Seclusion: The Xandria Journey

Ben shrugged as he took out a small pitcher filled two thirds with milk. The milk cascaded into the mug and soon filled it near to the brim. In the meantime, Shen looked at the price for the bounty again while considering Wullfe's words.

"'Seven-hundred-fifty each in gold and silver'," she read aloud. "Not that bad of a bad price, now that I actually look at it...still a little lower than what it should be, but what can you expect from farmers?" Shen glanced back at Wullfe once more, holding out her hand to him in a business-like gesture. "I accept your terms, Wullfe. We'll see how this turns out."

Feeling like she had to add on to his comment about her covering him for now, she added almost bashfully, "Besides, depending on how many others wish to join, we may have to pool our money 'til the job's over anyway."
 
::Wullfe grasps Shenorais proffered hand, his gloved fingers sliding around her forearm, while presenting his own. Not used to much friendly interaction Wullfe shakes, rather rigidly and releases her hand. He turns back to the bar and downs his milk in one go. Done, he replaces the mug once more and wipes his mouth. With a sigh, he scans the room again.::

Wullfe: "It doesn't appear as though anyone else is interested in our humble bounty..."

::Wullfe turns back to Shenorai.::

Wullfe: "How many more do we wait for? Do you have a preferred amount of party members you wish to recruit?"

Wullfe: (She says that the village in question is her home village. I don't know how long she's been living here either, but I don't think she has that many contacts around...)

::Wullfe waits patiently for Shenorai to address the situation at hand.::
 
Mehrsinahries? What in the bowels of a storm drake did missionaries have to do with the question? The iron gilded youth cocked his flame capped head, his face twisted by slight confusion at the somehow unexpected thick accent his new acquaintance responded with. But, before the pair could suffer the embarrassment of requiring a repeat (maybe several), the dark fellow had already taken his interest elsewhere. Even more fortunately, the shopkeeper helpfully divulged the information he was after in the first place. After being so obliged, the young warrior couldn’t help but interject as the old man was requested to rehash his slang polluted directions to the already struggling foreigner.

“Thank you. I got it.” The larger youth habitually responded with an unintentional tone of authority, mostly to his language and clothing challenged fellow stranger. “If you are headed to the guild as well, there is no reason we shouldn’t take the short trip there together. What do you say?”
 
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"The flier specifically requests at least a party of four," Shenorai replied to her new comrade. Her elbows were propped upon the counter again and her chin rested on her folded hands. "Therefore, we should wait for two more..."
Don't you mean one more? butted in Leondra, reminding Shen of Eldon.
Shenorai paused to mentally respond to her closest friend. I'm sure Eldon wouldn't mind catching up with us.

After a moment's thought, Shenorai slipped the pack off of her back and rummaged through it. After a bit of searching, she pulled out a folded piece of paper and set her pack on the floor. She nudged her cup aside and unfolded the paper, placing it upon the counter. Though the map was fairly small for the information, it showed the area around Crysta for nearly a hundred miles 'round. Even parts of the nearest ocean and a peninsula of the next continent were shown on this map. However, the far reaches of the map is not of Shen's concern.

"Should probably give you an idea of one of the quicker routes there before we leave," Shen began, pointing at the city of Crysta. She waited for Wullfe to pay at least some attention before explaining her route. Her finger dragged down the page a little. "There's a small patch of woods between here and the mountains. If I remember correctly," her finger drifted east "there should be a path along here. We also have a forest with a river cutting through it, which shouldn't be a problem if the bridge is still there."

Finally, she stopped at a spot that has been purposely blotted with water and smudged out, leaving nothing but a dark spot on the paper. "The village is here," she said definitely. "However...it takes about a month to walk there. By horse, it would take about a week. Motorcycle would be our quickest bet, since it'd take only a few days. The only problem is funds, for we'd have to rent a horse or motorcycle if we want either one of those. I know renting a horse is about five gold a week, meaning we would need at least ten, maybe fifteen gold each." After doing the math in her head, she bit her inner lip a bit. "...meaning it'd be at least sixty gold...I only have about ten gold and eighteen silver left in my purse."

She mumbled to herself, staring at the map, "...we'll definately need to pool if we want horses..."
 
Paeakhe's initial reaction to the metal clad boy's stance of authority was ingrained obedience, followed almost instantly by a mixture of offense and simple contrariness. He didn't have to take orders anymore, no one could tell him what to do, he was free! Fortunately, before he said something he would later regret, he realized how foolish he was being. This odd stranger wasn't trying to command him, merely trying to save both Paeakhe and the old vendor unnecessary effort.

"Thank iu, I'll go weth iu to mehrsinahry klan... Am I warrior, iu asked. I am. Iu are too? I believe iu mast be, but defferent than my home." Though to Paeakhe, this stranger was clearly more alien than anyone else he'd seen in this city, he was oddly more comfortable around him. A fellow warrior and a fellow stranger, and the awkwardness of their differences was trumped by Paeakhe's interest in the unknown. Not to mention the heartbeat of him reached Paeakhe even through the metal he wore, and it was vastly more intriguing than those of the normal people he'd seen in this city so far. Shaking his head, he pushed himself away from that thought. "I am Paeakhe Maekhtad, of..." He paused, suddenly unsure what to give as his home, and how to properly introduce himself in this place "Ah, from on Valrohl..."
 
::Wullfe extends his arm from within the shadowy recesses of his cape, and drops the change purse he managed to steal from the pickpocket earlier on the table by Shenorai's map. Leaning against the bar, he turns away from his newly won associate and peers at the doors to the pub. A man of very few words, if he ever chooses to speak his words always have a point.::

Wullfe: "Keep it. I'm unfamiliar with the currency of this land. As such, I'm in unfit to be in charge of our finances. I suppose you're under the impression that we'll find the rest of our party here?"

::His final query wasn't meant as an insult, but a hint of sarcasm could be heard. However, he seems to lose himself to his thoughts immediately, planning for the the trip in the near future.::

Wullfe: (Can't blame her for wanting to scout our potential allies here. This is a meeting place for those of her trade...)

::Satiated for the moment, he turns back to look at the bar keep. More out of fear of confrontation rather than disrespect, he keeps Shenorai's face in his peripheral vision. While he's facing the many bottles of spirits, he speaks once more.::

Wullfe: "Whatever you decide is fine by me, however, if we could save some money by choosing to make the trip by foot instead of horseback, then my vote is for making the trek by foot..."

::Sliding over a little, he nods to the map over her shoulder.::

Wullfe: "From the way you speak, one would assume you're intimately aware of the path to your own village. I'm sure if we were to follow your directions to the letter, we'll arrive on time..."

::Done for now, he moves back to his chair and waits for her thoughts.::
 
"Well, that's how I usually find comrades, I suppose...mostly fellow bounty hunters and mercs come in here anyway."
...he does have a point about the 'saving money' bit, though, Shen...
True...I guess we'll just have to wait and see what'll happen...

Shen picked up the soaked lemon wedge and popped it in her mouth, chewing the pulp off of the rind. She didn't make much of a sour face, but her eye twitched a bit from the lemon's juice. Glancing back at the map, she quickly skimmed over her route to make sure it was correct before rolling it up and slipping it back into her pack. Once done with that, she pulled the now-clean rind out of her mouth and set it back in the cup, swallowing whatever pulp remained in her mouth.

Think we're all set for the trip, Shen?
"...as far as provisions go, I'm sure we could hunt if we need to. I think there may be a couple of small streams on the way, but I'm not sure if I'm thinking of the right patch of woods..."

By now, she trailed off, realizing she probably looked like she was talking to herself. She clenched her teeth behind her closed lips, hoping that'll shut herself up somehow.
 
A little more prepared to decipher an exotic accented response over the noise of the streets, the red headed warrior only needed a moment to silently enunciate the words with his own inner narrator before he could register the introduction. Had he not had the intriguing new foreign names to digest, there wouldn’t have even been that moment of mental assembly. What was this place that bred fair eyes, but dark skin, and forged gorgeous weaponry, but not it’s counter?

“Pay-akay Make-tad, of Valrole.” He repeated to be sure, and to attach the memory of the words to this interesting fellow. As much as he knew he’d likely butchered the pronunciation, his unflinching expression acknowledged no signs of error. “I am, indeed, a warrior; ‘Soul Sheath’ is our tittle that I most favor. My name is Lehth-rihn Mal-kord, and I am from a city called Rih-zeet”

At the realization he was talking slow at the small man, his pulse admonished him with a rosy pinch to the cheeks. Lethryn hid the mild tinge of shame behind a touch to an imaginary itch above his third eye’s circlet, and he abruptly turned to face the road they would walk. He nearly clattered into a passing man with the sudden movement, though he was too stubborn and the man was in too much of a hurry for either of them to acknowledge, much less apologize for it.

“We should leave for this mercenary guild now. There will be a seasons worth of ice..or...rain, in time to talk later, but we can’t be sure we wont miss the best chance for a job.” A pointy metal boot shuffled as he started, but halted it’s heel as it’s wearer remembered something. Not really able to look over his steel shoulders, and not wanting to turn back around after making such a spectacle the first time, he spoke a quick word through his back at the merchant who had been so helpful as to give directions. “I appreciate your time..and assistance.”

Lethryn started through the crowd, as unintentionally against every occasional current as ever, in the direction he and his acquaintance were pointed in. It wasn’t far, from what the man had said, but no journey through an unfamiliar place ever feels as short as it is. The people along the way were only making it longer, with their constant babble and confusing goings on that were making it hard for the youth to even hear himself think. But, he did happen to hear the ear raking stab of unkind words tear through all other distractions.

“How dumb do you have to be to steel a bag of rocks?” The oldest of a group of dirty, malnourished children spoke over a little girl, already curled up against the wall in shame and hurt. “Oh, wait, I know, about as dumb as you have to be to get filched when your doing the filching!”

All of the other kids laughed and agreed, and the one they were ganging up on started to convulse slightly in tears under her moldy sleeves from the assault. Lamely watching from the street, Lethryn felt helpless as the bullies threw words of stone at the crying child. He knew kids never knew when to stop, but, he realized that these ones didn’t have anyone to teach them when. These were kids who didn’t have the luxury of food, or water, or clothes, or even the love a parent gives. These were kids who had to steal everything they had in order to survive, who had to tear down the only person they found who was lower than them in order to feel like they were worth something. And then there was this worthless girl at the very bottom.

Lethryn felt heartbroken for these individuals who were barely younger than him, but would never get the childhood, or rearing to adulthood he didn’t even realize he was lucky to have. But, what was he supposed to do?
 
::As Shenorai stops herself mid sentence, Wullfe turns to face her. His emotionless eyes and stoic expression fail to express his mild curiosity concerning her monologue. His keen gaze manages to notice the muscles around her jaw contract, indicating that she had either just clenched her teeth or bit her tongue...::

Wullfe: (Both confusing courses of action. I wonder if all of the citizens of this country behave in such an eccentric manner?)

::Searching his brain, Wullfe tries his best to find the appropriate gesture to denote his interest in her thoughts. Settling on something he had seen a mother do to her child, he tilts his head slightly to the right, as if to say, "continue". However, due to his alienation from others growing up and his status as a foreigner here, he continues on to narrow his eyes, as he had seen the mother do to her child, completely unaware that when the mother did this to her child, she was patronizing him, and unwittingly, Wullfe in turn was patronizing the female bounty hunter.::
 
Shen, realizing that her new companion was watching her again, shook her head as she waved her hand in a 'never mind me' gesture. Some hair that was tucked behind her ears were shaken loose and hung beside her face, nearly obscuring her violet eyes.

"Sorry," she said rather quickly, spitting out a usual excuse, "didn't mean to ramble."

Shen didn't bother to tuck her hair back again. In fact, she used it as a bit of a wall to prevent her from making odd comments that might cause him to change his mind. Silence fell between them. As though to be somewhat constructive during this wait, Shen pulled the change purse closer and emptied it onto the counter. Though some of the money was indeed a little dark from dirt and grime, it was still obvious which coins were which.

Ben approached the two again, after giving one of the noisier drunks his second Zombie. Seeing how quiet it is at this side of the bar, Ben decided to try and start up a conversation.

"...so how long have you been in Crysta?"

By then, Shen had already sorted out the coins and were counting them along with hers. Apparently, she also pulled over the coins that Ben didn't take and counted those as well. She was counting barely under her breath, but soon came to a total, which came out in more of a mutter than anything.

"...so that's seventeen, no...eighteen gold...thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty silver...and ten copper...not a bad start..."
 
::Confused by Shen's unusual reaction, Wullfe sits back on his chair and leans forward, resting his crossed arms on the bar top. Absentmindedly, he barley nods at Bens inquiry, appearing not to have heard the words at all.::

Wullfe: (The longer we wait, the slimmer our chances for victory. My bet is that we're not the only ones heading for this bounty, regardless of how unattractive the prospect may be...)

::As if it possesses a mind of its own, Wullfe's right hand leaves the cradle created by his left elbow and reaches out to the worn wood of the table. His delicate fingers trace along the numerous scars created by the countless bar fights. Coincidentally, one such fight seems to be brewing within the small pub at that very moment. Two tables away from Shen's party, a pair of burly rather large bounty hunters seem to be arguing concerning a bounty they hunted down together. Completely unaware of the brawl about to take place, Wullfe quietly addresses Shenorai.::

Wullfe: "Master said, '...He who is first in the field and awaits the coming of the enemy, will be fresh for the fight. Whoever is second in the field and has to hasten to battle will arrive exhausted...'."

::His words are spoken in a whisper, barely audible to even one so near as Shenorai. Turning to face her, he continues.::

Wullfe: "While I appreciate your patience, the probability of us finding comrades for our trip on the journey there is quite favourable, especially in these parts..."

::In the meanwhile, the two bounty hunters have now drawn weapons, and cleared the sections between them, so as to create a clear path. The tension between them thickens, as both men prepare to attack...::
 
"Maybe," Shen replied, scooping the coins back in the pouch. After pocketing the pouch for now, Shen turned her head to face Wullfe again. She opened her mouth as though to say more, but was interrupted by a half-empty mug hurtling in front of her, knocking her empty cup and saucer off the bar and sending it shattering on the floor behind the bar. The ale that was left in the mug splattered across the bar, splashing onto both Shen's and Wullfe's gloves. Shen instinctively pulled her hands back once they were wet. With a deadly spark in her eye, she glanced over at the two fighting and sighed. Since the mug wasn't intentional, the spark had faded. Apparently, that mug was smacked towards their direction thanks to a badly-aimed swipe.

"...not again...they should learn to work separately," she noted, as though this wasn't the first time this had happened. Shen stood and picked up her pack, turning back to Wullfe. "Let's go somewhere a little less hazardous, shall we?"

Her pack was already over her shoulder and Shen pulled off her gloves, wringing the ale out of them as she was walking towards the exit. A few other customers had the same thought and were heading in the same direction.
 
Paeakhe winced a little at Lethryn's attempt at his name. For the most part it wasn't horriblly pronounced, except that he said Paeakhae, which is obviously a girl's name. Not bothering to take offense, Paeakhe nods, and tries his hand at translating the more significant words in his introduction. Soul sheath?must That's a curious title! His natural inquisitiveness almost took over on the spot, but before he let it, he made sure to acknowledge the introduction.

He smiled and did his best not to maim the words, "Lehthrehn Mahlk-" he paused, cut off by Lethryn's sudden spin and near collision with a passerby. Paeakhe was thoroughly confused. Surely this couldn't be how you greeted someone in whatever bizzare world Lethryn came from? He was doubley a forgiener to Khajhai ways, but it must be some sort of odd situation... suddenly lost in his own world of thought, he missed the first half of what Lethryn was saying, and was brought back by a strange word? Ice? Wait, Ice! He'd heard of this Ice in his recent travels, and was eager to see it. They said it got colder than it already was! Which was preposterous of course, but he supposed the Ice itself might be cold.

Season of Ice! Where is that? Could he visit it? What did it look like? Solid water! He wanted to ask everything about the Ice, but Lethryn was already slicing his way through the current of the crowd, and Paeakhe had to dart forward to catch up, haven't left himself behind.

Fortunately he wasn't very far, and he caught up to Lethryn in a moment. Slowing so as not to crash into Lethryn, he was suddenly distracted by the fluttering beat of a frightened little heart. Looking down the alley, he witnessed the same scene Lethryn himself was stopped by. The ragged children, with their torn clothes and dirty faces, bruises and scrapes. For a long moment he didn't understand what was going on. But he recognized hurt, and he could see the group's bullying of the lone little girl. It was her heart that had caught his attention. Beating fast and frightened like a hare. He could feel the weakness of hunger, and of sickness. But she was strong, and had an unstoppable will to live, like all children. He could feel the pressure of her little heart on his skin, the rush of blood through the veins. He was being pulled, and pulling. Soaring down into the earth. Suddenly he snapped the connection, breathing hard. His heart pumping as fast as the little girl's, he shuddered.

That hadn't happened before. It shouldn't have happened. He tried to push the memory out of his mind, willpower trying to override his desire to observe what had happened, watch it and experence it and learn it's secrets. It was wrong. But... he now knew the girl was sick. He knew his talent didn't lie with deep healing, but he didn't think it was serious. She was just too weak to fight it off completely.

Forgetting about the situation revolving around her, he surreptitiously slid his dagger out of it's sheath an inch and made a small quick slice across his palm. That accompished, hopefully at least mostly unnoticed in the press of the crowd who were likely more interested in his hair and shirt and tattoos, he strode into the alleyway toward the little girl. The group of children suddenly went silent when they noticed him, fear and caution bred into them from their time on the streets. The girl herself didn't notice him approach, or drop to a crouch next to her. She didn't notice him until he lay his bleeding hand on her neck, and she felt warmth course through her, like when the sun moves out from behind the clouds. At first she jumped like a startled deer, but after a moment she settled down with a child's pragmatism. She felt bad, and now she felt good.

After another instant he was done, and he removed his hand. The only immediate evidence of what he had done was a red mark on the girl's neck and a thin line across his palm. Though, beneath the layers of dirt and grime and tatters, the scratchs and bruises were no longer apparant, and Paeakhe was visibly pale (well, paler than he had been a moment before).
 
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::Completely unperturbed by the flying mug, or the contents spilling on his glove, Wullfe simply nods to acknowledge his companions suggestion. He leans back a bit, tilting his seat further than it would appear safe, and manages to barely dodge a plate following the path of the mug. As he rises, he draws his hand back into his cape. Away from prying eyes, he covers his heart with a shaky hand. He can feel a mind numbing pain, crashing through his body, and his vision start to blur. On what he can only hope aren't shaky legs, he stalks after Shen, as she leads the way out of the not so safe pub.::

Wullfe: (It's coming back... And it hurts... Worse!)

::Though physically wracked by pain, his actions show no sign of any discomfort. The only notable difference would be that his brow is slightly furrowed, and his eyes are drawn taut, as if he's peering into the distance.::

Wullfe: (I ~ I can't hide it anymore.)

::Just as he feels as if he's about to pass out, the pain passes, and he instantly regains his composure. Hoping his new partner had not witnessed any signs of weakness, he strides to walk next to her. More confident in her ability to scour the town for likely recruits, he leaves the directions of their travels so far completely in her hands.::

Wullfe: (?!)

::Even before the unlikely pair come within eyesight of the commotion caused by Paeakhe and Lethryn, his keen ears pick out the raised voices coming from their general direction. The hubbub made by the crowd that formed to gawk at the strangers easily penetrated the sounds that regularly float the city. Without waiting for Shenorai's consent or advice, Wullfe heads in the direction of the alley of the band of pickpockets. Without turning to face her, Wullfe addresses Shenorai.::

Wullfe: "This way."

::Finally Wullfe has managed to break through the crowd, and glances over at the spectacle of the two strangers, surrounded by a group of ragtag children. Wullfe notices the little girl standing next to lean looking man cringe at the sight of him. Certain that his associate had followed him, he speaks out loud, never taking his eyes away from the queer scene in front of him.::

Wullfe: "They appear... Lost..."

::His interest in the children fades when he notices the mans spear, and his companions armour.::

Wullfe: "Perhaps... you should offer them your aid? They appear to be warriors, they might be able to further your cause, and help to achieve our goals?"

::Finally, Wullfe looks to Shenorai, as he waits for her reaction to his proposal.::
 
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Shenorai follows her new companion rather blindly, obviously oblivious to what he had heard. Once they came upon the scene, Shen looked over to Wullfe.

"Let's let them wrap up this affair first. We can ask them afterwards."

That being said, she turned to watch the scenario come to a close. Her eyes were towards the other foreigner, obviously more foreign than her current companion. She hadn't seen anyone like this before. You can easily walk into the Warrior's guild and find plenty of men in armor, but this...

Realizing she was staring, she shook her head and leaned against the nearest wall, waiting.
 
Even as the colorful spearman had freely drifted into the alley, Lethryn stood like a painted iron statue in the busy street, frozen in his moment of uncertainty as the scene played out before him. He was oblivious to whatever crowd may have been congealing around them, nearly breathless in anticipation as he watched Paeakhe lay a hand on the girl. Immediately, and inexplicably, her shakes of sorrow had ceased.

The other children were of course silent, and may as well have disappeared. All that existed right now was the mysterious treatment administered by the unusual traveler to the ragamuffin. Was he actually a healer? Some sort of mind mage? It was impossible to tell, but with little more than a touch, it was apparent he had somehow eased the girl’s plight. Lethryn, even without knowing what he was supposed to do in this situation, decided it was best to finally push himself into following.

The few steps to the alley were as light as can possibly be expected in plate armor. Awkwardly, the boy in a man’s guise stopped next to the only person he knew, his head filled with questions about what had just happened. But, his inquiry shifted once he noticed his companion’s freshly ill looking face. “...Are you alright, Payakay?” His voice and expression feigned nonchalance, but he was genuinely concerned by the sudden change in condition.
 
Paeakhe merely crouched there silently for a moment, eyes closed. He was suddenly tired, hungry, and much colder than he had been. He shivered, and looked up at Lethryn, it took him a second to comprehend what Lethryn had said, but once he had it, he gave a reassuring smile, that was only slightly marred by his offbalance sway as he stood up. Shaking his head, he regained his posture. "I merely lent my strength to her. I ahm fine, truly." He gave Lethryn an annoyed look spoiled by the humor in his eyes, "However, my name es Pay-ah-kheh, not payakay."

He looked around the alley at the group of children. Since he had moved several steps away, they had taken the opportunity to regroup with the little girl, their previous rancor trumped by their curiosity. Paeakhe didn't know what to make of these children. His fatigued mind couldn't seem to decide what it thought of this situation. He leaned forward to Lethryn. "I...do naht know why these lettl ones are here. Hwhere are their famelies? There klans would-must watch after them, es that not true? Or... are they ran-aways?"
 
Still a little confused and worried, Lethryn didn’t immediately realize that the man’s ire at the mispronounced name wasn’t entirely genuine. He took a breath that would fuel words of self defense, but then caught the joke, and smiled a moment in relief. A man who is well enough to make fun is probably just fine, and the red headed youth’s anxiety was let loose with the wasted breath. He still wanted to know what had just happened, but man’s face was still pale with exhaustion, and his mind seemed distant. Even if he assured his health was well, Paeakhe had certainly been better. The questions raised about the juvenile vagrants had come first, anyways.

“Paeakhe.” His effort put into pronouncing the name correctly was almost apologetic for his earlier botches, but it was immediately followed by an awkward pause. The delay was not because he was thinking about how to explain; Lethryn had been thinking about the children’s situation since he first saw them, and could almost write a poem about them at this point. No, Lethryn just didn’t really want to talk about what he thought must be true of the kids in front of them. However, he didn’t think dragging his weakened companion out of the alley, or delaying the question until later were correct choices of action, either. Simply softening his voice from it’s usual roar of authority was all he ended up doing.

“Cities like this don’t really have clans, as far as I know. Those kids might be runaways, but it is more likely they just don’t have any family. They’re orphans...or...children who’s parents have died or disappeared.” The armored youth paused, not knowing where to look as he stopped a subtle knot of grief from tying up his throat. He caught himself glance at the poor kids themselves, too, but Lethryn finally tore his blue eyes back to those of the person he was talking to and swallowed the lump. He was born and bred to appear strong, regardless of whether or not he felt so. “Don’t ask me why no other families took them in. I don’t know what the answer is, and the one’s I imagine are terrible.”
 
::Leaning against a nearby shop wall, Wullfe patiently watches the rather curious events unfold in front of him. As the man in armor and the boy with the fiery hair continue their candid conversation in hushed tones, his gaze drifts momentarily over the children. By now it would appear that they've regrouped, and are preparing to thank the stranger for his uncanny intervention. Though he would never admit it, watching the rag tag gang of child thieves reminded him a lot of his own childhood, growing up as a runaway.Wullfe catches himself in mid~thought, and frees his mind of the less than nostalgic memories of his past.::

Wullfe: (I've broken free of what it was that I used to be. I'm better now, and I'll never be as weak as the lost pickpockets in front of us!)

::At this moment in time, a larger portion of the crowd that had gathered to witness the spectacle had either grown bored, and decided to continue or left to pursue more pressing issues. Either way, the once formidable cluster of peoples now dwindled to around half a dozen others, excluding Shenorai and himself. The few spectators whispered amongst themselves about what they believed to be the healing powers of the spear carrying stranger. Not concerned with either Wullfe or Shenorai, their voices were easily heard by the two wayward bounty hunters.::

Spectator# 1 - Shocked: "Didja see dat?! He dun healed da little g'il all by hisself!"

Spectator# 2 - Unimpressed: "Aww, it ain't nuffin. I seen betta healas by da healas square!"

Spectator# 3 - Annoyed: "Why must you two persist in speaking in such a terrible and obviously fake accent!? It makes you sound like total, complete and utter idiots! ... And besides, the youths abilities to heal are most impressive. You don't see too many healers helping the less than fortunate, nowadays."

::Going off what he heard, Wullfe considers the mans words.::

Wullfe: (Healer? I doubt it. I don't know what exactly it is that he did, but after the girl got a little better, he got a lot worse. More than likely, such small effort on his part drained his energy...)

::Shaking his head ever so slightly, Wullfe addressed Shenorai.::

Wullfe: "It would appear that their business is done. If we wait until they exit to, for lack of a better word, confront them, we might have a better chance to catch them by surprise, and hopefully find some honest answers."

::Finally, Wullfe begins to move, and heads for the shadows cast by some random awning on some nearby building, effectively leaving Shenorai on her own.::

Wullfe: "I'll leave the talking up to you, if you need my help, just ask..."

Wullfe: (Just know, words are not my forte.)
 
Shenorai just stared at her companion who just left her to set the terms with these two. Gee, thanks, she thought as she walked over to the potential warriors. She waited for the children to scurry off to some other alleyway before addressing the two.

"Excuse me," she called out to them, attracting their attention. She stood naught ten feet from them and dug her hand into her pocket. "Both of you are warriors, correct? I think I have a job that might interest you two..."

Hoping they'd accept her offer, Shen pulled the folded flier out of her pocket and unfolded it. She walked towards the one with armor and gave the flier to him.

"I was on my way to this village to help them. Would you two be interested in helping me?"
 
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