of the orc and she swallowed to keep bile from rising in her throat. The shapeshifter had no love for orcs, as the elf's words suggested, nor had this been the first time she had seen death. She had seen men die before, some by the hand of others, some admittedly by her own. That never made it pleasant, and she had never liked it. Now was no different.

"Orc-lover?" she questioned, turning to the elf, "You misjudge me. I merely wished to stave off conflict. However, if conflict is what you so dearly desire, I'll be happy to oblige you."

Raven heard a voice behind her and she turned her head only partially towards its speaker. It had been the man she had noticed before, her fellow traveler. She did not turn around to face him, not wanting to mirror the elf's mistake.

"You don't have to fight him, holster your bow and leave."

The man's tone was rather demanding, and that sent a small surge of irriation through the shapeshifter. She had barely been in the man's presence an hour, and that hardly gave him the right to be giving orders. Still, she took into account his words.

"I don't plan to fight him," she said to the man, "I've been traveling and I'm tired. However, if he were to attack me, I would have to fight back, wouldn't I?"

She turned her eyes back onto the scene in front of her. The orc's companion seemed enraged. He held his warhammer in his hands, ready to attack the elf. The shapeshifter turned to the elf as well. If the elf had decided to focus on the orc, she would walk out the door, mount Naith and leave. However if the elf decided to make good on his earlier curse, than she would have no choice but to fight back.

Zekhen had to admit though that the woman with the bow had given him a good reason to be distracted and give the orcs a small moment of confidence, enough for them to step one at a time towards their slaughtering. The elf was not stupid, actually he was very clever, he fought strategically, and as a proof from the three orcs that stood earlier now remained only one, and this certain orc was armed with an warhammer. A strange weapon, one that the elf would never use in his life unless in a dire situation, it was good for nothing, only to slam people around and break their bones, and it was heavy too, hard to control.

A soft nod was given by the elf, and his attention turned at the last of his opponent, yet he could not understand that woman, if she did not plan on fighting him, why would she fire that arrow at him, why did she interfere where she did not belong? He still considered her an orc-lover, not matter what she said or thought. But enough with her, other things were more important now, such as the last standing orc.

The sawblade was gripped powerfully by the elf, he seemed to wait for something, maybe for the orc to make the first move, or he still had other tricks up his sleeve. And indeed he had!

As he was standing there, his snowy-white pet, the albino squirrel emerged from somewhere beneath his cloak, the small thing was hiding there from the very second the battle had started. With great agility it jumped onto the ground and traveled all the way to the orc, and past him. Surprised by this, the orc looked and followed the squirrel with his gaze, even as it went past him. Orcs were not so bright creature as it seemed, it turned his gaze away from its opponent, and that’s all Zekhen has waited for, with a powerful swing of the sword, the orc would have its head rolling down at its feet, and his entire body following soon after. Yet another execution, the orc were now where they deserved to be, that should teach everyone else a lesson when stealing water. Despite that he wielded that sword, the desert elf still had some trace of affinity to nature, squirrels don’t grow in the desert. And they seemed to make a good team together.
“Good job, Niveus, now come back to me.” The squirrel listened to those words and returned to its master’s side as quick as possible, climbing all the way up to the man’s shoulder. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, thinking how the orcs were executed thanks to their own stupidity. Flora’s Bane was now held only in one hand, as he went over to his first victim, retrieving his prized scimitar from its skull. The blood from the swords was wiped off with a piece cloth specially designed for that, and then returned each to their place.

"I don't plan to fight him, I’ve been travelling, and I'm tired. However, if he were to attack me, I would have to fight back, wouldn't I?"

The bow mistress sounded annoyed, turning here head slightly towards Sarain as she spoke. The spy gulped nervously, not knowing what he should be doing or where he should be. He thought that it was his duty to protect this woman, although he didn't even know her name. If he was smart, he would follow his beliefs and not get into a fight that is not his own. The woman turned her head back towards the snake and prepared for the upcoming battle. She was sure that the raider was going to attack her, but instead he turned towards the Ork. Its warhammer was massive, able to crush bone in one fatal blow.

An albino squirrel scampered from the snakes sleeve. This shocked Sarain for a squirrel was a creature of the forest, so what was it doing with a cutthroat raider in the middle of the desert? These were questions Sarain wanted to know, but wouldn't find out for he doubted the snakes chances of survival. If Sarain had anything to do about it, there was no chance of survival for the deadly raider.

The spy was still sitting, clutching his dagger with a sweaty palm. He was ready to draw it, but only when the moment was right. The albino squirrel scampered past the Ork, distracting the stupid beast.

I knew Orks were stupid creatures, but I think I slightly over-estimated there abilities.

Sarain thought that he would put up a good fight, but unfortunately, he was killed with ease. The snake had killed the three Orks in three strikes, which was a feat not many people accomplish. The last one had his head clean cut from his body, the body limply falling to the floorboards. This raider was obviously well trained in desert combat, his style of fighting similar to many other clans that situated the desert wasteland. It was quick and deadly, carried out with pinpoint accuracy.

“Good job Niveus, now come back to me."

Niveus listened to his master and skittered back to him, climbing onto his shoulder. He didn't challenge the woman, but instead walked over to the first Ork he slaughtered and retrieved his scimitar. He then cleaned them with a cloth and out them back in there respective places. While he did this, no one said a word. They were stunned as to what the snake could do and how he did it. Some of the patrons were bandits and others were murderers, but they had never experienced anything like what they had seen this day.

Sarain was the first to move, standing from his stool. He walked over to the raider before he decided to leave. All eyes were focused on the brave spy, wondering what he was doing. He stopped a few paces from the snake and held out his hand. Sarain had seen nothing like what the Raider had accomplished this day and he wanted to congratulate him for it. No one was expecting that, thinking that what the raider did was horrific and he deserved to be murdered.

"Hello Snake, my name is Sarain from clan Rohding. I would like to say thankyou for showing me how to kill a bunch of bloodthirsty Orks."

He held out his right hand, waiting for him to shake it. His left hand was hanging by his side, near his dagger, which was sitting in a sheath made from the finest leather. What the Raider did was sick and he deserved to be punished. It was also a chance to show off to the bow mistress.

(OOC: Sorry, I couldn't think of anything else ^_^ I didn't know if you two wanted a fight or not so throughout this post I was deciding wether I should start a fight or not. I didn't think I should because I Sarain doesn't start fights but I hope we can work with this.)

Raven watched as an albino squirrel leapt from the elf, running onto the floor of the tavern towards the orc. The orc's eyes landed on the small white creature, a puzzled expression on its face as it watched the squirrel run. She had known it was over from the moment the orc's eyes landed on the squirrel. Orcs were known for their brute strength but not for their strength of mind.

She watched as the elven raider stepped forward, swinging the deadly sawblade in a powerful arc. The orc didn't even have time to register what had happened to him before its head was severed from its shoulders. The head dropped to the tavern floor, rolling across the boards and stopping in front of a group of the tavern's patrons. They were holding onto their mugs of ale so tightly that their knuckles were turning white, and were trembling so much that more than half of their ale had landed on the floor.

The floor was now slippery with spilled ale and spilled blood, reminding Raven of another scene she had witnessed in the past. A year ago, in the Wilwarin Inn and Pub, a group of demon hunters had barged in, wanting to kill Raven's Rauko friend Kithara. She along with Kithara and Chrono had fought against the demon hunters in order to protect their friend. What had this fight been for? A matter of pride? An insult?

As Raven watched, the squirrel ran back towards his master, scampering up onto the elf's shoulder and finding a perch there. The elf straightened up, and Raven heard a sound escape the elven raider's lips. The sound did not immediately register in her mind, sounding almost foreign to her. For a moment, she wondered why. It wasn't a sound that was completely new to her. And then the reality of it hit her. The elf was chuckling. He was pleased with the destruction he had wrought--pleased that he had taken life. She looked at him, disgusted.

However, she could not deny that the raider had skill. To kill three orcs with three strikes was an accomplishment, and his use of tactics was, although underhanded, impressive. He would be a formidable opponent if conflict continued to escalate and Raven had no desire to become another body on the tavern floor. She tensed, ready to defend herself should the raider attack.

The raider, however, only walked past her, heading towards the first of his victims. As she watched, the elf picked up his scimitar, and then calmly continued to clean both of his weapons, placing them back in their original positions. Raven's fist tightened around her Razor Bow in anger and frustration. A part of him wanted to scream at him.

Look at this! she wanted to shout, Do you see this? Do you see any of this? Lives ended today because of you, and yet you stand there, and you laugh!

She held her tongue, watching the elf in stony silence. She had killed before, but that had been out of necessity, in a kill or be killed situation. She had never liked it, and she had certainly never laughed about it. She almost couldn't believe the coldness of his heart.

As Raven watched, the man behind her stood up, walking over to the elf. Raven kept her eyes on him, wary. What was he planning? She watched as the man extended a hand towards the elven raider.

"Hello Snake, my name is Sarain from clan Rohding. I would like to say thankyou for showing me how to kill a bunch of bloodthirsty Orks." he said.

Raven's eyes narrowed at this gesture. This elf didn't deserve to be congratulated, although it was a skillful fight. This Sarain, whoever he was, was giving the elf too much credit. But then, Raven noticed that while Sarain's right hand was extended towards the raider in a display of friendship, his left hand hung dangerously close to his dagger. She wasn't sure if he was planning what she thought he was, but she was willing to wait and see.

Her fingers tightened around her arrow, holding it to her bowstring. If there was any sign of trouble, the arrow would fly through the air again, and this time, it would not be a warning shot.

A chuckle he gave, yes, but the chuckle was directed at the squirrel. Judged he was, yes, but he was judged wrong, and by the most inappropriate people in the whole world, and those were the two strangers, everyone else knew the reasons behind those three executions, and that was Water. Water has always and will always bee the most prized possession, stealing water is the greatest crime in the desert. Above all, the orcs had challenged him first, he would have looked weak, and would have made every single raider look the same if he would have fled.

He didn’t desire to be liked by the woman with the bow, he could care less about her thoughts and about her love for orcs, she was hiding behind a bow, two steps and he would be at her throat, she should be thankful that she was spared from a fight. Throwing arrows and interfering in someone else’s business was not the brightest idea.

He was ready to leave now, and everyone else from the tavern was thankful for that, but then a man stood up from his stool, walking to the elf marauder to congratulate him, a hand was extended towards the cloaked figure, but the other one was resting at the hilt of his dagger. Zekhen had keen eyes, he was an elf first and a marauder second, his eyes always scanned for weapons before scanning the people themselves and their faces.
So it seemed that he had made quite a name, now he was called ‘snake’, could fit him. But he was nicknamed differently, namely ‘scorpion’ because he always had that extra advantage down his sleeve, as the scorpion has its wicked poisonous and powerful tail.

“I would rather be called Scorpion than Snake, but call me whatever you wish. I am Zekhen.” He let the man with his arm suspended into the air, he did not take his hand into his to shake, instead he just stepped to the side, where Sarain would be between him and the lady with the bow.

Zekhen looked at Sarain with suspicious eyes, he didn’t like his hand resting on the hilt of the dagger. He didn’t want another fight, to make another victim, but if those two adventurers insisted… He could do nothing but defend himself.

Though, he couldn’t help but wonder why that girl fired the arrow at him, to only retreat after, saying that if he wanted to fight he could. She was strange, she was talking contradictory with herself, but who was he to judge her, perhaps she was bothered by his mere presence, and if so she shouldn’t have ever come to the desert, she knew what would expect her here, had she never heard about the desert raiders, had she not heard what water caused among the dwellers of the desert? Of course she didn’t, the people of the desert, unlike the other ones were not blessed with fertile lands so they could grow up vegetables to eat, were not blessed with whole yards of forests, a nice climate, they were not even blessed with all the water they need in order to survive. And now she dared to come here, she dared to interfere into the way of the desert claiming that she knew what is wrong and what is not. She could not possibly understand him, or anyone else from that tavern, less she could not judge them, it was just wrong. Had she never read that on different places are different law and different values? It seemed like she didn’t.

Sarain knew what he wanted from the moment he came to Angband. He had not come to the desert for a holiday and he didn't come to the dry wastelands if there was not a good reason. The desert was harsh, deadly creatures and even deadlier people walked across the sands. The spy was a desert child, born to a small village that was situated on the northern border of Anfauglir. He didn't remember the time he lived in the desert for he was taken at the age of three, to the Taurai woods where he was bought up by Clan Rohding. He always knew that he was born in the desert, for when he asked why he was different from the rest his lord said that he was taken from a pack of evil humans when he was small.

His lords name was Yohlin Kvohdi, a respected figure in the clan. He took on Sarain when he had arrived in the woods, looking into his eyes and knowing that his heart was pure. Yohlin soon discovered that Sarain had a natural talent for hiding and he nurtured the ability, knowing that he could become something much greater than he could ever be. To cut a long story short, Clan Rohding were a congregation of forest Lupine who had mastered combat and hunting. They used secrecy to hunt and were agile in combat and fast on foot. They taught Sarain to be a Lupine and eventually treated him as one of there own. He wasn't regarded as a human, but as one of them.

Yohlin grew a strong bond with the youngster. By the age of ten, Sarain was inducted into Yohlins family. He was given the name of the clan, which was Rohding and the name of the family, which was Kvohdi. The human loved his life and never thought about going back to his village. He didn't think about if it was abandoned or populated with vibrant people who wondered where the savage Lupines took sarain.

When Sarain turned seventeen, he decided to leave the tribal lands and go see the lands of Ea for himself. He was no a very skilled warrior and his speed was greater than many of his brothers. Now he was in the desert, which he had forgotten a long time ago, wanting to see his village once more. He had become a mercenary, taking up his skills in infiltration and becoming a spy for whoever needed it. He had never been back to the Taurai woods, knowing that he was a very different person from the one who had left them eight years ago.

“I would rather be called Scorpion than Snake, but call me whatever you wish. I am Zekhen.”

Sarain jumped back into reality as he heard the Raiders voice. He had been thinking about this moment for a long time and now it was coming true. The Elf moved to the Spies left side, putting sarain in-between the bow mistress and himself. She was still holding an arrow to the string, ready to let it go at a moments notice. Sarain dropped his hand as he realized Zekhen wasn't going to shake it. The desert dweller seemed quite nervous, looking down at sarains dagger as he prepared to be attacked. If Sarain wanted to kill the Raider, he would be dead by now.

"I would like to ask you something. You know the desert well so I was wondering if you knew of a village to the north. If you do, I need a guide and I have coins to hire one."

Sarain expected the woman to be surprised. She was still acting hostile, aiming her bow at Zekhen. The spy was not going to fight him, although he thought about it for a few seconds. He didn't want to deal with someone who called himself Scorpion, but he had no other choice. The spy didn't like the Elf, but he wanted to find this village and also wanted to be safe while doing so. He still had his left hand by his side, just in case something happened and he needed protection. If the woman attacked, which would be an idiotic act of a beautiful woman, he would help her. However, that would mean he would have to find another way to trek across the harsh desert and he wasn't forward to that.

(OOC: sorry I had to put you through my history, I hope you enjoyed it ^_^ )

Raven lowered her bow, hesitantly at first, but becoming even more sure as the moments passed. She retured the arrow to her quiver, slinging the bow over her shoulder. She had done it again, jumped into a situation without first thinking things through. That didn't make what had taken place in the tavern any less horrible, and for that reason, Raven continued to watch the raider warily. She took her seat again, bringing Aranel's pouch back into her lap. The rabbit seemed frightened with all the goings on, and Raven reached her hand inside the pouch, calming her newest familiar with gentle strokes. She did not attack. Another battle was not needed here.

She continued to watch the spy--Sarain--and the raider--Zekhen--as introductions passed between them. Sarain's request intrigued her somewhat, seeing as she was here in the desert for a reason, and not just because she had felt like it.

It had been at the Ehtele'mele Festival at Lomedor that Raven had stopped to help a merchant whose stall had been knocked over. The merchant had thanked her and asked for her name. She had given it, and the merchant had informed her that he had recently met two people with the same surname on the road to Lomedor. One of them had been named Faolan Silverflame. The other had been introduced to the merchant as his son. The merchant had informed her that Faolan had told him that he would be investigating a rumor about the desert, and that he had decided to bring his son along. The merchant had told her that they would be heading towards 'a little out-of-the-way village north of that thieves' den'.

Faolan Silverflame, a man she had only heard of in her mother's stories. He was her father, and he had disappeared the day she was born. Her mother believed him to be dead. Until recently, Raven believed the same. The merchant's tale brought a new set of questions to the shapeshifter's mind. If her father was alive, why didn't he come back to them? If he had a son, did that mean that he had abandoned her mother? She had wanted answers, and so, she followed the merchant's lead.

It was Sarain's words that reminded her of the reason she had come to the Anfauglir Desert--the place she had avoided since the death of a dear friend. She did not know the desert as well as she knew some of the forests of Arda, and for that, she would need a guide. The elven raider seemed to know the desert well, but they had hardly gotten off on the right foot, and he was not the kind of person Raven wanted around.

How much did she want answers? How much did she want to find out what had happened to the father she had never known? Was she willing to swallow her pride for this? She decided that she was. Ever since the merchant had told her this, a certain hunger had been eating away at her from the inside. She needed to know, needed to understand. Was he alive? Was it really him? All these questions had been passing through her mind since she had left Lomedor.

Raven stood up, placing Aranel's pouch back onto her seat as she walked over to the two. She turned to Zekhen.

"I also need to go to this village," she said, "We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I apologize for that. My name is Raven Silverflame."

Zekhen was slowly starting to become annoyed, and was only one step away from bursting into a justified anger especially against the woman with the bow, he could not believe himself that he did nothing against her for the fact that she fired that arrow at him. Well other than cursing her, well he was no sorcerer nor wizards so he didn’t really know how much that would really affect her. He shook his head slightly and eyed the two strangers once more. He could spot the pupils of the man dilating slowly, his body was there but his mind was traveling far away to other places, unreachable through physical means, didn’t that mean that he just lowered his guard before the desert raider? Since the elf was so good at suspecting the people’s mistakes, take the orcs for example, he needed only one moment of distractions and everything would be ended in a few seconds. But yet again he had nothing against this stranger, even if he had something against him, that could be seen on his face for awhile, but it didn’t matter, travelers came and go. That hostility displayed on Sarain’s face disappeared in the very moment when he asked the desert elf for something, to act as a guide, now where did he hear that before, oh yes, everyone who met him wanted to hire him as a guide.

Before another reply could be given by Zekhen, the woman approached him too, but not with the bow directed at him, for her own sake she realized what is good for her and what is not. The elf wanted to laugh, now they both wanted him as a guide, but the good thing was that they were heading towards the same direction.

“Now now, let’s talk outside.” Everyone’s eyes were still thrown into his direction, and it started to get uncomfortable already. The scarf covering his mouth didn’t allow the others to see that he was actually smiling, a sarcastic smile no doubt.
He turned on his heels and headed outside through the very door he kicked open earlier when he arrived. The heat of the sun already beginning to wash over him, though his clothes allowed him to stay cool during the days and warm during the nights, and he was also used with such colossal temperatures, but for the two strangers traveling could prove a little harder.

His perfect green eyes scanned the surroundings for a few seconds, before he called out. “Iye, come here friend.” Hearing those words, the perfectly white horse waiting outside began to head towards its master, it was a very well trained animal and it was Zekhen’s pride, they went through so many together, and the elf was fighting even better from the back of that horse. He took the horse by the reins and scanned the area once more, a hangar has been spotted. ‘That’s where the water should be hidden…’ he thought, and quickly wandered that way, like he expected, a cart was waiting there, loaded with the water stolen from the marauders. “Why you!” He clenched his fists and grunted in anger, so he was right, the owner of the tavern was behind this from the beginning, he just acted innocent in front of the marauder. Releasing the reins of the horse, he would head back into the tavern. The albino squirrel on the other hand jumped off his shoulder and landed on the saddle equipped on Iye.

Though Zekhen expected that the owner fled already through a back door, well he can run, but he can’t hide, eventually he will be found. He probably hired the orcs to steal the water and that should have remained secret, but the pride of the orcs got in the way, thinking that they could get the elf down easily.

The patrons were still interested in what was happening, staring at Sarain as he asked for Zekhens services. The spy tried to keep his voice down so that his words would be harder to make out but the noise in the tavern was minimal. Sarain had noticed that the skinny bartender had left via the back door, crawling on all fours to get away from any more misunderstandings. The desert elf did not notice him, too focused on Sarain and the woman who was beginning to let her guard down. She was releasing the strain on the bowstring, realising that there was not going to be a fight if she didn't attack. Zekhen wasn't interested in a fight, just the water that was stolen from him. He wanted it as soon as possible, so that he could have the drink he desperately needed.

After a few seconds of deliberation, the bow mistress let go of the string, strung the bow on her back and placed the arrow back in the quiver. Before Zekhen could answer Sarains request, his eyes were diverted towards the woman as she placed her pouch on the stool and walked towards him. She looked as though she wanted something and the Elf was the only one that could help her. A look of disgust appeared behind a fake smile as she spoke.

"I also need to go to this village. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I apologize for that. My name is Raven Silverflame."

Raven Silverflame, a name that adds to her stunning looks and makes her appear more beautiful.

Sarain tried to keep his composure as Raven stood close to him, her grey eyes leading to another dimension and her soft skin protecting her beautiful soul from corruption.

Why does she have this effect on me? This has never happened to me before.

It was strange, the spy trying to keep his eyes focused on why he had come to Angband and not on the beautiful woman who was standing next to him. Zekhen looked exhausted and fed up with the people of the tavern, especially Raven who the raider had hated ever since he laid eyes on her. Some people just don't mix.

“Now now, let’s talk outside.”

With these words, Zekhen turned around and headed towards the door. He didn't look back, knowing that the threat of a conflict was long gone. The tavern would continue as it normally did once he left and after a few days, everyone would forget and something new would draw there attention. Sarain didn't wait a moment longer, following the Elf as he left. He obviously didn't want anyone to hear there dealings, just in case someone decided to follow them or took there conversation and used it to there advantage. The spy didn't know how that was possible, but anything could happen in the Realm of Arda. He had learnt a long time ago not to take things for granted.

Sarain knew that Raven would follow as he walked out the door. Zekhen was standing in the middle of the laneway, a white horse standing next to him as he clutched its reins. It was a mighty steed, comfortable in the desert heat. Heat waves were flowing through the air as a few people walked past, dressed in clothes that were meant to keep the heat out.

A pair of baggy pants and a thick scarf around my face would be a good development.

Sarain smiled at his pathetic joke, trying to stay positive in the thick humidity and the sharp heat.

“Why you!”

The Elf wasn't happy, his eyes glaring towards the small warehouse next to the tavern. The doors were closed, but the spy presumed the Elf thought his water was in there. There was a high likelihood that it was, a cart sitting at the door used to transport large amounts of supplies. But then again it might be full of beer and whisky.

Zekhen stormed past Sarain, ignoring him as he walked into the tavern once more to sort out his water issue. If he was looking for the owner, he would be sorrily disappointed. He had disappeared out the back door, hoping the raider would leave and bother someone else. The infiltration mercenary decided that it was best to wait outside, knowing that Zekhen would eventually come back and talk to him. If he didn't, Sarain would find him and give him an offer he couldn't refuse. He was skilled in diplomacy which meant that he could make the snake help him, no matter what it took.

(OOC: Sorry for the late reply. I Haven't been too active lately :( )

((Sorry this took so long, I'm out of town and this is my first chance to use a computer.))

Raven nodded, following Zekhen and Sarain outside. The moment she stepped out of the tavern, a wave of heat washed over her, making her head spin slightly. The shapeshifter was not used to such high temperatures. She remembered too late that she had not brought anything to cover her head, which might give her difficulty traveling in the desert. Her eyes drifted over the people surrounding them. All of them were dressed for the desert. Her own clothes, while comfortable for traveling, seemed rather hot and sticky compared to everyone else's.

She watched as Zekhen called out and a white horse made its way over to him. Raven's eyes drifted to her own mount. Naith, unfortunately, was black, which made her own warhorse less comfortable in the desert than Zekhen's white steed. He turned his head at her approach and Raven walked over to him. If the horse was uncomfortable, it didn't show it. Raven stroked her familiar's mane softly as she untied the reins, bringing the horse over to where Sarain and Zekhen were.

As she watched, the elf's eyes landed on a nearby warehouse. The doors of the warehouse were closed, but a cart stood in front of it. The cart was large, something Raven would expect to be filled with supplies. The raider seemed to think that water was hidden inside the cart. It might have been possible, but then again it could have been filled with anything. This was a tavern after all.

She watched as the elf released his horse's reins, storming his way back into the tavern in search of the barkeep no doubt. The tavern owner, however, was not to be found. As Raven watched, a skulking shape appeared from the back door of the tavern, creeping its way past them and to the maze of streets that was Angband. Zekhen's search of the tavern would be in vain.

Raven remained outside, keeping her hands firmly on Naith's reins even as the warhorse tried to tug them out of her hands. No doubt the elven raider would be back, and then they would talk about leaving the desert. In the meantime, the shapeshifter turned her eyes to the spy in front of her--Sarain.

"Any special reason you want to go to this village?" she asked.

If she was going to be traveling with these people, she at least wanted to know what to expect. There would be no harm in starting a conversation with this person. Perhaps she might even learn something that would be helpful to her. In the past, she had come across many other adventurers, most of which had helped her in some way. Others had been hindrances, but then again, she couldn't expect everyone to be on her side. She hoped that at least one of her traveling companions wouldn't give her difficulty, and she knew that was too much to ask from the elf.

Sarain was getting quite fed up with the hot weather of Anfauglir. He hired a camel at the southern edge and had travelled a fair distance without the proper attire. What made it worse was that he was wearing black, a midnight cape hanging from his neck an improvised heat sponge. His black hair didn't help his cause and altogether, he was a magnet for the heat of the desert.

Before I leave, I must buy some proper clothing.

It would help to buy a horse aswell for Raven and Zekhen both had horses of there own. If he couldn't find one, the only option would be to share with the beautiful Raven. He would have to insist because looking for a horse was a waste of valuable time and neither Raven nor Sarain wanted to spend extra time in the heat. The spy wondered how long Zekhen would be in the Inn. Maybe he would find out that the Barkeep left through the back door and would chase after him. It wouldn't matter because eventually they were going north, to the village that held all the answers.

"Any special reason you want to go to this village?"

Raven spoke, her voice slightly husky from dehydration. Sarain wasn't going too well either, his drink cut short when Zekhen spoiled it by starting a fight with a trio of Orks. Sarain didn't want to stand in the sun for a second longer, spotting a large awning that was perfect for getting out of the sun.

"If we stand out here any longer, we'll burn to death. Come; let us talk under the shade."

The spy wasn't sure that telling Raven the whole truth was a smart idea. He had learnt that you should trust nobody, not even your family and friends. Although this woman was attractive, she might have been a spy herself. Sarain doubted that was true for he could normally figure out what a person did for a living just by looking at them. This woman was skilled with the bow, maybe talking up mercenary work or even being an innocent traveller who wanted to see Arda for what it really was. Either way this woman was an archer and if you carried a bow, you weren't on a spying mission.

Sarain walked over to the awning, a small bench sitting under it. The bench was old and worn, vomit dried up in the dust next to it after a man decided to sit down after a drink at the bar. He beckoned the bow mistress to sit, hoping that they could have a civilised discussion before Zekhen came back from his mission to kill the barkeep.

(OOC: Zekhen said that we could go on without him and he'll join once he gets his creativity back)

Raven nodded at Sarain's words, recognizing the truth in them. The head beat down on her hard, and for a moment she wished that her long black hair had been shorter, and perhaps a different color. The heat was beginning to get to her, making her dizzy. She wondered if she might suffer a heatstroke soon. That wouldn't be a good thing to happen, especially not while traveling.

She followed Sarain over to the shaded bench. The archer eyed the bench for a while, not quite sure if it was sturdy enough to support their weight. It seemed to have seen better days, and looked as if it might crumble at any moment. A lot of things had happened to her today but she didn't want getting dumped in the sand to be added to the list. Deciding that the bench was safe enough, Raven took her seat, careful to avoid the dried up vomit near her right foot. The shade was a blessing after the heat of the sun and Raven was thankful for it. Naith was as well. Her black horse stood close to the tree, as far away from the heat as possible.

She turned to Sarain beside her. Raven wasn't exactly sure what to make of this stranger. He had seemed to be an okay sort, but then Raven was no fool. She knew that people who seemed okay could suddenly change at the last moment, and preferred not to trust anyone too much until she knew them well. She could tell that this warrior held many secrets, and she didn't intend to try and learn them. She was the type of person who respected other people's privacy. As long as the secrets that people kept would cause no harm to herself or to anyone else she knew and cared about, she let them keep their secrets to themselves.

The white wolf beside her didn't appear to know what to make of Sarain either. Aegis sat beside her, watching the stranger warily but not making any move to attack. Raven had learned long ago that although Aegis was basically suspicious of every stranger he met, they weren't usually to be worried about unless the white wolf openly showed any signs of hostility. Usually, he was content with sniffing around and watching them warily. An exception to the rule was Raven's Rauko friend, Kithara. Aegis had never liked her, even though Kithara hadn't done anything actually harmful to either of them.

As she watched, Aegis got up from his place beside her, sniffing Sarain curiously. Raven shot the white wolf a sharp glance. Most people did not take kindly to having a wolf sniff at them, fearing that it would follow with a bite. The white wolf looked up at her, before continuing his inspection.

"Sorry about that," said Raven to Sarain, gesturing at her familiar, "Aegis doesn't take to strangers easily. He doesn't usually bite though, and if he was going to, he would have tried to earlier."

She sat down next to him, slowly lowering herself for the fear that the bench wouldn't hold there weight. She had quite an array of familiars, a horse and wolf following her into the shade. They weren't used to the harsh conditions of the desert, the wolves thick coat of fur and the horses black body making it worse for them as it was for Raven and Sarain. No one there was meant to be in the desert heat for they were creatures of rolling plains and thick forests. This landscape was very different from the rest of Arda and it was the ultimate test of mental and physical strength.

The sweat of the two made an interesting smell, Sarain trying to ignore it as they sat. He could tell that they both needed a bath and they were both looking forward to one after there business was done. They could even find a place to wash before they set off towards the mysterious village, for they were in no rush. The village wasn't going anywhere and Sarain was both hungry and tired. The bustle of Angband wasn't as prominent in this area of town as in other places. The afternoon sun kept people indoors in the most part, the few people that were walking on the street being either homeless or travellers looking for a place to drink and sleep.

Ravens white wolf was quite intimidating. He sat at her feet and looked at sarain with a watchful stare. The spy felt as though he couldn't move for the wolf would take a chunk out of his leg if he did. It was even more frightening when the wolf stood up and moved towards him, a slight moment of fear making Sarain jump as he prepared for the wolf to attack. He looked at Raven, wondering if she saw the slight weakness Sarain showed in the moment of danger.

I don't think she saw me.

She was too preoccupied with the heat, trying to get more comfortable as her clothes stuck to the rotting wood of the bench. The wolf began to sniff him and Sarain realized that the wolf meant no harm towards him. It was just like a dog with large fangs and sharp claws. Sarain kept his eyes on the wolf, looked at his eyes as he continued his inspection. If he looked up, he would have seen Raven looking at the wolf with embarrassment. She didn't want her familiar sniffing a man she had just met for it didn't make a good first impression.

"Sorry about that. Aegis doesn't take to strangers easily. He doesn't usually bite though, and if he was going to, he would have tried to earlier."

"That's reassuring. I'm sure he means no harm, he's just protecting what he loves."

The spy smiled as Aegis continued to sniff, trying to ignore the wolf. A few seconds later, he was content with what he smelt and sat back down at Ravens side. He had obviously approved of Sarains presence but kept his eyes on him, just in case the strange man tried something.

"What do you think of our Elven companion. I don't think we can trust him, but he is of course the only person that can help us find this place."

Sarain wanted to change the subject, avoiding each other and talking about the raider that was currently looking for the man that he thought stole his water. The spy wanted to avoid questions about each other for as long as possible for that led to unnecessary complications. They would have enough time to discuss each other on the long trip north, to the village that was his place of birth.

"That's reassuring. I'm sure he means no harm, he's just protecting what he loves," said Sarain.

Raven smiled at this, watching as Aegis continued his inspection of the newcomer. The white wolf had its faults, what creature didn't, but over the one year that she had Aegis by her side, the two of them had grown quite close. Aegis protected her, and she did the same for him in turn. And she had to hand it to Aegis to put up with her other familiars and all the crazy things they had gotten into.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," said Raven, keeping her eyes on her familiar as he returned to her side. She placed her hand on his head, scratching him behind the ears slightly. The wolf looked at her for a moment, before lying down, keeping its eyes on the street.

She turned her head to Sarain at the man's question. She didn't quite know what to make of the elven raider. She didn't particularly like Zekhen, and was less than happy about having to travel with him, but she needed answers, and she had to hurry before her father, if that was really who he was, left the desert. If that happened, she would probably never find him. Arda was a big place, and who knew where he might go after that.

"I don't trust him," said Raven, finally, after considering all this, "But you're right. He's the only person who can get us where we need to be. I know next to nothing about the desert. If I travel on my own, I don't doubt I'll get there, but by then it might already be too late..."

She realized she was beginning to talk too much and fell silent. Her eyes drifted to the pouch in her lap. It occurred to her that she hadn't let Aranel out since last night when they had camped. If the heat was that bad outside, she wondered how it must have felt inside the pouch. Raven turned to Aegis, whose eyes had drifted close.

"Aegis," she called. The white wolf's head snapped up and he turned to her. "I'm going to let Aranel out. Make sure she doesn't get too far away, all right?"

With that, she opened the pouch, pulling out her Ehtele'mele bunny and putting the small rabbit in her lap. She stroked the distraught animal for a moment, watching as it looked around and tried to get used to its surroundings. She could feel it quivering in her hands and knew that her latest familiar was quite scared.

"Sorry about leaving you in there all day," she said as the rabbit finally stopped quivering. Raven placed her on the ground, where she could stay under Aegis's watchful gaze. The white wolf gave her a look that seemed to say: 'The things I do..." before keeping a watchful eye on the small rabbit. Aranel hopped around in the sand, nibbling on the sparse grass that grew beside the tree. Naith, who was also grazing on the sparse grass, cracked an eye open to regard the rabbit for a moment, before nudging her away from his chosen grazing spot. Raven couldn't help smile at the antics of her familiars.

It was obvious what Raven thought of the raider. The spy saw it in her eyes the first time she saw the elven scum. Her actions in the tavern were those of a woman who was pained by Zekhens presence. Raven took a shot at him with her bow and the Elf wouldn't forget it. He was the type who took revenge and there was no doubt that if the opportunity arose, he would kill the human mullet.

“I curse you to never leave this desert anymore, orc-lover! I curse you that your end will be brought by the fury of the sand!”

Sarain remembered what Zekhen said as he lay sprawled against the wall. It was more a promise than a curse and he wouldn't let her leave the desert, wanting her to see the sand in her face before her death. She would be killed in the sand and buried in the sand, her sole unable to find a way out of the never-ending desert. That wasn't going to happen if Sarain had anything to do with it. Zekhen would lead them both to the village, take his reward then leave. The village was on the outskirts of the desert and it would be easy to find his way back to the green grass of Arda.

"I don't trust him, but you're right. He's the only person who can get us where we need to be. I know next to nothing about the desert. If I travel on my own, I don't doubt I'll get there, but by then it might already be too late..."

She cut short as she realized she had said enough. It was obvious that she was going for an item or person before it left the village. Sarain didn't care why she was going for he would find that out if the gods wanted him to. If not, then he was happy for her to keep it a secret. The bow mistress turned to Aegis, wanting something from the over-protective familiar.

"Aegis, I'm going to let Aranel out. Make sure she doesn't get too far away, all right?"

With that, she opened the pouch and picked up a small rabbit with her long fingers. Sarain wondered if she had any more secret familiars that were hidden somewhere. The spy didn't understand how she looked after a collection of pets that large. She needed hay for the horse, meat for the wolf and carrots for the rabbit. Sarain decided that he would ask her one day, but for now, it didn't matter. Raven talked to her rabbit, saying sorry for keeping it in her pouch all day. The heat in the bag would have been twice as bad as the air outside. Sarain didn't know how the rabbit dealt with those conditions for he was about to die in the heat outside. Although they seemed small and insignificant, the forest animals were quite tough.

Raven let the rabbit go, the small bunny hopping towards the grass that grew underneath the tree. The horse didn't like Aranel stealing his grass for it was quite sparse, so he decided to nudge his tiny friend out of the way. The bunny got the point and left the horse to eat the grass, feeling humiliated and hungry. Raven smiled as she watched her familiars. Sarain looked at her, the soft smile of the mysterious woman sending shivers down his spine. It was more comforting than the frown that sat on her face at the bar when she held the bow in her hands.

"I see you have a wide selection of pets. They're very interesting, how long have you four been a family?"

He asked the question to all of them, although he knew that only Raven could answer. He was beginning to like the three animals as much as he liked Raven, there personalities evident as they wondered in the unfamiliar sand. Sarain could imagine the elven raider wondering around the tavern, asking the patrons where he went and threatening the ones who looked suspicious. He would come back and if he didn't, they'd have to find another way to this village.

(OOC: Lol, I love the word filter. Human mullet, what a crack up)

"The four of us?" asked Raven, repeating Sarain's question to herself. She thought back to the time she had met each of her familiars. Each of them had been different circumstances, and each of them brought to mind particular memories.

"Aegis has been with me for over a year now," said Raven, turning to Sarain. "I found him in the Ered Annon Mountains. He was badly injured, and his whole pack had been killed. I have a bit of skill as a healer, so I healed his wounds and gave him some food."

She paused, watching as her faithful white wolf kept a sleepy eye trained on Aranel, ready to intervene if the rabbit got too far away. Aranel, however, seemed content with sheltering in the shade under her black warhorse. Naith glanced at the rabbit in annoyance, deciding that eating was more important than shooing the small creature away. Raven turned away from her familiars, turning back to Sarain.

"I intended to leave without him the next day, but that night our small group was attacked by a demon. Aegis protected me, and he's stuck with me ever since. It was a little odd getting used to at first, but I've gotten used to it."

Raven's thoughts drifted to another one of her familiars, Naith. This one also carried his story with it, although it was a story of a different kind.

"I've had Naith for about three months now, although I've only started taking him around for about a month. Naith was a gift from my guild--the Syndicate of Blades, but I never bothered to take him out of the stables, except to ride around and give him exercise. When the Syndicate disbanded, I couldn't just leave him, so I took him with me. He's been well-trained but a bit irritable. He was bred to carry men in all their armor, not archer women like me. I suppose that might have something to do with it."

And then there was the third familiar to think about--Aranel. Aranel, like Naith and Aegis, had come as a bit of a surprise to her. She hadn't expected to be in charge of a small rabbit any more than she had expected to be in charge of a white wolf and a black warhorse.

"Aranel I got at the recent Ehtele'mele festival in Lomedor," said Raven, "I wasn't expecting the egg I recieved to hatch, least of all into a rabbit, but it did so it looks like I'm stuck with her. She's a sweet thing, really, but she's hard to look after in a fight. Aegis and Naith can take care of themselves, but Aranel can't, which is why I let her ride in one of Naith's saddlebags."

"What about you?" she asked, turning to Sarain, "No animal familiars?"

She hadn't noticed any animals near Sarain, and Aegis would have sniffed them out if there were. This didn't surprise her, since a lot of people didn't keep familiars, preferring to travel alone.

Aegis, a wolf that lost his family and everything he loved. He possessed his fathers eyes, Yohlin Kvohdi who was a Lupine of clan Rohding. Sarain felt an immediate connection with the wolf, knowing that his kind and Sarains kind made the people that the spy held close to his heart. He knew that Aegis felt the same way he did. When he sniffed Sarain and smelt the scent of a wolf, he knew that they were of the same kind. The spy didn't know how the wolf would react, chancing few meetings with there kind. He expected the worst, but it never came for the wolf realized that Sarain was a friend, not foe.

Raven spoke of her familiars and how they came to be by her side. She spoke of how Naith was a gift from her guild and the rabbit hatched from an egg, which was quite bizarre for Sarain didn't know that was possible. The spy hadn't heard much of the Lone warriors, over-hearing a few discussions at the pub in Lomedor. It didn't matter for that was in the past, the guild disbanding not too long ago but long enough for Sarain to not bother with any questions.

"What about you, no animal familiars?"

Sarain looked at the rabbit that was sitting in the shade of Naith and realized how lonely he was. His job required him to not have any relationships with anyone for it could give away his occupation. He learnt that from Yohlin who was experienced in infiltration and sneak attacks. He had never been a spy for it wasn't necessary, the wolf staying with his clan and only using his skills when hunting. Yohlin knew that Sarain would leave and he knew that he would become a master spy, someone that couldn't be seen if he didn't want to be.

"No animal familiars."

Sarains remark was straight forward, no need for an explanation. There was a moments silence before he spoke, thinking on what he just said. One day he'd find someone but when that day came, he'd have to stop being a spy and become someone he's not. He was dreading that day, but also wanted it to come for spying is a dangerous affair, no matter how good you are.

"Have you ever been to the Taurai woods, where the grass is at its thickest and the trees sing your name?"

This question was contemplation, Sarain thinking back to when he played with Johdlin in the stream near the village. They wrestled when they were young and talked when they were older, his Lupine friend forgetting that he was different from the rest. The smell of honey filled the air as bees buzzed around the wood, looking for the flowers that were bigger and brighter than the rest. Deer dashed across the grass, the thirsty ones stopping at brooks for a little drink of water. Nevertheless, all should be forgotten for Sarain would never go back there, even when he's plagued with arthritis with wrinkles covering his body.

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and waited for Ravens reply, knowing that whenever he's around her he'll remember the soft grass and the beautiful birds. Whenever he looks at Aegis, he'll remember his fathers eyes as he told him that he loved him, no matter how different he was. The problem was he couldn't remember forever, for his own thoughts would murder him.

(OOC: Don't you just hate it when you read through a post and it isn't the quality post you expected it to be >_< )

Raven nodded at Sarain's words. As expected, he didn't appear to have any animal familiars. She didn't really think much of it, though. There were many people she knew that didn't much care for having a constant companion, or preferred a companion that spoke.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, Raven glancing occassionally at her familiars to make sure that everything was alright. Naith seemed to have finished off with the patch of grass under the tree and was now looking around for more. The black horse found another patch of grass on the other side of the tree and promptly began eating that as well. Aranel protested the loss of her shade, following Naith to the other side of the tree and staying under him.

She looked up as Sarain spoke again, asking her if she had ever been to the Taurai Woods. Raven had been to a lot of the places on Arda, and Taurai Woods had been one of them. She had been there twice that she could remember, and only once with Aegis. The other time had been a long while in her past, shortly after her mother's death.

"Yes, I have," she replied, "Twice actually, but both have been very brief trips. Why do you ask?"

From the way he spoke about the woods, Raven got the feeling that it was a place very dear to him. She wondered if he had perhaps lived nearby or in the woods itself. Small villages growing in and around forests was not a foreign idea to her--her own village had been somewhat the same. He certainly did not appear like he was from the desert, he wasn't even dressed for it. He was probably only here to head to this village, for whatever reason. She realized that he had been avoiding the topic of why they were heading there since they began talking.

This didn't bother her one bit, after all, people did have their own secrets. She herself had a few secrets of her own, but it got her thinking about something else. Both she and the raider owned horses, meaning that they would easily be able to travel faster than Sarain could. How would he be able to keep up?

"Sarain," she said, turning to him, "How are you going to be able to keep up with us if the two of us have horses and you don't?"

Naith could easily carry the weight of two people, mused Raven, looking at the black horse. He had been bred to carry armored knights. Neither she and Sarain wore any armor, other than Raven's chainmail which was hardly anything. Perhaps if Sarain couldn't find any other way, he could ride with her. If Raven could persuade Naith to carry him, he could also ride alone. Being a shapeshifter, she would find a way to keep up. Transforming into a falcon or an eagle wouldn't be that hard, nor would turning into another horse.

((OOC: Sarain, Raven's former guild was the Syndicate of Blades, not the Lone Warriors.))

"Yes, I have. Twice actually, but both have been very brief trips. Why do you ask?"

Sarain looked at her with respect. Her beauty ran through his mind, Raven running through his mind repeatedly. He looked at her hair, her smooth skin and the smile that sent shiver down his spine. Her looks weren't the cause of this attraction, although she was magnificently beautiful. Rather it was the way she was, the way the woman acted and the way she moved. What attracted Sarain to her was the fact that she was Raven Silverflame.

"I ask because it takes my mind off of this sandy wasteland."

He smiled as he looked at her, the woman looking at her familiars just incase they were doing something they weren't supposed to. Sarain could see in her eyes how much she cared for them. If they were in danger, she'd give her life to save them. That was something that Sarain respected for it meant that you weren't a selfish pig.

"Sarain, how are you going to be able to keep up with us if the two of us have horses and you don't?"

the spy had thought about this not too long ago. He thought that he might buy a horse for he had the money. Becoming a spy was a very smart choice economically for the petitioners were usually rich nobles or traders. His money bags were filled with coins, kept hidden under his clothing. But although he knew that buying a horse would be a logical option, he wanted to ride with Raven. There was something inside that told him to say this, but he didn't want to put his heart infront of business and logic.

"I can buy a horse before we leave. You can buy the supplies we need for the journey while I go find a stable."

Would you mind if I rode with you?

He regretted not saying the thought that ran through his head. He rarely had the opportunity to follow his heart and the one time he met a girl that blew him away, he had to follow logic and reason. Sarain decided not to dwell on it for what's done is done and he couldn't reverse it.

"Or I could ride with you instead, if you don't mind."

Stupid Sarain.

He didn't think about it, his words coming from the heart. He didn't know why he said it but he knew that he would regret it if he didn't. He awaited her reply, and Zekhens return.

(OOC: Sorry about the guild thing, my mistake.)

Sarain’s request struck Raven as slightly odd, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been expecting it. Horses were expensive, both to buy and to care for, and they weren’t something one bought just for a single journey. Naith had been a gift, so luckily, she hadn’t had to pay for him, but she wouldn’t have bought a horse if she could. It made sense for Sarain to ask to ride with her, although she hadn’t expected he would actually ask.

“I don’t mind,” said Raven, “Naith could easily carry both of us. Or, if you would be more comfortable, you could ride Naith and I could shapeshift.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the realization of what she had given away hit her. She wasn’t one to casually blurt out the fact that she was a shapeshifter, preferring to keep the element of surprise to herself, however it happened occasionally that she felt comfortable enough talking to a person to let that fact slip. She didn’t think Sarain harbored any bad intentions towards her, although she was notably not the best judge of character. That was usually Aegis’s job.

The white wolf, however, didn’t particularly mind Sarain’s presence, meaning that he must have thought Sarain was a good person, or at least, not a particularly threatening one. It must have meant that she wasn’t going to go up against Sarain in a fight anytime soon, meaning that it was all right if she revealed her shapeshifting ability to him. It was actually more favorable that he knew, that way he wouldn’t be too surprised if the two of them ended up battling something or someone—she still didn’t trust the elven raider—in the future.

The shapeshifter thought back to Seth, remembering that he hadn’t taken well to discovering her ability. They had been in a battle back then, and he had gotten distracted and injured. If Sarain knew what to expect, the same thing wouldn’t happen to him. She still didn’t intend to let Zekhen know about her ability though. If he ended up fighting them, she intended to have some sort of advantage against him and his nature-killing sawblade. And if the two of them fought a common enemy and Zekhen got distracted and killed by her shapeshifting, it would be no skin off her back. She had already decided that while she would have to cooperate with the elf, that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Raven turned to Sarain, waiting for any sort of reaction. She had seen all sorts of different reactions upon telling people about her abilities. She had seen shock many times, notably in the case of one swordsman she had met outside of Lomedor. Shock had also been the case with Seth, although she wasn’t sure if that had truly been shock or something a bit less friendly behind it (he had after all called them “her freak powers”). She hoped Sarain’s would be a bit milder though. For some reason, she didn’t want Sarain to shun her because of her ability.

((Sarain, look at the friends part in my signature ^_^))

“I don’t mind, Naith could easily carry both of us. Or, if you would be more comfortable, you could ride Naith and I could shapeshift.”

Sarain noticed that every time Raven spoke she gave away a little bit about herself.

Small group was attacked by a demon...Bit of skill as a healer...But by then it might already be too late...I could shapeshift.

A...a shapeshifter.

This struck Sarain as a surprise. He had dealt with many shapeshifters before, many with dark hearts and evil intentions. He hated them for they were the hardest kind to spy on, suddenly turning into a bird and flying off to where no man can go. He remembered the time he was locked in a dungeon, fed nothing but food scraps while drinking the water that came through a tiny hole in the ground. It lasted for almost six months, the memories too painful and traumatic to think about. In addition, the person that put him there was a shapeshifter.

It was one of the two times he was caught, the other time by a group of psychotic elves who chained him up and tortured him for days. It was painful but the elves weren't sane enough to chain him up while they prepared for another torture session. That was the last mistake they ever made, the six elves dead by the time the sun sank below the horizon, there blood on Sarains hands. The time he was locked up for months wasn't the doing of amateur elves that had severe mental problems. It was done by a shapeshifter, her hair black and her skin silky smooth. She was tall and beautiful but the spy knew it was not her true self.

Sarain didn't escape, but was helped by the guard that found her hideout on the outskirts of Ondoland. While the spy was being rescued, he saw the shapeshifter for what she truly was. A woman with a hooked nose and giant warts all over her face. Fortunately, the guardsmen knew that she was a shapeshifter, bringing a mage whom cast a spell that stopped her from shifting. The law had been chasing Shapeshifters for years, finding no way to catch them for they would change into an ant or morph into a massive dragon. However, they made a breakthrough, a powerful mage discovering a spell that could alter there genes. The spy looked at this woman for what she truly was, and the woman couldn't look back for she was ashamed for what she was.

"I hope you rot in hell, witch!"

These words stuck with him for they were comforting, the shifter showing utter defeat. He looked at Raven and didn't see this woman, but someone else. He had thoughts of doubt and fear. He had memories that he thought were long past, but they had come back when Raven spoke these words. The hurt on his face was evident, a mix of several emotions as he tried to figure out what was happening. Was she friend or was she foe, just like the witch who damaged his soul and stabbed his heart five years ago. He couldn't handle it any more, the trauma that was put on his heart when he had just started infiltration and spying too much.

"I would like to ride with you, Raven Silverflame."

He let the fear, doubt and heavy trauma disappear and smiled with joy. He ignored everything else, the distractions that ran rings around his head. His eyes focused on her beautiful lips, wanting to see the smile that would make him feel so much better. If she smiled, it would mean a new life for Sarain Kvohdi, the human who was truly half wolf, half man would become a man again. It would put him at peace, and the memory of the witch would disappear.

(OOC: I was going to put a dagger to your throat and ask if you were this woman, but I thought it best not too. You put me on yout friends list and I don't want you to make the effort of taking it off ^_^)

Raven met Sarain's eyes as she said those words, watching the expression on his face carefully. Revealing that she was a shapeshifter had always been hard for her, since she had made many a friend before that had abandoned her because of that fact. Since then, Raven had decided it was better to let people know early, or never at all. Being what she was had its uses, and had saved her many times, but it also had its disadvantages.

She lowered her eyes, seeing the hurt in Sarain's. The look in his eyes seemed to cut her worse than any enemy blade, wounded her more than any sort of magic spell. It was not easy for her to find friends. She realized now that without knowing it, she had found a friend in Sarain, and while her body may have been guarded by chainmail, her archery skills, the magic that she knew, her ability, and her healing spells, her heart was not so carefully shielded. She let out a soft sigh. Still, it was to be expected anyway. Her kind would never be truly accepted by the world.

She stared at the hands that lay folded on her lap. Her ability had saved her many times, gotten her out of so many sticky situations, and yet had driven people away from her, made her travel alone. It was both her gift and her curse, and she didn't know anymore if she was thankful for it or wished she had never been born with the ability she inherited from her father.

She looked up as Sarain's voice met her ears, saying that he would want to ride with her. A weight lifted from her heart somewhat, and her lips curved into a smile. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"That would be...all right," she said.

The smile disappeared from her face and she let out a sigh, turning to Sarain. Aegis, sensing her distress, moved closer to her, comforting her. Raven unconciously placed a hand on his head, stroking the fur there.

"I may not be able to change what I am," she said, looking Sarain in the eye, "But I choose not to hide who I am. The person you see in front of you is the real Raven Silverflame. This is my true form."

She was asking Sarain to trust her. Very seldom had she used her ability to hide who she really was, and now was not one of those times. If Sarain believed her, that was all well and good. If he chose not to, then she would find a way to make him believe her.

Her smile bought happiness into his heart once more. She was obviously ashamed of what she was, of the curse that was placed on her shoulders at birth. Sarain always saw the ability as something evil, given to a child by a sinful parent. He had never met a shapeshifter that had a pure heart and thought that every one of them was evil by nature. The intelligent spy found out that his beliefs were wrong as he sat on that old bench, looking at a woman he both loved and hated. She wasn't like the witch that had locked him in her cellar, the evil glint in her eye and the snide look on her face not there as he looked at Raven.

"That would be...all right."

She sighed as she turned towards Sarain, wanting to say something that would kill her if she kept her mouth shut. Aegis walked close to her, trying to comfort the beautiful shapeshifter. The distress on her face was obvious, embarrassed to be what she was. She wanted to explain everything to Sarain, for she didn't want to lose a friend.

"I may not be able to change what I am, but I choose not to hide who I am. The person you see in front of you is the real Raven Silverflame. This is my true form."

The spy didn't need her reassurance for he knew that this was the real beautiful lady sitting infront of him. He would have known otherwise for if this weren’t her true self, it would have been different. She looked at him with eyes of hope and confidence, her words coming straight from the heart. They kept eye contact for a few seconds before sarain decided to reply, wanting to make Raven know that it did not matter.

"See this," Sarain pulled his sleeve up to his shoulder, a large mark on his bicep. "It's a birthmark. I'm as comfortable with your ability as you are with this mark on my arm. I did not choose to have a brown spot the size of a gold coin here just as you didn't choose to be born a shapeshifter."

He had done enough, the smooth spy looking into her eyes as he waited for her reaction. He had a way with words that not many people had and it had gotten him out of many bad situations. It was also a chance to show off his muscles; although they weren't the largest biceps in Arda, they did the job. He was a very fit man, years of training helping him become what he is today. He looked at the tavern once more, wondering if Zekhen had realized the barkeep had taken the back door. The elven raider was probably hot on his heels, chasing the bastard down to take revenge for the water that was stolen.

"Do you think we should go looking for him?"

He looked at Raven once more, wondering if she hated sitting around doing nothing as much as he hated it. Although he enjoyed talking to his newfound friend, there were more important things to do now. They could talk on the way to the village, although talking on the back of a horse would be different. It was her call, so the spy waited for her answer.

Raven smiled at Sarain's words. It was true that she couldn't change what she was, and true that she didn't choose to be born a shapeshifter. Although she was comfortable with her ability for the most part, there were a few people in the world who didn't understand and who shunned her for something she couldn't control. When she had seen Sarain's first reaction, she had been afraid that he would be one of those people. Now, she thought differently.

Recently, she had taken to thinking more and more about why she had been given this ability. She knew from her mother that she had inherited it from her father, who had supposedly died the day she was born. She had never cared to learn much about her father. She hadn't even seen him, never really gotten to know what he looked like except that the two of them shared the same hair color and eye color. All she knew about him was his name and what she had gathered from her mother's stories. But now that name had turned up again.

THe more she thought about it, the more she was inclined to believe that the Faolan Silverflame mentioned by the merchant in Lomedor was the same Faolan Silverflame that fathered her. In the first place, her mother had never really known what had happened to her father, only believed that he died fighting against the creature that attacked them on the day of her birth. Being a shapeshifter herself, Raven knew that getting away from a battle wouldn't be that hard, so it was entirely possible that he survived. Second, her mother had mentioned that he was an adventurer of sorts, which would explain what he would be doing in the Anfauglir Desert. And if Aiyana Silverflame believed her husband was dead, it was entirely possible that Faolan believed the same about his wife and daughter.

Raven snapped out of her thoughts when Sarain spoke to her. At first she couldn't make sense of his question, and then she realized that he was talking about the raider. He had spent a good long time in the tavern and still hadn't come back out. Although Raven didn't particularly care what happened to the elf, she was tired of sitting around and not doing anything. Her recent thoughts only reminded her that she didn't have much time left, and needed to get there before her father, or whoever he was, left.

"He's been a while," said Raven, "Maybe we should start looking."