The Inn of the Singing Rose

Title: Captive Again
Date: 12/07/2006
Characters: Gliowien, Mordren, Drixi
NPC's: none
Synopsis: Gliowien brews up a storm while Mordren and Drixi brew up trouble. The two scoundrels kidnap Gliowien after a brief struggle and a quite wrecked Apothecary, their intents being to ransom her to Leon.


The Apothecary

Clean white walls meet the eye upon entrance. The floor of the apothecary is paved with tiles of dark cut stone. A long row of shelves cover the west wall, filled with tinted bottles of medicines and tinctures brewed from well keptfamily secrets. Baskets of fresh herbs are left to dry on the wide windows of the west wall, creating a potpourri of sharp, spicy and pungent scents in the air. A low wall halves the shop, separating a space for customers to purchaseherbal prescriptions and a workroom for the apothecarist to brew and research on the medicines. The workroom is simple - with two bookshelves lining the back of the space, lined with tomes and journals diligently scribed with records of illnesses and diseases. Beside the shelf is a low table on which a wooden cross is placed. A silver beaded rosary is hung over the cross and a tiny clay bowl of flowers placed before it. A low archway nearby reveals a stairway draped by a peacock blue weave, leading upwards to a private loft.



The sun was beginning to set, not that Glia could tell that from the windowless back room that served as a workroom in her Apothecary. Insufficiently stocked?! How shocked she'd been to hear that said of her shop! A young woman had come in the other day asking for a vial of a ground root that she, of course, had, but the woman had mentioned she was reluctant to come and check since she'd heard it been said that the shop was poorly stocked! Her efforts to improve the image of her Apothecary had run her nearly to the point of absentmindedness as she dashed about brewing this and grinding that...mixing one tincture and bottling another. Glia had stopped bothering to put her hair up in a bun, after all, Leon was in Viengras and not in Irae. She did make sure to keep it out of her way with a headband though; no one wants hair in a remedy! Though it was growing late, it still wasn't late enough for Gliowien to bother locking up her shop, after all, emergencies don't always happen in the daylight. [Gliowien]


With twilight descending upon the city, Irae's assassin left his tavern in the care of Naelmi and Foster while he left on an operation. The plans for this mission had been at work in the back of his mind for some time. He had heard that the Marquis of Irae had found a certain love interest, and he had also heard who that person was on the rumor mill. So, after gathering with a trusted colleague, Mordren Thral'Athos had set off for his destination-- the Healing Haven. [Mordren]

A few streets away from the Moon Raven Drixi waits in the shadows, his black leather armor shining dully from the nearby streetlamp. After a moment or two he spies the person he was waiting for, stepping out of the shadows Drixi intercepts Mordren and begins walking with him "What is this about?" The troll inquires, "You only left me a message to meet you on the way to the Healing Haven." [Drixi]

Putting out her workroom fire used for brewing, Gliowien started arranging her potions into their spots on the cooling rack before they could be placed in the store shelves. Half-way through moving all the potions, Gliowien drops one and it splatters all over the place. The sea-green liquid was a simple rejuvination potion and it caused the minty fragrance to fill the room. Stopping herself before she could mutter a random string of elven curses, Gliowien realizes her effort would be better spent cleaning the mess and she heads off to the small storage closet in the corner between the main room and the workroom. Grabbing a towel, the broom, and a mop, Glia heads back to the mess and kneels, starting in on the task at hand. [Gliowien]

Waving off the thug that was following him, Mordren looks at Drixi with a light expression. As he spoke, steam exitted his lips. "We're going to take a hostage. I imagine we'll be able to fetch a considerable price for this one. My web has it that she's currently fraternizing with the Marquis," the assassin begins, "And you know how much a man will pay to save his lovebird, right?" A mighty chuckle rose from the human as he drew a black scarf up and over his chin to cover his mouth. "Are you in, or are you out?" [Mordren]

Staring straight ahead Drixi's eyes begin to glaze over as he tries to figure the possbile outcomes of this night. There was a good chance the Marquis would try to get the hostage back by force. Fortunately, he might also think that wasted gold would be better than wasted lives. [Drixi]

His attention is not completely diverted to his thoughts though, as they walk he notices hopeful pickpockets and thieves shrinking back into the side streets when they realize what their prey is.
[Drixi]

"I am in." Chuckling, Drixi continues, "Just pray that the Marquis doesn't send his army after you...." [Drixi]

The liquid as absorbed as it can be by the small towel, Glia tosses it to the rag bin she uses and stands to begin sweeping up the broken glass. It was a good thing her Auntie Shaelle had bought her shoes shortly after her arrival in the city! Gliowien would not quite have had such an easy time of this cleanup with glass in her feet... Dismissing that thought, Gliowien realizes as she stands that she'd forgotten to get the dustpan and so she heads back to the closet near the shop room. [Gliowien]

Drixi's words only caused Mordren's doubts to resurface as he approached the door of the Healing Haven. "Certainly, the Marquis' army is something to be concerned about. But I don't intend to bargain with him personally, and I don't intend for the woman to be seeing much while she's in our company. I'll be keeping her where I'm keeping the orc." Knocking on the Haven, the assassin stood alert while he waited for Gliowien to open the door. [Mordren]

Stepping away from the door and into the nearby shadows Drixi sets himself up to watch through the window until the time is right. There was no need for him to be at the door, his presence would probably keep her from letting them inside. "With the orc you say..." While pondering this bit of information Drixi says, "Make sure the door is left unlocked, I don't feel like making alot of unnecessary noise." [Drixi]

Gliowien hears the knock at the door and leaves the broom against the worktable, beside the mop and the door to the storage closet wide open as she rushes to the door. Surely someone must need help to knock at this hour...Glia doesn't even bother peering out through the window beside the door as she goes to it and opens it quickly. "Vedui.." Glia looks slightly puzzled as the human doesn't look sickly or injured. "Is there anything I can help you with, Sir?" Her green eyes catch the moonlight as she tries to discern the reason for the late visit...maybe he was delivering a message?

Not even offering an explanation, Mordren steps inward as if trying to force himself through the doorway. "Miss!" he shouts in a wild voice, as if he had just witnessed something horrible. "Miss! A boy... in the Corte! He was run down by a carraige! Miss!" Grabbing at his hair with his two gloved hands, the assassin looked genuinely distressed. "Quick! Bring a healing salve! Or a potion! Whatever! Miss!" [Mordren]

A child run over by a carriage?! Gliowien coudln't think of anything more worthy of being distressed over and her eyes widened. A potion or salve would only do so much but it would certainly help until the child could be moved to the Haven; Glia turned to go to the shelf and grab two of her strongest healing potions. "Then we must hurry!" her long waves nearly circling around her in her turn and rush. [Gliowien]

With a wave of his hand, Mordren signals for Drixi to enter. He then makes a second wave as an order, 'close the door'. Those motions complete, the assassin drew a dagger from its scabbard, concealed just within his sleeve. Slowly, as silently as possible, he approaches the owner of the Healing Haven, his face taking on a more menacing expression with each step. [Mordren]

Unsheathing one of his long knives Drixi steps into the Healing Haven, more intent on intimidation than violence at the moment. His eyes adjust quickly to the light inside of the shop, silently closing the door behind him Drixi waits for the small woman to turn around. [Drixi]

Though her hearing was impeccable as any elf's, Gliowien's fear for the, uknown to her, non-existent child completely occupied her thoughts as she stood on tiptoes to grab the bottles of blue liquid. "Two should be enough to stabilize the most dangerously wounded..." she comments, mostly to herself, under her breath as she finally manages to grab them both. Whirling around to ask the man to lead her to the child, Glia's eyes widen in horror as she sees the drawn dagger and knives. Attempting to scream for help, her voice only manages to get caught in her throat with her mouth still moving. It probably would have looked comical to them, as if she were a fish out of water as she stood there gaping in horror. Her hands, her whole body actually, shook in fear and both bottles of healing potion crashed to the ground. Glia didn't even notice the sound of the smashing glass or the liquid splashing onto the bottom of her dress. [Gliowien]

Drawing within an inch of his prey, Mordren's eyes shone in the light of the room, though this could easily be mistaken for the glow of a hunter about to slaughter his victim. "Now, now," he offers in a somewhat soft voice, though there is no effort to hide the malevolent tone that lingers just below the surface of the words, "there's no need to scream. What is your name, miss?" [Mordren]

Once more, the human's hand is raised as he motions for Drixi to approach. The troll would be helpful in intimidating the girl, and also in carrying her should she collapse of her fear-- certainly, this was not unheard of. [Mordren]

Carefully noticing the color and texture of the potions the elf had dropped Drixi eyes the shelves looking for more of it. A healing potion or two could be quite useful in the near future. After seeing Mordren motion him forward Drixi approaches the elven girl. As he towers over her he also reaches to one of the top shelves to grab a potion that appeared to be the same as the ones she had dropped. [Drixi]

With the potion in his hand Drixi takes a step back and levels his gaze on the girl, hoping she would come willingly rather than have to be carried. [Drixi]

~No need to scream...What's your name, child?~ Just as she did when she was but a young girl of 8, Glia trembled worse as she heard the tone of voice and those words. "Gliowien," She'd answered, just as she did now with just as timid of a voice, her eyes avoiding his as she tried not to panic. How she remembered them...the violet eyes, dark skin and white and silver hair. And she remembered Him...Jakaar...he'd lifted her chin and nodded in appraisal before motioning to his band of mercenaries. Had HE sent these two? Her mind snapped back to the present and she backed away, her hands still shaking, glass crunching beneath her feet. "Please..." she stammered, "Please just leave me be...yyou can't take me back!" Glia tries to run into the workroom with every intention of locking herself in there if she had to in order to avoid, what she assumed to be, the men sent to take her back to her former Master. [Gliowien]

"Back?" Mordren vocalizes his thoughts with a touch of confusion, but he quickly masks the outburst with a chuckle. "Whatever makes you think we're taking you -back- to anyone? Oh no, m'lady. I'm intent on taking you to a place you've probably never been." That said, the human throws his dagger, and it strikes a beaker with a resounding crash! The contents rushed out of the broken glass as the assassin crossed the chamber to collect his blade. [Mordren]

"Gliowien....I have heard that name somewhere before" Drixi drawls, "But I cannot recall where, nor who said it." Tucking the potion into a pouch behind his back Drixi steps back away from the girl. Leaning against the wall of the shop he hears the plaster crackle and break. "Perhaps you will come with us willingly so that we do not have to do anything drastic..." [Drixi]

The metallic zing in the air and the crash of a beaker just in front of her being impaled and broken by a dagger put a sudden halt to Glia's attempts at running. Her hopes sank as her fears rose to even more dangerous heights and her muscles stiffened with the fear. "But...but...please...yyou can't do this!" she pleaded, feeling just as small as she had some 119 years ago. Small and defenseless... [Gliowien]

"Please, -stop- your whining, woman!" Mordren shouted as he sheathed his dagger, withdrawing his short sword instead. "You would think I am Fear incarnate!" Adjusting his scarf, which had been slipping, the human paces now. He has positioned himself between Gliowien and her workroom. "I give you my word, as a gentleman," the human said in a mock polite tone, "that I won't harm you if you come with me." [Mordren]

Gliowien realizes she can't get away from them and can't change their intentions. Certainly she couldn't fight them. Gentleman? Gentleman her left foot! No gentleman would lie to and draw swords upon a lady! Anger more than fear now burns within her but she dares not act upon it. Instread, she lowers her eyes again and mutters, "As if I have a choice."

"Good! I'm glad to see that you've resigned to your fate," Mordren says in a jovial manner. "Now, if you please." Pointing towards Drixi, the assassin tries to direct his captive into the arms of his colleague. He then turns towards the workroom, and steps within. In a few moments, he has knocked things about the room in a mannner that, by all appearances, indicated a struggle. His job done there, the human moved into the main chamber once more and shoved the row of freshly-brewed potions from the cooling rack to the floor. This accomplished, Mordren sheathed his short sword and withdrew a folded piece of parchment from his pocket, once more drawing the dagger he had used to frighten the girl. With two swift motions, he drives the note into the open door of the woman's workroom. "I apologize for the damages. I'll be sure to repay you with some of the Marquis' ransom." [Mordren]

Moving away from the wall Drixi goes to stand in front of the girl. Making sure that Mordren is in the other room he flashes her a brief smile, "No harm will come to you if you cooperate with us. The more difficult you make it for us the harder he will be on you." Withdrawing some finely woven rope from his pouch he holds it up, "This is merely a precautionary measure, your hands please."His gaze hardens again as Mordren re-enters to room, but he continues to stand patiently. [Drixi]

Ransom...so that was what it was all about. These scoundrels were after her dear Leon's money and intended to use her to get it. A feeling of guilt crept into her heart...how is it that trouble seemed to follow her around so? Something else was rousing within her though...a worry. Worry no doubt inspired and spurred by the rumors that the Marquis might not actually return from Viengras. If Leon's mother had managed to pursuade Leon to give up any ideas of ....surely not... The troll's words and request pulled her from her thoughts and she merely nodded, avoiding his eyes as she held out her hands reluctantly. She didn't say a word at that point, determined not to lose faith in her beloved Leon. [Gliowien]

The sounds of the human destroying all her heard work and livelihood couldn't even pull her from the protective shell that was trying to form about her mind. She couldn't, no wouldn't, let anything change her...not after Leon's last letter. After all, that was the whole reason she gave up the lessons that Sophia has so insisted upon. [Gliowien]

Triumphant at last, Mordren took the path he usually followed after he achieved a victory-- and gloated about it. "We're sure to fetch a high price for her, indeed," the human thought aloud as he took in the woman's form, "if not from her lover, the Marquis, then from some man seeking a fine servant?" This thought made the human chuckle rather loudly, before adding, "Or perhaps I'll take her as my own. Yes, that might do as well, if the Marquis fails to bid, or fails to offer a bid worthy of her." Now, withdrawing a second scarf from his pocket, Thral'Athos offers it to Drixi. "Gag her. I don't want her screaming on our walk home." [Mordren]

At Mordren's words, Gliowien's eyes widen and starts to take a step towards the human. She thrust a foot towards his left shin and opened her mouth with every intention to give him a good elven cursing...perhaps even casting a clerical curse within the stream to spew forth. Anger and fear now turning her as violent as the woman had ever become, not that it was very violent, given the circumstances. [Gliowien]

Grabbing the elf before she could get too far Drixi sets her into a vacant chair and gently stuffs the gag into her mouth. "I told you to cooperate with us, you are not cooperating." With one hand pressed against her shoulders holding the elf in the chair Drixi turns to Mordren. "Are you finished yet or do you intend to draw attention to this establishment?" [Drixi]

"Oh no, I'm quite done," Mordren said with a grin. He was pleased to see his lieutenant acting in such an authoritative manner. "Well done. Let's take her home." Of course the human was referring to the Moon Raven, but he did not want to utter the name of the establishment within Gliowien's earshot for the sole purpose that the Marquis would, eventually, be reacquiring her. [Mordren]

In the Cellar
Date: 12/08/2006
Characters: Gliowien, Mordren, Carnak
NPCs: None.

Synopsis: Mordren returns to the Ryven with the kidnapped Gliowien, and casts her into the cellar, where she makes the acquaintence of an old orc.

The Moon Raven was not at all busy when Mordren Thral'Athos arrived with his catch. This made things considerably easier on him. Leading the girl, Gliowien, through the maze of tables and chairs and the occasional group of customers, the two eventually reached the back hallway of the establishment. Opening one door which led into a storage closet, and then opening the trapdoor within the closet, Mordren left his captive while he collected a glowing torch from the hallway. That done, he returned, and told the girl, "Be careful, now. I'm going to lead you down a staircase." Placing a hand upon her shoulder, the human ushered her downward into the darkness of the cellar below. [Mordren]

A natural born klutz, Gliowien realizes that herself plus a blindfold plus stairs equals a big mistake, but she realizes that telling him would not stop his intentions or change his methods so she remains silent. After only two or three steps, the thin elven lady loses her footing... the way her ankle twists as she drops and begins to tumble down the stairs is enough to make her stomach sick. Surely she'd had worse injuries, but now was not the time or place for her to have to worry about a bad sprain or...judging from the pain, perhaps worse. The actual tumble itself was blurred due to the flash of white within her mind caused by the intense pain. Next thing she knew, she was well...somewhat on her back at the bottom of the stairs. She presumed from the darkness felt even behind the blindfold and the dank smell that she was either in a basement or a cellar, likely the latter judging from the smell. Though a soft whimper emits from her lips, her brow furrowed from the pain, she does not say a word. [Gliowien]

The clamour at the stairway brought the sleeping Mac Morna back to consciousness, and he peered through the darkness with his failing eyes in a vain attempt to make out what caused the ruckus. "Who's there?" he called, his voice dry and cracked, before the illumination of the torch finally lit up parts of the room and he could see Mordren upon the stairwell, and another person-- a woman-- at the foot of it, sprawled out on her back. [Carnak]

The human grimaced for a brief moment as he watched the girl tumble, but quickly concealed the expression when he heard the half-orc calling from within. "Mac Morna, I've brought you a guest," he taunts, tossing the torch from the stairwell into the middle of the room. "Enjoy." That said, the assassin left the chamber with an apparent lack of concern for his newest prisoner, closing the trapdoor with a rather loud thump. What sounds like a chain being wrapped around the handle of the door echoes through the room, and then the human's footsteps. And, finally, silence. [Mordren]

Enjoy? Gliowien was scared to even think of what the man might have meant by his words to the other unfortunate prisoner down here. At least she assumed if he were also locked within wherever this place was. Painfully, Glia forced herself into a sitting position and lifted her bound hands to her face to try to move the blindfold away from her eyes. As she did so she realized the knot had loosened a little...perhaps enough to rid herself of her bindings? In her haste to wriggle her wrists free of the ropes, she didn't even bother to look about her new surroundings. After all, the other person was probably bound as well. "Blasted ropes..." she murmers to herself as she finally slips one thin wrist
free and then slides it off the other as well and tosses the rope in no particular direction. [Gliowien]

"Ropes?" the half-orc called out at the shape he could barely make out. His inability to clearly see the shape of the person—definitely female, by her voice alone—was not due to a lack of light. The torch which Mordren had tossed into the room was burning brightly, even though it rested on the cold earthen floor. But after several weeks in the darkness of the cellar, and repeated beatings, Carnak had lost much of his ability to see in general. He was going blind. "You should consider yourself lucky, girl, in that ropes were all you got." For emphasis, Mac Morna shook his right leg as much as possible-- which wasn't much-- producing a metallic ring as the chains binding him to the wall came into contact with each other. [Carnak]

Gliowien looks up as she realizes she'd forgotten for the moment that there was another being present...a half-orc by the looks of him, and not in the best of shape. "I...I realize that, Sir....hhow long has he kept you here?" she asks more softly, pain causing her voice to sound a bit more tense than its usual melodic tone. Her ankle was swelling and she pulled it closer to herself to examine in the flickering torchlight. The skin itself wasn't broken...but she couldn't move her ankle and it was swelling uncomfortably. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to clear her mind of the pain and prayed to Sarane for healing...for some reason it always took more energy from her to heal herself than others. A crunching sound, not unlike those heard as she fell down the stairs moments earlier, causes Glia to blanch few shades paler than usual and she nearly faints from the pain of the bones popping back in place. Unfortunately, she would still need to stay off her ankle for it to heal properly. [Gliowien]

"Weeks? Months? It could be years, now, it doesn't seem to matter. My name has probably been forgotten now, up in the city." Hearing the squeaking of a mouse, the half-orc is drawn from his thoughts. "Come here," he calls to the rodent, and as it approaches, Carnak catches it in his hand and draws it in to his open mouth. With a loud crunch, Mac Morna tears the head from the creature and swallows it down-- bones and all. "You'll find that the rodents down here are delicacies, in time. He doesn't feed me much." Catching the blood dripping from the headless creature, Carnak sips at it. "He doesn't give me much to drink, either." [Carnak]

Trying her best not to heave from the mixture of pain and disgust at the fact that the half-orc had just hungrily devoured a mouse, Gliowien closes her eyes and whispers more to herself than to her deity...as her deity seemed to only really help her when it came to healing, "Sarane save me!" A moment passed before she steadied her stomach enough to speak again. "That sounds worse than those dreadful fried bat wings Jakaar used to feed me," she shudders again and decides she'll probably have the same resolve as then...only eating when she absolutely had to. "As for the ropes, I've been chained before just as you are now. The rope burn is worse." Her words are blunt and obviously from experience. It wasn't as if she had anything to hide here of all places. [Gliowien]

The half-orc nodded. "Rope burn is a painful experience, but at least you can bite through a rope. The same cannot be said for a cold, metal chain, hmm?" In a few more seconds, Mac Morna finished his small meal, and dragged himself closer to Gliowien. "Who was Jakkar?" [Carnak]

Disregarding the second question a moment, she had to laugh and shake her head, "YOU, Sir, might be able to bite through a rope, but I assure you I cannot." Perhaps it was her nervousness that allowed the somewhat cautious giggles, but, whatever it was, Glia was thankful that something could break the stream of worries from her thoughts a moment. His second question brought her back to her more somber mood, "He...well...he was my former master, before I escaped and came to this city. Such a sadistic man, a drow mercenary prince." Each word spoken about him is heavily laced with disgust and hatred. [Gliowien]

At the mention of 'drow', Carnak growled. "I -loathe- drow. There are few creatures in all of this world that fill me with more rage than that despicable race. If I had it my way, every last one of them would be caught and quartered, and then fed to the dogs." Realizing that he was in mixed company, the half-orc reined in his anger. "I apologize, m'lady. It's been quite some time since I've had a decent conversation with anybody other than Mordren. I've lost my sense of decorum." [Carnak]

Gliowien laughs again and shakes her head, "Don't worry about it...I've not met a drow yet that I didn't either fear or hate, thanks to previous experience of course." She sighed loudly and closed her eyes a moment to bracer herself as she used her arms to scoot herself backwards to the wall, not daring to put an ounce of weight on her still fragile ankle. "I just hope that I get out of here soon..." [Gliowien]

"I'd help you, if I were my usual self. But life down here has taken quite a bit out of me..." Carnak drifted, for a few moments. Eventually, he came back to his thoughts. "What is your name anyway, m'lady? At present, I wouldn't bet on a quick escape. We'd best get acquainted with one another, right?" He did not mean to sound impolite, nor menacing in what he had said, but after the words escaped his lips Mac Morna thought about how the girl would take them. "Not that I mean to say you'll be down here forever. But seeing as how neither of us seem to know when he'll let you free, right? Have you any clue what he took you for?" [Carnak]

Nodding resignedly, Gliowien admits, "I do know why he took me...he wishes to hold me for ransom." Doing her best to hold back her anger, Glia tries to distract herself, "But as to your first question...My name is Gliowien Fairindale, but most people just call me Glia. What is your name?" In the back of her mind, she ponders his words...'if he were his usual self'...perhaps she could heal him and they could escape? She'd escaped much more elaborately guarded places than this certainly...it was a distinct possibility. [Gliowien]



"Ransom? And who would he be ransoming you to?" Carnak inquired, with a strong touch of curiousity in his voice. This Gliowien must have come from a rich family, or must have been married to a rich man. One of the two-- Mordren was not known for taking captives for ransom. [Carnak]

Gliowien closes her eyes and leans back against the wall more heavily. "Leon...the man I love." Just mentioning his name and knowing that she was trapped down here, not even knowing when anyone would notice the mess at the apothecary and get word to Leon...it broke her heart and terrified her at the same time. Surely, someone would notice before long, right? Though the still unnamed half-orc was kind enough, she did not care to be trapped in a basement with him for too overly long! "You didn't tell me your name, Sir...Not that I'd recognize it if you've been gone so long as you think though." [Gliowien]

"Mac Morna, m'lady Fairindale. My name is Carnak Mac Morna." Introductions aside, the half-orc made his way for the nearest wall. It had become a common occurrence that he would suddenly and for no apparent reason become dizzy, and he was experiencing one of those spells. "I used to be with the city guard," he added— with no lack of pride in his voice— upon reaching the wall. [Carnak]

"Are you alright, Mr. Mac Morna?" Glia asks curiously, as a cleric she felt such curiosity as to others' well beings much more strongly than most. She scooted herself somewhat closer. "You look to be dizzy, do you get lightheaded often?" she questions and tilts her head to the side somewhat. [Gliowien]

"From time to time," Carnak finally replied as he shook off the dizzy spell. When his eyes came back into focus, he could see Gliowien more clearly than before. "They go away quickly, though. Likely from the lack of food and drink, or possibly because I've been living on mice for so long. Regardless, they take a lot of energy out of me... I'm growing tired. Would you mind if I cut our chat short?" [Carnak]

Gliowien shakes her head, "Of course not, Sir...I should rest as well after casting such a strong healing spell. To be such a high level spell, it still doesn't even make my ankle strong enough to walk on yet." The last is more muttered than spoken aloud but audible to most any with decent hearing, then again, she had the hearing of an elf... [Gliowien]

Reclining on her side with only a few moments of careful repositioning, Glia rests her head on her hands and finds that she was even more tired than she'd thought. [Gliowien]

Title: ...As the Il'Khan and Hopes Both Fall
Date: 12/11/2006
Characters: Gliowien, Mordren, Carnak
NPCs: Foster.
Synopsis: In the morning, Mordren's prisoners continue their discussion. But neither of them could expect what is in store...


The floor beneath her was cold and she'd not been able to take a cloak with her when she was taken from the apothecary. Glia shivered in her sleep and nestled to the corner she was resting against but this shifted her ankle more than what was comfortable and she cried out softly. The pain, as well as her involuntary vocalization of it, brought her to consciousness and she pulled herself up carefully to a sitting position leaning against the wall. Sleepily, she rubbed her eyes and peered around into the darkness. The torch that had been tossed onto the floor had burnt out, leaving little light to be able to discern where her fellow captive was or if he was even awake. It shocked Glia how fast her eyes were readjusting to the low-light environment though, and it reminded her too much to the dungeon that Jakaar had kept her in. She'd had a dream about him last night, a nightmare rather. Hopefully she hadn't cried or whimpered too much in her sleep and woke Carnak. [Gliowien]

Mac Morna had been awake for several hours, though dwelling in a half-daze for many of them. This was the way most days were spent: lying about on the floor, half-awake-- he appeared to be aware of his surroundings but was not receptive. The girl's shout, however, tore him from that place that he so often drifted off too. It reminded him of many things, first and foremost of Orlaith-- his lost love; and then of the screams of pain he heard in the dungeons of Krozloy during the first revolutionary war against his reign. "Are you alright?" Carnak inquired of the darkness as he began to stir, his chains rattling with the sudden movement of his legs. [Carnak]

Starting to nod, but then realizing that he wouldn't be able to see her, Glia called out soft, "Yes, I...I just moved wrong and put weight on my hurt ankle..." As long as he'd not been able to hear if she'd sobbed in her sleep or such, that answer would suffice without her having to go into the whole issue of the dream. And Jakaar. She'd been out of his grasps a half a year now...and yet he still haunted her darkest nightmares. Just the memory of his intense violet eyes piercing the darkness sent a shudder throughout her body. [Gliowien]

"So tell me, yesterday, you spoke of a man named Leon. Who is he?" inquired Carnak. In all of his time spent in the cellar and away from the city, the half-orc had missed the arrival of the new Marquis and, as such, still believed that Augustine was running the city. "Other than your love, of course. You've already told me that." As he spoke, Mac Morna peered into the darkness with his one good eye, and the gift of his race-- that is, the ability to see slightly better in the dark-- worked towards his benefit. He could make out the general shape of his fellow prisoner, and of the furniture in the room. He could also see the door which opened into the Moon Raven's storage closet. [Carnak]

Who was Leon? Glia lets out a soft sigh as she thought of how she missed him, "One of the few people who has been kind to me since I came to this town...with the purest heart of any man I've met before. This city is very lucky to have him as Marquis, almost as lucky as I am that he fell in love with me as I have him." A flush crosses her cheeks, though it is easily enough unnoticed in the darkness of the cellar. As if a half-orc would really care about some stranger's love interest's personality and heart. Sometimes she really could curse herself for gushing like some lovesick teenager, but she could not help herself. [Gliowien]

"What?" the half-orc replied with a raised voice. "What do you mean, Marquis? What happened to Augustine?" The half-orc dragged himself away from the wall, closer to the shadow that he believed belonged to Gliowien. "What sort of conspiracies have gone unnoticed without my watch?" Suddenly, something had come over Carnak, had rekindled the aggressive spirit that lingered within him in years past. "Is that why Isiredo annexed my position as Arms Master? Filthy human scum!" [Carnak]

"Augustine? I...I don't know of whom you speak Mr. Mac Morna, Sir. I have hard of no conspiracies, but I do know that Leon became Marquis at the behest of the Trademeister." Her voice goes from confusion to an uneasiness as she says more softly, "That drow frightens me." [Gliowien]

"I apologize," the half-orc replied, returning to his passive tone. "It is clear that the City has gone on and changed in spite of me." Dragging himself away, back towards the wall, Carnak grows silent for a few moments before he proclaims, "I spent some time on planning earlier this morning—or perhaps this evening, one can never tell. I think I've discovered a way that we can break out of this pit." [Carnak]

Her eyes widen and she tries to eagerly move to her feet, forgetting the lame ankle until the pain hit her and she dropped back to the wall. The fall slings her head against the wall somewhat roughly and she closes her eyes a moment and mutters, doing her best to keep from cursing, especially in the presence of another. [Gliowien]

"Are you okay?" Carnak asked as he heard and witnessed the girl's fall and the subsequent head-first crash into the wall behind her. "If I had've known that your reaction would have been so-- for lack of a better word-- foolish, I wouldn't have said what was on my mind. But, since what is done is, indeed, done... Would you like me to explain myself?" [Carnak]

Foolish. She'd been called that more than once and she felt it strongly now. Through teeth gritted from pain, she answers, "Please do..." The throbbing was starting to lessen and the dizziness let up just slightly, but she realized she was going to think back to the days of planning her escape and not act before fully being aware of what could happen. [Gliowien]

"Mordren comes down here to feed me once every few days. He serves to me whatever small scraps he gathers from the meals of his customers. However, since you are of value to him, he may make his visits more... frequent," Carnak began, "I believe that, if we are careful about the manner in which we operate, we can take him by surprise and kill him. He most certainly carries the key to my shackles with him, and I already know of a route out of here once we are out of this cellar." [Carnak]

Gliowien quickly shakes her head in shock at the idea, "I...I couldn't help kill anyone! Ssurely you realize I am a cleric...I revolve my life around healing people, not dealing the wounds myself!" In fact, she'd never even killed an animal except some pesky insect that had bitten her or such. Her heart sank even further and she barely whispered, "There has to be some other way..." [Gliowien]

"Well, what other plan can you think of? He's not simply going to let you out without acquiring as much gold as he can. And he will never set me free. Not in one thousand years," growled Carnak. "There is only one thing that his kind understands, and that is violence. Thral'Athos must be killed if I am to escape. And I can't stand to think of what he would have done to you if your love refuses to pay his ransom." [Carnak]

What he would do to her? What /would/ he do to her? Of course, Leon would get her out of here, one way or another, she was sure of it...but still, "Wwhat would he do?" Her heartbeat quickens and she closes her eyes and reminds herself, it probably couldn't be worse than what Jakaar did to her for over a century. [Gliowien]

"The possibilities are endless, Lady Fairindale. He runs a tavern, and one of ill repute at that. He could easily arrange to sell you to somebody else... the highest bidder, of course. And there are other, far more twisted fates he could have planned for you," added the half-orc as he drifted off into thought. But his thoughts were broken as the sound of footsteps crossing floorboards overhead issued their own warning: someone was coming. [Carnak]

Gliowien whimpers In spite of herself at the thought of being sold...all she wanted was to be free of this place, to be back in her apothecary, waiting on Leon to return to her. How she wished she'd gotten brave enough to send the letter and leave to try to help heal Leon's father. She tried not to think of it...after all, what if the drow attacked her carriage or other bandits, and she would have had to leave the apothecary untended to. She laughed as it hit her...there was no one tending it NOW. How she wished she could have changed her choice, but likely she would have gotten to Viengras too late. Then she would have either had to return to Irae or stay with the di Giovanni's until Leon returned...and she was CERTAIN Sophia would not have liked that! [Gliowien]

The chains that held the entrance to the cellar shut were now being removed and, within moments, the trapdoor was opened and light poured into the makeshift prison. "Good morning," offered Mordren in a chipper tone as he descended the staircase, a fresh torch held within his right hand and a meal of pheasant in the left, still steaming as it had just been taken from the oven. "I trust you slept well?" he inquired of Gliowien before breaking into riotous laughter. "Here, eat this," he commanded as he let the plate fall to the earth below-- some of the meat upon it bounced off, only to be kicked aside by Mordren. A flock of mice quickly liberated the discarded food for themselves. "You've got to keep your strength up, else that fellow... what is his name? Well, the Marquis won't be paying my ransom." [Mordren]


Never one to keep her tongue in cheek unless she was trying to make a good impression, Glia scowled slightly and murmured, "As well as can be expected, considering I'm being kept in a cold dank cellar by a man who kidnapped me from my shophouse! And his name is Leon!" Glia picked up the plate before any mice could dive onto the plate itself and she began to eat, trying not to let the hungriness show so much as she felt it. She'd felt it the moment she'd woken up but she'd been hungry before for much longer than that and Glia knew she could control herself. Gliowien didn't even raise her eyes to him, preferring to ignore his existance as much as she could. Inwardly she was thankful that at least he wasn't as bad as Jakaar... had she replied to /him/ like that...she'd be in a WORLD of pain by now. [Gliowien]

"Ahh, yes. That was it, was it? Leon?" Mordren mocked before turning to face Carnak, who had been leaning against the far corner wall for some moments now. "Good news for you, Mac Morna. I've sold you. It seems you are worth a grand total of three hundred Iraenian gold coins, at least, that is what the good captain offered me. I accepted, of course." Now the human approached his nemesis, and kicked some loose dirt into the Il'Khan's face. "Did you hear that, filth? You've been sold. Get up." [Mordren]

Rising slowly, the half-orc used the wall to steady himself. "You'll have to remove my shackles, human," he growled. As Mordren kneeled to do so, Carnak grinned at Gliowien and mouthed the word 'now.' With a swift kick, the half-orc sent the human sprawling backwards to the earth, holding his jaw. Blood was already pouring from his mouth. "I suggest going, m'lady. He'll be down for a good while." [Carnak]

But Mordren had already planned for this, and his shout was enough to queue the arrival of Foster at the top of the stairway. "Sir?" the hulking man asked as he walked down the stairway himself, looking down on the elf and then towards Carnak. It was clear that the orc had kicked his employer square in the jaw. "That one doesn't know when to quit, does he?" Foster said, shaking his head. He then turned back to Gliowien, "I'd advise staying where you are. I'd hate to have to kill you... such a pretty girl." [Mordren]

Gliowien knew how to take a clue and grit her teeth as she climbed to her feet and had already started limping towards the stairs before she heard the 'Sir' at the top of the stairs. Her heart pounded and she froze where she was, not daring to incur further wrath upon herself. Unsure of what to say or do, she just stays where she'd stopped, placing more of her weight on her good ankle to relieve some of the throbbing. [Gliowien]

"A clever attempt," Mordren grunted as he rose up, drawing his short sword. "But my patience grows thin with you, orc." With a quick, downward slash, the assassin cut a deep wound in the half-orc's chest. Carnak yelped in pain as he fell to his knees, and when he landed, the human plunged his blade through the right breast of the wounded Il'Khan. First, he twisted the sword, and then wrenched it free and kicked Mac Morna onto his back. "Foster, our friend will be dead soon. Take him to the River Sera and make sure that you're not seen. I'd hate to have to explain this to the city guard." [Mordren]


Her stomach turned at the shock and fear that accompanied seeing the fatal wounds being administered to the half-orc. Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized she'd now be on her own down here and she tried to catch the Il'Khan's eyes as she said , in common, "Good Journey, Mac Morna." The stabbing replayed itself over and over again in her mind, fully absorbing her thoughts for the moment. [Gliowien]

Foster simply nodded as he moved forward, and taking the key from his employer he removed the dying half-orc's shackles. He then picked up Carnak with a heavy grunt. "What about the captain, sir?" he asked of Mordren. The assassin simply waved off the question as he turned to Gliowien, polishing his blade. "You see what happens when you don't obey me, hmm?" [Mordren]

Very slowly and nervously, Glia nods, she doesn't dare say a word as her mind races. The half-orc was dead...the human had just killed him ...in FRONT OF HER?! Her stomach felt as if it were doing summersaults and she felt herself getting dizzy from the nerves and prayed he would just leave....could she be that lucky? [Gliowien]

"Good. Then I'll leave you to your own devices." The sword clean, Mordren sheathes it before making his way toward the stairs. "I do hope that Leon returns my letter soon. I would hate to have to kill you," he threatens as he ascends the stairs with purpose in his stride. He had used the half-orc to demonstrate a point to his new captive, and judging by her reaction, she was receptive to it. "Rest well." [Mordren]

Limping disheartenedly back to the wall, Glia lowers herself carefully against it and sighs as she notices her ankle swelling worse for her stupid attempt at running. "Just great," she mutters to herself as she rests her head against the cold wall of the cellar. "Leon, please get me out of here soon!" she pleads as if her thoughts could be heard all the way in Viengras. Glancing to the plate she'd dropped in her haste to try to run to freedom, she sees that the rats have hungrily devoured all that was left of her food and she regrets having been so patient with her eating. Who knows when he would next bring down a meal? [Gliowien]

The Lunatic With the Sword
Date: 12/19/06
Players: Gliowien, Mordren

Synopsis: Mordren visits his captor, seemingly in a better mood than he was before. After a brief discussion, he promises more favourable conditions for his captive.

Night blurred into day, day blurred into night. Food came daily, and daily she guarded it as best she could from the rats so that she could eat...it wasn't enough to fill her, but it was more than Jakaar had ever fed her. My but she was missing the food at the Inn. She lay on her side, her head propped on her arm as she stared into the blackness that was captivity. Glia had tried putting her weight on her ankle earlier...a few hours ago probably. She didn't cry out at the pain, but one step was enough to tell her she wasn't strong enough to attempt to run. Not that that was an option now, not after watching the Il'khan be killed before her very eyes. [Gliowien]

The chains were tugged away slowly, softly, as Thral'Athos made his way into the cellar with another meal. "Hello down there?" he called as he descended the steps, holding a torch out before him to illuminate the chamber. When he reached the bottom, he placed the meal upon the floor and scanned throughout, stopping when he sighted Gliowien. "Your meal, madam," he said as the now-free hand (which had been holding the plate), settled upon the hilt of his short sword. [Mordren]

Glaring angrily, still not so submitted to her fate as to hide her frustrations, Gliowien stood defiantly and hobbled as quickly as she could to the plate before the rats could attack it and devour her meager meal. "Has Leon returned from Viengras?" she asked with more of a demand in her voice. How she longed to see him again...to talk of nothing and everything and just smile and laugh together. Not wanting her food to get cold, she ambled back over to the wall and leaned against it to help with the weight on her bad ankle as she picked at the food, eating it as daintily as one can manage with one's fingers. [Gliowien]

"I'm afraid he hasn't, or, if he has, he hasn't contacted me of yet. I am starting to think that he doesn't care enough about you to pay my ransom, Miss Fairindale," Mordren taunted. "But don't worry, I'm sure I'll have you sold before the year's end." Tightening his grasp upon his blade, the leather of Mordren's glove groaned at the hardening of his grip. "Even if it's not to your beloved." [Mordren]

Her heart pounded in her chest as she felt her eyes well up with tears, "...y-you can't do that! I am not yours to sell!" Glia's lower lip quivers as she tries to fight back the tears...Had Leon really not contacted him? Surely the man she loved would not leave her to this brute...Leon was a good and kind man and would never let anything like that happen to her. "Yyou must be lying!" she claimed defiantly, her chin jutting out slightly as she tried to be brave and stare at the face of her captor. "Leon will get me out of here, you'll see!" she screams as she, obviously without thinking, hurls the plate straight for Mordren's head. Too bad she'd not finished eating before he's begun this assault on her emotions! [Gliowien]

This time, Mordren was prepared for a flailing object. Drawing his short sword, the warrior put on a brilliant display of reflexes as he brought it up to parry the flying plate, smashing it. Unfortunately, this did not halt the momentum of the shards, and one struck him in the wrist. The gouge was not deep, but it still stung for a brief moment, and the human cursed as he tore a piece of fabric from his shirt and wrapped the wound. "You've got to be less aggressive, m'lady," the human said in an angry tone as he stepped forward, lifting his blade. He brought it down quickly, in a half-stroke, pausing a foot from the neck of his captive. "The next time you attempt something like that, I will kill
you. You saw what happened to Mac Morna." [Mordren]

Eyes wide and heart racing faster than any galloping horse, she nods and lowers her eyes, not daring to speak. She did see what he did to Mac Morna...and it still haunted her dreams...almost as much as the dreams of Jakaar that had returned. Trembling, she slid down the wall to a seated position and avoided his gaze. Surely she wouldn't have to put up with this too much longer...Leon would save her, right? [Gliowien]

Mordren chuckled as the girl slid into a somewhat resigned position, and returned his blade to its scabbard. "That is better, girl. I was considering setting you free yesterday, since it would seem a certain... interest... of mine is a good friend of yours. But after that last action, I'm not sure I was in the right state of mind." Turning his back on the elf, Mordren took to paces towards a shelf that held some bottles of wine. "I don't suppose you like fine wine, hmm?" [Mordren]

"A friend of mine??? Who?" Her eyes looked to him pleadingly, "Are...are they looking for me?" She disregarded the question of wine. Who could he know that knows her? A list of all her dear friends started flowing through her head: her beloved Leon, her dear aunt Shaelle, Jalisa, Cadence, Kadgeon, there were a few others, but surely none who would be as worried as those, surely Cadence the least of these as she'd only met her a few times. Certainly it wasn't Leon, since that is who he is trying to ransom her to... Her aunt would not befriend anyone like him, and so that only left the possibility of Kadgeon or Jalisa, surely. [Gliowien]

"The lady Cadence, Miss Fairindale," Mordren offered with a smile. “Perhaps the only lady in this city-- nay, the only person in this city-- that I truly have any concerns for. She is quite concerned about your welfare." Pulling an empty barrel from the shadows of the cellar, Mordren took a seat upon it, adjusting himself to achieve the maximum amount of comfort. [Mordren]

So she was wrong, it /was/ Cadence...and apparently he had "interests" in her. "Sshe is a kind lady..." Glia says softly as she draws her knees up under her, careful of her ankle. A rumble in her stomach reminded her that she should have ate instead of talking and throwing earlier and she sighs softly. A thought hit her though that made her laugh. "Wait! You...you came into my shop from a crossbow incident once...you told me of Cadence throwing a shoe at your head!" Her eyes light up and then she chuckles...what would Cadence say if she told her about having thrown a plate of food at his head? [Gliowien]

"Yes, we had our... rough period. But we've found a common interest, her and I, and I am enraptured by her. Consider that the reason why I hadn't killed you a moment ago," Mordren stated, "you owe her thanks." Kicking at the barrel with his heel, the human looked at the elf with inquisitive eyes, "How long do you suppose it will take your lover to answer my ransom note? Is he generally prompt?" [Mordren]

She /did/ owe Cadence her thanks...Glia bit her lower lip and looked up to the human atop his barrel perch. "He is not my lover, though we do love each other..." she says in a somewhat warning tone, despite knowing that she was no threat to him. She would not have their relationship slandered so, especially since Leon had quite the reputation to uphold. "As...as far as prompt...I do not know as far as correspondence." A flush enters her cheeks as she leaves off the part about her reading and writing skills being a tad on the lacking side. "I do not know how long it will take him, once he gets your note." She prayed he /did/ get the note.... [Gliowien]

"Well, he has recieved the note. Or somebody has, anyway. It was taken from the Haven a few nights ago, or so my scouts have told me. It would do you some good to know that your aunt knows that you are missing, I suppose?" Mordren inquires, his brow curling to the question. [Mordren]

Shaelle! Of all the times for Glia to get kidnapped...Shaelle had only gotten to see her for a few months after searching for her for over a century! "I..I guess she would have been one of the first to notice." Her aunt would pay the ransom even if, for some reason...no. She would not let herself think it. Leon would come through for her. [Gliowien]

"I would ask only one thing of you, Gliowien," Mordren says as he slides from the barrel, brushing some dust from his leggings. "If you are discovered, or when you are returned home, that you only associate me with this kidnapping. I know you are going to report who held you, but my friend the troll was not even aware of what I had been planning. He was simply tagging along with me." [Mordren]

Gliowien almost laughed, "So there is honour among thieves?" She snickered at the thought, but remembered that the troll had tried to keep her from enraging the human on more than one occasion. "Why did you do it?" she asks suddenly, curiosity always her downfall. "If you knew you would get turned in...why would you do it?" [Gliowien]

The human's features took on a more sinister nature in the flickering light of the torch. "Have you ever committed a crime before, Miss Fairindale? Or just been a victim of them?" Mordren asked as he took a step forward. Waiting for her answer, the assassin withdrew his blade and cut at the air with it. [Mordren]

"I...I've never," she says as she watches the blade warily. That same blade that had come within a foot of her only minutes before and had pierced the Il'Khan days ago. Certainly if there was an instrument of evil, that was one! [Gliowien]

"You've never committed a crime?" the human inquires before lunging at some invisible opponent and, by his actions, skewering the poor fool. Sheathing his blade (and making a point of making as much noise in the process), Mordren turned to face the elf again. "There is a certain rush one gets, when they commit a crime, Miss Fairindale. That is why I do these things. They fulfill a need, an addiction, if you will. I am addicted to committing crimes, to avoiding the law, to playing dangerous games with people. It was only a matter of time before I did something utterly stupid, something like I have done with you." [Mordren]

That was it...he /wanted/ to get caught...he had been flirting with disaster all the while and when disaster hadn't taken his bait, he made himself into a net and threw himself on top of it! He didn't care what happened to her as long as he got his rush off it. Her stomach turned as she looked upon the man in fresh realization of the true monster that he was. How twisted could he be? She wanted to run, to hide, anything to be away from someone so unstable, for surely he had to be unstable to live that way. [Gliowien]

"I'll be increasing the frequency of your meals, starting tonight, Miss Fairindale. I'll be feeding you in the morning and the night. As well, perhaps I will give you a breath of fresh air and a chance to bathe in the next few nights." Mordren looked at the girl with pity in his eyes, in spite of the fact that he had created her disadvantageous position.
"It is only fair, anyway. You are no rodent, and you are no orc." [Mordren]

Confusion and gratefulness battle within her mind. The monster was going to be kinder? Why? Not that she would turn down an improvement in his "hospitality", but she wondered what would cause the sudden change. He'd gone from threatening to kill her, to promising her more food and a chance to freshen up. All this within one conversation. "Tthanks..." is all she manages to say as she furrows her brow, confusion and gratefulness having settled for a tie. [Gliowien]

Mordren offered a brief nod before he turned for the stairs. "Good night, Miss Fairindale," he says in a droll tone. "There is wine on the shelf. If you can muster the strength, feel free to take a bottle for yourself. And rest well, when you do." [Mordren]

Stunned, Glia sits there in the cellar and gazes after her captor. If it weren't for the fact she was too light-weight to handle much alcoholic drink, she might have considered it. Then again...it wasn't as if she had to walk home after drinking at the bar. She scoffed at the notion and reminded herself that if anyone's generosity sounded too good to be true, it usually was. Reclining on her side once more, Glia rested her head on her arm and drifted into sleep. Her dreams included a new figure though, mixed in the blurriness of her own nightmare realm. A lunatic with a sword, dancing about with a bottle of wine splashing everywhere. [Gliowien]

Title: Coming Clean
Date: 12/26/2006
Characters: Gliowien and Mordren
NPC's: Foster(Mordren)
Synopsis: Gliowien gets a chilly bath in the shallow end of a lake and learns that Foster has plans that will result in her being able to return...and hopefully very soon!

The floorboards leading out of the cellar creaked as Mordren climbed the stairway. "Come, Lady Gliowien," he called to her, not bothering to look, as he led with a lantern held aloft in his left hand. His right hand, again, rested comfortably upon his blade. "Air, and a chance to bathe. That is what I promised, and now I will deliver it. The water may be slightly cold, however." [Mordren]

Cold water? Glia almost laughed, but caught herself. The cellar itself was cold enough, cold water wouldn't make any difference as long as she could dry off enough. She stood and walked over to the stairway, her limp quite a bit less than what it had been, though not gone yet. "Thank you" she says somewhat softly and starts to climb the stairs. By now her wavy hair is a bit on the frizzy side and she knows it may take a while to work all the tangles out of the long tresses. A wince comes to her at the very thought...oh well...she'd have to detangle her wavy hair sooner or later. [Gliowien]

Mordren walked along the hallway, ducking into a room for a brief second to retrieve the towel, soap, and comb he had placed there earlier. Shoving, rather than handing them-- to Gliowien, the human glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Foster had cleared the Raven and sent Naelmi home. As risky as this trip already was, Mordren could not afford to add further complication. [Mordren]

Gliowien is slightly confused as to why he shoved them to her, but catching his glance about, she realized he was just trying not to get caught. Her eyes scanned the area as well...hoping to find an escape route if a good enough chance did present itself. That is...after her bath of course. Taking in as much of her surroundings as she could in a glance, Gliowien lowered her eyes so that her plans might not be known.

Mordren led the way through the Tavern's main chamber, where he found Foster spinning a coin. "Come, Foster," he grunted as he waved to the man, "We're taking the Lady for a short walk." Foster looked up and nodded, though in his eyes a shade of reluctance could be found-- this was the night that Mordren was to be apprehended. "Aye, sir," Foster mumbled as he rose and wrapped a heavy wool cloak about himself. He then fell in line behind Gliowien. "Let's go." [Mordren]

So they were going to get her fresh air before she bathed? At least she'd be a little less likely to catch a cold...that is if she didn't escape before returning for her bath. She bit her lip nervously...what if she couldn't get away from them? The sight of the Il'Khan collapsing to the ground after Mordren had stabbed him replayed itself in her mind and she shivered slightly. Maybe she should wait...Leon would surely save her... [Gliowien]

Mordren rushed along the alleyways of the Poor Quarters, leading the way to the Harbour. It was there that he was going to let the Lady bathe, in the shallow area of the lake. "Keep up, Foster," he hissed to the man, who was lagging behind a great deal. It seemed odd that the man who had previously been so obedient to Mordren was now acting out. "If you don't speed things up, I'll kill you myself," growled Foster under his breath and out of Mordren's earshot-- though not Gliowien's-- "You're marked, anyway. You'll be arrested and the elf will go home, and the Raven will be mine."

Not out of Gliowien's earshot for certain and her eyes darted to him though she didn't dare turn her head. Her heart skipped a beat...Foster had plans to help her somehow? If only she could speak to him...to figure out the plan so she could be ready to go along with it when the time came! For now she just followed Mordren, glancing around a bit, though not curiously enough to arouse suspicion from Mordren. The towel, soap, and comb were held tightly to her and Glia shivered slightly in the cool air. [Gliowien]

At long last the trio arrived at the harbour, and Mordren led them to a small, and somewhat isolated area. "Here we are, Lady," he said with a grin as he placed the lantern on the planks at his feet, "now you may have your bath." For emphasis, he pointed out at the lake, and he gave Foster a nod as he walked off to create discussion with another sailor (an attempt at deterring any movement towards the area of the harbour which he had chosen.) [Mordren]

Gliowien nodded and glanced around, hoping she could find a position where she could bathe modestly. She held her dress's hem up as she waded into the water, lifting it higher as she went, trying her best to not get the dress wet and make it even chillier for her after she came out later...She stopped after only a foot of very cold water laps at her thin calves. Turning to Foster, she casts him a glance that she hopes he correctly interprets as "what do I do?"...She needed to know if her bathing as quickly as she could right now might mess with his plans...plans that her hearing assured her only minutes before that existed.

"What do you want, elf?" Foster asked as he caught the look, "You want me to come in and join you? I have children, thank you. And the last thing I would want is some rich man's concubine." Turning his back on the woman, the muscle snorted. It took a moment before he realized what it was that she actually wanted. He then turned back. "I apologize. You want to know if I want you to help me, don't you?" [Mordren]

His first response to her look gained him quite a scowl, but that eased as soon as he realized the real reason for the look she had given him. Nodding, she says softly, "I know you have plans to help me, and I don't wish to screw them up." Afer a brief pause she adds with a genuinely offended tone, "And I am no concubine, I love the Marquis and he loves me, but I assure you we have done nothing inappropriate so I'd not have you besmirch my name that way, if you don't mind!" Her voice remains soft but is very easily heard by Foster. [Gliowien]

"Yes, I do have plans to help you," Foster whispers, "and yes, I don't want you screwing them up. So just do what he tells you. Once we get back to the Raven, I'm expecting a group of guardsmen to be waiting for him. Then you can go see your precious Leon and I will grow fat off the reward." Chuckling, the muscle sits himself down, "I'm not doing this for your interests. I'm doing it to make a fortune. Mordren's a fool, and he doesn't even see what I've got in store for him coming!" [Mordren]

So he was another greedy soul like the one who'd kidnapped her? At least she'd be free of them soon enough, and good riddance! She nodded and went back, further into the water, going underneath the small dock so that she might have more privacy as she set to work bathing as quickly as she could. After she cleaned her body, she started on the unpleasurable task...taming the mass of knots that her nearly waist-length tresses had become. [Gliowien]


Mordren returned at that moment, and looking out across the water he could see no trace of his captive. "Foster, you idiot!" he half-shouted, drawing his blade. "Where's the girl?" His face was marred with panic. Foster only laughed in response, pointing beneath the dock to her precise location. The gaps between the lumber were just wide enough to make out flesh, but not wide enough to see Gliowien nude form with any detail. [Mordren]

Gliowien flinches slightly at his shout and hurries as she works on the last few knots. The cold was getting to her and making her wet skin feel slightly numb as she tried to hurry. Moments later, a slender hand reached up to the dock and pulled down the towel after placing the comb back upon the planks. A little later, the towel is replaced and the dress is pulled down, Glia again careful as she puts it on not to let the hem get wet. As she emerges, she keeps the hem only an inch or so from the water, lowering it with each step she took out of the coldness. Glia shivered, but now not from fear of Mordren or his blade. She walked onto the dock to grab the comb, soap, and towel.

Mordren chuckled, "well done. You managed to bathe without letting either of us see a thing." Sheathing his blade, the human stepped forward, and reached out for the things. "I'll be taking those back, now, if you don't mind?"

Her cheeks flush slightly and she fights off a grin...if they had seen her, they would have seen what a mass of scarred flesh she was...every inch of her skin that is now covered again safely by her dress. Handing the items back to Mordren, she tucked her arms close to her sides and rubbed her hands fiercely in an attempt to warm them. [Gliowien]

The items now collected, Mordren pointed to the lantern. "You carry it, m'lady," he ordered. Before recieving any response, the human headed off towards the Raven, "and keep up." Foster, shaking his head at his employer, removed his cloak and offered it to the elf. "Take it. I can't have my fortune ruined because you die of this cold." [Mordren]

Impure motives, but a kind gesture to her nonetheless, Glia nods and wraps the cloak about her before grabbing the lantern quickly and following, trying her best not to let the slight limp slow her down any. Mordren didn't seem to want anything to slow them down...maybe the guards would be there waiting and he would only be hurrying to his own capture. [Gliowien]

Bringing up the rear, Foster's pace was nowhere near the speed of his employer or the elven girl. He was not in a rush, though he should've been-- he was too busy dreaming about the size of the reward. "I wonder, will it be a million? I highly doubt the elf is worth that..." he thinks aloud before his voice trails off and the monologue continues in his head. Finally, as if he has come to some form of conclusion of the ideal amount of gold he would be given, he nods and smiles. "You will be worth something, anyway," he says as he catches up to Gliowien, "and I bet it'll be a lot more than I've earned working for Mordren." [Mordren]

Rolling her eyes and not looking to Foster, she focuses on the thought that soon she would be free. How nice it would be to be with her Aunt and Leon again...to sleep in her own bed, to be warm! Her stomach rumbled slightly in a reminder that they would be getting back and Mordren would likely be apprehended during the time he would normally bring her some food. Definitely she would enjoy eating something other than tavern food as well. A thought struck her and she decided the rest of the way back, she would stay a few extra steps behind Mordren, in case he got any funny ideas when he saw guards waiting for him. Though if he were as quick as he appeared, that wouldn't be far enough...but she could hope. [Gliowien]

Title : The Return Home
Date : 1/3/07-1/27/07
Characters : Gliowien, Shar, Mordren, Foster (NPC: Mordren), Leon
NPC's: Foster (Mordren), Li-Anya and other members of the guard(Shar)
Synopsis: Gliowien is rescued only to find herself having to defend her dignity from viscious verbal attacks from Mordren. Leon seems to disapprove of her reaction to Mordren's words and has Glia escorted to the guest wing of the Villa to calm herself.

Steam escaped the lips of the assassin of Irae as he took short steps down the Poor Quarters of the City of Lions. He was headed for the Moon Raven. "Keep up!" he hissed to Gliowien and, lagging some distance behind, Foster, "we're almost there, and we're almost out from this damnable cold!" His face red, the human's pace increased slightly. For a brief moment, he thought he had heard a voice echoing down the short street, but he quickly dismissed this possibility and picked up his pace. "Hurry!"

Holding the lantern out and carefully away from Foster's cloak that she was now wrapped in, Gliowien speeding up only slightly, but enough to stop Mordren's complaining. Well, she hopes. She prays that Foster's arrangements for the guard to be there went through without a hitch, for if not, she wasted her only easy attempt at escape. Mordren was right though, the cold was nearly unbearable, causing Glia to nestle herself more tightly in the cloak Foster had given her only moments before. ~Soon I'll be safe and can return to Auntie Shaelle and Leon...~ she keeps reminding herself mentally, almost a chant or mantra to keep her going despite the growing numbness caused by the frosty air.

A lithe human woman lingers near to the Moon Raven, her tanned body dressed in a very revealing gown, slit in various places about her lower legs, some of the slits daringly up her thigh. Long dark hair loops down her exquisite face - she looks like any other whore out soliciting for the night though her eyes rove the Quarters more carefully than a street strumpet would do. A quick check into the Moon Raven shows her that the one they called Boss and Mordren is not around and her beringed hand does a unseen gesture towards an alley, beckoning two shadow-cloaked beings to her side to enter the tavern. Minutes pass, a tall broad-shouldered, dark-skinned fellow and his companion, thinner and wearing a pull-down cap over his dirty curls stride into the Moon Raven, the whore linking herself with the broad-shouldered man's arm.

"You're sure it is all arranged?" The tanned whore leans up to whisper into the broad-shouldered man's ringed ear, pretending to be caressing the fellow's arm in 'affection'. The dark-skinned man nods with a grunt. The harlot throws an observant glance about the Raven, checking out each and every one. There are more drunkards tonight than lucid people and Li-Anya makes a face as one hobo flails past her, intending to stroke her thigh. She deftly sticks out a leg and hooks him till he falls into a slobbering heap on the ground, making the dirty-haired young man laugh. "Go find a table, Evan." The big, dark-skinned man instructs, directing the curly-haired thin fellow to follow his order.

Whore, big fellow and dirty-haired guy settle themselves down in a booth. After a few moments, the big fellow appears to be missing; while the whore and the curly-haired one seems to be engaging in some sort of drinking game. Perhaps for show.


Mordren's footsteps were soft, but still a small amount of dust was kicked up and drifted in his wake. He walked, to all appearances, sideways-- his left foot leading-- as if he were in a duel. His right hand rested upon the hilt of a short sword, his left was outstretched before him should it be needed to stave off any unexpected attackers. The Poor Quarters were not safe at night, not even for the boss of the Barathrum. "Hurry up," he repeated, adding, "and stay close."


Glia's stomach feels as if it's in knots as she follows a step or two more closely. As paranoid and on-guard as Mordren was acting, it was as if he already knew something was up. What if he did know? She ponders moving a few paces back from him as they walk, that is, until an image of the Il'khan's dying body tumbling to the ground of the cold basement floor flashes before her eyes and she gets a nervous chill. Realizing she was probably in more danger if she upset him than if she followed and the guards were ready for him, Glia stays in step with Modren as best she can and just prays that Foster's plans all went well.

As they get closer, her stomach rumbles and she remembers that Mordren had taken her to go bathe before the time that she was used to eating now. Normally she would shift her mind away from thoughts of food when she was hungry and not at an opportune moment to eat, but as thoughts of food were better than thoughts of following her captor through the backalleys of the Poor Quarters, Gliowien let her mind drift to some of her favorites since she's arrived in Irae...grilled chicken with herbs, cheesecake, apple-cinnamon muffins. At the last thought, she feels a slight twinge. How she missed spending time with Leon...hopefully as soon as she was free, she would get to visit with him more often than she had before.


Shar returns just after the two of his subordinates are on their fourth mug of mead and tenth round of drinking game. Li-Anya, amazingly able to hold her drink, ordered a fifth round of alcohol now just to keep up with the masquerade while Evante just could not down anymore. The First-in-Arms glares with growing irritation as his helper is now stone-cold out on the table, unable to move a leg nor a finger.

"How is it?" The woman whispers, hiding her lips behind a fan she'd opened while appearing to be coy with the big fellow as he settles himself down on the chair, the frail wooden structure creaking under his bulk.

"Just as he said. " He grunts low enough for her to hear. With caution, he twists something out from his palm and passes it to the woman beneath the shadow of her fan. "A key. Unlocks one of the doors. Go now and hide there."

The lithe Lieutenant of the Calvary nods in agreement. Slowly, she lifts herself up, pretending to engage her superior in a show of coyness before weaving away into the Raven's burgeoning crowd, heading to the quarters below. Charming the way down will be easy enough, Li-Anya believes, as she vanishes out of sight.

Shar keeps a tracking eye on his lieutenant as she buys her way through the crowd, ensuring that her usual 'patrons' are entertained. For the last two weeks, the First-in-Arms had Li-Anya coming here conducting a fair bit of spywork pretending to be a woman of the streets. Sufficient to say Li-Anya, or 'Anna' if you will, is now rather well known. Once his lieutenant's slim back is out of sight, Shar returns to watching the door, docking his features under the hat he wore while Evante drooled ceaselessly by his side.


Finally arriving at the Raven, Mordren can hear the ruckus within before he even opens the door. The assassin looks back on his two followers-- the first, his captive, and the second his employee. While Gliowien is having little trouble keeping up, Foster seems to be lagging some distance behind and his face carries a dismayed expression. "Foster? What's troubling you?" asks Mordren as he takes several backward steps towards the door of the Raven.

"Oh, nothing, boss," replies Foster. Nothing could be further from the truth. The muscle of the Barathrum was dismayed as he had not seen any guardsmen waiting for him-- he had expected a full contingent of at least ten well-armed guards, and the troll that had recently arrived as well. Naturally, he had overanticipated the arrival and thus, things were not as he had wished. "Just tired's all."


Eyes darting as inconspicuously as she can, Glia scans the area. Had Foster's plans fallen through? Was she going to be stuck in captivity longer? The urge to run returned to her and her pace slowed slightly. Could she get away? Her ankle was almost healed now....

Gliowien's hands clench at her sides and she glances at the doors she's about to be led back into. What if she couldn't escape Mordren? Would he kill her as he had the Il'khan? What if the guards were waiting in the shadows to ambush Mordren and her escape attempt would ruin the plan? Worried frown still on her face, she tries to push the thoughts from her mind as she tucks a quickly drying tendril of her long, wavy brown hair behind a pointy ear. Either way...surely she would be free soon, right?



Shar counts the minutes. He hunches down just enough to ensure that he's not sighted and one rough finger pokes dourly at Evante's side. The boy wakes up blubbering. splattering a fine mist of saliva into his superior's face.

"Wake up and get back to the Complex. Call Varloz and have him bring his troop here. Make sure you drag the time for ten or so before you arrive."

The boy nods sleepily and scampers out of the tavern, pushing open the doors and passing by the three of them, the elf girl and her two captors and bowing his head,

"Sorry Sir, gotta ged home to me momma." he murmurs as he runs past.

At his table, Shar continues to sit there, pulling a few very fast and large swigs on his ale. Suddenly, he stands up, swiping his hand across his mouth before going towards the doors. He opens it up, looking straight at the two fellows, Mordren and Foster before gurgling and staggering forward, pulling up a nasty cache of vomit from his stomach, the mixture of ale and pea soup splattering across shoes and any clothing visible. He figures that the tar smeared on his face and clothes, giving him the very look of a drunk coal miner should keep him from being sight. Now, all he has to do is to stall them at the doors when Varloz gets here.

"Ahhh, my apologies, guvnor!" The large man mumbles, placing his hand on his head and swaying slightly, the motion reaching to close the doors of the tavern behind him.

He slips a glance at Foster before retching again on the pavement.


Foster looked upwards at the troll, and immediately he knew something was wrong. The creature was staggering, and advancing-- either he was about to throw up or about to fall over on them. Considering the bulk of the creature, the muscle imagined that neither would be very good. In one swift movement, Foster both stepped out of range of the troll and pulled Mordren into it, and the vomit was released. "Sorry boss," Foster mumbled as he watched what transpired next.

Mordren threw his hands before his face, the vomit making a loud splattering sound across his gloves, leggings and boots-- it had, apparently, missed his armor. "Son of a--" he began, before catching the smell, which caused a temporary loss of balance. Now the assassin himself stumbled, and it took him a moment to regain his composure. His face was red as a tomato, and immediately his hand went to his sword. "I'm afraid this drunkard has had his last," the human shouts as he draws the blade and advances.


The sight of a towering drunken half-troll lumbering towards the group sent Glia more than a few steps backwards as her eyes widened. Eyes widening further as Foster quickly moves Mordren into the 'line of fire', Gliowien doesn't snap out of her look of shock until Mordren draws his blade and begins moving towards the horridly intoxicated Olog'hai...at which point she scurries behind Foster and peers around, both fearing and anticipating the fray. After all, the half-troll may have appeared unarmed, but he certainly looked fierce enough even in his inebriated state to rip Mordren to shreds!



"That would be what I should say. Monsieur."

Something flashes to part the shadowy gloom outside the tavern -- the sharp clang of a blade against and below the one drawn by Mordren. Yet the softness of the voice does not seem to belong to the one who would draw a forceful blade. Instead it is a guard, a red-bearded human with very black eyes, his gaunt face staring straight at Morden. He does not release his block against the Assassin's blade until many lanterns part away the darkly lurid mists brought in by the sea-wind, half shining weak light on a group of guards clad in the personal livery of the Marquis of Irae, the deep crimsons and ebony blacks unmistakable even in such poor radiance. They surround the tavern's entrance and any visible exits around the Assassin, Foster and Gliowien.

At the sight of the guards, the half-troll First-in-Arms draws himself back to his full height, inclining his jaw and staring right at Mordren. And behind him, the doors of the tavern opened, the lady cavalier Li-anya strolling out with large strides like any man, the gait totally unfitting her dress, in one hand a ring of keys. The doors were shut behind her and whatever locks the Tavern has, immediately locked.

In swift motion and togetherness, she bows with the First-in-Arms at the moment the guards part to allow a tall, young man with dark curly hair to walk through. Leon di Giovanni, looking much thinner and his visage having lost a fair bit of the former softness it once had, turns to stare at the Assassin, looking upon him for the first time.

"So, this is the capable Monsieur Mordren Thral'Athos who kidnapped the Lady Fairindale?" The Marquis' voice is hollow, steel-like as he regards Mordren whom by now is surrounded by two rows of guards. "I do know what you might be thinking, Monsieur. If you so happen to even /think/ of putting a knife to her throat to get away, I will ensure that you will be pursued to the depths of Hell even upon her death."

He pauses, green eyes turning into a dead dark olive. "Surrender and you might just get better treatment in the dungeons. Else."

The Marquis of Irae walks closer towards where the Assasin stands -- and for a moment, a very, very quick moment, the emerald of his eyes becomes softly warm to look upon Gliowien before they harden once more into cold lumps of green. "Else, Monsieur. I can entreat an eye for a tooth. You slice her throat -- I will slice Lady Cadence's."



"And this would be the master, then?" Mordren chuckles as he drops his blade, raising his hands in the air. "I have to admit, Leon-- or should I call you sir?-- you've got quite the fine concubine. She pleased many a men during her time in the tavern." The words were lies, of course, but what more did the assassin have to say? He was caught, finally, and a part of him wanted to enjoy this moment to its full extent.

"At least have the honor to tell me who it was," the warrior looks about at the people collected, before settling upon Foster. His expression turns cold almost immediately, "who it was that betrayed me. I'd like to know, so that I can kill him proper when I escape that pathetic dungeon of yours."

Now, walking along the line of guardsmen, the assassin feels he is picking up momentum. "Well, it certainly took you fools long enough. How many years have I been operating now? Two? Three? And right under your damned noses!" For emphasis, Mordren prods the nose of one of the younger guards. "Damn. Damn, damn, damn! And to think that I could've milked this city a little more if I hadn't have taken the wench! It's a shame, you know. A blasted shame."

"Oh well, you've got me then, Leon. Well played, I suppose." Removing his glove, the assassin of Irae offers his hand for the shaking. "I surrender."


As Leon emerged the doors of what had been her prison for all too long by now, Glia's heart leapt. He had come for her! For a moment she just stood there in shock...was she dreaming again and still in the dank cellar?

If it was, then it quickly turned into a nightmare as soon as that filty word-hoard that was the assassin's mouth opened. She couldn't believe her ears...even though it was the man who had kidnapped her. Her jaw dropped in disbelief at the horrid things he'd just said about her.

Her fists clench at her side and a glare that could cut nearly through diamonds was shot at the deceiver. "YOU LYING FILTH! I have NEVER slept willingly with ANY man. NEVER. Not since the days of my captivity have I been treated as such trash! Over a CENTURY of such torture, never of my will and now you have the NERVE, the VERY NERVE to not just SUGGEST, but to flat out lie in saying that I WILLINGLY would give myself? YOU PIG!" By this time she is face to face with the surrendering man, seething in rage and her voice raised to a volume that she would never use otherwise. All of that said in pretty-much one breath, Glia pauses just long enough to practically spit the words, "I pray Leon skips the dungeon and sends you straight to the gallows! NEVER such slander have I endured!"

All eyes obviously on herself by now, Gliowien realizes how much she has said and what a scene she has caused, but there is still one thing she can't hold back. Her emerald orbs gaze directly into Mordren's eyes as she lets loose the most powerful punch her thin frame can muster.

Dark eyebrows rise at the comment about Gliowien serving the men in the tavern and though no comment is made towards what Mordren said or asked for the name of his betrayer, the Marquis' face is a shade darker in expression than it is originally.

He opens his mouth to speak but is immediately interrupted by an quaking outpour of rebuttals exiting in spitfuls from the young elf woman's mouth. A very generous amount of equal surprise is gifted at Gliowien with the faintest semblance of disapproval jutting out from his features.

Before anything is highlighted or done to the Assassin, the Marquis directs in two female guards, indicating that they should take the Lady Fairindale to the guest chambers in the Villa di Camerati in the Marquis' own private wing in a carriage to be dressed and to calm down. Tall and garbed in light red-liveried armor, the women bow with great courtesy towards the young elf woman, their countenance unsmiling and it seems difficult to see if their politeness towards her is just job creed.

"As for the kidnapper, take him away to the Dungeons." The Marquis indicates his decision to the First-in-Arms who nods, and beckons for the guards to have Mordren surrounded and taken into custody. And without saying a word, Leon di Giovanni directs a finger at Foster before Lieutenant Li-Anya steps forth with her guards, marching the informer off in the same direction towards the soldiers complex and the stables of the Calvary.

With his commands met, the Marquis turns back to where a guard holds onto a large black stallion, of which, he pulls himself up on it ,settling in easily before hurtling the reins sharply, the beast heading off into a mad gallop up the curving road to the magnolia-sheltered Sera Avenue, a grim and not too happy expression on his face.

He had told her what he had hoped of her before he left. But who is this Gliowien Fairindale he sees now?


Mordren laughed from behind the safety of the guards, mocking Gliowien. To add insult to injury, he begins to shout, "she was well worth the exploitation, Leon! I commend you on your fine taste!" As the guards drag him towards the Barracks, the assassin struggles a moment. "But you didn't shake my hand. That is certainly not very gentleman-like, is it? No, no, no. I wonder what your fellows will think? Not only do you share your mistress, but you refuse to respect another man?" As the guardsmen drag him further away, Thral'Athos stops shouting insults and begins to shake his head instead. 'They may have caught me,' he thinks, 'but we'll see how Leon deals with this new information.'