Theran shrugged a bit, and decided he could wait a little longer, anyway. "True enough, although I had hoped to procure some privacy. I dislike allowing too many people to know that I need help understanding anything, but personal pride has never been a good reason to make a decision, so I suppose the pub would be fine," he said, hopefully dismissing any ideas she had of the room being for anything less than moral, even though that was the truth of the matter.

Liana reconsidered, the man was being polite to her, and he seemed to just be interested in the lesson of alchemy.

"Well," she started, "People should have the respect to leave us alone in hte pub, but if we do get disturbed too much there, then I suppose we could go somewhere more private." She smiled, feeling that she had made a fair compromise.

(OOC: you can make us go to the pub in your post Krylo :P heh)

Aurok wandered about the smithy, looking at the various tools andweapons hanging on the walls. Eventually he grew bored and head towards the pub, even though he was a little bit early.

Samoht's red eyes followed Bismuth as she walked away. She was cute, but held a hidden danger in her. He could sense that strange draconic side of her sizing him up, seeing if it would be worth it to eat him or not. And the trick with making water crystals in her hair did nothing but make Samoht sure that she would not attack.

She is part water dragon. She saw what I could do with my electrical power with little effort. She would be smarter than to take me on. Even a weak electric attack would eliminate her, since the water that she naturally generates would be an excellent conductor.

He turned, his worn leather boots leaving tracks in the scattering dirt. It was time for him to go to his meeting, the only reason he was in this crappy place to begin with.

After walking for a while, he reached the pub. His red eyes scanned the surrounding area. No hidden guards anywhere. No archers sneaking around on the rooftops. It seemed legite so far. He pushed open the door and walked inside.

The inside of the pub was dark, lit only by some scattered lanterns from the ceiling. He lowered his hood, and allowed his long black hair to fall down around his shoulder. He got a few stares from some of the regulars, and then they went back to their drinks. Samoht walked to a dark corner, and sat down at a table with another gentleman. The man spoke quietly.

"Is it done?"

Samoht reached under his cloak, and pulled out a small ring. He placed it on the table, and the man grabbed it. After a quick inspection, he placed it in a chest pocket.

"Good. Very good. My employer will be pleased."

"Just make sure he remembers that this was my last job. No more assassinations for me. I've quit."

The man scoffed.

"Samoht, the Night Blade, quitting? You've made more money in this business than any other assassins I've spoken to, and I assure you, it's quite a lot. And with your new magic, you're even more efficient. With all the money you've earned, you can live a life of luxury. Why quit now?"

Samoht sighed, and thumbed slightly at the decorative shortsword at his side.

"It's gotten old. There's no challenge. And I meet the worst people. Cowards that have no idea of honor, and guards that only fight for the man's life because he pays them enough. Too many bad memories, and too many possible ones to come."

OOC: ACTUALLY Raiden, pure water - which Bismuth uses - is an extremely poor conductor of electricity. About as conductive as several metres of air. It's when water contains ions like salt and stuff that it is a more effective conductor.

IC:
Bismuth sighed as she followed - proceeded, rather - after the ruffled Raiden. Inwardly, she smiled predatorially, satisfied that once again, she had no need to use her skills in this matter. She will, however, have to correct the misguided samurai warrior that she works under nobody. Not even as a number One servant named Betsy.

Ah, well, she'll remedy that soon enough.

The afternoon found Raiden and Bismuth in one of the Swallow's Inn's rooms. Door open, of course.

Bismuth dumped her cold misty water over Raiden's head, thoroughly rinsing the man's white hair of the bird's waste and into a dirty basin. The man spluttered.
"Hold still, 'master'," Bismuth muttered, sarcasm dripping like viscous honey off her words, "if you want to look your best, let my water clean you of outer blemishes," It's a pity I can't wash out any of the inside ones, her thoughts privately registered. Then, her hand clenched thin air, and she jerked. The water sluiced off Raiden's hair, withdrew itself from the soggy, diluted bird crap and drew up onto the back of her hand like a clear ball of crystal, leaving a dry, plaster-like material that caked the basin with a day's worth of dirt and one rather unpleasant whitewash. It was a rather effective way of cleaning, wasting nothing, and water - to Bismuth - was a precious item.

What happened next could've been the result of Raiden's automatic groping of every part of her body while she had tried to wake him up earlier that day. Or it could've been the constant lustful look in eyes that never left her breasts. The air wooshed out of his lungs like a balloon deflating, and it wasn't because Bismuth struck him, either. In fact, she didn't even bat an eyelid, let alone make a move, letting her elemental powers with the air and water do the work and removed the air from Raiden's lungs. Raiden staggered to a knee as he gasped for now non-existent air, to stare at the unearthly creature before him. The dragon woman towered imposingly over him, her draconic heritage surfacing slightly in her appearance. There was a moment where her mouth was a snout. She spoke. It came out in the metallic hiss of a deadly serpent.

"My name isss Bisssmuth. It would do well to remember that name, becausssse if you dare touch me like that with your filthy handsssss again, I will make sure you will NEVER catch your breath again. Undersssstand? I have other waysss of dealing with your kind without abusssing your manhood."

Air filled Raiden's lungs. When he managed to catch his breath again, Bismuth was downstairs at the bar, ordering a cup of wine.

OOC: Dante, you don't mind? If you do, I edit.

As Samoht and the man were discussing the price of Samoht's last 'job', the man's eyes trailed over to the bar, where the young draconic lady was ordering a tea.

"Hmm. Seems this town has something to offer after all."

Samoht took a quick look over to the bar, and gave a small chuckle.

"Don't even try it. She'd eat you without giving you a second look."

The man smiled broadly.

"Well, that was kind of the plan..."

Samoht reached out and smacked the man in the head.

"Don't be perverted. Besides, she's not your type. Your type stands at a corner until you meet them with a couple of coins in your pocket. Speaking of coins, I still expect quite a few after my work. And maybe a nice retirement package."

The man reached to his hip, and pulled a small bag off his belt.

"Here. 200 gold coins, and a bar of Dwarven White Gold."

Samoht quickly took his pay and slipped it under his cloak, hidden away within the folds of the dark cloth. He then looked toward the door. There were still bright beams of sunlight shooting through the cracks of the worn wood.

"Blasted sun. I've got no quarrel with it, but when it's this bright out, I think it's got something against me."

The man got up from the table.

"I'll get us a few drinks. We'll celebrate a good job tonight, and maybe find some women to celebrate with us."

Samoht shook his head.

"No women for me. I'll take the free drink, though."

The man sighed. He whispered so that only those with high hearing could here, and even then, not very well.

"It's been a long time, Samoht. Sarai was killed a long, long time ago. It has to be...10 years. Remember, she was my sister, and I've accepted her death. Why can't you?"

Samoht took his hood, and lifted it up to cover his head. He was gaining a few stares that he didn't like.

"Acceptance. The gift of acceptance from someone, completely and utterly, is not an easy thing to give up."

Kale noticed that the Dark Elf was uncomfortable with the light. Kale lifted a hand towards the drapes, and pulled them shut. Then he noted that his seat was in the shadow, where the DE would undoubtedly be more comfortable.

He crossed the room and tapped the Dark Elf on the shoulder.

"Sir, if you would like you can take my seat. It's far darker over there, and you would benefit from it more than me."

Relik had been watching the series of events unfolding outside of the antique tent. He was amazed at how al of these colorful people managed to meet up in this little town. Once they all left, the treasure hunter finished recording and drawing his findings.

Before getting up, Relik put his Icy Lens back on, which he had taken off so he could draw it correctly. He wanted to try it out a little more.

On his way to the Swallow's Inn, the small towns only inn that doubled as a pub, Relik could see a couple of bright lights, and smaller ones, through the walls. He turned it off for now. Once he got to his room, which he all ready paid for, Relik would test the lens to see if he could weaken it's vision.

Inside the pub part of the inn, Relik made an announcement.

"I will give five gold pieces to anyone that can identify this ring!" Relik held up the ring he found at the antique shop. "If you lie, I'll know it, and you won't get any gold." Relik grew up learning about artifacts, he can easily tell when some one lies.

After that, he took a seat at a nearby empty table, put his staff and book down on the table, asked a nearby barmaid for some water. Some idiots planning to lie where all ready approaching Relik, hoping to trick him.


OOC: If some one wants to identify the ring, go ahead. I have no plans for it, and it's only a minor find I decide to give my character, so I don't really care what it does.

Samoht looked at the man who tapped him on the shoulder, and simply gave him a stare.

"I'll be alright. I don't intend to be here much longer anyway."

Then he heard the strange recorder yelling about some kind of ring. Samoht's old brother-in-law came back to the table, and set two ales down.

"Say Samoht, why don't you go take a look at the bauble. You're pretty well versed in artifacts."

"Nah. It'd be a waste of my time. Unless you want to make a bet on it..."

"What? You cleaned me out with drinks and payment!"

"Don't lie to me. I can hear the clinking of platinum cubes in your pocket. You're holding out on me."

The man sighed.

"Fine. Two platinum squares says that you can't identify the ring."

"Deal."

Samoht got up from his seat, and walked toward the man with the ring. He could hear the other fools trying to guess at the nature of the ring. Maybe it could turn lead to gold? Maybe it could make you fly? All were turned away as the researcher slapped down their lies and guesses. Samoht reached down and picked up the ring, looking it over. He recognized the design almost immediately.

"Syari the Jewelsmith was legendary in his part of the world. He could take the simplest gem and turn it into a work of art. Both nobles and peasants alike were mystified by his gift. One day, a hermit mage that lived deep within the Far Mountains approaced Syari with a great chance. The chance to make a masterpiece of his work. Using his skill with creating fine jewelry, and the mage's magic of enchantments, they created the Warlock's Decorations. It consisted of a necklace, a circlet, a bracelet, and most importantly of all, a ring, all of which were enchanted with special gifts. The ring was enchanted with the power of Sixth Sense. When something bad is about to happen to the wearer, the ring will glow a slight green light and hum out a whistle. The louder the whistle, the worse the danger. I should remember it. I was assigned to...eliminate the hermit mage, and recover the Warlock's Decorations. I passed them off to an employer. How it got here, without the rest of the set, is beyond me. I'd recommend that you put it on. Your boasts have gathered the attention of a few unsavory types."

Samoht eyed a few of the men in the back of the pub. They were looking at the researcher with a little TOO much interest.