Today I wwrite about a most perplexing event that has occurred to myself these past feww wweeks. WWhile at dock for repairs from my latest battle with the accursed Marquise, I stumbled into a lowwblood tavvern in order to drink my sorrowws awway.

It wwas there I sat in the corner by myself, as I so often do, when a sortie of trolls entered. I knoww this sounds like the start of a terrible joke, but a mustardblood, an olivveblood, what originally looked like a rustblood, and a jadeblood wwalk into a bar…

The twwo men begin to get smashed on wwhatever swwill the lowwblood running this place calls beer. WWhat perplexes me the most are the twwo wwomen. An olivveblood wearing clothing not shredded and wwith polite, civvil manners? A jadeblood not in the cavverns and no virgin mother grub as an excuse?

Naturally those twwo dreww my attention to the twwo vvery drunk men… the mustardblood looked to be a vvery powwerful psionic if he had a mutation. WWhy was he a freetroll? And the nubby horned one in particular was… off.

His eyes were too bright of red to be rust.

A vvague memory of the Empress's court and some lowwblood not on the hemospectrum running about causing secular troubles wwherever he could. Rumored to travvel with a group of unlikely lowwbloods, well…

Not that hard to put the pieces together.

I thusly had these trolls dead to right. Despite my casual wwear, I had my rifle still. I'm impressed at their brazen attitude, frankly. I, a sea dwweller, sitting in the corner as they make asses of themselvves. I briefly think of the prestige I might get from bringing in the most wwanted group of individuals this side of the empire.

Hell. The Empress might remember my name if I do. That'd be a start on my evverlasting and foolish endeavvor to get her as some quadrant.

But I digress. Before I could really decide one wway or the other, the mutant was dragged awway by his domesticated olivve and mustardblood friend. This left the elegant and refine jadeblood to sit at the bar alone.

She was rather striking for a lowwblood. Evven the Marquise wwould be jealous of her beauty. I contemplated striding on ovver to speak with her… arrest or wwooing, I wwondered to myself…

Once more my indecisiveness has cost me something. Some dirtblood movved on ovver to her and attempted to put his hand on her.

Attempted.

I didn't quite see it, but it seemed as though she glowwed for the briefest of seconds as his head slammed into the bar. She paid him no mind after that and simply ordered another drink. The other lowwblood slunk away and I looked to my own food and drink, noww both dreadfully ruined by the temperature (fortuitous that I did not eat this muck to begin with!) and thus I needed more.

I movved to the bar and sat dowwn at it, ignoring the jade entirely. I'd rather not gain another scar from her disinterest. I sense her unease as a sea dwweller of my stature remains next to her. Yes, jade, you and I both knoww howw many lawws you are breaking. WWill I turn you in, you wwonder? Or wwill I demand something to keep me silent?

Neither, my dear, I am a gentleman first and an Orphaner second. I strike up casual convversation wwith her first. Remarks about her sortie and she replies they are a travveling troupe, she demonstrates her ability of being one of those accursed rainboww drinkers. That explains the gloww, but this doesn't frighten me.

It only entices me further.

I make a feww bumbling statements and she dominates the convversation. She no longer showws disinterest, she's enjoying watching me make a fool of myself. I cannot help but be drawn to her skin, flawwless and obviously incandescent…

The subtle ways her dress movves against her skin, hinting at a mystery yet unsolvved. She notices my scars and tells me she has a feww of her owwn, but she says it wwith a smirk as though to say they are in rather private areas that the public may nevver see. Her wwonderful lips curvve into a smirk as I am rather dumbstruck.

She stands up and pats my back, telling me to pay for her drinks and that she'll return tomorroww for another round. Evven as her rainboww drinker gloww fades, the romantic in me wwould argue she still does.

A wweek passes wwith the same routine as wwe get to knoww each other. I've missed a court appointment as wwell as a meeting with the Marquise. My ships are all repaired and yet I remain here wwith her.

I havve tried to invvite her back to my ship for a more privvate meeting. Finer wwine, better food and the like… she alwwways refused me until tonight.

So here I wwrite my thoughts as I awwait her arrivval to my ship. WWether or not she and I enter a flushed relationship as I so hope we do (despite her loww birth, her elegance and charm put the empress's mongrel wways to shame!), I wwill be content wwith havving been so close to her.

Ah, a knock at my door. I wwill wwrite my thoughts dowwn as they come in the morning. For noww, I must see howw much she glowws in the privacy of my cabin.