Leaning back in his chair at the bar's corner table, Brann glanced down at the crumpled message for the seventh time in as many minutes. It was an interesting puzzle, speaking of some talisman or artifact that the "Ancients" had hidden away before the Races as he knew them existed. The immortal had never heard of this Azazel's Stone before, or any of the other things that it rather cryptically mentioned, but he'd seen enough of human nature to know that this didn't matter - the short-lived fools had a habit of re-naming things that they didn't understand. It was one reason demons loved working through them so much; feed them a false name, an alias of some kind, and the mortals would never realise they were working on behalf of their worst nightmare.

The powerful fire-mage absently ran one finger along the last line, stopping at the incomplete word. What could it mean? Fall? Perhaps. Flee? Some of the talismans from the days before humanity could certainly do that, although the practice was frowned upon these days - too much power that could change hands easily. Fail? If the mystery messanger meant fail in it's purpose or fail to work, that was another possibility, although none of the talismans he knew to be missing were vital enough to warrant the warning. Most definitely a puzzle...but one he could ill afford the time to unravel. Perhaps a few days, but his search was far more important than any talisman, no matter how old or powerful it was.

The door to the tavern banged open and interrupted Brann's musings. The arrival of yet another mortal would not ordinarily warrant any attention on his part, but the visitor's aura wasn't human. Non-humans in such an openly human hovel like this one merited at least a moment's attention, and more if they were a possible threat.

But the figure that wound it's way through the drooling human males took up more than just a moment of the immortal's time.

She was an elf.

A growl escaped from the back of Brann's throat, and the untouched ale sitting in front of him caught fire. If this female were anything like the other elves that he'd met during his long, long lifetime, she'd be an arrogant little brat who never knew when she was out of her depth, always happy to poke her nose into matters that didn't concern her. Worse, with her and her magic in the area - he could feel the power pulsing within her body - his search would be made all the more complicated.

Brann sighed, and turned his flaming ale into a tankard of water so he could actually have a drink. He was barely a week into the search, and he was already going to be waylaid. Typical. And the others always wondered why he had such a low opinion of mortals.

At least it would give him more time to figure out the puzzle he'd been given.

__________________


Chetarren Caesar||Ilyena||Laurana||Brann
"I can't be bothered to procrastinate. Maybe I'll do it later." - Pandaemonium
"Ugh! Rew again?? He's not even in this damned clan!" - Din