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Lina watched at Tyren exited the building with mild curiosity. She then glanced over and saw Lyra bolting down the mead like there was no tomorrow. "s**t! Lyra! Stop drinking! You are not old enough! How many have you had?" Lina looked at the scattered mugs on the table and glared at Clare for she knew she was the one supplying. "Damnit Clare. How many times do I have to tell you not to give her booze?"

"I feel a tingling in my fingers...I think its affecting me," Lyra murmured, staring at her hands in wonder.

"Fuuck," Lina muttered. "Get the little one drunk. And who has to take of her puking self later? Me. Well, ******** all of you." Lina was just about to continue her rant when she saw Tyren amble by with a man on her shoulder. "What the ********?" She took in the inviting glance from Tyren and sighed. "Well, my curiosity is piqued. Come on guys, lets go." She grabbed her sister by the arm and dragged her up, but not in a mean way. "Come on, drunk a**."
Red_Mage_Septavious's avatar

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Anticipation hung in the air of the otherwise somnolent inn. With the rigidity of a statue, he lay on his back, with only the blank state of the ceiling in his vision. Mindlessly he rolled a coin between the knuckles of his left hand. He had been tracking his target for some time now. The trail had let him to this inn, and here he hoped would be the final confrontation between him and the warlock he had followed. His quarry was a young necromancer by the name of Sakahagi Ishida, accused of siphoning off the life essence of those in medical wards until they died or went mad. His plan was insidious: who would notice the murder of the terminally or chronically ill? But the living pulse of the city doesn't lie: Shandon could see the flow of energy, like the life blood of the city, and he could find where things where amiss. Necromancy appears to his eyes like a giant, stagnant thrombus.
Akira had only glared at the woman, when she continued to help.
He was about to tell her to mind her own business, but was interrupted from that thought by being lifted up onto her shoulder.
He wobbled and waved his arms slightly from the balance demands. His wing stung as he flexed, and spread out full length.
Much like any other bird would do while needing to balance it's self.
Her teasing manors about his weight made him flush in the face. "I-I am suppose to be weight very little, it's so Angelic folk can fly!!" He hissed, acting as if he still had both of his wings.
It was hard for Akira to accept the fact he only had one wing... it was worse than being a fallen, in his mind.
If he were fallen, he would have no wings at all, and forget about his true being.

Being cursed with one wing, makes you remember, and long for both your wings, you can't fly, and everyone knows of your crimes.

When the stranger commented on the trouble he was in, he rolled his eyes. "Is it that obvious? Can we just find somewhere to hide? I don't want those hunters to find me." He said in a snob.
Her toothy grin also made him question her race. He never came across a human with teeth like that! Except maybe a goblin.... but those were ugly. She was pretty.


Being bounced around didn't make him very pleased, not in the slightest.
"I-it's your choice! I didn't ask for it!" He remarked, kind of strained - but at the same time worried. He was trying not to make a friend, and he never spoke this long with anything or anyone!
Shimmering crimson eyes darted around, looking at all the faces.
Which caused him to squirm from the attention.
"Miss, put me down!! I have to go hide!" He tried demanding her once more.


||Hehe xD There we go. Alittle bit more sass xD ||
Lina appeared beside them with lyra in tow, gazing up at the Angel with inquiring eyes. Her scarlet hair raced down her back in a riot of curls and she pushed it back from her face with impatient hands. "So....whats going on?"
Lyra followed her sister finding the ground sloping more dramatically then it had before. "Huh...the ground...it moves..." The drunk elve giggled and swung the hand that was clasped in her sisters merrily.
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Shandon listened to the busy sounds of the town street below- to the cheering of the pub and the motion in the streets. He fought the urge to chase his prey "He will return to the inn soon enough to gather his possessions.... patience... the right time will arise..." He closed his eyes and with a sigh felt the pulse of energy created by the life in the town and all of their motion."Angels..." he pondered with a smile "three angels... hmm." His eyes gazed unfocused at the ceiling, almost as if awaiting its answer. "They could leave me a mess to clean up after I finish Sakahagi..." he ruminated on the subject of fallen angels.

Slowly, expressionless, Shandon rose from the bed. He felt the presence of the necromancer return to the room adjacent to his own. Swiftly and efficiently he gathered his things: his cloak, his kukuri, his khopesh. Mentally he rounded up the spells he used, ritually reviewing them like a warrior applies his warpaint. Like some monstrous shadow Shandon made his way to his quarry's room. With weapon drawn and magic words upon his lips, he eased open the door, braced to confront what my lay within...
"Are you daft!" barked Tyren, her arm around him stopped the boy from fully extending his wing, "do you have a death wish?" she whispered venomously, tired of his sass already, "you're trying to hide, not expose yourself to the world. You show off that wing and those two men won't be your only trouble, so shut up and sit still." She grunted and jostled him again, "or else I just might drop you," she gave him a toothy smirk, her green eyes smoldering as she asserted her charge.

When the two other red heads wandered by she noted Lyra's drunken demenor, ]"like the mead eh? Much better than any ole' ale." She chuckled and patted the girl's head, "it seems that you hold your loquor as well as-" she stopped her self and shook her head, then looked to Lina, "so, big sister, it seems I found myself a little bird, think I'll keep him as a pet," she chortled at her own joke, "what do you think? He's a bit loud though."
((@red mage: Wanna just combine your posts together?))
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Having finally decided to come out of the woods he came upon a rather decadent looking town. "Ugh, humans and there need to show off there wealth." He decided to visit the inn for the night so as to be rid of this town as soon as possible. As he entered he noticed a rather strange sight of a man armed to the teeth marching into a room. He soon heard footsteps outside and went to the counter and ordered a room. His hair glistened in the light and everyone seemed to stare at his exposed ears.
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What lay before him was harmless enough in appearance: a thin adolescent with immaculate ivory skin –and who couldn’t have been scant older than eighteen- knelt over a beautiful glyph that shimmered brilliant emerald in the candlelight. The young man –whose India-Ink hair contrasted his white garb- looked upon the countenance of the intruder, surprise fear in the young man’s beautiful face. An ineffable tension hung in the stillness of the air floating between their gazes.

The insidiousness of the scene derived from what remained unseen and undone.

Time seemed suspended forever. In a forever longer, the intruder glided forward, and in a single, swift and powerful motion, swung his khopesh into the soft human form, the heavy tempered metal gliding thought the radiant skin as if it was no more that white rose petals. As if in slow motion Shandon watched as beautiful, warm blood dyed the terrified young face scarlet. The merciless khopesh burrowed its way into the youth’s brain- and he felt that forever no longer.

With a quiet, sickening squish Shandon retrieved the murder weapon from the face from which it was logged. The massive blow had rended the boy’s head entirely in half, gore spilling everywhere. The body that was not long ago tense with anticipation was now limp with death, and blood besmirched the green glyph that shimmered on the floor. With a soft sizzle, the light of the glyph shorted out, it’s magic dispersing. With disdain, Shandon dragged a heavy boot through the image, obliterating it into a smudge of ink and blood on the floor.

The entire scene had unfolded in silence, and it was in silence that Shandon departed, closing the door softly behind him.
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"Way to go human, killing a poor defenseless person in there own room. Im sure it makes you feel like a big man doesn't it." He shouted it so as for all to hear. He looked up at were the man had been walking by. He finished his reservation and took his room key and waited at the bottom of the stairs for his target. "What drives you to do such vile things? money? fame? power? or just for the thrill of taking another life!"
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Calm and composed, with measured steps, Shandon made his way slowly down the stairs, his boots meeting each wooden step with a deliberate, oppressive thump. His gradual descent came to a standstill a just a step above his antagonist. The drab-clad assassin read the face of the fair elvish man, evaluating the ranger’s ruby-red eyes. Almost inaudibly the tall, grizzled man cleared his throat, summoning up his voice -rough as gravel and as low as baritone. “Retribution.” he answered simply.

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