Half Moon Inn: Part 6

[Zarae Zyne Kilanatlar]

((been wondering where all yall were. check in often to see.
sorry not been around, classes and some real life struggles kicking my butt, majorly. but anyway...
had a post, but the stupid computer messed it up or lost it and it didnt show up. so gave up on that one.))

"[color=#BF0000:jjzjvx10]hard to go wrong on who you follow. I met, and by 'met' I mean had to run from[/color:jjzjvx10]," a half chuckle at the humorous memory, [color=#BF0000:jjzjvx10]"a half-breed, who followed no deity. and I know people who follow many or honor others. Sometimes I wonder if they are not the same all across the multiverse with different names...[/color:jjzjvx10]?" then shook the thoughts not wanting to go into philosophy.

the rogue fell quiet as she listened to everything, her hand had been rifling thru one of the bags pulling out a pouch containing numerous games, cards, dice she had 'collected' from her travels. She could understand the struggle with a dark savage side within ones self. the pull and lust of power, to be stronger than your enemies and crush them in vengence. the slippery slope of no return within view.
Zarae gave a comforting smile as best she could, then as her usual, "[color=#BF0000:jjzjvx10]you are not alone[/color:jjzjvx10]," about all she could muster.

[Aylstra Illianniis]

"Daddy, didn't you meet a guy like that who was sometimes a rat?" Asks the little boy, cocking his head to the side in thought.

"Yes, and I once met a, ahem, 'charming' lady who was also 'gifted' with the shape of a wolf. NOT the sort of woman I'd want to get on the bad side of, though- she'd be likely to bite your head off!" Lothir says with a merry laugh. "Truly, though, friend Rahj, it is nothing to be ashamed of, unless used for dark purposes. Many Selunites choose the path of the hunter, or so I've heard. Some call them Moon Wolves, I think. And of course, there are the Lythari, elves who have the power to become such, as well. They are considered divinely gifted by the Tel'Quessiri."

He turns and regards Zarae for a moment. "You know, you are partly right, milady. I have discovered that many of the powers I knew on my own world are to be found here as well, though under somewhat different names. The goddess you here call Lolth, for one. And my own Moondancer, and several others known to evles or dwarves. Even the great Io, creator of the dragons, is known there, under another name." He notes the gaming items she has revealed, and grins. "Ah, another who apreciates Lady Luck's blessings? I spent many enjoyable hours with my fellow students of Telamurin D'Thalack playing games of chance- and winning more often than not, I might add. WITHOUT cheating, mind."

[Millek]

Ears perk up, and Rahj's smile returns, purring, "It gladdens this one's heart that he has found such companions. In Tamriel, while Sithis is a being of a separate nature, the gods, are what we call The Divines. And then there are the Daedra. While The Divines rule over domains of goodly things, some of the Daedric Princes are evil, some are unpredictable but usually harmless, and some are not entirely evil. Rahj was told, about two hundred years ago, when the end of the Third Era came about, Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedric Prince of Destruction, with the aid of his cult, opened portals into Tamriel, intending to invade and conquer all the world. This has only made association with Daedra less acceptable. Now instead of it being frowned upon, it is illegal in most cities, and the priesthood of one of The Divines, has taken to openly hunting Daedra and any who consort with them."

He considers the dice a moment, then goes on, "This one is not ashamed of his gift, but it seems wrong that if savage claws should rend and tear at those who threaten innocents, the bearer of those claws should be hated or feared. Just once, he would like to let loose, tear asunder attackers, save innocents, and be judge for actions, not appearances."

Again his eyes stray toward the dice, "Lady Luck? Haha, in Tamriel, she has a name too, she is the Daedric Princess, Nocturnal, Mistress of Shadow, patron god of thieves. Rahj's sister, last he heard, works very closely with Nocturnal. He winks at Zarae, "You are most fortunate, Ra'Zhin Dar is not here, her hands are quick, quicker than Rahj's, he has lost much coin to her in the past."

[Zarae Zyne Kilanatlar]

((if this is unacceptable, will edit. but thought it would be funny to add maybe. after all, Zarae is a klepto, and has [i:3cakotpp]alot [/i:3cakotpp]of skills in pick-pocketing and stealth))

Zarae gave a sly grin upon the notice of the games, "[color=#BF0000:3cakotpp]cheat[/color:3cakotpp]?" with fake innocence, "[color=#BF0000:3cakotpp]why would I ever do such a thing[/color:3cakotpp]?" knowing that the bard knew her pretty well from their previous travels. then chuckled emphasizing her smirk twords Rahj. She set the deck before them after a good shuffle with the dice beside, wanting to see if they might be up for a game, "[color=#BF0000:3cakotpp]the concept of 'stealing' is subjective. in my defense. It is not always my fault; the shiney calls to me. Tho I would like to try a game with your sister[/color:3cakotpp]," handing back on of his items she pocketed (a coin?).
She then looked twords Lothir, "[color=#BF0000:3cakotpp]and that alien gun would have still been in my possession if some 'male[/color:3cakotpp]'" faking anger/hurt twords the bard, "[color=#BF0000:3cakotpp]hadnt messed me up[/color:3cakotpp]," crossing her arms with a pout.

[Aylstra Illianniis]

"And you'd likely have gotten yourself of someone else hurt by not knowing how to use it, if I hadn't." He retorts with a smug half-smile. He laughs softly, and indicates the cards. "I wasn't implying that you would, Zarae, nor anyone else here. Only that I've had prior experience with those who do, and that I can hold my own in any game of chance. After all, what is life but the ultimate game of chance? We all are one throw of the dice from great happiness or loss at any given moment of our lives." He seems to be wazing philosophical, and raises his glass to inspect the contents. "I've always believed that happiness is there for the taking; one must simply reach out and grab it."

To Rahj, he says, "Things are very different here. With so many sentient races, appearances mean little to the common folk, though there are some exceptions to this. But in the cities, at least, most folk are willing to give a person a chance before judging them, no matter how strange they appear. Even demon half-bloods are treated with some degree of respect and tolerance. It is only among folk who deal with the "evil" races frequently that such judgements of a person's worth are made before their true character is known."

Looking down at the cards again, he grins wolfishly, and asks, "Tell me, have any of you ever heard of a game called 'Eight-Legs'? It was quite popular among the students at the Academy when I was there."

[Agmasek]

This seems an ideal time to seize upon the opportunity of everyone distracted on Rahj's tales of home, though they're fascinating, she is Hengeyokai, and for that matter a fox, trickery and play are ever in her nature. Out she flicks a folding fan, with a colorful print depicting the Tien Lung, a long, golden, serpentine, wingless dragon of foreign lands, and begins fanning herself. It's all a facade however, shielding most of her face from sight of anyone at the table, and only those actually paying her much attention may notice her fingers elongate some, nails become claws, and russet fur covering pale skin. The changes are gradual, graceful, and not at all the violent changes of lycanthropy. Anyone viewing her from behind, would have no trouble noticing a human head turn to the likeness of a fox, and sprouting of those big ears, nor have difficulty spotting the fluffy duet of fox tails curling 'round her hips. Even once the change is complete though, she does naught to draw attention to herself, except that is, to direct her Fox Magic ability on the two children, an illusion to the perceptions of only those targeted, showing little more than dozens of wild foxes, sitting, laying, standing, sleeping or even at play all around them. Like many illusions, how real they are to those perceiving them depends on believing the illusion, and should it fail, relatively harmless.

As a nomad by necessity, she has no children, and yet loves their smiles, enough to risk exposure of her nature, sometimes enough to steal the mistreated ones occasionally found. These ones, not the latter, Yonmei's heart still yearns for her to make them smile. And in part she hopes for them to be first to discover her transformation.

[Ogrim]

(since all other RPs I've been in have ground to a halt, hopefully won't happen here.)

Of all the curious figures wandering in, now comes one not so strange really, tall, lean, and slender, a figure in a brown hooded robe, and walking along with a gnarled wooden staff, with a subtly glowing crystal affixed to the top of it, the physique clearly male, the skin on his exposed hand, pale, and the acute, slender angles of the portion of his face, showing, hinting at an elf. The staff would signify this man to be a mage of some sort in the eyes of most, and there is a feel of power around him to be sure.

Little mind is payed to the gathering of dark elves, however, marking him as strange for a surface elf, a fake, or one of those unique few who reserve judgment of people for his own conclusions of their character. At an empty table he pauses, inspects the surface with a pass of his fingers, then demonstrates some of that power of his, not even uttering a word, displaying a spell component, or making an arcane gesture, his attention shoots across the room, to a cleaning rag carried by one of the serving ladies, and it is drawn hurtling across the room, and by the same invisible force, it rapidly wipes and cleans the table and chairs to his satisfaction, before it is sent back to the startled woman.

Finally he sits, and pulls back his hood, blonde hair, emerald green eyes, and a high forehead shown, betraying all the signs of a high elf. His staff is leaned against his chair, and then he produces from in those robes, a quill, stoppered inkwell, and a leather-bound old book with the better portion of its pages still empty. The curious part is everything is scribed in draconic. Native language of dragons, also a favored language among wizards for scribing secret things they don't wish just anyone to go reading. In truth, it is merely a journal, logs of his travels, and a very dry read. A bard might enjoy making the stories more interesting, provided a chance to read it. Now he makes another short entry, translating as follows:

[quote:30z9ba40]Day two-hundred twenty five, of fifty-third year. Stopping at quaint little inn called The Half Moon, for rest, supplies, food, and directions. More Drow on the surface, hard to be sure of the good from bad. Missing the security of my mountain, and pet elementals. Next time, travel with gnomes, or dwarves. Decent company, and too honorable to repeat secrets shared in confidence.[/quote:30z9ba40]

Then the book is closed, and along with quill and ink, vanish back into his robes. A weary, heavy sigh escapes him, then he waves for one of the serving ladies to come take his order, asking once she's there, [color=#00BF40:30z9ba40]"What have you here, for fellow with a mighty appetite?"[/color:30z9ba40] Arlahn does his best, to maintain the guise of a High Elf, but the magical facade, hiding the juvenile dragon does nothing to lessen a hunger that could go through two cattle right down to polishing the bones clean, with ease.

[Millek]

A weary yawn rises out of Rahj, and he declines the card game, as well, as lets the clever elf keep that coin. He arises from the table and ventures toward the door, "Rahj goes to rest weary bones, and keep watch. You should rest too, this one is eager for the roads he has not yet traveled, and meet dwarves. Rahj is indeed curious to learn many things, if they will share." And with that, he slips outdoors, for fresh air, and the nearest suitable tree to climb into and recline on a low branch. There in private he prays, of course to the 'god being' of his world, Hircine, to guide him home, but also to any who may be listening to the strange visitor to the realms of Faerun, for help finding his way, if he cannot find a road home.

With a clear view of the moon, he half-imagines being called to The Wild Hunt, and then sleep comes to him, a final prayer forming on the edges of his thoughts, for good hunts, and to be contacted someway, by a god of goodly nature that won't shun his 'secret' self.