Anomen's first experience with Aenwyn was across the smoky common room of the Copper Coronet, where he worked on his fourth cup that afternoon. A commotion roused his attention from the main entrance in time for him to see two people stagger through the crowd and collapse at the bar. Both appeared filthy and bore signs of battle; matted hair and dried blood became second skin. Even from his distance Anomen could tell there was something off about the pair. A sense of unease when the eye lingered on them for too long, a prickling of hair which increased as you neared. Yet approach he did, an act he would later confess complete confusion toward; he could claim his instincts as a priest moved him to tend the less fortunate, though there most in the Coronet had fallen on bad times and his eye grazed over their heads without a second thought.

No, he couldn't say how or why he came to stand behind Aenwyn, only that his life would alter forever once she turned and he found himself locked into black pools staring out of an impassionate pale face. Those pits took in all light without reflecting anything back and for a moment Anomen felt a chill squeeze his chest.

The man standing beside Aenwyn, forgotten, made a move and Anomen's gaze was broken. Next to Aenwyn the man was almost normal, despite the pointed ears and blue hair. "We seek no trouble, noble hound," the man intoned; his voice echoed in Anomen's head, sounding a distant whisper next to his ear. "Two poor travellers can surely go unnoticed in such a place, yes?"

"I came to see if you are all right. I am a priest, perhaps I can help." Anomen kept his eyes on the man, fearing to look back at the woman. His words were for the woman, however, as were his questions and thoughts. "You look in need of assistance."

"Come." It was a command, spoken so coolly that they could have known each other intimately. Or else had the tone of master to servant, without a doubt of authority. More likely the latter, though already Anomen felt she knew more about him than he would care to admit.

She walked up the stairs and he followed, the man trailing them as they entered the nicest suite the inn had to give, consisting of several beds and a tin bath, with a window opening to the squalor of the slums surrounding them.

It was in this room that Anomen learned her name, learned that of her companion, the swordsman Haer'Dalis, and how they had come to this place. Tales of an escape from a mad wizard's lab sounded more likely stolen from a storybook, but evidence of trauma and struggle was clear enough on both of their faces, not to speak of their bodies. Neither said why they had been captured by the wizard in the first place, though judging from their appearances Anomen didn't doubt that many magic users would be interested in studying the pair. All that he could learn from them was that they had found each other in captivity and made their way to the city, although they weren't certain how long before the wizard returned to find them.

Anomen returned to the bar to think over this news while the former prisoners washed away captivity. If he could believe their tale, then there was a potentially dangerous mage on the loose in the city. The city guard should be alerted or the Cowled Wizards; he considered going to the Order of the Most Radiant Heart to report on this but decided more to obtain more information before alerting too many ears to such tales. His new friends' story could be just that: a story. It certainly held elements of the melodramatic to it. And neither of them was eager to explain why they were held captive in the first place. Too much mystery and half-truths surrounded the pair for him to place any reliability in them; he would have to accompany them to discover more.

He was still under surveillance by the Order, a probationary period until full membership. Echoes of his drunken father rippled through him despite his best efforts, so that nothing he did in the name of Right and Justice came out untainted. It was all show, all to prove himself Good in their eyes. None of his actions were altruistic, it seemed; his indelible legacy returning day after night after day. Memories of passion and rage within the narrow confines of peace and order bubbled up unwillingly and he suppressed them with a deep swallow from his cup.

Anomen ignored the small voice inside that laughed as the drink flowed in. Her eyes were behind that laugh, resonating within the dark corners of his mind. He finished and ordered another drink to drown out the laughter. But the eyes remained.

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Aerie put the pen down and rubbed her eyes. The candle light was barely enough to read by and if she made a mistake in the books there would be hell to pay. It was late enough, at any rate, and she could finish in the morning before her chores. She always liked to wake up before dawn and watch the sun rise; it reminded her of home, before the circus, and it was the one time during the day she could be alone with her thoughts. Except for at night, when the darkness took her thoughts on dark paths she'd rather not examine in the day's light.

Her back ached as she lay on her cot but it was an old pain, so that she would have found it strange had it been absent; two lumps pressed into the scratchy sheet to ensure she never forgot. Not that she would. Or could. Perhaps her dreams would be kind tonight, perhaps she wouldn't dream of flying. That wasn't likely, though. Open skies taunted most nights, achingly beautiful until faced with the drudgery of waking life. Still, in that predawn glow Aerie could almost imagine herself with restored wings soaring away from all this trouble, away from the pain and hurt of living on the ground amidst these slaves and monsters. Someday she would find a way; she promised herself this every night as the lumps dug into her bed.

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Haer'Dalis stood within a cage, the bars tangible darkness harder than any iron. It seemed he was always to remain a prisoner; fitting, given that life was a cage which no one could escape, least of all he. Black blood roiled on the surface of the bars and he could almost see his raven's dark eyes staring out at him.

For raven was what he decided Aenwyn was; while the noble hound baying at their heels tried to follow his false ideals the strange woman tread her own path and did not shy away from death. Here was one who caused chaos wherever she went. Normally he would embrace such entropy, but now the bars closed around him and threatened to blanket him with darkness, a darkness he would not emerge from. He was not certain he was ready to abandon all hope of colour and vibrancy yet. But would he have a choice when the time came?

The raven pulled all in her wake, willing or no, and he had never been one to resist the lure of power.

His breath struggled out of squeezed lungs as the bars drew closer and closer. Blood sizzled and spit from their perch and his own blood throbbed in response. Soon their bloods would mingle and then the real test would begin.
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A dark form walked quickly through the crowd trying hard not to look back at the crowd forming. A deep cowl covered much of its face and long gloves extended into the cloak. An errant breeze tugged at a lock of pure white hair which had escaped the confines of the hood.

Drow. Enemy. Murderer.

Words the hooded form had become accustomed to since arriving on the surface. Nowhere a friendly face despite desperate situations, no hope of a night spent sleeping soundly instead of waking fitfully at the slightest sound. Escape from the drow world had been dangerous enough but surviving on the surface had turned out to be the greater challenge. How could such a people claim such hatred of those below when there was just as much pain and cruelty amongst surface-dwellers? The stars in the terrible empty sky made more sense than these people, yet there was no choice but to take them as constant neighbours.

The figure reflected that one can truly be more alone in a crowd than when by oneself. It had never felt the agony of despair more than when first gazing upon the blinding sun.

The sun's beams dazzled now as the drow pushed past people. It had wanted to buy some provisions before retreating to the city outskirts but pickpockets had taken its money, leaving it with no other option than to mimic and hide its goods within the cloak's expansive folds.

A rough hand clamped down on a gloved wrist while an equally rough voice shouted thief! and guards! More jostling took place, during which the hood, the final refuge and tenuous safety in a foreign world, tumbled down and betrayed the drow.

Drow! Enemy! Murderer!

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Valygar breathed deeply, enjoying the fresh air after so many months in the city's claustrophobic confines. His summer cabin had seen better days but repairs would give him something to do while he waited out his pursuers. He could only hope that this area was secluded enough to evade the wizards' probing eyes; their reach was long but not ubiquitous.

The ranger had never wanted anything to do with those foul wizards, had evaded their influence throughout his life. But now they were forcing this standoff which left him alone in the furthest reaches of the country, surrounded by dark woods on all sides. A fitting place for one of his family.

He was better off alone, he reasoned. No need to place others in danger because of his…heritage. His only regret was that he couldn't eliminate the last surviving member before his own lonely death; death would be welcome if his ancestor and his damnable sphere would leave forever. No hope of that now that the wizards were after him, though.

He smirked at his fatalistic turn of mind. Ironically, this could be a chance to end everything, he thought. Use the wizards to confront Lavok and then…and then? Death was not something to run to even with his history, but life wasn't something he had any particular fondness for, either.

One step at a time. Figure out how to return to the city and the sphere before capture by the wizards and once that task was accomplished there would be time to worry over the future. Plenty of time to plan when there was no soul within miles. Valygar suppressed the loneliness with surprise; it had been some time since he had allowed himself to even acknowledge its presence. Solitude had become a companion to him when there was no one else. Why should he now begrudge its presence?

Rain pelted the windows of the cabin as the light dimmed and evening set in. The first of many nights for Valygar Corthala to be alone with his thoughts.