Keithon, The Mountain Port City (Brokenwing)

OoC: Yes, it is indeed very long >.<

I stopped to rest underneath the broad leaves of a Magnolia tree, whose white flowers bloomed cheerfully in the hot air. It was not difficult to tell that the elevation had been gently falling as I followed the wide river that ran down from the Great Lake. I had been travelling through the humid forest for days now, and the climate change was starting to get under my skin. While the heat was certainly pleasant, the number of bugs had greatly increased, making for short and disturbed sleeping at night. The air here was always full of some sort of heady scent, as it had become late in the spring. And the water...it felt as if I would never have to drink again because I was inhaling so much of it.

I took my water pouch out from my leather bag as I gazed at the surrounding foilage, whose thick branches had made numerous scratches on my arms. These miniscule wounds healed quickly enough, but they were just so itchy. After taking a swig of water, I pursed my lips, glaring down at my leather pouch accusingly. "Such sour taste. It seems even the water down here is not quite as fresh, either." With a sigh, I placed it back in my bag and stood, leaning slightly on my staff. It had a soft glow in these woods, the heat of the afternoon sun filling it with energy. However sad the truth, this was my only companion, an inadament object.

Finally deciding that I was not going to get anywhere by thinking about such things, I stood up again and resumed my walk. I hated hiking through all of the Angiospermae, whose wide and serrated leaves brushed against my skin like crawling insects. Every inch of the ground was taken up by the greedy plants, making for horrible footing and slow traveling. The actual insects themselves did not help either, as I was constantly swating them away from my face.

I kept going for hours through the miserable forest until I came to a sudden ridge where the river swirled at the bottom. I noticed that the water had become considerably muddier, the bank of the river wider than it had been before. From where I was standing, there were few trees on the rocky slant into the river, and the terrain was excatly the same on the other side, forming a gently sloped fjord. Looking westward, I could see that the river soon ended at a vast body of water. There was no shore, nor any of blending into the blue, just a drop from the dark mountain rock into the foamy water crashing against it.

With wide eyes, I continued to stare at the scene, entirely breathless at such a vast body of water. Even the mountain, the great black rock, seemed tiny when compared to the endless blue. It extended out as far as I could see, ending only where it met the horizon. The light blue tint of the water was startingly bright, rivialing even that of the sky. Between the sky and the water, I could make out small white birds flying high in the sky, a few of them circling around...

Sails? Yes...that was what Hemanias had called it, that huge white fabric humans placed on their ships to harness the power of the wind. The sails on this particular ship were billowing out in graceful arcs, pushing the boat towards the shore. Its sails were supported by dark wooden...marks? No...mantles...not quite right...they were...masts! Yes, masts! Why humans had to name every strange part of their contraptions was far beyond me.

At any rate, the large ship was definately headed towards the shore. It was likely that they were stopping for supplies, or possibly even heading up the river to the lake town, Kimberton. Though the ship was a small shadow against the horizon, I was certain that it was large, but the river was wide and deep enough for a ship of great size to travel up it. In fact, it could almost be argued that the river itself was part of the Great Lake, being as large as it was. Still, such things were none of my concern. Now that I had reached the coast, I could only travel along it until I came to another city. So, the only concern I had now was how I was going to cross the river.

I gazed at the river thoughtfully, examining its current. Fairly swift and wide to swim across, but it could be done. However, the idea of getting cold and wet when circumstances were already miserable...it simply was not attrative. I could fly across, but that idea seemed a bit risky. I was standing on top of the ridge, where the trees were thin and gave little cover. If the people on the ship were looking towards the fjord, it was possible that they might be able to see the light of my wings. They did not tend to attract as much attention in daylight then they did at night, but...there was just that risk...

Who cares? It is better than getting wet. The people on their ship are not going to change course to stop and find the source of some strange light. They...probably see things like that all the time. With this thought in mind, I untied the grey cloak from around my shoulders, folding it neatly in my arms. I also had to shift the strap of my bag on my left shoulder to keep it from interfereing with my wings. Then, with a deep breath, I released my wings from my back, letting my energy flow freely. This made the air around me that much warmer, but I did not mind. Heat was my element, after all.With an insect-like scraping, I felt my wings strech from my back, relieving me as if they had been itching forever and were finally scratched. I let them flutter on my back for a moment, getting used to the feeling of them. Then, with a small jump, I hovered cautiously in the air, keeping my wings moving rapidly. It took only moments to fly across the large river, and I quickly took cover back in the trees, pulling my wings back in as I did so. They complied somewhat regretfully, and I put my cloak back on, covering my head with its hood. This was how I prefered to travel, silent and invisible.

On the other side of the fjord, I could see that the forest sloped steeply down into a valley, where the bright water licked hungirly against white sand. The shorline curved into a roughly shaped crecent moon, a natural bay shaped by nothing but the forces of air and water. From the white sand, there extended a wide valley of grass and wildflowers, which met its end against the dark trees and rocks of the mountain. Dotted within this meadow were the shapes and shadows of numerous buildings, some built on the very shore. From what I could see, they were brightly painted, springing up from the ground as if they were flowers themselves. Plumes of smoke rose from a few chimmineys, and I could hear some sort of metallic clanging and shouts ringing up into the trees. There was even wooden scaffolding built upon the water near the shore, with a few small and large ships anchored near them. None of them had the billowing sails of the one farther from the bay, but that seemed perfectly natural. There was no need to use sails so close to the coast.

All along these buildings and the shorline were people looking like tiny dots in the distance. They scampered around from here to there, always moving for one purpose or another. It had been a long time since I had seen such a large town, especially in such a lovely setting. The inhabitants here were no doubt prosperous in this fertile valley, and as a port, there would no doubt be exotic things to see there. Perhaps there were even stories...stories about where fire demons came from, and why they were here. That was why I had come all this way...

With a weary sigh, I began my long trek down to the mountain, plodding through the foilage in hopes to reach the town before nightfall...

OoC: I left this open so you can establish whatever you want with Allan (where he is, why he's here; ya know...)

Keithon, a bustling, prosperous port city filled with well over 10,000 inhabitants, yet a place Allan had never seen for himself. Oh he had heard of it, but never visited that place. But there was a good excuse for this trip: the Cassandra had been caught up in a battle with some other pirates, and she needed some repairs, as well as restocking. The crew had been out at sea for as long as supplies would allow, and some were lost in the battle, leaving the captain no choice but to dock in Keithon, being the closest port to their location. Allan was personally excited, though he didn't show this to his crew, because he'd wanted to visit Keithon for some time, after first hearing about it in a pub in England. The mountains around the city were said to be populated with fea, and other magical creatures, and this was a secret interest of Allan since childhood. His parents were strong believers in in what they saw, not what they were told, and they tried to bring Allan up the same way. After he was caught up in his first battle so many years ago, he'd forgotten about it, until he heard about Keithon. This rekindled his interest, so when he heard he'd finally be visiting the place, he was happy to be able to explore while on shore-leave.

As the ship was pulling up the wide river that led to Keithon, something caught Allan's eye: a light, small due to distance, and dimmed by the sun's own light, but still, there was a colorful light that stood out as it floated swiftly across the exceptionally clear river. Allan's heart jumped as it came to his mind that maybe it was a fey. But his attention was pulled away as Captain Wilcott, the commander of the ship, and the only person there who could tell Allan what to do, ordered him to prepare for docking. Despite being First-Mate, Allan often joined in with keeping the ship very clean, as the captain liked, and with other tasks involving the ship itself. He climbed up the rigging, and started to roll the sails, along with several other crew members. Shortly after, they were all up, and the ship was anchored into the port. Allan followed Captain Wilcott out, then immediately went for the cleanest looking pub. Before he went to search for fea, he needed a good drink, not of alcohol, but of clean water, hence his reason for looking for the cleanest pub, for only they would serve the best water.

He entered into the building, and walked over to the bartender. Due to an injury some years ago, Allan had a clear limp in his right leg. When he came to the bar, he ordered a single mug of fresh water. It was a bit costly, but Allan had more than enough for it. He took his time drinking it, savoring every cold sip of the crystal-clear water. It was no doubt the best water he'd had after he left the service of the pirate tycoon he'd worked for not so long ago. Once finished, he set the mug down on the polished wood surface of the bar, then turned to stand up. Without thinking, he stood on his right leg. He heard a crash from across the building, and while still on just his right leg, he spun around to see what the noise was. Suddenly, his leg gave out, and he fell to the ground. To everyone it seemed if he was merely clumsy, even though it was due to his injury. He was embarrassed, but didn't show this as he reached up to grab the stool and stand up again. He wasn't in pain, but his right leg was numb for a time. He slowly limped towards the door. Half way there his leg almost didn't support him in a step. He caught himself, but so did someone else. He stood up and shoved the person away, without looking.

"I have no need of your help, thank you." He looked over to see a woman, covered with a grey hooded cloak, leaning against the empty table Allan had pushed her towards. He couldn't take his eyes off her for a good moment. There was something different about her. She was very feminine, compared to the other women at the pub, and what clothes he could see on her were very different. After that moment of silence between the two, Allan jolted his head forward again, and started to leave.

OoC: Took a while, but here it is!

It had been a good, long hike before I finally reached the city, but the sun was still high in the sky. I walked among the large buildings in a daze, trying without sucess to take everything in. There was just so much here. The cobbled streets I walked upon were horribly crowded, with people and wagons rushing about like a river. Women dressed in long dresses carrying baskets of fish and bread, men dragging along their fish nets and leading wagons full of barrels and boxes, children chasing each other aross the busy street...it was chaos, and yet complete order. Everyone moved about with a purpose, going up the streets with an easy smile or determined gaze. Though there were no trees, no grass among the painted buildings and intricate windows, there was life here.

"Hey, watch it!" I barely managed to jump out of the way as an open carriage streamed by. It was the coachman dressed in black that had called out to me, a finely dressed woman sitting in its cushioned seats. I moved closer to the walls of the nearby windows to avoid such an event happening again, still trying to grasp what was going on around me. Through the windows of shops I could see the many elegant and exotic things I had been expecting, with lustrous fabrics, sweet smelling pastries, smelly fish, finely crafted metal cauldrons and pans, gleaming swords and elegantly shaped bows...oh, there were just too many to name! There were so many goods that even the large buildings could not hold them, their wares set out in boxes and carts outside of their walls. I passed these by curiously, not daring to stop should I be carried away in the river of people.

But then I saw it. I stopped dead in my tracks, right in front of a display of fruit. They were all perfectly ripe and fresh, their sweet smells and colors tickling my senses. What had drawn my attention, however, were the perfectly smooth, white melons stacked in a barrel beside them. I leaned in close to smell them, their honeied scent filling my nose. With great wonder, I took one in my hands, reveling in its smooth, cool rind.

"Hey lady, you intend to pay for that?" A stocky, brown haired man stood in the doorway of his shop, glaring pointedly at me. His mouth was turned down in a stubborn frown, as if my presence both disturbed and angered him.

"Oh...no, I-I...I was just admiring your wares." I smiled sheepishly back at the man, placing the melon back with the others. My voice came out softer than I had intended, making me wince at how weak I sounded.

"Honestly, then don't touch them." The man was still glaring at me, though his voice was not quite as hard as before. I quickly turned away from him to continue down the street, my cheeks burning. Everything felt so new here, so strange. Even the idea of money, of which I had none, was entirely foriegn. In Bren, such a thing was nearly unheard of, as we had lived off of the land, trading what goods we created for spices and whatnot. The traders that came to Bren, the only people that ever traveled through, never left us with money. We barely had enough to trade for some salt or metal tool, only able to longingly gaze at the lovely contents of their wagons. It was my father's gift to me that had attracted me to the melons, a memory that remained with me even now.

"She's our honeysuckle..." My father's gentle voice spoke from the fading recesses of my memory, stirring up the long repressed emotion I did not want to feel. To remember those times was to bring pain, and that I already had enough of. I needed to stay focused, keep my head in this strange place. Still, it was so odd...so strange that such a foriegn place would bring memories of home.

I continued to wander the streets, trying to ignore my sore feet. They needed some place to rest, if only for a moment. I began to search for some sort of pub or inn, where it was not uncommon for people to chat lightly as they took a break from the day's work. It did not take long to find such a place: a white painted building whose windows revealed common townsfolk chatting amongst themselves while sitting at tables. I stepped through the open doorway, gazing curiously at the finely carved tables and colored glasses and bottles from which the people drank. There was laughter here, light talk of the events of the day. What held my attention, however, was a man sitting at a bar on the other side of the room. He was wearing fine clothing, shaped elegantly in a way I had never seen. His dark black hair was tied back in a ponytail, a stripe of grey running down the back of his head. From his looks, the man's figure was fairly muscular, as if it had seen much action and work.

After the man took a good drink from his cup, he stood up away from the bar, as if to leave. As a woman's metal glass clattered to the floor, his head turned to the sound of it, and he fell suddenly, as if his legs could not bear his weight. With a good deal more of grace, he stood back up again and started limping towards the door which I stood by. I could not help but stare, wondering what would cause him to limp. It was clear he had injured his right leg, but by the way he walked on it...it seemed as if he was accustomed to it. That meant that it was an old wound, probably healed wrong, giving him time to adjust to the akward misplacement of his leg. I could not help but feel sorry for the man, hating to see someone in discomfort. Fate, it would seem, had denied him a good healer when he needed it the most. That seemed...almost strange for someone dressed as richly as him. Would not a rich man be able to afford a good doctor?

Before I could take more in, the man suddenly stumbled, and I instinctively rushed to him to keep him from falling. Almost immediately, the man pushed me roughly away, shoving me into a nearby table. I grasped the edge of it, using my staff to keep my balance. The man suddenly looked up, his deep green eyes lingering on me. He seemed to study me for a moment, making my stomach squeeze nervously, but he quickly turned away again, moving out of the door. Again, instinctively, I went after him to help, but I stopped myself momentarily.

He obviously does not want my help...he shoved me away, for heaven's sake! But that leg...it must be bothering him...there must be a way I can help. Ignoring my aching feet, I went after the man, reaching into my bag. I drew from it a small pouch of willow bark, which I had been saving for such an event. Quietly, and without warning, I stepped in front of the man, shoving it into his hands. "Chew on this to help the pain, when it comes again." I avoided the man's gaze as I spoke, my voice once again softer than I had intended. Without another word, I ducked away from him, embarassed, and began to walk down the street again.

Allan wasn't sure what to make of what had happened. Some woman he'd never seen before walked up to him, and threw some wood, bark specifically, into his hands, telling him to chew it. It was surely one of the most outrageous things Allan had ever heard. As she walked off Allan spoke sternly so that she'd hear him.

"There was no pain!" Allan was very independent, and didn't want help from anyone. There was no call for it, but Allan was offended by the woman, mainly for telling him to chew on wood. He'd had wood in his mouth before, and it had most certainly not relieved any pain; in-fact, it had caused some. He came after the woman with a quick pace, only slowed by his still numbed leg. He could tell she knew he was following her, and she walked faster. He wanted her attention, and regaurdless of the other people around, Allan took out one of his pistols, and fired it just behind the woman's feet. She jumped in surprise at the loud, rough pop sound, and the dirt that flew onto her leg when the bullet struck the ground. She turned, and instinctively put up her staff in a defensive manner. On the other hand, the people who once crowded the streets started running madly around, avoiding Allan and the woman. People had fought many times in these street, so everyone knew where to run, but there was still complete chaos.

Allan heard the woman say something, but her voice was drowned out by the screams and running of bystanders, most of whom had hidden themselves away, and closed up their shops. Finally everyone was gone. Even the rats had disappeared in the chaos. Allan was holding out another of his pistols, having reloaded and returned the original. He pointed it right at the woman's chest, even though she held her staff there. "What are you? No one, no human just runs up to someone and tells them to chew on a piece of wood, unless they're insane!" He tossed the bark back at her, and when it hit the ground, it kicked up a little dust. The woman picked up the bark, brushed some dirt off of it, and put it back where she had gotten it.

"I... I..." She tried to speak, but the sudden situation in such a new place was so much for her.

"You... What? You speak English, yes? Dovrei parlare un'altra lingua? Potete ora capirli?" He was impatient waiting for an answer and tried speaking Italian. He slightly relaxed his stance when he saw the the woman looked somewhat scared to him. Still he help his pistol at her, and looked her right in the eyes as she began to speak again.

I stared at the man in utter shock, still surprised by the loud noise his weapon had made. The metallic thing in his hand was no sword. It had some kind of metal tube supported by a small wooden shaft that ran down underneath it, which curved into a handle at the end, which the man held. At the end of the metal tube were two other metallic fixtures, a strange twisted piece on the top, and a small, arched piece of metal on the bottom. The man's finger lingered on the bottom fixture, and it seemed fairly safe to assume that it was the device that released the projectiles. Glancing down, I could see the shine of the one he had imbedded into the dirt, a tiny, yet menacing piece of metal.

"What are you? No one, no human just runs up to someone and tells them to chew on a piece of wood, unless they're insane!" The man sounded furious, throwing the bark onto the ground before me. I did not dare to look at him, nor reprimand him as I picked it up and placed it back in my bag. Obviously, the people here did not understand the qualities of willow bark, and this man was deeply offended by my action in giving it to him. He had even denied the pain. I had been foolish, forgetting the sense of pride that most of these nobles seemed to share.

But yet another thing had taken me off gaurd. The man's use of human...it was likely meant only as an insult, but it still hit a mark. I was certainly not human, and after spending enough time among them, their suspicion was always aroused. Generally, this was eventually ignored, as it was hard to find proof of my true nature. Only my eyes were strange, and until my wings or blood was revealed, most simply accepted the idea that I was just some sort of strange human. I could not risk revealing myself here, not when there were such unkind, easily misunderstanding people about. The stranger's metal shard had sent all of them running, but this had eliminated no threat. Now I had to deal with him.

"I... I..." I tried to apologize to the man, to explain what it was I had been trying to do, but the words refused to come. This was so confusing, with everything happening so much faster than I could process it. And if I did open my mouth, there was always a good chance that the stranger would be offended again, and he would probably use that strange metal thing. My mind was simply at a loss for what to say.

"You... What? You speak English, yes? Dovrei parlare un'altra lingua? Potete ora capirli?" The man spouted off a number of strange words, clearly becoming impatient. It was horrible. If I spoke, he was mad, if I did not speak, he was still angry. If I tried to help him, he refused, and when I left, he was furious. There just was no appeasing these people!

"I-It was willow bark...it is d-different from other w-wood. I did not mean to...I..." My voice faded pitifully, unable to form an actual sentence. I could feel my hands start to tremble, and I gripped them tightly against my staff. There was no need for any more of this. I did not want to anger the stranger, and I had already done enough damage here. It was very likely that the stranger would shoot if I tried to flee, but then again, he could if I did not. The action was worth the risk.

Without another word, I rushed away from the stranger, dodging past the wall of a nearby shop for cover. It formed a small alleyway with the building next to it, decaying crates and other filthy contents lining its walls. Despite the horrible smell, I continued to run through it, taking as many turns as possible as I went through the filthy alleyways between the buildlings. My legs carried me swiftly, my heavy breathing filling my ears. I did not look back to see if the stranger followed, for all of my concentration had to focus on getting away. How much distance I was covering was far beyond me, but I was forced to come to a sudden stop when the small street ended at a fence. It was a strong and thick thing, its plain wooden slats reaching up vertically to about seven feet. There was no getting over it wihout wings...

"Goddesses have mercy!" I whispered frantically as I turned, hoping the stranger was already too lost to meet me at the dead end.

The woman ran. She just turned and ran away. She ducked behind a wall before Allan could fire another shot at her. He started to give chase, but by the time he reached the alleyway she'd run down, he couldn't see any sign of her. He knew there was no way he could follow on foot, and so quickly examined the area for a faster method of travel. To his joy, there was a horse that was left outside in the panic. Horses weren't his thing, but he had a general idea of how to ride one. He turned the black horse to the alleyway, then with a little trouble, managed to make the horse start trotting down. He took corners slowly, but at every straight point, he went as fast as the horse would allow. It wasn't long before he slowly turned the final corner. He could see her now, thus dismounted, and she could see him. He whipped out one pistol, fired it, and put it back, then fired another, and another, repeating the process, having fired all three in mere seconds. The first struck by the woman's feet, the next on the wall to her right, and the third hit the left wall. He had fired the shots while walking closer, and wasn't far away now. He drew out his long, large-bladed pistol sword, and pointed it at her.

"Just you stop right there now. What do you think gives you the right to try to 'help' me like that? I don't need nor want your help. But you've got a problem now. You've angered the wrong guy... I'm a pirate. Do you know what that means?" Without waiting for a reply, Allan continued. "It means that I'm going to hunt you down until I've dealt with you." Allan smirked a little. "Oh, consider it a good thing you're a woman, because if you weren't... you'd be done for." Allan charged at the woman and brought the blade of his pistol sword down against the shaft of her staff. There was a beautifully harmonious ring when the two objects met, and several colorful sparks jumped from the place of contact. The woman pushed hard against Allan, and managed to push him away with a final jolt. While preoccupied with regaining his balance, Allan was caught entirely off-guard when the woman jabbed her staff into Allan's stomach, knocking him down onto his back. He grunted from the pain, and rolled over to get back up. As he got to his knees he stopped. A light shone out from behind him, then momentarily disappeared. He turned his head slowly and stood up, only to see that the woman was gone. He walked up to the fence, and looked between the slats, only somewhat surprised to see the woman running down into another crowded street. Allan was quite annoyed at this, and smashed the blade of his sword against the fence in anger. To his surprise, a few slats broke off from the force of the blow and opened a space just large enough for him to fit through. It seemed lady luck was with Allan today, and with this new confidence, he sheathed his pistol sword, and set off into the streets to find that bothersome woman.

OoC: Somewhat short, had to go >.<

"You've angered the wrong guy... I'm a pirate. Do you know what that means? It means that I'm going to hunt you down until I've dealt with you." The man's venomous words rang in my head as I ran down the street, having been able to disable him long enough to escape. That had been a risky move back there, using my wings, but it was the only way to avoid a violent confrontation. The adrenaline pumping through me at the fright of the man's shots had enabled me to release my wings faster than I ever had, and I could feel it in my blood even now. The way he had shot so close to me, so loudly...it made my body shudder just to remember the sound.

But that was not the only thing I feared now. Again, without knowing it, the pirate had hinted at something he knew nothing of. "Oh, consider it a good thing you're a woman, because if you weren't... you'd be done for." He had no way of knowing that I was no woman, but a demon of flames. My staff had hardly seemed to surprise him, though he had been so angry at the moment that it was not strange that he did not seemed bothered by it. Still, the longer he pursued me, the more he would learn, and that needed to stop. I could not have some bloodthirsty pirate chasing after me in this strange place, and...if he did manage to catch me, I shuddered to think of the things he would do. Pirates had always been something of a myth to me, a scary story that Hemanias would tell every once in a while. He spoke of their legendary robberies, their brutally murdered enemies...he had even hinted at the attrocities they commited to defensless women. How Hemanias had found these stories or wittnessed them himself, I did not know. All I knew was that he had spent a good portion of his life traveling, finally retreating to the quiet village of Bren.

But that was not what I should be thinking about. As I fled past the numerous people on the street, my heart was pounding nervously, wondering if the man would use his weapon among the crowd again. It would be difficult to aim in such a crowd, but if he came close again, there was nothing to stop him from shooting. Still, the chance of that happening, what with the man's limp, was quite small...unless he managed to get a horse again. He was resourceful and dangerous, but I could not understand why he was so intent on hunting me down. The pirate said I had angered him, hurt his pride, but why did I have to suffer for it? I had only wanted to help...

Why am I so stupid? Of all the men in the town, I chose him to try and help when there was simply no need for it. I am supposed to be avoiding contact with these people entirely, and yet I always stupidly throw myself into the middle of their violent affairs! My lungs now felt like they were on fire, and my feet ached like never before. I had spent all day walking, and all of this chasing was taking its toll on me. If this went on much longer, I would completely burn out. I needed a place to hide, to recover until the pirate lost interest and went about whatever buisness he came here for in the first place. Surely, in a town as large as this, there was such a place...

I took my gaze from the ground, desperately searching the buildings for a good place to avoid the black haired man. My eyes lingered on a shop full of shelves, all of which were covered in books. I dived inside, running past the shelves and coughing at the dust in the air. Using the last of my strength, I ran up a spiral staircase in the corner of the building, diving behind a bookshelf on the second floor. With a gasp, I leaned against it, slowly sinking onto the slatted floor.

Allan persued the woman carefully, for fear of injuring himself again. He kept himself hidden in the crowd, but his sights were right on thier mark. That woman wasn't going to get away by simply running, and it wasn't Allan's way to let someone who had insulted him get away so easily. He was a pirate, and he was set on settling matters with a duel. He wasn't a cold-blodded killer, he only wanted a fight, as was in the norm for him. Eventually he lost sight of the woman, leaving him to hunt through the crowd, and through every building. He ran into the closest one to him.

"Did a woman with a grey cloak and strange staff come in here?" The store clerk looked up and shook his head. Allan thanked the man, and ran out across the street to the next building, and again asked, "has a woman wearing a grey cloak and carrying some strange staff come in here?" Again the response was negative. He went into store after store, asking again and again. Finally he entered into a building filled with books. The place was covered in dust, as though it hadn't been entered in a long time. However, there were places, like footprints spread wide, where the dust had been disturbed. Allan guessed that this was the location of the woman. He walked quietly up a set of spiral stairs, but one step was weakened. It gave way as he stepped on it, but he was able to keep himself steady as he had been holding onto the railing. He continued up into a second floor, in which were even more bookcases. He walked through the center of the room, one step at a time. Clomp. Clomp. Clump. Clomp. Clomp. Clump. The slow, uneven walk was only made more eerie by the otherwise quite, seemingly lifeless room. As he passed each bookcase, he looked behind it to see if the woman was hiding there. After moments of this, there were only two cases left. We walked forward still, closing in on the cases, ready to look around as the back come into view, expecting to see the woman....

No one there. That left one bookcase. Only only place she could be hiding. "Tell me, madam, what is your name? I would rather not settle an issue through a duel without knowing the name of my opponent." Due to the small spaces in this room, Allan slowly pulled out his pistol sword again, making sure it scraped against its sheath with a terrifying metalic sound. He stood, and waited for a reply. He knew the woman was afriad, and wanted her to face up to him, eliminating her fears. He would never kill a woman, never do anything, too despicable, but not even a woman would escapse a duel as long as she wielded some form of a weapon.

OoC: Sorry...it may be just a little more before a fight...

BiC:

It was the crash at the stairs that alerted me to another's presence. My heart leaped at the sound, and I slowed my breathing, listening intently to the sound of feet. They started thumping softly across the floor, slowly coming closer. They paused every now and then, their uneven pace softly scraping on the floor. I did not dare peer behind the bookcase to look at who it was, but it sounded like they were searching. My pursuer had granted me only a moment's rest, and in this dim, stuffy room, I had gained very little. If I had not been so worried about the pirate man, I could have taken a liking to this place. I loved books and their wonderful stories, and under any other circumstances, I would be browsing them, not hiding behind them. The golden light of the sun sifted through the dusty air of this place, the din of the street below muffled by its thick walls. Here, in the warm silence, I could stay forever.

And then I heard the scraping. It was a metallic sound, like a sword being drawn from its sheath. The menacing noise was strangely loud, the only sound within the quiet room. And then I heard that familliar deep voice, threating and yet perfectly polite at the same time.

"Tell me, madam, what is your name? I would rather not settle an issue through a duel without knowing the name of my opponent." I winced at the sound, refusing to look up at it. The man had not moved from behind the bookcase yet, but he was only a moment away. Only a fool would not expect an attack after such an invitation, but I was loathe to accept it.

So much trouble over a bit of bark...honestly, humans are endlessly strange. But at least it sounded like he was after honorable bloodshed, if there was such a thing. He wanted a duel, some way to restore his hurt pride. What was he trying to prove? That he could overpower a woman who bore a staff, despite his miniscule limp? It was foolish and pointless, needlessly violent. I had tried to apologize to him before, but he would not accept. No, he needed suffering, a way to see my pride hurt as well. An eye for an eye. What he did not realize was that he had already crushed me. When he shoved me away when I tried to help him, refusing my touch, he had commited an act repeatedly done to me. No one wanted help from one as strange as me, no one wanted the company of a demon. Every disgusted glance, every rejection I recieved I had been given since I was a child. It bit every time, reminding me of the creature I was, but this I had grown used to. I had learned to let the pain go, to remain apathetic in the face of it. How else could I survive?

I curled my knees up against my chest, leaning my head back. The hood of my cloak fell down as I did this, falling sliently on to my shoulders. With my head resting against the bookcase, I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. In my condition, I could not fight, but I would not do so even if I were able. There was no reason for violence...not here, not ever. Let the man see me in my pitiful state, and let him be satisfied. If it is death he wishes to grant me, then let him give it freely.

Closing my eyes, I began to speak, my voice resigned and tired. "My name you would desire of me, but that you cannot have. Already, you have scorned what I offered and threatened my life. This I bear no anger against. You are not in need of help, nor assitance of any kind, and I am sorry for my impudence. But I will not give you violence. Such is not...the way I would choose. Leave me in my own state, and never again will I bother you."

"Hmph." Allan wasn't moved in the slightest by the woman's response. "So be it. I may not know your name, but I suppose a coward would prefer their identity kept hidden form those who may choose to scorn them." He was met with only more silence. "You have offended me, made me look weaker than I already do, and then made the most ridiculous comment I have ever heard. Following that which I know, I can only regain my stolen pride through defeat of the thief that took it." He made the final steps, and came around the final bookcase. He slowly placed the blade of his pistol sword against the woman's throat. As the cold, sharp steel touched her smooth skin, her entire body tensed, as if she was waiting only for the moment when he would pull the blade across... "But one cannot regain a shred of his pride back through the defeat of one who will not fight. It makes the man no better than the thief." Allan pulled the sword away safely, then put it back into its place. He held his hand out to the woman, ready to pull her up. "Come now, what will you do with my pride? Does it make you feel good that you've taken it? If so, I'm sorry but I'd very much like it back. But if not, then why keep it to yourself like this?" Allan relaxed his stance, making himself seem at least somewhat more friendly. "You seem to have no manner of ranged weapons, that I can see. As such, you have my word that I will not fire a shot. Please, just let me regain my pride?" He motioned again with his hand, waiting for the woman, who's mind was clearly occupied with the matter. Reluctantly she moved her hand towards his. When their hands met, Allan gripped hers tightly and pulled her up. He let go as soon as she was steady, then stepped back.

"Why must I feel true pain, for the sake of your pride?" The woman clearly didn't understand Allan's ways.

"The pain of an offence stabs deeper than any blade, madam. Take up you staff... and please allow me to regain my pride. It is the only way." To the woman, Allan made little sense. He seemed to be a good man inside, but despite this, his ways were violent, and destructive. He wanted honor, but could only gain it through her pain. None of it made any sense, but what else was there? There was no way over or around Allan, and only one small exit. The woman's thoughts were cut off abruptly as Allan suddenly whipped out his sword and pointed it right in her face. She jumped away, right against a wall. Allan though he had her trapped, believed that she must now battle him. He prepared to strike.

OoC: Oish, they just get shorter and shorter. My posts, that is. >_<

I narrowed my eyes at the man curiously, a strange burden lifting off my chest. He did not want to kill me, he just wanted to fight. It had been so long since I had engaged in combat not meant to kill. Violence was only useful in survival, when one needed to preserve their life. Here, it seemed that fighting granted some sort of status, as if one man being able to defeat another was actually significant. Why should I be surprised? Such was the way of men.

"In perfect honesty, I did not belive pirates had pride." I untied my cloak as I spoke, letting it fall to the ground. There was a new vigor spreading through me, untamed excitment at the thought of teaching this man a lesson. Even now, he still scorned the healing quality of my herbs, and after all of my running, he could hardly take me for a strong opponent. Already, he had a clear weakness, but I hestitated to use it. Striking his right leg was not only a low blow, but he would be expecting it. His enemies must have seen such weakness too, and as he was still alive, so he had clearly adjusted. His true weakness now was surprise. I would show him my skill with the staff, and if this brought some animal sense of pride to him, so be it. At least he would leave me alone when this was over.

Already, the pirate had crouched into a fighting stance, his sword gleaming brightly in the dim room. I smiled mildly at it for a moment, then suddenly struck, the shaft of my staff aiming for his head. His blade immediately met with mine, causing my staff to hum as our weapons locked. His block forced my staff to the left, making our lock move slightly over his shoulder.

"No more pretenses, Pirate. If violence is all you understand, then that is what you shall recieve." I suddenly shifted my grip on my staff, twisting one hand beneath it. Immediately, the force of his sword pushed one end of my staff down, as well as his blade, and the opposite end of my staff went up, slamming broadly into his face. And that was just the beginning. As he winced, I struck his left shoulder with the other end of my staff, spinning it swiftly to make the strike. Before I could leave an opening, I kicked him full in the chest, forcing him backwards.

OoC: Eh, posts don't have to be long to be good. Just hope I'm not godmoding or anything. Your turn to beat up Leonna ^^

Feeling himself fall back, Allan used the momentum to roll himself smoothly onto his back. He spun around while getting up, and at the same time, flung off his frockcoat. In a battle such as this, it would only weight him down. As the large coat hit against a case, then fell to the ground, tons of dust was kicked up. Allan stepped away from the dust to avoid opening himself to attack due to coughing, but there was just too much dust. He coughed. Through the dust the staff came flying down at him, but he side-stepped to the right, and brought his blade down on top of it, holding it to the ground. He kept his right hand on the handle of the pistol sword, then spun around, bringing his elbow down on the woman's left shoulder. She crouched to avoid the majority of the shock, but there was still pain. From this crouch, the woman forced her staff up, slamming it again into Allan's shoulder, and knocking him into a bookcase.

The two took a moment to even themselves out with the room, staying in the middle as best they could. Allan came at the woman with his sword down. He swung it up with both hands, producing a great force, which could have knocked the staff from the woman's hands. Allan switched the main blade hand from his right to his left while spinning, then brought in down from high above, making for another strong blow, but not as much so. The woman now pressed forward, bringing the bottom of her staff up, thus forcing Allan to dodge, and lose ground. Finally, after several dodges to numerous staff attacks, he pulled out a pistol, grabbed it near its muzzle, then proceeded the use the momentum of the woman's staff against her. He slashed his blade horizontally, following the motion of the staff, and locking it against a case, after which he immediately slammed to handle of his pistol into the woman's head. With her dazed for a moment, he shoved his body into hers to get to the other side of her, and give himself more room. Allan waited as the woman regained her bearings before he came again, and sheathed his pistol sword. He pulled out another pistol, holding it in the same fashion as the other, then blocked a few strikes. One strike came down especially hard and knocked one of his pistols away. Without hesitation, Allan pulled out another to replace it, then seemingly fell to the ground. He jammed a pistol butt right into the woman's lower left leg, but collapsed completely when the force of her staff unexpectedly come down on his back. Allan felt rather silly being pinned down on his belly in such a manner. The woman used the position of the staff to fling herself behind Allan, but once the action was complete, Allan had a chance to get up before the woman turned. He coughed sharply, being forced to dodge another jab, then clacked his pistol against the staff to push it away, stepping in front of the woman as he did so. There was only a few feet between them now... Who would attack next? Allan waited patiently, either for an opening, or an attack.

The vigor with which the attack began was suddenly starting to fade. I still had not quite recovered from the hit to the head, making the pirate's form even fuzzier in the dusty air. My left shoulder was throbbing, as well as my leg, unaccustomed to such pain. Every one of my muscles were sore now, horribly tired. I would not be able to withstand the assult much longer, and the man was starting to adjust to my attacks. Now it was him who held the upper hand.

Almost seeming to smell my weakness, the man pressed forward again, coming at me with his pistol raised. It was truly amazing how he so easily switched his weapons, using them with startingly powerful force. He was not even using them for their real purpose, to shoot, otherwise this duel would have been over a while ago. He was perfectly willing to start a fight without a good reason, but apparently he had to do it the 'fair' way.

As the pistol came down at me, I managed to hit it away harmlessly with a loud clang. The momement jerked both of my hands to my left side, and a little two late, I realized the other man's pistol was coming towards me. The metal made contact with my open side with a sickening thud, forcing something between a gasp and a shriek out of my mouth. Exquisitley sharp pain shot into my side, bright stars flashing before my eyes. I barely had enough reflex left to block the pirate's next swipe, but he was just moving too fast. Using both of his hands gave him alarming speed, and I could not match it in my current state. Before I could even think about the man's next blow, it came quite suddenly towards my head. Dropping my staff, I managed to grab it with both hands, my arms shaking as I tried to force it back.

But the man still had a free hand. His arm suddenly stopped resisting, and I was jerked forward by my own motion. Arching his arm, the man suddenly swung it down in front of me, jamming the length of it into my stomach. While I reeled from the air suddenly rushing out of me, the man's other weapon came down on the back of my head. My vision swirled as I gasped for air, unconsiousness suddenly much closer than I had hoped it would be.

OoC: It's not over yet... >.<

Allan had expected the woman to be down by now, but no. She was close, but still she maintain her consciousness. He put away his pistols, walked over to her, and held out his hand. "I haven't hurt you too badly, have I? I get a little carried away at times during battle. Let me help you up, please." The woman was reluctant to accept help from a man who'd just beaten the tar out of her, but she couldn't get up on her own. She took his hand, and he slowly pulled her up, making sure to support her until she could stand on her own. He stepped over to her staff, snatched it up, and handed it back to its rightful owner. "Now then, if you are ready, let us continue." The woman wasn't exactly "ready," but she took her staff and prepared for another quick succession of attacks. Allan came up swiftly with his bare hands and grabbed onto the staff's shaft, near the middle. Unbeknownst to the girl, he wasn't pushing as much as he could, but only enough to where the forces of their pushing kept the staff steady. Allan got a little careless, weakening his push without realizing it, right when the woman pushed herself harder. This forced the staff right into Allan's chest, then she yanked it up into his chin. He reeled back with a spin, and crashed into a bookcase, and knocking it over. The woman winced at the sound of the crash, but took her chance to push forward again. With the bookcase no longer standing, she had enough room to start spinning her staff around as she came at Allan. An end of the staff made solid contact with Allan's skull, after which he rolled away and stood up, rather dazed.

Allan felt like the room was swirling around, and the spinning of the staff only made things worse. He started to wobble, his right leg beginning to give way. Just as the staff came at him, he fell, barely avoiding it. Keeping to his word, he did not fire a pistol, but he did take one out and toss it blindly at the woman. It made contact with her side, but only as it brushed passed, causing no pain. However, it was enough of a distraction to allow Allan to stand up again. He focused his sights, then literally threw himself onto the woman. They both came crashing into another bookcase, and they all came to the ground. For the moment Allan was directly on top of the woman, holding her down. But the gaze of the two turned to the stairs when they heard a noise. Someone must have heard them, because a stranger popped his head up from the stairs. The man's eyes widened, then Allan looked back at the position he was in. He jumped off of the woman and turned to the man. "It... It's not what you're thinking... I-"

"Yeah, sure, alright. Not what I'm thinking, sure." The man ran away down the stairs, leaving the two alone again. Allan coughed at the awkward moment, but didn't look at the woman, who had gotten up, and was also feeling slightly awkward. Allan cleared his throat before speaking again.

"Shall, uh, shall we continue?" He pulled out two pistols again, and turned to the woman, beginning to charge again.

OoC: Sorry, short post, had to go!

I stared as the pirate charged again, barely being able to stand. Now my back was throbbing in harmony with my limbs, injured by the force I had fallen with. It would be a miracle if every inch of my skin was not covered in black and blue by the time the pirate was finished with me. Already, he had rendered me defensless twice, and he still wanted to fight. This was worse than death, it was torture! Of course, the attacking man had no idea the pain he had inflicted in knocking me down. My upper back was especially sensitve, part of it being where my wings were supposed to come out. How I was still consious was far past me, but I was ready to go. Any more of this pain and I would not even be able to stand.

"You are insane!" My voice was weak, breathless from the numerous attacks. Rather than let him charge me, I raised my staff in my hand, holding it like a spear. While there was little space between me and the pirate, I still managed to throw it effectively, hitting the man squarely in the chest. I lunged at him in a last attempt to knock him down, causing both of us to fall on the floor again. Before I could make another move, the man was suddenly on top of me again, pinning me down.

Well, that was a bad idea. I scowled up at the man's green eyes, unable to do much else. My body was too tired to fight, my mind swimming in pain. There was only one escape from here, and I could already feel it closing in on me...

"Let it be over." As everything faded around her, and her sight dimmed, the woman could hear only Allan's voice. "Release yourself, and I shall be of no more trouble to you. Sleep, and regain your own." Allan bunched up his frock-coat after retrieving it, and placed under the woman's head like a pillow. The woman was out cold, clearly from exhaustion, and would likely be like this for some time. Allan sat himself up against one of the still standing bookcases and had intended to rest himself, but something caught his eye: a piece of the white bark that the woman had tried to give him earlier. Allan looked about to make sure no one was around, and made absolutely sure the woman was unconscious before he grabbed the bark, and began to chew it. It tasted like wood. He chewed it very thoroughly but once there wasn't anything other than wood fibers to chew on, he stopped. Should he swallow it? Was he supposed to spit it out? The only instructions he had were just to chew on the bark. He figured it couldn't hurt to swallow some mere wood fibers, so he tried to swallow. Some of it got stuck in his throat and he began to choke. He coughed up the fibers, and spit them out at a wall. Maybe it is best not to swallow any more wood from now on...

Allan took a moment to himself and rested, soon drifting off. He slept for what felt like hours, when he was only out for about eleven minutes. He woke up, and his stomach grumbled. "Food." Allan was worn from the battle, and had become hungry. He got up and walked over to the stairs before realizing he felt very little in the way of aches. Maybe there really is something to that wood... Allan glanced at the woman to make sure she was still asleep, then went down the stairs, avoiding the broken step and exiting into town. Lucky for him, there was a produce stand nearby, and he had kept some coins in a pocket separate from his coat. He walked over and purchased two each of the cleanest, juiciest-looking pears and apples from the bunch, paid, and hobbled right on back to the book building.

As he came up the steps, he paused to stare at the woman. He felt a little bad, but 'comforted' himself by insisting that it was fine by his customs. He continued up into the room, and over to the woman, then sat beside her. "Madam... Maadaam." Allan spoke with his deep voice, but tried to be soft. "Madam, I've brought some food. Would you please wake up?" Allan waited several minutes before the woman finally awoke. She looked around, and soon saw Allan. Knowing she'd seen him, he held out both a pear and an apple, one in each hand. "I've bought some food. You should eat. These are for you, please take them."

"Nnn..." I groaned as I opened my eyes, the dull aches all over my body reminding me of the battle I had lost. The man had remained here for some reason, and now he was offering me fruit. I looked around the room before I answered him, trying to gauge how much time had passed. Daylight was still peering through the windows, much brighter now that many of the bookcases had been knocked down. Books were sprawled everywhere, their dull and raggedy covers littering the floor in large piles. There were even some pages that had fallen out upon the impact of falling on to the floor, revealing strange letters and diagrams delicately traced onto the yellowed papers. My gaze eventually went back to the stranger, who I really wanted to forget about. What possible interest could he have in me now?

Oh no...please do not tell me he wants to fight again. He strikes at me until I fall, pulls me up as if I were a friend, and then continues beating me. Now he offers food. Ugh, these stupid humans and their strange ways! "Please? Just what are you trying to pull here? Decide whether or not you are friend or foe!" I glared up at the man, wishing he would stop his cruel mind games. Despite the fact that I was laying down and in no condition to be making threats, I was still angry. My body was throbbing because this idiot had taken offence from a harmless offering. Even when I apologized, he put a blade to my throat, and now he suddenly thought I would appreciate some offer of his? His mannerisims were beyond belief!


I gingerly sat myself up, pulling my throbbing left leg against my chest. As I did this, the pain in my side flared suddenly, making me wince. The only other time I could remember being so sore was when Hemanias had been training me. Though old, he was swift and ruthless when he fought, and he gave me no leisure when we trained. It was a painful way to learn combat, but part of that meant being able to endure such things.


"You think I am harsh, Leonna? Wait until you venture out into the world. There, people will not hesitate to kill you. You must build up your body to withstand your foes." Hemanias's words echoed through my mind as I clenched my teeth, reminding me of the many lessons he had taught. One of them had been being able to accept defeat with grace.


Well, you never told me I would be fighting pirates, I bitterly thought to myself. Very pointedly, I ignored the man and attempted to stand. It took only a second to realize how foolish this was, for as I got on my aching feet, my head swam and I lost balance. I fell forward onto the floor, banging my already throbbing leg on the solid wooden floor. The pain flashed into a horrible burst of agony, and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. Despite my strong desire to leave, I was obviously not going to be moving anywhere soon. It would be at least a good hour or so before my wounds healed enough to walk.

"Madam, I no longer have a quarrel with you. I got back what you took, and now it's over. If you wish me to leave, I will comply, but I doubt you'd be safe. I've been to places like this. Other men will not show you a single shred of respect, and will not hesitate to commit heinous acts against you in your weakened state." Allan stood, expecting the woman to simply send him away for the trouble he'd caused, but he heard steps from the first floor. He creeped over to the stairs and looked down. Inside he saw two men. One was a burly fellow who had a pistol and cutlass, while the other was slimmer and carried a sabre. "As I was saying," he whispered to the woman, "there are men who are very willing to take advantage of you." Allan quickly and quietly picked up his dropped pistol, and thought to himself. Did they see me come in with food? They must have... He stood in-front of the woman, who was clearly unable to get up, and waited for the men to come up.

Moments later the head of the slimmer man came up. "Hey, looky 'ere Bralam, a couple! Is that yer woman, guy?" Allan frowned at the man.

"No, she is not. But I must say that I doubt that she is yours either."

"Eh-heh, if she ain't yers, then I'll take 'er."

"I cannot allow you to do so. She needs care, and the likes of you can't provide such a thing." The two men were now both standing across the room from Allan, glaring at him.

"Hey, Nemin, this guy thinks he's a toughie! War-har-har! I got this 'ere cutlass, ya see? I'mma cut you to ribbons." Allan near-instantly pulled the pistol off his chest and aimed at Bralam.

"I've got seven pistol with me, plus a sword of my own. You'd do best to leave now."

"Oi, this guys a real hoot, eh Bralam? Hey now, there are two of us guy, you can't really win, can ya?"

"Sir... Turn and leave, or tubby here is going down."

"Tubby!? Screw this!" Bralam pulled out his own pistol and charged at Allan, while Nemin came up on the other side. Allan discharged his pistol, sending Bralam's out of his hand. This didn't seem to phase him, as he kept coming. Allan pulled out his pistol sword and blocked both attacks. Bralam and Nemin both pressed hard against Allan, bringing him to his knees quickly. Suddenly Nemin was sent back as the woman's crystal-like staff flew squarely into his face. This pulled away Bralam's attention, too, and allowed Allan to push him off. He pulled out another pistol and shot Bralam's left arm, making him drop his cutlass. Allan ran up and used the butt-end of his pistol to smack Bralam's head, sending him reeling. Nemin had recovered in this time and ran for Allan, who dodged the attack. He slammed his blade into Nemin's stomach, but it didn't cut him much. Nemin retaliated by slamming his own blade into Allan's right leg, very close to his scar. Allan dropped his pistol and sword as he fell to the ground in agony. He seemed helpless to Nemin, so he took a chance and raised his blade up high. But Allan was the one who really had the chance. He faced the man, pulled out a pistol, poked it into his stomach, and fired. Nemin froze before taking a step back, and soon stumbled to the ground, coughing up blood.

All three men were stuck on the ground now. Bralam was knocked out, Nemin was dying, and Allan's leg was injured. Allan turned his head to the woman, his eyes asking for her help. "Please..." He could get out just the one word between his grunts of pain.

He protected me...

I dragged myself over to the man, ignoring the protests of my body. Somehow he had overcome his pride enough to ask for help, and refusing would be a truly cruel thing to do. I could see that his right leg was bleeding profusely, the result of a stab wound. From my limited point of view, I had not seen much of the fight, but I had heard the men's words, as well as the pirate's, and had even been able to lend what aid I could in such a state. Now knowing that there were such men, it seemed that perhaps pirates did indeed hold more honor than normal men.

"Hold still." I spoke gently, calm despite the situation. When there were wounded to take care of, panic and time were the true enemies. Herbs and bandages could stop the pirate's bleeding, but the attackers had unwittingly struck the old wound. If it went deep enough to cause more damage, it was likely that the man may no longer have the ability to use his right leg. In order to heal him well enough, I would need use of my magic.


But he is a stanger, a pirate for heaven's sake! Who knows what he will do when he is healed and I am too weak to protect myself? But such things were irrelavant right now. The man had offered his life to protect me when he could have just handed me over. Despite his stupid, violent ways, he deserved help. So, with careful hands, I grasped his leg, gingerly probing the wound to see if there were disfigured ligaments, as I had guessed might be the case of the limp. What I found, however, was this was not the case. His bone was fragmented, unwhole, as if a blade had cut into part of it and never quite healed. A very serious wound to heal, but not impossible.


I lifted one of my hands a few inches above the wound, ignoring the fact that it was now covered in his dark red blood. What I was about to do would likely drain a good deal of my energy, preventing me from healing my own wounds, but this did not cause me to hesitate. I summoned forth my flame, using all of my concentration to form it into a gentle ball of energy in my extended palm. A gentle heat started to eminate from it, a bright white light covering my hand. I sent this energy into the man's leg, watching as the blood stopped flowing and started to scab. With painful slowness, the wound began to close, the tissue mending together on its own. I started to shake as the energy left me, feeling weaker with each passing moment, but I did not stop. It was not until the man's skin was entirely closed that I stopped, leaving only a small, star shaped scar where the wound had been.


Breathing heavily, I reached into my bag, pulling out a small bottle tied with a yellow string. I shakily opened it, pouring a good dab of the golden oil out of it on my hand. This I rubbed onto the skin where the wound had been, which would help relieve much of the soreness that would remain in the healed tissue. "You will want to keep that out of the sun for a while. The wort will make it easy to burn."

I then turned my attention to myself, gazing placidly at my hands. During the healing process, the blood on them had dried and fallen off, rendering them clean again. I slipped off the boot and sock on my left leg, exposing the shin where the pirate had struck. There was a solid black smudge right in the middle of it, the source of the majority of my pain. I rubbed a good gob of my wort on it, knowing it would relieve some of the pain. My side was no longer giving me trouble, but it would still be some time before I could effectively move again...

Allan watched the woman create a strange ball of light with merely her hands. He was shocked by this, and it showed. His faced changed even more when she sent the light into his leg, and it began to heal amazingly fast. However, his shocked expression turned to one of relaxation as his wound healed. The light had sent a soothing wave of energy through his entire body, sending him to a half-sleeping state. After some time, maybe seconds, maybe minutes, Allan couldn't tell, he sat himself up and looked at the woman. She had taken off the boot on her left leg, revealing the nasty bruise that Allan had made. He followed her leg from the injury, up and up, until he came to her face. Her eyes were currently closed, but she was breathing too heavily to be asleep. He turned his head away and spoke.

"Madam, it's been clear that you aren't quite human... But I'd like to know... I mean, what you are. Are you perhaps... a Fae of some sort? I'd have been quite a fool if you are. You see, I've always had a fascination with Fae, and always wanted to meet one. How silly it would be to have fought the first one I've met, ha-ha..." Allan laughed a bit uneasily and looked over at the woman. She turned her head, and opened her mouth as if to speak, but suddenly her eyes widened, and she pointed behind Allan. Bralam had apparently woken up a moment ago, for he was walking right over to Allan. He closed in, and was about to throw a punch at him, but Allan rolled away, grabbed a pistol, and fired it into Bralam's leg. He instantly took out another, and aimed it again, but the woman interrupted his action.

"Stop this! No more death is needed!"

"But..." Allan wanted to protest, but the frown in the woman's face was too much. He looked at Bralam, who was down on one knee, then lowered his pistol. He put his head down, but brought it back up again only a moment later to see Bralam charging at him. He raised his pistol in an instant and fired a shot directly into Bralam's heart, bringing him to the ground with a loud thud. Allan put his pistol away, then slowly turned his face away from the woman. "Madam... I'm sorry. I... I had to." Without giving her a chance to reply, Allan managed to stand and pick up his things. He replaced his frock-coat on his back, facing away from the woman. "Oh yes, and the name's Allan. Allan BloodBird. Good day to you, madam." Allan quickly pulled out a smoke bomb and smashed it into the ground. Half of the room was quickly filled with a thick, grey smoke that completely obscured the woman's vision, as if it were a solid wall.

When the smoke cleared there was nothing but a dusty second floor room, filled with some old bookcases.