Shadows Within

Horde FTW: The next one will, I promise!

AzureBonds: I do my best. Thanks!

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Shyla sat at the corner table, taking small sips from her glass of Darkmoon Special Reserve, one of the few drinks that she was willing to indulge herself with. Of course, she had to be very, very careful about drinking too much. She's downed a whole glass at once before, just to prove someone that she could, and... well, the trolless wasn't terribly eager to repeat that situation.
Besides, she needed her senses intact right now, which was why she had watered it down before hand.
Their new acquaintance, Juna, was socializing with most anyone who entered the inn, as she had been for a few hours past. That alone wasn't enough to get the shaman suspicious.

No... what was getting her suspicious was the way she acted, and how everyone else was reacting. The orc was being particularly talkative with anyone who sat near her, and while Shyla didn't hear what was being said, there was something about the way she looked at people that made her think twice.
And when they stood to leave, there was always that one passing glance back to her; one that she returned every time.
But the biggest thing was the way Fronai and Rajas were acting. While the warrior was only slightly more tense than his usual self, her brother was being almost cordial to her. If there was one thing that Shyla was always sure of, it was the mage's temper; you had to earn his respect.

Yet, there she was, being her calm and garrulous self, occasionally exchanging a few sentences with the troll, and never getting an irate glare.
The shaman took another sip from her mug. It worried her.

A chair beside her slid out, and Kalderin sat down with a mug of his own, running a hand through his unkempt hair. The late afternoon light filtered past the windows, giving the entire room a radiant and beautiful orange glow.
"Did I miss anything interesting?" he asked, looking around.
The trolless shook her head. "Jus' watchin'."
The rogue took a drink from his mug in silent agreement, the soft scent of honeyed mead wafted from his cup.

"Choo tink deah's sometin weird abou't her, mon?" the woman asked in a quiet voice.
He set his mug down lightly, not speaking for a moment. "I'm worried about what we don't know about her," he said, tapping the wooden table idly.
"Dat's de pro'lom, mon," Shyla told him. "We don' know anyting abou't her."
"I know," he replied, taking another sip. "We'll just have to see what they have to say later," the human reasoned, giving a half-felt point towards where Fronai and Rajas sat.

Shyla arced an eyebrow at the young rogue. "C'hoo tink dea'h jus' spill i' out to ya?" she asked, her voice guarded and skeptical.
"Fronai would," Kalderin answered. "He won't have much of a reason not to. Besides," he said, standing up, "I think he'd be happy to make her feel at ease by passing on a bit of personal information."
The trolless caught a glint of something in his shining blue eyes, but it was gone the moment she saw it.

"Kalderin!" Juna said, walking over to them.
The Human turned to face her, his expression neutral. "Yes?"
"I never had a chance to thank you for earlier," she said, smiling. "Most people wouldn't have done something like that."
"Most people wouldn't have been crazy enough," he countered with relative ease. "Just a lucky break for you, really."
"Well, lucky or not, I still appreciate it," she told him. "It's nice, having somebody watch out for me for once."
The rogue nodded. "Being alone makes you that much more thankful for good company," he mused.
"Isn't that the truth," she agreed. "Well, I'll leave you two alone, then. Thanks again, Kalderin."

He held up his hands in a "no problem" sort of gesture, and she turned, hurrying back to the bar. The human kept a light smile on his face as Shyla followed him back to the stairs.
Once he had begun to climb, however, it melted away into a semi-hostile glance that he quickly turned away from anyone who might be watching.
"I hate being buttered up," he said, just loud enough for the shaman to hear.
She wanted to ask something pertinent and specific, but all that came out was "Huh?"

He looked back at her at the top of the steps, and broke into a smirk. "She's trying to gain face with me," he explained. "And it's obvious that she knows what she's doing."
"How'd c'hoo know?" Shyla asked, following him to his door.
"She was playing up my abilities, my heroism," he told her. "Now, I'm well aware that I did a selfless thing back there, but the way she pointed it out..."
The trolless waited as he trailed off, grasping for the right words.
"... it was subtle, but there was something about them. Your typical 'scared orc woman' would have been more reserved about it. Especially around me," he added.

"But, I'll worry about that later," he said, waiving his hand in idle sweeps. "Feel like trying to learn something?"
The shaman's face perked up immediately. "Choo ready a'ready?" she asked, amazed.
Kalderin shrugged. "Not like I've much else to do at the moment, so, yeah."
"Ah we goin' in your room, den?"
"Unless you'd prefer we go into yours."

Shyla gulped. "Nah, da's fine, mon. Gimme a minute ta change, okay?" she requested.
"Sure thing," he said, walking inside. "I need to check my bandages anyway."
"Five minutes," she said as he closed the door.
As soon as the wood settled, a furious blush spread across her face. Wrong ting for choo to tell me, mon, she thought as she walked down the hall.
Or... was it the right thing? Weather the human knew it or not, he was saying just the right words to...
She shut the door to her room and checked herself, quickly cursing her luck. This was the worst time for that to happen.

Kalderin busied himself, trying to find something to help him in his task. An old book from a raid, personal notes, just something written in Common. The rogue had a knack for languages, but he'd never taught anyone else.
Well, that was about to change. He'd told the trolless he would teach her, and by the gods, he would. The how was going to be tricky, though.
He spent a few minutes cataloging most of the things in the sparsely furnished room, scratching the words out on a piece of parchment, his mindset bouncing between languages in a blur as the quill moved. He didn't know what was taking her so long, but he saw it as a bit of a blessing; it gave the human time to prepare.

All of her gear was heaped into a pile beside the bed, her undergarments tossed on the covers without regard for where they landed. Her fingers moved in quick vertical strokes, rubbing against the highly sensitive cluster of flesh and nerves with pressing urgency.
The shaman's dilemma was thus: keep the young man waiting while she "cleared her thoughts," or go in with unquenched arousal, which would hamper her attentiveness. And she'd still have to take care of it later.
In her mind, this was the lesser of two evils.

Her climax came quickly and lasted only moments, much to her secret relief. If the situation hadn't called for her expedience, Shyla would have gladly made it last as long as possible. Still, it took a rather large weight from her mind, which was a blessing in itself.
Tying her underwear back on, the trolless moved to her bags and pulled out her "casual" clothes: a pair of emerald green silk pants that flared out near the bottom, and a sleeveless shirt, silk as well, dyed an earthen brown. Tugging the fabric down to its usual length, it flowed past her waist, ending just above the hips.
After a moment of considering, she decided to remove her topknot, running a lacquered bone comb through her tresses to straighten them out. With a plain pair of leather sandals to protect her feet, she opened the door with a smile.

Kalderin sighed, setting the quill down and rubbing the bridge of his nose. That should do it, he thought, looking at the list with a fraction of pride. Sure, it was crude and basic, but it would work.
No sooner than he had finished the thought, the wound on his chest growled in protest. The human chided himself, realizing that he had been so preoccupied with his work that he forgot to change the bandages again.
He had already removed the leather armor in the somewhat uncomfortable heat, leaving him in his brown linens and the swashbuckler's shirt he always wore. Peeling the fabric from his chest, he looked down at the strip of silk wrapping his torso. A bit of blood was seeping through, more than enough reason to change it.

In the midst of unwrapping the cloth, a soft set of knuckles rapped at his door. "Who goes?" he asked, pulling a sheet close to his chest in reflex.
"Oh, nobodeh im'portant," Shyla replied, her amused grin floating through the door with her voice.
The rogue stood in the door's shadow as it opened, covering his body, and shut it with a single quiet motion. His eyes scanned the trolless for a moment, the barest hint of surprise creeping into the glowing blue orbs before he snapped them back to a normal state.
"Nice outfit," Kalderin told her, inclining his head to meet her gaze.
The Trolless smirked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Tanks, mon," she responded.

Her eyes followed him as he rolled the soiled bandages into a heap and tossed them aside, gazing at the black lines on his flesh. They traced the length of his spine, disappearing below the waistband of his pants, and forked off like lightning, scattering here and there over the skin, but it wasn't as cluttered as his chest.
Another layer of silk went on, the Human's digits tying the cloth down taut, and he snatched his shirt up with haste. Kalderin pulled it over his head, smoothing a few wrinkles out while he turned back to her. Shyla shifted her eyes away a little when he moved, hoping that the rogue didn't notice. If he did, he never showed it.
Or, maybe he didn't mind...

He swept his hand to the table, offering her a chair. He then pulled the other out for himself, dragging it beside her and moving the leaf of parchment so that they could both see it.
"Okay," he told her, "let's start with the basics."

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Eleam sighed, resting her chin on her knees and staring blankly at the campfire. A deliberate rustle behind her caught her attention, but she didn't turn her head.
"Still awake?" the rogue asked, concerned.
The gnome glanced over at him, but chose not to answer; the glum expression she knew she wore spoke volumes.
The human sat beside her, pulling the wide-brimmed hat from his head and setting it in front of him. Silence stretched the air between them, until the larger figure decided to speak. "We'll find him," he said.
"I'm not worried about Kalderin right now," she muttered.
A knowing glint shined in the rogue's eye. "I know."

The warrior shook her head slowly, sighing. "You don't have to," she told him.
"I know," he replied, looking over at her, "but I want to. I know what it's like to lose a friend."
Eleam's eyes drooped. "Not like this," she croaked.
"Perhas, perhaps not. But I can tell that it's tearing you up, Eleam," he put forth with a gentle voice. "I won't let myself stand idle if something can be done about it."
The gnome managed to give him a sad smile. "Thanks, Raxis. Really."


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