Scalliwag (Jax the Faun)

((Open to anyone, it looks long but it really isn't. Lyrics from the song Scalliwag by Gaelic Storm))

A small crowd was gathering in the market square, made up mostly of children and youths out enjoying the sunny afternoon in the market but soon older folks wandered up to see what all the fuss was about and soon a few merchants mingled into the crowd sensing an opportunity to offer their jerky and dried fruit to the spectators. At the center of it all was a rather strange looking fellow perched on the edge of the small stage with, satchel in his lap, tuning up his instrument with a soft plunka plunka plunk.

He stood then and there was a collective gasp from the small crowd as his furry legs and sweeping tail were revealed fully. He smiled with his eyes down, his fingers building up a rhythm as his knuckled thumped against the side of the mandolin, and suddenly a tune sprang to his lips,

“Come away, Come away
With the traveling show
Come away with the
Raggle-taggle gypsy oh!
We'll raggle-taggle here
We'll raggle-taggle there
Raggle up and down
Taggle everywhere.”

The children squealed with delight and began skipping around in circles as the funny man danced about the stage, the bells and bangles on his tail jangling playfully while his hooves clopped in time to the lively tune. Some of the older observers began to clap along with him and this drew even more attention.

“A roving and a running and a riding on the sea
And everywhere we go as happy as can be
All the mountains and the valleys
And the rivers and the streams
All the lovely places that you've seen in your dreams
I'll give you the heavens
The stars in the sky, every woodland creature
Every bird and butterfly.”

When the wild tune was finished Jax took a bow with a flourish and thanked the crowd most graciously as a few coppers were tossed his way. He stepped down from the stage a moved through the crowd, mandolin in hand,
“Anyone have a song they’d like to hear? Anyone? A ballad, a story, news from the south… from the sea?” The faun sidled up to a young woman and played a few notes for her as she blushed, “A song for you my dear, pray, tell me what you’d like to hear?”

When she did not answer he threw her a wink he skipped over to the gentleman that seemed to be escorting her and met his stern look with an especially shameless smirk, “Or perhaps you, good sir, have a tune I know?” he moved in closer and the young gent stiffened as the faun said close to his ear, “Or perhaps an instrument you’d like me to… BLOW!” he pulled out his flute and danced away piping as the crowd clapped and laughed and the young man’s face turned a decidedly intense shade of red.

Jax began another tune, this time on his flute and this time a much softer somber tune that held a somewhat mournful and almost eerie sound. He twisted and swayed slowly to the song as he played each heart-wrenching note. When he finished, everyone was silent for a moment out of awe before the clapping started up and he took another bow and called out over the appreciative murmur and claps, “Thank you thank you, that was called ‘The Ones Left Behind’, now then anyone else? Anyone?”

Across the city, past the heavy iron portcullis and thick wooden doors that served as the main entrance to Avengard, Orde's heavily laden wagon trundled across the large stone thoroughfare. The uneven cobblestones made his wagonwheels creak and his horses slow, but the deacon did not fret. He saw the gatehouse fast approaching, with a pair shoddily dressed, bored looking guards checking the other carts in front of him. He waited patiently as his turn arrived, stealing a glance into the back of his cart to make sure his "contraband" was still well hidden, although the clutter of weapons, tomes, bags, barrels, and sacks made it hard to see the inside in detail. Looking back he nodded to the guard and handed over a manifest written in thick scrawl, before anticipating the guard's question. The man looked like he had said his line more than a dozen times that morning.

"Good day, friend. I am a Deacon of the Vigil, staying in your city most likely a week. My accomodations have been arranged, and I will be supporting myself through donations for blessings and wardings. Here is what is in my wagon; stay vigilant."

With that short speech, the guard raised the gate wordlessly, and allowed the wagon through. Orde pressed onward, muttering as several people wandered in front of him. "Out of the way, out of the way...pay attention, fool!"

As the deacon steered through the crowded streets, he heard the faint strains of music floating through the air, and spat. Blasted minstrels and their useless "hey nonny nonny and a maid-so-fair". A waste of time, in his opinion. Arriving at the squat stone building that served as a communal base for his order, Orde hung a yellow flag with the image of a hand holding a candle on the front wall, before stabling his horses in the shed next door and beginning to unpack some essentials. As he cracked open a barrel of what was supposed to.be his food stock, he was met with a sickly, rotten smell. Thrice damned. Orde turned and removed the offending barrel from his cart, throwing it in the street for the dogs. Grumbling, he eyed his axe hanging from the wall of the wagon, before heading off towards the marketplace to buy food, soft clinks the only indicator he was not entirely unarmed.

Sitting atop the edge of a nearby roof, Hale chuckled, looking down at the marketplace and watching the faun's antics. One of his pointed ears perked, listening to the music while still paying attention to his surroundings. The elf always loved fauns. Their affiliation with nature reminded him of his old village. He leaned back onto his arms and glanced into the sky, checking the location of the sun.

"Hm. I've got time before I should go hunt " Hale thought, making sure his bow was properly affixed to his back. He stood up and stretched, stiff from remaining in one position for a long time. The elf jumped down from the rooftop, his cloak billowing around him as he gracefully landed on the ground, crouching to hold himself intact. He brushed the dirt that accumulated from the landing off his cloak and been strolling through the marketplace.

"Fresh bread!" "Great prices for great clothes!" the shopkeepers cried out, attempting to attract customers. He barely glanced at each of them, not expecting to find anything to pique his interest. A flash of light from a stand towards the edge of the marketplace caught his attention. "Pay attention, fool!" His ears twitched at the voice as he quickly jumped out of the way of a passing wagon. Hale grumbled to himself, embarrassed at having been caught off guard; by a human, no less. He turned his head, searching for the source of the previous flash of light. As he approached the stand, he realized that it was the reflection off a peculiar object. It was shaped like a waterskin, but it was made of glass. "Surely, it's of no use" he muttered. "May I see this?" Hale asked the stand owner, pointing to the object.

"Huh? Wha? Sure, whatever" he looked up from his chair sleepily. He must have been dozing off before Hale disrupted him. He picked up the glass and turned it, observing it. It seemed to be more reflective than the other glass objects at the stand and if he paid attention, he could've sworn he felt it thrumming; almost like a heartbeat. "How much for the glass waterskin?" The merchant waved him off, signaling for him to just take it. Shrugging, he put the leather strap around his shoulder and began walking back to the market square. Everyone was still gathered around the faun, clapping appreciatively.

“Thank you thank you, that was called ‘The Ones Left Behind’, now then anyone else? Anyone?” the faun asked. Curious as to just how much the faun knew, Hale decided to request one. "Do you know, The Edge of Night?"

((Lyrics from LoTR if you didn't know))

Jax’s eyes fell on the blond elf and a sad sort of smile spread on his lips, “I believe I do, indeed I do. I shall sing it just for you.” He drew a deep breath and his eyes fluttered shut as he brought his lips to the flute once more. He played a few long notes setting the tone and flicked his tail jangling the small bells like a tambourine before he began to sing, his voice almost seeming to echo,

“Home is behind
The world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow…”

The song built up some thunder and his eyes fell open again, gazing at some far off distant place that only he could see,

“To the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow
Cloud and shade
All shall fade
All shall fade…”

The faun’s voice wavered on the last word but before the sadness of the song could reach his eyes he quickly smiled, “Good choice, my friend. Lovely, lovely… anyone else have a song? I feel in the mood for some dancin’ how about you?”

Shaking with exhaustion, Nanine staggered out of the swamp leaning heavily on her carved driftwood staff. Unwilling to further endanger the lives of the reptilian Marsh Folk who had so generously given her shelter and protection, the priestess had fled to draw her accursed human pursuers away from the village in the reeds.

Stopping at the marshland edge, Nanine surveyed what lay ahead. Before her and to the east, looming up through the mist quickly burning off in the golden sunlight, the great stone walls of a city stood tall, simultaneously threatening and inviting. She had no time or energy to deliberate, and headed as quickly as she could towards a small culvert at the base of the wall. Essentially nothing more than a large drain, the stream flowed slow and deep past the thick rusty grill spanning the tunnel mouth to wind its way out into the swamp.

“In Setkareh’s name, finally, perhaps, a bit of fortune,” the priestess murmured. Nanine had no hope of the city guards allowing one as strange and completely foreign as she past the gates, so this would be her means of entry.

Stepping from the mossy bank into the water, Nanine removed her boots and slid gracefully and silently beneath the surface. Underwater she hung in place for a moment; as an amphibian she relished the sensation of cool water flowing over her skin and into her lungs—something few and far between in this strange land. Then she dove deep, swimming swiftly against the current with powerful strokes of her webbed limbs. Pain lanced through her neck and shoulder and Nanine gritted her teeth, knowing the water had washed away the makeshift poultice of mud she had applied to the long deep cut. At least she had the grim satisfaction that the human responsible was a league to the west and now utterly harmless; faced with death at his merciless hands she had no choice but to eviscerate him from groin to throat like a fish.

Just as the Marsh Folk had described, the iron grill stopped a short distance from the muddy stream bottom. With a swift flick of her webbed feet Nanine slid under it. Swimming the length of the tunnel, which demonstrated the impressive thickness of the city walls, the priestess surfaced cautiously just inside the entrance. Seeing no one about, she moved from the shallows to the bank, shaking her clothes free of water and drawing the hood of her green fishskin coat down to shield her face. The city reeked of humans and more than ever she had no desire to interact with them. Stemming the flow of hot blood—shockingly red against her pale aquamarine skin—with another handful of mud, she nervously moved towards the tumultuous noise of the city’s heart, keeping to the shadows and gripping her staff tightly.

Out of the abyss and into the teeth of a shark, she thought darkly. It went deeply against her instincts to be in such a place, but she desperately needed to find a healer: one that was not human and who was also willing to keep her presence a secret.

Orde threaded slowly through the busy streets, the weight of his battered breastplate and heavy wool coat slowing him considerably. Wiping some sweat from his scarred forehead, he opened his coat. The humid climate, so close to the unseen sea, was making him more than a bit uncomfortable, the deacon used to colder, foggier weather. However, the crowds parted slightly before him, his hat towering almost a head above most. It would be hard to miss him.

*CLANK* *CLANG*

He heard the familiar sound of metal on metal as he entered the market square, and stopped to watch the smith at his craft, nodding as the man plyed his trade, quite expertly in fact. He watched for a while before moving on, and as the clanking faded he heard the same music he had heard before, coming from the far end of the marketplace. Minstrels again. He just could not escape them.

Clearing his throat, he crossed the square towards the apothecary, and approached the wizened old man behind it. He looked half asleep, so Orde quietly browsed the herbs laid out and hanging. Since that business with the hag in the forest he was out of several key wards.

Hale nodded in approval, the song helping to relax him. While he may not have looked it, the elf was fairly distraught. Today just wasn't a good day with his flashbacks. He had to admit, he expected the faun not to have known the song. In which case, he wouldn't have been surprised. Not many do. But, Hale was happily surprised and gained a newfound respect for him. The blond elf had nothing else to do for the day, so he figured he'd just sit and watch the faun until he stopped. Looking around, he found a boulder large enough for him to sit on and headed over.

"I don't exactly have to watch him. Guess, I'll try and figure out what this peculiar thing is " he thought to himself, taking the glass object off his arm to inspect it. His pointed ears twitched and perked occasionally, taking in the sounds around him, always on alert. Hale turned the glass every which way, trying to figure out why someone would make it out of glass. Now that he was calmer, thanks to the faun, he was able to focus more on the object, and there was no doubt about what he felt earlier. It definitely was thrumming and gave off a small magical aura. Closing his eyes, he called out to his own magical abilities, trying to focus them into the object to find out what it was endowed with.

Whoever made or imbued it with its magical properties must have been extremely powerful or crafty, because Hale could not, for the life of him, break through the first protective spell. "Guess I'll just have to figure out the hard way" he mumbled to himself, chuckling a bit. He had gotten used to using his magic to help him so much that it was weird for him not to be able to rely on it.

Looking back up at the faun, he realized that people were staring at him as they walked by, giving him dirty looks. Sighing, he pulled the hood of his cloak up. Humans still weren't too accepting of non-humans like himself. If it weren't for his height and ears, he could pass as a fair-skinned human. But combined with those, there was no doubt he was an elf. He never understood the animosity humans had for magical creatures, but for now, he'd just have to deal with it. "No sense in getting upset. I'll be out of here and away from the humans soon anyways" he reminded himself, looking towards the faun to watch his performance.

The jolly faun played a few more tunes, each as haunting or lively as the first two. He recited news from the south of the war and tales sailors had passed on to him of their travels to distant lands---the fact as well as the colorful fiction embellishing it. He took his last bow sometime in the late afternoon as the crowd began dispersing and thanked the few kind patrons and people of Avengard,
“Thank you all kindly for coming and lending me your ears! If you’d like to hear more, I’ll be at the Ivory Inn west of the market!”

Jax looked around for the handsome elf that had requested the song, smiling softly to himself. Perhaps he’d see him again. What a pleasant surprise that would be! It had been a while since someone had requested that song. In fact, the last one to request that song had been an elf as well. He assumed the tune originated from their lands or perhaps the other faes. A memory of his Da singing it by the campfire under the starlight flashed before his eyes and his smile was lost.

Slinging his mandolin over his shoulder, Jax hopped down from the stage and made his way in the direction of the inn, stopping along the way to buy a few things from the stalls that were still open; some fruit, jerky, and herbs to replenish his store. He figured he’d treat himself to a warm dinner at the inn and do some more serious inventory tomorrow before moving on to the next town.

As he munched on an apple and looked around at the white-stone buildings he couldn’t help thinking this was the nicest city he had been in. Then again, looking down the alleys and the poor folks sitting at the foot of those tall buildings he thought perhaps it wasn’t the nicest. He had heard tell of the rampant slave trade that went on in the lower part of town and of course the gap between the rich and poor. “Well there’s certainly some coin to be made… perhaps I’ll stay a few days. A warm bed and cold mead couldn’t hurt for a bit.”

It was then that a scent caught his attention. It was hard to single out amongst all the humans and filth of the city but the twinge of blood was certainly there and it was close. Now his sense of smell wasn’t the best but it was certainly better than a human’s for the simple fact that his kind had always been hunters and druids. His eyes darted around until he saw a figure with a staff drifting through the shadows.

He slid into the alleyway after them, keeping a safe distance and muttering to himself softly, “…curiosity killed the cat and that’s a fact, that’s a fact to be sure, to be sure…” the one he pursued smelled different—certainly not human, something that reminded him of the sea but it was hard to tell as their scent was so well masked by humans and filth and fear--They smelled of fear and blood. Down another alley and he took a shortcut, aiming to come around the corner just as they did. He leaned against the wall, blocking their route and offered a cheeky grin, “You seem to be in a rush, a rush indeed, but tell me true: what is it that you need?”

Orde had finished shopping some time ago, replenishing his provisions and equipment from the stalls around the marketplace. Eventually, he drifted close enough to the stage, just in time to catch the strange bard on the stage prancing about and ensorcelling the people with news. The holy man drew in a sharp intake of breath when his rheumy eyes made out a pair of wicked, curled horns, and cloven hooves. The gentle sound of worn leather stretching could be heard for a second as he clenched his fist and muttered a word to himself.

"Daemon."

And so brazen. Now the vapid expressions on the townspeoples face's made sense. The daemon had cast some sort of black magic to keep them unaware of its true nature while it drank their souls through their eyes. But no Most Holy Warrior of the Vigil would be swayed by such profane spellwork, oh no. Orde casually leaned against the side of a building and tried to look inconspicuous, inasmuch as a seven foot tall, scarred, hulking man dressed in black could. He kept his attention on it while it finished, and stepped off the stage, heading towards the inn.

Drawing back as the figure stopped, almost as if the red haired thing had heard something, Orde quietly rounded a building and came upon a series of conveniently stacked crates against a store. The evening delivery would serve to did him, surely an omen of his victory. Clambering up the crates, Orde made it to the roof and peered over the edge, just in time to see Jax take off down an alley. The deacon shadowed him from the rooftops, lagging behind so as to not arouse suspicion, sorely wishing he'd brought his crossbow. Suddenly, the daemon rounded a corner and blocked a second figure's path. Orde crouched on the gutter of the roof, looking like a gargoyle in the evening gloom. Something about the second stranger's gait struck him as familiar, as if the person was unused to solid ground. Maybe a sailor?

Nanine wove her way unsteadily through the maze of city streets, swaying skittishly away from anyone who got too close to her in the crowd. Dizzied by blood loss, the harlequin colors and sounds of the city swirled nauseatingly together, overwhelmingly bright and loud. Despite the humidity the day’s heat had caused the poultice of mud on her neck to crack and flake off; what was left did nothing to staunch the bleeding. She clutched at the wound that ran diagonally from throat to shoulder in a futile effort to hold the slashed flesh together; with every inhale blood slowly oozed between her fingers. Unlike her beloved city by the Great Waters this human city lacked an organized system of signage to guide travelers; without it she had no choice but to wander aimlessly, trusting to luck and the gods to lead her to a healer.

Faith manages…faith manages…faith manages, Nanine mentally chanted. Faith mana—

A figure appeared directly in her path as she rounded a corner. Stumbling backwards to avoid colliding with it, only her staff prevented her from falling in her weakened state. Straightening up, Nanine composed herself as much as she could and from the cover of her hood inspected the strange grinning creature impertinently blocking her path. From the waist up he appeared almost human…but the rest? Why did it call to mind the domestic animals humans often kept? Something about the odd split feet and long pointed ears... Regardless, the fiery haired stranger was the first non human she had seen, and she fervently hoped he honored the same code of kinship. He seemed harmless, if cheeky, and his horns echoed the spiraling Endless Wave sacred to Setkareh, an auspicious sign.

Short of breath, Nanine answered his poetic question haltingly, “I…am a priestess of Setkareh…and I urgently… request… your assistance. Do you…know someone with the skills…to heal one such as I?”

Holding out her free hand, the normally translucent green webbing turning cloudy with fluid loss, she offered the strange hoofed being a silver shell-shaped bead as payment.

The faun took one look at the silver shell-shaped bead in that webbed hand and another closer one at his quarry as his eyes got big,

“Sea folk!?” he gasped softly to himself. Her hand, her skin, her smell—the smell of the Sea. Though she hid it well under her green scaly cloak he could see her clutching at her wound and how bad it really was, a pang hit his heart and his voice wavered, “Oh dear, my dear you’re hurt… and to think you caked it with dirt!-- Come dear, come with me. No healer I be, but a wound or two I’ve seen and that needs to be cleaned. Come, come--” he attempted to stabilize her by grabbing her wrist gently, wrapping a strong arm around her waist, and allowing her to lean on him as they walked.

He had traveled on a ship before, disguised as a human boy, and heard tales of the sea folk. He heard the sailors speak and sing of them but never before had he actually seen one. To see one of the Sea Folk (and a priestess no less!) was like watching a fairytale come true for him and it also broke his heart in a way to see such a creature, much like himself, so wounded. He was so caught up in helping the strange priestess that he failed to notice the subtle scent of the man on the rooftop.

“I’ve a room and a friend at the Inn,” he explained, “some nice hot water for the wound, some herbs, and some spirits ought to do the trick. I’ll patch you up right then let ye have a soak? Your kind likes the waters yeh?” he whispered to her as he ushered her towards the Inn. Once there, he pulled her around back and went through the kitchen entrance, pulling her with him. A busty blond girl in a dingy apron bounced up to them, her ringlets fluttering about her face, “Oh Jax! Who’s this? Are you alright?” Jax waved at her attempting to calm the young human girl,
“Fine fine, Mille. Please if you could, a friend of mine is hurt. I need some hot water and some strong spirits please. I’ve copper enough for all but I need it now, we’ll be in my room.”

The girl glanced at the stranger Jax had on his arm and nodded, “Aye, I know where Marm keeps some spirits and I’ll have some hot water for yeh in a bit.” Jax leant forward and hastily planted a kiss on the girl's cheek, “Thanks darlin’.” as he helped the Pyscenean up the stairs to his room. Soon Mille was up with a kettle of hot water, some clean rags, and a bottle of strong spirits. Jax poured some hot water on one of the rags and paused, looking the Pyscenean in the eyes, “Trust me?”

Hale sighed as he laid out on the boulder. The faun and his spectators were long gone, but he had nothing to do. The elf has led a fairly boring life as of lately. All he really ever does is hunt, eat, and sleep. It's been lonely for him since he left his village. "Perhaps" he thought, "I should find someone to travel with." He sat up, stretching his limbs, and hopped off the boulder. "But who?"

His sensitive hearing picked up a faint sound of rustling boxes, not unusual for a marketplace, but it was too far away for it to have been normal. He swiftly weaved through the crowd, headed towards the sound. He couldn't figure out what was the cause of it, not until he saw the man on the rooftop. Taking in a quick survey of the surroundings, he realized the man was stalking his own target. "What could be so important that he needs to stay hidden in this city?" Hale muttered to himself, grimacing as he caught the scent of the male. Human. He really shouldn't be one to judge, considering so many other creatures smell worse. But with the disdain from humans towards elves, he had no problem reciprocating it. He took his bow from his back, quickly surveying the area before firing three arrows in succession into a wall. He sprinted towards them and jumped, quickly using each arrow to allow him to propel himself higher up the wall before they broke. "I really should invest is better arrows...."

The elf silently ran across the rooftops, jumping from one to the next. Unfortunately, he didn't accurately judge the distance for one of them and fell short, plummeting into the alley between two buildings. The blond dove under a doorway, hiding. He knew he made noise, surely enough for the large human to have noticed. Having exposed his presence, Hale knew he had to abort his plan. After a few minutes of waiting, to ensure he wouldn't be discovered, he decided to go to the nearest inn to inquire about him.

The inn wasn't terribly full, a few stragglers around a controlled fire. They weren't a talkative bunch, though, so Hale figured he'd wait. he noticed a woman carrying a kettle and some rags, but passed it off as nothing. A resident was probably sick and needed help. Not exactly uncommon amongst humans. "If only they'd learn from us" he chuckled.

Sitting on a rather interesting piece of wooden furniture, he set his bow and quiver next to him and reclined in the wooden bench. Humans sure were a weird bunch, forcing nature's materials into whatever shape they desired. Couldn't they just learn to accept what nature has given them? He listened in on what little conversation there was, but nothing seemed particularly interesting.

The man watched silently from his perch on the rooftop, the slight breeze up above the streets blowing a few stray strings of hair in front of his face, though he dared not move in order to preserve his camouflage. Watching as the crimson haired demon stepped forward, inspecting something in the second stranger's hand. Orde strained to look closer, as the cloaked figure limped to Jax and they slowly headed away. The deacon caught a glimpse of the stranger's leg as they left, and a tiny niggling feeling began to creep over him that he had seen that particular shade of green somewhere before...

*CRASH*

The sudden noise made him peel backwards from the lip of the roof, gravel crunching under his boot as he rolled to the side and withdrew a rusty knife from under his cloak, peering around, tensed for some sort of ambush, his heart pounding steadily. After a few moments, when it seemed like there was nothing coming, he stood up, brushing the woolen coat off and crunching forward to the side of the building, when there was a tree growing. He clumsily scaled his way back down to ground level and took a minute to work out where he had ended up in relation to his base. Slowly walking down the darkening streets in the evening gloom, he turned an alley and trod upon something thin and crunchy. Bending down to pick the offending items up, Orde found himself staring at a thin stick of some sort. He snapped it in between his hands with some effort, noticing how far the wood had bent before breaking. Raising his gaze to the wall next to him, the deacon squinted and saw three short lengths of wood sticking from the wall. Working one of them free with the tip of his knife, he grunted under his breath. Arrows. And judging from the shape and design of the arrowhead, elven arrows.

"Damn...too much to hope for anonymity, it seems."
Orde sighed and left the remaining shafts in the wall, resuming his walk back home with some more haste, occasionally peeking over his shoulder and doubling back in case someone was following him. Finally, he arrived at his building, the tattered flag he had hung outside still wafting in the breeze. Working much more quickly now, he unloaded the rest of his wagon and furnished the simple, low stone building with his various accoutrements and set about arming himself. Judging from the arrows, he assumed the slavers had learned of his arrival and sent an assassin, so Deacon Orde would respond in kind. He opened his weapon chest and pulled up his coat sleeves, taking several careful minutes to affix his arrow bracers firmly to his forearms, and lining the inside of his coat with herbs, holy sigils and scrolls, and wax stoppered silver flasks of holy water. Finally, he slung his axe, Forgiveness, over his shoulder and exited, heading towards his favorite location for information gathering, the tavern...

Nanine leaned on the red haired stranger and allowed him to lead her away, so pleasantly surprised by his kind manner that a smiled tugged at her lips despite her weariness. He chatted at her as he guided her along the streets, and the priestess had to admit his suggestion of a safe, snug inn and a tub of water was exactly what she yearned for. She could just imagine the sensation of warm water streaming over her uncomfortably dry skin, washing away the choking dust and slowly soaking in…

“Thank you, that would truly be lovely,” she murmured in reply.

When they reached the inn Nanine tensed, instinctively expecting trouble and dreading the walk through the doubtlessly crowded room on the ground floor. She was immensely relieved and grateful when her rescuer instead took her around to the back and in through the kitchen where there was only an energetic human girl who called the hoofed man by the name “Jax.” The priestess watched them somewhat dazedly, vaguely confused and wondering what sort of relationship they had with each other. Adopted siblings? Lovers? It was impossible to tell, but as far as humans went the girl seemed friendly enough.

A moment later Jax was supporting her and whispering encouragement as she stumbled up the worn wooden stairs to his room. Once inside Nanine collapsed on the bed, flopping onto it gracelessly. Struggling to quell her panting and the unusually fast, weak beating of her heart, she was distantly aware that Mille entered and then left again. Realizing she was likely bleeding on the sheets, Nanine forced herself into a sitting position just as Jax approached her with a steaming wet rag.

“Trust you?” she asked, echoing his question. In her condition she had little choice, but it was more than that; she trusted the gods, and she trusted that someone who saved her in the streets would not harm her in closer quarters. The priestess deliberately met his gaze with intense, perfect calm. “Without question.”

As she spoke she unclasped her green fishskin coat and it slipped down to the bed, revealing her pale aquamarine face and the long gash dripping vivid scarlet down her throat. Jax gently dabbed at the wound and Nanine hissed softly but managed to hold still while he washed the worst of the mess away.

He was a little unnerved by her eyes, her eyes, her grey eyes like the sky before a storm but so calm and still…. he dropped his gaze and swallowed hard, unnerved too by the scent of blood again and so with gentle fingers began dabbing away at the wound, “…without question… without question…” he echoed in a nervous whisper more to himself than to the eerily beautiful amphibious lady before him. It took him a moment to find his voice again, “I… I’ve never seen one of yours before b-but heard word and tales, many tales and sails, tales and sails and tails… you haven’t a tail? Errm. Interesting.”

The faun dug around in his satchel until he found his small mending kit and the needle and thread within. He furrowed his brow as he reached for the spirits. He told Mille to start a bath, the look in his eyes hinting that she might not want to be around to watch. The human girl nodded and set about it getting water ready.

“This will sting most likely,” he warned and chanced a glance at the Pyscenean, trying to catch her eyes before slowly pouring the strong alcohol on the wound to cleanse it. He rambled on attempting to distract her from the pain with idle chatter while he worked with deft fingers, “We’ll try this, tell me about yourself. We’ll go quid pro quo if you like, tho’ an open book I be. I’ll start—my name is Jax if you didn’t catch it; Jax of the Stardancers, Jax the traveling minstrel, song weaver, seducer of sorts, and apparently part-time nurse.”

The faun tucked a stray strand of fiery red hair behind his long tapered ear and nodded in the direction of the door, “And that across the hall be Mille. She’s got a heart of gold I swear, I swear, but no one’s ever saw her worth. We were lovers for a bit, shared stories…you know she writes stories in her spare time? Imagine that! She’s one of the few humans I’ve had the pleasure of knowin’ that’s seen me as more than half goat or heh—demon spawn. Now tell me true, who are you deary? You seem a long way from home… like me.”

A few more dabs and then as a courtesy he offered her a drink from the bottle as he threaded the needle. “This will most likely sting, my dear. I’m sorry…” once he had some sort of sign from her he began sewing up the gash as quickly and delicately as possible, chewing as his lip as he worked. When it was finished he nipped the thread with his canines and looked her over,

“Any other wounds that need mending? If not, methinks the bath is nearly ready." After his new aquaintance was taken care of, Jax gathered his instruments and wandered downstairs to play for the people in the common room as he advertised. The faun sat crosslegged on a vacant bench near the fire and began strumming and tuning his stings.

Hale's ears twitched as he heard the gentle strumming emanating from a nearby guitar. He turned his head towards the noise, raising a eyebrow when he saw the faun sitting on the bench. He continued to watch him, listening as he played for the crowd when he realized just why he was there. Standing up, he grabbed his quiver and bow, relocating to sit on the bench with the faun. He didn't seem too disturbed by the elf's appearance and passed it off as simply part of the respect their kind tended to have for each other.

"There was a strange man running about the rooftops earlier" the blond muttered to the male next to him, trying not to arouse any suspicions. "Human. Large one, by the looks of it. Seemed to be taking an interest in someone. Know anything about it?" He equivocated the silence to thinking, waiting for an answer. It was a long shot that the faun would even know anything, but he decided to take a chance. After still no answer, he realized that he hadn't even introduced himself yet. As the faun finished his song, he spoke once more, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his pointed ear. "I'm Hale" he remained still, respectfully waiting, making sure that any contact was instigated by the other.

The mandolin made an awkward plunk and Jax raised an eyebrow at the elf as he mentioned the human but continued playing. When the song was finished, he nodded at the few soft claps he got and offered the elf a charming but guarded smile,

“Pleasure making yer acquaintance, Hale. And no, I wouldn’t be knowin’ anythin’ about that.” He took a long appraising glance at the elf and let out a soft sigh, “I tends to make an enemy here and there but none that’d be so bold, or as able to run about rooftops. If yer lookin’ for trouble, kindly look for it somewhere else.”

The faun shrugged and continued to tune his instrument. After a moment he added, “My name is Jax. You were the one at the square who requested that lovely song, the Edge of Night, were you not?” Whoever he was, he seemed to have good intentions but Jax felt the need to be on edge if only for the sake of his newfound friend upstairs.

Caution was always good to have and often times it was something he could with a bit more of but he saw no harm in flirting with the tall elf, perhaps with some persuasion (if Hale was of similar ‘persuasion’ that is) the elf would tell him more about the human if he knew anything else. The thought crossed his mind that maybe the human was hunting the Pyscenean. “Tell me about yourself Hale. What’s a handsome young elf doing in a city like this, eh?” Jax purred and let his gaze settle on the blond elf.

Nanine could not help but smile in kind amusement as her strange rescuer stumbled over his words. “No, the Sea People do not possess tails, however much we may resemble fish.”

She watched Jax gather his supplies, and anticipating his actions she breathed deeply, slowing her heartbeat and consciously relaxing her muscles. Though she had never had an injury serious enough to require stitching Nanine had observed members of the warrior caste make use of the healing technique. In response to Jax’s forewarning she replied calmly, “I shall endure it.”

The liquid he poured on her wound burned like fire and the priestess bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out. She was immensely glad of the distraction when Jax began chatting conversationally. The priestess laughed softly at his self description of seducer and part time nurse. “Well met then, Jax of the Stardancers, under both the worst and best of circumstances! I too have never encountered one of your kind. Perhaps we can learn from each other.”

Listening attentively, the priestess could not help but wonder at his comment about being perceived as part goat or demon offspring. Unlike Jax who had heard rumors of her people, Nanine was completely unfamiliar with his kind; she made a mental note to inquire about them more when she had recovered. When he asked about her, he was so disarming and innocently curious that she did not hesitate to answer his questions.

“I am Nanine, a Priestess of the Temple of Setkareh, Goddess of the Sea, and as you suspect I am very far from home…though closer to the sea than I was aware, based on the presence of the salt smugglers who attacked me without provocation. Their hatred of the Sea People is as infamous as their cruelty, fueled by competing with the City of Pyscae to sell salt, our main export, along the trade routes inland. I managed to escape and lost the smugglers in the marsh; as land dwellers it is unlikely they have the skills to track me across such a wet area.”

Inspecting the bottle of liquid Jax had given her, the priestess casually sniffed at the opening before drinking—and recoiled sharply in horror at the strong acrid scent of grain alcohol. Beer, and she was lucky it was: as an aquatic being smell was not her strongest sense and had it been any other form of alcohol it would have been easy for her not to realize what it was until it was too late. For the briefest of moments anger surged through her, then was quenched—Jax was unfamiliar with the customs of the religious caste and possibly also of the danger of what he had done…but if he knew the stories of her people how could he not have heard what inebriation did to them…? Nanine shuddered at the thought. Ah well, under the circumstances she would forgive him.

“Humans are repelled and attracted to the Sea People; frightened and yet curious. So many tales…that we have tails is only one of many that are false.” Nanine held the bottle out to Jax and when he grasped it she held on for a second longer, meeting his gaze with the intensity of a quiet warning. “But know also that many of the tales are true, both the ecstatically pleasant…and those that are not.”

Jax was silent as he sewed the gash across her neck closed, and Nanine felt a tiny twinge of guilt. He was kind and friendly; she sincerely hoped she had not scared him away with her outburst, however small it had been. When he was finished she gently brushed her fingertips across the stitching. It was impressively neat and the priestess thanked him profusely.

After Jax disappeared to the lower floor of the tavern Nanine shed all of her clothing except for the aquamarine glass and silver bands of her necklace. She slipped happily into the bath, sighing with relief as she submerged her entire body in water. Closing her eyes in exhausted bliss she relaxed and began to focus her meditations with a silent prayer to her patron goddess.

We are the sea, the sea is within us. We are the sea, we shed salt tears and salt blood…

"I assure you, kind sir. I mean nothing malicious. I simply inquire as to the intentions of this man." The elf held his position, wondering if the faun would offer up any possible information. The elf let his gaze wander, a few humans glancing their way. It seems it wasn't too often a magical creature were to pass through, let alone multiple ones.

“My name is Jax. You were the one at the square who requested that lovely song, the Edge of Night, were you not?” The faun caught his attention once more. Smirking, he looked back towards the male next to him. "Oh yes. I do say, you've certainly a repertoire of musical selections. Not many would recognize the song I asked, let alone know how to perform it. You did it justice" he commended him with a brief nod.

“Tell me about yourself Hale. What’s a handsome young elf doing in a city like this, eh?” Jax purred.

"Handsome?" Hale's eyebrow lifted in curiosity. He allowed himself a brief smile. A true one. Long has it been since he'd let himself show true emotions, let alone have a reason for which to smile. As far as he knew, fauns were notorious for their libidos and sexuality. What could be the harm in playing along?

Lifting a leg to cross over the other, he turned to face the faun. "Well, my dear. I was simply passing through when I heard your delectable notes. So, naturally, I had to stay and enjoy them. Little did I know they belonged to you."

"Your move" he thought, hiding a smirk.

Orde finally reached the tavern, after a journey of what felt like months, several rest breaks, a few shopping stops, a nap, and a rather involved daydream of crashing his wagon on Ye Olde Intershire Turnpath. Meeting the eye of the, for lack of a better word, bouncer, he showed his holy sigil and the man gave him no trouble, although he looked at the deacon's axe warily.

"Don't be starting trouble with that, ya hear?"

The man in black offered a curt nod, and pushed open the door with a heavy gloved hand. The tavern, dimly lit as it was, gave him only a few patches of darkness to work with, and the patrons seated at the tables would cause a stir if he wasn't subtle. Choosing a table right next to the door, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom and murmer of conversation, his bleary eyes noticed an elf in the corner. He certainly dressed like an assassin (Orde thought assassins were a type of servant that killed), and as soon as he saw who the elf was talking with, his mind was set in stone. Keeping his hat brim low over his face, he fiddled with his wrists as he waited for an opportunity.

The faun’s eyes lifted when a tall imposing man entered the tavern and followed him as he made his way to a table by the door. Other patrons glanced at the stranger but only briefly before returning to whatever they were occupied with. Even the usual bouncy tavern maids seemed to know to keep a respectful distance from him.
“Well I canna say I know the intentions of someone I’ve never met but it’s my guess if he’s runnin’ ‘cross rooftops to avoid bein’ seen,” Jax narrowed his eyes, attempting to get a better look in the dim candle light but soon gave up in favor of admiring the elf beside him, “they canna be too good.”

He did however notice the stranger’s axe and while it was not uncommon for travelers and tradesmen to carry tools or even weapons on their person, the size of the axe and what he could make of it in the poor lighting was a bit unnerving. He silently hoped the stranger would observe the golden rule of shady taverns such as this and keep to himself.

Jax noticed the shift in his body language and offered the blond elf a smile bordering on a smirk, “I’ve done quite a bit of traveling, mostly along the greater coast cities… been to sea a few times too though my true home be the deepest darkest heart of the western woods. ‘Tis where I first heard such music from me Da and the songweavers of our clan. Many elves passed through our parts long enough to dance and sing with us… as such I picked up a few of their songs.”

He waved at a girl tending a nearby table and she was soon over, “What can I get fer you, Mr. Stardancer?” asked the sultry brunette, one hand balancing a flask on a platter and the other resting on her hip, “Sumthin’ ta eat? Ale? …Or perhaps sumthin’ ta keep ya warm tonight?” the slight flush of her cheeks was not lost on him.
“Oh I’ve found plenty of warmth here by the fire for now. Just some mead m’dear. Singin’ is thirsty work.” He turned to the elf then, “Anything for you, friend? Perhaps some mead?”