Kayla nodded her head at Abiene's queries. "Yeah, they can smell blood. And hear your heart. It leaves sneaking out for the most part. If you're good with a bow you can take them out from afar, before they can see or hear you." She looked at Abiene's plate hungrily. "Actually, yes, please. I would like your mushroom." She slid the plate to herself and gave Abiene a smile. "Go ahead and ask him." Her cheeks turned slightly red and she gave an embarrassed smile. "He's attractive for an elf. I usually go for Nords or Bretons." She took a small bite of the mushroom and washed it down with a mouthful of wine.

"Lleris!" a gruff, but oddly familiar voice called out loudly.

She looked at its source, the armored Imperial. His helmet was off and she could see his dirty and scarred face. She knew who he was now. She had seen him in another life, in Morrowind, when she was considered nothing but expendable property. A chill swept down her spine, and she felt twinge of fear. She’d seen him kill before she knew how to swing a blade properly. Seeing him brought all those memories back to her, and all the helplessness she had felt at the time. I’m not that person anymore, She told herself. She knew how to fight now. She would never be someone’s property again.

She realized she was staring. She turned her eyes back to Kayla and Abiene. She didn’t want him to notice her, or if he did, she didn’t want him to say anything to her. It appeared Abiene managed to give away some of her food. She tried to ignore the crawling sensation on her back.

Abiene

“Go ahead and ask him,” Kayla said, blushing. “He's attractive for an elf. I usually go for Nords or Bretons.”

“Not Imperials?” Abiene teased, lifting a brow at the armored man. Nords and Bretons, she thought. Now there’s a thought to warm the loins.

The Imperial rose to his feet and flung a bottle into the fire. “Lleris!” he bellowed.

Aravi seemed to be struggling for composure. Abiene slipped off the bar stool and glanced around.

A dark-haired Dunmer dashed in from the kitchen and slid to a halt in front of the Imperial. He was as tall as a man, but still boy-slim. “Yes, my lord!” he shouted back. The barman pressed a palm to his face.

Abiene couldn’t begin to guess the source of Aravi’s discomfort. She put a little hip sway in her walk to draw attention away from her flustered friend, though all eyes were surely on the big Imperial.

The bard gave her a disinterested smile as she approached.

“Hello, I’m Abiene.”

“Laegon.”

Abiene leaned on the bar and tilted her head back at Kayla. “Do you see my friend over there?”

He gave Kayla the kind of heated look that Casta Scribonia was always writing about. “I see her.”

“Will you play her a song? She’s from Skyrim, so it should be something with love and blood and beauty.”

The bard thought for a moment, strumming his lute. Then he began to sing.

“Thank you, Laegon.” Abiene dropped a thick coin into his open lute case and turned back to her friends.

If there was one thing to thank Talos and Hircine for on this night, Theudebald gro-Chenniere reflected, it would have to be for the makers of good cloaks. Rain drummed off the thick fabric, covered with a layer of flexible Dreugh wax, and kept it off the rest of him.

Even with his hood up and cloak covering his crossbow and the heavy breastplate and mail he wore, Theudebald made for an imposing sight. He was a large man, especially for a Breton, brawny and thickset, with hair that was tousled and messy with rain and despite the fact he looked to be thirty at most, it was pure white. Sparks jumped and crackled from the head of a large Orsimer-forged warhammer that was slung over his back, tiny starbursts of light dancing like embers on a forge.

Squinting through the rain, the Breton could make out a light burning in the distance, illumination from a lantern or glow stones. With luck, that would mean civilisation and shelter, and perhaps a warm meal instead of the trail rations he had stowed away in his backpack. He picked up his pace, following the road towards Chorrol and taking a side pathway from the main thoroughfare towards the building, passing a sign saying ‘The Wobbly Goblet’.

The inn itself was not much further, and Theudebald found himself before a large, two-storey building. Glowing lanterns flanked a doorway, and there were benches outside, but the Breton ignored them in favour of the door. He pushed it open, out of the rain, and pulled his hood back. Judging by the mud and small puddle just by the doorway, he wasn’t the only one who had just come in out of the rain.

“I lay down on the ground, and the arms and legs of other men, were scattered all around,” a high elf with a lute was singing. “Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed, then prayed and bled some more.”

For the moment, Theudebald decided to pay the bard no heed, instead slinging his hammer off his back and resting its head on the damp floor so he could take his cloak off. Electrical sparks began to race and crackle from the head of weapon into the puddle he had accidentally placed it in before he tugged it out again.

He took a moment to survey the inn, and nodded after a moment; it seemed like a decent place, almost homely, and staying here out of the weather seemed like a good plan. He nodded to a High Elf who was hurrying towards him, and raised his rain-slicked cloak and packpack as he approached.

“There somewhere I can put these?” he asked. “And is there anything to eat?”

Hethilion

The front door opened again, this time admitting a cloaked human who looked too big to be a Breton and too young for his white hair. Hethilion hurried forward as the man arranged his equipment.

“There somewhere I can put these?” asked the human. “And is there anything to eat?”

Hethilion gestured toward the peg rack with one hand and the bar with the other. “Yes and yes, and will you have a room, sir? Will you be wanting a bath?”

The pool of mud and rainwater widened under the newcomer’s feet. Hethilion reached for his mop. He spared one eye for Lleris, hoping that the big Imperial did not take off the lad’s head. His library beckoned, and there was enough mess to mop off the floor already.

"You must be part Bosmer." A smile tugged at the corners of Fedura's lips at the man's comment, and she watched him as he told her he came from Cyrodiil. That he was a traveler was of course something she'd already deduced, as he must have spent quite some time in Morrowind to learn the language so well.

When he stood up and grabbed his bottle, only to put it back down again and take hers instead, Fedura's eyes narrowed slightly as the smile on her lips disappeared. She was however very surprised by his ability to drink the whole thing in one go, and as such her eyes did not stay narrowed for long. The whisper for her to keep her eyes open for vampires caused a grim smile to come upon her face.

“Don't worry, I always keep my eyes open,” she said as he stood there, thinking of something. Then he called out the name of a person who she assumed worked in the public house, and a moment later another man – this one much younger – came running out from the kitchen with a shout of; “Yes, my lord!” She couldn't help the snort of amusement that escaped her mouth as she turned back to her food to continue eating. The young man sounded like a Dunmer, and his ears were pointed.

A while after, the bard began to play on his lute, and then took up a pleasant song. She allowed her thoughts to wander as she finished the mutton dish, and began on the smaller plate of cheese and grapes. She thankfully still had a rather large glass of firebrand wine, or she might have been angrier at the man who'd thrown the bottle into the fire. As she thought of the day, and where she should head on the morrow, the door opened yet again to admit another patron. But she did not turn around this time, and instead drank of her wine as thoughts came and went in her head.

Theudebald nodded his thanks to the Altmer, and as he hung up his coat and pack, said; "I'll be taking a room for the night, definitely, and I'll have a bath later on in the evening, thank you. I'll be eating and putting my feet up a while first."

He his boots clean to avoid trekking mud across the floor and subsequently raising the ire of the Orc woman behind the bar and made his way over there. Pulling up a stool, he glanced at the menu for a moment before the bartender asked; "What can I get you?"

"I'll have..." Theudebald glanced at the menu again. "The slaughterfish, if there's any going. And a glass of Stros M'Kai rum to warm me up a little."

He glanced over at the Khajiit and Altmer women he shared the bar with and nodded a greeting to them.

"Evening," he said.

The heavy Imperial noticed some of the patrons turned to him for a time, and then back to their meals and conversation with disinterest but one of them kept her eyes on him for a moment before turning around quickly. Like a dog or a wolf, Lycus could sense fear. He could smell it just as plainly as he could smell the rain or the food. It was almost palpable. But though he sensed something else in this girl, he felt as if he knew her from somewhere but he couldn’t remember. Like a man trying to recall a distant dream . . . he turned to her and was about to speak when -

“Yes, my lord!”

Lycus looked straight at the boy who responded to his beckon. This must be the one who polishes armor . . .

"I'm no lord." Lycus said.

He was the height of a man but had quite a boyish face and a youthful look to him. Lycus analyzed the fellow from his head to his toe and snorted a chuckle. "You’re the boy who polishes armor?"

Before the Lleris could respond, Lycus handed the Dunmer his gauntlets and told him to follow. "There is mud, blood and grime all over it. I want it polished and cleaned as if it were new." He said as he stopped at the foot of a flight of stairs leading to the floors above.

The front door opened and the entrance admitted another person inside. Lycus turned just in time to see a brute of a man, much like himself, enter the room. He was cloaked, and had his white hair as most men of his kind had. Wild and unkempt. No time for self-pampering. He had the look of a warrior about him, that much was clear. The warhammer slung on his back was evidence that this man could be dangerous, and the reflected sparks dancing about the edge told Lycus it was enchanted. Though most of Lycus' allies were men of that kind, he also had many enemies of that kind too.

The Imperial turned to the boy and climbed the stairs as the new song from the bard sounded off in the distance. "Do your job well, greyskin. This armor means a lot to me, and so does this helmet." Lycus said as he handed the boy(who's held the gauntlets in one hand) the snarling wolf helm with the closed visor. "If I find a scratch that was never there before . . . I'll break both of your hands."

The tone of voice Lycus had was not playful, and had a thick venom to it that suggested he wasn't joking, though Lycus enjoyed scaring Dunmers, especially the young ones who don't deserve a sword in their stomachs. Lleris looked simple enough, and with the way the High Elf cleaned the floor and the Nord woman prepared the meals, Lycus did not doubt he would do his job. If not, then perhaps a good scolding would be in order.

The Imperial headed up the stairs, and turned and stopped. Away from the view of the others, but still in sight of the Dunmer he began to remove parts of his armor. He unstrapped the buckles and took apart his bracers, his shoulder pauldrons and breastplate and grieves. He was left with a simple sweaty and stained shirt and his undergarment, though he wasn't embarrassed. The only things in his hands now were his two swords, and his dagger which he around his waist with one of his belts.

"After you've finished, stop by one of the rooms and leave the armor there. You'll know which one it is. I'll leave a marking at the door." Lycus explained, and climbed the steps into the halls above. Surely he was aware he did not pay for any of the rooms, nor did he need to. He would just share one.


****

Vera closed the door after the Altmer lit the fire for her. She inhaled deeply, and let out a satisfied sigh. She was alone for the moment, but not for too long. Vera took her time and measured up her surroundings. The bed was large, the tub was massive and the chamber was cozy enough to suit her needs. There was even a small mirror on the side.

She began to undress. Her old, tattered cloth lay across the foot of the bath. Though she thought it brown, it had been stained a thousand times into a muddy yellow. Her boots, black and muddy, were thrown to the side. Her skin was just as dirty, but bearing evidence of scars of past battles. Over her back, and above her shoulder, and just above her collarbone too. Both sustained in Tamriel and in Oblivion.

She walked up to her satchel and pulled out a stone statuette of the Daedric Huntsman, and brought it at the front of the mirror near the corner of the room. She collected a few candles from the room and set them near the miniature shrine. She bowed her head, and from her pockets recovered a thick piece of human skin that she took from one of her contracts a day earlier.

“Accept this offering, Father of us all, Sport of those who are not our ancestors. For the thrill was real, and my arrow was true. The prey has been slain in the hunt for the glory of the Huntsman. Let his blood and skin please your eyes, and in return, you grant me my blessings for the days to come.”

Vera opened her eyes, and in a sudden flash the skin began to burn and sizzle, though none of the candles touched it. And then, it crumbled and the remaining ashes scattered about the air. A smile slowly cracked from the corner of her lips, for she knew He was pleased.

After she murmured her prayers, she slid into the water. The bath was hot and relaxing, and every ache in her body seemed to slowly dissipate with each passing minute. Though it would return as quick as it left. As a Lycanthropy, she was prone to feeling every pain and ache in her body that she initially never knew she had. Such is the frustration, she thought as she settled in the tub.

The Imperial began washing her hair, scrubbing her scalp with her fingers and then smoothing out the tangles with a comb she picked up from the table. Then she began washing herself thoroughly; from her face to her breasts to her belly to soft curve of her buttocks. The water took on a slightly darker color as all the mud and uncleanness of her body seeped into the bath. She had half a mind to summon the High Elf again, but decided against it.

The door suddenly flung open, and Vera whirled her head to see the Imperial man. He was barefoot and wearing his undergarment and a simple lower-class shirt. He still had his customary long black hair and neatly trimmed black beard. His sable locks fell to the sides of his face an over his shoulders, and slightly down the back. He entered the room, and closed the door behind him and set his weapons aside.

“Where is your armor?”

“I gave it to the man downstairs to polish it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’d trust a man with your armor?”

He shrugged. “I’d polish it myself if I were not so tired.”

"You're blessed to have a lioness at your side doing the work, otherwise you'd be a lost man," Vera addressed him.

"That's why I married you." He said.

“The water is fine,” Vera replied as she closed her eyes, and set her head back. “I just got in. Join me.”

“I hope you didn’t blacken it.” Lycus answered her. He pulled the bottom of his shirt away and lifted it over his head, and tossed it to the side so that it joined with Vera’ dirty clothing.

She opened her eyes and regarded him with mild interest. “I’ll blacken your eye if you don’t hurry it up.”

The man smiled. “You missed me.”

Vera returned a grin. “Of course I did.”

Yetta

Lleris staggered into the kitchen, weighed down by pieces of black armor. Bograk followed.

“Into the scullery,” Yetta told him, though he already knew.

“Guh, this stuff smells like animal,” said Lleris.

“It smells like work,” said Bograk. “We don’t all get to play with flowers for a living.”

Yetta knew that was a dig at her rose cakes and herbal teas. She pointed a finger at her boss. “Those flowers—” she started, but then the back door opened.

Tooth-in-the-Grass strolled through it wearing only a slaughterfish over one shoulder. “Got one,” he said, handing the mallet back to Yetta. He flopped the fish down onto her cleaning board.

Yetta got busy with her knives.

“He’ll break my hands if I scratch this,” Lleris said, his tone still cheerful. “He’s kind of a prick.”

Bograk watched Lleris place the pieces on the cleaning rack. “You couldn’t scratch that if you tried. Check every strap and buckle for wear, you don’t want one to break right after you’ve cleaned it. He might come back and show you your guts.”

Yetta could smell wax and cleaning fluid over the fish. “Hey! Crack open the window!” she called.

Tooth swiped a kitchen towel over his scales and shook his feathers dry. Yetta did her best not to peek.

“Fetcher called me a greyskin.” Lleris was still going on about the Imperial.

“Well, are you one?” Tooth asked him. He winked at Bograk.

“What’s that, scaletail?” the orc shot back.

“Not a thing, tusker.” Tooth turned to Yetta. “Did you hear something, snowback?”

Auguste strode into the kitchen.

“Need something, softbelly?” Yetta asked him.

The Breton stared at her. “What is your problem?”

Tooth and Bograk laughing together sounded like a hog choking on a turtle.

“Steak or fillet?” Yetta asked Auguste.

“I told you, he wants slaughterfish! Did you… yeah, you got one.” He turned on his heel.

“Is he a big fellow or little?” Yetta called after him. “The customer who’s waiting? Auguste!”

“Another big one,” Auguste said over his shoulder.

Yetta looked down at the fish. “Fillets, then,” she said. “I’ll grill the whole fish.”

Tooth stepped back into his clothes.

“You can learn a lot from cleaning armor,” Bograk was saying to Lleris. “Look at the places where the plates turned a blow. Here, and here. Think where a quick lad might slip a blade through. Good. Which room did he go in?”

“South chamber.”

Bograk nodded. “The other Imperial. I thought as much. They have the same manner.”

Yetta glanced at Tooth for an explanation. He hooked an arm and mimed shoveling food in.

“She didn’t take offense when I offered it.” The orc continued. “I doubt we’ll have trouble from them, at least tonight.”

“I’m going to serve this on a platter,” Yetta announced. “Has anyone seen Stefania?”

Bograk looked around as if the girl might be hiding behind the butter churn. “I thought she was in here with you.”

“Probably crawled up Laegon’s trouser leg,” said Tooth. He tossed his towel onto the table. “Need anything carried out?” he asked Yetta.

She smiled at him and shook her head. “Thanks for getting the fish.”

Aravi breathed a sigh of relief when the Imperial went up the stairs, presumably to his room. She would be perfectly happy to not see him again. She picked at her food while Abiene requested a song from the bard. She pushed aside her plate and pulled her dessert in front of her. She had no appetite anymore, but maybe she could enjoy this.

Another man sat down at the counter and ordered his food. Aravi wasn’t sure what race he was. He looked like a Breton, but he was unusually large if he was. Then again, I’m unusually small for a Suthay-raht. And then his hair was white. Like my fur.
He looked over at her. “Evening.”

“Good evening,” she replied. “I’m Aravi.”

Kayla turned her face slightly to the...man? The person who was speaking to...someone and nodded, keeping her eyes on the bard.

"Hmm." She mumbled non-commitedly, her eyes never leaving the lips of the handsome elf, except on occasion when they locked eyes.

"Oh..." She breathed quietly to Abiene and Aravi. She felt her chest heave slightly and she bit her lip, blushing. "He has a wonderful voice. I wonder..." She let out a short, breathy laugh and shook her head. "No, I'll leave him alone. He''ll set his sights on another woman soon enough."

'One with smooth, unblemished skin.'

She turned back to her plate and stared at her mushroom, picking at it with her fork.

'He has such a lovely voice...'

"Good evening. I'm Aravi," the Khajiit replied. Her fur was pale, and she looked skinny, but tough. Wiry.

"Theudebald," the mercenary said.

In the background, he heard and saw the Imperial warn the dunmer boy he was handing his armour to; "If I find a scratch that was never there before . . . I'll break both of your hands." He resisted the urge to snort in laughter at that. Instead, he turned his attention back to Aravi; the High Elf with her seemed to be distracted by the bard, not that he blamed her for that.

"So what brings you and your friend here on this fine night?" he asked.

“His name is Laegon,” Abiene murmured to Kayla.

A large man with a shock of white hair was introducing himself to Aravi. Abiene gave him a smile of greeting as she returned to her seat, but she didn’t interrupt.

Irvana.

The fog was icy and wet, and a cold wind blew through the shadowed forest, but Irvana barely noticed the chill. The trees, naked and skeletal, grabbed at her as she ran frantically through the woods. A waning Masser shone through the barren tree branches overhead. Black clouds drifted above like a veil. Her jet black hair, lustrous and dark, streamed wildly behind her. Panic was in her eyes. Tears were smeared over her cheeks. Spilled blood streaked her gown, glistening in the moonlight. The sticky crimson nectar had soaked through the linen, causing the thin fabric to cling to her skin. Her pale feet ran over a wet carpet of leaves.

Thunder roared high above her. A jagged bolt of lightning ripped the sky. Rain poured down in sheets again, drenching Irvana. The ground turned to mud beneath her feet. Muck oozed between her cold toes and one misstep would result in her slipping and falling.

The blood upon her black clothes was not only her own, but it belonged to whatever creature had attacked her that night. And rumor around the neighboring village was that the nosferatu were about, and had taken up residence nearby. There was no doubt that the culprit was a vampire, who had been stalking these parts in hopes for a nocturnal snack. With one of the swords clinging to her side, she was able to save herself before the monster tried to drain her blood.

A building and a stable loomed before her, visible through the lights coming from within. As she drew nearer the large wooden structure, she saw that the stable was full of horses. She ran to it, screaming at the top of her lungs as blood fell from a punctured wound in her neck. She could hear the frightened horses whinnying in alarm. The animals were absolutely terrified.

With one final cry for help, she dashed into the stables. A roof provided welcome relief from the downpour. Crazed horses kicked and bucked violently in their stalls, frightened and terrified by the storm and Divines only knew what else. Their hooves pounded against the ground. Irvana could not spare a minute to look at the horses, and she cried for aid.

Breathing hard, she shouted. “Help! Someone help me! Please, help me!”

Water streamed from her black hair and clothes. The air reeked of hay, horse dung, animal sweat, and blood. Her knees shook and she fell to the ground the moment a Bosmer came out to see what the dramatic fuss was about. Irvana saw him, and tumbled over.

“I’ve been bitten. Please,” her voice trailed off. “Help . . .please . . . I think its still out there. Take me inside . . . let me in."

Lowren

Lowren was in Sapphire’s stall when the cats disappeared. An instant later someone came screaming into the stable. He cast his Calm spell to settle the horses. Hopefully it would work on her, too. Lowren disliked a fuss, and this woman was certainly making one.

She toppled over as he walked out into the alley between the stalls.

“I’ve been bitten. Please,” her voice trailed off. “Help . . .please . . . I think it’s still out there. Take me inside . . . let me in."

“All right, lady. You made it here, so get a grip on yourself. I guess you don’t have a horse. Go on inside the tavern. There’s a healer and a Legion Rider in there.”

The woman appeared to be bleeding from her neck. Lowren grimaced. By Y’ffre, she’s a mess.

“Do you think you can make it a few more steps? I have some ointment you can put on that wound, if you want. Otherwise just head up toward the lights. I don’t want to leave the horses if there’s a creature about.”

He looked out the open door.

“Looks like it’s raining again. These spring storms can be unpredictable. Well, you can’t get any wetter.” And you could stand a wash. He glanced back at the woman.

"Laegon." The name rolled off of Kayla's tongue easily. She shot him another smile and turned quickly to hide the blush. She finished her mushroom and looked at Aravi's dessert.

'That looks delicious.'

She drank the rest of her wine in two gulps and looked around to place an order for the cobbler

Irvana shook her head, lips trembling ever so slightly. "No. I don't have a horse." She said in between smaller gasps, looking back and forth as he spoke. "The creature. Its out there . . . its out there!"

But she turned her head to the dark forest. No monster was there. No blood-sucking parasite wanting to drain her. At this point she knew she was safe from whatever attacked her earlier that night, and she turned to the Bosmer who tended to the horses. He was more concerned for them than her, and she understood it. There was safety in the inn that she now saw was the Wobbling Goblet, and she would feel better knowing there was a Legion rider and a healer in there. Irvana nodded at him, wordless.

Her legs were buckled, and she would have fallen, until her hand grabbed his shoulder. She rested her weight against his, and waited before speaking. "I can . . . manage. I think."

She took a few measured steps, and then hurried off into the inn. She stepped toward the door and glanced back at the Bosmeri man. "Be safe!"

Irvana turned the knob, still feeling the low flow of red fluid from her neck. It didn't puncture her deeply as it would've. She supposed she had enough courage to ward off her attacker before any true damage was done, nonetheless the fangs had tore through part of her skin.

Her cold hand gripped the wound and she pressed against it as her other hand opened the door. She entered the tavern and stepped inside very quickly. Her bare feet graced over the mud and water, and she lost her footing and slipped at the entrance. Her two sabers failed to cushion her fall and she fell on top of one of them, the sheathed weapon colliding with her side.

She fell, and remained on the floor until she began rising slowly. Swearing a few words as she sat up. She looked about, wide-eyed and with fear registered on her face. But there was no reason for fear here. There were armored individuals and armed women and a large hulking man. She sighed, and squeezed her neck.

"Is anyone here the healer?" she asked with a timid voice. "I need assistance."

"So what brings you and your friend here on this fine night?" "Theudebald asked.

“Nice to meet you Theudebald.” My friend? She looked at Kayla. I suppose so. I know very little about her, but she’s been kind.

“The storm blew me in, and Kayla came for the bard if I’m not mistaken.” She suspected the weather brought him in as well but she asked anyways, “what brought you here?”

Her question was interrupted by a loud thump by the door. A woman fell, and was asking for a healer. She had blood on her neck. Aravi looked at Abiene. "I have some skill, but it's nothing elegant."

Abiene was already standing. “Don’t worry, I will help her.”

Aravi stood up as well. “I’ll go with you.”Abiene nodded. Maybe I’ll learn something. Maybe my limited magicka will be of some help.

They walked to the woman, another Imperial from what Aravi saw. The scent of blood was strong enough that Aravi was sure anyone with a nose could smell it. Blood mixed with mud, making the woman’s clothes a dirty red color. Aravi was sure it wasn’t all hers if she was capable of standing and calling for a healer. She noticed the woman carried a pair of sabers.

“What happened?” Aravi asked. She saw the bite on the woman's neck and ice filled her veins.

Irvana was getting back on her feet when two people came to her aid. A female Khajiit with white fur akin to that of a snow leopard and a gown-wearing Breton woman. Irvana still had her black cloak hung over her shoulders when she entered; it was meant to keep her hidden from potential enemies, though it didn't help her one bit.

The Khajiit asked her what happened, and Irvana groaned. She massaged the wound and then removed her blood-stained hands. "It said it wanted my blood. I needed to drink." She whispered, looking at the door and backing away from it. She clearly had the look of a distraught young woman.

She brought her hands to her belly where scratch marks cut her flesh. "It was a man. But a creature, too." Her eyes widened slightly. "A vampire! One of the wild ones!"

Then she looked at one of her sabers and let out an embarrased giggle. "I never struck against it. It fell on my sword by accident and then . . . it turned to dust. It was just gone!"

Irvana swallowed hard and gritted her teeth as the pain grew. "But I know there is another one and its after me." She looked to the Khajiit now, and offered a frightened smile. "I will assume you're the healer."

Abiene

The woman gave Aravi a shaky smile. “I will assume you're the healer,” she said.

The legionnaire moved Abiene aside before she could reply.

“You say there is another vampire?” the legionnaire asked the woman. “Did you see it? Where were you attacked? Here, show me on this map.”

Some of the others were gathering around the group.

Abiene caught Hethilion’s eye. “Let’s get her a room and a bath,” she told him. “Don’t worry if she’s lost her purse, I’ll cover the cost. And please ask the cook for some bread and hot broth.” She nodded toward the stairs to get him moving.

Abiene looked the woman over as the legionnaire questioned her. She wore two swords but no shoes. One hand kept returning to the wound on her neck while the other pressed at her belly. She looks like an Imperial, thought Abiene. Good. She won’t resist my spells.

She readied a spell to ease the woman’s fatigue and another to steady her nerves, waiting for the legionnaire to finish.

Kayla listened intently, keeping her place on the stool. Before she could check on the woman, others had jumped to her intended place by her side and inquired about her health. Kayla stood over to the side and observed the scene.

Bite marks on her neck. Bitten. She pulled out a cure disease potion and handed it to Abiene.

"For the disease," she said for clarification. "I can imagine this young woman doesn't want to become some bloodsucking fiend."

A woman with short brown hair rushed up to Irvana, and from her armor and serious question, the wounded Imperial could see that this must of been the legionnaire the bosmer outside was speaking of. She held out a map to Irvana, and asked with urgency where the location of the incident was, and the physical description of the assailant. Irvana took a moment to compose herself, and then she nodded as the memory came to her.

She took a finger and set it on the map. "Here, just a half a mile from that local cavern."

Irvana's mind began to reflect on the attacker's appearance, and she trembled. "It was too dark for me to see, but I knew it was a man. I mean it sounded like a man. All I could see was red glowing eyes . . . and that was it. The first one died, and the second one only stared at me from behind the tree."

She gulped. "I don't know why he spared me, but I think he's stalking me. He wants to save me for later." Irvana looked at the legionnaire. "Promise me you'll kill it?"

The breton woman spoke now, and exchanged glances with an altmer Irvana can only assume would be the housekeeper. She was generous enough to offer to pay for the room and bath, and food as well. This brought a genuine smile to Irvana's face. She'd found the right place. People here were kind, unlike the dark wilderness out there. "Thank you, Divines bless you."

A high elf woman spoke this time, and Irvana set her eyes on her. She had a potion in her hand and by her words, Irvana could discern it was made to ward off any infection one might contract if bitten. She grinned with a friendly smirk at the Altmer. "I can imagine it is a fate worse than death. I'd appreciate it. And for your troubles, I can reward you in the best way possible whenever I get my purse back." She chuckled.

Irvana looked to the breton woman and saw her hands prepared to cast a spell. She winced and rubbed her belly. "I suppose you don't have another vial I can drink? Something to heal my wounds? That is all I ask."

Abiene

The legionnaire gave a sharp nod. “I will inform my superiors of the situation. Perhaps they will increase the Foresters’ patrols and catch that fiend.” She glanced around at the group. “There's evil afoot, citizens. If you've got to travel, by the Nine Divines, stay on the roads!” She headed back toward the bar, Abiene assumed to collect her gear and settle her tab.

The injured woman seemed to have gathered her wits. She accepted Kayla's potion. “I suppose you don't have another vial I can drink?” she asked. “Something to heal my wounds? That is all I ask.”

Abiene spoke up. “I feel certain that one of these warriors will have a healing potion, but might I suggest another course? I am a healer of the Great Chapel of Stendarr. Would you like me to tend your wounds instead? In private, of course. I’m afraid that a potion might leave you with scars, and I have the skill to prevent them.”

She hoped she hadn’t offended Kayla. No doubt her potions were as strong as her poisons, but the scars she bore hinted at their shortcomings.

Another matter weighed on her mind. The Legion does not make a habit of purging caves, she thought. I wonder if any of these fighters will take up the task. And if they all will return.

Irvana nodded and thanked the Imperial legionnaire for her brave words and honest interest in bringing the attacker to justice. More patrols would be just perfect, and Irvana had no doubt they would make a formidable force against the vampire. But deep down inside she feared otherwise but was wise enough to hold her tongue. She had no desire to start a squabble or show her lack of faith in the legion.

Those animalistic fiends must be destroyed, Irvana thought. But mere legion guards might not be sufficient. They might be overwhelmed!

The Imperial noblewoman looked at the Breton for a second, and considered her words deeply. She wasn't comfortable with being touched by others when spells were involved. Irvana bit her lip in uncertainty, and pondered on the issue. She rubbed the neck wound where two fang marks were, and then looked at the scratches on her belly. She decided that there would be no harm in allowing a healer to work her magic.

"Yes," Irvana said after hesitating. "I would rather be healed from these infernal injuries than be forever scarred by them."

She looked at the Altmer woman who offered the potion, and bowed her head slightly. "Thank you again."

Kayla frowned. That's the second time someone has mentioned scarring, she thought. She huffed and cracked her knuckles audibly. She wondered what an extra patrol of Legionairres would do besides drive the vampires slightly deeper. Make them more cunning, she thought.

"I hunt vampires." She told the Legion rider. "You can save manpower by sending me. I've been doing this for fifteen years. And of O die, then you've lost one, not ten."

Irvana looked directly at the Altmer woman now, who huffed and cracked her knuckles in a sign of annoyance or anger. Her attitude, appearance and of course, outfit told Irvana that she was a capable woman who has seen battles before. The brave females that a child could read about in tall-tale stories and men would dream about when sleeping in their beds with their ordinary wives. But what captivated Irvana's attention, and held it, was the woman's revelation of being a vampire hunter. The Imperial woman smiled, but it was more of a hidden one.

She might be capable of securing the dark forest, and saving the farmers nearby from certain doom, Irvana thought, and then some more. But if she's a vampire hunter of skill who's been doing this for fifteen years wouldn't she have sniffed out the pests and killed them by now?

She would not fault the woman for that. Vampires are crafty and deceiving creatures, masters of lies and shadows. They could easily hide in the darkness and avoid detection, and it could take many decades for a vampire hunter to truly master their career.

This brought Irvana to a book she once read called Immortal Blood. Though it was a tale of fiction among the common people, with some truth to it, it nevertheless confirmed the craftiness of these creatures and showed that even a talented vampire hunter could fail.

Interrupting, Irvana touched the Altmer woman on the shoulders. "Brave of you! I would reward you with my coin saved in my coffers if you could bring me the dust of these neferious leeches."

Then concern was written over her expression. Her eyes searched the Altmer's. "But there might be too many of them. You might need the aid of other vampire hunters if there is a nest of them in the wilderness."

"I hunt vampires. You can save manpower by sending me. I've been doing this for fifteen years. And of I die, then you've lost one, not ten." Kayla piped up immediately.

I hope she doesn't want to start hunting tonight, Aravi thought to herself. She was tired and was looking forward to a hot bath and plenty of rest after spending days on the road. But then, she certainly wasn’t going to be left out of a vampire hunt. She cared little for the promised reward; she had plenty of coin from the artifacts and oddities she found in her travels. She cared more for Kayla’s and the local’s safety.

Aravi touched Kayla’s arm to get her attention. “I’ll go with you."

Kayla turned to Aravi and nodded. "We can rest tonight. But tomorrow I'm heading out. It's too difficult to see anything in this rain." She turned to the young Imperial. "Keep your money. I appreciate it, but no thank you. This is something I do. I can't guarantee the dust, but I'll do what I can."

Irvana saw that the high elf woman was honorable, and chose that her duty to wiping out the nosferatu was greater than her need for reward. And Irvana had no problem with that. We need more people like her in the world, she thought. But going out at this hour was no good, and the last thing she wanted was for the hunter to fail in her quest or the legion for that matter. They are at a tremendous disadvantage.

She looked at the Khajiit, who gently touched the woman for attention. She could see they were friends, or at least well acquainted. The Khajiit, despite looking tired, was also eager to join. Was she a vampire hunter as well, or did she simply wished to go on an adventure and do the villagers some good?

Irvana nodded at the words of the high elf woman, and bit her lip as if nervous. "It is very dangerous out there and I was foolish enough travel at this hour. Vampires sleep during the day, yes? It would be wise to venture into their lair when they least expect it."

She rubbed the back of neck. "I suppose I've caused too much trouble already. I never meant to be the bringer of so much drama. My name is Irvana." She smiled this time, without showing her teeth.

"We can rest tonight…”

Aravi sighed inwardly. That at least meant that she would have her bath and a good night’s sleep. And I won’t risk missing Abiene in the morning either.She still had her own purpose for being here.

“ …My name is Irvana," the Imperial introduced herself.

“I’m Aravi.” Aravi had to look up at the Imperial. She doesn’t seem like she knows much about defending herself. What was she doing out on her own at this time anyways?

“You should go up so Abiene can close your wounds. Do you need help?” Aravi looked to Abiene and Irvana.

“I’m Abiene. Are you ready to go up? Let’s find the chamber that Hethilion has prepared for you.”

Abiene’s eyes returned to Irvana’s two swords. She couldn’t imagine a vampire fatally falling onto one, but then she was no fighter. Irvana was a tall woman. Perhaps she was also stronger than she looked.

She gave Aravi a grateful glance when she offered to help. It seemed as if Irvana was recovering from her shock, but the woman might take another turn. Only moments ago she had been hysterical.

“What do you think, Irvana? Can you manage the stairs on your own?”

Irvana reached out to Aravi to shake her hand. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Aravi."

She whirled to the healer and concluded that this must be Abiene. She exchanged looks from the khajiit and the breton. "I think that is the best course for now. And I appreciate your offer. But you look tired. I don't want to burden you. If you are to go to brave those things than it would be best if you were at your strongest."

When the healer(who revealed herself as Abiene) asked if she was able to go up the stairs, Irvana could only muster a small laugh. "I can walk. I'm just shaken, that's all. I've been assaulted before on various occasions back when I was younger. Being attacked by a creature who wants your blood is something entirely different and mortyfing. I've heard stories about vampires. Folk tales. I just don't want to end up being their next victim."

She breathed deeply and sighed, eager to climb the stairs and put this dilemma behind. Though her legs were still trembling. "Lead the way, dear Abiene."

From her time there with these new people, Irvana could see that they might have been shocked at the situation, and of course, its not every night a person survives an attack from a nosferatu.

Kayla could see that Abiene and Aravi could handle the woman. In the morning, she would question her about the whereab of the vampire, though if the rain let up, it would still be difficult to tell. She sat back on the barstool and ordered another wine. She took a mouthful of the sweet, dark purple liquid and cast another glance to Laegon.

'I wonder if he'll sing me a private tune in my room...'

"Lead the way, dear Abiene."

Aravi saw Irvana was a bit unsteady. Despite that, the decision to return to the bar was an easy one. If she fell, she would have a healer to see to her immediately. And she claimed she was fine. Aravi had directed her question to Abiene as well to be sure that she didn’t need the help. With both of them turning her loose, she was more than happy to get off of her feet again. It’s time to finish my dessert. She sat next to Kayla, whose attention was fully on the bard again. Aravi picked up her fork and ate a quick bite. The crumble was still delicious.

Abiene

Irvana let out a sigh. “Lead the way, dear Abiene.”

Abiene picked up her pack and cloak and headed up the stairs. Hethilion stood in the corridor, a key in each hand. He gestured to one of the doors. “For you, miss,” he said to Abiene. Then his eyes went over her head, she guessed to Irvana.

“I’ll join you in a moment,” Abiene called softly over her shoulder. She stepped into her chamber to put down her things.

The first thing she noticed was the filled tub, though she hadn’t asked for it. Bless you, Hethilion, Abiene thought. She hung her cloak and pack, removed her enchanted jewelry, then washed her hands at the basin.

A moment later she was back in the corridor looking for Irvana’s room.

Irvana followed Abiene up the stairs with her black cloak hung over her shoulders. She was looking forward to a bath, and to be free from those wounds. She had no doubt Abiene might have some skill as a healer. The breton told her she would be with her shortly, and left to her own chamber to get prepared. Hethilion was in the hallway already, keys in each hand as he guided Irvana to one of the rooms.

She stood at the doorway, and then entered the chamber. With a timid attitude she started to search the room, looking at the fine sheets in the bed, the bench on the side of the entrance and everything that bespoke the neatness and luxury of the inn.

How fortunate I found this place, Irvana thought. She smiled as she saw the folded set of clothes in the corner, and then her smile turned to a slight frown when she looked at the walls. "There are no windows."

She turned to the Altmer, and then squeezed her lips tight. She stood there with her hands clasped together before her above her knee. Before he had a chance to reply, she spoke. "I think it would be safer. No chance of anything crawling through the window to get to me. If anything, I'll light a few candles here."

Abiene

Abiene heard Irvana’s voice from one of the rooms. She walked over.

She spoke before Hethilion could leave. “You know, it was presumptuous of me to order broth and bread for you, Irvana. Would you like something else brought up? I’m sure Hethilion will change the order.”

She brushed her hand lightly down the Altmer’s forearm as she addressed him. “I left my strawberries at the bar. Would you mind bringing my plate up if you get a chance? And I would love a pot of Yetta’s orange tea.” Now the tall mer’s eyes were on hers. She gave his arm a quick squeeze of gratitude. “Thank you, Hethilion.”

They both looked over at Irvana.

Fedura only listened with half an ear to the other people at the bar when a man, Theudebald, introduced himself to the other women. Instead she busied herself with finishing her meal, so that she could leave to go to bed as soon as possible. As luck would have it, the dunmer woman had only just finished her drink when another person wandered in through the door. This time however, she did turn her head when the sound of someone falling to the floor reached her ears, and the bloodied woman dripping water all over the floor caused her brows to furrow as she wondered if Ceylye was alright. The woman's pitiful voice as she asked for assistance immediately caused many in the public house to stir, and the female Breton by the bar stood up first, closely followed by the white-furred khajiit as they headed to the woman.

She stayed by the bar, not really paying much attention until the mention of vampires, at which her white eyes glanced towards the door before paying attention to what the others were saying. The legionnaire wanted to know the location of the attack, but Fedura doubted anything would be done about it by officials. Then a couple of the women declared that they'd take care of it the next day after they'd rested, and she wondered for a moment if they really were as experienced with vampire hunting as they said. However, she decided that it didn't really matter, as she'd be leaving the next day and it was doubtful that she'd ever see them again even if they survived the vampires.

When two of the women headed up the stairs, Fedura got of her chair and picked up her bag, turning to the Orsimer woman who'd returned to the bar only a little while ago. Upon asking which room she could take, she was given a key by the Orsimer, and directions as to how to get to her room. Then Fedura thanked her, paid her tab and headed towards the stairs. When she reached the top, she saw the two women and the Altmer housekeeper, but ignored what they were talking about and walked past them to her own room.

Having stepped inside the door and shut it behind her, the woman was relieved to finally have some time to herself. Quickly finding the bed with her eyes, she placed her pack and weapons at the foot of it before laying down on the soft fabric of the quilt, only intending to rest a moment before removing her armour.

Irvana saw Abiene as she left her chamber to regroup with her and Hethilion. She decided that she should have asked the Imperial for whatever she wanted. Irvana considered the offer, but went with what Abiene originally ordered for her minutes prior. "Broth and bread is quite fine."

She paused, and shrugged her shoulders so that her cloak could fall off into her hands. "If you can have this washed. I would be ever so grateful."

Irvana looked down on the muddied robe that helped her walk at night without drawing too much attention to her youthful features and obvious nobility. It was black, and was ornamented with faint crimson symbols on them which indicated something of Daedric origin, but not entirely so. The attire itself wasn't enchanted, but it certainly was a rare piece of fabric.

"It means a lot to me." She smiled and then refused to say anything else. She didn't want to seem like she's taking advantage of them by asking for too much. Just then a white-eyed dark elf woman climbed the steps, looked at them, and retreated into her own chamber without saying so much as a single word.

Peculiar . . .

She looked at Abiene, and Hethilion and then scratched her own arm. "I suppose we should get started."

"Here's the plan," Kayla said to Aravi, her eyes still on the bard. "Go ahead and enjoy your dessert. We rest up tonight, get our baths, get some proper sleep. In the morning, we pack what we need. Potions, weapons, foodstuffs, etc. The usual. We talk to the girl and see it we can't find the bloodsucker based on what she says. She'll be calmer in the morning."

She turned her attention to Aravi, leaning one elbow on the bar. She set the other on her own knee. "We need to discuss our strengths and weaknesses so we can better team up. O work better with my hands and a sword. I'm awful at sneaking, but am pretty quick. I can manage with a bow, bit don't have one with me. I know destruction spells fairly well, and of course, my poisons are pretty good, if I say so myself." She grinned.

Abiene

Irvana looked at Abiene and Hethilion. “I suppose we should get started,” Irvana said.

Abiene moved into the room and closed the door behind her. “Irvana, I think it will be fine if you sit on this bench and lean back. I can kneel here on the floor beside you. I will first use a spell to clean your wounds, and then I will heal them. The cleansing spell will dissolve anything that isn’t living tissue, so please open your gown over the abdominal wound and hold still while I am casting. I assure you it is painless and quite safe.”

She rolled her sleeves up over her elbows. Tonight’s stop was unexpected, and she had not brought an extra gown. It would be best to keep this one clean.

Irvana had expressed concerns that the vampire was stalking her. “Would you like me to cast a ward on your door tonight? They taught me one at the chapel to keep the ghosts out of my bedchamber. I hate waking up half frozen and covered in ectoplasm. Anyway it will only last until around dawn, but it should keep the undead from passing through it until then.”

Kayla abruptly started speaking to Aravi while she still had a mouthful of crumble. She quietly chewed as she listened to the Altmer speak. When Kayla was done speaking, Aravi took a quick drink of her now cold tea.

“I’m best with my swords as well. I can’t rival a Bosmer or a forester with my bow, but I can shoot pretty well. I can sneak, open nearly any lock, and heal most wounds enough to get out of immediate danger.” She looked at the tall Altmer. “I can probably keep up with you as well, despite my size. I rely more on my speed than the protection of my armor. I can’t take a heavy blow and keep fighting without some help.”

Abiene entered the room, closed the door behind her, and advised that she took a seat on the bench and relax. Irvana did so. This will be painless . . .

The Imperial woman lifted her gown, exposing the rather nasty-looking scratch on her belly. She tried not to stare, but as she looked into the bretons eyes all Irvana could muster was a simple thank you.

The healer rolled up her sleeves, perhaps to try and not get it messy with the blood and damaged flesh Irvana had. She probably noted Irvana's concern, and asked if she would desire in having a ward placed at the door to keep out the intrusion of undead. Irvana thought about it, and decided against it.

As ravenous as those vampires are, would they truly be foolish enough to enter the Wobbly Goblet? With the armed warrior and Legion guard? As well as the vampire hunter herself! Irvana felt she would be safer with them around. There was no need for a ward spell.

"No," she simply said. "I don't think that's nescessary. I trust Aravi and the high elf vampire hunter are truly fierce warriors and even if they are asleep . . . would vampires really be foolish enough to attack twice? Surely they know we are all aware of them? They like to attack by surprise." Her voice trailed off and tears formed in her eye. "Like how they did to me."

Kayla's eyebrows raised only slightly when Aravi rattled off her skills.

"Any lock? Or, nearly any lock? That's extremely useful. Even the feral vamps keep loot. And if they have prisoners, well, that will come in handy as well." She stayed silent for a moment before turning completely to the bar. She gulped her wine down, giving up on Laegon. The bard did his job well, since he had only stopped playing during the ruckus. Once Irvana went upstairs, he had resumed his lute playing.

Kayla leaned rested her chin on one hand, drumming her fingers on her chin absently while she thought. Her other hand traced the etchings on her sword hilt.

"Since you can't take heavy blows, it might be wise for me to lead. If you, like most Khajiit, have sharp eyes, you can spot danger. If its in a cave, you can hide and let me deal with the vamps, coming in when I need you. I don't want to put you in danger."

She turned her head, keeping her head rested on her hand.

"I know a muffle spell to keep myself quiter, bit it's not foolproof. Let's get a bath and some rest. First one to wake up wakes the other. Sound good?"

“There are some locks even I can’t get into, but for the most part, with enough time I can get into it.” Aravi had a few more questions before they broke for the night and Kayla just gulped down her wine. Aravi’s time became limited.

“I’m used to working with another, heavily armored warrior. We can do as you suggest, but this is how I normally work: When I find where they live, I look for a back entrance. If they haven one, great, I use it and sneak in. If not, I enter the front as quietly as I can. Sometimes they don’t even have sentries posted, depending on how unorganized they are. If I can get in quietly, I can usually kill a good number of them before the rest know I’m there. If it turns into a large fight, I can hold my own as long as I have room to move. I try to get around and attack distracted ones from the side or back.” She paused. “What kind of armor do you wear? Does your sword have any enchantments?”

Kayla yawned, covering her mouth. "Light leather armor. It has a resist disease enchantment, but only a little one. And my sword has a fire enchantment. Of course." She laughed a little.

"What about your sword?" She shot one last look at Laegon before turning back to Aravi.

"One is enchanted with fire, the other has silver worked into the steel. We'll have to make sure we pack plenty of disease potions. I can't cure them with magic." Aravi fought back a contagious yawn. Kharjo's amulet was nice in that regard, she thought, remembering the amulet she gave him. It had very powerful disease resistance so she didn't have to worry about him. She of course was covered by the curse of lycanthropy. The wolf within didn't tolerate other infections. Not that she was going to share that with Kayla or anyone else at the inn.

"If you wake up before me in the morning, come and get me. I want to make sure I speak with Abiene before we go though."

Kayla nodded and yawned again. "I have plenty to share. All of my own brew. They work quickly. I've got a good bit of resistance built up to the disease, but it never hurts to be prepared. We can split the potions and each take one after the hunt is over." She stood up and steadied herself on the bar. "If you don't mind, I'll be taking that bath now. I have a feeling you'll wake up before me, though. See you in the morning." She gave Aravi a half-grin before sauntering off to her room, shooting an uncharacteristically flirtatious look at Laegon before climbing the stairs to her room.

Once she reached the top steps, she fumbled the key into the lock and opened it, closing it quietly behind her. Kayla blinked at the bed.

'That's really inviting.' She thought. She stripped herself of her clothing and took out her warm sleeping shirt and slipped it on before climbing into bed. She sighed.

'Godsdamnit. I was supposed to bathe.'

Abiene

“Would vampires really be foolish enough to attack twice?” Irvana said. “Surely they know we are all aware of them? They like to attack by surprise.” Her lovely eyes filled with tears. “Like how they did to me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re right,” Abiene quickly agreed. “I’m sorry I brought it up again.”

I’ll ward my door just the same, she thought. A shudder passed through her. To be enthralled and helpless, or even changed… It was the fuel of nightmares.

Abiene knelt beside Irvana. “I’ll tell you what I’m doing as I work, so you’ll know what you’re feeling. First I’m going to cleanse the wound here on your belly. I’ll help hold your gown aside, and now I’m casting the spell.” She was careful to keep the fabric out of the way so as not to further damage Irvana’s dress. “Now I’m going to place my fingers across the scratch, so you’ll feel my hand.” She sent healing energy through her fingertips, knitting up the layers of muscle and skin until no trace of damage remained.

“There. Now I’ll sit up and heal your neck.” Abiene put action to her words, rising onto her knees to reach the taller woman. She took care to gently lift Irvana’s hair out of the way. The Imperial possessed striking beauty, and Abiene was certain that she would not appreciate a haircut from the cleansing spell.

The caked blood and grime disappeared under Abiene’s hand, and the jagged bites faded away to nothing. She took a moment to send healing light throughout Irvana’s body, easing any bruised muscles and strained joints that would only begin to hurt after the shock of the attack had fully passed.

“All finished.” Abiene sat back down on her heels for a moment, drawing her senses back into herself. She smiled up at Irvana. “Do you hear that? I think Hethilion is out in the hall. Perhaps he has our refreshments.”

Irvana relaxed, wiping away the moisture in her eyes and set away her swords. The silver pommel bore the same symbols that was on her cloak; old runes were clearly inscribed on the sheathe and blade.

Abiene worked her healing abilities on her. As she did she casually explained what she was doing, and what she'll be feeling during the restorative process. First she moved part of the gown aside, placed her finger on Irvana's belly and cast a spell. Pale tissue began to restore and heal.

The healer moved onto her neck, gently moving aside the strands of black hair that was in the way. The wound was cleaned and healed and the blood and all trace of an attack had vanished entirely. The third work of magic was sent throughout her entire body and Irvana felt that it was meant to ease the pains could've acquired during the attack.

After that, she sat back at her heels and smiled at Irvana. Irvana returned the smile and her eyes sparkled with what one could assume was hope and gratitude. "I feel amazing. Thank you so much, Abiene."

Abiene heard something, and Irvana did too. She turned her attention at the door and then back at the healer kneeling before her. She nodded. "I am hungry," she said. "And thirsty. Very thirsty. I would be delighted in trying out the broth."

She added. "And perhaps we can get to know each other better, no? I know we just met but I already consider you friend. Especially after what you've done for me."