The naiad slumped back in the chair as the maid advanced on her yet again. The black-garbed woman held the most menacing set of cosmetics Vivianne had ever seen, and the amount the woman was lathering on made her doubt the beauty she supposedly had. Not to mention the fact she was wearing an elegant and thus utterly useless dress, shoes that made her appear three inches taller. They also made her wobble as though she'd never walked before. Vivi sighed, and the maid gripped her face with no lack of fury as she painted the naiad an entirely new face.

It was an hour later in which she'd finally get to see herself in the mirror. A squeak of surprise slipped from her lips, and she came up nose and nose with the creature that stared at her. A pale, noble creature with rosy cheeks and red lips stared back at her. Vivianne blinked, as did the hideous person. Gone was the wonderful coppery skin of her tropical naiad heritage, replaced by a sickly northerner.

"I pray that this heretical act to my face will get promptly removed." Vivianne stated, her voice pure venom. The maid skittered off, and left the not-so-pleasant noble girl to stand up and gaze at herself in the standing mirror. Why, it was as though they had deliberately hid every bit of her heritage! Vivianne sighed heavily, and strolled out of the room, suspending the copious amount of skirts she wore above the so-called elegant shoes she wore. The entire get up was so restrictive she barely made it down the stairs and into the parlor. The Admiral stood in full uniform, and had just finished replacing two brilliant golden scimitars to their holsters on the wall. Vivianne felt a momentary tug to claim both as her own, yet resisted it as the admiral sputtered.

"Miss, I did not request one of your profession on this night!"
"Admiral Marin? I'm your daughter." Vivianne explained. The admiral rubbed his stubbly white beard, and rubbed off a bit of Vivianne's make up off. He recoiled, embraced her, and then shook his head.

"Sorry, dear. I hope you won't tell anyone of that outburst. I'll assume that your garb is so you can sit at my table tonight? It is salmon night." The admiral explained. Vivianne nodded slowly, and strolled into the other room as she cleansed the makeup from her face with a dainty white glove. The naiad had barely sat down as she tore the used glove off and threw it out the open window. A maid stared at her, slack-jawed, and then she darted back out. They had all forgotten what it was like to have the feisty young naiad in the house. The admiral stomped in, and took a seat at the opposite end of the table. A couple more men shuffled in, and their ladies. Some Vivianne knew, others she didn't, but soon the merriment had started as the first course was served.

Sweet talking abounded from the man on her left, even as she tried to look as undignified as possible to avoid his attentions. The so-called lady he brought with him obviously did not fit her dress, it was slightly too loose on her everywhere except the hips. Vivianne returned his pleasantries with biting remarks about the heritage of the woman he brought with him, attempting to dissuade any conversation about herself. The high-necked dress revealed little skin beyond her face, of which she was rather pleased.

"But mi'lady, I assume you'd love to dine with me tomorrow night?"
"I sincerely doubt your capacity in withstanding my advances, sir." Vivianne spat. The noble glared at her, even as she held out her arm, and placed her elbow firmly on the table. They were between courses(Vivianne was saving room for salmon) and she had decided it was time she proved she wasn't a pampered creature of submissive affection. The noble lad stared at her arm, and Vivianne allowed the old sardonic smirk to slip onto her face.

"Grab my hand, and attempt to push the back of my hand onto the table. It is rather simple, really. If you succeed, I'll visit you tomorrow." Vivianne stated. The noble lad slipped off his glove, a hopeful smile on his face and a dreamy glint to his eyes. As their hands gripped, the Admiral chuckled as the rest watched this commoner's game. It seemed as though the lad was winning, and he smiled even as Vivianne feigned weakness. A shout pierced the air as the tables were turned, and the table itself shuddered. His hand lay pinned, and Vivianne gave a toothy grin, sharper-than-normal teeth greeting him.

"I do believe that you have lost, sir. Now, let us partake in this salmon." Vivianne explained. She smiled sweetly, then dove straight into fishy goodness. The naiad savored every little piece as she voraciously tore it apart. The seemingly dainty naiad was so hungry, in fact, that a maid had to get a second portion instead of watching them all eat.

A blood-curdling and ear-destroying scream rent the air, and Vivianne leapt from her seat. The nobles reacted slowly, most drawing a blade of some sort. Vivianne snatched her katana out of the cane-holder as she darted out of the room. As her eyes lit upon the massive lupine, a skirt and shoe met. The naiad tripped and fell flat on her face, rubbing more of the remaining makeup onto the fine imported carpet. She struggled to her feet even as she kicked off her shoes and unsheathed her katana.

"Come along, I'd like to see you claim that prize properly, sir!" Vivianne shouted. She raced towards him, and he bolted out the door with the Admiral's scimitars in hand. The naiad sighed, and unbuttoned the restrictive outer layer of the dress with a single hand as she jammed her feet into a pair of slippers. The outer-most layer of her dress fell off, revealing the under-dress layer top she wore beneath(which was wonderfully unrestrictive) and sliced slits into the side of her remaining skirts, shredding those further even as she slid the final layer from herself as she dashed out the door after the offending lupine.

"Your daughter is rather interesting, Admiral."
"Interesting? I prefer unique. She's the finest girl a man could ask for." Admiral Marin stated, standing in the doorway. He chuckled, and then walked back into the dining room.

It had been a long time since his rough, padded paws had walked along the cobbled streets of the city of Lómëdor. They hadn't touched anything but earth and soft grass in more months than he could remember, and the cool, hard feeling seemed alien beneath his feet. He had padded his way through the city early in the day, re-acquainting himself with its layout and taking close note of the exits. He was here to stock up on supplies, his period of aimless wandering the woods having drawn to a close, and he didn't intend to do it lawfully. He had never been one to pay for his possessions and prided himself in his ability to charm and swindle precious items from the hands of others. Thus, exit locations were a must on the list of things to memorize.

The midday sun had felt extra bright during his casing of the city without the over abundance of trees to dampen it. Though he had become more accustomed to this on the travel through Salquedor, there were far more flat, white surfaces in the city off of which the sun could reflect and it made him feel as though everyone could so easily see what he was planning. It glinted off of everything, his squinting making him appear far more ferocious than he already did for being lupine. It even glinted off of... Hmm, Thindraug thought to himself, his train of thought stopping as he stared closely at something. His eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him after all. Just a few feet in front of him walked a well-kept man in a uniform sporting two beautifully glittering objects at his waist.

Light danced on their glittering surfaces, bedazzling him as if he had been taken under by a spell of enchantment. He followed behind the man slowly, eyes never parting from the sparkling treasure in front of him. Careful to appear as though he was browsing the goods the market vendors offered, but not careful enough to take his eyes off of the beautiful pair of scimitars for even a second, he schemed. They were objects to be coveted, and he knew that they must become his.

The man was headed toward the Marina, seemingly into the nobility district. A frown twitched at the corners of his lupine mouth as he stood behind a covered wagon; nobles always had extra help around and excessive hired help meant an increased chance of being seen. It was also highly likely that some of the help would involve guards. But to his delight, there seemed to be no guards standing around the home into which the man finally disappeared. A wolfish grin spread across his face as he imagined holding a golden scimitar in each hand. "See you at nightfall, my lovelies."

---

Nightfall had come as he observed the house from a reasonably inconspicuous distance. It seemed that tonight there was to be a dinner party, several guests had arrived wearing elegant garments while the servants busied themselves in the kitchen, bustling back and forth in preparation. Figures moved to and fro behind the window panes like busy ants, but as the dinner time came the hallways cleared. The lights in the house shone out into the night, illuminating everything inside for his eyes to take in. Glee filled him as his vision brimmed with the sight of the two beautiful weapons as they hung on the parlor wall. What luck, they haven't drawn the curtains! It was as if the twin scimitars were calling his name, making themselves available for him to just walk in and take, and he was mesmerized.

Glancing to the left then to the right, he quickly assessed his surroundings. There wasn't a soul to be seen, luck was on his side. Every passing second found him with more good fortune than he could have hoped for, and the scintillating beauties upon that parlor wall filled him with an unusually strong, brash boldness. I could walk right in and take them as they dine, it would be so easy... His thoughts filled him with devious greed until at last he disregarded any last inkling of caution. He was going to walk through the front door, not more than one room away from the dinner guests, claim his prizes, and stroll back out to disappear into the night. It was flawless... or so he thought.

He crept toward the front door with expert stealth, lock picks in hand. Crouching down on one knee, he tested the doorknob then, finding it locked, quickly inserted the thin metal object into the keyhole and began a complicated stream of testing its internal mechanisms. At last the door knob made a faint clicking noise, and he knew that he had been successful. Re-testing the knob, his grin widened with glee. If there was a dead bolt, it too had been disregarded this evening. Fate was on his side!

The door crept open slowly, just a hair, and he placed his nose against the small crack to sniff. The scent of salmon filled his nostrils, but he ignored the fish scent. Sniffing again, more information revealed itself to his olfactory senses. No one stood nearby, so he pressed the door open further. No footsteps met his ears, and he was fastly confident he remained undetected. Stepping inside quickly, he wasted no time. Not bothering to close the door behind him, he rushed to the wall where his magnificent treasures hung in their holsters.

He paused to admire them before reaching forward to delicately lift them from their chest-high placing. One in each hand, he turned them over to marvel at their exquisite craftsmanship, delaying too long his departure. His keen senses were distracted by his inexplicable absorption in the weapons, until his ears filled with a woman's head-splitting shriek. Startled, he looked up like a deer caught in a sunlight spell as one of the servants fainted. Then came a crashing noise as a young, peculiar-looking lady rounded the corner and met the floor face first. Noting the katana in her hand and the speed at which she was already flying back to her feet, his senses returned to him and he sprinted for the open doorway.

Barely having set a foot paw outside, straps were already spouting from his enchanted leather armor at his midsection, to carry his treasures for him so that his hands were free. As his nimble hands worked to fasten the first scimitar into a leather strap, he glanced down. It was a mistake to take his eyes off of the path in front of him, but the allure of these gilded weapons was so distracting. Before he knew it, the lupine had plowed into someone and they went tumbling down together in a ball of limbs and fur.

Thindraug scrambled to get up, glancing back at his persecutor who was now missing much of her clothing. He climbed off of the man he had just crushed, clutching at his side to see if his scimitar was still tied down. The one, secure, golden treasure remained in tact, but his collision victim seemed to be laying on top of the second and preventing him from grabbing it. He was torn, glancing at the approaching madwoman and back down at the scimitar. "Auugh! Keep it!" he shouted at the man before taking off again, having decided that one glittering beauty would be better than no treasure and a katana to the heart.

"Clearly the sidearm casting technique isn't working for you, mate."

"Clearly I don't know what I'm doing."

"Clearly."

Aloric gripped the fishing rod in his hands and reeled the line back in. "And you said this industry is highly profitable?"

"The chums love fish, and we love money," the swarthy man replied. "It's a match made in Aman."

"I just don't see what the big deal is."

"Look," the sailor snapped, "you asked for a spot on my boat, I gave you a spot on my boat. You wanna learn? Pay attention. And stop with the sidearm, it makes you look incompetent."

"I don't even know what sidearm is."

"It's that ridiculous thing you're doing with the rod. Look here, mate." The tanned man seized the rod, brought it straight up, then whipped it forward with a flick of his wrist. The line soared through the air and landed far out in water, the blup sound of the bait sinking being just barely audible. "That's how a real man does it."

"A real man would just suck it up and buy the fish at the market."

"You have a lot to learn about economics, kid."

Aloric was in a bit of a pickle. He had used up most of his supplies the last few weeks, and he had come back to Lómëdor - that dreaded, bustling city of danger and confusion - in order to restock. The problem being, of course, that he was flat broke. And unless he was interested in the life of a criminal, he needed to raise the necessary funds and get back to a healthy income. Strangely, unemployment didn't pay all that well.

Leeland Porter, the captain of The Duchess, however, had been kind enough to allow the ranger a spot on his boat for the next few days in order to learn the ways of a fisherman. In exchange, Aloric would swab decks, serve meals, and perform other tasks of a wenchy nature. Captain Porter had failed to mention, though, the problem of sea sickness.

Aloric gripped his stomach as the boat rocked against another wave. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he said with a drawl.

"Whatchya mean?" the captain asked inquisitively.

"I mean I might regurgitate my lunch."

"We're not even a mile off the shore!"

But Aloric could not be dissuaded. Surely he was coming down with a sickness of some sort. Another wave crashed against The Duchess, and it was the final straw.

His hand rushed to his mouth, then he waddled as quickly as possible to the railing of the vessel.

"...What're you doing, mate?"

But his lunch was already in the water.

Porter shunned his eyes from the sight. "That's just gross, friend."

Aloric would have replied to the friendly captain, but he was currently occupied with being frozen in place as his most recent meal floated on the open water. Emetophobia was working its magic again, it seemed. Porter made his way towards Aloric calmly, curious about the ranger's state of mind. "You alright there? Looks like you're a few cards short of a full deck." Aloric shot him a strange look, still not able to form coherent words. "No, really, you look dumber than a sack of wet oatmeal."

"You can stop now."

"Your bucket doesn't make it to the top of the well?"

"No really, that's enough."

---

He couldn't have been more thankful to be back on dry land. He tucked his bag of belongings under his arms and breathed heavily. He doubted he'd be seeing Leeland Porter or The Duchess anytime soon. "That's not a fishing boat, it's a deathtrap," he mumbled. In his mind he checked "fisherman" off his list of possible professions. He'd have to find something else tomorrow, or risk starving to death. Especially if he kept vomiting up his meals.

The sun was just setting, and he needed to find a place to stay the night. Preferably not that dreadful Wilwarin Inn, if it could be avoided. It seemed everybody always went there. And Aloric wasn't a fan of crowds.

He was contemplating this dilemma as he walked away from the dock, headed for Lómëdor Square, when suddenly, he was on the floor. "Oaf!" Aloric exclaimed, only later feeling embarrassed that the grunt sounded more feminine than intended. Fur graced his skin as paws pressed up against his chest. The wind was thoroughly knocked from him. The bizarre furred... thing... rose to its feet at once, glancing around hastily before shouting, "Auugh! Keep it!" The freak was gone as quickly as it had come.

Aloric finally rose to his feet, putting a hand on the small of his back and wincing, feeling suddenly like an elderly man. "Keep what?" he wondered. That's when something shiny on the ground caught his attention. A scimitar, golden in hue, caused a sparkle to momentarily creep into his eye. "Ooooh," he said stupidly. "Shiny."

A toothy grin spread across his face as he stooped to the ground to pick up the weapon. He held it in his hands, blade pointed toward the sky, marveling in the beauty of the scimitar.

Then he saw an indecently dressed young woman come barreling towards him. Puzzled, he looked back in the direction of the furred humanoid. Was he running from this girl? "She doesn't look all that dangerous," Aloric mused. It wasn't until she got closer that he noticed the katana in her hands. And she was still speeding towards him. He gulped, affording one last glance to the weapon in his hands. "On second thought, running sounds like a good idea."

Vivianne was not amused. The scimitars had done their duty and come under dual ownership. Vivi blinked, and ceased letting her heart decide who she'd hunt, but her sense as a vigilante. Her eyes latched onto both, examining each with a trained eye. The lupine had a long, graceful stride. He'd be a difficult catch in any circumstance, and Vivianne could tell he might put up a good fight. The other man, however, had the appearance of one who hid behind trees. He showed signs of disrepair, and looked quite a bit as though the blade had entranced him to the point he wouldn't put up too much of a fight.

The naiad passed her blade from her right to left hand, and her eyes narrowed. Reclaim one blade, then place a bounty on the lupine for the blade's safe return. Her run turned into a full-out sprint, and she curled her four fingers into a ball and used her thumb to lock them into position. She doubted the Lomedor Guard would enjoy it if she spilled the blood of an innocent man. The anfauglir desert looking girl allowed a sharp breath, and blinked.

Vivianne lashed out with her fist, the gloved hand attempting a right hook across his jaw. Then she recoiled of her own volition, and rethought her entire plan of attack. Why had she struck at an innocent man? Was she really getting that violent? Her eyes trailed back to the glittering blade in his hands.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry, sir! I just wish my family's scimitar's safe return! It was a sp--I'd rather like it for myself, though. If you'd like to give it." Vivianne stated. She'd started out in panicked forgiveness, yet had shifted to freakish obsession in response to the blade. She wanted it. The shiny. The brilliant blade. The object that could win her wildest dreams. Her blade returned to her right hand. A crooked smile fell upon her face. The katana fell into both hands, and she struck yet again.

The blade swept through the air, trailing a long arc that would strike across his upper torso if it achieved its goals. Vivianne paused, and recoiled yet again. Why had she at an innocent man? Was she really getting that violent? Her eyes trailed back to the glittering blade in his hands.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry, sir! I just wish my family's scimitar's safe return! I--That's a very nice blade, and I'm thinking you should hand it over to me." Vivianne stated. Her voice yet again shifted, and it was quite obvious the vigilante had a weakness to the charm of the objects. She reached out for it with her left hand, yet kept the blade ready to strike him down at any moment.

The pretty scimitars would be hers. They would be. She swore an oath on the subject of her claiming them to the moonlight which they reflected.

(Baah linking posts. Hate em'.)