The Everbringing: Part 1 - The Rain.

((Before I start this roleplay. I would like to say that I've taken the story I've been writing and transformed it into terms that we can use to get started. I will also be playing a female character, just for fun ofcourse.))

Introduction:
Castles and churches that stood high above the people, surrounded the small miserable bodies with their walls. As far as they could see they were imprisoned by these titans of stone and the men that sit atop of these thrones. They worked hard to prepare for winter, they prayed harder to survive the winter. But there were those that did not have to work or pray this hard. There were those that sat on their thrones.

But we're not like our ancestors. We don't live in-between castle walls anymore. We are living in cities. We can grow prosperous by learning the trades of our guilds. Built by heresy, but re-taken by our church, we have found our new homes. We built new walls of our own, to protect us from outside threats and they have served us perfectly for that purpose. But what we did not know was why our same ancestors had accepted their entrapment for so long: we have locked ourselves in a cage with demons.

Following those not heeding an unwritten warning, lead us here. Disguised in the mantles of our own women, demons haunt us. We have started to fear our wives and daughters. We turn to our church once again to protect us. But can they? Will they?


Setting:
This is intended to be a medieval fantasy RP. And by medieval, I mean medieval. Not the politically correct versions you see everywhere, but a rougher version stuck to its roots. The Everbringing will be very closely related to the early High Middle Ages. As such, there has already been a lot of urbanisation going on. Nobles and even the church have been falling back in political power. Whereas the former have grown poorer, the latter has managed to survive by integrating in the newer society and still holds a lot of influence. This RP will be set in one of the cities with all town privileges and new-found guilds that provide more opportunity for the middle class who can, for a fee, aspire to become artisans, artists, scholars and merchants of many kinds. Outside the guilds, there is the choice of joining the town's guard, earn your bread as a messenger or even join the town's governing or follow a more religious path. The latter two require proficient schooling, provided by the guilds and church respectively. The higher born are offered the same chances as the middle class, although they are often more inclined to strive for positions in the church and ruling class and have the financial ability to bribe their way in. Most of the blue-blooded, however, stick to their castles out of sheer pride. The paupers often work as lowly employees, slaves or provide their income as beggars or thieves. They are looked down upon by all social classes and are not sure whether they prefer the imprisonment of the city's walls and their status, or that or the castles and abusive noblemen.

Inhabitants of the city:
The city deals with social layers. To which you belong is no longer solely dominated by birth, but also by how high you can rise within society. Citizenship can be acquired by paying a fee and having a clean criminal record, or by being born within the city itself. Citizenship gives you permission to stay and grants you the rights of a civilian, such as protection by militia and law and the right to work and stay within the city. It is divided in four classes:

* Upper class: Noblemen. Bishops and up.
* Middle class: Guild members, scholars, other holy men.
* Lower class: Journeymen, soldiers.
* Bottom class: Everyone else.


The names and position of the classes hold little meaning, holy men asides, you have the same rights. It will solely affect your social status. The status of nobleman for example, is no more than a fancy title within the city's walls. Here, it is the middle class that holds the greatest power and influence.

But asides social layers, there are also three different intelligent races that inhabit the city itself. Namely humans, lamias and gargoyles. Although only humans and lamias can achieve citizenship. Allow me to get a little more in-depth:

Human:

The dominant race. Basically everything is run by the mankind. Citizenship is easier to achieve by humankind than by anyone else. Humans are the self-proclaimed rulers of the world. According to their selves, they're better and more worthy of this world than all animal- and plant-life combined. Nobody else has the strength, God forbid the intelligence, to oppose them. This position is socially accepted. Humans are not conscious of their arrogance, however.

The human has distinct advantages over the other playable races. Unlike the lamia, they have sufficient strength to do heavy lifting and wield more powerful weaponry than a light blade efficiently. Unlike the gargoyle, they have free will and their wounds heal without powerful hocus-pocus. But not just that, guaranteed citizenship permits education, training and whatnot in fields that is prohibited for many others.

But in the same manner, there is one very nasty disadvantage. The Everbringing disguise like the most beautiful of human women. Humankind has a witch hunt going on. They kill and harm many innocent members of their own kin out of fear, prohibit their daughters from going outside, studying and God forbid practicing a profession, just in case one of the Everbringing has murdered her and stole her appearance. That and feminism is unheard of. All hail humankind.

Pros:

* Potency to all professions.
* The upper and middle class are often educated.
* Ruling race that suffers no racial discrimination.

Cons:

* May be branded as one of the Everbringing.
* No other distinct racial disadvantages.

Lamia:

A snakelike, coldblooded, exclusively female-race with a very specific tongue. Her legs are wrapped a snake's tail (which can open to reveal and use her legs) and her hair a snake's hood. Although a lamia is considered a cursed woman in legend, it is much less true in the world. Regardless, because of prejudice a lamia can hardly find a home in smaller human residential areas where the people are stuck in their old ways. Hence it is not uncommon for a lamia to live in the wild. Although tribal communities have risen recently, most lamias take their residence in bigger human cities. Most are performers because of their unique physical qualities and voices, scholars in wizardry because of their ease of pronouncing ancient languages or simply whores and thieves, because they are women and therefore prohibited to practice most professions. Hence the majority houses within the bottom class.

A lamia has no true spine and therefore can move very freely, however the lack of bones means a lack of stability in the body, making a lamia often very weak physically. A lamia may also possess up to three vocal chords, although most have two. These allow a lamia to perform music and magic with greater ease than any human. Three vocal chords make a very powerful lamia, but it will also make her voice louder and will require her to breathe more often. Most lamias with three vocal chords will die during childhood.

Pros:

* Great affinity and potential for magic.
* May pronounce many sounds effortlessly.
* Capable of both slithering and walking.
* Very flexible.
* Venomous saliva.
* High resistance to bludgeoning force.

Cons:

* Physically weak.
* Slow in cold weather.
* Prone to bacterial disease.
* Low resistance to cutting.
* May suffer strong forms of discrimination.
* Often uneducated.


The Everbringing

Lastly, we have to Everbringing. These are not playable. The Everbringing are considered the modern day equivalent or offspring to the ancient demons. Although the oldest book describes the demons as immortal and eternally sinful and chaotic, the Everbringing are different, albeit slightly. Although it is true that the Everbringing have no determined birth and death, they can be slain and possess order in their mind. They are not necessarily sinful, their acts simply lie in their nature. While we may consider it horrid to rip open a womb and eat the baby, this is a simple matter of survival for a Sekiss.

Their appearance is often that of a beautiful human woman. However depending on her specific classification, the Everbringing have a different appearance. These appearances remind us of the ancient demons much more than anything else in this world. However these forms are much less alluring. They have no fat, at all and one can see the bone structure by just looking at the skin. Eyes nearly fall out of their sockets and their teeth are fangs, their nails are sharp and so long and thin that you could mistake them for claws.

The Everbringing, species:

Baval: A bloodthirsty, warrior Everbringing. The kind that puts in little to no effort in hiding her true nature. The Baval are extremely powerful warriors and always fighting each other. But they cannot slay each other. And God forbid another race would try. Baval their fighting capabilities are beyond human measure. Even in the unlikely event one would defeat a Baval, he or she would take her place in the ever-lasting battle, guaranteeing his or her own death because the Baval will never stop coming.

A Baval may however, fall in love with a human warrior. A hero of sorts, most likely. Although one should not expect a Baval to be a good mother, she will without failure bring a great warrior to bless this Earth. The raising will be completely up to the father as the Baval will spend little time to no time with her mate or child afterwards.

Sekiss: One of the most feared Everbringing. A Sekiss feeds on two things, one being unborn babies and the second being men's hearts. She will visit pregnant women at night and tear open their wombs. Hence doors at night are always locked in houses of young families. The Sekiss may also pretend to be a nurse of kinds. However it is more common for a Sekiss to pretend to be a whore. She seduces her victims but will end the intersection in a most cruel way. She will rip her mate's heart right out of his chest. This is a very dangerous process however, as a pregnant Sekiss will die.

Disine: A more common Everbringing. Although not exactly lethal, she will often lure people into their own graves. Her voice enchants all ears, man or woman, child or adult. One caught by her melody will lose all consciousness and sleep-walk. Occasionally falling off steep cliffs or into the darkest of woods. The Disine is however the number one fear of seafaring travelers, where she appears and will numb the heads of the entire crew. A Disine's other form either exchanges legs for a fishy tail, arms for two wings or both. Eagles, however, feast upon Disine's and thus most ships sail as close to their nests as possible.

Srya: An Everbringing with no ill intentions, but regardless seen as a symbol of utter disaster. A Srya will appear before people to predict their misfortune. Although a Srya herself is mute, her presence speaks more than a thousand words. It is said that the Srya actually bring the misfortune, but this has never been proven. Regardless they are still warded off by Gargoyles and will never be seen in a church.

The Srya their selves have ghastly bodies. Their faces are often pale and their other form is transparent. Sometimes they may be seen in hollow trees at night. One who finds a Srya will always be able to find his way home. However, if you drink of the honey or see one in an undesirable state, you will be cursed by the greatest of misfortune, which will haunt you till the death.

Laws

Based on the privileges and religious beliefs, there are the laws. The laws are rather basic, although seemingly much more complicated on paper, it comes down to the following:

* Theft, murder and rape are prohibited. Punishment is fairly heavy, often an eye for an eye-case. Theft gets you a fine depending on the worth of the stolen property. Or imprisonment if you cannot cough it up. Murder means execution and rape will be prosecuted with imprisonment also.
* Violence and vandalism can be brought to court. In which case, punishments will be imprisonment. However, guards may be merciful on you and whip out a single physical punishment instead. It is even known that certain guards will not even bother with public violence and vandalism on property of less respected citizens.
* Swindle and bribe are prohibited. Although often taken care of by the guilds, it will be treated as theft by law. A master will be stripped of his status and any none-master will be stripped of ever achieving that rank. Bribe will often be held silent, however.
* Contract-law. If you have been given qualifying documents, be it as a guild member, priest or even as a member of the town's guard, you will be expected to follow it. Breaking the contract will be punished by fines or imprisonment depending on severity of the consequences.
* The ground is property of the city. It can be bought by guild-members and by priests. If you do not own your own land, you can be forced out of your house and this effort will be supported by the town's guard. Resistance is a serious offence. Families often try to build a relationship with a guild-member or push their sons to achieve this status to secure their homes.
* Heresy is prohibited. If you are a none-believer, you will be surrendered to the mercy of the church. The church's mercy depends on your willingness to change your beliefs. The church can either take you in or turn you back to the government, in which case you will be imprisoned or executed depending on the mood of the judge and the need for an example or scapegoat. If you preach anything different from the mainstream, you will most likely become this scapegoat, however.

Religious Beliefs:
Theology and ideology in a nutshell

The dominant belief is one that worships a single God. The religion does not have a specific name, but is referred to as the church, implying there is only one religion. The God is also only referred to as God, implying there is only one God. The principle described in the Holy book is not that of punishment, but of reward. A soul that does not live by guidelines of the book will not receive its God's blessing and will never ascend to Heaven, but reborn in an Earth-bound body. You’d be stuck in an endless circle of life and life over again. But this will not only affect him, but also his surroundings.

An honest man, or woman for that matter, holds no affection for the material joys of life. Wealth, possession, physical relationships, it all holds no value in this church. Opposing the law is also considered sinning and will drive you away further from God's favour. It cannot be regained by confession, although it helps, but a bad deed needs to be outweighed by a good deed. Such can be achieved as extending a helping hand to a fellow-believer, doing service for the church, converting a none-believer, support the community or disposing of a demon. A bad deed will always weigh more than a good deed however.

The book holds guidelines to ascend and raises wariness of sinful deeds. All is told in the form of stories and tales and often up to interpretation. Often the just parts are played by humans and the evil parts by lesser humans and demons. The set-up tends to be similar, a demon approaches one or multiple humans and hopes to tempt them. Sometimes the demon succeeds, other times not and sometimes the stories are open-ended. Many of the tales have been taken into songs and do service as hymns for ceremonial services. These have been passed down by several different prodigies. Each has a personal story or epic. Until one of them decided to gather them all in a book. He is therefore considered the most important of prodigies.

The creation theory is that God found a world. God speaks in an ancient language that we no longer fully understand, but every word has a divine meaning and effect. Whenever He speaks, or sings, He creates or changes something. It is said that the current world and life was created by God singing an epic song and forming an orchestra of angels. After His work was done, He became the sky to his world, leaving the Angels to watch over and live among His most beautiful creation: humankind.

Minor magic:

In this world, wizardry is an art. The language spoken is that in which the Holy book is written. However, its pronunciation is largely forgotten. Its grammatical structure is very similar to English but its words are different. Minor magic is movement and movement alone. And only one movement can be created per voice (lamias can create two or three movements depending on their number of vocal chords). This art is performed by minimalistic commands. Roughly translating into phrases such as 'Throw this rock away from me' and 'Pull this person towards me'.


Casting requires three components:

1. Vocals
2. Energy
3. Material to move

Allow me to elaborate them one by one: First, vocals; there are four components to the vocals.

* Words. Determine the object and whether it is pushed towards you or away from you.
* Rhythm. You need to have a consistent rhythm to maintain the consistent movement of the spell. If it is not present the spell will fall. This is the reason that most magic-users use gestures during their spells, because with movement it is easier to maintain a more precise rhythm.
* Volume. Determines the strength of the spell. The louder your voice, the stronger the spell.
* Tone. This determines the direction of the spell. A higher pitch moves your spell to the left, a lower pitch moves your spell to the right. If you cannot reach a certain pitch, it affects your aim. Women are often stronger on their left aim, whereas men are on their right.

Volume and tone are contradicting forces. The stronger your spell, the harder to aim it.


-------CHARACTER SHEET!!!---------

General information

Name:
Age:
Gender
Race Human/Lamia/Gargoyle

Physical Characteristics:

Height:
Weight:
Eye Color:
Hair/Hood:

* Colour:
* Length:
* Style:
* Worn:

Skin color: Pale/tanned/etc.
Shape of Face: Round/oval/square/etc.
Distinguishing features:
How does he/she dress?

Health: How fit is your character?
Hobbies:
Favorite Sayings:
Speech patterns:
Disabilities:

Talents/Skills:

*

Birth order:
Parents:
Siblings:
Spouse: None
Children:
Significant Others:
Relationship skills: How good does your character do in building and maintaining relationships
History: Please fill in at least a paragraph. You don't need an epic tale behind your character but you should be able to tell us something.

-- Dan's Character! --
Name: Lilia Whiterose
Apparent Age: 26
Gender: Female
Race: Lamia

Physical Characteristics:

Height: 5'6"
Weight: 96kg (Lamia form) 85kg (Human Form)
Eye Color: Green
Hair/Hood:

* Colour: Blonde/Cream
* Length: Long, wavy hair. Somewhat dirty.

Skin color: Reasonably pale and fair skinned, slightly scaled.
Shape of Face: Exotic

Distinguishing features:

* She has rather large scars running down her right arm and what seems to be the imprint of a hand on her wrist
* Her eyes glow a little when its dark.

How does he/she dress?: Generally keeps clothing minimal to not impede on her ridiculous flexibility, basic modesty of a few wraps of green linen or cotton. Though when travelling through cities and such, she'll don large loose tie-up shirts and sarong style skirts/dresses so she can still switch between slithering and such.

Health: Quite average, she has had a reasonably active and secure lifestyle.
Hobbies: Singing mostly, and travelling. Also practicing magic.
Favorite Sayings: Fangs are filled with poison; alas man is saturated with it.
Speech patterns: She has a bit of a flowery, somewhat british accent, her voice is mostly soft like honey, especially when she sings. She tends to stutter when she's shy.
Disabilities: N/A

Occupation: Seamstress/Servant/Slave
Talents/Skills:

* Can sing remarkably well.
* Quite creative.
* Fairly book-smart from her upbringing.
* Can use a bow effectively.
* Tracking skills within the nearby forest are unmatched, as for anywhere else, they somewhat lack skill.
* Knows a little magic, due to the old man who looked after her was partly wizard.
* Can fluently speak the Ancient Language if read from the Holy Book.
* Can fletch bows and arrows.
* Has a wide variety of skills (Listed in History)

Birth order: Only child
Parents: Selindria Whiterose, Liam Terr
Siblings: None
Spouse: None
Children: None
Significant Others: Havel XIII
Relationship skills: Not very good at relationships, has had zero practice from a sheltered life, though perhaps if she was already in one she might be able to maintain it well enough. She can be extremely shy.

History:
Lilia wasn't old enough to remember her parents that well, little more than vague ideas and a few ideals, before she found herself in the care of a blind, very old man.
So she was more or less brought up by this strange old man out in the middle of nowhere in a run-down stone tower, stout and spacious for a hermit's tower but a tower no less. And she basically played the part of caretaker, servant and assistant to the old man, at first not realising the strange things he did as magic.

He had Lilia running around doing all kinds of errands, though he wasn't a slacker himself, it just seemed there was far too much for one blind old man to handle nowadays. He didn't seem to hold all the discrimination of the outside world, though teaching Lilia so much wasn't entirely out of the kindness of his heart, he was quite a grouchy old man who wasn't all that friendly.

No, he seemed to teach Lilia more to be a better servant or something, maybe a debt? Lilia never really found out, because after a long time, the old wizard sent her on a very obscure errand: go away and never come back. Lilia gathered her belongings and set off for a long journey towards the city North of her current position, becoming a bard to earn herself money to buy food and drink along the way (This is where her singing was developed).

Soon enough, she found herself at the tavern outside of her destined city, sharing her adventurous stories with the people around her by singing her delightful songs. Before long, she was living inside the city walls as what she was raised to be: a slave. The job included cleaning her master's living quarters, cooking, shopping for supplies, a little repair work, flax collecting from the nearby fields, stitching ripped clothes and other 'unmentionable' things. As Lamia were not appreciated much within the city walls, she was discriminated against, often the target of insults and attacks.

She was then taken in and was taught how to use the forest to her advantage when demons or bandits decided to tread through the lands. Her training included: how to use a bow, how to track, hunting and how to make traps. Now she resides with the other Lamia within the forest, only going back into the city to sing her delightful songs at the tavern and for various other matters too.

Name: Raemus
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Physical Characteristics:

Height: 5"8
Weight: 14 stone
Eye Color: Blue
Hair:

* Colour: Black
* Length: Stops just at the ear lobe
* Style: Loose and natural, flails in the wind often

Skin color: Quite pale
Shape of Face: More of a top heavy oval
Distinguishing features: A small mole on his upper back, that for the majority of the time, is hidden from view
How does he/she dress? While he has fancy keep sakes of his old life, how he dresses will depend on his situation, though it will almost alway be of a dark colour. He is quite utalitarion in his dress.

Health: About average, he can sprint when needed, but dont expect him to pull marathons out of his arse
Hobbies: While he fancies himself a dab hand at swordplay, he has had little actual practice with one, so while he isn't training, doing his job, or socialising, he can often be found reading alone in his room, or drinking
Favorite Sayings:
In a mad world, only the mad are sane.
Failing to plan is planning to fail.
Speech patterns: While he doesnt have any "accent" per ce, his voice sounds quite refined, with a slight tinge of Britishness to his vocabulary
Disabilities:N/A

Occupation: He likes to think of himself as a professional mercenary/bodyguard

Talents/Skills:

*His sword skills are self taught, so he only has a basic understanding of other weapons, as he was not tutored

*His memory is, for the most part, unmatched, as is his (self proclaimed) wit and charm

*For reasons listed in his history, he has a decent knowledge of the workings of magic, though he himself does not practice the art

*Also, for reasons in his history, knows the layout of at least one of the ruling houses

Birth order: Only child
Parents: Rebit Mitpes (Deceased), Alexia Glainium
Siblings: None
Spouse: None
Children: None
Significant Others: None
Relationship skills: How good does your character do in building and maintaining relationships? He wouldn't know, he is very inexperienced in that area, as he has never had an "intimate" relationship with any woman, and he likes to keep to himself

History:

The Great Houses: Theldoran and Dranouran. Two families locked in an eternal battle for power, wealth and status. One, dedicated to the beterment of the City as a whole, the other, a power hungry warmachine. Which is which is anyoens guess, as both have conflicting goals and they will both use any means necassary to achieve them.
Into this powerstruggle, was Raemus born. A son of Dranouran, a house almost totally skilled with, and dominated by, magic users. So much so, that, after fufilling his education, when he was found, despite the best tutoring in the city, to not have the gift of magic, Raemus was suddenly never mentioned at dinner tables, always hushed behind closed doors and was slowly squeezed out of family procceedings all together, to the point where the ruling members decided there was no point keeping him, and was able to dispose of the teen with a quick implication her, and small bribe there.
Thrust out onto the streets, with a fair education, because of how he was treated, despite living in the City his entire life, he was an unknown, an outsider. He bought himself a small room from the bad end of the class scale, where no great human should have to suffer, and tried many things at first, but, by the time he was 19, he had discovered his prowess with a blade. Though he couldn't afford a trainer, he saved his earnings from his odd jobs, until he could afford his own sword, and not just one that he used while patroling the streets as a city guard.
It is two years later. Five since he was thrust out onto the streets. Raemus is 21 now. He has left the ciy guard, and is now advertising himself as a sword for hire, a mercenary, a bodyguard. Will his stubboness and arrogance- oh so natural to his kind- prevail? Or will he fall by the wayside, a simple carcass, good for only feeding the dogs? Only time will tell.

Welcome to the forum! Very nice character, definately accepted!
-----

Basics

Name: Sairina Pale’en

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Race: Human

-x-

Physical Characteristics

Height: 5’ 5’’

Weight: 9 stone

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair/Hood:

*Colour: Black
*Length: Reaches down to her lower back
*Style: Always caught up in an elaborate style but given the choice she would wear it loose
*Worn: N/A

Skin Colour: European skin tone but looks slightly weathered

Shape of Face: Not drawn but not round more equally distributed

-x-

Distinguishing Features

• Always wears a comb in her hair that is no longer appropriate with her status but is constantly acknowledged as beautiful,
• Her beauty is not eye catching but her appearance is never lost to those around her.

How Does She Dress?: She wears long ball gowns as is the fashion in the court at the moment but they are never exactly as the fashion dictates. So say if the fashion was that dark blue was the only fashionable colour she would wear dark purple or black. Her make up is not huge but is subtly applied and suits the occasion. When not at court or relaxing around her house she wears loose dark coloured tops and an ankle length skirts in complementary colours.

-x-

Habits

Health: She goes out of her way to keep reasonably fit and not over indulge as she has seen other people do.

Hobbies: In her spare time she makes cures and gives them to the poor for free so they do not have to pay huge fees for priests’ healing skills.

Favourite Sayings: ‘I’m not arguing with you, you’re just wrong.’

Speech Patterns: Her speech has to mirror the hugely outrageous thous and thuses in court but she hates and prefers to slip into the speech of her upbringing if she can and talk plainly.

Disabilities: None

Occupation: Politician/Member of the King’s Court

-x-

Talents

Talents/Skills:
• She is an amazing healer and has not yet found an illness she does not know the cure for; of course some people die in her care but not regularly,
• She is a brilliant speaker and can make people listen and emphasize with what she has to say,
• She is a pretty good seamstress for anything that needs mending but making things from scratch is beyond her,
• She is well versed in the rites used in religion at death and birth, and can speak the Ancient Language as fluently as any fledgling priest but would stumble over unfamiliar words,
• She can’t sing at all and is off pitch with every note but can play many musical instruments that do not involve voice.

Birth Order: 1st born child

Parents: Kariana Pale (Mother) and Taiza Iao (Father)

Siblings: 2 much younger sisters and 1 younger brother
• Haliz Tayn-yed
• Kaila Pale’en (aged 16 now)
• Saiyo Pale (aged 10 now)

Spouse: None, though she got very close to getting married once.

Children: None

Significant Others: Her best friend Sofia is her closest reliance and she would trust her with anything and everything.

Relationship Skills: Her relationship skills are very good seeing as she can speak very well and has no trouble making close acquaintances and loose friends. To be her close friend she would trust you almost completely so she has very little of those but she has a lot of political friends.

-x-

History

History: She grew up with her mother travelling from village to village around the country selling curses to who ever needed them. Her no-mad life style was only bearable because they sometimes met up with healers they had seen before and the healing community was a very close on with its own traditions. She learnt how to cure from first hand experience by her mother’s side healing the sick and wounded. She has never met her father and only knows his name because after having child birth shown to her at the age of 6 she got curious and her mother supplied his name and only that. Sometimes in the towns they visited the priests were there saying that their help was not needed and they could manage perfectly fine thanks but they would always stay at least one night in the local tavern. Someone would always come on those nights, those who couldn’t afford priests’ treatment or those who felt the problem was too personal for a male priest to deal with.
After the war the King had with the south she descended onto the battle field after the battle field to heal all she could or at least that was the theory anyway. Healers were meant to stand at the side and watch as the armies got butchered. Sairina couldn’t help herself she had been 14 at the time 1 year before being an adult in her world. She had rushed foolishly down to the armies and began healing all she could from the back of the King’s army forward, her healer bag meant that no-one was going to hurt her, intentionally at least. It was then the King’s son got shot by an arrow right through the abdomen. She had lunged forward to help him not thinking of the consequences of her actions. She saved young Prince Laiars’s (who was only 15 at the time) life and had gotten great thanks in return including an invitation to the palace and court. She was 14 at the time and she wasn’t allowed to go but on her 15th birthday she packed her bags and headed off to the city, after changing her last name to add the yen (‘en if after a vowel) that was traditional in the healer community but would disappear if she was ever married and her name would only be passed on to her daughters not her sons, they would have taken their father’s name as is healer tradition.
When she got to the city she was treated as an honoured in the palace and enjoyed the full joys the city had to offer. After a couple of months she was offered a place in the King’s court and she accepted gaining her own apartment in the palace. She began talking about right for all people, women and men of all races. Most of the court hated the idea but she was in quite high regard with the King who liked her wit. None of the changes she talked about have come into being yet but she is hopeful that maybe she can help people and make a difference.

(Sorry it took so long!)

Heya Molly, no worries for the wait. The only problem I can make out is the Ancient Language trait. It's -extremely- difficult for Human's to pronounce the words, it's like Parseltongue in a way. Only a select few are able to fully understand it. Even those who speak it fluently have trouble! Other than that, it all seems good!

((Yes Molly, this first part may sound familiar, but lets morph the story into our own. That's what RP is for, right? ;P ))

Prologue: Lilia Enters...

Most tales start at a morning or at dawn, the very symbols of a new day and a new tale. But not all stories begin with a sunrise, no this story starts under the remains of the day’s final beams of sunlight, at the very edge of the evening; we begin our tale at dusk.

Under the dim light of the evening a lone pair’s shadow is the only movement that can be seen outside. Water splashes from puddles under the fierce trembling of hooves. A lone black horse gallops through the dying streets. On its back, a rider shivers. She clenches her arms around her mount and presses her body against that of the black stallion. The girl’s figure is hidden by a cape that is still soaked from the nasty rainstorm that had terrorized the surface on and off for the past two days. Her breath is inconsistent and interrupted by occasional coughing. Fearing the drizzle as if it is merely a silence before a greater storm, the pair accelerates. Their pace’ echoes travel through the previously silent city.

Then finally, the instable stallion halts, eventually allowing its struggling rider to dismount. The horse had smelled the girl’s panicked state and had grown restless itself. The cloaked figure badmouths her mount, but her curses are interrupted by two coughs; one is of her own; it announces a coming illness. The other one is uttered by a displeased priest, who stands atop the stairs of her destination.

“One should never wish any living creature such a fate in the vicinity of God’s home.” The holy man preaches, with his arms folded and his sharp chin is raised towards the unclear sky. His old, cold eyes can still throw that menacing look that speaks more than any words ever could and his grave disappointment can be read from the less than content glare.

“My apologies, your Holiness,” the rider answers, “I do not know what devils possessed my tongue. I beg for your forgiveness, please.” But once again her speech is interrupted by her cold. The priest grants her his plea, with a nod and an implication to continue. The rider scrapes her throat and obeys; “But they are not half the devil as the impurity that has brought this weather upon us. Please, my master has sent me to request the assistance of your inquisition. We must strike down the witch that holds responsibility for this misfortune. So is the message I-”

Cut short by her condition, the girl forcefully surrenders to its arms and folds her body in two. But the priest ignores the repeated assaults on the girl’s throat. “I understand. Come in, I invite you, daughter of God, so you may deliver your message. I am in no position to deal with such warnings… If my suspicions are correct; your master speaks of an Everbringing and her blasphemy.”

A modest grin appears on the girl’s trembling lips. “I understand and I thank you, your Holiness. He even has a suspect…” And the messenger followed the priest inside the tavern, leaving a wet trail on the stairs and a fine, free horse out on the streets, but invites a charged and uncomfortable air into the tavern…

You see, in this city, every peculiar event such as this nasty rainstorm, may very well be considered a curse in-between the walls. We cannot and never will truly be certain this it is not a natural event, but one to imply such, voluntarily marks him or her person as the scapegoat. Such words are an open invitation to court and inevitably lead their speaker to the rope. The claim of a curse will always spell someone’s demise. Be it that of a demon, be it that of an innocent victim of fate.

Though the sky her candle is slowly dying, those in the tavern - much less fiery are the customers in the Winged Horse, whose mood reflects that of the grey and moist outside; unpredictable and dreary. The place is normally lively, but not tonight. Everyone knows what is coming; everyone suspects a storm in more than the sense of the word. As always, fear accompanies these feelings of precognition. In the air is a higher law, one that makes men tremble and women crawl.

Liquor still flows in rich values, but slowly. It is hard to believe that there has not been a burst-out yet, but surely the ale will lead to many common men their anger points and insomnia. But the only insecurity to a prediction like that is about the ‘when’ it will happen.

“Oi, ‘dis bloody rain be ‘de fault of yer bloody whore-uvva-wife!?” One of the drunken men spits at one of his fellow drinkers. His out-burst proved to be a grave mistake for a thin sack of bones such as him. First, a fist swung upwards to his chin and the knuckles colored his curly, blonde beard scarlet. The force of the strike was too much for misbalanced legs to handle and it hurled him on the ground. But as the punch drew blood, a third man drew his sword. The blade’s wielder then swore a drunken oath of revenge for his fallen friend and trusted the steel in the back of the ‘unjust offender’. But his bloody roar falls short in volume and fails to overcome the noise of a newborn riot.

Neither the drunken brawlers at the tavern, nor the drenched rider and the priest know of the other respective event that evening or any of the happenings that play in the city this night. But most have one thing in common; an unexpected, potentially disastrous rain.

Hooves patted through the city. Though many hooves patted, these were more hurried than most. It must have been somthing in the heavans that night, but people were angry, no doubt. 'Twas the storm, a natural beast, unlike what those idiots at the church would have the peasants believe.
As with all misfortune, at least in this city, someone must be blamed. That was why he was protecting one of the many nobles. Someone had been blamed, and that someone was angry. Rioting ensued. His job was to protect the person who had hired him. He was, in short, a bodyguard.

The heavy rain had soaked the leather armor he was wearing, and it had begun to way down on him, his hands started to grow numb. He was riding on the front of a coach, while the driver was sat next to him, gripping the reigns fiercly. The noble, however, some lord or other, he couldn't recall, was sat inside, probably with his lover.
Whoever he was, with, or whatever he was doing, he couldn't care less. What he did care about, that, because of the torrential storm, the riders hoarse, scratching voice was feebly trying to intruct the horses, as coach drivers often do. The problem was, not only was this in vain, it was surely deafaning.

Where was this travesty of a driver going, you might ask, well, unbeknownst to them, it was the rioting tavern. The noble was passing though this city, intending to meet an associate in the next, and was planning on waiting out the storm tonight in a local tavern, for reasons unknown to him. Perhaps it was to do with some kind of political machinations, he didnt mind, he just wanted to get paid.

It was about 15 minutes before they pulled up beside the tevern. The place was wrecked. Windows were smashed, tables were upturned, and a few drunken brawlers could still be seen inside. On his masters command, Raemus slide off the coach and entered, taking his cowel off as he closed the door.

He swept his soaked finge to one side, surveying the scene. The brawlers still having it out, all 3 were human, none were carrying a weapon. He looked for the owner, and saw the man cowering being the bar, obviously just wanting them to leave. Raemus approached the men, intending to persuade them to leave. Seeing the man approach, however, the drunks only expected another fight, so he unsheathed his sword, and let them take in the situation, letting them mull it over. They quickly fled. He resheathed his weapon, and would've walked back out, had not the sight of the preist, and his companion, one of those caught his eye. His features creased, and he aproached the preist, making sure to bow slightly before speaking.

"You Holliness, I am sorry to inturrupt, but if I may. My master, a noble was looking to stay in this tavern, but, alas,"

He upturned his nose slightly, refering to the owner. He also had to clear his throat, as his voice was becoming a little rough, having not of spoken in a while now.

"But it seems the proprieter cannott keep his tennants in shape, so, I was wondering, you holliness, may you offer my master a place to rest for the night?"

(By the way, put character thoughts in Italics. It makes things easier to understand.)

The eery breeze from the outside world sought it's way through the broken windows and shattered remains of the supposedly heavy-duty cedar plating that embraced the fine lining of wood of the walls. It scattered the remains of light objects across the bar alongside the chilling droplets of heavy rain. The rain had already began putting out the midst of the alcohol-fueled flames, which had done absolutely nothing to warm the surroundings, even before the rain made it's stalwart entrance.

Lilia gazed around the room with her semi-snake like eyes. They seemed somewhat flustered, and dulled by her slight illness despite the shy smile she held across her lips. They held a tint of emerald green as she scanned the bar, almost glowing through the darkness as some of light vanished. She had taken no part in the riot, except for one mean-hearted fellow who had tried his luck, and pulled a dagger to her throat. If she weren't in such an ill condition, she would have dealt with the attacker before he could even get close. Before he could even realise the pain was there, she had landed a harsh blow to his stomach and had tossed him to the ground, using her other hand to slam down at his chest to make the falling impact even more excruciating. He'd also had to suffer yet another physical torture: his own knife disintegrated into a pile of heated rocks molding themselves to his hands. He writhed in pain.

It went down a little something like this. She'd thought to herself prior to the event, almost analysing her own performance and calling on some distant memory of the wizard who had taught her how to defend herself before the man had even grabbed her:
"Shift your elbows slightly, and knock up your arms. Being agile in such situations is an advantage. (Something I can thank being a Lamia for..) Spread your right hand fingers out and click with your left index finger and thumb. Whisper the words: "Incenda Imphermos 'Dagger'" and watch the dagger melt into molten rocks within his own hands. Before it can drip, use the moment of opportunity to your advantage and assert your position. Dash at his stomach with your left then put most of your strength into tossing him over your shoulder. As he falls, throw your right at his chest to send him down even faster. Smirk as they get a one last glimpse before hitting the ground with a 'very' severe burn, dense concussion and that ever-so-stereotypical image of being beaten by a cute, innocent looking girl..." She took five seconds to assess the severity of the casualty. Running the possibilities through her mind as if reading from bullet points on paper.
Time to recover physically: Approxiamately Six Weeks.
Damage done: Severe Burn Scars, use of hand disabled and possible head injury - Periodic Migraines. Atleast two broken ribs, and if punched hard enough, internal bleeding may occur. Spinal injury possible, but if so, only minor.
Time to recover mentally: Months?

She took her mindset back to the present, only to notice a new face emerging from the darkened and damp world outside. He was soaked, the leather boundings of what she could make out from the distance she was stood at seemed to be dripping the liquid that poured from the sky. He carried a a blade. Not the most settling entrance as she witnessed its full length unsheathed, a successful attempt to scare the three brawlers off. Lilia scanned her vision over his body, and took in the details of his attire and physical state. Nonetheless, she shook her head back to reality, and gave the male a brief smile alongside a polite nod. The priest next to her seemed displeased with her previous violent behaviour, but shrugged it off with the excuse: "It was self defence after all."

Lilia couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh as she brushed down her skirt to keep the wind from blowing it's light-linen up which would most likely show anything above her thighs, but below her waist. Her body was also soaked, and the cold blood that flowed through her veins certainly wasn't helping her keep warm, nevermind the illness it also carried. "Damn this mild flu. I can hardly keep my vision focused, nevermind keep up the rather brave act I'm putting on". She brought a hand to her lips to let out a cough without spluterring her rather venomous saliva amongst the two males nearby. The priest pushed infront of her, and stood firmly infront of the 'bodyguard' to speak. It was quite obvious that he had no intention of letting Lilia speak to the male, not that she would engage in conversation anyway because of her slightly shy nature. Lilia peered over the priests shoulders, and gave the leather-bounded male another smile, despite it being of timid intent.

"If you do not mind sleeping within the stone walls of the city chruch with nothing but a blanket and a hay-stuffed pillow, then yes. But I doubt your 'master' would even consider dealing with such an underbearing. For a price, however, I can offer you the night at my home... It is warm, comfy and not too far..." The priest's words came out with confidence, a slightly 'posh' tone to them.

He looked to the preist, and folded his arms around his chest, thinking about the proposition. Raindrops were now creeping further in the building, so this also kept him somewhat warm. He bit down on his tongue slightly, there wasn't really that much to consider, he knew for sure that his client wouldn't appretiate the church, and would much rather the home of the piest. If the price was reasonable, of course. He looked up after a few minutes, saying each word carefully and with tact, one could never be too careful in this place.

"I thank thee for the offer, your Holliness, and, while im sure my master would be willing to accept such a grand proposition, the only question, of course, is the matter of the price you so mentioned,"

He thought over what he just said, it all seemed fine, nothing that he could possibly latch onto. He never trusted these so called "Leaders of Religion,". He saw them simply as theives and backstabbers, with better clothing than most. Their opinions swayed with the people. One moment, they could be your greatest ally in your hour of need, and in the same moment, your executioner.

A minute or so had passed since he had last spoke, when he heard a scream eminating from outside. It was earpiercing, filled with terror and dread. He turned on one foot, and walked with a quickened pace, making quite sure he was certain with every step, he planted each foot firmly on the gound, like each step had a purpose.

When he passed the ruined doorway, into the nether regions of the dark, damp, and firelit street, what he saw scared him as much as the woman he found next to the carraige. The driver was slumped back in his seat, his throat slit. Blood, which was obviously fresh, had started seeping down his clothes and into the already soaked woodwork of the carraige. The fact his eyes were at peace told him he either knew the attacker, or he didn't see it coming. He ran to the door to the carraige, terrified at what he knew he would find.

He swung the door open, and there he saw him, the master and his wench. his eyes were shut, as if someone had closed them out of respect, multiple stabwounds covering his body. The womans eyes were, in contrast to their status, left open, her jaw was hanging limp. She had been stabbed in the chest. He stepped back, and tried to recover his senses. Surely he wouldn't be blamed for the, for the priest would vouch for him. Right?

Then he remembered his earlier thoughts. No, he'd be the one to sign the death warrant, he imagined. He looked for the murder weapon, and found a bloodied dagger near one of the carraige's wheels. He thoughtlessly picked it up. It was a cheap dagger, with a dull blade and a hilt wrapped in old straps. He started thinking then, his mind trailing off from the urgency of the situation. Could this of been the work of a paid assassain? With the way politics of this city went, that certainly wouldn't surprise him. But then, they would want to frame someone. Of course. Him. Which meant he had to get out of here, fast. He turned, as he heard a squealching sound behind him- footsteps in the mud. He, again, turned on one foot, the dagger still in his hand. It was the city guard. Or at least, a large group of them, he estimate there were 8 of them. He wagered they'd been tipped off. He should've ran while he had the chance. Too late now though.

A thin layer of mist was starting to fog the city's inner walls now, laying itself across the ground so finely that it was almost impossible to take a step without realising where your own feet were truly going. The wetness the water had created made it all the more believable that you weren't stepping on concrete at all, it was more of a moist soil-like texture that clamped to the soul of your feet. The coldness was also growing stronger, bringing the weaker of the city inhabitants to succumb to it's deeper desires. It's command. Or so, that's what the church would have the believers listen to. The church would say anything to convert the non-believers to their wealthy grasp. Claiming the rain was from a demon was one thing they were right about, however...

Lilia had her own perspective of the situation, and it related to scientific intent rather well. So well, in fact, that it may have been believable by 'some' of the inhabitant god-worshippers.
Again, she thought to herself, as if pointing out notes embedded into her mind.
1. Examine temperature: About -6 degrees and growing colder. If it was truly raining, why hadn't the rain frozen over yet? Not one sign of ice.
2. The rain itself is heavier than usual, and it's coming down from the skies with a speed that outmatches normal weather patterns. Why?
She tilted her head to the side, and took a deep whiff of the air. Being a Lamia was advantageous over all of the other races when it came to using your senses.
3. The rain has a minor scent. It smells more like oil, than water. Not flammable. It could possibly contain another liquid within it's core. For what purpose?
She tilted her head back to it's original position, and nodded to herself, coming to a secretive conclusion within her own mind. Perhaps it was best she kept it a secret for now.

Alongside the rather dilignant stench of another liquid inside of the rain droplets, she could also smell the scent of blood from where she was standing and it was close. Very close. It sent shivers down her flexible spine. Her 'slightly' scaley skin flexed in anxious and timid behaviour. She was flustered, almost bewildered by the observation she could make with her mere senses. Yet again, she planned out something inside of her head. Trying to anticipate what the scene outside looked like, by merely using temperature, common sense, and the scent's emanating from outside. Also, she could determine where the bodies lay by using the sound of rain beating against the bodies. She closed her eyes momentarily and tried to picture the scene

The driver's slumped back in his seat, a possible upper body wound. It's quite probable that he has suffered a slice to the neck. His breathing cancelled out earlier than the others, and silently with no struggle. I can tell because his breathe's scent burst in one last gush before passing away and the fact that it's a clean cut determines how much blood flows out through the skin. The other two... Was it somebody tapping the wood of the carriage, or was that their heartbeats I heard before they passed away? I'm going to go with a stab to the chest, though it could quite possibly be a stab through the back. The heart would pump one last time out of mere reaction to the pain, and that's probably what I heard. But both were killed at the same time? I heard no screaming, no heavy breathing nor signs of struggling from them either. So it must of been a fast departing from the killer from one to the other. The winds blowing, East, I think... The killer definately made an escape in the opposite direction. The scent blows with the wind, getting weaker towards the East.

Lilia's eyes fluttered back open as she smiled, rather proud of herself as she made her way outside. The gusts of wind definately gaver her a hard time trying to focus her already blurry vision over the blood-tainted scene. The stench up close was almost nausiating, nevertheless, she remained vigilant as she and the priest came beside the guard-surrounded male infront. It seemed there was going to be trouble, and out of mere instinct Lilia whispered some quiet words to save the man some trouble. "Dagger, Illupreficia Malifica". The dagger slipped from his hands, no matter how hard a grip he may have had on it's hilt, and vanished into thin air. Though it was merely an illusion. He was still holding the dagger, it was merely being covered by some sort of invisibility charm.

He stared blankly, past the soldiers, past the priest. He stared at her. What would happen to him now? They would think him guilty of killing the noble. So would he, given the evidence. He could see it now, a mock trail held in the morning, and he would be at the gallows by noon. That's how it went. His life would end, he would be forgotton. Everything would be like he was never born. No, no, to his "family" he had never been born. Put correctly, it would be like he never existed, and that scared him more. If he was remember, it would be as a murderer.

And that was if the guards were kind, if they wearn't, he supposed that, with some back room bribery, he'd be at the slave market in less then a week, and in 2, he would be a deck hand. T'was then that he remembered a poem someone he knew once told him:

"Holding on for our dear lives
And we're praying once again.
Rotten luck or just jonahed?
The talisman is in my hand."

It was completly inappropriate in the given situation, but it did bring his mind back to reality, saw what was going on. That.... thing, that.... snake was speaking, whispering. She was selling him out, no, she had sold him out! She must've had an accomplice, another of her kind, and wanted to frame someone who they new would get the blame!

It was then a stranger thing happened. He then notice that the guards wearn't looking at him at all, or his hand, or the dagger, for that matter. They were looking past him, at the scene. He froze where he stood, this must be where their realisation kicked in! They walked towards him. He closed his eyes, expecting to be thrown to the ground, into the cold, cobblestone ground at any moment. Then they walked past him. He opened his eyes, and turned to see what they were doing.

They were inspecting the scene, but why? It should've been aparant. Then a soldier patted him on the back, and what he said only served to confuse him further, the fact he seemed genuinly sincere and apathetic trouble him more. He, in a typical, harsh, almost sereotypical voice of a soldier, one of a commoner, down on his luck, and very tired voice, said:

"Don't worry friend, it happens to the best of us sometimes. You can't protect them all. Go home, get some rest, we'll catch the people that did this,"

He then turned back to look at the girl. He followed her gazed down to the hand wielding, or rather, was wielding, the dagger. It was gone, vanished. No. That was why she was whispering, it must've been an illusion, a trick of the mind. He slowly regained his senses, and walked to the pair. After clearing his throat a couple of times, he looked to the priest and said:

"I was thinking, is his Holliness willing to put up with a servant of the lord, if he is willing to pay the same amount that would've been offered to his master,"

He said this, trying his best to sound like he wasn't trying to capitalize on his clients early demise. When the preist was mulling this over, not looking, her turned his gaze slightly, to the girl, and looked at her, giving her a knowing gaze and nodded, quickly mouthing the words 'Thank you,' before turning back, and awaiting the preists decision.

She could sense the sudden change of direction in the wind, and it carried the scents of death a different way. It was troubling, and now she knew somebody was behind all of this disastrous weather. It was certainly nothing of naturistic vibes, but more like that of a demons work. A very powerful demon. If you can pull off a stunt like this with magic alone, something is definately out of place. She could sense the coldness driving even further, trying to get at those with weaker hearts. Dig deep into their minds and make them succumb to the ill-effects of hypothermia if it continued to decrease in temperature. It's probably best to find some warm shelter for tonight, and see what comes of tomorrow. It has already reached midnight. The moon is at it's highest point.

Lilia was surprised herself to see the guards commit themselves to suspecting somebody other than the armed male infront. Her little conjuration had pulled it off somehow, and by the nine divine was it a well-played move. If she hadn't, it would have definately been the gallows for the innocent man infront. The guards had already began a thorough investigation of the scene, and were whispering among themselves. A rather intellectual-looking fellow seemed to be jotting down notes with a quill and ink onto some paper. How it was possible in the rain, was unknown to her. Nonetheless, that was the least of her concerns. She'd now began to exhaust herself to the point where standing upright was a mudane task.

She was now completely drenched, her clothes absorbing the water pouring from the misty sky like a sponge. Her white top was almost at the point of transparency, so naturally, her arms came to fold across her chest in recognition. Her cheeks flustered a little in embarassment. Obviously coming close to a completely blurred vision, swaying from side to side like a pendulum seem to nausiate her some more. The illness she had was certainly taking a toll on her body. G-great... What should I do? I left my medicine at my masters quarters...

As Raemus, the leather bounded innocent male stood infront and gave her a thankful nod, she could barely make out what his lips were mouthing. She swayed a little again, but reaffirms her position with a keen sense of balance. Thank the heavens I'm a ranger... Else I wouldn't be standing right now. Lilia forced a smile, as if to return conversation without having to speak. It was a smile that clearly showed she wanted to say: "Your welcome..." but it was rather evident that her state of mind and physical atrributes were getting worse and worse as time passed by. Damn it... I can't keep this up... We have to get moving soon... I just hope they haven't noticed... It'd be embarassing...

The skies churned with a great flash of lightning, and the beckoning clash of rip-roaring thunder. It illuminated the city with a potential danger, it's bolts barely missing the main reagents of some of the most famous buildings scattered about the human city. It was dangerously close, and the roaring above the clouds sent many of the hiding birds flocking out from leafless tree's, a promosing 'podium' for such creatures. Lilia couldn't help but stare up at the nether-black region that seemed like an endless world she'd never get to explore. The rain splashing across her face, the cold, bitter rain... With one last breath, she succumbed to her ilness, and collapsed to heer knee's with her palms spread across the soaking wet floor, enveiled with the same layer of mist as before. Panting, she slowly started to fade into the unknown world of unconsciousness.

He stood there on the spot. Why was the preist taking so long to decide? Wouldn't it just be a simple case of yay or nay? Unless. Unless he knew who he was. Though he doubted that, it was kept very hush hush.
He turned back to the Lamia. She seemed very weak, tired. He suspected she had been awake since the early hours of the morning, and that this situation, especialy considering that she had to use magic, was tireing for her. Then there was the wet and the cold, which had been clawing at him now for a while aswell, and, if he was starting to feel it's effects, then she must be somekind of agony.

The thunder made him jump, and the bolt of lightning caught his eye. The black pit of nothingness would be looming over the city by tomorrow. How he needed to get out of this place, it was cold, damp, and violent. He turned back to the girl just as she collapsed. Her eyes seemed to flutter before she fell, as if she was reluctantly entering some terrible nightmare.

Before she hit the ground, he was rushing to her aid. He knew what she needed, warmth and rest. If she stay out here for much longer, he would fear for her health. He caught her at her 'neck' with his right arm, and with his left, he wrapped around her back. He lifted her up, and stood, so her body was level with his chest. He looked up to the preist, his face striken with worry.

The next thing he knew, he was running, a Lamia in his arms. His footsteps tapped quickly on the cobblestone road. He knew where he was going, there was a fine tavern further up the road. Unlike the one they were at early, this was a refined establishment. Its tennants were of a higher class, the beds were of velvet, supposadly, it was the best tavern in the city, and he wasn't in the mood to argue.

He saw the place up ahead, the lights were still on, he could already feel the warmth present. It was almost majestic in this weather. As he approached it, he shifted the girls body, so she was hanging over her should, being held in place by just one arm, so he could get the money out of his pocket, the price for one double room- he wanted to make sure she was okay. He shifted through his pockets, and pulled his hand out. He had at least 5Gp, 12Sp, and alot of Cp. More than enough.

He entered the place and stood there, taking in the warmth, then headed straight for the proprieter, not focusing on whatever else was going on the the tavern, he just saw this balding man in his mid forties, and a warm bed. Two warm beds. When he reached the desk, he brought out 4Gp, ignoreing the odd looks he was getting from throughout the room. He simply nodded towards the man, thankful that he recieved the room key rather quickly, and ran to the designated room.

when he reached the room, before he looked around, he lay the Lamia in the comfier of the two beds, and wrapped her tightly in the covers. He then sat on his bed, after closing and locking the door. The room was dully decorated, and apart from the beds, the only pieces of furniture, were two wooden draws, which were next to their respective beds, and a table situated in the middle of the room, complete with basic foodstuffs, like fruit. It wasn't long before he felt the temtation to sleep himself, it had been a long day, and he expected it would be a longer day tomorrow. So, sighing heavily, he lay in the velvet mess, and, slowly but surely, he felt the dark embrace of sleep.

The unconscious state Lilia had seemed to drift into offered her a rather diluded, yet familiar state of dreaming. Lots of images rushed through her head, most of which being related to some sort of rustling and rigid movement. Horses galloping through cobblestoned streets. The clattering of hooves over the stone... Then blankly, alongside a terrible migraine, her vision came back into the depths of reality: It seemed she was moving, being 'transported' by a strong embrace. Is this part of the dream? Keeping her eyes open was excruciating, yet she tried to fight it. It's no use, I'm drifting between reality and unconsciousness. Before she could manage to muster up the strength to turn her head upwards, her vision and mind faded back into the nether-world of dreaming.

Her cold state wasn't helping at all, it only furthered her nightmare. Banshee's lay around her, touching her with an ice cold grasp. Each touch was like a barrage of icy needles digging into her somewhat scaly skin. I.. I can't even gain the strength to breathe properly, nevermind scream... Yet again, she found the image within her mind shift as Raemus carried her into the inn. She could immediately feel a warmth: The Banshee's Bane. It hissed and faded away, altering her icy cold nightmare into a more fragile one. A ball of fire seemed to glow infront of her eyes. It was like taking adrenaline after being extremely hurt. The feeling of warmth was the best thing she could hope for. It was her personal saviour other than what she knew was really 'saving' her. Raemus. Though, her realisation of that, would surely come in the morning.

As she was lay down onto the bed, her dreaming state shifted forms yet again. This time seeing herself fade into a warm, comforting sleep underneath the sun's embrace, which beemed down through the branches of forest leaves above. She was cuddled up with her back at the trunk of a maple tree. It was magical. Her very own heaven within a hell. Perhaps being unconscious was for the best. Atleast it had cleared her mind. She had no idea that she was currently being 'wrapped' up in a very middle-high class bed by none other than the male from before.

Her illness would soon fade over the course of the night, having over-exhausted herself for the day. 32 hours without sleep is never a good idea, especially considering the Lamia's immune system. It was rather bad in comparison to the diversity of a Human's, not to mention that she was extremely tired anyway. If she was to be out in the freezing cold for any longer than ten more minutes, there would be no doubt she'd succumb to the ill-effects of hypothermia. As she lay in the warming bed, her vision came back to reality once more, despite being a blurred mess of colours, she could make out the male figure laying on the bed opposite. Almost immediately, a small though noticeable smile curved across her scarlet lips as she thought one last time before fading into a deepened state of melodical sleep: A life for a life, it seems... But why... Would he help 'me'?

The night was brutally savage, with the chances of a fire being high in such ridiculous weather, it was definately not a safe place to be. The priest had obviously been left behind in the darkened world outside. The darkness and the weather looming above didn't seem to end until the morning, which inevitably meant the thunder clashes above were deafaning throughout the whole night and the occasional flashes of lightning were the only source of light. Most lamps had been put out by the rain, despite being run off a highly stable oil called 'Nexfin'. Eventually, the heavy rain had ceased to exist, and instead, a thin layer of frost and ice took the place of the veiling mist and the sun made extraordinary patterns of beaming light. It was as if the night before had been totally imaginary. The city was now a haven for winter-lovers, only enhanced by the fact that a very passionate rainbow tore it's way through the sky.

As the morning came by, Lilia's desire to fight her illness rationalised with her mind within her own little dreamworld. Right... Atleast let me wake and offer the male some gratitude... Considering she was still within her own forest of natural heaven essentials, it seems her mind had disagreed. Fine... I hate myself sometimes...

The night passed far more smoothly for him. There was no pain, no cold, only a soft warm bed, and his dreams. The first things he saw were images of a far off land, he dreamt, of course, of slaying great swathes of Demon, with heaps Baval behind him, legions more ahead of him, but he knew he would not lose. He could not. This was his dream after all, and he would triumph over what ever odds he presented himself with.

After a while though, he grew bored of these dreams. He could feel the sun start to beat on his face. His senses began to pick up on little things, like where he was and why, the smell of the person barely a metre from him and the sound, and pace of her breathing. From what he heard, she seemed fine, or at least, she was recovering well.

He remained in this state of being half asleep for about an hour and a half, bfore he decided it was time for him to wake. First he streched his arms and legs, letting out a low gasp as he did so- they ached from the previous night. He then opened his eyes, only for the sun glare that was present to shut them again. It was to late now, he knew he wouldn't be able to get to sleep again, so he opened them again, and slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes thoroughly. He let out a yawn, and surveyed his surroundings, like a wary herbovore, afraid to wake the potenialy venomous beast not far from him. He had hear the old wives tales, of not waking Lamias, and he had no intention of putting them to the test, he was more than happy to let her wake on her own terms.

Eventualy, he did rise from his bed, and stumbled over to the table, picking up and apple, and taking a bite, litting the sweet juices drip from his mouth, he swept them away like some barbarian, and sat back on the side of his bed. He wondered how she would react to him saving her. He hoped not to be hugged, as he new, if a man were coiled by a Lamia, she could easily crush him, some times by accident. She did save him though, so he expected her to be far more intelligent than that, perhaps intelligent enough to come with him. But then, with her talents, he expected she would be rather expensive. Twas lucky for him that he just happedn to have found a dead nobles wallet last ngiht. What luck. He would have to speak to her master today, that was certain.

He sat back on his bed shortly after throwing an apple core out the window, and leant back against the headboard. He closed his eyes, simply enjoying the stillness, that calmness of the city, before it would decend into the usual mob. He wagered somebody had already been blamed for the storm last night. Heck, he might even stroll past the gallows to see who had been, never know, he might be suprised.

Lamia had the tendency to sleep heavily, but without the snoring attribute most human's tend to carry whilst doing so. Instead, they emanated a low purr, almost constantly. It was semi-quiet, not disturbing in any way to most ears. It was much like a content feline basking in the glory of warmth. Her cheeks were flushed with a pale pink tone and she rolled over, biting the edge of her pillow sub-consciously. A drip of her saliva singed it's feathery domain as she mumbled something almost inaudible within her dreary state. It sounded something along the lines of: "Need... Food..." The gentle rumble within her stomach reinforced the idea further.

The sun's rays glistened their way in through the classily-designed multicoloured glass of the window most near her, sending an astonishing amount of lush reds and green's over the course of her scaly skin which glittered in return. It was almost magical. The blanket half covered her form, stopping at her waist so that the lower portion of her body was foremost covered. A smile pursed the edge of her lips as her eyes began to open, and scan the small area of the room. Her vision blurred, but not from any illness this time, merely because her half-asleep state deemed it so.

The fire was lit, but it had been burning all night. The scent of the charcoal she could sense proved that it'd last another hour or two before dieing out. She stretched her arms out and yawned heavily, trying to sit up without falling back to sleep. By the time she'd re-positioned herself to an upright sitting position, with her head resting against the headboard, she had only just noticed the Human male laying just a metre or so away, on the bed next to her. He seemed content, possibly pondering thoughts about herself, or the sudden change in weather. Was.. Is that the man who brought me here? What should I say? Her mind dashed through all of the various possibilities, but almost always ended in one conclusion: That she was too timid to say anything. No, wait... I have to thank him... Come on, girl... Build up some courage and speak your mind...

Her stomach grumbled again, and her hands came down instinctively, almost to investigate the sound. Okay... Maybe speaking my mind isn't such a good idea... After a minute of blankly, albeit subconsciously staring at the male beside her, she finally managed to part her lips to talk. Though it wasn't necersarily what she had intended to say in the first place, she flustered another scarlet blush across her cheeks.

"E-excuse me sir... I believe I owe you my life, do I not?" She tried to keep her eye contact amongst his own, but her timid nature only drew her gaze away towards the window.
"I mean.. It was you who brought me here, wasn't it? If not, then.. I-" Her stomach let out yet another low grumble, like that of a hungry wolf. This is so embarassing... I best refrain from physical contact until I'm sure I can trust him either. I could use a hug right now... A modest smirk accompanied the thought, as if she had contemplated his previous ponderment somewhat before shaking her head back to reality.
"I.. Just.. Well... I'm not the most sociable person.. So.. Forgive my lack of enthusiasm when it comes to being appreciative." Her eyes widened a little at her gruff morning voice, though it still held that same flowery British accent that made her sound 'posh'.
"Well.. May I know the name of my saviour? Atleast give me something to work with here... Else I'll have to reach into the depths of my inner form and... And... En-coil myself around you until it's desperately hard to breathe!" She tried to make a light-hearted joke to build up her own confidence, and get the male to respond with something similar. I guess I should just be friendly...

He opened his eyes has he heard her speak in her sleep. That brought a smile to the edge of his lips, and lo, though the low purring(-like) sound she made soothed him to the point where he almost crept back asleep. He was a little worried that he did not know what Lamia ate. Though he expected one of the tavern cooks to know, he wasn't sure if they stocked food for Lamia, and he certainly doubted they were used to dealing with them.

This brought his eyes to look over her. While he admired the morning light creeping through the windows, and the scales Lamia possessed, the two combined were simply magnificent. Truly beautiful, he thought. His thoughts suddenly turned to her, but her got rid of them quickly, telling himself not to be so disgusting. He noticed her eyes had started to open, but estimated it would be a few minutes before they would open fully yet.

His gazed now turned to the lit fire, that was clearly designed to be the centerpiece of the room, and while didn't completely fail in that respect, he was sure that the room was far to small to warrant such splendor. Regardless of that, he doubted the pityful fire would last much longer anywayy, as it had been on all night. He wagered a guess that that Lamian nose could tell how long it had been burning for, and for how much longer it would burn.

He turned his gaze to watch her sit up, though he didn't turn his head. He let the left side of his face smile, so she couldn't see it. She had guessed she was shy, he just wanted to see how shy, so he let her struggle through a potentialy awkward convosation. It was only when she had finished, did his demenour loosen. First he let out a small laugh at the joke, then he turned to face her.

"Well, First things first, I am you 'Saviour', as you put it. My name is Raemus Mitpes. Now, onto this bussiness of 'coiling',"

He turned his entire body to face him now, making it known that, while he was joking, bits of what he was saying may or may not be taken seriously.

"How am I to know you won't 'En-coil' yourself around me now that I've told you everything, hm? It isn't like I could stop you, what with me not wishing to raise a blade to a lady,"

He smiled a little before continuing, knowing this next bit would make her feel nervous.

"Besides, if it is a high quality of 'En-coiling', I may not want to,"

He chuckle slightly, letting himself grin. Of course he was only joking, but he suspected she may take it literally.

The fire was sizzling away, chomping at the bit with it's amber flames. The rocks were white hot, spreading ash across its base effortlessly as the slight breeze rushed in through the underside of the room's misfitted mahogany door. In fact, she'd only just realised how small the room was. It was about 4.5 metres in width, and just under 15 metres in length. Or atleast, it was small in comparison to what she was used to at the castle. Her eyes re-focused, charming her own gaze back into the avid snake eyes she could never be rid of. Though she was shortsighted in comparison to a human's sight like most Lamia, her keen other senses made up for it. It made the room seem even smaller than it actually was. Her coloured vision, was also slightly duller, leaning more towards a greyscale than anything. Or atleast, that's what her human form offered.

Lilia couldn't help but cock her head to the side, trying to ponder the statement about 'encoiling' herself around him. It was indeed rather amusing. Her golden locks of hair shimmered under the constant beaming of the sun's rays as her fringe flocked over her right snake-like eye. She smirked, and shook her head like a pendulum swaying from side to side. It seemed she attempted to giggle, but only ended up clearing her groggy and dry throat. Was that an undirect flirt...?

"Oh, don't be silly, I was merely jesting. It's a common folklore tale, we do no such thing. The only thing you have to worry about is the saliva. So, don't get your hopes up for anything more than a hug."
She couldn't help but lose herself in a few thoughts before continuing. I'd best keep my mouth covered if I cough or sneeze if I am around these human's, I doubt they'd appreciate having slightly burned skin, or a rash. The slightest drop would cause skin irritation.

"I wouldn't get your hopes up though. I don't often revert to my other form in public places such as these... For obvious reasons. I mean... It's bad enough that we get treated badly anyway..."
She shook her head slightly, pouting. It seems her confidence had been gaining quickly. Speaking of which... Just because we're half-snake, that gives them no reason to treat us as such. Discrimination.

"So, why did you do it, sir? Save me, I mean..." Her voice now growing a little softer, almost melodical and with an appreciative tone to it. Her eyes scanned over the man's appearence, and then over her own. She was still damp, though it was hardly anything to worry about. She was just glad to be breathing. Her white shirt had shrunken somewhat, barely managing to keep the upper half of her body appropriately covered. Thank god I have a blanket... Everything else was in perfect shape other than being slightly dampened.

Meanwhile, outside was bustling with life. The laughter of children throwing snowballs and what-not at each other echoed down the cobblestoned paved streets. Their mothers were cheering them on, and indicating fingers towards the astonishing rainbow arching through the sky. Was last night just a dream?
Footsteps cracking the thin layers of ice, or sliding across it in an attempt to reach their destinations with more haste. Merchants with their stalls lined with fur, spices, weapons and armor called out to the people advertising their wares despite the cold conditions. Business was still necersary.

He looked about the room again, giving it another look as she did. It seemed to him she was looking for something. For why else would she keep looking about? He looked at the mahogany door. Not only did it fit, but in this place, it seemed to say: "I'm richer than you, and I can prove it," It seemed only to serve as a status of wealth, and was not in good taste either. It seemed to him that this room really served as a preveiw to the other, more expensive rooms. He suspected they would be large, with something that at least fitted with the mahogany.

His eyes blinked slowly. He was still a little tired, and he could feel a small headache clammer up from the depths of his brain. His head seemed, to him at least, and felt, to have molded with the head board, as he usually slept against them, instead of using the pillows. He did this, so at least if he was attacked suddenly, he was already halfway up. He heard her attempt at giggle, and returned with a chuckle of his own, but that sounded like more of a pained cough. He wondered if the cold had affected him more thoroughly than he first thought. No matter. He would survive.

He waited untill she finished talking, and thought over what she said. A common folklore? Well, at least it wasn't he that had to put it to the test, and he feard for the poor bugger that did. He knew the saliva was posionous, that it could cause rash' and irritation, though he wasn't sure to what degree. He didn't know whether it was deadly or not, though he imagined a kiss could kill.

He thought about what she said next. He despised people that thought they could treat a seemingly sentient species the way they did, soley because they were 'On top'. He reckoned there was a place, somewhere, where the Lamia ruled. He wouldn't mind seeing what it was like there, how they would do things. That wasn't to say he was a saint when it came to them. Derogotory terms always popped into his head, but, because he spent his early life in aristocracy, he had learnt to keep his thoughts and his speech very seperate.

He felt her eyes scan over him as he thought about what she had said last. Why did I save her? Was it simply a matter of a life for a life? Probably, deep down, in part, yes. Though I suspect I did it on impulse, simply because somebody was in need and he had to help them. It was almost an instinct, if you will, to do what was right.

He looked towards her, and answered her question with the exact thoughts he had just been thinking. To continue the conversation, he added his own questions, namely, Why did she save him? And what was her name? He leant back, awaiting her response, as he heard the city waking outside, as guild mates opened their halls, servants woke their masters, and children fought with imaginary weapons.

Although Lilia had always been rather shy, mainly due to her very sheltered life within a wizards tower out on the coastline, she seemed rather keen to exchange information with him and discuss further, though the longer they stayed, the higher the price for the room would be and she knew it. It'd be mean to keep the man talking for too long. Maybe I should offer to pay half? However, despite being as such, she knew how to handle herself respectfully around others if necersary. Politeness and manners were her essentials. If she wasn't as kindhearted and innocent as she was now, she'd be in big trouble when it came to serving her master. It's okay to be over-polite and innocent as long as I don't let people take advantage of me... She called back the words of a wise old wizard she once knew. For a moment, she looked saddened, wondering if the poor old man was still alive. That last request was a hardened blow: "Leave me now, and never come back. Do not question my motives. One day, you'll understand." She had to live with the quote running through her mind everyday. He was like a father to her. The father she never had.

She picked up her head, and looked back towards him, granting a brief smile before speaking clearly to answer his questions with her flowery voice.
"I'm Lilia Whiterose, and I-" It seems her hunger issue was reinstated with a low grumble, interrupting her mid sentence. How embarassing...
"I apologise, I haven't eaten at all. Do you by chance care to discuss this over some breakfast? I'll be more than happy to pay for anything you wish, and for the room."

Lilia pulled the blanket up to her chest level, and kept it huggled against her to keep what warmth it had left. Then, something made her realise just how troublesome this day could be if she were to stay for a moment longer, the clattering of those ever-so familiar hooves battering the cobblestone a mile away. The lord she worked under, was on his way to find her. It's... It's monday... By the nine divine... I wasn't there to await his first orders... I'm in trouble...

She pictured him as she last saw him, a poem clearly reminded her of his appearence. A rich, fashionistic stalemate between him and one of his closest friends. He was always in competition with others to 'look the best'.

He'd a feathered cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

It sent a sudden wave of discomfort down her reptillian spine. She'd never been late before, nor had she even seen the lord become upset with her behaviour. Though he'd probably be understanding if she were to explain, she still felt like she was going to be in a lot of trouble. Punishment will be endured... I've seen what he has done to the others... I'm just the lucky one... Has my luck finally run out?

He stood slowly, leaning against the windowsill, both of his hands suppoting him, as he looked out into the awakening city. Yes, they should continue this over dinner. It would give him more time to think. He looked down at the streets below. He could see a child had slipped on the ice, and was now being treated by his mother. Stupid boy.
He turned, and looked about the room in disgust, think over what she, Lillia, Lillia Whiterose had said. The smell of this room was getting to him. It wasn't her, nor he, it was just, this place. The longer he stayed here, the higher the price would be, the food was a ripp off, and his bed had been damp from the last customer. That, he didn't want to think about. He shook his head when she offered to pay for anything, he would at least be a gentleman about the situation, but first, they had to leave.

He walked forward, towards, the door, and opened it, motioning for her to come, simply saying that they might as well enjoy the fresh air outside while they eat.
While he waited for her to be ready, he went down to the proprietor, and paid the remainding sum for the room. He had paid most of it last night, so he only needed a few Silvers. Conveniently, this amounted to the rest of his silvers and coppers. He scowled as he went back upstairs to check on Lillia, knowing he had been conned, and knowing there was little he could do about it. Oh well, he was sure he would get his comupence. At least, he hoped.
He stormed up the stairs, in a vain attempt to not make to much fuss, his good mood a little dampened. He guessed he would take her to a small, yet cheap place about a quarter of a mile away. He was always welcome there, as he went there often. He knew the owner well, they used to be good friends. Lo, while they were still on good terms, it wasn't as well as they used to be. T'was probably because he got to know his sister a little to well. Regardless, the place was comfertable, and they even had a covered area outside. It was perfect for a cheap breckfast in the morning sun.
Just what he needed, food, and a warm drink.
He smiled at Lillia as he appeared back in the doorway, and asked her if she was ready, as he grabbed his woolen coat, and put it back on. It was rough, but it kept him warm. He now leant against the doorway, yawning slightly as he waited for the Lamia infront of him.

The sun hid behind some moving clouds, gray in colour and wide in width creating a momentary period of darkness. The rainbow had made it's own vanishing act just moments before, reinforcing the idea that the city had been darkened by that of a greater force at work. It sent shivers down her spine. It only furthered her fear of what her future held.

The clattering of hooves grew nearer and nearer with every passing second. At this rate, they'd barely make it outside without being confronted by the lord. It's never a good idea to keep the 'Lord of Primius' waiting. His words, not mine. He had the power, and the wealth to put a small army together that could match that of the king's men. Elite troups that were bred to fight, and she'd seen what they could do. Not that he was going to, it was a simple matter of finding Lilia, and giving her a brief warning, or so she thought.

Lilia looked herself over with slight embarassment, trying to push the thoughts of her master from the back of her mind. It was a strange trait she picked up, working as a slave, though she had the money to live a rather splendid and free life, she often thought to herself why she kept to one of the few things she knew about rather clearly. Slavery. Servitude. Combat. Avoiding relationships. She feared that the same would happen to her friends if she made any, the very same thing that the wise old wizard had told her: "Our sociability has come to an end... You are now alone in the world. Only converse with those you deem trustworthy and may the stars guide your path." and with a great flash of light, she was gone. No doubt transported by his cunning conjuration to an place on unknown location. She was alone, confused and above all, petrified. Being in the midst of a battlefield was no doubt the worst experience of her life. But why did he transport me to the nether-regions of an ongoing war? It was still unknown to her, and to that effect, she vowed herself a promise. Being weak was no longer an option. She had to fend for herself physically and mentally. Being nourished for the younger years of her life did not help. She'd never even fought before, other than practicing her magic on target dummy's appropriately placed within her beloved tower.

The wizard had indeed put her into the most memorable experience of her life, and possibly one of the most valuable. She just didn't realise it at first. Before she came back to reality again, she was forced to re-live her experience on the battlefield within her own mind...

Clashes of steel roared through the night sky. The only light available was that of torches held by soldiers instead of shields and that of the sparks created by the clashes of blades pounding against one another. Roars of vigilance and courage only to be echoed back at the opposing sides with that of their own. It was truly a horrific place, only to mentioned in fairy tales and legends and Lilia was in the centre of it all with no way to defend herself other than the obvious. The pools of blood beneath her feet emanated a stench so nausiating, she found it hard to breathe. The one time I disliked having hightened senses... She could sense her own vision blurring before long, but it seemed her presence went unnoticed. It was probable after all, they were most likely too busy fighting and slaying to even afford to pay any sort of attention to her. I remember the rain... The rain came down so hard that night... Perhaps last night was a reminder from the old wizard himself. I have to get stronger. I owe him that much...

Before she could finish the last of the little story inside of her own mind, it faded to nothingness. She had been 'awakened' by the arrival of the Lord himself. The damp thud of his boots hitting the cobblestone as he dismounted his steed was more than enough to send a sense of fear coursing through her body. Was I really daydreaming for that long?
"My master is here. We may have to delay the breakfast for now... He must be certainly curious as to why I haven't shown up at the castle to serve him this morning." Her voice grew quiet, but definately audible as she gazed out of the window, and peered down at her master. As expected, his rich appearence was stunningly dashing, though mere clothing did not dull her opinions of him. Perhaps it is time I changed... Should I... No... Not yet...

He looked to her as she peered out the window, wondering what she must be thinking of, when a million thoughts entered his head, along the lines of "Is it me? Is it he? Is her master a she?". They went off the rails from there. One thought connected to another, like traintracks leading to flashback city. Then he arrived. At the station he didn't want to get to, at the platform he should've avoided.

Am I here? No, why would I pick here of all places, and now?

All he could see ahead of him was a boy, probably in his mid teens. He certainly looked it, as his body was out of proportion with itself; his legs were to long- he knew he still had at least a few inches of growth. Ahead of the boy, there were two adults, both women. They were discussing something. While the child had no idea, he knew what was about to happen. This was the point where he lost his family. His friends. Even his enemies.

To put into context, this boy had just finished his study. He was quite a talented lad. Being a male, these studies, naturaly, consisted of everything the ruling classes deemed their, and this was a quote now, not his words, 'female inferiors' incapable of. This mainly included negotiotiations, fighting (only basic handling, not actually fighting) and waging war, though not on a large scale as some of the more devastating conflicts that had been fought.
Anyway, when he had completed his studies, like all the men and women of house Danouran, he was entered for magical tutalage. His bane if ever there was one, he could never get the hang of it, his vocal cords despised him. Naturally, because of this, he failed. He failed catastrophicly. At least one boy failed by casting a fireball on a teacher at least than could be corrected. But not him, there was no hope for him. No future for him in Danouran. Nothing.

Thats what he quickly became. A nothing. He was quickly cut out of all house events. He was shamed quicker. Jokes circulated. From his own mother. He remembered how, shortly after his 17th birthday, he was framed for the murder of a guard. While he was spared the death penalty, He was to be forever exiledd from the house. In those early days, living on the streets, alone, he used to wish they had killed him. Not anymore. Granted, while his life wasn't exactly that of royalty, he thought it good enough. He had it better than most.

What is that sound? Hooves?

He was brought back to the real world by the snorts of a black stalion. It was a large muscular horse, as he saw when he approached the window, and looked down to see their new visitor. He held his arms behind his back, holding one arm with the other, keeping them both straight and even. He faced the window, waiting for her master to accend the stairs.

The outside world was still bustling to the brim with life as the mixture of voices and sounds added together, only to enhance the fact that this city was the most popular city in the Western Province. It was named Stormwind City, and for good reason considering the frequently bad weather occurences, despite nothing matching the strange equities of the previous night. A horse 'neighed' outside as the clattering of hooves came to a halt, and the silence that endured afterwards was truly familiar.
Merchant's stopped selling, and the children ramparting through the streets all stood, frozen in place at the sight of this one man. All of the eyes looking towards him, scanning him over as if to measure the possibility that he was here to cause trouble. As the Lord walked past the foremost of the populace outside, they all kneeled before him, sweeping hats and what-not to show their respect. At least it was better than having insults thrown at you, and the constant enslaught of hired assassins attempting to get near him. Thankfully, he was one of the more respected nobles, and his business in the city usually brought profit to the people.

In a matter of seconds, the clamping of heavy-duty boots against the cedar wood stairs became real as the lord ascended after a brief conversation with the bartender downstairs. Thud... Thud... Thud...It seemed to her as if time had slowed down, similar to an effect of a solider entering an actively detonated battlefield for the first time, but so much more quieter. Lilia's reptillian heart skipped a beat as the earlier mentioned thoughts crossed her mind once again, bringing a sense of pointless fear shivering down her flexible spine. It was now clearly evident that what was to come, was a harsh and strict abiding to her given 'rules' as the Lord outside began to steadily, yet firmly, knock on the door twicefold. Her realisation of the sound bringing her mindset back to the present situation and another set of shivers down her spine. Her snake-like eyes glowed for a second as they scanned over towards the door, biting her lower lip gently as she contemplated a few thoughts. Letting her mind process the possibilities, like she usually had.

"Open up, mercernary. I would like to converse with my servant for a moment. Please do not keep me waiting."
The Lord raised his poshly driven voice, yet a roughness ensured he was no pushover like the foremost of other nobility scattered across the city in order for the pair inside of the firelit room to hear.
"You've kept her from me long enough, don't you think?" He chuckled, trying to make a joke out of the situation and add a personal feel to his tone.

She returned her vision to the male beside her, nodding towards him as if to signal for him to open the door. A fluent blush scattered across her scaly cheeks made the gesture seem all the more innocent.