RP:Unwanted Houseguests - Finding Fadje

From HollowWiki


This is part of the Unlife's a Bitch story arc.

Following the Orc Vampiress Fadje's assault on Mahri in Cenril, members of the Lycaness' Pack get together and make plans to balance out the ledger.

Mahri's Tower, in the Fog Forest - The Pack Gathers

Leoxander would be found outside - he hadn't come inside more than once and that was upon Mahri's initial arrival. Caedan was likely out there somewhere, too, but if not, he'd made certain to steal one of her cigarettes for the contemplative wait. His breath already fogged warm in that cold forest air, thicker each time he exhaled a plume of smoke. He couldn't bring himself to sit or settle but afforded a slight lean against the wall, a short distance from the door, watching the scene ahead but seeing much further past it, with his thoughts. Patience had always been his most struggled for virtue.

Jolie slipped from the tower silently, the door closed with the faintest tick of timber and metal she could manage. Mother and babe slept, a blessing for both at present. The necromancer’s features still wore that very terse look, as though it had become the default for her these days. Far from the truth, but the past few days had indeed been trial and tribulation, and to come to this… Her gaze lifted, Jolie knowing the Alpha was there. “Leo.” That short greeting given, she found a seat on a step and exhaled heavily. “She’s blind. Blind.” As if she still could not quite believe it.

Leoxander turned a look through the hair in his eyes toward the door as it opened, and he left it there on her until she sat down, no verbal greeting offered but a slight lift of his jaw given. He took another drag while she spoke of that new burden on Mahri's shoulders, and gave a slight nod with his gaze drifting back toward the forest. "She's alive..." He countered, reminder her it could be a lot worse. Lan'teus could be without his mother, that young in the start of his life. The rest of what he had to smoke was tossed toward the wet ground, and he exhaled the rest of that cloudy breath. He hadn't tried or bothered to sleep the night prior, and remained armoured and dressed for a fight, blades concealed and visible among his leather clad frame.

Jolie had come straight from her foray into the Underdark, and was similarly dressed in leathers reinforced with thin steel bands and the duergar blade, black as her hair, was still sheathed but not at her side presently. Elbows on her knees, she clasped one gloved fist into the opposite hand and squeezed. “Yes.” She nodded, acknowledging what the Alpha had said, and took comfort from it, whether it had been meant so or not. She’d lapse into silence, at least knowing Leoxander was comfortable enough with that not to mind it for a while, her gaze dropping to the yard, a fallen leaf, a twig, anything but the thorn in her mind. At length, it had to be said: “I should have killed the orc. Days ago, after she shot me.” Wounded or not, she should have tried. Instead of gallivanting off. “Should have lopped her blasted head off when she sat in my tavern with a mangled arm. I could have prevented this.” Peridot eyes lifted. No matter she found his looking her way or into some more comfortable distance, she still kept on her own on the Alpha. “I need to be there, when she dies. I want that head, on a pike.”

Leoxander kept that distance from her scent and presence, but he remained on the other side of that door, hardly leaning, ready to defend. He was quiet, the whole time she spoke her guilt, and his own jaw - fairly clean shaven with maybe a day of growth, tightened and defined at the edges to reveal some frustration. She should have, his eyes agreed, but he would not rub her face in it any more than she was doing on her own. "She's already dead, and I don't mean in the bloody sense she's a vampire. But you should have told me about her when she first hit. I may not be your lover, Jolie, but I've covered your ass a long time in this world and I don't intend to stop. You'd damn well be dead, stubborn as you are." This last mutter could so easily be taken as an insult, but he really didn't mean anything rude by his words. He still wore that thorn ink on his wrist, like she had on her arm. He was still cabal, and in a way, her soldier in the shadows.

Perhaps those few words, gruff as they were and blunt as hammers, nevertheless had smashed through a very tough shell the sineater had grown about herself during the past several months. And maybe he’d think he struck one of those many dead nerves with his words, when her face turned from the rogue’s abruptly. But it was more the assurance he gave, than any of those daggering truths. “I looked,” was all she said. Not too hard, and not on the hill he’d told to her to stay away from. At least she’d been obliging to that degree, if not the part about himself. And blinking the moment away, found her voice again, turning back. “My ass is fine. But thanks.” She glanced back to the door. “I’ll stay a few days. Make sure she gets her own stubborn behind back to the clinic.”

Leoxander turned a look through the hair in his eyes toward the door as it opened, and he left it there on her until she sat down, no verbal greeting offered but a slight lift of his jaw given. He took another drag while she spoke of that new burden on Mahri's shoulders, and gave a slight nod with his gaze drifting back toward the forest. "She's alive..." He countered, reminding her it could be a lot worse. Lan'teus could be without his mother, that young in the start of his life. The rest of what he had to smoke was tossed toward the wet ground, and he exhaled the rest of that cloudy breath. He hadn't tried or bothered to sleep the night prior, and remained armoured and dressed for a fight, blades concealed and visible among his leather clad frame.

Jolie nodded. She had a way of getting about quickly, these days if needed. Even if it was one Leo had always found less than .. appealing. "If I'm not required. I'll stay."

Keturah was back to where she could walk through forests without losing herself to the thrum of Divine flowing around her. It had not taken her too long to find the Tower; though she still.. had that distracted look about her as head tilted up to the structure. It was not at all caused by her magic, either. Wrinkling her nose, the druidess dropped her attention down to the path ahead. She would have been noticed a while before she'd realized Leo and Jolie were there, more than likely- if not by scent than the sound or sight of her attempting to carefully navigate booted feet over the brambles that littered the forest floor. But she'd eventually find and focus on the two, dark gaze flickering from Jolie to Leo as she slowed to a stop. She didn't say anything yet, anyway. So as not to interrupt that meeting.

Leoxander had fallen quiet by the time Keturah stepped into view, and for a moment it might very well seem like two (or at least one) very still wolf watching her in the dark, his image a silhouette due to the tower lights behind them. But a step away from the wall and a motion would silently beckon her to approach the rest of the way, with a soft murmur to Jolie on Mahri's behalf. "Lotus might be able to do something about her vision... if she hasn't tried already." He had seen Keturah at the clinic but he was unaware how and what had been accomplished before the rogue had stolen her patient. "She wanted out of there, Ket." This was explained in case she was considering him a bastard for doing so.

Jolie's sword sensed the druid before she did. It hummed quietly in its sheath, its strap slung over the corner of a chair inside. Jolie didn't hear it, even from her seat on the stair not far from the door, but she somehow felt it and would glance up, expectant - and a little fearful, in memory of the last time she'd had that sense. But then her nose caught the cause, and she relaxed. At least, as far as able.

Jolie said to Keturah, "I'll drag her back, if I have to."

Leoxander shook his head at Jolie, "She's just gonna have a fit unless she's somewhere she's comfortable. You know her better'n me."

Jolie had to admit he was right, but didn't like it. She snorted. "Stubborn." Pot. Kettle. Etc.

Leoxander almost breathed a laugh, looking back toward Keturah.

Keturah had interrupted anyway, and there may have been an apologetic twinge to her expression before she offered that more neutral curve of a smile. "Patients.. run away from my clinic all the time.." She said, as if that particular comment was needed. "Am understanding." Her hands folded in front of her, and she'd tap one pinching shoe restlessly against her heel before asking, "How is she? No magic.. right now. There isn't much I can do aside from herbs and bandaging."

Keturah scrunched her nose, briefly. "I can make the trip here.. no need for the clinic, if she is not wanting."

Jolie might've bitten the inside of her cheek at the healer's comment regarding patients running... She secretly could not blame Mahri. The clinic freaked her out, the smells, the scent of sickness. She glanced to Keturah, almost guilty in the way she did so. "She's sleeping. And Lan, too." As to how Mahri was, she couldn't know. Her sister had remained in a deep slumber for some time now. So her shoulders lifted and dropped. "She was still blind, last I saw her awake."

Keturah nodded, slowly. "Chal.." Blindness. Her fingers might have squeezed a little more tightly together, at that, and gaze flickered toward the door of the Tower pensively. "I can be seeing to her, when she wakes up."

Leoxander noticed the distance and the frequent scrunching of nose, and he could read her body language as easily as if she'd explained how she felt, standing there. After Jolie spoke, he added a few pointless words. "She's... herself, more or less. Just need to find some way to fix her sight." Which sounded like it would take time, but Leo had never tasted that sting of silver, save the small chain he wore purposefully around his neck and built his tolerance with, daily. Now adorned with an elven signet and a Larket coat button. He didn't develop any rashes around his throat from it, anymore, but this didn't clue him in at all on what to do to cure a reaction as bad as this. A hand rose up out of tense habit to rub over a bruise on his neck, over the back, and he looked toward the closed door once before he announced. "I can't stand around here all day, so if there's anything you lot need for her, tell me now. I'll bring it back with your orc head." A nod toward Jolie for this, if she didn't end up taking it for herself.

Jolie said a short word of thanks to Keturah, grateful for her willingness to travel here to se to Mahri. If that chain Leo wore was visible, maybe she'd stare at that a moment, before that too-sharp gaze lifted to his. "Just your word you'll goddamn not leave me behind." As much she thought his word was worth, these days. She asked anyway. Perhaps there'd be some kind of redemption. "I want that... her. I want her to suffer, and I want to see it with my own eyes." Then the kettle... no way was she the pot... tilted her jaw in a manner Leo would know very well.

Keturah didn't have much experience with silver. She knew she could clear it from blood, replenish what vitae was lost, but as to the effects.. she would ask about. Read books. She could heal it, with time, maybe. But she was quiet, then, dark stare shifting between the two before finally resting somewhere in the middle distance between them. She was quiet, but that healer's smile had not slipped.

Leoxander guessed what she was asking. The body delivered whole, alive, to be executed. Although this made his job twice as difficult, he knew immediately that it was right. The pack, Cabal, and the web of bonds between, would make it clear what happened to the people who rose a hand against them. That was how it had always been. "Right." Was the word he gave, never one to actually promise. He may have disappointed many people in the past but someone had proclaimed truth when they'd reminded another that there wasn't a mark the rogue missed. He stepped down off the porch and paused at Keturah's side to speak to her, "I'ma send the mutt over to Tarun, in case you're out a while. It'll keep him busy. Not much I can do about Nic's wrath." A smirk touched his expression, and he nudged her with his upper arm, in that familiar, friendly way. "You stop by the shop yet, today?"

Jolie stood then, and turned for the door - there'd been a wince she couldn't mask to see the Alpha at ease in a way he never was with her, at all now. But it was fleeting, and she said nothing by way of farewell or excuse me's before she was in the door to claim that black blade and stalk the tower halls a while, in silence.

Later in Mahri's Tower

Jolie had stalked those halls, armed and brooding, for gods know how long now. Eventually she'd descend and take her former vigil by the door. Not really willing to look on the outside of it again, just now.

Mahri woke on the couch and opened her eyes to. Nothing. No surprise there. She was getting quite used to the waking-dark. There was a plethora of scents still lingering. Some fresher than others and Jolie's the strongest with a hint of..something. Frowning, the lycan sits up on her makeshift bed and pushes the tangle her hair's become out of her eyes. Mahri wonders why she bothered with a small smirk touching her lips. Jolie might hear the whisper of fabric as Mahri twisted on the seat and, using that greatly enhanced sense of smell, nearly pin-points Tenebrae's location. From a distance, the wolf's eyes appear to be coloured black except for a thin ring of silver circling the dilated pupils. "It's your turn to babysit now, eh?"

Jolie was absorbed in thought, deeply enough to cause to her jump a little at the sound of her sister’s voice. It had been days since she was able to relax even that far, the weariness of constant alertness in her voice, when she turned. “You’re going to trust me. To babysit.” It was almost humour. Almost. She crossed the room in a soft thud of boots – no ticking, her heels rightly left behind for thick rubber soles – and peered at Mahri. There weren’t any other words she could find for several breaths. Then: “I’m to have the orc’s head.” Odd way of putting it. But spoken as fact, comfort given in her own .. special.. way. The next one to be peered at was Lan. Babysit. Be lucky if she didn’t actually –sit- on him, poor kid.

Mahri tracked Jolie, if not by sight then sound, until Tenebrae stopped. Blinking, only because her eyes needed the moisture was needed, Mahri rises from the couch and walks to the bassinet in which Lan'teus was still sleeping. He'd have to be woken soon to be fed, but it could wait just a little longer. "I trust you more than the elf." Which is to say, she trusted her sister completely. "You should rest, Tene. Being so tired can't be helping you heal." Apparently she could still smell the tang of wounds still semi fresh. "Will you hang it over the door next to Skully?" The Orc's head and the thought had her grin as she reached for her son to touch him with the tips of her fingers. He stirred slightly when she touched the delicate curve of his ribs. It was all the assurance Mahri needed.

Jolie stopped herself from reaching out to guide Mahri's arm. She was moving independently, with surety, and a part of that hall-stalking brooding the necromancer had been doing was thinking ahead, to possibilities. One of those was that her ink-sibling may never regain use of her eyes. It was.. oddly right, to allow her no fuss, or offer of help at that exact moment. "And that fool Lasarus. For a trio of lessons learned." There was a chill edge to her voice, that Mahri might just recall from long ago. Tenebrae, indeed. "Leo said he'd send for me, when the hunt is on, so no rest for the Jolies, as they say." She added, in even more sere tone, "No babysitting, either. Not 'til we see to the orc."

Mahri 'll turn her head towards the sound of Jolie's voice and frown. She did remember Lasarus. Lips thinning, the beta dips her head once. She had, while no one had been around, taken the time to plot out where everything was in the tower. How many steps from any given point. On the ground floor anyway. Mahri wasn't yet ready to tackle the next two or three levels. "Everyone thinks it's the silver that blinded me. Jolie, the orc threw a vial of her own blood and some spattered into my eyes." Cripes, she's probably lucky all it did was blind her. "I've had silver poisoning. So have you. Never did it make me lose my sight even temporarily." Mahri felt the need to explain this, for some reason and as a warning of other tricks the orc has up her sleeves. "When Leo sends for you, Joles, be careful." Unerringly, the palm of Mahri's hand finds the curve of a tiny skull and she strokes that raven hair as though it were a comfort. "And can you ~please~ tell them to stop bloody hovering. I'll figure..things out." The statement, not quite as confident sounding as she'd have hoped, is accompanied by another furrow of the brows.

Jolie snorted. In it was the word, ‘stubborn’, unspoken. “Like hell I will.” She had noted Mahri’s advice regarding protection of their eyes, and had an idea already grinding its gears in the back of her mind. Along with other things. Most of which involved bonesaws. “I have to go to town, soon. Pick up a few things.” She recalled something, then, and patted her belt, below her cloak, feeling for the bulbous leather containers there. Two left. No time to get more, and she’d have to make them count. Stepping closer, so that she’d be presence near Mahri’s shoulder, she took another long look at her nephew. “Whatever happens, you know I’m always going to be there.” There was a cough. “Mainly, just to piss you off.”

Mahri said to Jolie, "Be. Careful. Or I'll damn well kill you myself. Get a bloody necromancer t' resurrect yer ass an make ye dead again." As far as threats went, a thread of humour laced the seriousness of it.Just like with Leoxander, Mahri had every confidence Jolie would do as she said. "Wish I was goin' with you on the hunt." Another worry rises but she pushes it aside to be brooded over later, when she could indulge in some self-pity in the privacy of her Tower. Not that privacy seemed to be in ample supply lately. "Stay in town long 's you like. We'll be fine." After a brief hesitation, Mahri reaches for Jolie and gives the woman a hug. It might be awkward a bit but it's brief anyway. "I know, now go on before you piss me off."

Jolie was stiff under that hug… might’ve been all those bloody bandages stifling her under her armour, or the painkillers wearing off. At any rate, Mahri would get a return hug, a little spiky, but genuine. Then she backed up. “I’m staying right here.” No need for the lycaness to see the tilt of her chin, the hard glint of green. “For as long as I like.” She did look toward the door, now. Those supplies would not be fetching themselves.

Mahri shrugs, hearing the stubbornness in Jolie's voice. She didn't need to see the chin-tilt to imagine it with an amused lilt to her own voice, "Suit yourself. But," she raises an index finger and a brow, "I am not going to sit here on my hands doing nothing." Okay, maybe she won't be wallowing in pity. Really, Mahri had indulged in that only once and that was years ago. If she was going to be a productive part of her pack, she was going to have to relearn a few things..like hunting without her eyes. "I'll need your help though."

Jolie said, "Nah. It'll be fun to watch you bump into things." Really, though, it was as well the necromancer's ink-kin did not have the eyes to see her expression at that point, for it was terrible and it was full of grief that she would not allow to touch the words she spoke. "We'll get by, Mahri. We always do. Lan, too." Her gloved fingers, still stained with the rust of old blood, reached into the crib to fluff the child's hair lightly. "All of us." There was a surety to that statement that perhaps Mahri would pick up, above and beyond reassurance. Hope, there is hope, it said, though Jolie herself had not allowed such a thought to possess her in a conscious way yet. "We'll need a cook," she added. Because everyone knows how bad she is at housekeeping.

Mahri picked up on it. That hope that Jolie herself might be aware of. "I can.." cook. She could have cooked and probably still could. Maybe, "..hire someone."

Keturah might have realized at some point on that path that she rather missed her satchel. Leo may have had to suffer through that and other idle conversation topics along the way, given Ket's newfound need to fill that quiet. She did pause at the porch, might have even opened the door first if it were unlocked, though that sheepish frown that had cut into her expression and the urging hand fluttering to rest against the rogue's back might have indicated how she had.. no idea where to go from there. The tower, she could get lost in. "You.. could just point me in the proper direction," she offered after a moment too long. "If you.. are having to go."

Jolie said to Mahri, "I could always bring mine." Fussy old bag, and the way she cooed over Lan. Reminded her of somebody. Jolie grinned, her first all day, and patted her sister's shoulder. "I've got to find the Alpha. He needs to know about the blood. And be prepared. I'll be back."

Leoxander heard voices within the tower long before he saw the distant flicker of lights or caught the scent of the lycanthrope housed within. But for the most part, he walked along quiet listening to Keturah's one sided conversation in her off-common but coherent way of words, his eyes only lifting toward that door when she hesitated and lost her train of random thought. A hand reached over her shoulder to push open the door the rest of the way while the other encouraged her at least a step inside, with him. He'd follow scent to Mahri, if they'd changed locations from before, and because he heard people awake he called low but loud. "Oy." Just to let them know they were there.

Mahri , Jolie and Lan were all still in the living room portion of the tower and Jolie had just said her 'I'll be back's. "Cook? Gods..she's worse at hoverin' than the whole lot o' ye put together," Mahri grumbles. Nostrils flair slightly when she first hears the door open then catches the scents of Alpha and Healer. "Huh. Maybe I should invest in cots or somethin'."

The necromancer was already turning toward the door when it opened. "Saved me the trouble," she said, possibly a cryptic thing unless Leo's ears were particularly sharp today. A nod to the healer, and Jolie said to Leo, "I need to speak with you. Preferably at the shop."

Arien lifted her head to the sound of that familiar voice just up ahead, and a faint smile curve her lips. Ket had found them then. The elf shifted the small duffle bag that was set over her shoulder now, filled with those things that she might need if she was going to have to remain any length of time at that tower. And if not, they wouldn't go astray at the den. It was past time her room held something more than a skin for her four legged body anyway. She had spent the night in a semi restless drowse that found her waking to watch the lycaness for spells, once Jolie had made her departure the prior evening, and only when that first filter of bodies visiting the injured wolf had begun to arrive with the morning, had she slipped away almost unnoticed to see to her own comforts and to gather those supplies. She would make her arrival just as those bodies clustered at the door, and each would receive a nod that would pass for hello, though she'd remain quiet otherwise, waiting for those decisions to be made, regarding staying or going.

Leoxander didn't look like he'd be staying. He was still armoured and dressed for battle, his gaze focused and intent in that way it always got before a hunt. While he motioned Keturah toward the room where Mahri and the baby were, he headed for the kitchen to scavenge something to drink from the Beta's cabinets, offering Jolie a sidelong glance while he restrained a sigh for more travelling on the horizon. "If that's really necessary." But he agreed, easily enough. So when he discovered a bottle of whiskey somewhere, he'd inform Mahri. "I'm takin' this with me. I'll get you back." Okay, now that was two drinks he owed her. But he hadn't had more than a drink in a week and this seemed a good time to shake some nerves out of his system. He may not let it show, but Mahri's condition did not make him feel anxious to fight the lycan hunter. "Now?" He asked Jolie quietly, as he closed that cupboard or drawer it had been discovered in.

Leoxander caught Arien's scent, and he was at least reassured Mahri would be looked after, if Jolie walked him to the warehouse.

Keturah reminded herself not to linger in the doorway, though there was another hesitant step that might have looked a bit like a stumble before she wrinkled her nose and stepped the rest of the way inside with him. Eyes flickered toward Jolie, belatedly, before returning to Leo. There was suddenly too little room there at the doorway, and she couldn't help but shift sideways before Leo had left for the kitchen. Gaze followed him a moment longer, before searching for the injured wolf.

Jolie would pause to offer Arien a very slight dip of her chin, before answering, "Yes." And with a quiet word to Keturah as she passed, knowing all too well how the patience of a renegade wears thin, and how quickly, she was out the door and heading to the docks.

Jolie whispered to Keturah, "Don't take any guff from her. I've shackles in my bag, if she even thinks about leaving this tower."

Jolie jerked a thumb at said bag, before she went.

Keturah looked a little amused by that whisper, even breathed a 'hah' of a laugh that Jolie might have caught before leaving.

Arien stepped into the room once that doorway cleared, and might have moved toward that chair that had served for a bed the night before, dropping that bag alongside. Bass tones caused a turn of head toward that kitchen, but eyes found Keturah and a quiet question was offered. "First time by? Have a look at her eyes, if she'll let you.." That dip of chin her way was returned the sin eater, before she sank into that seat.

Leoxander departed a little slower than the necromancer, giving a glance toward Mahri and the bassinet, or crib, or wherever Lan' was, today, even as he peeled the wrapper off a bottle of liquor. Uncle Leo would be quite the role model, indeed. Since Ket' scooted aside and Jolie was already outside, that left him looking toward Arien in the doorway, and he raised his jaw with a vague shadow of a smile in wordless greeting to her. He had to go, though, and would make that 'farewell' apparent by saying. "You lot stick with someone 'till this bullshit is over, savvy?"

Keturah said to Leoxander, "Be safe."

Arien said to Leoxander, "Aye aye.." And her own faint smile was offered in return. "And what she said.."

Arien flicked a finger Ket's way.

Leoxander jested quietly, to lighten the mood, "Not much fun in that..."

Leoxander stepped out onto that porch, and followed in Jolie's lead.

The Jolly Roger Tattoo Shop, Rynvale - preparations are made

Jolie wasted no time on pauses for speech, figuring it was better to wait until they got where they were going, and so the going was quicker for it. Whether the door was open or she had to wait for the rogue to let them both in, she’d only spare a few seconds for a glance around and a cautious sniff, before turning to him, her gaze a green glitter in the darker interior. “The orc used her own blood to ruin Mahri’s eyes.” That information imparted, she glanced toward the trapdoor that led down to Bil’s gloomy basement. “Your friend down there. I’ve had.. dealings with him.” Which would not be explained, just now. “He’s got a few goods I traded, might come in handy.” She added, recalling the other thing, “Oh and this,” while her fingers unhooked a small and bulbous leather container from her belt, her cloak hem pushed aside to reveal another just like it still appended. The container was handed out. “See that pin on top? Don’t pull it.”

Leoxander indulged a little in that bottle for the walk, but it wasn't as bad as his addiction had called for in the past. Rather than finish half by the end of their walk, it was only a fourth, maybe a third, missing. He unlocked the chains and pushed open those warehouse doors to leave them thus, since people were due to work that night. The shop was fairly clean, not much had changed, save the addition of some weight equipment in the back, for slow days. He wouldn't bother to light lamps to draw attention since both possessed nocturnal vision to see each other in the dark, and he slowed to a stop a few feet away and listened to the information that fell from her lips. His hand would reach out for that object and he would do as instructed, making no attempt to pluck the pin, seeing it as a trigger to something likely explosive. "Are vampires as weak to our blood as we are of theirs? I never bothered to ask you." He'd never really had a worthy vampire enemy, since she'd been practically the queen of that kind.

Leoxander set the bottle down on a near table to inspect the object he was given.

Jolie said, “Not quite. Dragon blood’s better. Burns ‘em. If it gets in.. well, they’re good as dead. That’s what your feller downstairs has got. On tap, as it were.” A secret kept, that she hoped she wouldn’t be mauled for. “He had a request for it. I dropped it off while you were… “ she shrugged. “Couldn’t find you, to clear it. Anyway, we have a supply of dragon blood. I can see to that, if you like.” Messy job, as it would be. “Or you can slaughter it yourself,” she added, the secret revealed. The sineater smiled, not particularly sweetly, as she glanced to the item on the table. “And that is alchemical naphtha. The pin releases a glass vial. Highly unstable stuff. You take the pin out, you throw it.” She spoke word then, guttural and lacking in vowels. “Remember that word. It’s the trigger that sets the liquid off. Whatever it’s touched will ignite,” her smile grew sharp, “And burn, and burn. It doesn’t stop, until it runs out of fuel.”

Leoxander remembered that, then, as she said it. Dragons blood. That was their weakness. And he knew plenty of places and reasons to collect that. Still studying that ignitable object aptly named, he'd find a place to secure it safely on his person but not reach to tuck it there, yet. Jacket would be removed, six small daggers beyond the two twin blades on his belt holstered securely to his ribs. "Are you comin' with me? Might not be able to bring her back if she's in her kill or be killed mode. Not without risk." And everyone seemed to want him to be careful, for the most part. He threw his jacket onto the table with his satchel and started to prepare his person to carry all necessary things on his body, most to be concealed under that skull marked leather when he put it back on.

Jolie’s tone carried a darkness to it, in reply. “Try and stop me.” She’d eye that chain again, if it was visible, while he prepared and a shadow of an expression surpassed the blackness in her voice, before she turned for the trap door. The hatch was slung open Jolie called a few words down. “Hey, Bil. Y’know that special delivery? Cat’s out of the bag ‘cause I need it back. Yeah, yeah, full refund. Bloody hell –and- ten percent.. Just bring it up here, will you?” Turning back to Leo, she wore a guileless look that said, ‘Don’t yell at me’, but she would speak nothing more until that hunchback came grumbling up lugging a small crate, which was shoved onto the boards before he grumbled back down.

Bil dropped 1 Frost Dragon-Hatchling.

In the crate, something slithered.

Jolie said to Leoxander, "It's only a little one."

Leoxander noticed the direction of her look with a brief glance through his hair, but he ignored it, and worked on preparing himself to grab necessary objects in a sudden decision. During this, he looked toward the cellar door to see that mutant looking man, and the scent from within that crate caused his nose to flare. "...You didn't. To do what with it? Kill it?" Maybe there was some potency to fresh or young that he wasn't aware of, but he wasn't too pleased with the fact she had what he thought she had... in his warehouse. A dark frown occupied his features as he turned warily to face the box, hardly caring how big it was. They all were dangerous, brainless beasts, to him.

Jolie nodded. Then frowned and shook her head, a moment after. "It was a special order... Anyway, we can use its blood." In any other circumstance, she might've groaned at having to give that money back. But this was worth every penny. "Fresh. Young. It'll burn like hell itself. I'll do the honours. Down the dock a ways." Just to make him feel better. Though she risked worse than a frown by asking, more quietly, "So. Whose ring're you wearing these days?"

Leoxander seemed to agree to her decision by the more mellow if disgusted look in his eyes, staring at that crate, but he'd turn away from it and replace his jacket over his shoulders to be ready to depart. The ring she mentioned rattled softly against the button beside it, and he offered a sidelong glance with a frown, "They're from people who protect me..." One Larket, the other Rynvale. Arien, and Parsithius - though one was given though another. The elven make was pretty obvious in one, while the symbol was clear on the other. "Shouldn't really matter, though, should it?" He stayed reasonably calm, the question presented whether she had an answer or not. He didn't go so far as to explain the meaning behind either, and let her take the conversation where she would as he drew the collar of his jacket up over a mark on his throat, and concealed the lower half of his recently shaven features.

Jolie noted those other differences, from last she'd seen him. Supposing things had made her make horrible errors before, and she wanted, needed, to be very clear on this. "You're with that ... elf, now." It was meant to be a question, but came out flat as the deadening look in her eye. But he'd only catch a glimpse of that, if he was even looking, before she turned for the crate. "Yeah, shouldn't." was muttered, and she heaved the box up into her arms, suddenly intent on staring at what was within it, through the slats.

Leoxander suspected that question would come, and he lowered his eyes toward the table, and that explosive object for a moment, letting his weight rest on his hands. A look her way, and Leo wasn't trying to avoid a direct answer, he just didn't really have one, yet. "I'm just... tryin' to have some fun. Not be bloody depressed over s*** all the time. I slept with her, yeah." He'd answer the real question that she wanted to know, and bluntly. But that sharp look in his eyes may have suggested the elf wasn't the only one he was using in such ways. No one seemed to hate him for it as much as he expected her to, yet.

Jolie shrugged one shoulder, as she walked toward the door, almost dropping the crate for it. "I slept with Colton…Black." In case he knew any others by the name. "For pretty much the same reason." And she was using that shoulder to try to get the bloody door open, and get the hell out. So she could go... kill something. "Blood's good on arrows. I'll need those." Whether he helped her with the door or not, she'd soon be out in the fresher air, breathing it in long, deep breaths.

Leoxander looked after her, and took a slow breath to say, "I know." He didn't follow right away, but would, eventually.

The Hanging Corpse Tavern - Vailkrin - Finding Fadje

Jolie came to a halt outside the tavern, her breath drawn harder than it might’ve been due to those pain-killing drow drugs she’d been munching solidly wearing off a bit now. The chain around her neck – hardly a sentimental trophy-holder, this one, solid steel link and its several feet length halved and looped – and that black sword at her side, daggers in place and sundry other, less obvious weapons were all in place. She’d stare at the door, frowning. “Got. To be kidding me.”

Leoxander was the shadow moving behind the female. Their journey had been taken in silence, save the slight murmur of conversation necessary to plan for the worst. He was focused, a predatory look fixed in off coloured eyes, his body armoured and fitted with weapons galore. Quiver and compound bow on his back, he checked a light in an upper window, giving Jolie a silent nod to confirm this is where the scent and his feral tracker had led them. A look down the street toward the next building, and he motioned toward it to silently remind her of the back way out of the cabal - an escape he would not give their mark the opportunity to use. His eyes reflected light when they returned to the window... debating whether to take the front door or steal in the thieves' den silently. "She might trust you..." He whispered this low, putting out that option of misleading the orc into a false sense of security.

Jolie made a last-minute check of all weapons, tugging her cloak around her, to mask them. Maybe she’d rattle a bit.. A tan-less hand was thrust out, palm up, her voice hardly above a breath. “Goggles.” No room for niceties here. “Also.. that gnome thing For lighting fires.” A heavy chuff of breath ensued; maybe Leo’d recall how it took a dragon to set this place ablaze – no fire magics’d work inside.

Jolie had an idea, suddenly .. something to do with a quick detour to the kitchen.

Leoxander was lowering those goggles over his eyes as she spoke that reminder, bow taken from his back and adjusted at the end to bring the metal laced strings impossibly tight - worthy of a fatal impact. That vial of dragon's blood was drawn from pocket, cork carelessly pulled with his teeth so that he could prepare them fresh, quickly, there in the street. He took a glance down the road to check for the scent of his back-up, who he's summoned with a howl. "Let's make this quick. Don't give her time to make first strike."

Leoxander studies a white butterfly flitting by, curiously.

Jolie wasted no more time on speech, but cracked the door open and slipped in, silent on rubber soles. Hasty to the kitchen, she came out with the great roasting-fork cook used to turn the beef sides cooked on the vast oven. A vial cracked open, she smeared its points with the thickening liquid within, until the black-as-char but sharp tines gleamed. A few quiet words to Urghdak, a look to Steadman - he'd know what that meant, the man was already headed to bolt all obvious exits, or routes of escape. Then to the stairs, not a creak made on those new boards.

Carter had heard that howl, of course he had; it rang through the forests like a taunting beacon that illuminated his own inadequacies. Thankfully, for the russet wolf at least, he had been with Caedan. She'd convinced him to try and summon his own, intense anger at... well, hypothetical situations. And it had worked. It hurt less than last time, he had noted, but had refrained from dwelling on the intricacies of the shift for too long -- he'd heard his alpha's call, and duly obliged. Following the scent of the rogue, he had sprinted from Caedan's vigil outside Mahri's tower to Vailkrin, a place fairly unknown to either version of Carter. Nevertheless, he had bound toward that familiar scent and eventually caught up with the one that had summoned him. Drawing to a halt, breath bated as he panted, he offered a growl to indicate his presence. The other figure is far more unknown -- he vaguely recognised her smell, in a strange kind of way. He'd been the unfortunate recipient of a bite to the behind by a black wolf that smelt similar. It didn't overly matter to Carter, however -- the alpha wasn't attacking her, so neither should he. So he sat, patiently, awaiting his orders.

Jolie would have cast a quick, sere look toward that wolf before she entered.

Leoxander moved with compound bow in hand. He intended to snipe the hunter, if at all possible. One last check toward the road and it was there he paused, a faint touch of a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth under that mask. Good wolf. He'd managed through his transformation and shown up, after all, and he already somehow knew who was responsible for assisting Carter through it. He'd not be allowed to sit, and motioned sternly inside. There would be no delay in this hunt. "Keep your distance from her..." He'd speak those words very quietly, reminding both the pup and Jolie where the katana wielding orc's strength supposedly lied. One clear shot was all he needed, and the look in his eyes behind that protective eye wear said so. Although Carter was wolfed, Leo held the door open and in passing, he caught the russet male to grab his jaw roughly and pull a pair of goggles awkwardly over the wolf's head, strap catching behind his ears and skull. Any attempt to shake them off would earn a soft growl of warning from the Alpha - he was to keep them on.

Jolie's barman waited by the door. The Security Chief was stationed by the foot of the stairs.

Leoxander made his way inside the Corpse after Carter, giving Steadman a familiar, dark look. But he didn't have time to play with one-eye, today. His focus immediately fixed on the stairs.

Jolie tugged her own eye protection in place as she ascended, looking much a devil...not in red today, but the long-handled fork was a dead giveaway.

She paused on the stairs, looking back for any subtle directions Leo might want to give before crunch time.

Leoxander felt his heart starting to pound, but he also knew how to purposefully slow it and keep his breathing mellow. "Be ready to watch my fire." He mouthed those words mostly to Jolie, eyes fixed on hers, that old means of communication and knowing still existent, as far as he knew. They'd been through enough hunts to work well together, and he gave one last distracted look toward Carter, warning him to do nothing stupid through that stare, before he drew a dipped arrow from quiver to have it ready to nock, and took that first silent step onto the stairs.

Jolie tracked the vampire's scent to the room most recently occupied by Colton Black. The door could be locked or not. No way to test it without.. she turned to glance at Leo, hoping she might at least get him an instant line of fire, with an open door. At worst, she'd tip the orc off, but with those barred windows in there, Fadje wouldn't be making any sly exits. She raised her fist and made a silent, pretend knocking motion, a head's up to step back, allow room for a possible shot. Unless the Alpha vetoed her plan and simply kicked the door in. He'd be the only one there strong enough, likely.

Leoxander took that last slow breath in an exhale, jaw tight, ears open, and weapons in hand or in reach. The goggles made it just a little more difficult to see but his other senses offered leverage - leverage... Caedan's word of the week. That the rogue knew how important that was against this particular sort of opponent. This was no duel of honour. It was a wolf hunt, an extermination, and each had come prepared in their own way. He spoke under his breath to Carter the moment Jolie looked his way... now or never. "Keep moving, and move fast." Carter could decide for himself if he'd risk being a distraction, or hover back out of the way to be back up. A nod to Jolie, and his fingers tightened around the handle of his compound bow, though he kept one ready for reach of blade or string, depending on what happened next. Silent steps carried him passed the door to observe it's opening from another angle, and get out of direct range of being seen.

Jolie cleared her throat, gave a polite knock on the door, and spoke in a slightly Cenrillian accent, "Housekeeping!"

Leoxander would wait to see if Jolie stepped back out of the way. If she believed kicking in the door was the better option, he would do so.

Leoxander held his breath, somewhat, waiting to see if it still came to that. Leoxander whispered to Jolie, "Be careful..."

Jolie was ready to boot the door open, should it need to be booted once unlocked. And then to get the hell out of the way.

Jolie just slid him a green look. Half a smile. Eyes back on the door.

Leoxander twitched his nose to keep track of scents.

Carter pads silently to the door, his nose almost touching it. Bending into a hunch, legs bent in a move with intent to spring, he waits with seriously anxious anticipation; shaking ever-so slightly, those green eyes are set firmly on the door. His plan is exactly the opposite to Leo's previous warning -- he -is- going to do something stupid and offer himself as a distraction. Stupid, yes, but fairly useful. Potentially.

Jolie might nudge Carter out of the line of her dodge route, ungently, if he didn't get the first hint, which was also a boot-nudge.

Room Cleaning in The Hanging Corpse - Fadje confronts her pursuers

Fadje is upon her knees atop the bed, lost in thought apparent, her hands placed atop her thighs - no movement is made by the vampire, her mien one of complete and utter control. Every breath, every shift of air and change of scent within the Den caught by her primal senses. Cast about the vampire's neck is the thick material of her veil, revealing the harsh ascetics of her Orcish features; and to her right resides the stained pallidity of naked flesh, the tub used as a veritable bloodbath for the life-force of nameless victim, their vampiric vitals congealing with the heavy-silver resin added to the concoction. She didn't order housekeeping, the door wasn't locked. Like a python waiting to strike she remained perched atop the downy relief of the bed. Waiting.

Carter shifts just enough for Jolie to get through, and hunches back down. He would have growled his irritation, but he's set on remaining silent for now. So, doesn't.

Jolie frowned. It was too quiet. The stink of vampire was too strong, wafting under the door frame. Did that greenskin have a whole damn nest in there? This wasn't good. Another glance to Leo would tell him this. Her hand went to her belt, a pin was pulled and cast aside. The other held the fork, javelin-style - another indication of her unease. She backed away.

Carter 's gaze remains resolutely on the closed door, and he doesn't flinch... despite the stench. He's determined to do what he needs to do, and awaits the first strike.

Leoxander didn't particularly give a damn that the door wasn't locked. He was pissed, and his patience was waning. That didn't mean he'd necessarily do something stupid but he would give them a hell of an entrance, and Jolie another bill to tack onto the Corpse payments. A few steps toward the door, and knowing there could be a bow already aimed for his heart behind that portal, he'd brace, shift, and kick the flat of his boot into the hard flat of wood near the door handle to bust it open and into the wall, straining hinges. Simultaneously, his hand went to pocket as Jolie palmed her special gift, and a small tin device was drawn from his pocket. Although ready to move, dodge, it is more than likely at least a second will be spared staring down the rogue on the bed, menacingly. She might recognize his intentions with his similar style of masking his features for bloodshed.

Jolie lobbed that fluid-filled device as hard as she could, once she spotted the orc. The Corpse had seen fire after fire – the stone walls wouldn't burn, at least... There was a shatter of glass, small, probably unheard. Red fluid splashed, with any luck it'd hit Fadje directly. Whatever it hit, that bed was covered in droplets of sticky fuel, which would adhere to whatever it hit, the way… well, the way napalm sticks to kids. The fork, steel and tipped in vampirically fatal dragon blood was hurled, right after, the whole of it a smooth one-two action before she once more made a hasty bid to get herself out of the way of projectiles possibly flying either way.

Fadje moves the moment Leoxander's boot meets the door, leaping forward with a preternatural celerity - the edges and planes of her body blurring slightly under the duress of her speed. Into the myriad and flame the deathbringing fork flew, sweeping across the armoured splint of her spiked-shoulder pads, not yet risking the expulsion of her precious vitals. Keen eyes could catch the revelation of what is within her hands, the silvery glint of chain, which, with the leverage of her artificial flight, is pulled tight upon and with the tautening of the links comes the tub. Deformed corpse and all the doorway of the room is suddenly awash in grizzly appendages and the silver-lined ichors of the victim. The dull thud of the orc's boots meeting the floorboards is lost to the cacophony of sound, a lissome roll onto her right shoulder, evoking a strangled cry and spinning her away from the door jamb and any retaliation, for the moment. Now, her veil is placed to shroud her features. The vague scent of charred Orc fills the air, it had begun and not well for Fadje. . Leoxander could feel that deadly, poured concoction burning his eyes even through goggles and what little skin was exposed from dark leather, just as it was more than likely most of Jolie's flammable mixture wouldn't land as heavily as they'd have liked, with the orc on the move. It wouldn't matter, though, because Leo popped open that lid, sparked a flame on the wick, and tossed the gnomish firestarter into the room, probably sacrificing this object he'd had so many years to the cause. Whatever the case, it would catch on that naphtha and erupt, and that flame would likely transfer to bed linens and painting frame edges to devour the room in heat, even if the walls would not burn. Leverage; the rogue perhaps had her mixture tainting the floor like lava but his boots squished into silver and guts to protect his feet and he was not nearly so vulnerable to that fire as the vampire would be. And so, separating himself from the she wolf and the russet pup, even going so far as to pass that compound bow back to Jolie and shrug out of quiver, Leo gripped the hilts of wickedly curved, dragon forged blades, which were -not- dosed in dragon blood. As promised, Jolie would watch the hunter suffer, and the Alpha stepped into that arena of fuelled fire with her, holding the business end of his knives against his forearms as though they were an extra extension of appendages, like the clawed tibia and tarsus of a praying mantis.

Carter had been ready to act. As the deadly sea washes towards his position however, he, having fair warning as a result of the simply putrid odour of the concoction, leaps backwards from the approaching wash of red. In fact, it's more instinct than anything -- the smell is enough to incite the jump, even before the fear of what it might -do- to him kicks in. From his retreated position, the goggled wolf watches on with a growl, now. He's irked as his primal senses are urging him to brandish those claws at the orc and, should he ever be granted the proximity, rip and shred at its now-charred flesh.

Carter is watching the alpha in the blaze-like arena, too. He's waiting, anticipating, as the fire burns the blood from the floor and makes it walkable again. When it is, he will duly rush to Leo's aid.

Fadje continues to move and constantly, the merciless heat from the intensified flames causing her flesh to broil and blood to sear. The katanas that bounce behind her shoulder blades remain in place, yet still, a brief pilfering of the belt that sashays at her waistline revealing a trio of silver blades. This fight already an expensive one. Shimmying backward with a series of dexterous steps Fadje puts as much distance as possible between herself and the inferno of the bed linen; a sudden and abrupt flash of her fingers unleashing the triumvirate of knives in Leoxander's direction with an uncanny surety. Now the sweet 'tching' of her katanas release is heard, with the rising temperature inside the room and the menacing, masked gladiator of Leoxander this would have to end sooner than expected.

Leoxander was risky. Rather than twist his position or break his swift stalking approach to safely avoid those thrown blades, he brought the flat of his knives, still tucked against his arms, in a flurry of defensive movement that managed to flawlessly deflect all three with a slight spark to the clash of angle and impact, and only because he was double-armed. Although he realizes melee range to be the most dangerous position to combat this opponent, by the time she is drawing those swords into readiness, she'd already be due to use them to defend a hard back, right handed sweep of the first short blade, then a second upper cut jab aimed for a mark between her ribs, which would have been a fatal land on any mortal. Should he succeed that second strike (as the first was meant disturb her and get her weapons out of the way, it would likely not kill the female, as these particular twin blades were not dosed. But it would be a hell of a bleed, and he'd be ready to counter her close range retort, either way. The fire blazed around them.

Jolie had backed the -hell- up, probably risking crossing Carter's path with those damn boots again, when the tub upended and spilled its gruesome load like a sick river bursting the banks of the bed, spattering rubber-soled boots and lower leathers as the blood-and-argent flood crested over the bed's end and hit the floor in horrible chunks and a toxic-to-lycan wave. Fire on the quilts thus soaked guttered - and sprang back to life, blazing even in the fluid morass. How she loved the smell of naphtha (at any time of day), which would likewise flame until it ran out of fuel on the orc as well, had any hit the green-skin. Surging forward to follow the Alpha's subsequent further entry, she was at hand to relieve him of the bow and quiver, the latter hastily slung on her shoulder, arrow drawn - blooded with vampire poison or hollow and filled with it, she wasn't looking as she did so - the string of the bow drawn back with a deal of effort, less muscle and injuries making work of it. But the upshot was she had an arrow nocked, and one that being steel, she could see now, would punch through any thing less that similar metals, what the sheer poundage of that stringed weapon. Her arm shook with the strain of -not- releasing that perilous bolt, just yet. But when she did - the arrow set loose about the time Fadje pulled those knives out - the hollow shaft, pierced with tiny holes, would potentially slow-leak into any pierced wound and at the least was slick enough already to make a nick or graze a painful, poison distraction. Not a lot of room to dodge that aim that'd tracked the vampire through a burning room not too soon, for the smoke was watering her eyes now, not to mention that hellish, vampiric stink.

Jolie did her best not to shoot Leo, in the process.

Carter is effectively rendered useless by the sea of silver-laced blood and, as he continues to pace, he also manages to get in Jolie's way. This time, the booted kick incites a guttural growl from the wolf in testament to his annoyance. Those keen, green eyes watch through his newest accessory and desperately track the progress of the Alpha. Still he waits for the time he can join the fray; still he waits for the fire to consume the poisons lining the floor.

Leoxander might have been in the way, but he was also good at avoiding fired missiles.

Fadje fell into the sinuous dance of swordplay with a decadent sway and efficient mien, keeping Leoxander between she and the archer. The masked man's first strike is parried with a telling twist of wrist, sliding along the length of the dragon-blade to hit the hilt's guard and join its twin in a vicious horizontal slash to deflect the mortal-intentions of Leo's pincer-like assault. With the weight of her bestial frame and vampiric nature behind the riposte, the Orc is seen to brief safety. From the corner of her eye the glint of a bolt released is caught, Leo now the unfortunate victim of Jolie's projectile as Fadje drops low. Reversing her grip on the right katana she thrust the hilt for her assailant's stomach, a mechanical click reaping the boone of the silver spike which protrudes from the leather wrappings. Between a bolt and a perforated lung the man lies, the heinous bite of silvery poison inches away.

Leoxander heard the snick of arrow just as Fadje ducked. Jolie both benefit him and greatly annoyed him, because although he caught the edge of that arrow across his inked arm, it also caused him to reel back and dodge, conveniently enough avoiding the stab of a bladed hilt. It might snip open a cut on his leathers but his quick movement would allow him a moment more of uninjured progression - as speed was his greatest strength. Rather than swing his blade he hoped to catch the thrust of an elbow upside Fadje's head at that close range, his aim seeking to cause her to stumble a little closer to that door, if he should land. If not, the duel would continue rather equal, several sparks likely to ensue from the clash of competing weapons, searching a way to an artery.

Jolie - who really wasn't that careless a shot usually - let's blame the fumes - would, while the vampire riposted and danced about, keep a second arrow trained upon her in case of an opening for a clearer shot. A second metallic arrow, likewise filled with dragon's vitae, wet the bowstring red with its slow-leak finely drilled holes as she trod forward into that mire of silvered sanguine, all the while keeping the arrow's tip trained on the orc's head - even if she had to duck and weave to do so, all of it taking a toll on the musculature of her arms, but hold it she would - not to shoot yet, but to round the room, and unless Fadje wanted a close-range and venomous missile to shatter through that veiled cranium while knives and/or lycan elbows kept her occupied, she may just have to keep moving toward that exit where Urghdak in full alert and a bunch of locked doors would greet the vampire. Of course, she made sure Leo would be in the position to track her motions more clearly, this time.

Fadje 's head snaps back at the impact of elbow as events begin to fold against her. Senses reeling and eyes slightly watered, the reversed hilt of her weapon is smashed against the floor, causing her to lose her grip, momentarily. Pitching her head backward and arching her back a swift kick of her boots brings the orc up, over and back to her feet with a svelte showing of acrobatics; from a body struggling to fully function with the heat and exhaustion exacted upon it. The smooth handspring retreat has the orc collecting her stray weapon and clashing once more with visceral speed of her opponent, flashes of crimson lining her armour and runed sleeves as the fight intensifies. It is this malicious magicks which begin to glow and palpably hum as guttural tones slip the grit-tooth prison of Fadje's maw. Jolie's coercion works, the vampiric Orc sashaying a constant distance from the archer and her blade wielding comrade as her mind works frantically for what is fast turning into an escape mission. Flourishing her dual armature and flashing feigns, thrusts and parries the runes across her enchanted armour continue to alight in melodious tones and hues, their aetheric chorus already enacting a malignant relief from the flames, the heat from the room being consumed by the runic gauntlets and bracers at an expediently increasing fervour.

Jolie had lost track of Fadje whose heat-evasive magics would probably fizzle in short order, being that the Corpse had, fixed into its walls, a magic-damping spell put in place by the Arch-mage of the lands himself, and as spells do not suffer fire damage these were as firm as ever. Swift acrobatics or not, though, the veiled one was a large target and Jolie was more than ready to shoot, the arrow-tip swerving madly to keep the orc in line of fire and failing while Fadje tumbled, at least. But the necromancer's lithe legs scissored in a deft glide of motion, Jolie coming at the would-be lycan killer swift as a wild wolf and sideways, her eye and the arrow in direct line to that upright body and gaining all the time. Fadje was fast - faster than a speeding arrow? The answer would have to come when she sought a gap in the flash of a blade, one anticipated by the previous motion, and shot, discarding the bow and sliding the slender iron chain from where it was looped like a linked and inverted U about her neck. This was spun, bola-like in anticipation of tangling sword or limbs, while vampiric soaked through her lower leathers, leaving patches of sticky burn where previous injury's bandages were not wrapped to her legs to delay it.

Leoxander used no magic, so it would not have to worry about the effects the Hanging Corpse had built into it, as the other rogue with curious magics did. Being she was a vampire, it did not surprise him, nor would it worry him given the knowledge he'd collected about the Necromancer's repaired pub. He could also feel splashes of that mix on the floor splattering places on his flesh, but it would not likely be near as effective as the fire, the arrows, the fact that it was two/three on one. And in that doorway, another distraction, as Carter was still shadowed in the hall as a massive, changed wolf with lynx tipped ears, and likely immediately snarled and barked his anger from a safe but dangerously near distance, offering some hate and noise toward Fadje, even as Jolie's released arrow should fly. While all this occurred, Leo found his own throwing knives holstered to his ribs and now it was the orc who would have to find means to deflect not only the distraction of a changed wolf, not only the aim and threat of Jolie's attempts, but two knives - one to each ambidextrous hand, flung in sharp aim for the doorway and the vampire's midsection, with the same accuracy and speed a metal string compound bow might fire it's dart. He'd be stalking after their opponent's retreat soon after, whether successful with those fierce, rapid throws or not.

Fadje 's weaponry are a pristine blur of systematic destruction, their sharpened edges a jagged flurry of defensive prowess. Even still her resolve falters, Jolie's vine-like rebuttal, the crowding force of Urghdak, Leo's blades and the unceasing inferno of the flames unabated, the vampire ails. To her knees at first, sprays of her vital fluids and chunks of jade flesh spill into the air; the musky scent of undeath permeating from her broken form. And down, her veiled features are met by the floorboards with one last guttural cry. A crusade ended before it had begun, the bestial warrior slips into unconsciousness and the heady unrest of dragon-blood traces filtering through her bloodstream.

Leoxander ...unbelievably enough... had three blades that were dipped, and three that were not. And for some reason, he'd used two out of the three that were not, just as he'd drawn blades that were not fatal before. Curious moves for someone after the orc's head for his clan mistress, but he'd always had a touch of intelligence behind those mismatched eyes. There were things worse than death, than the eternal peace most immortals craved, and so he would not use that last naphtha 'grenade' to burn the rogue's corpse to ashes. He would approach with one blade still in hand ready to brutally impale into the back of the female's skull, if she tried to trick them. "You bloody move, I'll be feeding your f$%#ing heart to the sea." This was the only warning he'd give, in deep, bass tones, while the fire blazed and crackled behind him, a rival to his lycanthrope heat.

Jolie had slowed and dropped the chain, seeing the orc was fallen, and on the studying her prone form nudged Fadje with her boot. Not gently at all, and with a bit of a hard-swung heel behind it. "I think she's out," was the response to silence, and Jolie turned to her former mate with narrow eyes. Odd, it may seem to .. well, the world at large, perhaps.. that she wasn't trying to kill him too for the news he openly offered her earlier. But she seemed pleased enough, at the moment, with the current violence. "So", she said, "Is it you or I taking her head?"

Jolie lifted her own head at the cry that came from below, "FIRE!"

Fadje might elicit a moan, more out of her body's unconscious reaction than any coherent action. Blood pools across the floor from her wounds and her swords have fallen from her grasp. Up s*** creek and without paddle or blade the orc was left to the whim of those who brought her down.

Steadman came stomping up those stairs, and stood a time, staring blank and single-eyed at Leo, Jolie, the orc and -- the blazing room behind. Maybe his next words would make a sailor blush. He stomped back down, shouting orders.

Leoxander looked toward Jolie. He'd fulfilled this promise, if not others. She had her orc, and he would give her the kill, the head, the suffering, whatever she wanted out of it. So long as the hunter would not be a threat to his pack again. "She's yours. Keep her away from mine." Jolie had recently made it clear that she and his pack were separate, so he would not insult her by suggesting she protect her family by ridding the world of that creature. He didn't take his anger out on Fadje, however upset he was about Mahri's condition. He'd step over the body and let the room burn, moving into the shadows if others should come up with buckets to try to douse those hungry flames. He wasn't entirely out of Steadman’s way but enough that the lurch could slide by.

Jolie…… who was told to leave the pack the hell alone, or rather its leader, and further, not to come back - and so did not, after having only wanted a few days to herself........ stared at the fallen dervish (so she named the orc in her mind, after her whirligig swordplay the other day) and bit her lip. She said nothing for a time, while men with buckets and wet sacks did their best to extinguish the undying flames. "No," she said. "Not her head." She sought Leo in his shadows. "It isn't mine to take. It's Mahri's. And Mahri could.. use some help. Seeing as she's...." Okay, not so kind she wouldn’t break a rib this time, to punctuate her point with another kick "...blind, and all."

Leoxander had actually told her something more along the lines of proving herself to the rank she felt herself worthy of, but he'd also accepted that she'd be gone for those days to 'find herself', as she'd explained to him wolfed - he remembered. Nonetheless, he'd done as she'd asked, and he looked back her way from the hall. "I'll take the trash as far as the tower before I'm done. I want a drink." He needed one, after the night, with those burns speckling his skin, selfishly enough. Mahri would survive, the hunter was caught if not killed, there was only forward steps to take, from there. Carter was likely at his side, waiting the Alpha's decision on where to go next.

Jolie remembered the whole story.

Jolie blinked. "I've cages downstairs. You can have a drink here. I intend to have a lot of drinks."

Leoxander couldn't help but hesitate at the idea of drinking in the corpse again. Still, considering what they'd been through. "Maybe one. You want me to take her?"

Jolie nodded. "I'll set up the shots." And that's where she went, now.

Fadje is, unfortunately, a heavy, dead weight!

Jolie's Chief of Security might lend a hand…and cop a feel, while he was at it.

Leoxander offered a glance at Urghdak as he grabbed the 'lower end' of the body unnaturally high, and his eyes rolled slightly before his tug encouraged the guard to follow him downstairs, hauling the prey. His fingertips were burnt from the spray of blood and silver, and there were even a few glints of liquid metal speckled and due to scar his tattoo'd skin, but all of this would be ignored and they would carry Fadje toward that cellar while Jolie went about her celebration business. Once below, Leo would glare the other away and mutter low. "Not a chance, landlubber. I'll take old one-eye on duty before I trust you to watch this piece of meat." At least, that's how Urgh' was looking at her. He'd close and latch the door to the cell once the charred, wounded body of the rogue was dumped unceremoniously inside.

Jolie slunk into a seat at the bar, on the business side because that's where the bottles are, and pulled several off the shelf. The drow pain relief was gone, and so was her rage, and all that was left was a very small, very weary and sore woman who just -- wanted to drink. Shed pop a cork off one for Leo and leave it on the bar. Nowhere near the last seat at the end.

Leoxander expected the third seat from the end, anyhow. It was just... the place he felt that good bar vibe, and although it might be difficult to conjure that feeling with specks of silver and blood burn on his face and hands, once the body was secured in its cell and he was certain there was -someone- to watch it, even if that someone was Carter, for now, he'd return to the main floor of that familiar establishment, keeping ears alert for any sound from below. A drink was all he'd promise so once he approached that bottle, a drink, or a shot, was all he'd pour at first, waiting to see if she wanted one as well before he placed the glass container down. He didn't have much to say in the way of a toast, nor did he find himself relaxed enough to ease into a seat, yet. Callused fingers gripped that tiny tumbler to lift it either to the side of hers, or directly to his mouth.

Jolie didn't ever bother with a glass. She drank straight from her own bottle, that preferred pale green liquid that almost matched her eyes. After a slug of that, or several as it was, she bent to peel the leathers off her legs (don't worry, the counter prevented shocking views) and scraped the silver-blood residue off with a cloth. And a bit of skin, with it. Her shirt was long enough to call not indecent, when untucked. Back to the bottle, she looked at Leo. "This is all.... " she laughed, out of sheer exhaustion, maybe finding humour in the bottle, somewhere. "I dunno. Was good to hunt with you. I can't believe you slept with that ginger mope, though. I'll give you shit about it forever. I hope you know this." Maybe she'd pour him another, just to be cheeky while she was at it.

Jolie hoped like heck that burning on her legs would go away. Few healers in Vailkrin, and all.

Fadje is a very hospitable house guest, now that she has been beaten within an inch of her life.

Jolie might send the halfbreed down to give her a spongebath, later.

Leoxander lifted his glass to inspect it a while, first, while she indulged in her own bottle. His eyes lifted through his hair and the look said he agreed, regarding their shared, successful hunt. Almost like old times. Almost. "You're the one that spread it for a reptile. Might be a mutt but at least I lack the scales." And to this, he lifted his glass in cheers to his ex lover, and drank, not bothering to check for poison. He was feeling too lazy for that, considering the new freckles of scars that touched his cheeks, from the battle. Could have been far worse for all of them. A look toward Carter, who'd likely curled up in a corner in waiting, and he lifted his glass again to drain it to a half way point. "Gotta get the pup back, though. You keeping her here or plan on taking her to Mahri?"

Jolie snorted, half a laugh. "He's not a reptile…" but the other half of that laugh was in it. Jolie had no clue about Colton's heritage. Funnily enough, neither did Colton. She thought Leo was just calling her new lover sleazy. Which … okay, he often was. She returned the salute and then drank, listened to his question and thought about it. "I'll clean her up and bring her myself." With a bit of help. "In chains. Mahri can decide what to do with her, then."