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Rothun grazes still as the young woman places the collected items into the saddlebags. Tightening the belt securely, Finch withdraws her brother's tattered note, rolls it up and pats it down into an open space of the saddlebag with two fingers. The rogue is still feeling very satisfied with her latest find. With a smug grin on her hidden face, she stretches and locks her arms behind her head, leaning from side to side in order to also stretch the sides of her body as far as her light armor allows it. It is in this moment that light brown eyes get slightly irritated by something. Looking to the eastern hills a vast flame is visible. A gust of wind makes the fire grow and some embers are seen tumbling down from the top to glide off, cooling down in the night sky. Rothun quivers slightly and paws at the ground. That fire isn’t anything good, it might even spread in the woods. Clucking her tongue softly to signal the gypsy vanner to kneel slightly, reaching up and gripping the horn of the saddle, Finch uses her left leg to propel her body upwards with her right leg sailing over to land her rear on the seat. Loosely holding the reins the rogue pushes her knees inward. Rothun’s ears perk and she raises her head more, legs trotting and lunging into a gallop to reach the bonfire which takes quite some time. Various animals have already scattered from the flames. Getting closer to the fire, smoke is detectable on her olfactory sense. The rogue slows her horse to a trot and down to a walk as they near the smoldering area. Blood and strewn supplies show that there was a struggle here, here used to being some sort of camp.

Upon wandering through the warm area, Finch spots two figures ahead. As she urges her uneasy child through the smoldering path it is clear that human bodies are being fried in the fire. Now the two figures are visible through the wavering air and trailing smoke, the young woman is now mounted ten feet away from the two. The rogue stiffens slightly as she recognizes one to be a pointed devil, the other a flustered and stressed looking man. This was not good. It is clear to Finch that Dark Elves had recently raided here and killed off all but this one man, for whatever sick reason. No matter though. There had to be a way to get the man to safety. With her bear helm shadowing over her face, Finch raises her head so that they should be able to see her face as she addresses the human man.
“Hail, sirrah. This evening does not bode well for you.”

[Happy holidays, all. I only asked for three things this year and counted eight presents for me under the tree. One of them better be a digital camera that I've been raving about the past few weeks. stressed ]

The man was rendered mute by a hand over his mouth and a blade cuddling up to his throat.
Whatever I decide to do, this man could very well die. Oh well. I'd rather he be dead then let this fiend get what it wants out of him.
Seeing the Dark Elf allows Finch a brief moment to look back in her memories when she had tracked down her brother's captors. There had only been two, roughly younger and a bit shorter then the pointed devil before her mounted self. They had babbled out an alien tongue to which Finch gladly had lunged at the nearest with her horse and slashed his face open with her boot's claws. The other was trampled to death by Rothun. There was never an explanation as to why the abduction occurred nor any trace of her brother. Until just a while ago back from that tomb of course. Keeping alert the rogue listens as the loathed Dark Elf speaks. The questions are simple, but something seems to be giving them some sort of...pull in her mind. This troubles the young woman. What further troubles her is her mare, the large beast quivers and flares her pale nostrils, ears flattening back and light blue eyes rolling as she tries to look at the flickering shadows of smoke and foliage. Rothun's uneasy motions have alarmed Finch. She automatically utters soft nonsense words of comfort that have been long used at the Durchauss farm.
"Ushshushsh...xush dil, ushsh..."
The mare snorts and paws at the dimly lit ground, her hoof's feathers dangling as she does so.

She does not want to answer to a pointed devil. Never, for they are wicked beings that truly seem to serve no purpose in the land but to take up space and pollute nearby homes. The reins are loosely gathered in her right hand, her left hand glides her steel fingers through some of Rothun's mane as she speaks and looks down at the chary mare.
"...she tells me there are more of you."
Finch looks up to glare darkly at the under-dweller. Legs slide back slightly to press on either side of Rothun's barrel with her claws, body leaning forth for balance, her left hand moves urgently and withdraws her silver shortsword. The gypsy vanner's large mass bunches beneath her, Finch's own body bracing itself. The rogue charges her mare forward suddenly, being sure the Dark Elf is more on her left, not caring whether the other human dies. Not even herself as long as she can get one good slice out of the Dark Elf. From the edges of her sight she can faintly see her bronze greaves shimmer in reflection of the large blaze, but knows that her sword is the focal point right now, aimed for the untrustworthy elf.

[I was spoiled this year. Two pairs of awesome cargo pants [I love cargo pants!], the third book in The Bartimaeus Trilogy, a digital camcorder, new shuffle [Creative product], a heavy ornament of numerous colored bells and too much candy that I won't eat anytime soon. It's sad though, I know that my parents realize they have little time to connect with me before I move out in a few years...so I've been doing my part and being nicer to them, also doing chores without being asked. That was a long OOC, sorry. What'd you get, Arcanium? The Wii makes me angry, it's too sensitive to movement and my arms tend to twitch frequently. @_@]

For a split moment, the rogue feels a wild flare of triumph. It seems as though her sword will decapitate the pointed elf beside the silenced man. In some other altered moment though, an undecipherable blur protruded from somewhere behind Rothun. Finch's eyes widen slightly as she looks on in abhorrence, the Dark Elf is knocked aside by the blur and a flurry of scrambled words. Within the next minute after the movement has stopped, Finch pulls back on the reins to cause her mare to rear with a furious neigh and turn about. A loud clang had sounded instead of flesh getting torn, the rogue believes she spotted a few sparks as well. Rothun is just as angered as her rider, both know they have missed their target. Flaring her nostrils once more the mare stomps on the ground. It nearly seems as though the young woman also gives a snort, shaking her head slightly like a dazed beast. Her bear helm would make it appear that she truly is a beast as well as her built frame. The murderous and disrespectful bonfire casts enough lighting into the camp that has been burdened with previous carnage. On the ground the blur has stilled to reveal another Dark Elf. Finch glowers at the strangely hued being, who seemed a shade lighter than a normal Dark Elf.
What is this? An enchantment, or is this scum a hybrid amongst its kind?

No matter. Pointed devil either way, must be dealt with properly. Rothun fidgets where she stands which causes the throwing knives and jewelry in her saddlebags to jingle. This pleasant chime gives the rogue a mental jolt. That very sound reminds Finch why she had ventured out tonight, to find the favored village's children gifts and a pair of pauldrons. When she had came out here she found the fire and a helpless man. Spirit fuming, it is clear that the owner should calm down before anymore rash actions are played. Finch breathes in slowly through her nostrils; thankfully a slight breeze keeps away the smoke, and exhales through her mouth. Images of lilies and grazing horses make the young woman suddenly become tranquil. The previous mentioned flower has always had the most delightful scent to her, horses have been a major part of her life and state of mind. Light brown eyes somehow look away from the pointed devil on the ground. Due to her suddenly relaxed rider, the gypsy vanner mare also begins to quiet. Finch still has her sword withdrawn however and her attention is turned to the nearby man. How would she get the danger away from him when it is directly behind him?
Somehow, that's how.
With a soft clucking of her tongue and a slight squeeze of her legs, she ushers Rothun to amble towards the man. Letting out a soft burr does the mare halt. The Dark Elf wicked scent and burning corpses is not an inviting thing. Finch looks down at the man with a determined expression, looking beyond him to leer at his restrainer. Perhaps, if the Dark Elf is spooked briefly then the man might be able to grab on to the mare, or Finch could dart to one side and haul him behind her then dashing off into the forest to get him to his home. Another plan comes into mind though. Knees draw in sharply, her right hand's steel gauntlet clanks gently as she veers the reins left to force Rothun to be directed right. The mare jumps forward shortly, Finch pulls back on the reins to make her steed stomp beside the man, the rogue gives a slight shout as she does. A silver sword tilts and points down towards the Dark Elf holding the man from behind, the rogue's eyes glint relentlessly.

[Sorry if this post is slightly rushed. Also the whole Stoneskin spell is new to me, not sure how it works so I tried to have my reply make sense.]

((I appologize for my inactivety, but I am just watching you two at the moment. I am now going to say one thing about the drow: Either your band of dark elves is slightely retarted or she is a demi-god? stare Just so you know, Drow are lethal assassins, heartless killers, and could care less about loss of life. Normally, she would have been shot by a flurry of arrows by the elves hiding in the background, regardless of honor. Drow have no true respect for one another and would steal a kill and call it an accident if they were granted the opportunity. The girl would have been dead before she was even able to say a word, regardless of how good of a fighter she is. sweatdrop ))

[That's an interesting spell, which game is it from? You have a lot of guts to snowboard. I've never tried and get dizzy just thinking about it!]

To her horror, Finch realizes that the pointed devil hastily turns the hapless man into a human shield.
"Cowardice scum!"
Furthermore her sword's tip has begun to sink in to the man's throat and this is something the young woman appreciates. It is clear there is no open way to rescue him. Her left arm works the bicep muscles to further slice open his flesh and cut the jugular. This motion is disrupted as a force knocks Finch to lean to the right, nearly falling off of Rothun. The mare is spooked by the charge from the Dark Elf and so she rears, launching the rogue out of the saddle. With a shrill neigh the painted horse veers opposite of the Dark Elf and dashes off into the woods. From the sudden jolt backwards, the silver blade was pushed aside suddenly which cut open the man's jugular. Finch has not benefited from this entirely, she had just gotten knocked down and abandoned by her own steed of course. The silver short sword has slipped from her hand to clang to the slightly rocky ground, blood framing its blade. She is stunned by a sharp pain in her back as a submerged rock impales her lower back. The rock itself is the size of a dinner plate, it is not sharp but a rock is a rock. Whether they are thrown, or landed upon they are going to cause damage. Finch in hales sharply and it would seem as though she were going to stay down for longer then intended. A thundering sound reverberates from the earth under her. The mare has turned about once she realizes that she has left her rider behind. With her ears back and head low in offense, Rothun snorts and trots to encircle the winded human. Realizing that there could be an attack any moment, Finch painfully forces herself to her feet by grabbing a hold of the mare's stirrup. She swipes up her sword and swiftly mounts Rothun again with a grimace, sounding a slight grunt of pain. There is nothing more to be done her. The gypsy vanner doesn't need any signal and so breaks into a full gallop.

Once a comfortable amount of distance is between herself and the bonfire, she slows Rothun to a walk. Finch notices that her sword is withdrawn, tightly gripped in her hand. She slips it into the sheath on her back as it can be cleansed later. Easing the mare onto the hard dirt road heading for the village of Oltine, a heavy sigh wavers from between her lips. Hopefully that man's body would be burned with those of his allies. As the painted horse keeps ambling towards the favored civilization, the rogue pats her mount's neck.
"Good girl Rothun, you're going to get a big juicy apple when we get to Untas."
Rothun replies by perking her ears forth. She has learned the term 'apple' very well. Also 'sugar' and 'carrot'. Nodding her large head slightly in agreement to a treat, the gypsy vanner starts to trot. With a light chuckle Finch pulls back gently on the reins to keep the deserving mare in a slow gait.

[Sorry for killing off that man, bit I'm very interested to know more about the process the priestesses will have to perform. 3nodding ]

((I know, I was just trying to think of a reason not to kill her off. It wouldn't be much fun if all the characters I met just died before there could be any interaction. So, yes I know. She should be dead right now, but killing off another players character isn't something you should do without their permission, and I felt that she wouldn't want to lose her character right after the rp started.))

((Well, that was taken the wrong way. I know that what you did was respectful and I encourage that. I AM the maker of the RP and if you read the rules it says no god-modding or killing of characters without the other RPers consent. I know my own rules. I just found it sort of... Reckless and completely stupid for Finch to pursue a band of dark elves even after she saw who they were. I would have pissed my pants and ran like a crack-inspired hyeena! I did not mean to be harsh, but things like that REALLY bother me. I will get along with my story once Shinzo gets back to Menzoberranzan. I don't exactly know what I am going to do with my Giant, though. sweatdrop ))

Ahead the little village of Oltine glows faintly with a few nighthawks actively burning off extra energy before getting to sleep. The children were no doubtly already tucked in their beds by now, dreaming fondly of a fairytale that served as their lullaby. Finch’s eyes water slightly as she yawns and her eyes further water as her lower back flares from this fatigued inhale. Rothun turns her head once they had entered the tranquil village, steering for the bar at once and her promised apple.
“Ushshsh...sorry girl, Untas might be asleep and I’d like to settle in, too.”
The rogue turns the reins gently and heads down the street to the inn, which is run by a family of halflings that the young woman has come to know well and respect. A stables had been established the previous fall to protect the village’s horses and ponies, as well as wanderers’ mounts. Finch dismounts her large mare with a pained groan, holding onto the reins and opening the bolted door. A few mules and ponies shuffle warily as the bear-helmed rogue walks in with her vast steed. The layer of straw on the floor keeps her boots’ claws from making any noise and so the animals aren’t too upset. At the rear half of the stables are larger stalls for larger mounts. Rothun is led into one of these more spacious compartment and the painted horse is relieved of her riding gear. With a grateful nicker the mare begins to munch on some hay in a hung trough, Finch has set all the riding gear on a wooden shelf and has begun to brush Rothun’s back. Finishing up the sides with soft strokes, the short grooming is satisfactory. Leaving the horned saddle and reins, the rogue takes the belted saddlebags with her as she locks up Rothun’s stall and exits the stable, shutting and bolting the immense door. Without anytime to even turn and wearily head for the inn, Finch tilts her head as a troubled voice calls out to her.
“Finch! You stupid girl, where were you? It’s grown very late and the children were restless for you to return. You didn’t promise them anything again, did you?”
A tickled smirk splays on her hidden face as she turns about. The stables is right next to the inn and in the tall building’s doorway is a halfling woman. Short and plump due to too many of her own cooked sweets, the maternal halfling has become like a nanny more than a friend to Finch.
“Mmm? Ah, I just took a thorny detour on my way back from a tomb, Winzig. Sorry to have kept you waiting...is my room open?”
The halfling sighs a bit and nods, “Yes, yes. No come in before you catch a cold! I’ll start a hot bath for you.”

By the time Finch was out of the wooden tub, the coals set beneath it had cooled down. After drying off, she puts on an offered cotton nightdress and rubs her towel over her damp head a few more times. Her clothes, armor and sword were taken by the kind halfling to be cleaned and dried downstairs in the lobby. Now the exhausted woman lies down into the bed on her stomach. Although the bath had eased most of her back’s pain it still is throbbing. The room is furnished simply with the bed, a chair with a small table and a dresser in case any were to ever stay longer than one night with more than a single set of clothes. Not many wanderers are around this season, and since she brings a bit of wealth to those in the village to accept it, Finch gets a free room once in awhile. She knows she should take down the next wagon she sees to pay Winzig’s family and perhaps Untas. Or maybe she’ll discover some treasure on her way to visit Hawk with the Nomads. Now the rogue is weary though, pulling the thick quilt over her body and closing her eyes to sleep.