Spirits of the Earth

The night was dark. Dark and windy as autumn nights tend to be... The stars were hidden by clouds, and the wind was wailing in the woods. It sounded almost like if it was howling, loudly and wildly. It was so loud that it would drown out even a pack of wolves.

One bloodied hand clenched around Aldanith's shoulder and cracked it back into place with the strength of the metal that it possessed. He cursed under his breath. It sure was a bad moment to get into a situation like this... He never thought she'd send someone after him. And he definitely didn't think that they would find him, but apparently she knew more than he supposed.

He ripped a part of his cape off and wrapped it around his right forearm. Almost all of the gauntlet that shielded that arm was gone, only several long, deep cuts on its place. The bleeding has slowed since the blades, now broken on the ground, pierced his skin, but his dark blood was still soaking through the cape. He used the rest to wipe more blood, flowing from the corner of his mouth, and sled a little lower down the wall of a backstreet building. The three that were sent after him were just corpses now, nothing more than devastated remains and a pool of blood around him.

How he was going to get out of here, that he had no idea about.

Grace walked down the street, whistling a short tune. she was doing her nightly rounds to make sure all was well in the village. La'marri was generally a peaceful place, but sometimes there were problems. It was her job to resolve them. She was turning the corner when she almost collided with a running figure. It was Stephen, one of the villages many small children. In the dim torchlight Grace could see that his eyes were streaked with tears and she could here the boyl's shortness of breath.

"Stevie what's wrong, what's going on?" Grace asked the clearly distraught child.

The boy grabbed the half-Orc woman, "Oh Grace there's a fight. With blades and everything! There was so much blood, I think somebody died!"

Grace growled. This was bad, this kind if thing almost never happened around here. She grabbed the boy by his shoulders and looked in his eyes. "Stephen, I need you to tell me. Where were they fighting and who was it? Were they strangers or were they from the village?"

The boy shook his head. "It happened behind Phil's shop in the alley. I'm not sure who it was. I... I just saw it and ran as fast as I could. I, I think they're strangers. They didn't look like anyone I know.

Grace squeezed his shoulders. "Good man, that was the right thing to do. Now, you go to Frederick, the other Peace Keeper, and you tell him what you told me. And tell him that Grace is going on ahead."

She released the boy and stepped around him, before taking off down the street at more-than-human speed. She knew the entire village like the back of her hand and barely two minutes elapsed before she was turning the corner leading into the alleyway behind Phil's shop.

The scene she was confronted with shocker her. The boy was right, there was a lot of blood. Three men lay crumpled in heaps, all of them dead judging by the amount of red coating there still forms. An elf was sitting with his back against the wall to the ship, his breath coming out in short ragged gasps. He was also covered in red and had some serious looking injuries.

Graces hurriedly pulled out her cudgel and put the weapon at ready. "Oy elf, who are you, why did you kill these men, and will you be taken into custody peacefully?" Depending on his answer, Grace might have to wound him a bit more.

((OOC: Sorry for any typos, phone posts are tough.))

"They attacked me." Aldanith replied shortly, raising his cold, hard glance at the woman who approached him. "They attacked me and tried to kill me." That was the only answer he gave her, and despite being in such a weakened state, he took a defensive stance, and refused to talk of himself.

"I'm not letting anyone take me anywhere. They attacked me and I acted in self-defense." he growled eventually, pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. His dark blood was already dripping off the tips of the metal hand's fingers, but he paid no attention neither to that, nor to the pain he caused himself by the pressure.

Grace eyed the elf coldly. "Well do you have a witness to confirm that story? Someone who saw it all go down? 'Cause for all I know you assaulted these men first."

There was an icy silence for a few moments, before a small voice called out, "I saw." It came from above them, the Grace looked up to see Philip Wellers peeking out from the window above his shop. "I was getting ready to turn in when I heard some scuffling. I looked outside my window and saw this elf run in here, followed by those three." The man pointed a finger at the corpses." He drew his sword and fought 'em off here. Wasn't the elf's fault Grace, he was defendin' himself."

The half-orc had known Phil for years, and he the honest sort. He certainly wouldn't lie to protect some stranger, for the elf was most definitely new in town. This Grace knew because she had met and remembered every single person living in the village, and this elf wasn't one of them.

Phil's testimony leant credence to the elf's claim, and it did seem unlikely that he would try to assault three clearly well-armed men. Okay, she admitted in her own head, so the elf was innocent. She still didn't like his attitude though.

She hung her cudgel from her belt, and addressed the man. "Looks like it was self-defense. Sorry about accusing you right off the bat. I believe we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Grace Haftblow, one of the Keepers of the Peace in La'marri." She gave a little bow. "It looks like you're injured. If you follow me I can bring you to a healer."

Aldanith gave her a faint nod. He felt lightheaded and sick, and trying to draw his mind off it wasn't working. He knew it was, off course, the result of a massive bleeding, something that was hard even on his body, and he had no way to stop it.

His eyes, till then staring at something on the other side of the street, turned upside down, revealing his whites, and fluttered. All of a sudden, his body sled sideways onto the ground without a warning, unconscious. He lay there in the blood, which was soaking into his clothes and white hair, appearing almost innocently peaceful if not for it.

Grace, saw the elf falling. She made a move to catch him but didn't reach him in time. She winced as the man hit the ground. Well that was unlucky. She went over to him and knelt down. She placed her hand on his neck and felt for a pulse. She felt one. Slightly. A little bit of luck for him them. She picked up the elf gingerly, supporting his back and head with one arm and putting the other under his knees.

She walked out of the alleyway carrying him like that and had made it a fair way down the street before her fellow Keeper, Frederick, ran up. "Heard there was a fight..." He only got that far before breaking out into an huge bout of laughter. "You abducting a husband there Grace? I mean he's a pretty one, I can see why you picked him, but did you at least tell his paren..."

"Frederick!" Grace shouted over the man, her normally pretty voice suddenly becoming incredibly gruff. "This is not time to be laughing. There was a fight and this man is severely wounded, not to mention the other three dead behind Phil's shop. Get some other men to help you carry bury them."

Frederick didn't have to be told twice, he knew that when Grace's voice went like that she meant business. He ran to find some men to assist him. The man gone, Grace continued her way down the road.

It took her only a few minutes to reach the nearest healer's home. The elf was lucky. It was Salia's place. She had some of the best healing magic in town. Plus she loved Grace and owed her some favors. The half-orc opened the door and brought the wounded elf inside without a moment of hesitation. "Salia!" She yelled. "We got someone hurt pretty bad!

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Came the annoyed responds from up the stares. A young woman in a nightgown came down the staircase rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I heard you clattering around out ther..." That was far as Salia got before bursting out laughing at the sight of the half-orc carrying the elf. "What happened Grace, did you steal away a husband? We've been telling you to settl..."

"He was injured in a fight!" Grace yelled, using her orc voice once again. "Why do you people keep making that joke?"

Salia knew Grace too well to be afraid of the woman. "Because dear," she said between laughs, "you're carrying him like a bride." The half-orc looked down and realized the woman was right. Her normally green face took on a very red tint.

She coughed to clear her throat. And to cover her embarrassment. "Well he was injured and this seemed like the best way to carry him. Here take a look for yourself." Grace set the elf down on Salia's kitchen table.

The healer bent over the man, finally stifling her laughter. Now she was ready to begin inspecting his injuries and healing him with her magic. "Well let's see what we have here...."

Aldanith awoke on a table, fairly confused to say the least. Some woman was bending above him and carefully taking off the scraps of his armour. He blinked, staring at her, trying to recall any memories of getting into this house, but the last thing he remembered was a big woman in the backstreet, and three corpses of Deneryn's men.

He rolled over, a groan escaping his mouth, and sled off the table. Without any idea what those two might want, they could be healers just as well as more hired killers, and he definitely wasn't willing to let anyone cut his right arm off piece after piece, too. With a thud, he landed on the floor, and scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, leaving a trail of blood behind himself.

As he reached the wall, he immediately pressed his back on it, taking a defensive stance and reaching after Frostdeath with his left arm. The metal clinked as it touched the handle, and Aldanith had the blade prepared, though still sheathed. "Who are you? What... Am I doing here?" he snarled at the women.

Grace frowned at the elf as he scrambled around. He was still clearly delirious off of pain and he stumbled around the small dining area like a drunk. Not to mention he was bleeding all over her friend's nice carpet. She sighed when he asked his question. "I told you already. I'm Grace Haftblow and you're at a healers. Did you hit your head when you fell of the table?"

She tsked at the elf, and adopted her lecturing voice. "Here we are trying to hep you and you're all suspicious. It's no wonder you have people trying to kill you. Now get onto this table so Salia here can fix you up. She has magic that can close pretty severe wounds, and I'm pretty sure that that's what you want right now."

At her words, Aldanith let go off the scimitar and sled onto the ground. The orc-resembling woman was probably right... They didn't look like killers, and even though he wasn't an easily trusting person, it wasn't likely that they had anything to do with Deneryn.

"If you try anything, I'll gut you and hang your intestines around the room." he muttered, shooting a sharp, cold glance at the two. "But I'd rather not."

He pulled his knees to his chest and embraced him with his left arm, now rid of all armour and revealing the dark metal underneath.

She watched the sad display. He was clearly in serious need of help, why didn't he just ask nicely for it? The actions of strangers always confused Grace. People from La'marri always made so much more sense than outsiders. She sighed and walked over to the mumbling wreck of an elf.

"Alright alright we won't try anything. Salia here is one of the best healers in the village and I'll bet she can fix you right up." She extended her hand to the elf. While she was reaching out her own arm she noticed that his was completely made of metal. And yet she'd seen him using it with full articulation. It was curious. Still, not the oddest thing she'd seen in the free village. The resident blacksmiths and alchemists would probably like to see it though...

She shook herself out her reverie. He was hurt and now was not the time. "So tell me," she intoned, "are you gonna take this hand and stand up or am I gonna have to carry you back to the table?"

With a faint nod, Aldanith took her hand. His fingers gripped around it, cold and hard as the metal they were made of, and pulled himself up with an unexpected strength and quickness. Maybe a bit too much, as he suddenly felt lightheaded, and stumbling on his feet he bashed into Grace.

If it would be visible on his ashen blue skin, all of them would have seen how he blushed, and immediately backed away from the half-orc. He stared at the floor, letting go off her hand and holding the edge of the wall instead.

Grace wasn't sure how to react to the elf. On one hand he was being quite annoying. On the other his reactions were pretty understandable considering someone had just tried to kill him. She sighed as he ran into her and then backed up against the wall again. Really he was being a pain.

She sighed. "Alright elf. I don't care if you want me to help you at not, but you need to get on this table so Salia can treat you."

Aldanith took a deep breath and without saying a word, he let go off the wall and slowly walked over to the table. Supporting himself with his left arm, he pulled himself up onto it, avoiding the gazes of the women.

His fingers started mechanically opening the buckles and reins that held his armour together, and battered pieces of metal fell onto the table, thudding, revealing his paled skin, stained by blood. It lacked the deeper grey-blue hue it once had, characteristic for his kind, appeared drained of its hue, crossed by a large number of scars. When he carefully remover the gauntlet on his right hand, bloodied and cut by a large number of slashes, apparently from a sword or a dagger, more metal glinted on a half of his hand.

The two women watched the elf work, though neither moved to help him. He had made quite clear that he didn't want any. As he was unbucklined his gauntlet, revealing more metal on his right hand, Salia turned to Grace and whispered: "That's a lot of metal. You sure this isn't a job for the blacksmith?"

Grace honestly couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "He's bleeding so he comes here." She replied gruffly.

Salia laughed a bit before walkin over to the table. So she had been joking thought Grace. The healer addressed the elf. "Alright now let's see those wounds. And which do you want, magic or non-magic treatment?"

"I recommend magic." Piped in Grace. "Salia's got some serious power. Fix you right up."

Salia spoke without turning around as she inspected the elf's wounds. "It's his choice Grace, let him make it."

Aldanith narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure about the effects of magic on his body, which has been through far more of it than he'd be fond of... And a lot of it dark. "I'm afraid magic might only make me worse." he spoke silently.

"My body has seen a lot of magic in its time which has changed it. I don't trust it... I wouldn't risk it." he shook his head, closing his eyes. He has taken off all of his armour already, and revealed the muscles, metal and blood that was underneath. The left arm connected straight to his shoulder, while only a much smaller part of his right hand bore the same quality, standing instead two of his fingers and a part of his hand.

"I wouldn't risk magic." he repeated.

Salia nodded. "Alright whatever works for you. Now I have to go get some things though." She turned to the half-orc and pointed at the wound on his arm. "Tie a tourniquet on that Grace. It'll take a couple minutes for me to get my things and I don't want him to bleed out on my carpet in the meantime." So saying Salia walked away to gather her supplies.

Grace opened one of the cabinets and pulled out some bandages. She knew where they were because she'd been at the healer's house enough times with scratches and bruises that Salia made Grace fix herself up. She walked over to the elf and began tying the bandage as tight as she could around his upper arm. "This will slow the bleeding." she said as she tied it, to forestall any argument.

That complete, she stepped back and admired her handiwork. Salia had yet to return, so Grace tried to make some conversation. "I don't think I caught your name. Or what you do. You mind sharing?"

"Aldanith." he replied shortly, not wincing as she tied the wraps around his shoulder to stop the blood from streaming out of the cuts any longer. Although it made his arm go numb, he was well aware that it was for his own good.

This girl was asking too many questions, and he wasn't in the mood to talk. He was sick, tired, and his patience with these two was running out. He delved into his long white hair with his left hand, covering it with more blood, which left dark crimson streaks in it, and let out a long sigh, closing his eyes.

The man didn't off anything beyond his name, and Grace took it as a sign that he didn't want to talk. Still, it was in her nature to pry...

She was about to ask some more questions when Salia returned with a needle, some thread, and a large bottle of cider. Grace decided that now was a good time to step outside. She was not so much a fan of watching people get stitched up. The needle piercing the skin and...  Nope, not for her. She rather quickly went outside.

Salia watched her go. "Oh the big chicken." the healer huffed. She turned to Aldanith and handed him the cider. "You're gonna want that." Then she brandished the needle and thread and smiled cheerily. "You're not also a chicken, right?"

Aldanith scoffed at the healer and cider. "If I wanted to get drunk, I'd go to the tavern." he snarled. "I don't need that." His cold glance sled down to his right hand, and arose to Salia's face again. "I have seen worse. I had to cut off half of my hand and run for miles... Do you think a needle would scare me?" His voice was now more cynical than hard.

"If it wasn't my right arm that needed the sewing, I would have done it alone."

Salia sighed. She hated the tough ones. They weren't any fun to tease. "Alright then let's get started." He began sewing up the largest gash with practices precision. "This won't take too long..."

From outside the healers house, Grace could almost imagine that she heard the needle sliding in and out of flesh. She shuddered. There weren't a lot of the things that got to the half-orc, but sewing up a wound was one of them. She thanked her lucky stars that she'd never needed stitches. She didn't know what she would do if she ever did.

She heard footsteps on the street, and turned to see Frederick walking towards her. "We got the bodies cleared up Grace." He reported to her once he was close enough.

"Anyone we know?" She asked him.

Frederick shook his head. "Strangers, all of 'em." He nodded towards the doorway. "How's your new elf friend?"

Grace shrugged. "Conscious, at least. He's not really in great shape but Salia is treating him. He refused magic so she's sewing him up the old-fashioned way."

Her counterpart nodded in understanding. "Ah, I see. That's why you're out here. Your wierd thing with sewing..."

"It's not weird!" she replied in a heated voice. "It's something perfectly natural to be freaked out by and I don't want to here about it from the boy who's still afraid to talk to any of the village girls other than me."

Frederick frowned. "That was a cheap-shot Grace and you know it!" The pair were about to get into one the heated arguments so common in their relationship when Salia called from inside. "I'm done Grace, you can come in now you big chicken."

The half-orc woman growled under her breath as she went back inside, Frederick following her. "Alright elf." She addressed the man sitting on the table. "I still have some questions for you."

Aldanith's frown deepened at the mention of questions. He crossed his arms on his chest, now back in his black shirt despite it being so ripped that he had to tear a part of the sleeves off, which hid the wraps he was practically covered in. "What if I'm not in the mood to talk?" he replied grimly.

He changed his pose shortly after, shifting closer to the edge of the table and letting his arms hang by his sides. Flicking one of the long strings of his hair over to stop it from falling to his eyes, he tilted his head aside, piercing Grace with an ice-cold pair of bright eyes.

The half-orc eyed the elf coldly right back. "Then you should talk anyway. We don't take kindly to killings in La'marri, even when only strangers are involved and it's in self-defense. If you have people after you then you might be endangering the citizenry. You could be a menace for all I know. It's my job to keep the peace around here and if your presence is going to disrupt it," her eyes flashed threateningly, "then I will run you out."

Salia sighed and cut in before the elf could make what was probably going to be a very irritated response. "What I think Grace s trying to say is that answering a few questions could be beneficial to all of us. We accept all kinds in the free village of La'marri and live of off principles of sharing and openness. We'd be glad to help you and take you in for as long as you need, but it would be nice to at least know a little about your circumstances."

Aldanith winged off. "I'd be leaving soon, anyway. My business is my own, and if I told you, you'd surely regret listening." he glowered. "All that is there to say is that I have no business in your town. And that makes you fortunate. If I did, you would be in trouble."

He sled off the table, slicking more of his hair back, just to have it slide around and into his face again. "I wasn't meaning to stop here, and were I not forced to, I would have already been gone. I don't need to stay." he repeated stubbornly.

Salia shook her head at the elf's statement. "Oh no, you're not going anywhere for a while. If you already fainted from blood loss once then you're going to need to relax for a time and let your humors balance themselves out. No patient of mine is going to leave half-healed and ready to keel-over." She stood in thought a moment. "I don't have room to put you up though... Grace, why don't you take him in?"

Frederick and Grace both shouted "No way!" at the same time. Grace eyed her fellow Keeper oddly for a moment, before turning to adress Salia. "I know my place has an extra room but I am not putting up wtih this," she pointed at the elf, "for the time it takes him to heal. You heard him, he wants to leave. Let him be on his way then!"

"Gladly." he growled, pinning his hair up with a piece of thread that held the cut of his shirt up till then. "I'd rather sleep on a table in an inn than sleeping in her 'extra room'. Don't think I can't take care of myself."

His strength was quickly returning, and when he walked back to the table, he was already carrying his head high, bearing his usual cold confidence. He grabbed his armour and begun putting on what was undamaged enough to be worn again, not even wincing when he closed the buckles - it didn't seem that he got sewed up not even an hour at the slightest. "Where is the closest inn?" he asked, still turning his back to them.

Grace sighed in relief. She shuddered to think about if he had wanted to stay at her place. She wouldn't have been able to refuse him, he was injured after all, but she would have hated every moment of it.

"I'll show you where the inn is." Grace told him. She turned to Frederick, "And you go back to your patrol." Both Keepers of the Peace walked outside, Grace turning one way and Frederick going another. The half-orc conspicuously didn't turn around to make sure the elf was following.

"See you tomorrow Grace!" the Frederick shouted. "Likewise!" she called back to him. She kept going, leading the way to the inn.

Aldanith followed her without a word, with steps so silent that one would have to stand right next to him to hear his boots touching the ground. He didn't want to talk, and he wasn't going to, unless she'd ask him something really unavoidable.

He didn't want to be there at the first place, and most of all, he wanted to get lost, and get rid of this woman.

It was a short walk to the inn. It wasn't a particularly long walk to anywhere in the village. She pointed at the door, over which a sign hung depicting a bear. "Here you go, the Bear's Den. You can stay here for the night, and it's supposed to be pretty cheap."

She walked over to Aldanith. "If you need anything, I'll be walking around on patrol for another couple of hours." Her eyes locked into his. "Don't need me."

So saying, the half-orc walked away from the elf, ready to conduct a search of town. She hadn't been telling the truth exactly when she'd said she was going back to patrol. She was actually planning to look to see if there were any more strangers in town. Never paid to be too careful. She'd also have to tell someone to monitor the Bear's Den for as long Aldanith was staying there. She sighed. So many things to do.

"I won't need you." Aldanith assured her. He entered the inn, and without much words ordered a room and straight several drinks into it. The offered room wasn't too big, only a table and a couple of armchairs in the lobby, and a bed with a wardrobe and some shelves in the bedroom, but it would fully suffice him.

By the time when he entered, a bottle of wine and a wooden goblet already awaited him on the table. He threw his armour onto one of the armchairs, and grabbed the bottle. His bare hand uncorked it, and he sat onto the ledge of the opened window, leading into the street. Leaning onto one of its edges with his back, and with one leg bent and the other one hanging out of the window, he stared out. It was comfortably windy, and the breeze blew his long hair out of his face as he picked the bottle up and took a large drink from it.

Someone walked under the window. Aldanith put the bottle down onto the inner side of the windowsill, and aimed the cork at the passer by. It hit its target straight in the head, and Aldanith cackled, taking another drink from the bottle. Two floors above the ground, he was practically invincible.

Frederick scratched his head. It felt like something had hit him but he couldn't tell. Then he sneezed. Man it was cold. blast it to Grace for posting him here to watch this stupid elf, he was supposed to go off duty for the night! Ah well, he'd do just about anything for Grace. Not that he'd tell her that. Frederick walked on, continuing his route around the inn.

In another part of the village, Grace was going through the items the elf's assailants had been carrying. They had all been dressed it black cloaks and leather armor, equipped with short blades, and a few other items of little note. Nothing to point to their identities or where they had come from. She gave up on this avenue of investigation and began hunting down her fellow keepers. She needed to alert each one to look out for strangers and ask them if they'd see anything odd.

She'd already found James and Nichos, neither of who had seen any strangers, and was looking for Herod when she spotted something strange. The half-Orc spotted it out of the corner of her eye, a dark figure moving across the rooftops. Heading toward the inn. Grace started running back, pulling our her cudgel as she went. It might be nothing but it never hurt to be too sure...

The night grew cold, but that didn't bother Aldanith. He sat in the window, drinking bottle after bottle, and he felt good, the sweet red wine warming him from inside and letting him forget about all. He carelessly outstretched his arm into the street and dropped one bottle out, letting it shatter on the stones into myriads of small shards.

His incredibly sharp senses, however, caught the sound of something skittering on the roof. Even with the little sobriety he had, he was still cautious. He sled off the windowsill, and snatching his armour, he hid in his wardrobe. It was exceptionally large, hiding even someone of his height without any problems.

Possessing the agility and flexibility he had, he managed to put most of his armour on in the closet without making too much noise.

The sound of footsteps reached his ears, and the wooden floor creaked.

Grace arrived at the inn and saw Frederick leaning on a wall by the door. On closer inspection, Grace found that the man was sleeping. She unceremoniously kicked him over. He awoke with a start, "huh what the hell!" He looked up at the half-Orc from the ground. What the hell Grace!?"

"You fault for sleeping bed-wetter." The man jad only stopped wetting when he was ten, and Grace never let him forget.

"I told you not to call me that!" Frederick whined indignantly.

"Whatever Freddie. Now have you seen anything odd?" The man had a dumb look on his face. "Nevermind you've probably been asleep the whole time." She brushed past him and entered the inn. "Dyliam!" She shouted, calling over the innkeeper.

The man walked over. "What's going on Grace?"

"The elf you put up for the night, which room is he in?"

"Uhm..." Dyliam thought for a second. "That's right, it's the third room down the hall-way on the second floor. Why?"

Grace barely heard his question, she was already heading up the stairs. "Thanks Dyliam." She said as she and Frederick brushed past.

She moved quietly up the stairs and down the hall, stopping at the third door. She then quite unceremoniously slammed the door open. Two black-clad figures were inside, and a third one was entering from the window. The one closest to Grace rushed her with a knife brandished but the half-Orc countered with a downwards swing of her cudgel. The blow was aimed at the man's hands, and Grace's speed and ferocity surprised the assailant. The blow connected with his wrists and he cried out in pain. His knife clattered to the floor.

The strike's follow through had brought her shoulder down in line with the assailants chest, and Grace followed up her initial attack with a shoulder-check that sent the man staggering back further into the room. She finished her chain of blows with an upswing from her weapon, but the man was more prepared this time and hopped backwards to dodge. She had stepped far enough in the room now to fit her fellow Keeper, so she yelled back, "Frederick, could use your help in here!"

Aldanith, hidden in the closet, listened to the sounds of battle from behind the wood, trying to identify who was on either side of the fighting parties. He recognized the voice of the half-orc, and the keeper... The rest must have been Deneryn's men, then.

The doors of the wardrobe were slammed open, and the dark elf leaped out, straight onto one of the dark figures before him. Bloodstorm in his hand glinted, and as he pushed the man to the floor, its blade sunk into his neck, and with a single straight cut beheaded him.

The other two stepped back at first, but upon sighting Aldanith's face, they attacked again. Those three weren't too much of a match... Definitely less than the previous ones. A single slash was all that it took to get rid of one, cleaving his head open, and a kick to the groin, followed by a stab into the chest, disposed of the other one.

Neither of them got even a chance to respond to Aldanith's lightning-fast movement.

Grace could only watched stunned as the wounded elf quickly dispatched the rest of the assailants. She heard Frederick enter, and then quickly exit the room again retching. The violence of the scene was appalling, but it was also beautiful in it's own way...

Grace quickly banished those thoughts. They haunted her sometimes, ideas like those, but they were always quickly dispelled.

She whistled long and slow. "Man, you weren't kidding about not needing help. How did those first three ever injure you?" She asked the elf.

"These three were trash." Aldanith scowled at the corpses. "The first three were far more skilled... And this time, I was prepared." His voice was calm, and so cold it sounded heartless. As if he wasn't moved by the fact that he just killed another three men - and he indeed wasn't.

He stretched his right arm and pressed it onto his chest. Brandishing the scimitars around with freshly sewed wounds was not a good idea, and it has taken its toll on him - it was possible that the stitches were torn and his wounds were opening again. Judging by the blood, seeping through the bandages, it really did happen.

"Please, get rid of the corpses. I'll take a different room." he spoke. Suddenly, his voice was tired, and he appeared as if he was just holding the pain away behind a steel-hard mask.

Grace shook her head. "Oh no, there's no way the innkeeper's gonna give you another room after this. No one will. Too dangerous." The half-orc stood in thought for a moment, considering her options. She didn't like her conclusion, but she had little choice. "You'll have to shack up in my place for the night. I won't have you putting anyone else at risk."

She walked outside the room, once again not bothering to see if Aldanith followed. She turned to Frederick who was still retching. "Gather up some stout folks and clean this up like last time."

She walked down the stairs and threw a coin at Dlyiam. There's a mess upstairs but Frederick's gonna take care of it. Sorry for the trouble."

She turned back to the stairs and yelled at Adanith, "You coming!"

Dropping down onto the bed, Aldanith coiled up on the blankets, and closed his eyes. He was too tired to leave... He didn't follow Grace, instead just tried to fall asleep in the mess around.

It wasn't as simple as it appeared - whatever side he turned to, something was uncomfortably twisted or pressed in a way that stopped him from falling asleep, despite having drunk so much wine. In the end, he simply stayed on his back, what proved to be the least painful position, and pulling his knees somewhat to his chest, he fell asleep.

Seeing that the elf wasn't behind her, Grace grumbled and went back up the stairs. She passed by Frederick as he went down them, assumably to find people to help him clean up the mess. She got up there and was going to yell at the elf when she noticed him on the bed, tossing and turning. Instead of yelling she stood watching him for what must have been sometime as he finally came to rest on his back. At that point she walked over to him. This Aldanith was clearly having a rough night. Even in sleep the man looked troubled.

Still, she couldn't leave him here in the room while the cleaning crew worked. He'd definitely wake up. Grace sighed. Picking him up would be tricky too, if he was a light sleeper. Well she did have one solution. Grace closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and sang.

It wasn't normal singing though, it was a Shaman song, one that relaxed the listener and made them drowsy. Her ability to influence people through her singing was apparently a rare and powerful trait found in only a few orc females. She and a wizard friend of hers were researching them, but it was slow going. Still, she'd figured out this one mostly on her own. It was also one of her most potent. The elf wouldn't be waking up for a while.

She concluded her song and proceeded to pick up the elf, carrying him in much the same way as when she'd first seen him unconscious. Being careful not to rock him, Grace carried Aldanith down the stairs. It was lucky that it was late and the common room was mostly empty. She walked out into the street just as Frederick was returning with several of the town's more strong-stomached men. She saw some of them begining to laugh and she hissed in a whisper, "Not a sound, any of you."

She walked past the men who were clearly trying to restrain themselves with slightly red cheeks and began going to her house. It wasn't far from the inn, and it was only a short time later when she arrived. She opened the door and brought him inside. The extra room lay open, and Grace deposited the still body of the elf onto the bed. She closed the door silently and then began making her own preparations for bed.

She awoke the next morning groggy, and had to wipe the sleep from her eyes. She threw on a pair of trousers and a shirt before going out to the front door. She opened it up and pulled in a basket with fresh eggs and milk in it. One of the local farmers left a basket everyday in repayment of a favor she'd done him. She didn't ask for it, but the man insisted and who was she to disagree with fresh eggs and milk. She started cooking breakfast, the aroma of cooking eggs filling the house.

When Aldanith woke up, he felt like pure, concentrated death. His head was throbbing, every stitch on his body was burning, and he felt like throwing up after drinking those three bottles of wine the day before. The worst of all was that he didn't remember one thing that happened after coming to the inn and settling down, and he was in a strange room, hungover and in pain.

With a long, loud groan, he stretched his arms, and right after snarled after straining the right one too much. He begun rubbing it with the metal fingers of his left, careful not to press the stitches too much or rip them, and blinked at the ceiling.

He rolled off the bed, landing on the ground with a loud thud as he knocked his left elbow into the floor, and holding onto the bed, he scrambled to his feet. His head was spinning, and it was painful with the bright light, an apparent sign that he had one drink too many... Stumbling to the door as he could, he managed to stand in the doorway. Maybe it was just another inn room.

When he pushed the door open, leaning onto the frame of the door, he found out that he definitely wasn't in the inn. This was someone's house... He cursed, delving into his hair with one hand. He appeared pale, only his eyes were bright in the dark rings that surrounded them like bottomless, hollow wells, and his long hair was a mess on his head, standing around it like a halo and falling into his face. It looked like he was eaten, chewed, and spat back out by a wyvern - like a corpse.

He moaned, blinking in the light. "Where the f*** am I?"

Grace heard the elf stumbling around. And then she heard him moan. "You're at my place." She shouted at the elf. "I told you that you couldn't stay at the inn, so I brought you here. Now come over to the kitchen. I'm making breakfast and you need to tell me how you want your eggs." After all, she couldn't let him go hungry just because she didn't like him.

"I think I'm gonna throw up. I don't want to eat." Aldanith growled, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers on the side of his head. "I just want a glass of water, I'm hungover as f***. And make it cold."

He breathed in and out, trying to pull his attention away from his discomfort by focusing on his breathing, and sled onto the floor.

"Fine, fine. A glass of water for the delicate little elf." She smiled as she grabbed a bucket and took it outside. A well was nearby and it only took her a short time to fill the bucket and return with the water. She poured a glass and of water and put it on the table before going back to cooking the eggs. Fine if he didn't want any, more for her.

Aldanith picked the glass, put down beside him, up, and slowly drank what was inside. It refreshed him a little, and cleared his mind, but otherwise, he'd need a whole bucket of that - poured onto his head. "Does this have a garden... And do you have a jug, or a bucked?" he called out, forcing himself up on his feet again.

"Bucket's by the front door and garden's out back." she shouted over her shoulder while cooking the eggs. "What'ya need  it for?"

She finished cooking the eggs as she talked and slipped the eggs onto a plate.

"A cold shower." Aldanith groaned, rubbing his eyes as he shuffled to the door to pick up the bucked, and begun walking towards where he thought the garden should be, shielding his head from the light with the bucket. "I feel like shit."

"You look like it too!" She shouted at the elf as he walked out back. She picked up her plate and walked over to the table. She set the food down and pulled out a seat so she could begin eating. She was ravenous with all that running around last night.

Aldanith stopped somewhere in the middle of the garden, and slowly picking the bucket up, the poured all the icy-cold water over himself, although the morning itself was cold, windy, and dark clouds from yesterday still hid the blue sky.

He dropped the bucket and kicked it somewhere away, sitting down in the large puddle he left in the garden. His hands hid his face, water flowing down his sharp features and pouring down his hands. It was freezing cold, but it helped wake him up...

"Can you bring me another bucket and pour it over me?" he called out through his fingers.

Grace sighed at the elf's yell. He was being such a pain, but he was so pitiable. She finished off her remaining of eggs, and then yelled back: "Sure, just give me a minute."

She went out back to pick the bucket up. The elf was sitting in the water, looking for all the world like a drowned cat. Yep, very pitiable. She lifted the bucket and brought it to the well, repeating the exercise of getting water into the wooden vessel. She brought it out back again. "Alright, stand up. I'm gonna pour this on you but after that you've got to dry off before you catch a cold."

"I can't catch one." Aldanith muttered, shakily standing up, and taking the bucket from Grace's hands. He pointed at himself. "Elf. We're immune to that." And closing his eyes again, he bent his head back, and poured the water onto his tall, lean figure. The cold water drenched his hair and clothes, sticking it to his body and dripping down, and he didn't stop until the whole bucket was empty, drinking some of the water in the process, too.

The bucket landed on the ground with a hollow thud, and Aldanith shook the water off, delving into his hair and slicking its long wisps back. Even despite such a poor state, he retained his grace, and when he glanced at Grace with his cold, hard eyes, he didn't look so pitiful anymore.

She shrugged at the elf's first words. "Learn something new ever day I guess." She watched as the fellow hosed himself down. You know, he didn't look half bad...

She shook the thoughts out of her head. He might be a pretty boy but that didn't make him any less annoying. "I'm gonna go grap you some linens to dry off with anyway. Don't want you dripping all over the floor when you come in."

The half-orc went inside looking for those linens she mentioned.

Aldanith gave her a nod, and took the wet shirt off, dropping it somewhere onto the ground, just a soaked black bundle. Even though he was half covered with wraps from yesterday, the wiry muscles underneath were still visible enough. He squeezed and shook some water out of his hair, like this reaching almost to the half of his back, and waited for Grace to bring him something to wipe the water off himself.

Grace walked back outside, having found the linens in one of her closets. She stopped cold when she got to the doorway, staring at the elf. He was really very handsome, and muscled quite nicely...

She shook her head again. This was not the time to be admiring the admittedly very pretty man. She handed him the linens. "Here, dry yourself off."

"Uh... Thanks." Aldanith muttered, taking the towels that were handed to him, and throwing one over his shoulders, and the other one onto his head, to wipe the water off his hair and face. The cold water woke him up quite well, and got rid of almost all headache from yesterdays's wine. He dug his head into the cloth, hiding his face behind it, and brushed the water off his skin, moving it onto his hair shortly after. He blinked into the dim light, and yawned.

"Yeah, now I'd sleep again." he groaned, pulling the linen over his shoulders.

Grace shrugged. "Bed's still open if you wanna sleep more." She pointed back towards the back door. "And I know you don't like answering questions Aldanith, but I gotta ask, are we gonna see more people coming after you? I want to know how much trouble I'm in exactly for putting you up."

"There shouldn't be any more," Aldanith replied, walking into the house again, leaving damp footprints on the wooden floor. "The person that's sending them should quickly realize that they won't get me easily."

He walked into his room again and sat down onto the edge of the bed, rubbing his right arm with the metal fingers of the right, and eventually begun taking the wraps off. "It's all soaked, I need to change..." he growled.

"that's good to know." She responded to his answer.

When he went back to the house, Grace followed him in. He went to the guest room with her close behind, but she didn't enter after him. Instead she stood in the door frame and watched him pick at his bandages. "Change?" Grace asked. "Change what? Your bandages, your clothes, your attitude?" She smirked at that last one.

Aldanith raised his glance, showing her the most cynical, cold pair of eyes one could imagine. "The first two." he said quietly, and looked back down at his right arm, crossed by a large number of freshly sewed wounds. On many places, the stitches appeared torn, and the cuts were opening again.

He sighed. "Could you get me some clean ones? And a needle and thread, if you have any." he asked her, hiding his arm under the cloth.

Grace felt those cold eyes on her. She suddenly remembered how this elf had killed six men last night. Still, she was not going to be afraid. When the elf pulled out his stitced-up arm, the half-Orc winced and looked away.

He asked for some things, and she nodded and said "Sure." Grace went to look for some clothes and bandages. She had a needle and thread as well, she could sew up clothing, just not people. She found one of her larger shirts and a pair of trousers in her closet, her clothes might be a little short and baggy on him, but they would fit better than most people's; she grabbed the bandages out of a cabinet; and pulled the needle and thread from another drawer.

She returned with the acquired items and handed them to Aldanith. "Here you go."

"Thank you." Aldanith took the things without giving her another look, and put everything except for the needle and thread away. "If you don't want to see something similar to yesterday, you should better leave." he warned her, and took the needle to the fingers of his left arm. On the first place where he noticed the stitches breaking, he pierced his own skin with the needle, and calmly closed the wound on the side of his wrist, without even wincing a little.

He continued in it in silence, sewing up everything that needed it with precision that was almost surprising. He was used to doing this himself - more often than not, a healer wasn't nearby, and he had to rely on himself. Bandages were a bigger problem, on the other side, and when he put down the needle, he looked up, searching for Grace. "I need another hand for this..."

Grace heard the elf's words. Yep, time to leave. She walked out of the doorway and went to sit at the kitchen table. This elf was an enigma. What was he? Able to kill men so quickly, able to sew himself up. Was he a soldier? Maybe a bounty hunter? She sighed. She didn't like mystery, but Aldanith was never exactly forthcoming.

She sat alone for a few more minutes, and then heard the elf call her. She walked back into the guest room, but immediately looked away again. The elf's sewed arm was exposed. "What'ya need?" She asked him while doing her best to avoid seeing his arm.

He picked up the bunch of bandages beside him. "I can't really do it with only one hand." he explained her plainly. "You don't need to look, I just need someone to help me hold the bandages." he added, noticing how her gaze was desperately trying to avoid that sight.

He picked one of the white wraps up and bound one edge around his hand, shortly glancing up at Grace right after. "It's not gonna take long." he assured her.

"Alright alright." She moved closer and forced herself to look. She was a grown woman and this was ridiculous! Plus, she never like appearing weak, especially not in front of Aldanith... She shook her head or the millionth time. What was happening?

She held the bandage in place for him so he could tie it properly.

Without a word, Aldanith carefully, but firmly wrapped the bandages over his arm, occasionally moving Grace's hand where it needed to be, and it really didn't take that long for him to finish. Finally, he picked up the thread and needle again, and sewed the one loose end to the rest to stop it from falling off.

"Thank you... Did you find it that disgusting in the end?" he raised a brow, teaching after the shirt and pulling it over his head.

Gracie's face was a paler shade of green than usual, but she held her breakfast in. "A bit, but I need to get over this ridiculous problem eventually. Now's a good a time as any to start."

She smiled a little shakily. "So what now? You need to rest more?"

He gave her a quick nod. "Maybe not sleep, but a rest would be good." he muttered, shaking what was left from the water in his hair into one of the cloths, and dropping down onto the pillows. He yawned and closed his eyes, delving into his hair with his hands.

"The next time I should remember not to drink after being sewn up."

Grace chuckled at his remark. "Yeah maybe that wasn't your most brilliant idea." She shrugged. "Then again, I don't really know the extent of the bad ideas you've had over your lifetime so I can't say for sure."

The half-orc looked towards the door. "Anyway, I gotta get going. There's gonna be some folks that want answers about last night." She looked back down at Aldanith, with maybe just a little tiny bit of concern. "Are you alright staying here on your own? Should I call Salia? She does make house calls."

Aldanith shook his head. "Not until after noon. Till then I'll be fine... I'm used to being alone, I don't need a carer." he assured her, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. He turned aside, and fell asleep, contrary to his expectations, withing few moments.

When he woke up again, a few hours have passed, and he felt comfortably refreshed - far better than in the morning. He yawned, and rolled over on the bed, stretching, and kicking the blanket off. Sighting the mirror he didn't notice before, he raked his hair with his fingers, and reached amid the plates of his armour, which someone put on the side table. He tied most of his long, stark white hair atop his head, letting just a few wisps hang, lining his paled face, and stuck the short, curved blade into it.

Feeling confident enough for it, he put the lower, leather layers of his armour onto the dark shirt, and walked over to the kitchen, silently despite wearing heavy boots. He searched for food, all of a sudden hungry, but instead of finding anything, he just made a lot of mess, opened all the cupboards, and finally sat behind the table with his feet on the wooden board, leaning back on his chair, eating a piece of bread. It appeared that he was completely careless about the disaster he left behind.

Grace was walking back to her house. She had just finished the rather tedious task of explaining to the innkeeper why there were three bodies in one of his rooms, explaining to several of the villages men why they had cleaned up six bodies last night, and explaining to Salia that she needed to be at Grace's house around one.

She swung a cloth bag from one arm. In it were a couple loaves of bread and some cheese. She'd picked it up while she was out, seeing how she was mostly out of food. She came into her house shouting ahead of her. "Aldanith, I've got food. Why don't you get out of bed an-" she stopped as she came into the kitchen. The elf was there, sitting at the table like he owned the place, and eating the rest of the bread she'd had in the cupboard. The kitchen was a mess, and it looked like someone had ransacked the place.

Grace put on her most sternly disapproving expression. "You know you could have waited." She held up the bag. "I was picking something up, there was no need to tear my kitchen apart."

"I was hungry." Aldanith mumbled with a shrug. "I didn't know you were picking up food." He stuffed his mouth with the rest of the bread, and stretched his arms above his head, balancing the chair on two back legs with his feet still upon the table.

"But when it's there, what did you bring? I'm still sort of hungry, you know." he added after a while wiping the breadcrumbs off his clothes, and the chair landed back on all four with a loud thud.

Grace sighed. What a slob. Her earlier impressions of a handsome elf were quite suddenly replaced with that of a messy one. Still, she said she would put him up, and that included feeding him. "I've got some bread and cheese," she replied to his question, "just give me a second."

She pulled out a couple loaves of bread and chucked one onto the table. She also put a block of cheese down, and then went to fetch a knife out of one of the open cupboards, before closing it gently. No time to start cleaning like the present. She went back to the table and stuck the knife in the cheese, before sitting down in the chair opposite the elf.

She started pulling apart her loaf into smaller pieces for eating, but she made conversation while she worked. "So what brings you to La'marri, Aldanith?" She asked him. Maybe he was in a better mood today and more willing to answer questions.

Aldanith ignored the knife she handed him, instead using the one he had in his hair till now, which was far sharper, and sliced even the hard cheese with ease. He cut a piece off the bread with the same knife, and tearing it to pieces, he slowly ate what was given to him, provocatively exposing the tip of his tongue, his slightly pointed teeth...

He ate with grace, almost passion, like a lion tearing its prey, only far slower. He didn't bother with answering her question until he finished eating what he currently had in his fingers. "Just passing through. I wasn't planning to stop here."  he shrugged, and picked up another piece of bread and cheese, piercing it with the tip of his knife, and he snapped at it in the moment when it got close enough.

Grace felt her question hanging in the air as the elf ate. She couldn't help but stare at the way he consumed his food. So much like an animal. She ate her own piece of bread, acutely feeling that her way of eating it was somehow wrong compared to his.

She shook herself out of her reverie. What was she thinking, he was a slob. Yes he was eating like an animal, and he was getting crumbs everywhere like an animal. She might not be a refined lady or anything but at least she had the manners to eat her food without sending half of it flying wherever.

Satisfied that her way of eating was actually superior to the elf's, Grace was about to tear of another piece of bread when the elf spoke. She stopped and listened to his short answer. he asked him another question. "So how long do you plan on staying?" She didn't really want him staying here longer than he had to for recovery, but she could hardly refuse him after taking him in once.

"Sta- staying?" Aldanith almost choked on his food as he broke into an almost hysterical laughter. He dropped the knife onto the table, gasping for his breath, but when he finally calmed down, he gave her just a crooked smirk and a look, full of cold, hard ridicule.

"I don't plan on staying. I'm getting my armour repaired this afternoon, and I'm leaving. I'm definitely not staying here." he scoffed. "And that's exactly what I was about to do now. I've finished."

He stood up, dusting the crumbs off his black armour, and kicking the chair back behind the table. Picking his knife up again, he licked its edges to clean them off the food, and cleaned them with his shirt, sticking it back into his hair and slowly walking back into his room, where he left the metal parts of his armour. Every move he made possessed a strange, flowing grace, as if he was swimming, not walking. Despite how hard and edged his appearance was, his movement was elegant and incredibly smooth.

"Where's the forge or blacksmith around here?" he called out, collecting his armour.

She watched the elf choke on his food. She almost made a move to help him, but he seemed to have it in hand. Really though, he didn't need to laugh or look at her like that. It had just been an innocuous question.

When the elf called back about a blacksmith, she replied, "There's one not too far from here who does quality work. I'll take you to him, meet me outside." She finished off the rest of her bread and cheese, and then went to her room to throw on her keeper uniform. It didn't have nearly as much armor on it as the elf's equipment, and she was able to put it on faster and beat him to the front door. She leaned against the wall next to it and waited for him to come out.

It took Aldanith only a short while to collect his metal armour and walk out of the house after Grace, carrying the plates of hard, dark iron, hanging from his arms by their chains and buckles. The cold wind outside blew his hair into his face, but he ignored it, glancing at Grace.

"Which way now?" he asked, and the armour in his hands clinked a little when he moved it up a little, to stop it from falling onto the ground.

"C'mon, follow me." Grace replied. She walked down the street. It wasn't more than five minutes of walking, though there was a lot of twists and turns on the way. She stopped at a building and pointed up at a sign of a hammer and an anvil. "Here you go, Derell's forge."

She nodded to the elf. "I believe that this is where we part ways then. Can't say it was a pleasure, but it was interesting, I guess." She started walking back to her house, intent on cleaning the mess the elf had left in his wake. "Good luck out there Aldanith!" She called back over her shoulder as she walked.

Aldanith stepped into the forge. "Farewell." he wished her coldly, turning towards the blacksmith inside. The man, strong and broad-shouldered, greeted him, and Aldanith only gave him an explanation as short as possible before handing him his armour to repair. Many plates were damaged, scratched and broken, and needed serious repairs, but fortunately, there was more than one blacksmith, and he had quite a load of money inside his pocket. They got to work, and Aldanith watched them with his cold eyes, leaning onto the wall.

A tall, strong figure, garbed in dark armour that didn't reveal anything except a pair of blood-red eyes, stepped into Grace's way, and grabbed the half-orc's neck. Two shorter, smaller ones peered at her from the goliath's back. "Have you seen a dark elf around here?" a deep voice growled. "Pale, white hair, dressed in black. Don't try to lie, or I'll snap your neck." 

Grace pointed to her neck and made a gagging sound, making it quite clear that that there was no way she could talk with the big man's hands around her neck. The fellow released her, though he kept a hold on her arm. His grip was strong, probably stronger even than Grace's, which was saying something. Whoever these fellows were, they weren't ordinary humans.

Grace was moderately sure they'd seen her with the elf, or they wouldn't have picked her out with such certainty. Honesty was probably the safest option. "I've seen him, I can show you where I last saw him. Follow me." The four started walking, though the man was keeping a hold of Grace's arm the entire time. As they walked, the half-orc heard the clatter of armor, a lot of it. But none of them showed any sense of encumbrance. Definitely not a group of amateurs.

She was almost positive that if she just led them to the elf they'd kill her on the spot, so she needed to do something else. Maybe she could lull them into a false sense of security. "So, uh, what do you guys want with him?" She asked, trying to sound scared and as nonthreatening as possible. Not that difficult considering she was, not afraid necessarily, but worried for sure. This was a tough situation.

"Our master wants his head." the voice growled again. "And our master shall have it." They weren't too talkative, and even though Grace led them, they made it very clear that they are the ones in charge here.

The blacksmiths repaired Aldanith's black armour faster than expected, quite obviously using magic to help in their job. The steel was still warm when Aldanith closed the buckles and chains, finally safe and secure in his gear again. He was just closing the buckles of his cape, when a dark silhouette appeared in the door. It blocked almost all light, entering through the rectangular doorway.

Aldanith wasn't stupid, and he knew far too well who this man was. Not like he'd encounter him for the first time... He reached after the handles of Bloodstorm and Frostdeath. The blacksmith behind him stepped back. The dark elf's cold eyes pierced the stranger like a spear. "She's persistent, isn't she?" he asked, his voice devoid of any emotion, but there was no answer, only silence.

"Shadow-blood." the huge man spoke again. "We can avoid the fight, and let you come without opposing. Or, you can decide for the more painful path. But we shall take you." A thud sounded on the ground as he stepped into the smithy, pushing Grace before himself.

"In your dreams..." Aldanith hissed. The sound of clashing iron screeched through the air, and like a lightning, the two long, sharp scimitars flashed in his hands.

Grace stumbled into the smithy, the big man finally releasing her arm. Apparently her strategy worked, she wasn't seen as a threat. She slipped around a nearby table, putting it between her and the three men, and creating a kind of triangle between her, Aldanith, and the door.

Clearly the elf wasn't going to go without a fight, but she couldn't leave him alone after she'd brought the men to him. Of course she couldn't fight them head-on, if they were all as strong as the big one. There was another way she could help though.

Grace began to sing. It was a song she'd figured out recently, one that increased physical power and speed. Shaman songs were interesting in that they had a certain amount of power in them, and the more people the song affected, the less power it had on each. However when concentrated on one person, the results were huge.

The wordless melody quickly picked up in volume. It seemed as if multiple voices came from the half-orc's mouth, creating an eerie harmony, and right about now Aldanith should feel about three times his usual strength coursing through him.

The three stepped into the smithy, unsheathing their own weapons - one was armed with two long, curved daggers, another had a shortsword, and the large brute pulled out a big cleaver. The would surely seem intimidating to most people, but not to Aldanith, who was equally terrifying, if not more, with his eyes burning with cold-blooded fury, and the couple of blades in his hands glinting in the faint light.

All of a sudden, one of the smaller two leaped after Aldanith, slashing after his neck with the sword. The dark elf stepped back, avoiding the blade, and with a shove of his elbow tossed his opponent into the anvil behind. The other one tried to grab him from the side, but was met with a large slash of Frostdeath in Aldanith's hand, which clinked on his helmet, and stunned him for a moment.

He leaped onto the biggest anvil he saw, taking a defensive position before the larges brute bashed into it. That was when he threw himself into the air, sending a kick at the man's face - a kick which sent his helmet flying away, and revealed a dark elf just as himself. Aldanith landed in a graceful turn between those three, quickly standing up, and preparing for the next blow.

He wasn't afraid. He was furious... And with the strength he suddenly found inside himself, he'd rip those three to pieces.

Grace did her best to stay out of the way as the four went at it. Keeping up her song and moving was a real challenge, and her ally might feel his newfound strength waxing and waning as Grace's movements picked up and slowed down. Eventually she found a corner to stuff herself in that seemed out of the way.

Aldanith had knocked the helmet off of one of the figures, revealing elvish features and pale skin. A Drow, just like her ally. That explained why they seemed to know each other somehow. If they were all dark elves, than Aldanith might be in trouble. Grace turned up the intensity of her song. It suddenly sounded as if an entire chorus had stepped into the smithy and was singing their loudest hymn. At this level the song could improve strength up to five times. Or it had when she and her friend had last tested it.

For a moment, there was nothing. No movement, no sound except for Grace's song...

And then two of the brutes jumped up to attack Aldanith, both at once. He threw himself away, out of their way, rolling on the floor and climbing back up onto his feet, while they were momentarily stunned by a move so incredibly fast, and one didn't get a chance to recover - Aldanith skewed Bloodstorm and Frostdeath right into his back, piercing the armour and spilling dark red blood upon the floor of the smithy.

The blood drove Aldanith into an even madder frenzy than before. The larger man kept back, suspiciously hiding himself, while the other one that was left kept slashing after him with his daggers. Every time they clinked on his armour, or, more often, on the blades of his scimitars, Aldanith pushed him one step back, till he was pressing him onto the wall.

A final blow was to get rid of him, to cut his head off straight and clean, but even though it hit its target with deadly precision, parting his skull, which rolled off his shoulders, from his body, it wasn't the only blow that was landed.

The largest brute hid behind Aldanith's back, and he swung his cleaver down onto him right when Aldanith killed his opponent. It missed only by the width of a hair, instead landing on the spiked pauldron on his right shoulder. He could feel the strength of the blow cracking his bone, immediately followed by excruciating pain, but instead of giving up, he turned around and kicked his opponent under the ribs, causing him to take a few steps back, and allowing Aldanith to start another rain of lightning-fast strikes, even though the pain was only getting worse and worse every time he moved his arm.

One on one, the other man didn't really stand a chance. Aldanith was faster, stronger, his blows had a better aim, and he was practically chasing his opponent around in a fey rage. Metal clinked on metal, and the cleaver hit the ground, leaved from his hands. The dark elf leaped onto his opponent, knocking him onto the floor. The blade of Bloodstorm pressed onto his neck.

All of a sudden, the brute stabbed Aldanith right into the partly exposed wrist of his right hand, holding the blade. He was forced to drop the scimitar, but instead, the metal of his right hand, now strengthened beyond comprehension, grabbed the other drow by the jaw. As he lifted his head up, a loud scream echoed between the walls of the smithy. He ripped his head out of his body, tearing his spine out, and while still partly covered in hanging veins and intestines, completely removed it from the rest of what was now just a corpse. The blood, streaming from torn blood vessels and flesh, flowed down his hand, and dripped off the spine, covering the floor in red, and mixing with Aldanith's own blood, flowing out of the wound on his arm.

He slowly stood up, shaking, and barred his teeth. A shadow appeared in the door, but upon sighting the horrific image inside, the man, which surely followed the other three, flinched and covered. Aldanith pierced him with his cold eyes, holding the head with the hanging spine high. "Tell that w***e that the Iron Hand sends her this..." he snarled, tossing the head at the figure.

Grace watched the violence crescendo, and finally come to a resolution. She dropped her song, and stared at the carnage the elf had wrought. Great, another mess to clean up. And the elf too, he was a mess again as well. Grace had seen his shoulder get hit and could observe the way he held it now. Something was broken.

She saw him chuck the head at the fellow in the doorway, who made a quick exit, and all was quiet in the smithy for a moment. She walked over to Aldanith's side. "Thought you said there weren't gonna be more of them?" she remarked up at him. She tried to keep her voice neutral, but it quivered a bit.

Grace concluded that it was because the violence was shocking, even to her, and the elf's actions had frightened her a little. Yes, it was fear that made her hands shake, not the excitement of the battle. Definitely not.

Aldanith took a deep, shaking breath. He suddenly seemed to collapse - from a proud, confident stance into a bloodied shadow. He sat down onto the nearest anvil, holding his shoulder, and pressing his wrist to his chest, staring somewhere at the floor. "I didn't think she'd send more. That's too stupid even for her... No more should come."

It was as if he only just realised that the battle had an impact on him, and the pain just kicked in, but it was bad enough to turn his stomach upside down. Whatever he did, it refused to go away, and he was losing his strength with heavy bleeding. "I might need the healer again." he spoke silently. "I hate to admit it, but it really hurts."

Grace was surprised to hear the elf's words. She didn't think he'd complain if someone had cut off his good arm. Was he opening up to her or were his wounds overcoming him?

Well now wasn't the time to worry. For the third time in two days, Grace made to scoop up the elf. "I'll take you to Salia's." she told him. "I'm warning you though, she's not gonna be happy that you undid all her hard work."

Aldanith scowled at her a little, and sled back onto the ground. "No... I can still walk. Just... Just lead me to her, I'm not fainting." he growled, clutching his right arm. He wasn't too fond of her picking him up, especially not when he was still fully conscious.

"Alright fine I won't carry you." The half-orc halted her motion to pick him up, and instead helped him to his feet. "Now come on."

She led him out of the smithy and into the street. A small crowd had gathered outside, and the murmurings among the assembled folk got louder as Grace escorted the elf outside. One of her fellow keepers ran up. "Grace, I heard there was another fight?"

Grace nodded back towards the smithy. "Yeah. It's pretty grisly in there. You're gonna want some stout folk helping clean up." The man nodded, and turned to the crowd. He started calling names to help him with the mess.

Grace kept Aldanith walking, going back to the healer's house.

Aldanith didn't give the crowd a single glance - instead, he kept his gaze glued to the ground as they walked, leaning onto Grace. He was getting dizzy and light-headed from the amount of blood he has lost, but forced himself to stay awake and conscious for all the while they spent walking to the healer's house.

He halted before the door, and gave the half-orc beside him a short glance with an untold question in his eyes.

Grace opened the door for the pair and almost had to lift Aldanith through the portal. Salia heard the noise and came downstairs. The whole scene was eerily familiar, other than the fact that the dark elf was conscious this time.

The healer sighed. "Again?" she asked.

Grace nodded. "He's in bad shape."

Salia turned to the elf. "Sit on the table let's take a look. And do you want magic this time?"

Aldanith sat onto the table in a similar manner as few days ago, and unbuckled the armour on his right arm, shoulder, and chest, keeping the rest on. "I don't want magic. I told you why not..." he growled, pressing his wrist tightly onto his chest, where it was leaving a large blood stain on his shirt. His hand has gone numb and he lost all sense in it, what made him worry...

"In circumstances which I don't want to further enclose, I got my shoulder broken, and wrist slashed open. The second thing can be a problem, I think the main vein's cut and I lost all sense in the hand." he explained the healer shortly.

The healer looked genuinely concerned. "That's gonna be tough to fix. Let me have a look at it." Salia came in close to get a better view. Sh tsked. "I just fixed you up and already your like this." She said it jokingly, but there was concern in her voice. This didn't look all that good.

She pulled off the cloth from his chest and felt the bone there. It was shattered in many pieces. This was gonna be tough. "Grace, grab me some bandages and a splint." she turned to Aldanith. "While this shoulder is setting you can't move it at all. I'm gonna have to put your arm in a splint to keep it from messing up the bone again, okay?"

"Whatever is best for it..." Aldanith muttered, avoiding the healer's gaze. There wasn't much he could do, and it was better to let her do her work, rather than blindly opposing without a reason. He tilted his head aside, staring somewhere into the distance, and tried to focus at whatever else to get his mind off the pain.

"Just be quick, alright?" he reminded the woman.

Grace went to grab the splint while Salia took a look at Aldanith's wrist. He was right, the vein was cut pretty deeply. The healer grabbed one of the unused linen's left out from last night and wrapped it around his arms. She tied it tight, tourniqueting  his arm for the second time in as many days. That slowed the bleeding down.

The half-orc came back with the sling, which Salia promptly set up for the elf's arm, to immobilize it. She also told Grace to get some needle and thread. The half-orc's stomach did a flop, but she did as she was asked, and she forced herself to sit through Salia stitching up the dark elf's wrist, and fixing the stitches on the rest of his arm. She only gagged a little bit.

Salia finished up her stitching and wiped her brow. "Okay, that's the best I can do without spells. Now you can't move that arm while the bone's setting, you risk not only upsetting that process but also removing the stitches." She looked Aldanith in his cold eyes. "I understand that you need to protect yourself, but you have to do your best to keep it still."

"Guess I'll have to stay for a few days longer..." Aldanith growled, slowly sliding off the table. He stumbled a little when his feet reached the floor, and his head was spinning, but at least he stood. "I don't like the idea of staying one bit, but I can't travel."

He wiped the blood off his left hand into the shirt, leaving another dark stain on the washed black fabric, and delved into his hair. It was messy, standing from his head in all directions, and lining his face, and he brushed it out of his eyes as he stood there, looking around himself.

Salia watched the elf with concern. "Grace," she turned to the greener-than-normal half-Orc, "take him back to your place and get him resting. That's about all I can do for now."

Grace nodded and helped Aldanith to the door, walking them back to her house and a place to rest.

While they walked, Aldanith suddenly felt strangely light-headed, and before he realized it, he was on the ground in the middle of a street. For a short moment, it seemed that he lost his conscience, but he picked himself back up shortly after, and decided to lean onto Grace a little more.

"I suppose I'll just have to sleep it off." he groaned, but it didn't sound too convincing. He  knew that he'd need more than one night of sleep to be right again.

Grace did her best to prop up the elf. He wasn't that heavy but the surges in strength and weakness in him made it difficult to support him properly. If she could have carried him it might have been easier but she figured that his pride wouldn't allow for that.

They arrived at her house, both exhausted from their respective exertions, and the half-Orc opened the door so the pair could go inside.

"Just let me sleep for a few hours..." he muttered as they came in, immediately going towards the guest room. Dropping onto the bed like a log of wood, he began taking off his armour while still laying down, but it proved difficult, as he simply couldn't reach his left gauntlet and other plates of metal on that side.

He growled, letting out a long sigh, and pushed himself up a little. "You, I need your help. I can't reach the armour."

Grace came into the guest room. It took a few minutes for the pair to get the dark-elf's armor off, as well as a bit of grunting and swearing. They finally finished the job and the half-orc took a moment to admire their work. Not much to admire though, considering how much filth, grime, and blood he was coated in. "Are you gonna want to wash off now or later?" she asked him.

Aldanith shrugged. "Does it matter? You're not gonna take this off." he replied, nodding his head towards the sling in which his arm was secured. "Besides, I don't want to go to sleep soaking wet."

He rolled over on the bed, searching for a more comfortable position, before he finally stopped turning and tossing himself, laying on his back. "No, I don't think I'm taking a bath any soon." he concluded.

Grace shrugged in return. "Alright, suit yourself. I'm gonna go out and get some things. I'll be back in a few hours, please try not to destroy the place while I'm gone, alright?" She walked out the door, but stuck her head in to get off one last comment. "And my name is Grace, not you."

Having said her part the half-orc went outside and set off. She needed some herbs and poultices, food, some more supplies. It was quite the list. Maybe she should be charging Aldanith for room and board.

Aldanith fell asleep shortly after she left, and it was a deep, soundless sleep - he could be mistaken for a statue if his chest wouldn't be rising and sinking under the covers. No dreams, no movement, only silence, and he slept like that for long hours, until dusk, when he finally awoke to the feeling of being thirsty.

Instead of calling the half-Orc, he just stared at the ceiling blankly, hoping that she's stop by, or something similar, as he wasn't too eager to get up. It was already getting dark...

Grace walked back to her house. She was carrying several more bags this time, with a wider assortment of goods than the first time she made an errand run. She walked through the door and dropped her cargo. First thing was first, she went to check on Aldanith.

She walked into the guest room and saw that his eyes were open. "How ya feeling?" she asked him.

"Bad." Aldanith growled, avoiding Grace's gaze. "It's not as bad as before - I don't feel like fainting anymore - but it still hurts like hell. And I can't feel my right hand."

He turned aside on the bed, pulling his knees closer towards his chest, and rubbed his eyes, yawning. Eventually he turned his head back to Grace and stared at her, not saying a word.

Grace watched the elf curl up in a ball. He really seemed to like that fetal position. Maybe it made him more comfortable?

It was good that he wasn't gonna collapse, but his right hand had her concerned. She was worried, what if he couldn't use it again. Would it be her fault for leading those other Drow to him?

When he started staring at her, Grace started to feel uncomfortable. What did he want? "Do you need something?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hm?" Aldanith raised a brow at her question, suddenly pulled from his thoughts. "Ah... Just some water." he muttered eventually, stretching himself into a less tense position, and letting his head slide down onto the pillow onto the side. His long white hair was spread across it, a few strands falling into his face, and without the cruel, dangerously-looking blade tied in it and the dark lines of kohl and ash that usually lined his eyes, he didn't look as menacing anymore. His face was too sharp and hard to be innocent, but he appeared young and fair, almost... Sad.

Grace nodded and left the room. She grabbed the bucket of water leftover from this morning and she was going to dump it out when she noticed her reflection in that water.
If she didn't know better she'd say that her cheeks were red. But that was impossible. The elf was handsome for sure, there was definitely a kind of feral attraction about him...

She shook her head. But it was impossible. Clearly he was dangerous and more than a little unstable. The half-Orc banished her errant thoughts and went to refill the bucket. She used the well to get fresh water and then returned to her home with her cargo. She filled a glass full and then brought it into the guest room. The whole process took about ten minutes.

"Here you go." she said, holding out the glass for him to take.

Aldanith, who has almost fallen asleep in the meantime, first pushed himself up to his elbows, and then sat up, grabbing the glass with the metal fingers of his left hand, which clinked a little at the touch. "Thanks." he murmured, holding it up by his lips, and slowly drank all that was inside.

His eyes were searching through the room for anything that might interest him. Even though he was still weak, he wasn't willing to stay in bed, and he'd do anything just to get out. He gave the glass back to Grace, and raking through his hair with his hand, he slicked a few strings out of his face, and dropped his legs down from the bed.

Grace took the glass back, and went back to the kitchen, where she dropped it on the table. She went back into the guest room, and saw the dark-elf trying to stand up. "Woah there." she said, moving to stop him from getting up. "You probably shouldn't try to stand, and especially not so fast. You're just gonna collapse again if you get up too quickly."

"I'm not. I know what I'm doing." Aldanith growled back, gently, but firmly pushing her away, and stood up. It wasn't as bad as he expected, although it was difficult not to lose balance and not to use too much energy at once.

"If you don't want me to fall, then hand me something to hold onto." he shrugged at Grace, and made a few steps forth.

"Like what?" she replied testily. She was just trying to help him, he didn't have to treat her like a nuisance. "It's not like I have a cane or anything around here."

He looked around himself for a short moment, then grabbed her shoulder with a shrug. "Seems like there's nothing else... Would you be so kind? I'm only trying to get to the kitchen, no further." he asked her.

"Uh sure, I guess." She let the elf lean on her, surprised at his politeness. She couldn't get a read on him. Every time she thought she understood him he went and did something that didn't match her perceptions. It was rather annoying.

She helped him to the kitchen, supporting his uneasy steps. When they arrived, she turned to look at Aldanith. "So what now?" she asked.

Aldanith pulled a chair from behind the table and dropped down onto it, pulling his legs up and crossing them, his left arm resting on his knee. "Do you... Do you have any food? I got quite hungry since I last ate. Just bread or something similar." His voice was silent as he spoke, looking away somewhere into the distance. Even though it was quite dark inside with the oncoming evening, he didn't have a problem with the dark, his eyes saw everything clearly in it.

In response to Aldanith's question,  Grace responded, "I've got some bread, and cheese two." She went and pulled a loaf of bread from the cupboards. She set the bread on the table with cheese. It was the same fair as breakfast, but why change a good thing. "There you go, dinner."

She sat down opposite him but made no attempt to eat. Grace wasn't all that hungry. She sighed, it was getting dark. She was going to have to go out to make her rounds soon.

Aldanith gave her a nod at the food, reaching after it and tearing small pieces off with his bare hand, which he then stuffed into his mouth. He ate slowly, in a much less provocative and wild way, almost as if he was hiding the food, but still holding as little of it as possible.

Suddenly, even though he has eaten only a little, his gaze came up to Grace. "What would you do if you could kill just by looking at someone?" he asked, completely randomly at the first sight.

The question caught Grace off guard. Where did that come from? Maybe it was Aldanith's idea of small talk.

She took a moment to compose her answer before responding. "I'd probably bind my eyes, or blind myself so I never accidentally hurt someone. What about you ALdanith? What would you do?"

"Make good use of such a rare gift. The world is evil." Aldanith uttered, still eating, piece by pice. The question probably surprised his companion, but in the end, it wasn't an ordinary one.

He pushed the plate away from himself despite having eaten only a little, not saying a word. It was already dark outside... He tilted his head aside, gazing out of the window, and watched the shadows behind.

Grace wondered just how he'd make use of that particular gift in this world he seemed to hate. She didn't really want to consider it.

The elf pushed his plate away, and Grace picked it up. She put it down on a counter and started cleaning up the kitchen. She'd never gotten a chance to fix the mess Aldanith had made and this seemed like a good a time as any.

She asked him a question as she worked. "Aldanith, do you regret anything?" His question had been out of nowhere, Grace considered it only fair that her's was random as well. He probably wouldn't answer, but he seemed to be in a particularly communicative mood. Maybe he'd respond.

"A lot of things." he replied darkly, tilting his head aside. "Do you?" he asked in return. A strange conversation, but not that he'd mind.

She shrugged as she moved about the kitchen, closing cabinets and putting things away. "Not all that much, but I probably haven't lived as long as you. Elves just keep going if old Likial is any example. seven-hundred years and still fit as an ox." she laughed. "How about you Aldanith, how old are you?"

His thin lips spread into a grin, but it was bitter and humourless. "Three hundreds and seventeen." he spoke silently. "And yes, it's true. We're immortal, by natural means surely. I haven't aged a day for three centuries."  He watched her close the cabinets and put away all that he's tossed around, studying every move she made.

Grace shook her head at the figure. It was a staggering number of years. She tried to blank the idea of that much time out of her head and instead focused on keeping the conversation going. "Wait, so you've looked exactly the same for three-hundred years?"

"Except for the fact that three hundred years ago I had a left arm and half of my right hand still from bone and flesh, yeah. Physically, my body didn't age, all changes I did myself." he explained her calmly, as if something like that wouldn't be strange or unnatural by the slightest.

"That is how we live. Mortals are surprising with their ageing and diseases..."

Grace harrumphed. "Well excuse me for being mortal. We can't all live forever you know." She went on cleaning while she thought about it for a while.

Eventually she commented, almost as if talking to herself, "Wow, living forever, that sounds absolutely," she paused for a moment and furrowed her brow, "terrible. I  couldn't imagine the boredom, the solitude, the loss." She sighed, and looked at Aldanith. "Must be tough."

Aldanith raised a brow. "Terrible? It's absolutely amazing... You can play games that last decades... And never get bored because you have no borders. But what solitude and loss are you talking about? There's no solitude and loss, not as far as I know..." He frowned a little at the last sentence. What loss could there be in immortality? Losers are those that are dying after mere seventy, sixty years...

Grace shrugged. "Well you do have more experience with the whole immortality thing. Still, to me it's just the idea of knowing that someone is going to die before you. To see them grow old and perish while you remain completely unchanged must be a sad thing. I mean, I guess there are other elves, but when you're stuck spending an eternity with the same people I'd assume that you start to wear on each other's nerves." She shook her head. "Nope, I just couldn't imagine having to live through that many good-byes. It would tear me apart."

Aldanith just stared at her with wide eyes. "That isn't something I would have encountered before. Solitude is a privilege... To me, it is a birthright. Not something that would terrify me. And if you never grow close to someone, you can't be sorry for losing them." His voice grew hard as he spoke, and his gaze shifted from her to something in the distance.

"No, I haven't encountered that before."

Grace nodded. "I guess that makes sense, but that's what I meant when I said it's lonely. Solitude is a difficult thing." She laughed. "Then again, maybe you're just stronger than me. Don't need anyone to support you."

"Company is only a nuisance." Aldanith said, only a little louder than a whisper. He observed his reflection in the dark metal on the back of his hand, the light hair, cold eyes and sharp features, wondering how much he has changed...

A lot. Fifteen years have passed, and he hardly recognized himself. He has gone pale, thin, his cheeks were slightly sinking in under the tall cheekbones, and his nose and chin appeared even sharper than before, all framed by snow-white hair. All that hasn't changed were his eyes... The same pair of bright, glacier blue circles was staring at him, just as sharp, hard, and emotionless as they always have been.

Grace frowned at his words. "You seem like the kind that views everything as a nuisance. Do you have any love for anything Aldanith?" She finished her cleaning even as she asked the question, and went to sit back down opposite of the dark elf.

"Oh, I sure do." Aldanith narrowed his eyes, further studying his reflection. His thin lips spread into a confident, but cold smile, seeming almost mad when the words that followed left them.

"A love for freedom, for battle, and for... Death." His voice was sharp, terrifyingly cold as he said something so controversial and dark, but his face bore no sign of shame about it, not even a hint of any morals, or feelings whatsoever.

Grace shook her head. Those weren't exactly healthy things to love. Sure, sometimes a brawl could be fun or a bit of gore interesting...

She knocked herself away from those thoughts, and did her best I ignore them. Something about the dark elf brought out her more, violent half.

She decided to focus on the positive thing that Aldanith loved. "So you love freedom. Freedom from what Aldanith?"

"Freedom to do whatever the f*** I want. Not being bound by stupid laws and restrictions..." he confessed to her, slightly bending his head back and stretching what he could on the chair.

"Maybe you are right, and everything is a nuisance to me. If boundaries are a nuisance, then yes." he shrugged. His hand thudded as he dropped it onto the table, drawing ornaments into the wood with his fingertips, leaving shallow scratches on the surface of the table.

Grace shook her head in disagreement. "I guess that's a fundamental difference between you and I." She looked Aldanith in the eyes. "I work to protect laws and boundaries, to protect the people who get hurt by that kind of freedom. And could you please not do that, you're damaging my table."

"Table?" Aldanith glanced down at the pattern he has already scratched into the board, and nodded. "Ah, you mean that." He shrugged, and let it be.

"Sometimes it's difficult to realize what strength it has..." he uttered idly after a while.

Grace nodded in understanding. "Strength is hard to quantify. It can be physical, or emotional, magical, or intellectual." She laughed. "I've seen it all in La'marri."

She set her hands on the table, back down and palms open. She looked down at them as she spoke. "Sometimes it's hard to know my own strength." She spoke quietly. "I can't count the number of times I've wrecked something."

"This is different." Aldanith tapped the table, the metal thudding softly on the wood. "I can control the strength of what is bone and flesh perfectly, but this is slightly different. It has the strength to bend and tear iron. It isn't so simple to always realize what destructive potential it has."

He tilted his head aside. "I suppose it will be different after a few decades, I might just not have it for enough time to get used to it."

Grace shook her head at the thought of decades to spend mastering limb. "I guess when you have immortality you have the time to master yourself. I'm only twenty-six, so I'm still figuring it out. I guess having metal stuck on your body makes it harder though. What happened to cause that anyway?"

Aldanith frowned a little at her question. He delved into his hair, bending his head back slowly, and sighed.

"All you need to know is that it was caused by the person that's sending those killers after me. It's not a pretty story, and you need a hell of a strong stomach for it." he admitted eventually.

Grace shook her head. She didn't really want to hear a violent story right about now. "Alright then, I don't need to know." She thought about what to say next, and decided that it would be best to change the topic. "How about something else then. What are you doing right now. Do you have any goals."

"Off course." Aldanith nodded. The same devilish grin as before appeared on his lips. "Hunt that b**** down and rip her to pieces alive. Strangle her with her guts. Make her bite into her beating heart..." He laughed darkly, stroking his lips with his fingertips.

"Other than that, no. My main goal is to get her dead."

Grace shook her head. And turned a little pale at his imaginative words. "Not what you want to do immediately. I mean your future aspirations. Do you have any goal beyond getting your revenge on the most recent person to attack you?"

For a moment, all she got out of Aldanith was a blank stare, but the dark elf eventually shook his head, and shrugged. "No. None." he replied shortly.

That wasn't something he'd think about too often. He never lived for tomorrow... And never thought about what it may bring. Only now it struck him that he actually didn't have any idea what to do after he'd kill Deneryn.

That was a sad answer. Not having any goals, anything you were trying to do in life. But then again, maybe that was the right of someone who was immortal.

"I guess when you have all the time in the world there's no need to have something you want to do. You can just go around forever. No need to budget your time or to focus on something." She laughed. "You know, that's a pretty big difference between elves and the rest of us. The fae can exist simply to exist while mortals need some type of goal to go on, or they just stop."

"It's... Hollow." he uttered silently. He never thought of what might come when his current goal will be fulfilled... Before, he had a sole purpose - to steal and rob and hoard gold and jewels. It was fulfilling back then, but now, it ceased to satisfy him.

"But I think I'll figure something out once she's dead." he concluded after a while. "Who knows if I'll be still alive then."

Grace was doubtful. "If those three guys couldn't stop you why would she be able to? Is she very powerful or something? Or does she have a lot more men under her control like those guys you killed?"

She was genuinely curious. She understood why Aldanith had to go after her. If she was willing to send that many men to catch him then she wasn't going to stop anytime soon. She even approved of the action, since this woman was obviously endangering anyone around the Aldanith, namely the people of the village. Still, if she made the dark elf nervous than how strong was she?

He winged off. "She's either got a whole army of them, or a keep full of gold to pay mercenaries with... She's guarded very well, and she isn't weak, either. But she's a mad maniac." he snarled. Deneryn was obsessed with him, especially with killing him, and he refused to admit the reason why, he refused to believe it...

She said she bore him a son, but that couldn't be true.

Grace's eyes widened at Aldanith's description of the woman's defenses. A whole army of those Drow, she didn't even want to consider it.

"Why does she hate you so much?" Grace asked. "And what are you gonna do" Sounds like you'll get massacred if you just go straight at her."

"What she hates me for is a dark tale. A lot of violence and things that aren't pretty." Aldanith answered bleakly. "What am I going to do is very simple... Find her, and get her when she's not looking. I'm not called Shadow-blood for nothing."

Grace scoffed. "Okay you catch her when she's not looking, but what about her army of thugs?"

Wait, why was she asking all this. It's not like she was going to help or anything. Not to mention she was hopelessly out of her league here. Still, she couldn't have Aldanith run off on a suicide mission. She'd feel bad.

"They'd never even see me..." Aldanith cackled madly. There was something odd about his expression, and all of a sudden, his form seemed to flicker and fade, becoming nothing but an indistinct shadow.

Suddenly, a sharp pain struck him - he overused his magic, which took too much of his energy, and he returned back into his usual self in an instant, gasping for breath and bending above the table, fingers clenched around its edge, blankly staring somewhere into the distance with his teeth clenched.

Grace's eyes widened as Aldanith's form seemed to blur and disappear. It was an impressive display of magical ability. Right up until he reappeared looking like he was in a lot of pain. She quickly got up and moved to his side. "Geez, what are you doing? You could have just told me about your power instead of hurting yourself to show it to me."

"Argh... I didn't..." Aldanith groaned through his gritted teeth between a few short breaths, "Didn't think it... It would..."  He managed to straighten himself on the chair and finally take a deep breath, what immediately brought him ease. He didn't think he was so weak that even something as simple as fading into the shadows would cause him serious trouble like this, but it apparently did.

He kept gasping for air, eventually catching his breath, even though a little of his own blood streamed onto his lips from his nose, and calmed down after a while. "You're right... I shouldn't have... Done this."

Grace was worried. He he was in bad shape, and she felt guilty that she couldn't help. Except, couldn't she?

Recently she'd learned a song that seemed to fix minor wounds and decrease the pain from bigger ones, but she hadn't had a good chance to test it. Still, Aldanith looked like he was in really bad shape...

Oh well, no time like the present. She stepped back from the Drow. "Aldanith, I'm gonna try something that might lessen the pain a bit. Please tell me if this helps." She took in a deep breath and started singing. The melody was light and soothing, and it somehow comprised of a three-part harmony arising from one person's mouth. If the song worked right, it would soothe the elf's wounds and relax him as well.

Something strange about the song seemed to fix and heal what overuse of magic messed up and harmed in him, and even subdued the pain from his real wounds. Aldanith was really thankful for that, as he finally calmed down completely, and felt even better than when he woke up.

"Thanks..." he muttered, wiping the blood from his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "Worked well. It wasn't too clever to strain myself right now." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "It would be better if I didn't try any magic for the next few days..."

Grace smiled, glad to have been of some help. It was nice to have praise from this man who clearly gave it so sparingly.

His next words had her nodding. "Yeah if using magic is gonna leave you in this state than you should probably hold off. You should rest and recuperate. And speaking of rest, isn't it about time you got some more sleep? It'll be easier while you're in less pain."

"I've been thinking about it, too." Aldanith nodded, and proceeded to stand up, holding onto the table while he made a few slow steps towards the guest room. It was still difficult to even walk, as he was incredibly tired, so tired that he'd fall asleep right in the moment he'd touch a pillow, but he forced himself to stumble forth and get into the room, holding onto whatever was nearby.

He stopped in the doorway, leaning onto the frame of the door, and glanced over his shoulder, but remained silent.

Grace watched silently as Aldanith got up ad tried to walk to the guest room. Really, was he so averse to asking for help?

He got as far as the doorframe before turning to look back at her. She sighed. Prideful elf. She stood up form her seat at the table and went to help the Drow. She put her arm under one of his shoulders so he could walk to the bed. "Would it kill you to ask for help?" she asked him as she tried to maneuver him to the bed.

"Yes, it would..." Aldanith grumbled when she helped him get straight to the bed, but he was secretly thankful for it - it was far easier than getting into the bed alone.

He dropped onto the covers, rolled over, and buried himself in the blanket. It was time to sleep, and he really was tired... He yawned. "Good night." he muttered at Grace before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

Grace watched the elf fall asleep. She was surprised when he wished her a good night. She was about to comment when she noticed that he was already gone. He must have been exhausted.

Suddenly she found herself yawning. She was pretty tired too. The half-orc left the guest room and crossed the hallway to her bedroom. She quickly prepped for bed and then slipped in under the covers. She went through the events of the busy day in her head, but she only got half-way through before she too was drifting off to sleep.

It was raining. It was raining like a waterfall, heavy clouds hid the sun and let endless streams of water rain upon the world, as if to wash away all dirt and dust that has covered it. The raindrops were hitting the glass of the windows, flowing down the transparent panels, one by one reaching the ground. That was how it rained when Aldanith woke up, late in the morning.

It was a relief to find out that he felt far better than the day before - stronger, less tired, and even a quite large deal of the pain has gone. He yawned, rolling over on the bed, but as he kicked the blanket off, he realized how cold it was, and immediately pulled it back.

After another while, he sled off the bed. His hand clenched around the blanket and pulled it over his shoulders, holding it like a cape that trailed behind him when he stepped to the window and looked out.

In complete silence, he kept watching the rain.

Grace beat Aldanith to wakefulness again, but only barely and only becaus he slept in so late. She herself woke up much later than usual, but she chalked it up to yesterday's eventfulness. It was a good thing that he had done some shopping last night because the rain was really coming down. It would prevent her farmer friend from bringing his usual basket.

She slowly made her way out of bed and got ready for the morning. Once she completed her preparations, she moved to the kitchen, where she started cooking some of the food she bought last night. She'd splurged a bit and bought some ham to make up at breakfast. It wasn't like he was trying to impress her guest or anything like that, just that she wanted some ham today. That was all. The smell of cooking meat wafted through the house.

Aldanith's keen ears noticed the sound of Grace's footsteps and clinking dishes as she prepared the food, as he suspected, what was eventually confirmed by the smell of ham. Ham... He was actually quite hungry, as he realized.

Slowly, but as silently as a shadow, he walked over into the corridor and into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway, where he appeared like a ghost without making a sound, almost completely covered by the blanket, pinned on his shoulder by his metal hand as if it was a grotesque brooch.

G'morning," he yawned.

The elf's words made Grace start a little bit. "Gods, don't do that Aldanith, sneaking up on me like that. It's like you're a spirit or something." She turned to face him as she spoke, and when she saw him she had to stifle a little laugh. "You look like a spirit too, dressed like that."

It was true, the blanket he had wrapped around him and his long white hair gave him a spectral kind of look. The effect was a little bit eerie, and Grace might even have been afraid if she didn't already know the apparition haunting her home.

"Anyway, good morning to you too. Want breakfast?"

He cackled at her words, but at the mention of breakfast nodded hungrily. "Sure I do, I'd eat even my armour, considering how hungry I am." he replied, still slightly grinning, and sat down by the table.

"But you know what they say about old habits..." he shrugged. "I walk silently because I have to. I'm needed to be sneaky... After all I'm an assassin." He laughed at the beginning, but shortly after realised his mistake.

"F***. I shouldn't have said that..." he groaned, smacking his head.

Grace almost didn't notice the elf's slip up, so focused she was on her cooking, but Aldanith's reaction made her refocus on what he had said earlier... An assassin. The word sat heavily in her mind for a few moments, before it exploded intensely from her mouth.

"An assassin!" Grace shouted irately. "You're a killer! Oh why am I surprised. I should have known that you were no good." She grabbed a nearby pan and began advancing on the elf. "You are leaving this house now! I can't arrest you when you haven't hurt anyone in La'marri, but I'm not having a contract killer in my house for a moment longer!"

Her emotions had gotten the better of her, and her voice had turned to the more guttural orcish tone she used whenever she was truly angry. Her temper had broken and she was not about to be placated. Her normally green skin was now tinged with an angry red and her expression was livid.

"I'm a f***ing drow! What the f*** did you expect me to be? Do you think someone'd let me work on a farm or what?" Aldanith shouted back, quickly standing up from the chair. He kicked it back under the table and backed up towards the door.

"Even if I'm out of business for a few years now. Do you think there's some other job for someone like me, to do something else than being a mercenary? If I wanted you dead... Anyone around dead... It could have been, but I'm not killing anyone in here." he tried to be reasonable, but rage and surprise were taking over him.

"And... And if you make one more step at me, I'll kill you. It won't do me any good, maybe it will hurt me, but I'll do it if I have to." he growled. "I'm not staying, but you stay where you are."

Truth be told, Grace understood somewhere in her head that the dark elf wasn't a nice man. First of all he was a dark elf, but that notwithstanding. She knew it, but if only it had stayed under wraps, if she just didn't have to hear about it from his mouth. Still, it had been said, and Grace couldn't be around him now. Her sense of justice was too strong for her to stay with a man she knew killed people for money.

His words about killing her hurt Grace, in part because she knew he could follow through on his promise and there would be nothing she could do about it. She was angry, infuriated even, but she had enough sense left in her to stop at the drow's warning words. "Go then, get out of here!" she shouted at him. She flung the pan at him, though she purposely aimed far to his right so it'd have no chance of hitting him.

"And I'm going! I'm tired of you judging bastards!" Aldanith shouted back, turning on his heel and disappearing in the guest room. He grabbed his armour, though it seemed more than heavy to him now, and in a haste put the plates of metal back onto himself, despite them being damaged and virtually impossible to buckle on his right arm.

Having to strain himself like this wasn't pleasant. Even though it wasn't any unfamiliar experience to him, it still hurt, and he couldn't stop hot, angry tears from streaming from his eyes. He didn't want to stay where he isn't wanted, it wasn't his choice... After all, there's still the inn. Hopefully at least that could be a shelter for the few days he needs to stay.

He appeared in the corridor again, with his armour loosely hanging from his thin figure. "I never wanted to stay. I could have known you'll go mad at some point, you're just like I thought. Just like everyone else." he snarled through his gritted teeth at Grace.

She responded to anger with anger, though to be fair she'd been angry first. The whole situation was her fault and that only fed her rage.

"Well what am I supposed to do!?" she shouted back at him. "Accept that you killed people for money!? You can say it's in the past, but do you regret what you've done at all Aldanith!? Have you tried to be something else!?"

She saw that he was crying, and guilt was added to the maelstrom of emotions she was experiencing. Anger, fear, sadness, guilt, betrayal, disappointment, and self-loathing all combined until the half-orc didn't know what she was feeling anymore. Suddenly, she was crying too, hot tears came to her eyes, prompted by what emotion she didn't know.

"What do you know, if I tried or not?" Aldanith snapped back, opening the door. He was enraged that he was unprepared, disgusted how pathetic she was, and most of all angry that he got to this situation in the first place.

He should have known that she'd be a backstabber just like everyone else... Shooting one last glance over his shoulder, he threw the door open and stumbled out into the storm.

Cold rain threw gallons upon gallons of water down on him, sticking his hair to the sides of his face, flowing down his armour, over and underneath it, and he was soaked in a few moments. He shook some water off his head and stepped forth, slowly walking towards the inn. The weight of his gear was pulling him down, and he was tired, but his pride didn't let him show any pain, any rage.

"What was I supposed to do!" she shouted at the elf as he left into the storm. What could she have done to avoid this. Maybe nothing, she realized. Maybe her and the elf were just not mutually compatible. Their values were too different and they saw the world in completely opposite ways.

That thought sustained her, and she wiped her tears on her sleeve. She went to close the door Aldanith had left open, and then sat back at the table. What could she have done? Sometimes things just had to end, and sometimes those endings were painful. That's just the way life went. She just had to keep telling herself that...

Where was he even going? There wasn't a point in staying in this town... But he couldn't go further, he'd most likely collapse on the road, if he tried. He clenched his teeth and kept walking.

It always ended the same way...

He was getting through the streets only slowly, both the rain and his own lack of strength not helping him too much. But this was how it always was, he was alone... Something on the ground made him trip and fall onto the road with a loud thud and clank of his armour. He cursed under his breath, and picked himself up.

Pathetic. Completely desperate, to stumble through the streets like this.

Grace ate her now-cold breakfast in silence. Her house seemed eerily quiet without the obnoxious elf around. More than once she caught herself thinking that she'd been to harsh on him, but she reminded herself each time that he was a killer and a scoundrel.

Still, he was out there alone, in the rain wearing only his armor, with killers on his tail. Was it fair to leave him out there alone. Could she call it just to sit in her home and leave him be. She struggled internally for what seemed like hours before making up her mind.

She rose abruptly from her chair, too abruptly is seemed as she knocked it over and rattled the plates on the table, but she cared little at this point. She went to one of her closets and pulled from it two water-resistant cloaks. She wrapped one of them tightly around herself before heading out the front door into the pounding rain.

The deluge had left the dirt roads muddy, and it was easy to spot Aldanith's armored bootprints in the ground. She followed them with grim determination. She would apologize to the elf, and at least give him the cloak. She could do that much.

Passing through the streets by memory, Aldanith finally found the inn, and slipped through its creaking door into the safety of the building. He was leaving muddy, wet footprints on the wooden floor as he walked, and everyone around gave him disapproving, suspicious looks - but there was a hint of fear in them, too. Even though he appeared haggard and tired, and was dripping with water, his tall, sharp figure, and the couple of scimitars on his back made for an intimidating and dangerous look, especially to those who have never had the pleasure to meet a dark elf before.

As he stopped in front of the bartender, the man frowned at him from underneath a couple of thick, bushy brows, and stopped wiping the counter. "What do you want?" he glowered.
"A room." Aldanith replied with an even smaller amount of sympathy, sticking his chin out. The tavern keep raised a brow, and Aldanith's response was only his pouch, suddenly appearing atop the counter with a loud thud and clink of the coins inside.
"Three silver for a night," was the answer. The metal clinked again as Aldanith picked a few coins from the pouch, keeping his eyes on the man. His large hand took the coins, and briefly touched the metal of Aldanith's fingers.

The expression of the man immediately turned into a slightly horrified one, while a dark smirk spread through Aldanith's lips. "That's right..." he whispered.
"Take the fourth door to the left as you go through up the stairs on the first floor..." the innkeeper muttered, and the drow turned around on his heel, walking up the stairs and into the room that has been given to him. It was very similar to the one he first stayed in, only a little bigger, and he immediately threw all his soaked armour onto one armchair, dropping onto the bed like dead. He almost fell asleep, till a loud knock on the window woke him up.

With a groan, he sled off the bed, and stepped towards the sound, which kept repeating. It was a large black hawk perched on the windowsill, with a scroll tied to himself. Aldanith frowned a little upon sighting it, but opened the window and took the message. The bird gave him a loud squawk, and took off again.

He opened and unraveled the scroll, immediately recognizing the narrow, tilted handwriting on its surface, which made him furrow his brows even more, and snarl at the letter like a wild cat.

Da'Uthryn, Shadow-Blood,
You are very persistent in not getting caught. But be aware, for where hired swords have failed, the Dark One's might shall not. And the dawn shall rise red above your path. I am coming for you.

That was all that stood in there, but Aldanith understood the message more than well. He rolled it again and threw it onto the table by the side of the bed, dropping onto the covers and frowning at the ceiling.

Grace followed the bootprints all the way to the inn. She looked up at the building. Apparently Aldanith had already found a new place, out of the rain. He didn't need her. She felt disappointment, but only for a moment before she through the feeling away.

She turned on her heel and began walking away from the inn, feeling like a fool all the while. Time to go home.

If Deneryn was coming, she could perfectly well murder the whole village, would she be in the mood to do so. Or at least a large part of it. And Aldanith was sure that it would result in him getting arrested... If the circumstances wouldn't be known to someone.

He ripped the bottom part of the scrap of paper onto which Deneryn wrote her message, and ran out of her room and down the stairs to find a suitable quill and ink, which he hoped the tavern keep will have. He wasn't mistaken...

Writing with his left hand was more than terrible, but after a few minutes of concentration, he produced something that could be read, folded it over, and slipped under his shirt. Now just to get through the rain again.

It was only slightly less painful and uncomfortable to run through the raging storm for this time, but he remembered the way, and without armour, he was far lighter, though shielding the letter with his own body proved quite complicated. Eventually, he stopped in front of Grace's house. Even though reluctant to communicate with her again, he banged onto the door, and waited.

Grace arrived home and sat in her kitchen a while, reflecting on the events of the last couple of days. She was still at it when she heard a knock at the door. The half-orc considered not answering, but decided that her bad mood was no reason to be rude and leave someone out in the rain.

She got up from her chair, taking care not to knock it over this time, and went to the front door. She opened the portal to a sight that truly surprised her. Aldanith. She was too shocked to say anything coherent, and only managed to stumble out a, "What are you doing here?" despite all the other things she wanted to say.

Standing in the doorway like a drenched cat, with his hair and clothes completely stuck onto his thin figure, Aldanith frowned, reaching under his shirt for the letter. It was beginning to get slightly soaked...

His hand reached out, giving it forth to Grace. "Needed to give this. To you." he explained, just as briefly and grimly as usual, too proud to even step into the shelter the step in front if the door offered. And then, he just stood there, waiting.

Grace was still too stunned to say anything until the dark elf handed her the letter. She took it, and the paper's wet condition made her realize that Aldanith was still out there getting soaked in the rain. She had told him she didn't want him in the house, but she couldn't just leave him out there...

Her kindness won out over her better judgement. "Oh come in and stopped getting soaked out there." she told him. "And close the door behind you."

With those words, she turned and made her way to the kitchen, where she sat at the table and unfolded the letter. She started reading, doing her best to get past the soaked parts of it and the word's she didn't know.

She knew some writing, but had never had the opportunity to learn a lot of it. Mostly just what she could pick up form her more book-oriented friends and from a few lessons as a child. That still left her with a lot of things she didn't know and she couldn't quite get the gist of the letter.

"Aldanith," she called sheepishly, "can you read this for me."

At first, Aldanith was reluctant to enter the house, but after all, it was better than standing in the rain, and he stepped in, closing the door behind himself to stop the rain from getting inside. He shook some water off himself and wiped the mud off his boots against the door frame, following Grace into the kitchen without saying a single word.

He watched her read the letter, with obvious complications, and frowned a little as she handed it back to him. "I can't really write with my left hand." he muttered, before opening the scrap in his own hand.

"But there stands: I have gotten a message informing me that the person who was sending the hired mercenaries after me is coming herself. She's very violent and will most likely attempt to murder local residents, not only me, and therefore I warn you about this. I will, off course, do what I can to kill her first, but I can't guarantee anything. Tell the locals to be careful and avoid suspicious people. And don't hold me accountable of her crimes, I didn't invite her."

He handed the letter back. "That's all."

Grace was surprised at the elf's actions. Every time she thought she understood him he went and did something to defy her expectations. It was starting to drive her a little nuts. She could see that it had taken a lot out of him to come here like this, and she realized that she needed to respond with similar sincerity.

"Thanks for the warning Aldanith, I'll make sure to put everyone on alert. And," she paused for a moment, embarrassed, "sorry for flipping out on you earlier. That was wrong of me. This is La'marri, and who you were in the past shouldn't matter here." She stood up, and looked away to hide how red her face was. "You can stay here if you want, until you get better."

Having said so, Grace walked quickly to the front door, grabbing and donning her cloak on the way. She went out in the pouring rain, face hot with mortification. She hated having to admit her wrongdoing, and it embarrassed her to no end, but what was worse was how much better she felt now.

Without saying one more word, Aldanith watched her leave. Only then did he walk over to the corner of the room and sit down, pulling his knees to his chest and laying his head down on them. Running around so much really did take a lot of energy out of him... He yawned, and closed his eyes.

When Grace would return, she'd find him asleep, huddling in the corner.

It took Grace an hour to go to each of the keeper's houses and rouse them into action. From there, the small group took to the streets, stopping at each home to warn the inhabitants about possible approaching danger. It only took a few hours for the small group to finish their rounds, La'marri wasn't a large place.

Her duty to the town completed, Grace returned to her abode, planning to interrogate her guest about their mutual enemy. When she returned, she found in sleeping on the floor. She almost groaned. It was a terrible habit of his, falling asleep at the worst times and places.

She relocated him to the guest bed, using the same magical lullaby she had produced earlier to keep him relaxed and asleep during the transition. She left him in the room, and returned to the kitchen, where she began planning on her own.

Soon after being brought to the bed, Aldanith awoke again, immediately standing up and walking out. No, he didn't want to be here, not at the slightest. He wasn't used to sleeping this much... And it wasn't pleasant. Even though it was necessary, he always hated having to sleep his wounds off.

He raked through his hair a few times, sighing. It was still raining. How was anyone supposed to do something in this weather? He shook his hair, still damp with the rain, and slicked it back to stop it from falling into his face and eyes, what was something that he hated a lot.

His steps led him to the doorway of the kitchen, where he sighted Grace again. "I'm going back to the inn." he informed her, but didn't step out of the door yet, as if he awaited her reaction.

Grace heard Aldanith speak, and looked up from the table. She didn't startle this time, though it took a conscious effort to act unsurprised. Bloody elf was too silent.

Aldanith's words made the half-Orc shake her head. "It's already afternoon and there's not much point in going bak. You can stay here, I promise I won't freak out on you." Her last sentence was said sheepishly, a bit of her embarrassment at her earlier actions still remaining.

"I already told you, who you were doesn't matter in La'marri, only who you are now."

"I have my things in the room over there. I don't feel safe without them." he replied plainly. "Even though I'm not exactly in the state to fight, old habits aren't gone that easily, especially if their roots reach so deep. I have slept with a knife by my side since I was a child, and I'm not meaning to change that."

His arm wrapped around his chest, and he leaned onto the frame of the door, casually crossing his legs. "Besides, you have expressed that you don't want me here. I feel better alone than unwelcome."

He was making good sense about his stuff still being at the inn, and she could understand his reluctance to stay. "Alright, go there then if you'll be more comfortable there. Doesn't matter to me either way."

She said that, though it actually did. She would be rather upset if he turned down her hospitality. She'd understand the elf's choice, but she'd still be unhappy about it.

"I can't." he shrugged, "It's raining too much and I'm already soaked, anyway. It's uncomfortable enough for me like this. I'll go when it stops raining..." Running here and there twice was painful enough, three times would most likely make him collapse. He didn't want to faint in the middle of a street, though...

"Till then I'll have to wait."

She nodded. The drow's words made good sense. Though, she did wonder if they weren't just a justification on some level...

Oh well, no matter. Whether or not the elf actually wanted to be here, he was going to have to be now; and whether or not she actually wanted him here, she should treat him like a guest. "You should go and take off your soaked clothes in the guest room." she didn't bother pointing, he knew where it was. "I'll go grab you something to wear."

She stood up without waiting for him to move, and went to her room to gain access to her closet. What did she have that Aldanith could wear?

With a nod, Aldanith disappeared again, as silently as he always came. Even though he wasn't too eager to change clothes.

He took off what he could, but with the shirt, there was a problem. How is he supposed to get out of it if he can't move his arm? He growled, and sat down onto the bed, angrily staring somewhere into the distance. This was really becoming a nuisance.

Grace walked into the room carrying one of her smaller tunics and trousers. The clothing was slightly tight on her, but she knew it would hang loose on the elf's gaunt frame. She noticed that he had stripped to his shirt, but that garment was soaked as well.

She was wondering why he hadn't removed it as well, but than his bandaged arm registered in her thoughts. He must not be able to move that arm very well. She walked over to the bed and deposited the dry clothing on the blanket next to Aldanith. Then she turned to the elf. "Let me help you with that." she motioned to his shirt. "Lift your arms up."

"If I could move the right one, I'd have done it myself." he growled back at her. That she was trying to help was nice, but did she honestly expect him to move a broken shoulder just like that? He sighed.

It was really starting to get on his nerves. He pulled the shirt as much as he could without moving his arm, but all he managed to do was slightly ripping it. "F***ing piece of shit..." he snarled, giving it a look so grim it could freeze a volcano.

Aldanith's ire surprised Grace a bit. He must be in a bad mood. She made a mental note to antagonize him as little as possible. "You know what," she said, "I can get i the shirt off without you needing to life your arm. Keep it as still as possible, alright?"

He'd already ridden the shirt pretty far up along his chest, but he couldn't seem to get it past there. She considered the problem for a moment, before moving to open up the armscye on his uninjured side as best she could without ripping the wet fabric. "Pull you arm out through here and then I can get if over your head, alright?"

He'd have blushed if he could. Such a horribly humiliating experience... But even despite that, he gave her a nod and did what she asked, clenching his teeth as got his right arm out. His face remained calm, but actually, it did hurt him.

"I can do the rest alone." he assured her, pulling the shirt over his head and dropping it into the floor. "Maybe except for this..." The new one he reached after was also quite difficult to put on, naturally due to the same reasons. It was driving him crazy.

She stepped back when Aldanith said he could do the rest. She wasn't so sure though, he might have trouble with...

Yep, there it was. He couldn't get the shirt on. Made sense, considering how much of a pain it'd been for him to get his old one off. "Here," she said, stepping in close, "let me help you with that two." There combined efforts eventually got the shirt onto the elf, and she hoped that he didn't suffer too much through the process.

She hoped he healed soon, she didn't know how much more of this she could take. "Do you need anything else?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "That's all. Thanks." he muttered, once again avoiding her gaze behind the curtain of white hair, rubbing his arm. It was getting on his nerves, and although he healed fast, he wasn't sure if he can bear it any longer. Even though magic could backfire into bad consequences, and he didn't want to lose his other arm...

A sigh escaped his mouth. The rain wasn't looking like it's going to stop any soon.

Grace was rather glad that he didn't need anything else. She'd welcomed him back, and already he was getting a on her nerves a little bit. Something about knowing he'd been an assassin made his actions seem less pitiable and more hateful. Amazing what framing could do to a person's perception of things.

His sigh made her furrow her brow. Did he have to be so melancholy all the time? It was starting to be a downer on her too. "Alright, well if that's it then I'm going to head back out. I'll see you later?" she asked him.

"Fine with me. When it stops raining, I'll head back to the tavern." he informed her plainly, still deep in her thoughts. He would need the blacksmith to completely repair his armour, sharpen the weapons, and generally... Prepare him for Deneryn. That woman was insane, even more than himself.

He pulled his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arm around them. "Do you think that healer... Possesses a kind of magic that could avoid the healing backfiring on my body?" he asked, raising his gaze a little.

She was walking out of the room when he asked his question about Salia. She considered finishing her exit, but decided to instead give an answer to his inquiry. "I've never seen one of Salia spell's go too awry. Personally, if I was in your condition, I'd risk it. Salia is one of the best." she shrugged, "Still, I don't know exactly what's been done to you, so I can't say for sure."

"I don't want to lose my other arm, but while it's rendered useless, it's just about as bad. Though, every healing spell that has been applied to me so far has backfired, and pretty badly..." He tilted his head aside, contemplating the options.

Fighting Deneryn without the full force of his entire body was a sure death. However, losing an arm right now could be just as bad... He wouldn't have the time to get the kind of metal that replaced his left one. And in the worst case, a healing spell gone chaos could kill.

"Could you take me to her now?"

Grace waited while Aldanith made his decision. His eventual choice of going to the healer didn't really surprise her. This woman seem to put a great measure of worry in the dark elf. If Grace wasn't so sure that it was impossible, she'd say that he was scared. But that couldn't be it.

"Sure, I'll take you to her place again. Come on, there's a cloak in then kitchen that you can wear to keep yourself from getting soaked again." The half-orc left the room and returned to the kitchen, where she began donning her still-wet cloak. The one she'd worn just a few minutes ago to give out warning. She wouldn't have bothered taking it off if she knew she was going out again so soon afterwards.

She finished putting the garment on and walked to the front door. She held off on opening it, and instead turned to check on Aldanith's progress. "You coming?"

"Yes," he muttered, walking towards the door while he buckled his cape. He shot an impatient gaze at the door, and gestured to Grace to open it. Even though he didn't let it show, he was nervous - the last healing spell that wasn't from his brother almost killed him.

Accursed demons.

Grace gave Aldanith a cold stare, but she proceeded to open the door. She walked out into the cold rain, and shouted back, "Close the door behind you!"

She led the way down the muddy streets, avoiding the worst patches as best she could. She was suddenly wishing that she had remembered to wear heavier boots, but she wasn't about to turn back now. The rain had made the streets even worse since she was last out. That wasn't a good sign. She hoped this didn't go on much longer.

It was some time of wordless travel before the pair arrived at Salia's house. Grace, like both other times they'd come here, opened the door and walked in without hesitation. She stopped in the entryway, took off her cloak and hung it on a peg by the door, and then went inside the main room. "Salia, you here?" she called out to the healer.

Like most other times, Aldanith followed her without a word. Like a shadow behind her, towering above the muddy streets, he hardly made a sound while walking. Just like a ghost. After they entered the house, he followed her example and hung the soaked cape beside hers, shaking some water it of his hair, and stepped forth to the doorway.

"She's here." he muttered to Grace, hearing footsteps nearby. The healer was somewhere around.

Sure enough, Salia came out of the back room, brushing something off her hands as she came towards the entrance. At the sight of the pair, she tsked. "What trouble have you two gotten yourselves into now? Seriously Grace, charity only goes so far. Any more treatments after this and I'm charging one of you." The healer emphasized her displeasure by glaring at them intensely.

"No fresh injuries Salia, I promise. Aldanith hear," she gestured to the elf behind her, "wants to try some magical treatments."

Sali looked around the half-orc at her companion. "Oh is that so? What changed your mind? Does this have something to do with that Drow I'm supposed to watch out for that Frederick was telling me about earlier?"

"Yes." he replied sharply. "I cannot allow myself to risk something so obliviously as I would if I wouldn't fight in perfect condition. However, I warn you:" he stepped somewhat closer to Salia, "my body spontaneously reacts at healing magic. Badly. You will have to be extra careful, because I want to keep my other arm, alright?"

The pair of cold blue eyes pierced her like spears as their stares met. In his, there was a warning - screw something up, and you're as good as dead.

Salia returned Aldanith's steely glare with a gaze full of silent reproach. She didn't appreciate him trying to scare her. It was no way to act towards someone who was going to heal you, and it was really just rude in general. The drow's whole demeanor reminded her of a dragon she'd once treated. Through the entire process the creature had been telling her that if she failed he would eat her.

Of course, he was satisfied with the job, but he had tried to eat her anyway. The nerve of him!. She sighed internally at the memory. After she was done informing him of the folly of his decision she had to fix him again! It really had been a pain. She hoped this wasn't as much as a bother as that event was.

"Alright, I promise you I'll be extra careful, so take your armor off and get on the table. I need to see what I'm dealing with again and what's changed since I saw you last. If you want me to do a safe job, then you're going to have to let me take a thorough look at you."

"I heal fast. It might have changed a lot since you saw me last, but I did as I was asked and moved as little as possible." Aldanith explained her, with somewhat less hate in his voice, while he took off his armour and clothes, perched on the edge of the table.

"Though, I may not be able to explain what is the nature of the magic in my body that stops healing spells from working correctly, if that is something you might ask about. It is... A complicated and dark matter, and one that is completely my own, at that. All I can say is that it is closely connected to dark magic, which had a large impact on myself." He took care in choosing the words that left his lips, and therefore spoke slowly and silently, but his gaze was turned away.

Most mortals were judging. And she may refuse to treat him if he'd reveal that his past... Especially the possession.

Salia nodded. This sounded like a complicated problem, and actually she was interested. She loved complicated problems. She didn't get a lot of truly intriguing cases, and when they did pop up it actively excited her.

"Alright now lay down." she told him. "I'm gonna feel around you a bit so don't freak out, alright?" From outside appearances, it did look like Aldanith had healed most of his wounds, but she wanted to get a closer look.

He laid down without any further resistance, carefully dropping his right arm onto the wooden board of the table. "I do not have the tendency to freak out at things like this." he stated plainly. He knew that this was all for his own good. He was perfectly aware of that.

And yet... Yet there was a part of him that honestly didn't want to be here.

Salia worked with quick experience, feeling around his body, poking and prodding and generally investigating. What she found was... disturbing.

She'd never seen a body so, well, dark. She couldn't come up with a good explanation. His body seemed somehow, broken. All over on the inside. What had happened to him?

She also sensed tension in him. He really didn't feel comfortable with this healing. What experiences had he had that put him so on edge. This was going to be difficult. She could almost feel herself shaking.

With excitement. She couldn't have asked for more. She actually sped up her analysis, and her skilled hands almost flew across his body, inspecting pressure points, searching for any internal or external maladies beyond what she already knew.

She finished her search, finally. "Alright, I'm going to begin treating you. Very carefully, I promise."

All the poking and touching was horribly uncomfortable to Aldanith. He hasn't had this much human contact with anyone for years... Plus, she was dabbing her fingers both into his old scars and new wounds. That didn't please him. And yet, he didn't even flick a brow.

And then the real pain came. Healing spells weren't the most comfortable magic, but since his possession, even the weakest healing was outright agonizing. As if his very flesh, bone and blood would resist it, tearing itself to pieces inside him in the moment the spell started to work. Though, he was sure that she was indeed being careful - it wasn't as horrible as before, and the pain wasn't coming from any real source, what was a success.

He pushed the sensation into the back of his mind. It would only disturb him... His eyes seemed hollow and empty when he stared up, the bright blue of their irises covered by a dark veil.

Salia started slowly at first, using only minimal amounts of magic. She could feel a strong resistance to her efforts, almost as if she was trying to sew through leather.

She considered trying to use more power, but she wasn't sure how his body would react. This seemed to be working, she was pretty sure it was. She thought she could see his cuts mending and his broken bone was beginning to mend, but it was agonizingly slow, and she might be mistaken. And even if it was working, at this rate the process would take hours. She could tell that the elf was in some discomfort, certain nerves were knotting involuntarily, but she couldn't tell how much.

"Aldanith, I'm going to ask you a question and I need a completely honest answer, no bravodo, no machoism, just complete and honest truth. How long can you sustain this level of pain? This process seems to be working, I think, but it's slow. This could go on for hours. Can you hold out that long?"

More importantly though, could her supply of magic go that long. Might be interesting to find out...

He frowned and narrowed his eyes, pondering. If he asked her to speed it up, he might risk getting hurt by it... Though, if it was going to last hours, he might run out of patience! And his pain resistance was surely greater than that.

"Speed it up. I could last through having my whole arm cut off inch by inch without shedding a tear. But I'm gonna run out of patience if it's gonna last you a whole day." he growled eventually, folding his left arm underneath his head and clenching his teeth.

"Just do it faster! For all I know, knock me out!" he hissed.

Salia frowned. Fine then, faster it was. Over the next few minutes she incrementally increased the amount of magic she was using. Soon, she reached double her original usage. Healing sped up at the same rate, doubling with the doubled magic, but the resistance she was getting to her magic increased exponentially, which wasn't good. Any more power and it might spin out of control.

Salia could understand why Aldanith was so averse to healers. She was pretty sure she only knew four other people who could heal at the level she needed to employ now to guarantee that her power remained under control.

"Aldanith." she started speaking again. "I think I've found the breaking point. Any more power than this is going to cause that blowback you mentioned. Good news is, at this rate we'll be done in an hour and a half. Can you wait that long or do you want Grace to put you under?"

From across the room, Grace looked up at the mention of her name. What was going on? She had been lost in her thoughts, plotting ways to minimize damage if two people on Aldanith's level decided to duke it out on the streets. She wasn't getting very far. It was a tough situation.

One and a half hour... There wasn't a way he could survive this agony for one and a half hour sane!

A loud, horrible scream escaped his mouth. It was as if half of his chest was being burned, stabbed, slashed to pieces, and this pain was eating away his sanity... His mind... All of his body was twitching his agony, and he screamed and screamed till he didn't even find the strength to repeat those shouts of pain. His left hand lifted to his mouth, letting his teeth bite into the metal to stop himself from screaming at least for a while, but it was worth nothing.

"Stop it! Please, stop it! Stop it for a moment! I can't... I won't last... I BEG YOU! STOP IT!" he shouted at Salia through the hot tears, rolling from his eyes. It was a continuous feeling, every moment agonizing more than the previous...

He couldn't possibly last that long.

She could feel Aldanith struggling under her hands. The pain coming off of him was almost palpable. There was no way. His screaming confirmed her fears. She immediately slacked off on her use of power, but his pain seemed to endure. "Grace," she shouted, "I need you to calm him!"

The screaming had startled Grace, and she nodded mutely. She hustled over to the pair's side and opened her mouth wide. Several pitches rose from her at once, swelling and surrounding the room, enveloping the people inside with feelings of comfort.

All of a sudden, it was gone. It appeared that the healer stopped, because the horrible sensation has disappeared, and left Aldanith staring blankly at the ceiling. He didn't scream anymore - there was no reason to. All stopped, without any echoes or even marks left that would prove that it really happened.

He slowly turned his head at Salia. "Can you give me a glass of water?" he requested in a silent voice, sounding somewhat rugged from all that screaming.

Salia nodded. She left Grace to her soothing song and went to her kitchen. She grabbed a glass and got some water from a bucket in the room. She walked back to the table and set the glass on the surface in Aldanith's reach.

She started inspecting the Drow's wounds, seeing the progress of the treatment. There was a definite healing, the wound's were probably about a third of the way to being closed over and the broken bones were setting nicely, but she was going to need to go in again "Aldanith," she said, "do you want to try again, or leave it as it is?"

Drawing short, ragged breaths in, Aldanith emptied the glass of water like nothing. It was comfortably cold, and cooled him from the inside. Although at Salia's inspecting he twitched a little, and threw a cold look at her when she touched his shoulder, he didn't protest.

However, it took him a while to answer her question - a while spent carefully considering his options. "Concentrate on the bone. Take it in intervals no longer than five minutes and give me some time between those... When that's done, I'll think about the rest." he eventually replied. There was concern in his cold, hard voice, even though hard to sense.

Salia listened to Aldanith's words. She considered telling him not to tell a healer how to do her job, but his recommendation was sound and frankly she didn't feel it worth getting into an argument with the Drow.

"Alright, let's get started again." She told Aldanith. "Grace," she spoke to the half-orc without looking, "keep up that song."

The healer put her hands gently on Aldanith's shoulder and sent small pulses of magic to accelerate the elf's already formidable healing process. She had better control over a small target like just the shoulder as opposed to trying to heal all his wounds simultaneously, so she was better able to modulate her magic use.

She used the procedure outlined, letting him have breaks every few minutes, and in that way they slowly progressed. Through the whole experience, Salia was learning new things about her art. She'd never had to control her healing magic so finely, and the experience was valuable.

She kept up the healing, and eventually she had the bone back in one piece. At least, she thought she did. She couldn't be sure, and the only one who would be able to tell for sure was Aladnith.

She cut off her magic. "Alright, I think it's done. Try moving it around a little and tell me what you think."

Through all that time, even despite that song, Aldanith was cringing with pain, though now that she was only healing the bone, it was bearable. He remained as quiet as he could, although a few sighs escaped through his clenched teeth, but this time, he didn't scream.

When she finished, he slowly raised himself to his elbows. The bone didn't hurt anymore, and it appeared to move just as smoothly before. He immediately touched it with his left hand, studying the joint, and moved his arm around a little. It seemed to be fine.

"Feels alright... If you do it like this, I can stand it." he concluded after a while. "I think I can last a little longer."

Salia watched Aldanith carefully as he moved his arm. She saw no problems, and was excited enough to smile when he reported no problems. She loved doing a job right.

He told her that he could keep going, and her grin faded a bit as she considered what to do next. His arm wound was probably the biggest priority. But then again, she wasn't the one who would be fighting soon.

"Alright Aldanith, I'd recommend that we do your arm next while we know you have the strength," and me, she added silently in her head, this slow healing was very draining, "but I don't know what the best would be for you. Is there anything you're going to need more urgently healed for your upcoming encounter?"

((OCC: Pretty soon I'm gonna have to make a profile for Salia XD))

"The deepest wounds. I heal fast by myself, so you can leave the shallow scratches. But I'll need my wrist right... Something isn't entirely," he grabbed his hand, and bent his wrist, "correct. I don't have sense in it."

It was worrying him. The metal part of his hand was alright, but the rest was somehow stiff, as if his wrist was tied very tight. "If I move it too much, it hurts. One of the nerves might be cut." He ran his fingers around the edge of his wrist to the back of his hand, staring somewhere into the distance.

His worry that his nerve had been cut made Salia concerned as well. Normally nerves weren't that bad, they just took a bit of fine control and extra magic to guarantee the flow of energy through them.

Aldanith's case, however, complicated things a bit. It would, of course, take significantly more magic than usual, and she couldn't do it quickly either, which meant maintaining an even finer control of her magic over a longer period than she'd used to heal the bone.

Carefully she self-examined her own magical reserves, judging or not whether she could perform such a procedure. She wanted to try. She really did. To push herself to the limits of her ability...

But long experience told her that she needed to stop now. She looked at Aldanith and shook her head. "I don't have the power left in me to fix a nerve right now without losing control. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but..." she left it hanging.

"If you come back tomorrow, I'll be better rested and replenished. I can try again then." she offered. "Until then, maybe it's better for all of us to take a break."

Aldanith's lips narrowed into a thin line, but he nodded. He wouldn't risk getting his hand completely destroyed because of his own impatience... It wasn't worth it. He'd rather wait.

"I understand... I will have to return tomorrow, then." he muttered. "If you have any wraps left I could use..." Sliding off the table, he looked around, still carefully holding his hand. "I wouldn't want to get something into the wound, or tear the stitches, even if it's only for a night."

It was a pity she was out of her powers, but that was a matter well known to him. Playing with one's strength was... Dangerous at least.

At his question about wraps, Salia nodded and turned to Grace. "Alright Grace that's enough, you can stop now."

The soothing song slowly faded from the room. She looked at Salia, "We done?" she asked.

The healer nodded, "For now, we're going to start again tomorrow. Go get some bandages so we can keep Aldanith's arm wound clear and supported until then."

The half-orc nodded and went to a nearby cabinet. She pulled some linen wraps out of it and returned to Salia, who took them and carefully began bandaging her patient's wounds.

When she finished, she stepped back and addressed the pair. "Alright, you two are good to go."

Grace turned to look at Aldanith. "What now then? Do you have other preparations to make?"

"Repair my armour. I need it as strong as possible if I don't want to get a claw into my liver." he hissed through his clenched teeth, fastening the wraps on his wrist, which he didn't find tight enough. Right after, he grabbed his shirt, and quickly pulled it over his head.

"Is the smith skilled enough to strengthen it?" he asked while grabbing his borrowed cape, and pinning it by his neck.

Grace shrugged. "Probably. There's a couple of blacksmiths in La'marri, I'm sure one of them is skilled enough to do what you need. I can take you to one of the better ones, and not the poor guy who's smithy you wrecked, okay?"

She smiled, showing that she didn't really mean it, "Let's go," she told him. She turned to Salia. "And thanks, I owe you, again."

So saying, Grace left the healer's house and took off for Crain's smithy. He was nearby, and he was skilled, he probably fit the bill that Aldanith needed filled.

Noiselessly like a shadow, Aldanith followed her, walking just a few feet behind. But even though he looked indifferent, maybe even bored, his mind was working full-on all along.

Deneryn would most likely come from the east... But that wouldn't be her style. She'd go around, and enter the town from the west, that would be more like her. He'd need to surprise her, to use that moment and smite her down before she could defend herself.

But for that, a bigger weapon would work far better than his scimitars. He needed something heavy.

As he stood in the doorway of the smithy, he took his hood off. "I'll need armour repairs and a new weapon... Can this guy do that?" he inquired silently to Grace, while his eyes studied the room. Looked like a good enough blacksmith.

Grace shrugged? "I honestly don't know Aldanith. I've heard that Crain is as good a blacksmith as Salia is a healer, but more than that..." she shrugged again. "I guess we'll find out won't we."

Grace took a deep breath, and called out in her most booming voice: "CRAIN, YOU'VE GOT A CUSTOMER."

She looked apologetically at Aldanith. "Sorry for the yelling, Crain's kinda deaf from years spent at the forge."

As the blacksmith walked into the entranceway from a back room, it became clear just how many years spent at the forge. Crain was clearly a dwarf, and an ancient one at that. He had a closely trimmed beard and wispy, balding hair all of the same snow white color, and his face was lined with innumerable wrinkles. His muscles still looked strong, however, and his eyes peered shrewdly out from under a heavy brow.

"Well, well, well," he started once he saw Grace, "have you finally decided to upgrade from you cudgel my dear?"

Grace laughed. When she spoke, however, it was in a kind of half shout, "No Crain, actually not. This fellow here," she pointed to Aldanith behind her, "needs some work done. He wants armor repairs and a new weapon, but I'm sure he can tell you more of exactly what he needs."

Grace stepped aside so Crain could get a clear view of Aldanith. "Well, well, well," Crain intoned, "A Drow. Don't see too many of those around here. What can old Crain do for you today?"

"Repair my armour, and craft a weapon that could cleave steel." Aldanith replied coldly. "My gear is broken, and my current weapons are, even though excellent at what they are meant to do, insufficient for my next opponent."

He reached back for his two scimitars, and revealed their perfect, cold shapes. They were weapons meant to be silent and deadly, ones that kill, not only warn with a scratch. Death instruments.

"I need something large." he growled. "Actually... Maybe bigger than large. But steel won't be enough. Can you craft from this?" He rolled the sleeve of his shirt up, and showed him the perfect, dark metal, forming his left arm. "And the same stands for my armour. I am not your ordinary warrior. It has to be repaired to the standard where it would take a blow from a dragon's maw."

He knew that what he asked for was no little service, but it was necessary. He knew Deneryn... She wouldn't give him any escaping chances. That was the way they both fought. It's do or die.

The dwarf whistled. "That there's a tall order Mr. I might be able to do what you ask, but it ain't gonna be cheap, and it's prob'ly gonna take a while too. What kind of time frame are we lookin' at, and what kinda money do you have? Oh, and I'm gonna have to look at your weapons, your armor, and that weird arm o' yours to get a frame of reference."

The transaction wouldn't be cheap. Aldanith was asking for a lot. However the sight of the exotic metals and interesting armor had Crain's blood going. Like Salia, and like many of the masters in La'marri, Crain loved a challenge. This certainly didn't look easy. But that made it more fun. He wouldn't admit it outright since it affected his asking price, but he was eager to try his hand at this job.

"I can pay you with things that far exceed gold and money." Aldanith replied, with pride, but coldly. "The price is not a problem for me." His voice was like a sharp spike of steel when he spoke, looking down at the smith.

"I will need the weapon tomorrow. The armour two days later." he instructed him in he same tone. "But I request to stay and watch over the making of my gear through the entire process. Due to my own reasons... I don't need sleep, and I don't need food. But I will stay, or find another smith. I need to see completely everything you will do."

"And don't call any part of myself weird." he hissed in the end.

Aldanith's requirements made Crain whistle. "That's fast," he told the drow, "it'll be hard to get the quality you want working at that speed, even for me." He turned to Grace, "go find my apprentices would ya? We're gonna need all hands on deck.

He turned back to the dark elf. "I don't have no problem with you staying to watch, but keep outta the way. And draw up a diagram or something of that weapon you want, or at least give me some more specifics. I dunno if you want an axe, a saber, or whatever."

"I can pay you with things you've never even dreamed about." he replied confidently. "If I get it on time in the highest quality."

He narrowed his eyes, and leaned in, till his eyes were in the same height as Crain's. The couple of ice-cold orbs was burning like torches, but it was a cold, and cruel flame. "And if you don't... Then I will do to you things you've never even dreamed about. I don't care who you are, but failure is not an option when I'm the customer."

His metal hand appeared right under the dwarven smith's chin. "Remember that." he whispered, or hissed. The tip of his tongue flashed on his lips, and those twisted into a devilish grin for a moment - right before he sprang back up, and that all disappeared.

Crain eye's hardened. "Out," he said simply, pointing towards the door. "I don't do work for those who disrespect me. Ever."

He turned to Grace, "Take him and go. See if you can find another smith who can fill his ridiculous request, but I won't do it."

The crotchety old dwarf turned and began walking toward the back of his workshop while Grace wheeled on the drow hissed a question at him, "Why did you do that? You know how much you scare Crain? Not at all. That dwarf has seen it all Aldanith, and I'm pretty sure that if you got a greater dragon in here to roar at him he still wouldn't bat an eyelash. He's the best there is and you just pissed him off!"

"I can forge my weapon myself!" he hissed back, angrily baring his teeth at her. What did that stupid dwarf just think? That he's never met a dwarf? Or that he will get him begging if he sends him out? Well, that was simply mistaken.

He wasn't born yesterday. Storming out of the smithy with his head held high, he walked out into the streets. That bearded bastard...

Grace looked first at the retreating from of Crain, then of Aldanith. Oh the stubborn pair of fools!

She ran out of the smithy, following the sullen Drow. "So what now?" she asked him. "You know how to forge? And where are you going to do it?"

"Off course I can forge. I know a lot of things, Grace." Aldanith growled, for a change calling her by name. "I will pay to borrow a forge, but I will have to wait for tomorrow. With a hand I can't use I won't forge anything. Is there any other smithy somewhere around?" he asked then.

He didn't need any stinky bearded dwarf to forge his weapons. Quite frankly, he hated dwarves, maybe even more than he hated all other creatures.

Grace blinked in surprise when Aldanith used her name. That was a change. She didn't have time to dwell on the odd occurrence, however. The dark elf was already asking a question. "There's a couple more around the village, and I'm sure one of them will let you use their facilities," she told him in response to his question.

Grace thought for a moment, and then posed some queries of her own. "But where do you plan on getting the materials, and what are you going to do in the meantime?"

"You wouldn't wanna know." he replied bleakly. "I bet you that." He pulled the hood into his face to shield him from the rain, and looked down. "In the meantime, I'm going to sleep. What else would I do?"

From the way that Aldanith was looking, and probably feeling, sleep was most likely a good idea. Grace was pretty sure that he had yet to fully recover from his treatment, though she was never able to be quite sure with the Drow.

"So are you going to head back to the inn then?" she asked him, slightly hesitantly. The implication was obvious: or are you gonna come back to my house?

He sighed. "The inn. I think it's closer." he replied. The long wisps of his hair fell into his face, and he kept flicking them out with his left hand, but his efforts were useless. In the end, in all the annoyance, he bent his head back, letting the hood of his cape slide off the stark white hair, and looked up at the dark sky, letting the rain fall onto his face.

How familiar the darkness was to him. But it wasn't his home...

She nodded, not sure if she was relieved or not. "Alright, I'll see you later then? I still have to show you to another forge I guess. Do you have any idea when and where you'd like to meet up again? I don't want to leave it to chance for us to run into each other. La'marri's not that small."

((OOC: Sorry, short post, couldn't think of anything else to add :P))

With a slight sigh, he gave her a glance over his shoulder. "I will be at... The healer's house in the morning." he replied quietly. He needed his right hand to forge, after all, so he'd hurry to get it all done as soon as possible. Even though the idea of going through THAT was more than uncomfortable... Not like he had a choice, really. Not like he had a choice.

She nodded as she turned off into a different street than the on that led to the inn. "Alright, I'll see you there then. Don't start a fight or anything until then, please."

She didn't wait to here his response and instead walked along the road back to her home. Being with Aldanith always left here feeling exhausted, and she needed to head back home and rest. Maybe a nap, that could be good. This rain was starting to give her a chill, and a break sounded good right about now, before she caught a cold out here.

It seemed that the clouds have gone through the night, and the morning was fresh and clean, with the strips of azure sky bright between the remains of ripped clouds that lay upon it. It was still early morning, and the world was coated in blue shadows, when Aldanith was already standing in front of the healer's door, looking gloomy as always. His typical armour was back on, and his hair was tied up except for a few strands of white, lining his pale face. He no longer looked miserable as before...

Actually, he hardly looked different from his usual state. Only if someone carefully watched him, they might have noticed that the way he held his right arm was somewhat more careful than normal. But otherwise, there was nothing unusual in his motion as he raised his left hand, and knocked on the door.

One, two, three, and he waited.

The next morning, Grave was up bright and early. She went to Salia's house pretty quick after waking up, intent on beating Aldanith there. She wanted to be on hand any time the Drow interacted with someone powerful in the village. She might be able to smooth over some of his rough edges that way.

She succeeded in her goal, arriving at Salia's place before Aldanith, so the two were prepped by the time the Dark Elf arrived. Grace opened the door a few seconds after the pair heard knocking. She was confronted with Aldanith's brooding visage. "Morning," she said with a nod.

"Morning." Aldanith greeted her in his usual, somewhat rough voice, and without being invited, he made his way in. The closest to a greeting he gave the two was a slight nod. Their company wasn't one of his favorites, and he was meaning to get this over and done as soon as possible.

With his head held high, he faced the two. "Let's get to business. I can't afford wasting time, and neither can you if your heads have some price to you." he spoke.

Grace sighed internally. So impatient. Still, it did make sense to start as quickly as they could. Salia agreed, and ushered the Dark Elf to the table he had laid upon before. Once he was ready, she would carefully began applying slight amounts of magic to the Drow's body, testing the limits of what he could sustain today.

Today, Aldanith was full of strength, and as calm as one just could be. There was nothing in him that would further stay in the way of Salia's magic. He was sure that the healer would have less trouble healing him this morning than she had yesterday.

And he was determined neither to scream nor cry. Something like that was under him, and he could not afford such theatrical displays of emotions. That was how it was, and that was how it was going to be.

End of discussion.

He laid down onto the table, taking the armour on his right arm, and partially chest, off.

The same resistance was present today as before, but it was much less now, and Salia pushed through it, routing her magic into Aldanth's wounds and repairing them, slowly but surely. She didn't know what had changed, but he was much more receptive to the treatment.

It took the better part of an hour before Salia was satisfied, but she saw it through to the end. She stood back with a sigh and wiped the sweat off her brow. "Alright Aldanith, there you go. You should be about as close to healed as I can get you. Don't take my word for it though, why don't you stand up and make sure for yourself?"

He didn't need to be told twice. The moment she stepped away he sat up, stretching his right hand and twisting the wrist, trying to find out whether it's completely healed. Its responsiveness seemed back in normal, and when he ran the hand along the surface of the table, he felt every part of the texture again. There was just one thing he could really test.

His hand arose back to his chest, cracking his knuckles with the left one. "Give me something I can break, I want to see whether it works again." he instructed them, his narrowed eyes scanning his surroundings.

Salia shook her head. As a healer, Aldanith's propensity for destruction disturbed her. It didn't feel like she was healing a person, it felt like she was fixing a weapon...

While Salia mused with her thoughts, Grace spoke up. "Why don't you put on your armor and then we can go outside. I'm sure there's a few rocks on the road that you can crush with your bare hands and besides, we've imposed on Salia enough."

They had been here a lot lately, and while Salia didn't seem too bothered by it, the healer was not someone that Grace wanted to upset. She was a powerful figure in the village and a good friend besides

"Thanks for the healing." he spoke silently to Salia as he fastened his armour back on, partly disappointed that he can't try out how good his hand was working right here and right now. But after all, it was better not to bash his fist into the table. That might cause him to be refused healing later... And he wasn't stupid at the slightest.

He sled off the table, and bowed his head to Salia ever so slightly as he made his way out of the house. He had a lot of work to do... Fix his armour and forge a whole new weapon... That could be quite a lot of work.

"I need a forge I can work in. I can't rely on the likes of that blacksmith." he commented on his way out. Though, the real problem was WHAT to forge the weapon from... He'd most likely have to melt his other weapons.

Aldanith's comment made Grace sigh. Both were so darned stubborn...

But that wasn't really important right now. She took the lead again, brining the Drow to another blacksmith's shop. "There's only a few more forges in La'marri you know, don't strike out on another one if you can help it," she told him as they walked in, half-jokingly and half-serious.

She greeted the proprietor, a human named Ross, with the same friendly recognition that she seemed to have for all residents. "Ross, this is Aldanith, you've probably heard of him by now, he needs a forge to work with so he can re-forge his weapons and armor. I was hoping that he could use yours."

Ross looked the Drow up and down briefly. "Sure, I don't see why not. I don't have any order to fill for a while. Just remember my policy Grace, you break it you buy it."

Aldanith, too, gave the man a suspicious glance from behind the veil of his white hair, but he eventually concluded that this smith was alright. Acceptable. He started unbuckling the broken pieces of armour, leaving him only in the shirt and leather underlayers that he wore underneath the metal plates. He rolled his sleeves above his elbows (and unintentionallyfully exposed the metal underneath them), carefully laying the armour to a safe place. "I will need a forge that can take really high temperatures." he informed the smith.

After armour, he started pulling the weapons, hidden around varying parts of his body. It was surprising how many daggers and knives one skinny Drow can carry on himself unnoticed - but together with his armour, they formed a rather big pile. He'd have to take apart and melt most of those...

Grace and Ross watched with mounting surprise as more and more blades were pulled out from secreted places around Aldanith's person. The half-orc wasn't sure whether to be impressed or perturbed by the sheer volume of weaponry. Ross also looked with interest at the Drow's metal arm, and Grace could almost feel him prepping to ask a question. She elbowed the blacksmith in the ribs even as he inhaled to speak. "Maybe not now," she whispered to him out of the corner of her mouth.

After that, Ross stayed quiet until Aldanith made his request for a forge. The blacksmith nodded, "Well mine's about as hot as they usually get, I mean, it's not as if you could melt a diamond in it, but it should be enough for any kind of metal."

"Should be enough." Aldanith nodded. He got to work as fast as possible, quickly finding his way around the forge to bring some of his weapons to one anvil and take them apart. The knives of the blades were dark, much like the metal that formed his left arm, dark, dim, and rather hard. At first, he doubted the forge's capability to melt them all, but he had to work with what he had, and put all of them in to melt them.

At first, it seemed as a rather small amount of metal to forge even a short sword, but he was fully aware that it would suffice for the forging technique he was about to proceed to. He was going to fold the metal over and over and over to produce a rather light weapon, exactly what he needed if he wanted to fight with a large blade.

For how thin he was, he displayed extraordinary strength when he pulled the blades, nearly melted by then, out, and started forging with them. It was like if the big hammer didn't weight an ounce. And all along, he didn't speak once.

Grace and Ross continued to watch Aldanith intently. For all of his flaws, the Drow was definitely an interesting person.

As Aldanith worked away at the forge, Ross gave a low whistle. "He's good," he said quietly. Grace looked at Ross out of the corner of her eye. "Better than you?" she asked him plainly.

Ross watched for a few moments longer. "Close. I can't really tell for sure. There'd have to be some type of competition or something..."

For the second time in a few minutes Grace elbowed the man in the ribs and whispered, "Maybe not now."

Ross nodded, and then turned back to watch the Drow at work, wondering just what it was that he was going to create.

The steel kept changing its shape under the pounding of his hammer. He dipped it into cold water, brought it back up and heated it red-hot to fold it over and reforge it a great number of times. He worked in silence, as steady and effective as a few human smiths would be, and maybe even faster than that. He didn't have all of eternity to forge a blade that would normally take at least ten days...

It needed more than the sheer strength of his body and the power of his will to keep him up.

He didn't have the time to ask if this type of magic was allowed to use here, either.

After he reforged the blade once again, increasing its size further, he drew his left hand near it. It became coated in something dark, as if covered in black flames. With that hand, he ran over the blade.

Ross mumbled thoughtfully and Grace tore her gaze away from the Drow to look at the blacksmith. "What is it?" she asked him in a whisper.

"That forging technique, I swear I've seen if before but I can't remember where. Something's weird though, he's doing it like he's rushed. I guess he really does need this work done quick."

Grace turned back to watch Aldanith at work. She noticed a black haze around his hand, and she thought she felt something that might have been a magical energy. She shivered a bit, and then whispered to Ross again, "Well I just hope that whatever's making him hurry isn't as scary as I think it might be."

Now, all Aldanith did was done above the anvil, using magic rather than traditional means. It wore him out even more than simply forging without a single break, but he ignored it all. It might take him two days to complete the weapon... And that was too long. Too long!

With the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat off his forehead, swiping his long hair back, and continued working. Nightfall came, and he was still working, tireless, not speaking once, nor stopping working for a single moment. As if he was a machine, completely devoted to his work.

Even when the sun set, the stars and the moon arose high onto the sky, he didn't stop working. The weapon was beginning to take a distinct shape, and that was that of a long, somewhat thin cleaver, with a slightly curved blade of dark metal - unusually big for the small amount of metal he used, and very light, too. But it was still rough, too rough to be used.

Morning came, and Aldanith was still forging.

Neither Ross nor Grace watched the Drow the whole time, one then the other napping in small bouts. One of them was always observing though, despite neither of them setting a schedule. Just, whenever one of them woke up the other went to doze off.

Watching the process seemed almost as exhausting as doing it, but by morning both Ross and Grace were once again awake and watching Aldanith. His technique was simply mesmerizing to both of them, though maybe for different reasons. It was with something approaching disappointment that the pair realized that Aldanith looked to be almost finished with his work.

The pounding of the hammer intensified shortly after sunrise. Aldanith worked as fast as one just could, refining the elegant, but deadly blade of the cleaver. Its hard surface was dark and dim - only the edge, polished and razor-sharp, reflected every light, flickering between his fingers.

He worked long - almost until night - before the blade was completed. But even before, it quickly became apparent it was a perfect weapon of ravaging, destruction, unstoppable death. The length of the blade little less than the elf's own figure, it started quite wide, its sharp side forming an elegant curve, ending in a deadly tip. Before the handle, which he strapped in black leather, a sharp spike to catch another's blade was forged, and the pummel itself was a weapon - a heavy spike of black metal.

The sun set once again, and the moon came up. Only then was Aldanith finished with his work - the cleaver was finally completed. All the fires burned out, all the steel was used...

He set the weapon down onto the anvil, and himself coiled up, almost like a huge cat, by its side. It didn't take long before he was fast asleep.

Somewhere around midday Grace finally ceased watching the Drow's work. Something about the weapon he was making just disturbed her. It seemed a weapon in the purest sense of the form, and it offended her in a way she couldn't quite understand. She went to make something to eat, and didn't really come back to the forge after that.

Ross on the other hand watched almost the entire process. He marveled at Aldanith's ability to stretch so little metal into such a large weapon. However, he was worried about the structural stability of the cleaver. He wasn't sure it would hold together under a fight...

Then again, the Drow had used liberal amounts of magic, so he was probably worrying about nothing.

When Aldanith finally finished, Ross went to find Grace. She'd been napping in the blacksmith's common room on a chair, and she awoke with a start when he shook her shoulder. "What's going on?" she asked the blacksmith with bleary eyes.

"He finished," Ross answered simply. "And then he passed out on the floor." Grace sat still for a moment, clearing her head of drowsiness before responding. "Just leave him there then."

Ross shook his head. "I've need the forge to work Grace, and he's napping right next to it."

Grace sighed, but she stood up, stretching her arms skyward as she did so. "Alright I'll move him," and so saying the half-orc walked to the forge. Sure enough, there was Aldanith completely asleep next to it. She sighed again, and lifted him up, doing her best not to wake him. If he did wake up, she'd just tell him what was going on. Otherwise, she'd just leave him on the chair where she'd been sleeping.

The slight tugging and gripping from Grace was enough to wake Aldanith. He opened his cold blue eyes, blinking in confusion, and stared into her face blankly. "The hell you doing, woman?" he hissed, right after realizing his weapon was nowhere near. Or his armor. Or...

He quickly scrambled from her arms, hissing like a wild cat, and hurried back towards the forge, to grab his armor, weapons, and with great care also his new cleaver. He can't leave that with humans...

With an expression akin to that of a very angered - and maybe a little bit embarrassed - wild, fierce... Something, he grabbed all of his belongings into his half-metal grip, and picked them up. "I want to sleep somewhere." he exclaimed.

Grace and Ross looked at each other, several potential jokes playing across both of their lips, but both tactfully didn't say any of them. Instead, Grace nodded in understanding. "Alright then, why don't you come back to my place again. I don't want you causing any more trouble for some poor, hapless innkeeper."

So saying, she stepped out of the blacksmith's shop, stopping to say good-bye to Ross on the way out, and started walking back to her house.

Accompanied by the clinking of his armor and weaponry, Aldanith half-asleep followed Grace. To carry his belongings in such a nigh-childish manner was unfitting for an assassin and mass killer like himself and yet...

Who can resist sleep, really? Something like that was beyond his capabilities, too. Why couldn't they simply let him sleep at the forge...

Grace heard a racket coming from behind her. She turned to see Aldanith hauling his things behind him with obvious difficulty. She sighed. "Well if you won't let me carry you, could you at least let me carry your stuff? I promise to be careful with it, alright?"

With a long gaze of his narrowed eyes, Aldanith eventually released a sigh, and the cold metal of his left arm moved to hand the pieces of metal that would normally connect to form an armor, encasing his form, to Grace. For the size of the pile, it was surprisingly light...

"Carry this. Don't drop any." he instructed her, very shortly and strictly, clutching his weapons - which were very lessened in number after the disappearance of several daggers, but greatly increased in size with the appearance of the cleaver - and he moved on.

Grace watched her Aldanith walk on and muttered to herself in a petulant tone "Don't drop any of it he says." She sighed. You'd think that he'd have just a bit more faith in her...

"Do you know where you're going?" she called out to him. "I mean La'marri's not huge but it's not tiny either, and it is possible to get lost."

"Like hell I don't know where I'm going!" he growled back through his clenched teeth, throwing his head back to let the unruly white hair fall back, out of his view. "I'm going to your place. I need my money." He still remembered the way was where his hopes were at.

All of a sudden, he needed it - suspicious, ain't it?

In his essence, Aldanith was a calculating, though hot-headed creature. If he could use another being for his own purposes - even if they were a friend - he'd do it in eight out of ten cases. Even if it was just something like saving money on an inn room.

Grace would have smacked her palm to her head if she wasn't carrying Aldnaith's weapons. "I mean do you remember the way back to my house?"

Seriously, why was she helping this mad-man again? She had to think for a moment before she remembered. It was because he would fight off the homicidal dark elf who was coming after him and might endanger the town.

Grace sighed. Maybe she should have kicked Aldanith out of town on the first night she met him. Well, too late now, she thought with regret.

"Off course I remember the way." he growled back, keeping his head high. He wouldn't admit something like... Not knowing the way... Off course he knew the way! To let himself drop so low as to ask her for directions to a house he's been in for so long-

Shaking his head to empty his mind, he brisked up, and continued walking. It wouldn't take so long before they'd reach the house, and he wasted no time at all, laying the armor and weapons onto the side of the bed in the guest room, and throwing his own shirt onto the floor, slumping into the covers as soon as he just could.
That night, he was happy that he did not remember his dreams. They were confused and dark, even grimmer than what his eyes saw when wide open, wide awake. He saw her, laughing into his face, and it sent a shiver down his dream self's spine, making him toss and turn within the bed. His own sword was aimed against him, and he could not stop it in its track.

Off with her head, he wanted to see it tumbling into the dirt with the long river of red of her hair mingling with the long river of red of her blood.

When he awoke, he was cold, the blanket swept to one side, and covering no more but a part of his chest and abdomen. He stared at the ceiling, grey with the dim light of the sun, peering from behind the clouds outside, a bad feeling in his gut, a bad feeling that he learned to identify as an instinctive warning, a warning telling him that something bad was happening.
He raised himself up onto his elbows, the cold metal digging into the mattress, and took a few deep breaths to cool himself down, and empty his head from the feeling of confusion, the aftermath of the night. He didn't want to think. He wanted to get up and fight. It was the only thing on his mind right now.

He let his feet slide off the bed, slowly standing up and picking the dropped shirt up. It was such a pleasing feeling, his muscles and tendons stretching as smoothly as ever, unlike the previous days, when every movement made him twitch, if he was at least capable of it.
Yet, he wasn't at peace in his soul. That has not seen peace since his youth... And even then... No, there has never been any peace. There was only war and bloodshed, there was only suffering and the struggle to escape it, there was never any peace! There was never any compassion, empathy, hope, love, dreams, faith, or enlightenment! And how could there, in that gaping hole, that endless blackness, ever be something? How could something ever fill it?
He clenched his hands around the windowsill, fingers very near digging into the wood, and he clenched his teeth tight.
He had more important things to do than ponder above the morality of his actions and the meaning of his life! For once, he wasn't fighting entirely only for himself.

Turning on his heel, he stepped towards the door, opening it, and blankly gazing out.