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((*Blows the dust off her roleplay* Okay, time for me to stop being lazy...))

"How about some shelter first?" asked Ash'rael, pointing to the trees. The water was coming down in thick, fire suffocating sheets now. The wide leaves of the trees did not divert the water, so much as channel it.

"'K!" Atnae shouted, though she really didn't need to. "We'll have to slide down though, so be careful of your route! I'll find a good place to go down." The dryad glance over her shoulder at Fo'Ash'rael. She was pretty sure that most humans didn't act like her, so twitchy! Of course, she didn't have much experience with humans, and didn't want to seem rude to her new friend.

Carefully walking on the vines in front of Ash'rael, Atnae searched for a smooth way down. She had tried talking to the vines, but it was as though they were mindless creatures, completely unlike the dim trees. Sighing with relief, she spotted a clear section. "Fo'Ash! I found a spot!" She called, not even looking back.

She secured her pack, and jumped.

The rush of the wind, green blurring all around her.

Speed.

Small bumps almost sending her flying off the smooth surface.

Faster.

Faster.

A dull, throbbing THUMP! As she skidded on the soggy forest floor.

Stop.

"Careful! It's a bit fast!"

Atnae stared blankly at the two figures she hadn't noticed before. She was good at not noticing things, almost as good as most people were at noticing them. She heard the little lizard man shouting at her, but she couldn't make out the words. "Could you repeat that?" She shouted back to him.

She turned to the shiney girl. She wasn't sure why a human would be shiney, though. Perhaps she ate something...Atnae shrugged it off. Company was company, and she liked having company. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there...I'm Fa'Atnae!"

"I said, do you know where there's shelter?" Trask shouted, or at least tried. He tripped and fell into a muddy puddle greatly hampering his attempts to say this. He stood and dried himself off, only to be wetted once more by the rain. Today was not his day.

What am I thinking? If these people had any shelter, they'd be there, and not walking about in this torrential rain. The more Trask thought about his situation, the more dismal it seemed. Thusly, he resolved not to think about his situation, and instead focused on the fact that the three figures seemed to be women--not of his race, but still...

Trying not to touch the ground, Trask bounded off tree trunks and roots, navigating his way to Fa'Atnae. Just a little to the left and... Trask "accidentally" bumped into her, while jumping from root to root.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that. It's just...I can't move very quickly unless I jump around like that, and I'm not very accurate. This may seem like an odd request, but....could you let me ride in a pocket?"

Curiously, this was not the first time Trask had made such a request. The last girl had thrown him across the room (just his luck that she would be afraid of reptiles) but for all those previous, it was a 50/50 chance, in general. In spirit, Trask crossed his fingers.

"A...a bug?!" Trask's face contorted in surprise. Never before had he been mistaken for a bug. Okay... I'll grant her that I'm small and was moving rather quickly, but even though it's dark and torrentially rainy, and I'm covered in water, and...

Given the situation, her confusion was perfectly understandable, at least to Trask. Wiping the water from his face--in vain, as he again forgot that it was still raining--the young lizardman, spoke louder and lower, attempting to accomodate the girl's larger ears.

"Haha! The poor visibility must have obscured your vision. I'm sorry, but I should have introduced myself properly. I a Dzali, Trask Telor, of Telor & Telor Trading. We ease burdens of scarcity around the world by--but enough about that." Clearly, he had been spending far too much time working recently. "Might I ask your name, young miss?"

A figure, shaded by the cover of trees and the storm above, shrouded in shadows, watched, golden eyes afix upon the group below. The mass of shadows pulsated slowly with each breath taken by whatever it was...

A few locks of white hair flowed out from under the shadows, though they were brushed back in by a dark-skinned hand. A few shafts of light allowed a bit of this figure to be seen more. It was covered in a brown, hooded cloak, which was wrapped tightly around the individual, as if he were a monk. However, monks didn't often hide in trees...

His gaze was emotionless, as the black-skinned lips parted in a bit of a grin, exposing the starkly contrasting white teeth beneath. Concealed by the cloak were two swords, one on each side, that did not clap against his chain leggings or mail.

How would these below react to a Mirrian such as he? He was a long way from home, that was for sure, and he was considered a heretic by default to most sun-worshippers as he called them.

'I would be more of an enemy to them than anything...' The Mirrian thought. 'I, Valenarr, once a great warrior of the Mirrians, have disgraced my family and deserve nothing more than this...'

Valenarr's arms, which were covered by the thick, baggy sleeves of the cloak, anchored him to the tree, one arm holding the branch he crouched upon, the other used for balanced, placed upon the trunk of the tree. Leaves and such also served to obscure him, along with the rain and darkness.

Valenarr was unsure why these few people had attracted his attention. He had been merely navigating the treetops, finding them like the watery bottoms of the underground caverns he once was welcomed in by others of his kind, when he saw them. He had no idea what they were doing and had never been around other races before. He had heard stories, of course, but he had no idea what to expect from these individuals.

'The DeMirro family did not give birth to cowards...' He said, taking a good look at himself. He hid in the trees like a common thief. 'But for now, perhaps it is best for me to remain hidden. I shall not strike until I am noticed, if I must strike.' He looked down at the cloak. Slipping his arm that was not used for balance back into the cloak, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his katana. If need be, he would slice through his cloak to free his other arm and ready himself. He would never wear his swords on the outside. To his race, it was rude and a sign of immaturity, a way of showing off.

To most other races, it was most likely a sign of shady dealings... Valenarr didn't know this. So, intently, he watched those below him, not making a sound...

Valenarr scowled when the one called to him. He contemplated many things. Interacting, talking, perhaps even killing them. He couldn't decide. However, they did not appear hostile, and striking down those that were unarmed would merely give people more of a reason to hate him, and it wouldn't get him back into his underground homeland.

So, instead, he leapt down near the group, landing nearly on all fours, though one arm was still inside his cloak, on the hilt of his magical katana. He stood up, his cloak making him appear like a grim-reaperish figure, standing, face in shadows.

"Greetings." Was the only word he could think to say at the moment. He woudl soon find out if they were hostile or not. He almost hoped they were. He needed to vent some pent up rage, some anger that had not an outlet for some time. It needed to get out, and preferably by means of his blade...