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Sparkly Fatcat

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Waking up in a strange place is difficult enough, but awakening to the sound of strange voices is even worse. Jez's sleep that night was far from sound and deep. She sits up with a groan and rubs at her mess of snowy locks as her head whirls with the psyches of the patrons of the tavern. A faint headache pounds in her temple, threatening to turn into something worse if not tended to. The teen wastes no time in scurrying across her room to her canvas backpack to fetch some pain killers. Along the way she feebly works to quiet the intruding thoughts and barely succeeds. She retreats into the bathroom for a long while, attempting to make herself presentable. After nearly an hour passes, the girl leaves the bathroom with her hair in a messy, wet bun and minimal makeup that barely covers the bags under her grey eyes. She manages to throw together a presentable outfit from her handy pack before giving her weary look once last glance in the mirror. She leaves her room, slumped in her exhaustion and letting out a prolonged yawn.

It's a surprise Jez even makes it downstairs without tripping down the steps amongst her usual clumsiness and current fatigue. Still, she finds herself stumbling into the bar area of the tavern and plopping herself onto one of the stools. But of course, she doesn't do this without a thorough reading of the people present. At least, as thorough a reading she can do in such a weary state. The girl's dim grey eyes flicker about in search of someone willing to get her coffee. Her hand reaches to her pocket where her key and some currency resides in preparation. Surprisingly, she hesitates in deciding upon her desire for coffee. In one hand, the psychic enjoys being exhausted as she receives little to no interruption from the minds of those around her. But still, she's less alert to her surroundings and such a weakness could bring about some terrible consequences. Thus, the blonde lets out a sigh and waits to be served some delicious liquid ambrosia.

"the ωєαҡ can never ғσяɢιѵє..
ғσяɢιѵєɳєss is the attribute of the sȶrσɳɢ.."
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            Wearing: This.
            With: Jezebella.
            OOC:

                      When she had gone along with it and led him from the kitchen by the hand he froze, listening intently to the room behind him and then laughing as he heard Juliet go back out into the bar to aattend to her lovely partner and Gus shook his head. “Anyways.” He said quietly, and he took her back into the kitchen to survey the carbonated mess left over from his and Juliet’s game. He laughed again and then released Charlotte’s hand and moved towards the sink where he found a bucket and other various cleaning supplies and set to work scrubbing the area affected by the sitzer and his after attack on the woman as well.

                      Once everything was squeaky clean once more, Gus looked back to Charlotte with his classic, charming smile. “As for the new appliances I think they’re great.” Gus stated, glancing around the room before dumping the bucket of hot water back into the sink and then turned and surveyed his work once more. He nodded and then gestured back out the door.

                      Shall we?” He asked before turning and sliding on back out and into the door. His eyes searched the bar for a moment before he found Jazzy and he grinned and moved over to the bar, taking a seat and motioning to Charlotte to join them. “Jazzy, how’d you sleep?” He asked, his smile broadening at the pretty little psychic.
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"When all your wishes are granted,
many of your dreams will be destroyed."


It wasn’t long before Doll was lost in her work, her ruby lips pursed at the thought of a dirty counter, an unstock bar, or an unsatisfied customer, and although the counter was cleaned, the bar was full and everyone was taken care of, Doll couldn’t shake the feeling of doing something wrong.
A sigh barely escaped her painted lips, when the former call girl realized customers were indeed waiting. She felt horrible, but instantly jumped up, a hand falling straight to her hip, as her head cocked to tilting for a moment. The stitched mouth spread wide at the sight of her new boss, and the unfelling question pinched at her brain. The gift, why?
Before the sweet Russian could ask for a drink order, Mr. Park had already placed what he wanted. Doll gave a syrupy nod, still smiling widely to her new Asian friend. Turning only slightly, she took out a clean glass, filled it with ice cubes, and poured orange juice to the brim. She then leaned over at the waist, dug in the refrigerator, and pulled out a sliced orange quarter. Doll stuck an umbrella threw it, put it in Mr. Park’s drink, and slid it across the slippery surface to her customer.
”Anything else, Mr. Park?” She asked, her sweet voice still dripping with the Eastern accent. She knew he had given her the gift, but for now, she would keep quiet about it. Of course, that didn’t change the fact that a wad of twenty’s were littered throughout her bra. She’d pay if she had too.

Wearing: Oh La' La' Location:Behind the Bar Status: Eh Feeling: Bored OCC
bickz_'s avatar

Sparkly Fatcat

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For once, Jez is taken off-guard by the sudden presence of someone. And of course, today it had to be the charming werewolf from last night. The girl's eyes widen in horror at the sight of him. She sits up pin-straight as she stares at him. She looks an utter mess right now with her hair in a half-assed bun and and dark circles under her eyes. After a few blinks, the blonde brings a shaky hand from her lap to timidly wave at Gus. The corner of her lips curls into a sad attempt at a smile as she contemplates something to say to him. She probably shouldn't tell him that she could hear him last night. And every other person in the tavern. But mostly him. That's creepy and worrisome.

"Uh, I-I slept fine. Thank you," Jez finally replies, her voice meek. She picks at her nails in her lap and twirls the metal in her lip. "C-could I get some coffee?" she blurts suddenly. A frown crosses her pink lips at the rudeness of her request. A true lady would have returned the kind question with a lovely smile before asking for a drink. But in all honesty, the Brit has never nor will ever be a "true lady." Afterall, that's why she didn't get along with her family.

"the ωєαҡ can never ғσяɢιѵє..
ғσяɢιѵєɳєss is the attribute of the sȶrσɳɢ.."
VEEB0MB3R's avatar

Newbie Regular

S e u n g - Y u n || P a r k
Co-owner of the Black Hound
The storm tiger

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"A little chat would be nice." The man asked as he took his order and pulled the little umbrella out of the drink before taking a sip. "You wouldn't mind small talk eh? товарищ." Továrišč, he called her comrade in the local dialect of Russian. Guīchéng had always had its fair share of refugees from time to time. Russians escaping the motherland were just another group that had it's language become part of the city's lexicon. "Did you like your gift?" Another sip of the sweet juice was taken. "I was going to give you a red envelope on Lunar New Year but that seem more appropriate." And it made breaking the ice much easier as it had already occured.
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            Wearing: This.
            With: Jezebella.
            OOC:

                      As she greeted him with a sleepy little wave, Gus smiled and leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the counter as she muttered about being fine – not that he believed her – and then blatantly asked for coffee and he couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Coming right up, doll.” He said with a nod before standing. “And by the way, you look positively gorgeous.” He would mention in passing as he moved into the now sparkling kitchen and set about to brew a fresh pot of coffee. While the coffee brewed he set up a tray of sugar, cream, spoons and ceramic mugs – and luckily it was one of those awesome three minuet brewers – and then transferred the coffee into a tall thermos like one might find in a restaurant.

                      Bringing these out he placed them down onto the counter in front of Jazzy. One of the mugs was moved to sit in front of her before he sat back down. “There you go.” He said with another charming smile as he sat and crossed one leg over the other, ankle meeting knee. Like Juliet, he was pretty much always happy.
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"When all your wishes are granted,
many of your dreams will be destroyed."


” товарищ”.

His dialect was perfect, which caused the red-lipped beauty to draw back for a moment. Hesitant, she drummed her pale hands on the counter, at a true loss for words. It was an odd point when the marionette had nothing to say, considering her nationality. But she regained that beauty queen smirk and quieted her drumming fingers.
”You speak good, for аутсайдера.” The Russian drew, holding out her last syllable. It was common knowledge that the tiny-framed puppet couldn’t form a sentence, at least one that was grammatically correct for the English language, but never had a butchering sound so good.
A quick green eyed smile was pointed towards Jazzy, a sign that she had received the message and would be taking care of her. Thankfully, a fresh pot of coffee was made, and within a few short seconds was piping hot in a mug, and on its way down to the shy, little girl. ”Here, Dollface.” She said, a smile still jumping from her red-tinted mouth.
”I not so good with chats. But I try.”
The sweet Easterner leaned down to grab a water bottle, only to come back up a tiny bit hesitant. She was horrid at speaking, and even if her English was up to par, there was just some information that could not be revealed. Regardless, the crimson headed, jointed Dolly, walked around the bar, and sat on the opposite side with Mr. Park.
Oh, so he had used the word gift? An eyebrow shot up once more.
”I did. Little surprised. Wondering how much I owe you for the gift.”The Eastern manikin was a little straight to the point. To her it made no sense as to why, she would get a gift, after not giving anything in return. Too bad she didn’t run the brothels anymore, then she would have something to give. Doll laughed at her own sick sense of humor, before shaking her head. ”Sorry.” she said, still shaking slightly.

Wearing: Oh La' La' Location: Next to Mr. Park at the counter. Status: Eh Feeling: Bored OCC





VEEB0MB3R
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Magnetic Prophet

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Gus was great and she felt bad about the mess they had caused in the kitchen, so when he started cleaning up, she obliged in helping. Anyways, part of it was still her mess. She hadn't fully cleaned everything from her baking adventures from earlier. It was easy enough to clean up the mess, considering the soda water had kept everything soggy and with the two of them working at it- the kitchen was back to pristine condition within an hour.

Charlotte was mildly happy that the commotion was over. Though highly entertaining and more than pleasingly fun, her sides were aching from laughter. They needed a break from it and she found herself following Gus about, with no smile on her face but radiating happiness. The conversation was incredible, especially and sadly compared to Park. Char didn't dislike Park, but he was definitely more straight forward and solemn than Gus. Plus Park had far less in common with Charlotte than Gus did. She appreciated both, but in short it was easier to talk to Gus.

Then he motioned her over to the other girl, who looked incredibly exhausted. Beautiful, but exhausted, Charlotte plopped down into a free seat and took the opportunity to munch on a sweet she had made before he disappeared; "I'm glad you think they're great. I was worried about imposing."

She popped another small, tender cookie into her mouth before slumping in the chair, a tiny smile on her face. While Gus was gone getting this girl some coffee, Charlotte awkwardly wiggled in her hair- "You know, I've heard people say that my baking completely changes moods."
Smoothly, she nudged the plate of goods closer to her. She seemed like something sweet or chocolatey would brighten her mood. ]


wearing; this.

VEEB0MB3R's avatar

Newbie Regular

S e u n g - Y u n || P a r k
Co-owner of the Black Hound
The storm tiger

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She had called him something that the Korean didn't understand. Had he have to assume it might of been a good possibility she had called him something akin to foreigner or Asian. The thought made break into a smile for a brief second. Funny how the Slavic doll sounded so elegant in her native tongue and yet what she could of said might of been the worse expletive to touch his ears. Eyes followed the well dressed woman as she went to serve the introvert looking girl. She was an odd one, and not personality wise. There was something different in her as there was in the Russian beauty attending to her.

To the layman's eye Park was busy checking out Doll as she was serving the customer. The co-owners eyes took in every curve and open patch of skin it could. Park was inspecting for any signs of violence. Scars, marred skin, remnants of where a bullet or blade had entered. Something that would be another marker to place on the map to finding out who exactly the redhead bartender was.

When she came back the man had his back to her or so he made it seem. Turning around he looked at the woman and tilted his head after she laughed. "You're English is good for a non-native speaker." He told her with a nod. "Who taught you?" Here the man expected her to lie, perfect, he needed to gauge her skill.

((I'm heading out. I'll reply to you asap tomorrow.))
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"When all your wishes are granted,
many of your dreams will be destroyed."


There was something strange about the feeling of having eyes scouring on your back. A shiver shook through her curvy spine, suddenly thankful that her skirt was long enough to hide everything she had. But with her back turned, Doll could only feel her hands shake as the coffee cup slid over the counter and over to Jezzy.
”You lie.” The Russian lady spoke, lowering her voice to a slight murmur, one that could only be heard if the listener was paying close attention. Thankfully, Doll knew how to handle this situation. ”I speak very bad English. You lie.”
Was she wrong?
No.
Doll absentmindedly let her long pale fingers run through the pin-straight hair, as her emerald eyes darted about the room. She was stuck, in a conversation she wasn’t ready to have with no easy way out. Crossing her legs, she nodded to her comrade and continued. ”I taught myself. Who taught you mother land?” She said raising an eyebrow. She had no idea he was searching for scars, but was lucky enough to have all of them hidden. But a sly smirk crept on her lips as she spoke again, ”You never answer. What I owe you?”



VEEB0MB3R


Wearing: Oh La' La' Location: Next to Mr. Park at the counter. Status: Eh Feeling: Entertained OCC Sounds Good : 3
Lady Gilaen's avatar

Wheezing Werewolf

Fiend The King
"Stop you?"

"No, I do not believe I am here to stop you. Nothing so melodramatic."

"I am here to join you, or if you seek no company, kill you and take the Priestess myself."

"I am Gulshair Al-Zawahiri Musa Nasir; First Son of Hannibal Briton - whom sits beside Lord-Father Abhorash; youngest Blood-of-Blood of the Blood Dragons and the greatest Swordsman in all of Quatar."


Mensha Na Khaine

VS - Flayer


When Adelle had turned to leave only to find that the same subject she had meant to depart from was miraculously also barring her way, she reacted on impulse. With a reflexive motion she reached one hand out to him, but not quite, Gods forbid, touching him. She stopped an inch short of his breastplate. Something within the center of her palm seemed illuminated, bright and almost searing just at the sight of it. She was no stranger to dealing with vampires or other, less complicated creatures of the undead. Not every vampire lacked a pulse these days, which only served the blur the line between what was or was not simply a walking shell. But all things had their place in this world, and she would not let her own frustration impede upon her better judgement.

She withdrew the spell that had spawned the gleaming light of power from her hand and curled her fingers into a cautious fist (not that she would do anything with it, as frail as her hands did seem). She did not so much as glance at Sen'Urith, who was sure to be chomping at the bit just for the opportunity to set upon some new found prey. She'd had enough of this nonsense.

"Well met, Gulshair Al-Zawahiri Musa Nasir; First Son of Hannibal Briton - whom sits beside Lord-Father Abhorash; youngest Blood-of-Blood of the Blood Dragons and the greatest Swordsman in all of Quatar," she spoke the title so quick and matter-of-factly that it was evident she held no personal regard for it (this vaguely disrespectful nature was not the priestess' usual character), "If it will spare us unnecessary bloodshed, then I will hear your reason for joining us. Know that I cannot pay you for your service, nor that I would trust you in the event that you follow anyway.." Now she cast a glance back at her pale companion, as if to let him know the sentiment would apply to all who were present.

It was a little strange, hearing such stern words come from such a soft and gentle voice. It seemed better suited for telling bedtime stories to children, or speaking sweet sentiments of faith to parishioners in need. However, there was no mistaking the cold look in her eye that had replaced the warmth that was usually awash about her. She wouldn't say it, but the words were practically written on her face in a hard line set across her lips indignantly, 'Do not waste my time'.
Fiend The Bunny's avatar

Dangerous Bunny

"Ah my dear, but I have no such blood to shed." While not all vampires lacked a pulse Gulshair was quite devoid of such a weakness, it was quite apparent by how the armor fit his chest it was so tight fitting there was no room for chest or gut expansion, at least not in anything resemble comfort; and thus Gulshair simply didn't breathe. In fact, Gulshair didn't even have organs, at least not in the practical sense. He had only one organ, and that was his brain and four veins which led to his syringe like k-9 fangs.

As for the holy light which briefly illuminated in her palm, if Gulshair saw it he did not react. Her question on reasoning was interesting one, and one which answer was probably a fair bit simplistic for most peoples opinions on someone willing to go to Hell, but no so dissimilar to the Elf. "My motivations are quite simple, revealed maiden, I wish to feed from one of the Lords of Hell in an effort to cure my thirst and join my Lord-Father and my individual patriarch, as well as whatever other brothers and sisters made it atop the mountain. Then where there is enough of us, we will invade and destroy the Old World, taking it for ourselves. None of your concern, I assure you. For this is neither the Old World or anywhere near it." It was rare for a man to be such forthcoming on evil plots of world conquest, but if Gulshair showed any fear of revealing it his vicious smile didn't show it.

The vampire out stretched his hands, placing them on Adelle's shoulders if she allowed it. If she had any natural holy defenses to being touched by undead, they were completely ineffective and irrelevant, Old World Vampires were not damaged by white magic or holy magic. nor were they immune to negative energy. The immediate impact was an interesting one, the sun turned his hands black within seconds, his fingers becoming fairly fragile and bony as they lightly gripped her shoulders. If she didn't allow him to grab her shoulders, he'd retract them fairly quickly to prevent further pain, but if she allowed it he'd lean toward her, not so close as to seem overtly threatening, but close enough for her to see his eyes.

Which were solid crimson and fairly large, his strong Arabic features likely once attractive now hidden deep under unsettling features. His skin was taught and transparent, the way in which it pulled over his bone and muscle seeming almost like a costume. His cheek bones were high and sharp, given him an Old World Elven appearance, not so dissimilar from Sen, though perhaps horribly more unsettling. This vampire was not the beautiful sparkle of most, nor the classy Victorian charmer who wooed women into his bed and their death.

This vampire was a powerful monster, one whose appearance was unsettling for the brave, and out right horrifying for most. "I find people grow fond and trust me given time." His hands retracted back into the shade and he returned his upright posture, and if ones eyes were keen they'd be shocked at how quickly his hands knit themselves, the skin becoming white and healthy again with a second out of the light, the muscle underneath repairing and fixing itself even faster then that.

The intent was clear; I am immortal.

Lady Gilaen

Mensha Na Khaine
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Tipsy Lunatic

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((Happy Valentine's day, everyone ^^ ))
The Drippy Sink's avatar

Familiar Phantom

A bell jingled somewhere above as the door closed behind Reive. The shop he’d just entered was dimly lit and had a peculiar odor. Various shelves reached from the floor to the ceiling and created pathways any typical shopper would have followed. Reive browsed idly for a moment, investigating a few of the assorted oddities that lined the shelves. There were skulls and organs of all shapes and sizes, preserved in varying fashions. Mummified body parts and dried leaves and flowers hung from racks strung from the ceiling. It was a true alchemist’s shop, but being a man of the physical realm and not the magical one meant the selection held little meaning to him.

He wove through the ends of the shelves and traversed the maze to find the counter behind which a heavily pierced, gothic-looking young woman stood. She was leaning over a book, her black-painted lips moving subtly as she either chewed gum or muttered the ingredients for various potions or spells. As far as Reive could tell, she was completely oblivious to his presence. So, he made his way to the counter.

”If you’re not buying anything you can leave. Don’t waste my time,” she quipped when he was just a few steps away. She still hadn’t looked up from her book. It was obvious she didn’t want to be bothered, but Reive was far from ready to walk out the door.

”Hey, I’m just looking for someone. Can you at least tell me if you’ve seen her,” he asked as he stepped up to the counter and offered her the picture.

Sea green eyes parted from the book’s aging pages. Miranda, he gathered from the name tag over her breast, chewed her gum a couple times and stared him in the eyes. Under a crown of messy, short, unnaturally black hair she wore heavy mascara and the piercing through the corner of her lower lip and eyebrow were linked by a thin chain. A shining stud in her nose drew his eyes briefly away. She never once looked at the picture.

”How much is it worth for me to tell you what you want to hear,” she asked coyly, sizing up the armed man in front of her. Her eyes traveled down his face and body, following his person until she could see the woman’s face. She noted the compound bow slung over his shoulder and the arrows it held. He used that same arm to carry a small duffel bag. A sheathed knife was attached to his left breast. His presented wrist and forearm were shielded by a leather bracer that left his fingers exposed and lead up to shoulder pads of the same material, but the way he turned his hand showed her a pair of throwing knives concealed against his wrist. It was obvious to see that he was armed, maybe a mercenary of some sort, but the color of his hair and the style he wore it in were what got her. He was such an oddity, and most certainly out of place, but she’d so many travelers like him that she really wasn’t impressed or interested. She gave her wad of gum another chew and waited for his answer.

”Look, just tell me if you’ve seen her or not. I don’t have anything to give you in return. I just need a yes or no,” he replied. Most people were easy enough to deal with and answered questions freely. Then again, that answer was usually “No”, and people that withheld information typically had at least something interesting to say. That, or they were lying and trying to cheat him.

”Then, no,” she answered with finality, accompanied by a shrug as she returned to her book. With no profit to be made, it was clear she had no interest or intent to cooperate.

Reive’s lip twitched slightly. He was irritated, no doubt, but the treatment was something he was becoming accustomed to. He rolled his shoulder to reposition his bow and shift the weight in his bag before he turned and headed for the door.

”Thanks for your time,” he called as he left the shop and stepped back into the bustling street. The crowd had thinned a bit around the doors to the shops. With the picture still in his grasp he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Self-control was something he’d been working on, but had never been much good at. He was a typically impulsive person, but rigorous training under a strict teacher had taught him the value of patience. A swipe of his hand brought the bangs that hung over his left eye behind his ear. They’d slowly slip forward to impair his vision, again, slowly filtering the world around him as he opened his eyes and looked at the picture.

”I’ll find you, Adelle,” he assured her, or maybe saying it aloud made him feel like he wasn’t just chasing a ghost. When he looked up, a flash of white caught his attention over the crowd. Some tall fellow in white was wading down the street through the crowd, and here and there he caught glimpses of a shorter, similarly-dressed figure ahead of him. They stopped suddenly, with the shorter figure ahead, as they were accosted by a contrasting individual. Reive’s entire body jolted with excitement. The robes looked exactly like what he remembered. As the smaller figure turned to face the other two, his stomach jumped up into the back of his throat. He caught only glimpses of her face, but he recognized every little detail. Staring at the same picture for a couple of months would tend to have that effect. There she was, not even twenty yards in front of him; the ever pure priestess who haunted his dreams and fantasies.

”You’re ******** kidding me,” he muttered to himself as his feet started moving on their own. He bisected the flow of the crowd, shoving people out of his way and ignoring their remarks and swears as he did so. They were completely unimportant. He pushed through the crowd and stepped into the miniature clearing that the three were standing in. People still swarmed and flowed around them. A pair of sizzling arms reached out to her, but they’d have to get in line. He sprung upon her with a jovial fervor and threw his arms around her in a flurry.

”Adelle! Holy s**t, I found you!”

It was a monstrous hug of such proportions and intensity that she would certainly never forget it. It was a hug that would make grandparents and orphaned children alike jealous, not to mention make it hard for her to breathe. For Reive, it was a conformation of his purpose, and an end to a long and weary journey.

That self control he'd been practicing? Yeah, completely out the window for the moment.
A blood dragon? Here?

Sen's smile widened until he looked like the manic offspring of an elf and a great white shark. He knew of the Blood Dragons. Corsairs spent many months at see and there was plenty of downtime. So they told stories to make the hours tick by faster, recounted raids of the past and relived their most glorious kills and plunders. It had been on Sen'Urith's hakseer that he'd first heard tales of vampires who slaked their thirst on great beasts. Their name spawned from a story about their progenitor's battle with a red dragon. They were strong warriors, some of the strongest in the Old World.

Yes, yes. He would make a fine companion. He was still a coward who feared death far too much, but he would do. Sen'Urith could forgive his pomp and ego, the man at least had martial prowess to back up his boasts. The highborn of Har'Ganeth were more for the political scheming than strength of arms. It was pitiful for a city based around Khainite worship. Sen hardly missed the false temples and weakling schemers.

This was quickly starting to become a fine raiding party. Maybe after they succeeded in slaughtering a devil lord Sen would invite them along to plunder the Empire of men with him. It would make a fine celebration. Sen stepped up beside the vampire, still grinning like a madman. It was hard to intimidate a man whose purpose in life was to kill big scary things. "The quickest way to gain a corsair's trust is to lose some coin to him." The elf held up a finger for Gulshair. "I will wager a pound of gold and twice that in silver that in the first hour of battle, I spill more blood than you." Oh yes, challenge the immortal vampire to a battle of slaughter. Good idea.

Well, certainly not a bad idea, since Sen'Urith's whole purpose in life was the death of others in the most efficient and spectacular fashion. Which was going to be very awkward for a particular green-haired ranger throwing himself out of the crowd towards Adelle in what could very easily be interpreted as an attack. Which is exactly how someone so accustomed to assassinations and coups would take it. With speed that would make even the vampire jealous, Sen'Urith plucked Reive out of the air by wrapping his hand around the ranger's throat and reversing his momentum suddenly into the dirt.

It was gonna kinda hurt.

Sen'Urith's smile disappeared as he held a razor-sharp thumbnail to Reive's jugular vein, the threat very clear even without verbal cues. "Who sent you?" The paranoid elf demanded immediately, not giving Reive time for his head to clear after being smashed into the pavement.

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