The Inn of the Singing Rose

Winning One Over
Players: Kadgeon, Rosiel, Mordren.
Date: Sept. 21/06 (Completed)
Place: The Moon Raven

Synopsis: Mordren looks to win over a newcomer to Irae, with hopes of recruiting her into his fold.

The sound of laughter drew Rosiel toward the tavern. She stood outside for a moment, staring into the dimly lit room through the window. Her heart raced as her mind tried to come to grips with where she was. How did she leave the desert to come to this city? Would the curse follow her? Was this a chance at a new beginning, one where she didn't have to struggle against the desires that plagued her mind and body? With a resigned sigh, she opened the door and slid into the tavern, her eyes adjusting to the light quickly. She scanned the room and decided that a seat at the bar would draw less attention to her than sitting at a table alone.

The Assassin of Irae stood at the helm of his ship, the Moon Raven Tavern, serving drinks to those that wanted them. As he came about the "L" of the bar, a drunken sailor leaned in, "Gimme what'er ya gots." Mordren could smell the stench of too much alcohol, mingled with vomit, released from the man's mouth. Turning to one of his newly acquired "thugs" in the corner, he signaled that the man be removed. The man had little problem clearing a path to reach the drunken sailor, and within moments he was dragging the sailor to the door. "And don't forget to pinch his coin purse," Mordren muttered to himself as he watched the bouncer drag his hapless victim away.

Sidestepping the man being removed, Rosiel took his seat at the bar, trying to ignore the smells that were reaching her now that she was further into the place. She refrained from wrinkling her nose, knowing that it might get her removed just as quickly as the gentleman who occupied this chair prior to her. She watched the barkeep for a moment, wondering if there was anything in this place that could quench her thirst. She'd spent so long in the desert she didn't even remember what water tasted like...

Mordren slid before the new customer almost immediately. He had prided himself on quick service to his patronage, and for good cause. "Ale, wine, or something sweeter?" he inquired of Rosiel with a slight touch of curiousity bleeding into the tone of his otherwise "dull" voice. He had performed this song and dance hundreds of thousands of times, and it had grown tedious over a while.

Rosiel just stared, seeming stupid at first. She blinked and lowered her eyes, recovering from her shock. He spoke to her without the usual hatred she heard from people she'd met before. She pinched her arm to make sure she wasn't dreaming and winced. No, this was real. She raised her eyes again and shrugged.

"Um...wine I suppose." Her voice was soft, slightly gravely from not being used for long periods of time. Her eyes had a wild look to them, something that was tightly restrained.


Nodding, Mordren turned about quickly and grabbed a bottle of fine Vino-- he figured this girl needed something heavy after she had pinched herself. Turning back around, Mordren juggled the wine bottle with one hand while he pulled a glass from beneath the bar with the other. "New to Irae?" the Assassin questioned his customer as he poured the crimson red liquid, "Or just new to this part of the City?"

Blinking with curiosity, Rosiel watched silently until he asked her another question. "Irae? Is that the name of this city?" She knew she sounded like a fool, not knowing the name of the city she was in. She glanced about, making sure no one else had heard her talking and turned back to the barkeep. "What part of Arda is this city located?"

"Arda?" The Assassin pondered the word for a moment. He had never heard of any place called 'Arda', in all of his travels previous to his settling in the City of Lions. "I'm not sure I've ever heard that name before." Mordren turned and put the Vino back on its shelf.

She couldn't believe his words. Never heard of Arda! It was the name of the world itself...maybe she wasn't the one who was out of her mind. "Arda is the world's name...don't you know that?" She kept her voice low. If she was the only one here who knew the name of the world in which they lived she wasn't about to make everyone in the tavern feel stupid.

"Arda? I didn't know the world had a name. I know the names of cities, lady. Irae, Darkhaven, Ofcol. I have never once heard the term 'Arda' used before." Mordren states this bluntly, but there is a touch of curiosity in his voice. Of what tongue was this word, 'Arda' derived? Perhaps it was an Elven word, which means it likely carried Elven secrets. Secrets are always an asset to the Assassin of Irae.

Never heard of Arda! Her mind reeled from the information. What sort of people lived in this 'Irae' that they didn't know the name of their own world. Or maybe she wasn't there anymore...

She stared at the barkeep for quite some time before her manners overcame her shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare." She lowers her eyes and stares at the bar instead.

"What language is that word derived from?" Mordren asked, looking down at this peculiar customer of his. "What part of the Realm? It sounds Elven." He kept his voice low- he, too, did not see a point in giving anyone else the information that he wanted for himself. Grabbing a stool, Mordren sits in it on his side of the bar, instructing Naelmi to watch for new customers.

Sitting close enough to hear the two at the bar speaking in low tones Kadgeon looked towards them from under her cloak hood. Her ice blue eyes roaming over the two, the female she did not recognize, but the male she had met before. If she remembered correctly from what she had gathered upon her return to Irae, he was now the owner of the Moon Raven. Maybe she should re-acquaint herself with him. Thinking to herself, she continued to sit there, quietly listening.

Not knowing how to respond, Rosiel merely shrugged. "I do not know the origin of the word. It has no meaning in the tongue I was taught as a child." She looks up when she hears the scraping of a stool and blinks. The barkeep sat directly across from her, giving her his full attention. She blushed and looked down again. No one had ever paid her any attention since the Curse...

"Well, what area of the world did you come from? That could give us a good idea of where the word's roots lie." The Assassin was focused, intent on learning this secret. Perhaps it was a word which carried a powerful magic with it? The key to some magical portal? Who could tell? Regardless, Mordren had been snared by the web of curiousity and he was determined on finding out the answer.

Kadgeon grinned to herself, she could hear the curiosity in his voice. The girl, whoever she was, had caught him. He would not relent until he found out what he wanted to know. She herself was curious as to what the word meant and where it came from. Better yet, where the girl came from. That would be more interesting.

Unused to this kind of attention, Rosiel tried to curl up on the bar stool. "I...um...I don't remember. I have forgotten so much wandering in the desert..." She tugged on her hair, wracking her brain for some memory of her life before the Curse. "All I remember is Father and the Oath..." She stares at her hands, seeing them covered in blood once again. All the innocent lives she took.

Mordren's eyebrow arches as he hears the girl's words. "What oath? And what desert do you speak of?" He had known a few deserts- he had passed through one on his crossing from his own homeland to Darkhaven. But an Oath? This conversation was growing more and more interesting by the moment.

Getting a little excited at the girls words she began to get restless. Somewhere she had heard mention of something like this on her return to Irae! She just couldn't remember. Deciding to get a little closer she went to the bar and waited for the barkeep to come to her. 'What can I get for ye?' His gruff voice was low, but loud enough for Kadgeon to hear it. 'Whatever you've got'll work.' She waited for her drink and paid the man for it plus a little extra and sat there pretending to drink the mead as she continued to listen.

Rosiel shook her head. She wouldn't repeat the Oath, not ever again. The Oath had cost her her childhood, her life even! Because of the Oath her father demanded she swear, she had lost everything that could ever be worth keeping. Just thinking of the terror that had followed her after that fateful day made her shiver. "I do not know the desert, Arda began to look the same everywhere after the Oath...maybe the High Ones can repair it when our vile race is wiped from it's face..." She shivers again and looks around, seeing someone she feels is too close to her she lowers her head again and keeps silent.


"Vile race? And of what race do you speak? Elves?" The question seemed rational. The girl had the facial structure of an elf, and she drank like one, too. He wanted to ask her, 'Are you sure you're holding that wine well?' Instead, he simply asked "You are done?" and motioned towards her glass.

Losing interest for the moment Kadgeon stood and took a moment to look back at Mordren, and hoped that he would not notice her but then again at the same time she wanted him to. Turning to leave she stopped by a man’s table close to the door. Leaning down to whisper to him she said 'That woman talking to Mordren, keep an eye on her, and report back to me daily until I tell you otherwise.' Discreetly slipping him more money than was needed she headed towards the door. The man she had just hired was a regular for her, she hired him more often than any of the others because he was actually good at his job. Once outside she slipped into the darkness and headed towards her shop.

Rosiel cast a glance at the glass and nodded, she hadn't really touched it as it hadn't sated the thirst she felt. "There are but four of my kindred left, all suffer the Curse. If they are here you must tell me. I would that we were destroyed together." She realized that probably wasn't possible, as no one here seemed to even know what Arda was. "You speak of elves as if there are many here. Are there?" There was hope in her eyes, as well as fear. If she were to find them, maybe they would know how to remove the Curse...or she may bring the Curse to them only to have it infect them all.

"There are a fair number of Elves living in Irae. Nowhere near the population of humans, but a fair number." Taking the glass away, Mordren turned his back on the girl once more. "But it would be a crime for me to let a lady kill herself. Truly, you don't mean to do that?"

Frowning, Rosiel shook her head. "I cannot die, such is the Curse that plagues me." She sighs and pushes away from the bar. "I should go, I do not wish to bring the Curse upon your establishment." She stands, muttering as part of her gown rips, revealing a slender white leg, the skin almost perfect save for a single reddened scar that follows along the entire back of her leg.

"I don't think you need worry about that, m'lady. This Tavern has played the host of a myriad of things far worse than whatever Curse you may be speaking of." That said, Mordren takes his seat once more, growing silent as he ponders the events of the eve.

Rosiel stops a moment, remembering that she has no idea where she is or how she got there. She turns back and looks at the barkeep. "Is there somewhere I can stay? I don't have money...maybe a forest with trees?" Her eyes water at the thought of seeing a tree again. One lush and green, full of life...

"I do have a room in which I could put you up, but you may have to deal with the sound of an orc knocking on your wall at night," Mordren offered with a half-smile. "But, if you'd prefer the woods, there is a fair spot just outside the city's gate.”

With wide eyes she stares at the barkeep. "An orc???" She'd seen one a long time ago, they were strong, ugly creatures, foul smelling with dispositions to match. "You allow an orc to stay in your rooms?"


"Believe me, he is very passive for the most part. Except when I want him to be violent," Mordren chuckled, "he's house trained." Pulling out a pipe, the Assassin stuffed it with pipeweed and lit it, taking a slow draw. "It's a free room, lady. You're not going to find one anywhere else in the City."

Instantly suspicious, Rosiel narrowed her eyes. Why would he offer her a room, knowing she had no idea where she was or what she was doing here. He obviously wanted something from her if not payment. And anyone who could control an orc was not someone she wished to be crossways with. "There is always a price for hospitality, even if the cost is not in gold." She meant to whisper the words to herself, but they were louder than she intended.

Mordren leaned backwards, acting as if he were hit by the girl. "Please, you insult my generosity? I was only being kind, m'lady. It is a room, and I am offering it, free of cost. It's nothing spectacular, it's not even very big. But it is a room, a roof over your head." The Assassin did have selfish intent- he wanted to learn more about this girl's past, and he assumed she would keep a diary. That was common practice for most women, was it not? "Please, accept my offer. If only for the night?"

Nodding slightly she went back to the bar. She had no personal possessions, no means of income and certainly no friends. Perhaps she was just letting her past rule her thoughts. If no one here had heard of Arda, perhaps they knew nothing of the Oath or the Curse. "I am sorry. I did not mean to insult. Few have shown me such generosity."

"Very good, m'lady. I will have Foster show you your room. If you will excuse," The Assassin was already motioning for his muscle, "I have another customer to serve." Foster approached slowly, and Mordren pointed to the girl, and then told him a number- the room's, most likely. "Ahh, and I didn't get your name. What is it?"

Blushing again at her lack of manners, Rosiel kicks the ground, a tad nervous. All she remembered was her first name. "Rosiel." She glanced at the man named Foster, remembering him from when she entered the tavern. She gave him a nervous smile.

"Rosiel. Very good. I am Mordren Thral'Athos, proprietor of this establishment- The Moon Raven Tavern. Welcome." Then, turning to his muscle, he smiled. "Foster?" With this, he walked off to handle another customer.

Following Foster, Rosiel glanced back one last time before she couldn't see the barkeep anymore. She hoped she could trust him.

A Quick Escape
Players: Rosiel, Carnak
Date: Sept. 22/06
Place: The Moon Raven

Synopsis: Rosiel meets Carnak as he escapes from the Moon Raven Tavern.

The bulky muscle of the Moon Raven Tavern, Foster, stepped slowly over the creaky floorboards of the Raven's back hallway. He was leading the girl, Rosiel, to her new room. "Master Thral'Athos is quite keen on you, methinks," Foster stated to the girl. His voice was hoarse and it made him sound twice his age. "He doesn't usually give people a room to stay in. Not free of charge."

A nod was the only answer she gave. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of any one being "keen" on her. The Curse was sure to rear it's ugly head while she was here in this City. She should have just left when she had the chance, but she couldn't turn down such hospitality. Her mother had taught her better than that. She glanced about as she walked down the hall, finding the boards that didn't creaky with an almost sixth sense. The only noise she made as she walked down the hall was the swishing of her ripped skirt. She looked almost like a ghost as she walked down the hall following Foster.

At last, Foster had come to the room. He was never much for small talk, or for any talk whatsoever, ultimately preferring to remain silent. "Strange," he remarked. "Mordren generally keeps the doors closed. Oh well, here is the room, m'lady." The room was simple enough, and a lamp had already been lit to reveal its contents. There was a small bed, a closet on the far wall (that door, at least, was shut), and a wardrobe opposite the bed. "Enjoy," Foster offered with a smile before turning to walk away.

Rosiel stood in the open doorway and stared at the room. It didn't matter to her that the room was sparsely furnished. She stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind her, leaning against it until she heard the soft click of the latch. Sighing she pushed away from the door and went to sit on the bed. She hadn't slept in a bed in so long. Sand and rock were all she had known for so very long. She lay back on the bed with her legs hanging off the side and closed her eyes, letting her mind wander as she relaxed.

Mac Morna waited for the sound of the door's closing before he slowly opened the one belonging to the closet. It was a complicated affair, his escape from the room next door, but he had managed to spring himself from captivity. Slowly, he crept from his hiding place, only to find a woman seemingly asleep on the bed. "Damn my luck," Carnak hissed to himself. It was hard enough for a half-orc to be covert, but to have to deal with people in such proximity as this troubled him.

The sound of another door opening drew Rosiel's mind back to the here and now. She didn't open her eyes all the way, just enough to see the room around her. Gazing out from between her eyelashes, she saw a large figure step out of the closet. She kept as still as possible, hoping that she gave the illusion of one asleep. For all that the Oath and Curse had damned her, the years of wandering had taught her the skill of patience. She would sit, and wait, until the moment was right.
The half-orc stood still a moment as a thought passed through his head, and as per usual, he voiced it aloud. "But, suppose she is one of Mordren's? She would make a valuable bartering chip in my escape, I imagine. My freedom for the girl's life." Carnak glanced at the girl on the bed, who still seemed asleep, before moving forward. Had this been only a few months prior, Mac Morna never would have considered taking a hostage. But desperate times did, indeed, call for desperate measures.

When she saw the figure step toward her she cursed the day she'd dropped her sword in the desert. The weapon would have served her better now than it did then. With a sigh of resignation she slowly opened her eyes and stared at the man. "If you're going to take a hostage you might prefer one that isn’t expendable." She didn't speak above a whisper, but her words rang clear in the silent room. She shifted her position to sit up again, the rip in her skirt tearing further up her leg with the simple movement.

"And you expect me to trust you?" Carnak offered as a quick retort-- he was taken aback by the girl's sudden awakening, but he tried as hard as possible not to show it. "You're one of Mordren's agents, right? As soon as I turn around, you would stab me in the back. I know the way you people operate." Mac Morna drew another step closer.

Rosiel shrugged and tried to pull the threadbare fabric over her leg. "I have only met this man that you speak of, but I can assure you that I am no spy. I do not even carry a weapon. He offered me a room knowing that I have nothing but this scrap of cloth I wear." She didn't like the tone of his voice...it reminded her too much of the injustice she had received because of the Curse. He must know then what she was. All thoughts of starting a new life fled with just a few harshly spoken words. It would have been better to live in the desert alone for all eternity than to hear another harsh voice.

"Damnit girl! Stop lying to me!" The half-orc barked. Shortly thereafter, he heard the sound of footsteps passing hastily over the back hall's floorboards. "I truly am cursed, aren't I? Do I stand a chance of escaping this torment?" Carnak asked himself as he drew close to the door. He would be waiting on the inside when the person coming to inspect the room opened the door.

The words stung, and it showed in her eyes. She curls up on the bed and rests her chin on her knees, staring at the door rather than the man next to the door. What right did he have to call her a liar! She almost hoped it what Mordren. He'd been so kind to her, even though she was an obvious stranger to this city. She even felt a bit sorry for him, not knowing that he lived in the world of Arda. She never once looked away from the door, trying to hide her emotions and make herself appear calm.

The door opened quickly, and through it stepped Foster. He did not have any time to react to the tan-skinned fist aimed straight at his chin, and it connected, forcing him to the ground. The man slowly tried to rise, using his hands and knees, only to be met in the face with a bare foot. "And stay down, you bastard!" Cursed Carnak as he delivered a third kick to the man's ribs. But the third was unnecessary, the human had been rendered unconscious. "M'lady, if you will, now would be opportune to make our escape."

Shocked at his behavior, Rosiel simply stared. Foster might not seem the kindest person by his looks but he'd been polite enough with her. Had she been put in a room with a madman? She shook her head and slid off the bed, backing away to the wall. "Escape? What have I to escape from? I am a guest here." She didn't think it possible but now she longed for the desert, wishing she'd never let her curiosity take over as she stepped into that strange fog...

"Listen, girl. There are things at work here that you obviously do not comprehend. Mordren is not an innocent tavern-keeper. Foster is not simply his muscle. For God's sake, woman!" Carnak hissed, "Trust me, if we make our escape now, you will thank me in the long run. Or you can stay here and try to explain this body and my absence. But I assure you, Mordren doesn't take well to mistakes."

Anger replaced confusion and her icy blue eyes blazed. "How dare you call me a liar and a spy, then tell me I'm to follow you like some stupid animal follows it's master." She truly wished she'd not dropped her sword. The Oath sprang to her mind, the feelings of pride that the Oath had stirred. She was a child of the High King. Who was this man to order her about!?

But as quickly as the Oath brought pride, the memory of the Curse brought shame. Who was she to have any sense of self after she had taken so many innocent lives, all for a cause that an insane old man dreamed up? She shook her head and slid down the wall, curling up on the floor. The change in her mood was sudden, startling. "It is better that I remain. If this man is as you say he is, I deserve whatever judgment he would decree."

"Your choice, m’lady." Carnak pondered, for a moment, where he would go. Finally, he settled on the Barracks of Irae. "I am going to head for Irae's Barracks. Surely, the City guard will want to play a part in this." Which part, however, remained a mystery. "Farewell, m'lady," the half-orc offered as he stepped out of the room and into another, across the hall, searching for a window.

Rosiel waited a moment longer before standing and moving to Foster's side. She remembered a little of the healing skills they taught all warriors during the dark days. She checked his face for broken bones, then his side where he'd been kicked. She didn't know what good she would be, as all she knew how to do was bind wounds. She waited then, to see if Foster would open his eyes. She knew where the strange man was going, so she should surely tell Mordren and Foster, shouldn't she?

There is a scene missing here, wherein Rosiel is sent to re-acquire Carnak. I will post it as soon as I can get it from Rosiel.

The Bodywoman
Location: The Moon Raven
Players: Rosiel, Mordren
Date: November 12th/06

Synopsis: Having successfully recaptured the Il'Khan escapee, Rosiel proves herself to Mordren and is appointed as a lieutenant and his bodywoman.

Leaning against the wall, cloaked in shadows, Rosiel watched Carnak with mild curiosity. She still didn't know what exactly this half-orc had done to anger Mordren so badly that he would want his capture at any cost. When the city's guard had failed to live up to their end of the bargain Mordren had sent a young girl he barely knew, determining that she would be the one to bring him back his prize captive. [Rosiel]

Mordren Thral'Athos entered the room with a crossed look upon his face, and his first actions matched the expression. He wasted no time in drawing his short sword and approaching the kneeling Mac Morna, who was covered in various wounds. "Bastard," he muttered as he cut another gash deep across the half-orc's chest. "You dare," he continues, slashing a second time, "to defy me?" A third cleave. Unable to sustain any more torment, the Il'Khan Chieftain fell flat to the floor, whimpering in pain. Tears dropped from his eyes. [Mordren]

Sheathing his blade, Mordren turned to Rosiel with a smile. "Thank you," he offered in a kind voice, completely unlike the demeanor with which he regarded the half-orc only a few moments previous. [Mordren]

Rosiel nodded to Mordren, her eyes still on the fallen half-orc, her curiosity getting the better of her. She'd never seen anything like him before, which was saying a great deal. She thought she'd seen every kind of creature in Arda, but this whimpering tan creature before her was something new altogether. "You took quite a risk entrusting his capture to me. Can I ask why?" [Rosiel]

"A test," replied the Assassin as he glanced at Carnak once more, "as I am sure you have discovered, he is not exactly an easy fight. This one has killed more warriors in battle than I could ever hope to kill myself. The difference is, of course, he prefers the blunt and physical approach." Taking a few steps forward, Mordren stood over the half-orc. While I prefer to utilize subterfuge. But we're both equally brutal." With that, the human kicked his captive in the shoulder, and Carnak issued forth another whine. [Mordren]

Soft footsteps signal that Rosiel has left her perch in the shadows, joining Mordren as he stares down at Carnak. "I take from the sound of your voice that he's killed many of your own men." It was more a question rather than a statement, but she didn't dare push what little edge she had here. She was lucky, or destined it seemed, to be where she was and she'd not do anything to jeopardize her luck. "What do you plan to do with him now?" [Rosiel]

"I'm planning on keeping him," replies Mordren, "but in this state. I'll have Naelmi nurse him for a day or two, and then beat him on the third, and continue this treatment. It's what he deserves." Looking to Rosiel, the Assassin changes the subject. "I'm thinking of appointing you as one of my lieutenants. What would you say?" [Mordren]




"How could I refuse? You have been very kind to me Mordren and I could not turn away such an offer." (Even if I wanted to) she thought to herself. Taking her eyes off of Carnak to meet her new employers’, Rosiel smiles slightly, her eyes glowing a soft blue, reflecting whatever light there is in the room. [Rosiel]

"Good," replied Mordren with a smile, "because I can't think of anybody else who would be better for the job." Looking towards the door of the chamber, the Assassin searches for the best way to say what he is thinking. He was more than thankful for what the girl had done for him. "You've done me a good service, here, bringing this orc back to me. I'm not entirely certain I could've caught him myself." [Mordren]

With a smirk that said she didn't buy that last admission one bit, Rosiel shook her head. "You are obviously a very bright man Mordren, or you would not have had the success you so obviously have. You would have found a way to recapture the half-orc eventually." Flattery would get her everywhere, at least that's what her father had taught her. [Rosiel]

"Maybe not," Mordren concedes with a nod. While he found Rosiel a capable employee, he also felt somewhat uncomfortable around her, even more since her display with Damien only a few nights previous. The fact that she could be so accurate and quick with knives kept the Assassin on the edge with her constantly. "How would you like to accompany me on my next mission?" he inquired, remembering the note which had been stuck to the Moon Raven's door earlier that evening, with the name 'Islero Montiar' written very clearly upon it. [Mordren]

Rosiel raises an eyebrow and watches Mordren carefully. She could tell he wasn't comfortable around her, which was just as well. It didn't do any good for someone to get too close to her. "Might I inquire about the nature of this mission before I agree?" She withdraws a dagger from her wrist sheath and picks at her nails. [Rosiel]

The Assassin nods. He wouldn't have expected anything less, after all, he would never accept a mission without knowing what it involved either. "It's a simple one, really. We'll just be paying a shopkeeper a visit and seeing what sort of taxes we can draw from him." With a smile, Mordren continues, "I like to handle those types of jobs myself. I feel that, even though it's risky for businessmen to know my face, it has more impact if I show up to make the demands." It also helped him to know that he had the Arms Master of Irae on his payroll, as well. [Mordren]

Great, she was going to be playing backup to a thug collecting "taxes". Now she knew what kind of business was running behind the scenes. Rosiel tried not to roll her eyes as she glanced back at Mordren. "And what part am I to play exactly? Surely you don't need an assistant to something so simple." [Rosiel]




"No, not an assistant. You'll be doing something far more important than assisting me," Mordren replies, surprised by Rosiel's attitude. "You are going to be making sure that I don't wind up dead. Some of these businessmen are quite cut throat, literally and metaphorically speaking." [Mordren]

Laughing, Rosiel sheathes her dagger and glances at Carnak, nudging him aside so she can stand in the light and see Mordren better. "I suppose I could do that. My reflexes are getting a bit slow and my aim is off." Her face and voice betrayed no amusement as she said this. It would be good to see how Mordren took her jokes, since no one had ever understood her dry humor before. [Rosiel]

"I get the impression that you're not too keen on the idea," the Assassin states. Rosiel's sarcasm was not lost on him. "Would you prefer something that involves combat? Killing somebody, perhaps? I was only trying to ease you into the lifestyle. I've seen people who couldn't take it, and who hurt themselves because of the change. Apparently, there's a lot of pressure in killing another person. I've never felt it.” [Mordren]

Shrugging, Rosiel stretches and turns away. "I've killed more people than this toy of yours has Mordren. Death does not cause me any discomfort." She wouldn't mention that almost all of the lives she'd taken were innocents, women and children, old men or those just unwilling to fight. That was the reason for the Curse, of that she had no doubt. And all for the pride of her father. "But no, I would not prefer to fight, if you think my skills worthy enough to protect your life, you shall have them." [Rosiel]

"I leave that much to you. I don't think your skills are enough, I trust you enough to ask you to protect me. If you don't want to, then I can get somebody else. Maybe Drixi'd be willing to take the job." Mordren placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, toying with it.
As he slid it in and out of the scabbard, the blood that was still somewhat fresh upon its tip caught the light and gave the blade an almost eerie gloss. "It's up to you, really. I won't force you to do anything." [Mordren]

The blood on the floor and the blade was not lost on Rosiel, taking a toll on her concentration. Her eyes began to glow softly in the darkness, and she was glad she could hide that as a trick of the light in this room. She hadn't felt a need to drink the blood of her victims in ages, learning to steal the energy from a person without their knowledge was so much easier, leaving no visible marks that would label her as a vampire. [Rosiel]

"Drixi is much too clumsy for the kind of work you're asking. All I need to know is where and when, your life could not be in more capable hands." Not to mention that if Drixi took the job then he would gloat over his success, where she would quietly let the moment pass and he would no doubt fume that he had not been asked. [Rosiel]

"Good, it's good to know I can trust you." With a smile, Mordren turned towards the door. "I don't know when I'm going to head out, yet. I've been thinking about a few nights from now. But when I do come to a decision, I'll be sure to let you know, alright?" [Mordren]

"Of course. Don't forget to clean your blade. It would be a shame to let it rust because of the orc's blood." She didn't bother to watch Mordren leave, her eyes on the orc at her feet, her tongue touching the tip of her fangs lightly. She should really go find some stupid boy to drain, not someone who was already close enough to death's door. With a final glance she turned and walked away, glad for the soft soles of her boots. She would be able to sneak much easier in these. [Rosiel]