Private Tales A Cordial Negotiation

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Elliot Aldmar

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GRAND FAIR HARBOR


The big sundial monument in the plaza above the docks read five minutes to noon. Elliot, his eyes squinted in the sunlight, looked out beyond the small piers and beyond the modest group of dockworkers, to the waters of the Allirian Strait. Out there, its backside peaking out just barely from around the reaching arm of a craggy strip of land, was the luxury ship Elliot was set to board today.

On that ship was the Benefactor. Whom he meant to betray. It was not personal, nor particularly ideological. It was simply that there was a grander end to which Elliot aspired, one which dwarfed even his own desire to conclude his "unfinished business" in Dornoch. And to this grander end, it was imperative that the false identity of Darrethyn Ilsendrith be kept intact, and the Benefactor--she who had forged this identity for him--was the only one who could destroy it at a whim.

Elliot couldn't allow that to happen. So an understanding needed to be reached. Cordial--relatively--or otherwise.

And for that possibility of "otherwise," Elliot had called in an old friend. With whom he was to meet at noon.

Elliot turned from the sundial monument and walked back to Grand Fair's modest inn.

* * * * *​

For a town with a name the likes of "Grand Fair Harbor," it was a small, cozy place. Even the word town seemed a bit generous of a description, village striking one as more appropriate. The local Grand Fairers all knew each other--it was that kind of quaint place--but even so there were plenty of visitors and travelers. Grand Fair was part of the Kingdom of Oban, situated south and a little east of Oban proper, as part of the small stubby peninsula there (the locals called this peninsula "The Right Thumb," because, well, face the palm of your right hand toward yourself and stick out your thumb. Now look at a map. Looks like the curl of your right thumb, doesn't it?). The village was nestled in the only place of safe harbor--for small boats, at least--among the picturesque rocks and crags prominent along most of the shore. Red clay roofs and white-walled homes comprised the whole of Grand Fair, and all was bright and clean.

One of the Kingdom's little gems.

* * * * *​

Elliot entered the inn, the Grayshore. Three tables and accompanying chairs were about the little lobby, the rooms upstairs. But the rooms were too small for Elliot to have the conversation he wanted there. He knew. He'd been up there with his "guest" already.

He walked up to the Innkeeper, an elderly human with a well-put-together appearance. The Innkeeper stopped sweeping. Looked to Elliot inquisitively.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I need the inn."

The Innkeeper flashed a puzzled face. "But...you've already got a room."

"I know I've got a room, I need the inn."

"I don't rightly understand."

Elliot's hand slipped into a pouch on his belt and he took out a few coins and took hold of the Innkeeper's hand and palmed the coins into them. "It won't take long. Just stand outside the front door and tell people you're closed for a bit. I've got some friends coming."

He saw the concerned look on the Innkeeper's face and said with a slight forward cant of his head, "It's not anything illegal or sordid. I'm just having a private conversation and that's all. You have my word."

His concern allayed, if only by small measure, the Innkeeper posed another question, "So...how will I know to let your friends in, if I'm to be keeping people out?"

"Because they're going to ignore you."

And with that, the Innkeeper, broom in one hand and the few coins in the other, gingerly started to walk to the front door. He opened it and stepped outside and closed it.

Elliot sat down at one of the tables of the lobby. Crossed his legs and his arms.

Waited.

Siegewright Zilvra Srivani Nysia
 
The ship which Elliot watched was one of grandeur and excess. Something that had no home here in Grand Fair Harbor, an ostentatious beast that made even an Anirian War Galleon look like a fishing boat. It's hull was made of a strange red wood, it's sails black as night, and it's prow decorated with the face of a screaming Gorgon.

Every inch of the ship seemed leafed in gold and red hues, the decks above and below shaped for a creature much larger than any human. A creature that lay splayed upon the aft of the ship.

Nysia frowned as her fan flittered back and forth. "I hate the overworld."

The Lamia let out a sigh as she tilted her head back, resting upon her méridienne and motioning to one of the faceless nearby. The creature was a thing of her own design, a hollow shell of nothing crafted with a sliver of a life. They were the size of a man, their face blank as a doll. An eeriness clung to their every movement, as though they were a marionette with no strings.

As the creature moved towards her she slowly turned her head, glancing away from the miserable city and turning her attention to the man standing at the railing.

"Thero." Without missing a single beat the man turned on his heel to face Nysia. He was a human, or he had once been long ago. She had gifted him with a life far beyond what most mortal men would have enjoyed, though time had taken it's toll. Thero's flesh was drawn with dark rivers, one of his eyes burned a deep crimson, and his teeth seemed to have turned to points.

"Yes, My Lady?"​

As the man waited expectantly the faceless Nysia had motioned to placed a tray down besides her lounge, a small cage sitting. Within it sat a bird, what had once been a crow and now seemed but a twisted mockery of the life it once bore. "I want us ready to leave once we have what I came for."

Slowly Nysia raised her clawed hand, a strange flicker of purple light running over her flesh.

The cage fell upon, and the monstrosity within hopped forward onto it's edge. A smile touched Nysia's lips, her knuckle stroking over the creatures flesh.

"The Good Mayor made the bargain for three days, and we must keep our bargains." The Lamia said as she picked up the bird, it's strange claws pricking against her finger. Slowly she lifted it into the air, it's eyes flashing an odd purple.

"Of course, My Lady. I will see that everything is ready."​

Nysia nodded absently, and the monster perched upon her finger shifting. Then she quickly jerked her hand forward, throwing the creature into the air. It's wings spread, flapping as it began to soar towards the city at the edge of the bay.
 
The ocean breeze played a discordant melody as it whistled through Siegewright's hollow helmet. He stood with his stance wide, towering over the crowd with an unintentionally intimidating aura. Had he been capable of facial expressions, one might actually find him to be quite comical in this moment. The ocean and it's mysterious depths sprawled out beyond the docks of the quaint town. Some may see it as beautiful and exciting. But for Siegewright, all it meant was a risk of rust or sinking. He feared very few things, and the ocean was one of them. If he had a body, he would certainly shudder at the thought.

He turned his head slightly to face the large sundial next to him, observing its shadow. It is about time. He pondered aloud to himself as an unknown weight pressed against his side. He glanced over, watching as a weary traveler dropped his pack and leaned into him.

"Are... you alright?" Siegewright spoke hesitantly, his deep voice reverberating throughout his body. The man yelped pitifully and scrambled away in a panic. Multiple passerby's seemed startled as well, distancing themselves and leaving Siegewright behind with the traveler's bag. He bent slowly to collect it, seeming to ponder it for a moment, then tying it to his side next to his broadsword. It seemed whenever he visited small towns such as this he was often mistaken as a statue or suit of armor on display. Perhaps rural communities were not acquainted with my kind during the wars.

Deciding the square had offeredmore interaction than he desired, Siegewright moved forward. He scanned the various signs, dwelling on each before passing on. Reading was also not a strong suit of his, has his talents lied solely in fighting. Whatever he did learn, he observed from others. Thankfully for him, most inns look similar, especially in small towns such as this. He had traveled enough to know that. However, the portly innkeeper interrupted his path. Siegewright gazed down stoicly, standing a good foot and a half above the man.

"Sorry sir," the innkeeper offered. "We are closed for the time being."

Siegewright pondered this for a moment, unmoving. He paid no heed to the increasing nervousness of the older man in front of him, concluding that this was intentional. One rarely does mercenary work without discreetness. He gently placed a leather hand on the man's shoulder, moving him aside in a manner that suggested no ill will, but also a warning if he did not comply. The man opened his man to speak again, then opted not to as Siegewright bent down to fit through the doorway. He often came off more threatening than intended, but it is almost unavoidable when someone of his stature lacks a face.

As his vision adjusted to the dimmer lighting, he saw him. An old friend, of which Siegewright did not have all that many. He crossed the lobby in a few large strides, quietly settling into a wooden chair that was a touch too small for him.

"It has been quite some time." He bowed his head slightly as a sign of greeting and respect. He then untied the pack from his waist and set it on the table, hoping to look through it later. Siegewright did not really dabble in thievery, but trinkets fascinated him to no end, and he was eager to see if he had procured any with his 'accidental gift'. He turned his attention to Elliot once more, waiting patiently.
 
Zilvra De Valle gave a slightly disappointed sigh as she approached the Grayshore inn. Not exactly the type of establishment she was accustomed to frequenting, but one made do with what one had. Besides, she had visited places far more sordid in her line of work. An unfortunate disadvantage that came with the package when you had so much power over the disadvantaged.

Beside her walked the dark skinned Mute, towering over her at 6'2 and ever armed and vigilant, lest they fall under attack... Not the charcoal dark skinned as she was of course, but the warm brown that came naturally to humans born under a far warmer climate. While the talents of a dark elven body guard would've been a welcome addition to her ranks, she found humans to be far more susceptible to her magic and far less skilled in the arts of deceit and betrayal. A mere mortal though he may be, she was pleased with his services. And his lack of a tongue with which to interrupt or speak back was a nice bonus.

As she approached the doors, she was slightly annoyed to find the innkeeper barring the way, insisting that the inn was closed at the moment. "Not for me it isn't dear," she corrected him as Mute stepped forward, warningly putting his hand on the hilt of the curved sword that hung at his hip. Luckily the innkeeper backed down easily and stepped aside to let the pair pass. "Most obliged," Zilvra thanked him before passing by her subordinate so that she might be the first of the pair to enter.

Her eyes quickly fell on the man she had been seeking. "Aldmar," she greeted him with a smile of recognition and a nod of respect. "A pleasure as always, and my gratitude for you assistance in this matter." After all, Elliot was not the only one who had an issue with this "benefactor", and it seemed that for the moment, both of their goals were aligned.

As she approached the table, Mute pulled the chair out for the lady to sit, and stood silently behind her when she sat down. "I believe you have yet to meet my associate. He's relatively new. Been with me for the past five years or so. You won't mind him, he's very amenable." It was a statement, not a question. While Elliot Aldmar had yet to do anything to suggest a betrayal, she was not about to dismiss her bodyguard and grant him the opportunity. A lady could never be too careful, after all.

Turning her gaze to the man sitting besides Elliot, Zilvra looked the strange metal man up and down with both curiosity and fascination. This didn't look like any kind of armour she had ever seen. If anything, it looked as if the man were forged from the metal itself. Some kind of golem perhaps? How very pragmatic. "I believe we have yet to be acquainted," Zilvra greeted Siegewright, politely extending her hand towards him. "Zilvra De Valle. A pleasure."
 
Had she really been so blind to think that she was anything other than a possession? A caged pet brought out to entertain guests and ushered back to her chambers with a pat on the head? Before she had come to live with... Before she had belonged to the royal family, Srivani had been a slave to a group of travellers and had had a life far less pleasant than the immured but luxurious one she'd been granted in Oban's Royal Palace. And so, the genasi had allowed herself to believe that she'd been rescued, and she'd been in such gratitude to her liberators that she hadn't really cared that she had simply been bought above the asking price and transferred from one rusted cage into one that was gilded.

She'd remained sat on the windowsill of the little room for some time now. That the window was open (she'd tested the door too), and that there were no guards there charged with keeping her inside was a thrilling idea and yet one frightening enough to keep her where she sat.

The small ball of flame that she passed between her hands cast the side of her face in a warm, flickering glow as she seemed to watch the village below, though her gaze was distant and her mind was somewhere much further as she considered all that the silver-skinned elf had said to her. His words swam through her mind like ghostly whispers, clashing against those that her personal guard, Luca, had spoken to her when he'd brought her to the palace.

'This is your home.'

'I can't tell you what is right. Only you can know it, because you are the final judge of what is moral and what is just in your life. But I would have you know this: you are not alone..'

'You'll be safe here, Miss Srivani..'

'The chains that bind you are not unique. Across the whole of Oban people are suffering. Women, much like you, are suffering. It makes no difference that your cage is gilded--it is a cage all the same, just like theirs.'

'There are people outside these walls who will want to do you harm.. You are guarded for your own protection.'

'If you wish to stay in it, this cage, then stay. Make that moral choice, and through your complicity promulgate it throughout all of Oban. Set the example. Tell the people through your action to stay in their own cages.'


'The King wishes for you to be taken good care of. You are very important to him..'

'Or, if this is not what you want, then come with me. Live out a moral that objects to the Oban of today, and lays a foundation for an Oban of tomorrow.'
What did she want? Freedom? She had no idea what the word even meant, she had no clue how to survive alone in the world, like an animal kept too long in captivity. Her cage had become her safety and again and again she thought back over her own impulsive decision to leave with him and felt a fresh surge of panic. But, Elliot had made it seem like she was wrong to stay, that she had set some sort of example, that by stepping out of her confines she might help others do the same. She couldn't be responsible for others accepting their imprisonment.

The King would be furious, she realised. Not 'worried' or 'upset', just enraged that his most polished possession had been smuggled away from under his nose. That he'd been stolen from and that someone else might put on a better soiree than he with a performer like Srivani in their inventory. Would he search for her?....

The arrival of the first of Elliot's guests to arrive stole her undivided attention and she watched him enter the inn from the window above, her head tilted with intrigue. Curiosity tugged at her like a leash, and Srivani danced across the room to the door. She stopped out of habit, staring at the brass doorknob for a moment and she still managed to feel some semblance of surprise that it opened at all despite having opened and closed it three times already in the past hour. Her lips curled and she stepped into the hallway, her bare feet barely making a sound on the floorboards as she made her way to the top of the stairs in time to hear a female introducing herself.

When not on a stage performing, Srivani was painfully shy. At least, she believed she was. She just wasn't terribly used to talking to people, and so she chewed idly on her lip and quietly descended to the middle step to sit herself down, and from between the posts of the banister she watched the little gathering with interest.
 
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The door opened, and the first of Elliot's guests came inside.

Mercenary of the Thronebreakers company, of which Elliot too had once been a part. Man not of flesh and blood, but of wood and metal. And, as well, the single-handed breaker of the enemy's morale at the Battle of the Cairou River Crossing. Siegewright.

Elliot likewise tipped his head in respect. Said, "Good to see you again, brother."

And, timely enough, the door of the Grayshore Inn opened again, and there came in his second guest, Zilvra De Valle (flanked by a bodyguard). Dark Elves, half or full-blooded, were more often than not a rare sight on the daylight-drenched surface of Arethil. From it came a natural kinship found solely among foreigners in a foreign land, each recognizing the other, each seeing in the other an island of familiarity--however vague--amidst the sea of the strange. And so it was that Elliot had become acquainted with Zilvra, and it was even more of a fortuitous happenstance of their meeting that she happened to be an employer, Elliot at the time seeking to be employed.

Though here in Grand Fair, the table had to a degree been turned around. Partners now in a mutual venture.

Another tip of his head. "Zilvra. I'm glad you could make it."

And he waited momentarily as Zilvra engaged Siegewright, allowing them to exchange introductions. He knew them both, knew of Siegewright's capability and loyalty, of Zilvra standing to gain from this conflict with the Benefactor. He had no doubt that they would commit themselves to the task at hand. But Elliot did wonder: what of the task ahead? That which this conflict with the Benefactor was but a mere stepping stone? Would Siegewright, would Zilvra, would even Srivani for that matter, have the stomach for it, to do what was necessary to enact liberating change? This endeavor now with the Benefactor was more than it appeared: Elliot would be evaluating the three of them, their potential willingness to get...dirty.

Elliot heard a little something in the quiet inn, the tiny shifting of clothes and the small patter of feet about wooden stairs. A minute turning of his head, barely a turning at all, and then he focused back on those at the table. He leaned forward, engaged, and entwined his hands together.

"I'll get right to it," he said. "This is about the Lamia from Nar'Vhen."

Zilvra clearly would know, though Siegewright likely would not. Elliot pressed on anyway.

He pointed back behind himself, up at the staircase and toward Srivani.

"And her."

He purposefully said nothing more, studying their faces, their reactions, wanting to see if Srivani, the King of Oban's fiery prize, would be recognized by either of them.

Siegewright Zilvra Srivani Nysia
 
Attention turned back towards the door, Siegewright watched the woman enter. Her skin was arguably the same shade of the metal he was comprised of, which he had found to be rather uncommon among the living beings in the area. It appeared that her and Elliot may have similar heritage. Siegewright remained as he was, unconcerned with the new presence. If his friend trusted her, then he did as well. He had little/no reason to question further than that. The way she spoke was elegant and carried authority, which Siegewright took note of. Although social prowess was not one of his notable skills, he felt more comfortable amongst those acquainted with leadership. After all, servitude was his primary reason for existing, and it was how he had spent much of his conscious life.

He was, however, surprised at the hand extended to him. Most tended to be too fearful of him upon introduction, especially if their difference in stature was significant. It seemed Zilvra De Valle was not a woman to be easily intimidated. "Siegewright." He offered simply, not being a man of many words if not necessary. He accepted her hand gingerly as it was much smaller than his own, and gave it a gentle shake before releasing it. He leaned back in the poor chair that strained under his weight, listening intently to Elliot as he began speaking. Despite his effort to be attentive and focused, he was soon a trifle confused. He was not familiar with the Lamia, or Nar'Vhen. It seemed Siegewright still had much to learn of the world he was trying to find his place in.

That was of little concern. He had never needed to know all the details of a mission; it was his role to do as he told. Whatever Elliot spoke of, Siegewright was just please to offer his assistance to his old colleague. Opportunities to feel connected to others and not just wandering through the lands as lifeless entity were something he craved, although he was not willing to admit it. His understanding of his own feelings were still somewhat limited, but if he had to guess, he just felt happy to be needed. Certainly Elliot would provide whatever information was necessary for their success.

His internal dialogue was cut off as he followed Elliot's finger up the stair case. Feet? He looked closer, observing the slender woman who seemed very attached to the stair banister. He pondered on who she could be, how she had moved so quietly, and why she seemed hesitant to approach them. Perhaps her presence here was not, as Siegewright had heard others say, common knowledge. Knowing what he did of his friend, this woman was likely needing help to get away from something, or someone. He did not know the feeling.

Perhaps it was his lack of body, or his lack of having ever truly lived for himself, but Siegewright felt most at ease when working under command. However... he wondered, observing her behavior. His service had always come with an element of freedom to it; he had never felt trapped. Maybe that is not the case for this woman.
 
The flapping of wings within the winds was almost completely unheard.

With the sea air at it's back the crow seemed almost propelled into the air. Strange leather skin twitched, feathers fell, and purples eyes lanced through the night sky as though it was burning day. Slowly the crow soared through the air, it's head twisting, it's strange gaze flicking over the village.

Then suddenly it fell.

Wings tucked into it's side, body like a missile the crow dove down. It tumbled through the air, falling, falling, until it's flesh pulled apart and it came to a sudden and almost unnatural gliding stop just a few feet above the ground.

The startled cry of a woman could be heard, a yelp as the strange monstrosity nearly fell upon her. The abomination let out a caw, and then swooped high, slowly sailing through the air until it reached the roof of the Grayshore.

It's claws clacked into the thatched tiles, slowly moving, slowly stepping towards one of the windows.

There it bent, it's purple gaze peering in through the window.

Watching.
 
Another tip of his head. "Zilvra. I'm glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, my dear," Zilvra replied matter of factly. "After all, you are not the only one who have stakes in this affair." Now, Zilvra had absolutely no idea at the moment what sparked this betrayal that Elliot had with his employer. A surprise to be sure, he was usually so efficient. Still, she certainly wasn't here as a favour to him. Zilvra was here because one of her greatest assets was at stake. A girl. One of her highest earners, in fact. Of course, the Mute she could depend on to see this job through to the end. He was very fond of the girl. He considered her a friend. To Zilvra though, the woman was a walking goldmine. What sort of business woman would she did nothing to retrieve that source of income? She wanted her back. And if that was impossible... If the girl was no longer salvageable Well, she would have to find some other form of recompense.

"Siegewright." He offered simply, not being a man of many words if not necessary.

Zilvra took note of the man's simple greeting and the gentle way he shook her hand. Shy or just stoic? Too early to tell, but she could work well with either. The main thing was that he lacked arrogance, which was an extremely important assent when it came to working with strong men. It kept them from getting themselves killed.

"I'll get right to it," he said. "This is about the Lamia from Nar'Vhen."

Ah, so that was the name. Always important to know your enemies.

"And her."

Of course, Zilvra had heard of the famous Dancing Flame of Oban, but had sadly never had the pleasure of watching her perform, so had no way of putting a face to the King's missing entertainer. What she did recognise though, was the very face of beauty itself when she saw it. "My, what a treasure," Zilvra remarked when she looked the woman up and down. Those gorgeous auburn curls. Those shining eyes of gold. Yes, Zilvra could imagine how a woman like this could cause Elliot to forget his mission. "I take it this lovely creature is yours?" she questioned Elliot, curiously. His slave or servant? No. Zilvra knew Elliot enough to know that his values absolutely forbid the idea of keeping a human being as a possession. But his companion? His accomplice? His lover even? All of those were quite possible. All in all, she wanted to know how attached Elliot was to the girl. After all, if the attachment didn't run that deep, Zilvra could certainly find a use for her.
 
Delicate fingers curled around the splintery bars of the banister as she peered down, taking in the names and faces, though the gold of her eyes appeared to catch the flickering light in the room as they settled on Seigewright in wonderment. He did not look to be flesh and blood, and yet he moved and spoke and it was a thing that her mind struggled to contemplate. He seemed to be a thing that was built to be feared, perhaps he was some sort of weapon, perhaps dark magic animated him, and yet Sri couldn't summon the fear in him as she could in other things.

She'd been too busy silently surveying him and hadn't expected the conversation to be directed toward her at all that when it did she shrunk back, her hands recoiling from the banister with a few splinters in punishment for her prying.

'Her?'

Srivani's slender brow dipped in confusion, she hadn't really heard what he'd said before the word, before Elliot's finger had pointed the others' attention toward her, and her perplexity was plain. Sri surely had nothing to do with anything. The dark elf had smuggled her out of Oban, a feat she'd never have thought possible considering the constant security she'd had around her every minute of every day, and yet.. She'd never actually considered why, nor where she would go. The jewellery she'd been adorned in for her performance in the gardens would more than pay for a comfortable life, but as alone as she'd felt in her captivity, she wasn't entirely sure how to be on her own.

'I take it this lovely creature is yours?'

Her smouldering eyes shifted to the female as she spoke and then fixed on Elliot with a soft frown. His? He had liberated her, she didn't belong to him, or anyone... Did she? She'd wordlessly await his correction from where she sat. She hadn't been addressed and so her lips remained pressed tight shut as they all looked at her. Being looked at was something she was used to, but in her life she could never recall feeling so unnerved by the eyes on her.

Why was she here?
 
Succinct as always, Siegewright. But there was something to be said about a man who knew well at what things he excelled and at what things he did not. Siegewright's life, so far as Elliot's estimation of it went, suggested a certain preclusion from much social interaction, and as well suggested a man far more suited to the mercenary work during which he and Elliot had become acquainted. Curiously, however, that traveler's bag Siege had come in with--Elliot couldn't recall him having too many possessions and possibles.

And, if Siege had any notion of who Srivani was, then he kept it to himself. Zilvra as well, as Elliot gathered. That was alright.

But the suggestion that the "lovely creature" belonged to him was not. Elliot flashed a reproachful look at Zilvra, then it faded as he said definitively, "No. She is not."

She had been presented with a choice, a chance, a risk, Srivani had, and she opted into it, that opportunity which Elliot had presented to shed the safety of her cage for the dangerous liberation of the sky. In freedom one could soar, and in freedom one could plummet and die. It was daunting to many, this uncertainty. Many would subjugate themselves to whatever governance offered some semblance of stability and some promise of safety, no matter how horrifying this system happened to be. Elliot's father, Ormarel Dez'Synth, was one of those many, and Elliot was glad that he carried not a given name of his father's choosing nor the surname of his father's lineage. Ormarel--a wretch who loved his slavery, his oppression. And that selfsame lack of character, that flaw of spirit, which made him an ideal slave would have made him--should the chance have ever arisen--a great slavemaster, for the obedient slave and the obedient slavemaster served the same perpetuation of the soulgrinding system which consumed both in equal measure.

Srivani, thankfully, was not of Ormarel's ilk.

"Join us," Elliot said back to her, gesturing to the last seat at the table.

And he turned his attention to Zilvra and Siegewright, his hands entwined again. "I will be brief. The Lamia wants Srivani here, for purposes unknown to me, and I am to deliver her. I intend on amending this deal I have made with Lamia, through cordial means or otherwise. I highly suspect that it will be otherwise, and that ship out there in the bay?" Elliot nodded vaguely in that direction. "That's the Lamia's territory. Her home ground. Know that this is going to require a dangerous amount of improvisation."

A small moment for them to consider, and then he said, "You should leave if these conditions do not suit you."

Lastly, a look to Srivani, whether she be still on the stairs or whether she had taken a seat at the table. And Elliot, a touch gentler, said, "I won't force you to do anything. But this is going to happen regardless, even should I find myself going alone to that ship. If you do leave, it behooves you to know that this Lamia, Nysia, has taken some interest in you, and that, should I fail, she may well come for you again." A breath, and then a steely declaration, "Make the best choice for you."

(And Elliot took no notice of the bird upon the outside window sill.)

Siegewright Nysia Srivani Zilvra
 
The crow perched upon the windowsill did not move nor caw, it only stared.

It's strange leathery skin seemed to shift within the dusk sunlight, blending with the dark alleyway at it's back. Slowly it turned it's head as Sirvani stepped down the stairs, purple eyes watching her before flickering towards the female Drow.

For a moment it's gaze seemed to linger, then slowly shift to the man that was not a man. The stare became more intent, focused. It was as though the crow were trying to peer through Siegewright, understand. After just a second more the monster turned it's attention towards the final Drow.

It's head turned to the left, then to the right.

It was Elliot intently as he spoke, as he moved. The creatures focus was entirely drawn in upon the man, as though it were reading his lips.
 
It was very difficult for Siegewright to label exactly what feelings were swirling around in the empty cavity where his soul resided. He observed Srivani, seeking to understand it. In a way, her movements reminded him of a red bird he had once seen wandering through the wilderness years ago. Flighty and delicate, yet curious. The expression she wore as Elliot described the situation thus far seemed guarded but intrigued in the gathering nonetheless. This feeling... it was as if something was twisting painfully inside him.

Ah... I think Cathair explained this to me once... He continued to mull it over. If he was putting the pieces together correctly, this must be something like pity. Or was it empathy? Sympathy? His shoulders dropped slightly. Emotions were so........ complicated. Especially in his situation, where a lifetime of figuring out how they worked was completely removed from his memory.

Deciding that delving down this rabbit hole further would only cause him greater confusion, Siegewright turned his focus back to Elliot. He did not mind the risks; an individual such as himself did not carry many. However, it was difficult to mask the way he stiffened when he realized that the boat he saw in the harbor not long ago was to be the primary battleground. He was quite close to indestructible by most means, but........ water and him did not get along well.

Being far too heavy to keep himself afloat, and being at risk for rusting at the joints, he did his best to avoid it. Not that he was incapable of getting back out of water, but it takes much longer to walk out of the ocean than to swim out of it. He'd done it once before, and was not fond of how it had affected his movement. Not to mention the amount of fish that had somehow found their way into his armor. That had been unsettling.

However, he did not like presenting as a burden, so he opted not to trouble Elliot with this matter. He had more important things to attend to
. "I will do as I am commanded." He offered, hoping his willingness was made aware despite his inability to smile. "You have my word." He turned slightly to Srivani at this statement, intending it for her as well.

Siegewright struggled to pinpoint it, but it was as if there was some sort of tie. If this young woman was trapped in a life she did not want, there was almost a sense of duty to which he felt obligated to fulfill. He offered an assuring nod in her direction, unsure of what else to say.
 
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"No. She is not."

"No?" Zilvra asked curiously. Not his in any capacity? "Interesting," she commented as she studied the red haired beauty. "You do seem to be going to a great deal of trouble on her account." But then, Elliot was always a peculiar soul. Tied so heavily to his morals, and yet those morals were completely different to those of your average soul. Zilvra... Well, she was a great deal more flexible. Of course, she had a code that she lived by, but that code could be changed at a moment's notice depending on convenience. Survival, of course, was paramount. Everything else could adapt.

"I will be brief. The Lamia wants Srivani here, for purposes unknown to me, and I am to deliver her. I intend on amending this deal I have made with Lamia, through cordial means or otherwise.

"Strange creature, this Lamia," Zilvra noted. "Seems to have a disturbing obsession with beautiful women. Or perhaps that is merely a coincidence. Regardless, I am here for a similar reason. This Lamia has taken something very valuable to me and owes me recompense. I cannot let such an insult slide. A matter of principle, you understand. She will pay... One way or another." Hopefully the missing goods were still salvageable. If not... Trade, coin or blood would have to suffice.

"That's the Lamia's territory. Her home ground. Know that this is going to require a dangerous amount of improvisation."

"How dangerous?" Zilvra questioned her associate. Preferably, she would be accompanying him on the venture, but she was not so proud as to refuse him aid if this seemed like a situation she was unlikely to escape with her life. "As much as I would love to assist you for old time's sake, you understand I cannot commit to such a plan without some more detailed information concerning our Lamia friend. How heavily guarded is she? What powers does she have at her disposal? Any information you have regarding your employer would be most welcome."
 
Srivani hadn't realised the tension she held in her shoulders until they visibly lowered at Elliot's correction, but the reprieve was brief. Her gaze lingered on the female for a brave moment, a hint of a frown creasing the bridge of her nose at her response. 'Interesting..' It'd been what anyone who'd ever bought her, offered to buy her or who attempted to steal her had always said when they looked at her like that.

Her hands clasped together as she descended the last few steps following Elliot's request? Offer? Regardless, she shyly approached though had hardly made it but a few steps when his next words caused her feet to root to the cold floor. She gaped at him in confusion, her wide eyes like molten glass as she stared at him, listening.

Anger was not a thing that Srivani was accustomed to feeling, but it was there, overwhelmed only by the fear she had of the world that she'd been safely locked away from until now. Her skin seemed to radiate heat, its haze rippling the air around her as flames licked at the ends of her coppery curls.

"Lamia?.." she asked, her voice quiet as though she had not used it in some time, but she soon remembered how. "Is why you convinced me to go? You take me from Oban to... deliver me to, Lamia?" Her accent was one of someone who had travelled and picked up different words from different places, yet of someone who hadn't really learned the cadence required to string them together properly. She had forgotten her own language long ago, but the foreign twang of it gave her voice an individual inflection.

Her heart was racing, the floor around her bare feet charred. She glanced at the door and around the table. She'd have run if he hadn't further explained that this Lamia was likely to find her if she did, and so she simply paced in a circle of her own little panic for a moment before stamping a foot in frustration, a small flame igniting underneath it.

"You bring me from safety to danger. Why?! You say you may fail? But you say I be free of my 'cage' and then bring me to another? Why - Elliot?" her voice cracked and her brow furrowed before her glassy gaze shifted to Siegewright.

"You take me back?" she asked. He had said he'd do as he was commanded. Despite his lack of expression, she felt she understood the assurance in his nod, and she cautiously edged closer to him. "My King will reward you."
 
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Elliot knew not from where Siegewright's loyalty came. He was a thing constructed, not born, and as such the manner of his being was necessarily different. Whether he had grown into his own philosophy or had it artificially impressed upon him after his creation, Elliot did not know. But, as it stood at the present moment, he was glad for it. And he conveyed that gladness with a firm nod.

Zilvra he could rely on for a reason far more clear, and certainly more pervasive: vested self-interest. She had something to gain from this. A working girl, so far as Elliot's understanding of it. A noted distinction was in there, the firm wedge which separated Zilvra from the slavemasters that Elliot loathed. Voluntary choice--even if the deal was godawful. Ormarel and the people like him went obsequiously along with what they were told, molding themselves to the whims of those who deemed themselves above them. It exuded repulsive weakness, and it made Elliot sick to even think about.

Zilvra was, however, practical. Understandably so. Elliot was well aware of the risks inherent in this endeavor, but opportunity--and for Elliot, necessity--stood regardless to those very risks.

To Zilvra he said, "When I was on her ship prior, she had a compliment of personal guards. At least a dozen by my count, though that is by no means a definitive number. Nysia, if her reputation is any reliable measure, has magic at her command, though I know not what. Our sole advantage is the element of surprise. We will have one shot at this."

Lose this chance, and Nysia could easily disappear. Here, at Grand Fair Harbor, they had a known location for her, and a pretense by which to effortlessly get close. High risk, high reward, and Elliot had to take that chance. The cover identity of Darrethyn that Nysia had crafted for him was too good for him to lose, and if he did lose it, the suffering of thousands upon thousands of people would continue unabated, from this generation and into the next, with no light of hope in that oppressive darkness.

Then Srivani, who had from the corner of Elliot's eye been vexed about something ever since approaching the table (and deigning not to take a seat), spoke aloud. He hadn't told her about Nysia when he had been trying to convince her to leave with him from Beaufort Castle. Upon opting for the less forceful approach to extract her, he had deemed it necessary to keep that information to himself, and this was why. He knew it would be upsetting to say the least. Had he said as much to her while at the gala in the Castle, there would have been a good chance that he would be dead or in custody.

You take me from Oban to... deliver me to, Lamia?

"Yes."

Elliot glanced to the charring on the floor when it became visible, to the little burst of flame from the stamping of her foot. He understood her grievance when she spoke of safety and danger, even if he did not agree with it; not everyone was a warrior, and Elliot's plan with Nysia called for warriors. But when she turned to Siegewright, that's when Elliot's demeanor changed.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, regarding her with stern disappointment, saying nothing for a moment. What Srivani had said was to Elliot's ears perhaps the most wretched thing that she could have said, but in accordance with his own ethic there was nothing he could do. Those who would willingly clamp irons about their ankles were beyond his capacity to liberate.

Elliot snapped a glance to Siegewright, deadly serious. "If she wants to go back to Oban, take her. I will compensate you in advance for it, brother."

In advance. Just in case. He wouldn't leave a debt unpaid if he could help it.

Srivani Siegewright Zilvra Nysia
 
...Oh no.

Discomfort was thick in the air surrounding the warforged, the implications and emotions interlaced within the situation quickly exceeding his own understanding. He franticly searched within his mind, seeking to make sense of Elliot's irritation and Srivani's apparent fear. Siegewright had never known fear; never had there been a reason to. If he were to die, that was that. Many had said as much during the wars.

The wars... Perhaps understanding lay within those early memories of his. It mostly flashes of bloodshed, and moments spent with Ranulphus, his creator. One of the few beings who actually treated Siegewright as if he was alive, and as if he were family. Elliot referring to him as brother seemed to reinforce the distant memories.

The images of destruction and fire surrounded the small building, wherein Siegewright remained as Ranulphus adjusted elements of his armor. As he was cleaned up to ensure he still functioned effectively, Siegewright spoke. "Ranulphus..." His voice sounded even more unnatural back then, as he was still learning to use it. "What is war....? Why do I need to fight?" Ranulphus had frozen with a tool in hand, shocked at such a profound question. It was followed by a throaty laugh, and he continued with his work. "You keep surprising me, Siegewright." He busied himself, applying an ointment to Siegewright's joints. The silence preceding his next works was very heavy, and Siegewright waited. "Sometimes..." Ranulphus began carefully. "You have to fight to protect what is important, or to earn what is important." There was a gentle sparkle in his eyes as he patted Siegewright's shoulder, one offered by a proud father to his son. "That's why we need you to fight. We want to remain free."
The hollow man shook his head slightly, looking between Srivani and Elliot. Having worked with the dark elf before, he had learned the value that Elliot had placed on freedom regardless of the means to obtain it. It had reminded him of Ranulphus then as well. Then Srivani. Siegewright did not know her well, or at all really, but he had seen many fearful eyes to recognize that the idea of having to fight for her freedom must terrify her. But surely if so many people were willing to take risks for freedom, it must be worth it. Looking straight into her glassy eyes, he finally spoke. "......Are you sure that is what you truly want?" His speech was clumsy, having not overcome the discomfort of the situation, but he did not break eye contact with Srivani. "I have been.... told that being free is worth....... fighting."

He trailed off. Perhaps he shared too much. His opinion normally wasn't wanted or needed. It was a little more challenging for him to interact when that aspect changed. Siegewright looked at the ground. "I will act as needed..." He muttered again. This is too much talking in one sitting... he sighed to himself.
 
"You take me back?" she asked. He had said he'd do as he was commanded. Despite his lack of expression, she felt she understood the assurance in his nod, and she cautiously edged closer to him. "My King will reward you."

A King? A reward? Well, this young lady certainly got more and more interesting by the second. She wondered exactly how much this woman was worth to her King. Wondered also if the reward were based purely on the King's personal attachment to the woman (be it emotional or physical) or if she were somehow worth more monetarily than whatever this King would offer. Time would tell, she supposed. First thing first, get the idea of running back to the King out of the girl's head.

"Calm down, my dear," Zilvra suggested with that silvery smooth voice of hers, with just a hint of a magical element to it. One that invoked a sense of calm and trust in those she spoke to. "Take a seat. You have plenty of time in which to air your grievances and make decisions for your future. For now, keep in mind that there is a very dangerous creature that has you in it's sights. I cannot be sure why this Lamia desires you in particular. But one thing I think it's safe to assume is that you would be wise not to leave our company until the Lamia is either placated or disposed of."

Poor thing. Far away from home. Making her own decisions for the first time. Perhaps a little liquid courage could be used to help ease her worries. "Mute, dear, fetch us a bottle of wine from behind the bar, will you? As fine a beverage as an establishment like this has to offer," she suggested without much hope that the Grayshore would offer any vintage that would suit her tastes. Still, the wine would hopefully help to calm the girl's nerves, regardless of the quality. "I shall square things up with the innkeeper later."

Mute, quick to obey, headed behind the bar to use his limited knowledge of wine to try and select a beverage worthy of his rather picky mistress. Not being able to read much besides simple numbers, he simply chose the wine with the eldest date on it and brought it to the table along with four glasses. Honestly, he wasn't sure whether the metal man actually drank or not, but best not to exclude him, lest he take it as a slight and an insult.

"When I was on her ship prior, she had a compliment of personal guards. At least a dozen by my count, though that is by no means a definitive number. Nysia, if her reputation is any reliable measure, has magic at her command, though I know not what. Our sole advantage is the element of surprise. We will have one shot at this."

"I see," Zilvra replied, contemplating the information that Elliot had provided. A dozen guards should be easy enough to dispose of. Particularly if they were not expecting an attack. But the magic that the Lamia had at her disposal... Well, that could mean anything from a mild annoyance to certain death. She searched her memories for what little she knew of the race. "Lamia... Some form of daemon, if I recall correctly. Devourers of children. Highly talented seductresses of men... But since I am neither man nor child, I rather fancy my chances against such a being... What more do you recall of her entourage?" Zilvra asked, prying for as much information as she could gather. "Men? Orcs? Or something more?"

"......Are you sure that is what you truly want?" His speech was clumsy, having not overcome the discomfort of the situation, but he did not break eye contact with Srivani. "I have been.... told that being free is worth....... fighting."

"Perhaps now is not the best time," Zilvra suggested once again. "The important thing to keep in mind at present is that the girl is in danger. I do not know what this daemon has in mind for her, but I highly doubt the experience would be pleasant. And if Elliot could sneak through this King's defences to get to her, I imagine such a feat would be achievable by other mercenaries. No point in returning the girl to her home for her to only be "liberated" again by another, and likely far more forceful individual."
 
The crow cocked it's head, violet eyes slowly twitching between the figures as they spoke. Each time it seemed to focus on their lips, watching carefully. No sound left it's beak, wings fluttered only slightly as the breeze outside carried onward.

Outside a few villagers walked by, a small child pointing at the strange beast. A giggle passed from her lips, though as her mother caught sight of the creature she was quickly swiped upward and carried away without a single word.

No notice was taken, the crow only continuing to stare as it's violet eyes followed the gathered cadre.
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"Oh how utterly delightful." Nysia said with a snap of her fan, fingers curling around the soft wood as she practically beamed.

The fanged marks beneath her lips seemed to twitch slightly, violet eyes flickering as she drew her gaze away and towards one of the faceless that was standing besides her. From the tray she plucked what appeared to be a strip of flesh, popping it into her mouth. "Thero!"

She called with a soft chew.

It was only a few moments later that her servant once again appeared. His back was straight, his movements oddly fluid as he gazed towards the Lamia. A deep bow bent his mid-section, his head rearing up to catch Nysia's attention.

"Yes, my lady?"​

"It seems we'll have more guests than I originally anticipated." The Lamia mused, her a voice a honeyed confection. "Please do prepare. This trip to the Overworld might prove much more than I first anticipated."

She mused for a few seconds, then added. "How many bodies do we have aboard?"

Nysia asked with a wicked smile.
 
Srivani threw a scowl in Elliot's direction. It was deception, pure and simple, though she knew she was the fool for believing that there had been nothing more to it than a simple kindness. The genasi made no secret of her fear. She had been comfortable enough where she had been because she had known far worse, she had taught herself to be grateful for it and she had been made fully aware of how awful a place the world could be. In Oban, she had been a prisoner, but she'd been a prisoner who had been safe and well cared for.

Now, Elliot had risked her being dragged somewhere worse all over again.

"You were not honest with me." she snapped back at him at the disgust in his tone as he addressed Seigewright.

Seigewright, who was asking her what she wanted. She stared at him, timid and lost. Fighting? She had no idea how to fight, she had no idea just how dangerous she could be. She trembled at the thought of violence, she had seen enough of it.

"I cannot fight." she frowned, a sigh tumbling from her lips. She turned to Zilvra, the embers in her golden gaze dying out and her tension easing slightly as she listened to her wordlessly. She soon melted into the seat closest to Seigewright and looked around at each of them before reaching to pull her glass of wine into her grip.

"I will stay.." she exhaled quietly as she swirled the claret liquid in her hand. "Do not fail, Elliot." she frowned, lifting her gaze to his face.
 
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Srivani was talked back from the edge, thanks in part to Siegewright and Zilvra. Elliot uncrossed his arms and sat up straighter, the stern expression leaving him--had they not been here, Siegewright and Zilvra, Elliot would have let Srivani simply walk out the door. Her good fortune then, though it did give Elliot something to think about: a potential reassessment of how to demonstrate right action, speak right words, to convey his morality and to convince others of its intrinsic value. Ever a fine tuning, that.

You were not honest with me.

His tone matched his softened expression. "Yes, I know. I deemed it necessary--for you to have a chance."

Elliot himself did not like when he had to forgo forthrightness, yet he did so as it suited his needs, for there were higher goods than honesty. Deception often became an unavoidable evil. And, to break the prolific chains of Dornoch and Oban, Elliot needed to engage in a deception so grand that the entire world would be swept up in its flames.

Because it was necessary. For all the people like Srivani to have a chance.

Elliot turned his attention back to Zilvra. He ignored the glass of wine--now was not the time. "Her entourage is comprised of neither man nor orc. So far as I could tell, they were things of her making. Imperfect imitations of man and orc, perhaps. Constructed abominations." He shook his head. Said firmly, "But nothing is exempt from death."

He rested his elbows on the table again. Siegewright was going, of that Elliot was certain. Zilvra was weighing her options--that practically again, for which Elliot could scarcely judge her. The one among them who was uncertain, who leaned more so on the side of staying off of that ship, was Srivani. Unfortunately.

"I'll be frank." Elliot glanced to Srivani. "Honest, if you will." And a glance to Siegewright, Zilvra, before returning to Srivani. He said to her, "This has a better chance of success if you come with us onto that ship. I'm not asking you to fight. I'm asking for it to appear as though I am delivering you as I was contracted to do so that the Lamia's suspicions will not be roused. I can say that I needed Siegewright's help to subdue you, and Zilvra can simply say that she has come for the purposes of separate business and that we chanced upon each other. More opportunities will present themselves if the Lamia believes that all is going well, and that all is within her control."

He took in a steady breath through his nose. And his brow narrowed with the severity of what he would say next, "I cannot guarantee that you will be unharmed if you come with us."

Hard, studying eyes. Assessing her character, what he had witnessed of it in Beaufort Castle, what he had witnessed a moment ago, and what he would witness now, "But I can guarantee you this: that you will have the chance Oban would have forever denied you."

Nysia Srivani Siegewright Zilvra
 
Siegewright would have made a very convincing statue as he listened to Elliot continue to elaborate. Perhaps it wasn't so far fetched after all that people often mistook him as such. He eyed the travelling bag on the table that he had brought with him, as that thought reminded him of his previous encounter. The task before them was quite severe, requiring great levels of tactfulness and skill, and yet he still pondered upon when he could explore through these newly acquired belongings of his. Moments like this revealed that despite Siegewright's incredible strength and sword fighting prowess, he was in some ways still like a child. Having been left to his own devices for so many years, both after the great war and between employers, he was largely self taught in anything that did not revolve around battle. It was not something he often elaborated on, however, so few knew.

His gaze then slid from the bag to Srivani, who had taken the seat next to him. He thought again of that delicate red bird from so long ago. That had been a particularly long stretch of loneliness for him, and that tiny creature had been treasured company. It would often perch on his shoulder as he walked, pecking curiously at him. It even tried to build a nest inside his helmet at one point, but he wasn't quite that accommodating. Anything besides his soul being within the armor was...... uncomfortable, to say the least. Returning from his memories, he offered another small nod to Srivani. He may not know her, but this familiarity he created was enough for him.

More serious thoughts obscured the atmosphere around him as he considered the foe ahead. He had to admit, he preferred when his opponents weren't human. It usually presented a greater challenge, and bringing about their death caused less turmoil in his ever evolving conscious. Nodding slightly to acknowledge Elliot's statements, he addressed Srivani.

"If I play as your captor, I will be able to guard you efficiently." He repeated aloud, partially for Elliot to know he understood, and for Srivani to hopefully have a shred of comfort. Siegewright looked at her fully. "I will fight on your behalf." He paused, debating if the situation warranted any more input from him. "You need not worry; this is the purpose for which I was made."

He slipped back into reverie. That's right. His only reason for having been created was to fight, and he had yet to truly lose. Although his solitary journeys were often characterized by him seeking new meaning and value to his being, it ultimately returned to this point that nagged the back of his thoughts.
 
"You were not honest with me."

Zilvra gave a sly little smile as she poured herself a glass of wine. "Be glad that he decided to reveal the truth to you now," Zilvra advised. "Any other mercenary would've simply delivered you to his benefactor and left you to your fate. And from what I have heard of this Lamia, a simple death would be far preferable. Keep in mind that Elliot and the good people at this table are all that stand between you and this fate... Besides, whether you came to this point in your life through deception or no, this may well turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you. You have options now, my dear. Perhaps for the first time in your life. Tell me, do you really wish to return to this King of yours? Were you truly happy dedicating your life to serving another?" Not that Zilvra really cared about Srivani's happiness. She was simply fascinated with the beautiful woman, and wondered whether the girl could possibly be used for her own advantage.

"I cannot fight."

"That is unfortunate," Zilvra replied. That left only Elliot, Siegewright, Mute and herself. Mute could fight... In the pathetic, fist to fist and sword to sword way that humans fought. Good enough when up against other humans, but a daemon... He wouldn't stand a chance. Zilvra could fight, though she preferred not to. Her magic was better suited for manipulation tactics. Probably best if she focussed on distractions and concealment and left the real fighting to Elliot and Siegewright. Zilvra planned on leaving this situation alive, even if none of the others did.

"Her entourage is comprised of neither man nor orc. So far as I could tell, they were things of her making. Imperfect imitations of man and orc, perhaps. Constructed abominations."

"Damn," Zilvra whispered under her breath. "That certainly is a setback. After all, the Lamia certainly wouldn't keep constructions of her own devising as her protectors unless they were superior to human guards in some way or another. It could simply mean that they are more loyal than regular humans... On the other hand, it could mean that they are physically and mentally superior in every way imaginable." A shame that this woman had insulted her by taking one of her girls. Zilvra would absolutely love to learn more about these abominations that Nysia had constructed. A perfect slave that was completely loyal to it's creator would be a highly valuable possession. Particularly to one with a naturally suspicious nature such as she. It took a long time for Zilvra to trust anyone. And even when a person had finally gained Zilvra's trust, it could be lost again in an instant.

and Zilvra can simply say that she has come for the purposes of separate business and that we chanced upon each other.

"Well, that is not too far from the truth," Zilvra replied, taking small sips from her wine glass at regular intervals. "After all, the creature has taken something dear to me. I would be seeking recompense with or without your assistance. I must admit, I had hoped for a more solid plan than simply walking aboard the ship and awaiting further opportunities, but I suppose I have always been adaptable." Finishing off what was left of her wine, she turned back to Elliot with determination in her eyes. "When do we move?"
 
Her lashes narrowed, dousing the fire in her eyes as she stared in scrutiny at Elliot. He was still... Convincing. Still assuring her that this was for her own good, for her to have a chance. She did want a chance, she wanted to see new places and try new things, and she knew she'd never have had the freedom to, otherwise. Srivani had dealt with dishonesty in her life, she had known maltreatment and slavery and yet for the past few years she had been sheltered from anything and anyone that might do her harm. She had been warned that the world outside would seek to harm her, she had believed it, and so she couldn't very well be surprised that she was immediately in danger of said harm no matter how much it terrified her.

As Zilvra spoke, Srivani couldn't help but frown at her. There was a coldness to the female, but despite the way her words bit, she couldn't exactly argue with them. Had she ever truly been happy? Only when she danced, she thought, but she swallowed the words with a sigh and nodded slowly to the woman. "You speak true, lady.. I do not wish to return to the King. I wish to make choices of my own." she answered.

Her shoulders eased slightly and she gave a sharp, nasal huff, her lips thinning in acceptance of her current situation, and she looked up at Seigewright as he spoke. His words were further mollification, and her lips curled into some semblance of a sombre smile. That he was 'made' for such things, that he hadn't the choice of what he was created for caused her to reach a hand to settle on his forearm. There was no soft flesh to squeeze, but she gave it a gentle pat and her grateful smile reached her eyes.

"Thank you, Siegewright." she sighed and shifted her attention back to Elliot. "If it is what I must do. Then I must do it. Yes?". She glanced around at each of them again and dipped her chin in confirmation. "I will join you."
 
And it seemed that the matter was settled. Siegewright was well-served by acting the part of Srivani's captor, Srivani herself of course deciding that she would board the ship for the ruse, and Zilvra calculating that the risk was worth her while.

When do we move?

Elliot stood up from his seat. "The Lamia is expecting me to board her ship today, and I see no reason to delay."

If there was some advantage to gain by staying the meeting, then Elliot would have. But, as ever, time and opportunity maintained a fractious relationship. Zilvra's restraint, even Srivani's worry, were both well warranted. But it was the fact of the matter that the Lamia's position was stronger than their own, and that there was little--if anything--they could under the circumstances do to change that. They had their one card to play, and it was all or nothing.

Elliot drew in a breath, and voiced his mind. "I would have preferred to be far more prepared for this. To secure every advantage possible until success was assured. But I didn't have that luxury this time." A sideways glance to Srivani then, echoing her words, "Yet it's something that I must do. And so I will."

He gestured for a moment, and then turned and hiked up the stairs. After that moment passed, Elliot came back down to the little lobby with his quiver and his Black Bow across his back. He looked to them all--Siegewright, Zilvra and Mute, Srivani--as he walked toward the inn's front door. "There's a skiff at the docks. We'll be rowing over to the ship."

* * * * *​

Elliot led the way through Grand Fair Harbor. And of those locals whom they passed by--ones who looked toward the party and ones who preferred to mind their own business--Elliot saw the "customs" of Oban on full display. The chaperoning of the girls and women, by men or by elder women, and everyone simply went along with this state of affairs. None thought to challenge it, as could be inferred by their content--even smiling--faces. They had all been born into this, both the chaperones and those who were chaperoned alike. They knew only their cage and thought that within it was contained all of Arethil. Nothing less than the catastrophic collapse of that confined world would allow them to see the sky.

He passed Grand Fair Harbor's sundial monument, seeing the long shadow canted fairly away from noontime now. A brief thought, of if he would return to see the sundial monument once more. If his plan would survive beyond the hour and the day.

The docks. Small, as they were. Larger vessels, like Nysia's ship, had not the clearance to dock in the shallow waters by Grand Fair's namesake harbor.

Elliot walked to the edge of a short pier, and there was the skiff. He stepped down into the boat, sitting on the bench with the oars, and awaited the others to board.

Srivani Zilvra Nysia Siegewright