Shopping for the Guard

[firdawsi]

The town square was full, most people unalert while strolling down the sidewalk under canopies lifted to throw off the sun's ever-watching glare. Fans were posted in nearly every entryway so that as one moved they found themselves leaving one breeze to enter another. Shop-keepers with their voices nearly at an end in the Friday madness found themselves screaming, dreaming of the next two days during which they might get some peace.

"YOU THERE LITTLE LADY!" one such shop-keeper, red faced with a belly round as the moon yelled at a petite, but stronly built woman. She turned, focusing her spring-grass green eyes on him. In the shade her brown skin was nearly black, the blonde highlights in her dark, wavy hair dulled. She was wearing black shorts and an army green tank top, which just managed to impress people with the intense definition of her muscles. It was obvious why the shop-keeper had focused on her vuluptuous, lithe body as he leered at her from his door. "How bout you come in my shop here and take a look at some make-up, eh?"

Firdawsi Sauda, known to quite a few soldiers as 'Capt Dawsi,' allowed a small smile to cross her lips. "I don't wear make-up. Good day." She turned, intending to walk away when cushioned fingers wrapped around her strong arms in what was probably supposed to be an iron grip. Dawsi turned, muscles rippling in places that human muscles should not have moved. "Let go of me."

"But the fun's jest beginnin'."

A guard, the wise Bianc, and one of Dawsi's favorites was suddenly there. "Capt Dawsi?" he made her name a question, to which Dawsi's answer was a sharp shake of the head. "Stand down, Bianc." She didn't have to see him to know that Bianc's hand was held steady on his sword. The shop-keepers eyes were wide, but he still didn't not release the Captain of the Guard. Dawsi's hand moved lightening quick to the shop-keepers hand and she squeezed hard in just the right spot, the shop-keep's hand snapping open. "Go back to your store, and I will forget this happened." Startled by both the inhumanness of the Captain and the realization of who she was, the shop-keep obeyed, going not only back to his shop, but entering its safety.

Dawsi turned back to the guard, her smooth as silk voice hard. "Next time, Bianc, be sure not to forget who is Captain and who is guard." Bianc nodded stiffly, his eyes a touch wide, and when Dawsi's command came, he immediately obeyed it. "Go back to the castle, Bianc, if the only reason you are here is to watch after your Captain. And next time you wish to follow me, perhaps you might want to try leaving your weapons behind." Her voice became mildly amused. "They make more noise than a pack of wolves singing a moonsong. Begone!"

When Dawsi could no longer scent Bianc or the other two guards he brought with him, she continued on her walk to the armoury. For all their tales of a lycanthrope Captain, they certainly didn't believe it enough to be more cautious. She shook her head, still smiling, and entered the armoury. In truth, all she was looking for was a sword, fit to her size, nice and heavy, so that this training season she could show the trainees every move herself. With the lack of fighting that had been going on lately, the guards from last year still did not know how well their Captain could fight, and they needed to know if dissention was to be avoided.

"Have you a very heavy sword, about three feet, six inches tall about here?" The old crone behind the counter left without a word to the backroom, searching for what she presumed to be a weapon for the young woman's husband, off to go to war. What a shame that so many people didn't appreciate power in the package of a petite, heavily-muscled woman.

[Deleted]

Ana search for her next target, coming up the road from the housing district at a normal pace, disguised in what she felt was a rather clever outift: a human clerk, complete with a handful of scrolls. Attentive shopkeepers plied their wares, selling nothing fascinating.

And then she found her mark: an extremely fit young woman was standing scantily clad at a merchant's stall, attentive to whatever was on display. Where would she hold her money, pockets by the hips? A fair assessment.

She began her approach, doing her best to inadvertently mask her presence in the five senses, almost out of habit, until she was a couple yards away, and then increased her pace.

A young pale-faced frail man carrying an armload of scrolls could be seen heading at an unsafe pace down the side of the street. In his path several feet away stood a lithe femme in the shade of a merchan't awning. In moments the little man would be the unsuspecting victim of a painful-looking head-on collision.

"Time for the old 'bumbling fool' routine," Ana thought, which in the past she had often enjoyed many times. This was old hat. A few minutes from now if all went well there'd be roast swan on the table tonight.

[Otho Sarus]

Otho wandered through the market seemingly aimlessly, his old and frail seeming limbs clutching his staff tightly as he hobbled through the crowd, whilst the crowd weaved around him. It was as if he were swimming in a sea of blank faced people, all in a hurry to be the first to buy, or to avoid buying anything at all. Apparently some of the shopkeepers and stall owners were fairly forward about their business, unpleasantly so, but nobody expected a decrepit old fool to have any money, so he was left well alone.
It was then that Otho felt a light touch on his mind, as if he were being felt out and silently imposed upon bu another. It was feather light, and he almost missed it, but it was definitely there.
"An illusionist." Otho said to himself quietly, as he closed his mind off from intervention - not willing to be caught off guard or detected by the other. In truth illusion was one of Otho's favorite arts, which he used extensively, alongside transfiguration, in his own disguise.
And then came the part that Otho enjoyed the most. As he shrugged off the illusion, an elderly person across the square shimmered and faded into the shape of an elven woman.
"A thief" Otho thought silently, as he watched the elf begin to make her move on an unsuspecting woman - a woman who seemed as if she would provide the thief with ample pickings. Otho chuckled mentally, deciding to intervene, if only for his own pleasure and not the financial welfare of the thief's would be victim.
"Clever one aren't you?" Otho sent out his thought across to the illusionist, literally shouting in the depths of her mind, intending to throw her of her balance. After all, there were very few, if any at all, accomplished illusionists within the kingdom, and the elven woman would not be expecting any interference. Otho chuckled mentally again, and stood back, awaiting the result.

[Deleted]

Ana stopped, resisting the urge to whirl around, and passed to the left of her mark, avoiding the pre-planned crash. She walked a few steps more and came to an empty cart where she illusioned that the clerk was re-organizing the pile of scrolls.

Her ears were still ringing from what seemed an auditory blast of some kind. As her clerk spell seemed rather occupied with itself, she took a glance aside to try and pick out anything out of the ordinary.

Her eyes swept across the market place but nothing really seemed "strange"; there were old and young people strolling about, uninterested guards, some tailors standing over a table of cloth, an old man in a wine purple robe looking in her direction, a stray child, a sleeping dog...

No one had confronted her directly; she was then forced to assume she was at a disadvantage and her assailant, if he could be called that, could be casting at her from any distance.

Sound spell? Had she tripped a magical wire and set off a trap? Some form of mind-speech? Or perhaps her mark had a magical guard? She had the same uneasy feeling as when in the tavern on that strange night. She attempted a response although mind speech was not a study of hers and had no idea if it would work.

"If you're with the law, I'm no criminal. Why don't you show yourself so we might discuss this like civilised people?" she attempted to project, with volume.

[Otho Sarus]

The sorceror contemplated what the elf woman had said, chuckling at the racket she made. Her thought was projected outwards, but in all directions. Anyone capable of telepathy for miles around would hear that one. Otho chuckled, this one definitely wasn't a sorceror, and relied upon magic instead. Still, there were a few things he could teach her, for a price of course.
"No criminal?" Otho laughed mentally as he replied in unspoken words, "I can recognise those in the trade with little difficulty. I put it to you that you are nothing but a liar, a cheat and an thief. All excellent qualities." Otho grinned wickedly, is mouth pushing back almost to his ears as it widened.
The old rogue was enjoying every minute of it, in fact - every second. He was a scoundrel through and through, and was right at home with thieves and pickpockets, despite his esteemed status, or at least what one would come to expect of him. By this time, Otho had moved closer to the elf woman, in fact he stood next to her, not inches from her side.
"Lets talk," He said from slightly behind her, flashing pearly white teeth in a sly grin.

[firdawsi]

Lycanthrope. Better hearing. Better speed. Better smell. Better strength. And yet, to appear normal, one would have to pretend none of that existed. Dawsi had heard a too-silent approach, but disregarded it-until the steps quickened, coming directly for her. Her nostrils flared-it wasn't human, but the scent was not too far off. It did not seem cause for much concern, but the Captain knew better than to let her guard down. She began turning, right when the woman would be getting near enough, but the steps stopped and so did Dawsi.

Another came closer, not making much noise either. It was then that Dawsi turned, green eyes flashing as she scented the two. The first...lord, but didn't he look human? The scent and face didn't match, scent being female, face being male, but Dawsi recognized her as an elf. Clever little critter had probably been about to try for the Captain's purse. She smiled ever so slightly, then let her gaze move to the man.

Old, wizened with years, and yet entirely fit from the looks and scent of him. Something about him thrummed with power, as an answering thrum seemed to show in the woman. He spoke, softly, and of course, Dawsi heard every word. She couldn't let the thief slip away so easily, however, and so, cat quiet, she snuck around while the woman concentrated elsewhere. Her movements made no noise whatsoever, her muscles rippling beautifully in her Sahara-dark skin. She was right next to the suspected thief before her quiet, melodious voice intoned.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but notice that you had previously been watching me." Her gaze moved slightly to take in the old man. "I meant to ask you-do you need help with something." She smiled widely, holding out a hand in a bit of a wave as her bright green eyes twinkled with some unspoken joke. "Capt Dawsi Sauda. It is a pleasure to meet the both of you." From this proximity, if they knew their stuff, they could probably see she was a Lycan, but, hell, most lycans couldn't tell another lycan without scenting them first.

[Deleted]

Ana had little time to react after her magically-inclined observer had suddenly appeared next to her. She was feeling rather humiliated but continued to keep her illusory guise active after avoiding a near disaster. The middle-aged man grinned at her as though from across a poker table with a full house in his hand.

To make matters worse a sultry feminine voice spoke from behind her and at the sound of this she turned, confronted by the shadow which had now approached her. The piercing look she gave Ana made the disguised elf feel uncomfortable, but she dismissed it. Ana's mind whirled.

"Wha - whadd'you two want?" the surprised clerk yelped, nearly tripping over himself. He fumbled to keep his scrolls in place and panted, appearing out of breath.

"Can't a man catch his breath?" he demanded, and cast a suspicious eye at the hand of the outstretched woman, then to the older man mere feet away. The clerk's dazed expression turned into one of suspicion. His brow furrowed as the woman confidently introduced herself with a practiced smile.

"A captain? Of course you are dear, now, did you say you want me to help you with something? You are in need of aid?" He grumbled and griped about the lack of a good solid work ethic in young people today, feeling within the folds of his robe and withdrew a handful of gleaming silver coins which he held out to the woman.

At that moment Ana invisibly separated herself from the clerk's illusion and took a few steps backward. Although cloaked from perception, she looked to the old man who no doubt could see her, put a finger to her lips as if to say "Shh", and motioned to a side street.

"Meet me there," she projected through thought, gambling heavily on the fact that the man would not give her up. Ana glanced at her illusion, and strengthened it although she had a fairly good hunch the other woman was only seconds from engaging in a close encounter with it. She was not about to stick around and find out, and she quickly began to put distance between herself and the "incident."




((OOC: To clarify, Ana's illusion spell was not disrupted during any point during this encounter. I think it's fairly reasonable as well to assume by looking at her at this point in time, unless one were a powerful magic-user like Otho, that one would not recognize her as an elf. I have no issue with picking up her elfin scent (something I was hoping for) Not berating ... just a little something to watch out for )

[firdawsi]

((all edited ^_^))

The "man" fumbled with something, doing god knows what with his scrolls. For a moment, Dawsi second guessed herself, taking a descreet whiff of the air to make sure. No, that was definately a female elf. Dawsi had trained enough elves in her day to recognize the scent. This one must've been a mage or a sorceress, disguising herself.

It was then that she smelled it. The scent was transforming. Dawsi's brows furrowed together, her eyes sharp on the elf. The scent was turning male, sweaty, and unhealthy, very, very fast. That meant... Her eyes scanning the area, Dawsi cursed the day she said no to all those new magic charms. She couldn't see the elf at all, just smell her scent like a fading memory. She was getting away!

Dawsi's head turned slightly at a barely audible sound. A step, just in front, but no one to make it. Her eyes narrowed to slits, focusing exactly on that point. If the elf was looking, she would see Dawsi staring right at her...yet Dawsi couldn't be sure that was where the elf was.

"No, I do not need anything from you," she replied, annoyance in her voice, to the man. His scent was off, not quite true, as if hastily applied, like perfume sprayed from too far away. If she could keep the elf there, just a few more moments, she could follow its scent like a trail. "You," her gaze shifted back to the old man. "I really am a Captain, and you'd best be on good behavior-I saw that gleam in your eyes."

With a start, she realized he was not really paying attention either. Still paying attention to the clerk, apparently, but not really. "goddamn it," Dawsi muttered under her breath. She deliberated, but finally decided to speak out. "Little elf," she murmured. "Little elf, I will not hurt you. Please do not hide...talk to me. I can smell you on the wind, and if you do not come out soon, I will grow impatient, scare the mundanes by tracking you. You don't want that kind of attention, do you?"

[Otho Sarus]

((OOC: I'm not trying to god RP here, so if you don't like the idea then feel free to just say so and I'll happily think up some other way for Otho to avoid your characters attentions and edit the post))

Otho simply stood in silence as their uninvited guest approached them, her eyes belying her suspicions. There was definitely something unusual about that one, after all, the elven thief was cloaked in a brilliant illusion, and Otho hid his true self behind an elaborate veil of illusion and transfiguration. The old sorceror had thought that they would have gone unnoticed, at least by all ordinary men and women about. After all, there was nothing spectacular about a clerk and an old man.
It was then that he noticed an animal glint in the woman's eyes, a distinct flash of predatory instinct, as if a huntress lay in wait, ever ready to pounce. A lycan - you could always see it in their eyes, if one looked closely enough. Sure enough there were other ways to tell, such as browsing the contents of her mind, but that was often tedious, but when sieving through a persons mind became interesting it often turned ugly, sour and genuinely repulsive.
So what could this 'captain' want? Otho wondered silently as she announced herself, even as he responded with an obnoxious smile and absent stare. Good behaviour? Otho chuckled mentally. If only Kalista had heard that one, she wouldn't let him live that one down. The old man decided not to mention it to her, wrinkling his nose as he thought. Once again he'd be forced to kick overly curious people out of his conversations, maybe even erase the lycan woman's memory of the last few minutes - just to be on the safe side. After all, he had enough trouble maintaining anonymity as it was, without the city guard on his tail. How could he continue pilfering under those circumstances? Otho's light fingers told him that it would be best if the captain forgot their little chat, and his mischievous little sense of humour egged him on all the more.
"To be arrested for a glint in my eyes, am I?" Otho laughed openly, "Oh dear, oh dear" He chuckled, giving in to temptation. "Nice little chat we've had, shame really." Otho grinned mischievously, raising his left hand slightly as he did so, clenching his will momentarily. With a quick movement of his wrist, almost as if he were brushing away dirt from a shelf, he released his will, his very thought altering the world about him. However, it was directed at one little patch of reality that stood only feet from him, glancing wildly about the square in frustration.
Otho's thought was as a light touch, soft, gentle and unnoticeable as what it truly was to all but other magic users of some experience. He gently probed her mind, replacing the faces, the smells, the sounds, the people and the places that he did not want her to recall.
It would be hard to describe the process to any who had not had first hand experience of the sorcery used, but it could be explained with a simple analogy - Doors. Think of the mind as a circular room filled with doors, doors that lead to different places, thought, emotion, memory, motor functions, sight and so on. Otho simply closed some doors, on certain memories, and opened some that had not been there before. Doors that lead on to memories of things that had not even happened. The good captain would only recall an uneventful few minutes in the town square, stood gazing into the crowd for a reason that she could not place. Perhaps his work would come undone with time, but it was unlikely. Such a small alteration rarely ever fell through, and would be hard for any other sorceror or mage to detect. Perhaps as she went through the process of changing form the doors might become unhinged. That was something the old man had not studied, as he cared very little for lycanthropes and their kin.
Pleased with himself and his work - mostly himself - Otho simply turned and disappeared into the crowd, his image drowned out by the seething mass of colour , as the people of the city bustled and hustled about the square, on business or perhaps out for pleasure. Otho was thinking of only one thing as he rejoined the elven thief - a good meal.

[firdawsi]

((no prob, since I already figured a way around it...heh ^_^

of course...it wont involve your charry, unless you follow le'elf. If you follow the elf, she may just remember you too.))

And people wondered why officers needed patience. This man was just rambling on and on about the most absurd idea that she'd arrest him for his eyes. Hell no, but she'd watch him like a hawk...until...

Watch who like a hawk? Dawsi blinked once, twice, and breathed slowly. This made no sense...The merchant before her...had not been before her...and where in God's name was she?! Her eyes flickered around, her mind having no recollection of her ever setting foot in the area. And she knew something was wrong, because she was trained to remember details. Something else was nagging her...she smelled...something. This man's scent smelt fresh, though he looked like he'd been there a while, and there was a scent fading, but with no one to secrete it.

Dawsi's brow furrowed, and she swept past the form of the merchant, following the scent like a dog after dinner. There! In an alley! She swept into the alley, eyes like lightening, and saw...no one. But the scent was strong, definately there. "I know you're here," Dawsi murmured. "I mean no harm. I'm just curious. You faded away quite well...the man, his scent was so fresh...that had to have been your doing. And I know you are elf...I can...sense it. Please, lady, show yourself."