Becoming Ebonstryfe (Irriari)

[Verilian]

Timestamp: 65th of Summer, 511 AV Location: Tarsin's Boarding House The sun was going to rise soon and Irriari was on her way home. She wasn't necessarily tired, though that was surely one reason, but she also had the feeling she was being watched. She had felt it for several days now, ever since the night with the dark haired waitress, but no manner of searching turned up anything. It was probably rather odd for her, because she was usually the predator and the one doing the stalking. The only place she could feel safe was the boarding house, where each time she entered she felt the watching eyes fade away. But today was different. Something inside her told her that it would be different, that something was going to happen. It was like the feeling one got on a hunt just before the kill, only this time she felt like the prey. When she entered the boarding house she felt a little better, whatever was watching her did not follow her inside, but she still felt uneasy. The door to her room was unlocked. Had she left it that way? If she listened hard enough her keen ears might even pick up the calm breathing of someone inside. If Irriari lingered for too long she would hear a voice from within. "Come inside, if you value your life." Inside her room, leaning against the far wall, was a man. He wore a dark cloak, beneath which Irriari could see the gleam of black stained chainmail. A sword hung at his side, and in the center of his chest was a symbol, a white sun pierced with a black sword. The man pushed off the wall and took a step toward the Zith when she entered, holding his hands out to the side in a gesture of peace. The look in his eyes, however, suggested anything but. "I must say, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Korin, Paladin of the Ebonstryfe." Korin did a slight bow before taking another step forward. "It would seem you have angered one of my associates. He thinks I should clip your wings and make you a slave, but I feel you could be useful." Behind Irriari someone pulled the door shut, and of she tried to open it she would find it barred from the outside. Korin slowly drew his sword, a wickedly sharp cutlass that gleamed in the faint light coming through the window. "Attack me. Prove to me now you are worth saving, and then we will talk." If Irriari did not attack, Korin would. He was fast, and far more skilled than she, but she could tell he was holding back. Even so, it would be one of the most difficult battles of her life. OOCOkay, so this is your first thread with me. I like to let the players have a lot of freedom, so feel free to self mod the fight a bit in your posts. Korin has Cutlass 60, but he is not actually trying to kill you, just testing your skill. Make the fight difficult, but any attempts at a killing blow leave that for me to mod.

[Irriari]

Irriari walked home slowly, thinking all the while. It almost seemed worthless to try to use her night vision lately. There was a continuous presence that followed her throughout the city during the night, as if someone was watching her, and waiting for her to slip up. So far she hadn't slipped up too badly, either that, or her would be murderer was simply waiting for the most opportune time. She shook her head quickly, trying to rid herself of the paranoid thoughts that had become common place. Deep down, she knew something was following her, and her body agreed. The small hairs on the back of her neck were upright more often then they were flat. Whoever it was, she simply wished they would make their move and be done with it. The paranoia and nights of rough sleep were enough to drive anyone up a wall.

She breathed in deeply, ignoring the guards that patrolled the Nitrozian Plaza. While few of the armored soldiers seemed to like her, none had attacked so far, and she doubted they were the cause of her uneasiness. Finally, she was at Tarsin's Boarding House. The innkeeper was barely awake, and no patrons were in the common area. It was late for the humans, after all. A few steps down the hallway to the right and Irriari was greeted by the chipped wood of her door, and the simple brass lock and knob that adorned it. After fishing in her quiver for the key, Irriari attempted to unlock the door, but found it open. She knew that she had locked it before she left. Perhaps her attacker had finally gotten bold. It worried her that they knew where she resided, but this was Ravok, and for the right amount of money any knowledge could be bought.

The deep voice of a man greeted her as she pushed open her door. Her muscles tensed at the greeting, and she moved her right hand to her back so that she could access her bow quickly. It would be folly to shoot anyone in a room so small, but the bow provided a small measure of comfort. When she stepped inside, Irriari noticed the man who had spoken, and her eyes were drawn to the crest on his armor. This man was of the Ebonstryfe. Irriari shivered, and hated herself for the involuntary sign of weakness. Everything about the man, even the calm way in which he spoke set her on edge, and made her want to flee. A quick glance to the door confirmed her fears. The door was closed from the outside. In the best scenario, she would she had the Paladin, Korin to contend with, and also the person who had closed the door. The worst case scenario was more damning, if such a thing was possible. What could they want from her?

She stayed silent. While common courtesy dictated that she would at least introduce herself, she felt no need to stick to useless human customs when an armored man had broken into her house and was now threatening to cut her wings off. She grimaced at the thought and wondered who his associate was and how she had managed to anger him. The man commanded her to fight him, and she didn't hesitate for a moment, knowing that some sort of test had just begun. Prove herself, he had said.

She pulled the bow from her shoulder and threw it to the ground with her right hand and pulled her bulky poisoncrafting kit from her back with her left. It hit the ground with a thump, and she heard the telltale sound of glassware breaking from the inside. It didn't matter. Her nails had been coated in poison, as they had every night since she had first felt the odd sensations. Now, it was coming to an end.

Irriari dodged to the left of the room, towards the bed, before moving towards Korin. The mans armor would make it difficult for her poison to be used, and the cutlass was enough incentive to keep her away. But she had to attack him, otherwise, he could simply cut her down. Maybe she could get close enough that his cutlass would be too close to his own body for effective use. It was like fighting the drykas again, though she feared this man more than she had ever feared Vanator.

She lunged forward and tackled him, hoping to knock him to the ground. Even with all of her momentum, he hardly staggered, and instead, his body seemed to absorb the blow with infuriating ease. Was he laughing? He pushed her away as she tried to claw his face. She missed and swore loudly in zithanese. It was almost as if he was toying with her. The man was taller, stronger and better equipped than she. Intent on toppling him, somehow, Irriari, kicked out with her foot while pivoting slightly to the left. The movement was uncoordinated and sloppy, but she felt the bottom of her foot connect with his shin. The mountain of a man went down to one knee and his cutlass sliced at her calf, hard enough to tear open the skin, but not deep enough to permanently destroy any muscles.

Irriari screamed and withdrew her leg quickly, knowing it would be the last time she tried to kick anything for awhile. Stupid human fighting techniques. This was why her race had claws. She moved towards him again, knowing she had to get him to the ground, or disarm him somehow. One of Irriari's clawed hands went for his face, and the other for the hand that wielded the cutlass. The move was sloppy and desperate- a true reflection of her fear and panic. It left her wide open to attack, but still she tried, knowing that any nearly any pain would be worth the cost it took to get the blade away from him.

OOCHope this works!

[Verilian]

She did not hesitate. That was a good sign. The Ebonstryfe did not need people who took forever in deciding what to do. Korin's eyes followed her as she dodged toward the bed. She tried to tackle him but it was easy enough to absorb most of the damage and when she tried to take out his legs he simply fell to one knee and cut her. Her lack of skill was not surprising, but her ferocity was impressive. She could be trained to fight better, it was the heart behind it that mattered most of all. When none of her attacks seemed to be working Korin was finally able to see her true nature, the Zith behind the poisoner. Her attack was sloppy and unskilled as before, but this time she attacked with abandon using the weapons that nature had provided her. It was what he had been waiting for, desperation. Desperation would show him if she was worthy. Would she give in to fear and become a quivering mass? Would he have to dispose of her for her weakness, or would her survival instinct and rage give her the ferocity and strength she needed to fight on? Her attack was sloppy, yes, but it was beautiful all the same. Despite it's beauty, the attack was easily countered. Korin was merciless, and though he struck with the flat of his blade the edge still drew a line of blood in her arm. Reaching straight for the weapon was a rookie move, but he still had to deal with the claws coming toward his face. Easy enough, ducked and punched out with the hilt of his weapon, avoiding the blow and landing a hard strike straight to Irriari's gut. He sent her staggering back, but he was not done. Each side of her face was struck with the flat of the blade, leaving red marks and a line of blood on each cheek. Korin smiled and danced away from her, his eyes watching for her next move. Irriari was clearly outmatched, her only real hope was the poison coating her claws. But Korin was unconcerned, he doubted she would draw blood. It wasn't that the Zith wasn't skilled in her own way, Korin was just an experienced warrior and knew when someone was beat. Would she yield, or keep fighting? Was she a coward, or a fool? Which did he prefer? Oh, how fun this all was for the cruel Ebonstryfe. Even if he did have to kill her, he would enjoy cutting the wings from her back and waving them around in front of her face while she watched, helpless to stop him. In truth, Korin had grown bored with his job. This was the most excitement he'd had in quite some time. Hopefully the Zith could impress him and give him many more opportunities for fun. OOCUm.. just continue fighting. Korin is toying with you, trying to make you angry. He wants to see the bestial rage Zith are famous for.

[Irriari]

As the fight continued Irriari started to realize how skilled the Ebonstryfe was, and why the city feared them. She had seen the strung up mutilated bodies of those who had dared defy the will of Rhysol, but this type of fighting was different. Anyone could hack a body to bits. Fighting with the finesse that Korin demonstrated required training, time and a dedication to the art that Irriari had hardly ever seen in her colony. It was wonderfully amazing and also scary. This man, with his chainmail or without, would surely terrify her more than any Akalak warrior she had ever faced.

He was toying with her. The fact became more apparent by the second as she felt the blunt sides of his sword striking her again and again. Each time, it cut her and drew blood, but the message it sent struck a deeper chord than a stabbing wound. Each of those hits could have been a killing blow. Every minor slash could have been a gaping wound, and it would have taken no effort on Korin's part.

Korin countered her last attack with ease and moved away gracefully while the hilt of his weapon turned and was rammed mercilessly into her stomach. For a few seconds, all the air in the room was gone, and Irriari wretched as her stomach turned itself inside out. She grabbed onto the side of the dresser to steady herself, and her shaking legs. After a few painful breaths, her lungs were satisfied again and she glared at Korin, as she finally understood how he was going to fight.

He had turned the small room into a battle field that he could control from every angle. Irriari felt claustrophobic in the room, and her eyes darted around quickly looking for something to throw or use in her fight. Unless she intended to pick up the bed or desk, there was nothing that could help.

In her desperation and fear, the blood sight started to crowd her vision. Little else mattered but the enemy in front of her. In an instant, her mind was less concerned about her own bodily harm than destroying her enemy by any means possible. It was a dangerous predicament, and while it afforded the extra adrenaline many needed to continue on during intense combat, the reckless loss of all inhibitions had gotten many of her kind killed. Nothing else came close to the euphoria of the blood sight, and few things felt more empty than the fall from it. It was like leaving the caress of a sweet lover for a bed of nails.

At first, she tried to fight it. Air filled her lungs as Irriari lunged at him again, this time she simply tried to hit him, to get him to move. The lack of any evident damage was infuriating her. How could he simply dismiss her hits like they were nothing? Korin hit her harder now, forcing her back again and she was sent to the floor. Irriari gathered her legs underneath herself and snarled. For a small second, she let herself see him as prey. A human. A source of meat. That one second of the blood sight was too much, and she found herself lost in it. As she stood up, all thoughts of self preservation were gone, and every muscle and thought revolved around the target in front of her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins in combination with dopamine and endorphins.

Irriari attacked again, focusing solely on the man's unprotected face. The pain he would dish out didn't matter, and the agony she felt could be buried until her body refused to do her will. As she moved in, unconcerned about his blade, she aimed to punch him in the stomach with her left hand, and ravage the flesh of his face with her right. If she could land a hit, his skin would be shredded in moments. Few humans could understand that sort of pain, and most fainted as they brought their hands to the tattered mess of skin that had once been whole. If the hit failed, however, she would be completely vulnerable, as she was before. What did it matter? She yelled loudly in zithanese, cursing him and his family while she lunged forward.

[Verilian]

Korin smiled as she attacked him with wild abandon, allowing the blood sight to overtake her. This was what he had been waiting for, to see her let go and attack him with everything she had. To show her why people fear the Zith so much. It wasn't enough, of course, as Korin quickly demonstrated. Her attack left her wide open. Her punch connected with his chainmail but it only made him grunt, the armor absorbing most of the impact. She went for his face, but her lower body was wide open. Korin dropped and performed the same move she had tried earlier, kicking out and sweeping the legs from beneath the already off balanced Zith. He rose as she fell, and could not help but wonder what sort of damage her claws might have done had he been a lesser opponent. Truly the Zith are Rhysol's children, he thought to himself. Their blood rage was chaos, and whether they knew it or not they served the defiler in every time the succumbed to it. She was a glorious creature, Irriari, but the time for appreciation was over. Before she could serve Rhysol, she had to be broken. She had to be humiliated. It was the way of the Ebonstryfe, and no matter how impressive or beautiful her fury was, Irriari would be no exception. When she tried to rise Korin stamped down on her back, right between her wings, pushing her back to the ground. When she tried to rise a second time he let her get just a little further, but when she reached her knees she felt his boot connecting with the side of her face. She might have even lost a tooth from the kick, and she was lucky she held onto her consciousness at all. Luckily it was only leather, and not steel toed. Before she could try to rise a third time Irriari felt a shock of pain and heard a loud thunking sound as Korin stabbed his sword into the floor... going right through Irriari's right wing. It was a small wound, and it would heal up in time, but if she tried to struggle she would risk cutting a larger hole and possibly never flying again. Korin stomped down on her other wing with his left foot, then knelt on her back straddling her. He reached down and grabbed the Zith's hair, yanking back her head, and Irriari felt the cold steel of a dagger pressed against her throat. Korin lowered his head next to hers, she felt his breath against her cheek, and he whispered softly. "What is your fate, Irriari? Are you to be punished, made into a flightless slave like my associate demands? Or are your crimes against his precious barmaid merely a taste of what you could do if I let you live? Tell me, do you deserve Rhysol's mercy? His love? Do you want it?"

[Irriari]

The blood sight may have been invigorating, but Korin quickly demonstrated how quickly a trained warrior could destroy the wonder and euphoria that came with the heightened sense of being. He mirrored her actions with a deadly precision that made her attacks seem like childs play. His foot darted out and toppled her. Irriari reached upward, grasping at nothing in an attempt to save herself from falling. Her shoulder hit the wooden planks of the floor first, then her head with a resounding crack that sent stars across her vision. As the rest of her body fell, Irriari saw Korin standing up. Fear consumed her body in a tidal wave and she tried to move away by crawling towards the bed. If she could only place a few more feet between them, maybe she would be able to rise and continue fighting.

It wasn't meant to be. A shadow fell across her vision, and in that instant, the blood sight and rage were obliterated by her stronger, fiercer opponent. Irriari thought that the shadow foretold her death, though her anger at it was a fraction of the rage she had held earlier. What would the Elders have said if she died in a hotel room, on her stomach, at the mercy of a human? Their insults empowered her and rang in her mind as she felt Korin's boot slam into her upper back where her wings were connected. The voices died as her vision went black for a moment, and then she saw only the splintered wood of the floor boards. She had almost passed out from the pain, and though it wasn't as sharp as the initial hit, her body was still in agony. She bit her lip to avoid screaming, but a muffled whimper escaped her mouth as she tried again to fight past the pain and stand. This time, she pushed herself up by her hands, throwing all of her strength into her palms in a vain attempt to attack him again. She couldn't be killed like this.

As her hope was starting to return, she felt his boot again, this time, against the side of her face and mouth. The sole of the boot cut open the her cheek and blood poured down onto the floor as she bit her lip again, tearing it open. She couldn't contain the scream of pain that echoed throughout the room as one of her teeth got dislodged from the force of the kick and joined the growing pool of blood beneath her face. Irriari's hands clenched together, and she willed herself to rally the strength to try again. The pain was no longer localized to her face, and everything from her bruised stomach, to the taxed muscles in her arms and legs screamed at her to stop, and begged her to rest. But there was no rest to be had, for his blade pierced through the soft flesh of her right wing into the floor with a metallic clang that sent vibrations through the tender wound.

She screamed again, a long drawn out sound that continued for a few seconds until she had no air left in her lungs. A gasping breath followed as her whole body shook and tried to deal with too much pain that endorphins and adrenaline simply couldn't compensate for. The shaking began in her hands and spread to her arms and legs as tears ran down her swollen face. The involuntary spasming tore open the wound from her wing even further and she screamed again, as Korin's wretched boot pinned her other wing to the ground. She could hear small bones snapping and felt the pain from them as her left wing flapped once and fell to the floor, defeated as she was.

Korin's hand reached down and found the base of her scalp and pulled at the hair he found there. The tendons in her neck were pulled taut as her forced her head up while straddling her back. Each breath of air caused more blood to run down her face, whenever the angle of her neck allowed her to get enough to sustain herself. She whimpered again, loudly, until a cold blade pressed against her neck. She had seen many tortured with a similar technique. If they moved or spoke, the muscles in their neck would contract and press against the blade. They would cut themselves over and over unless they could muster the self control to be quiet and still. A thin line of blood gathered along the blade as she continued to struggle for air.

"What is your fate, Irriari? Are you to be punished, made into a flightless slave like my associate demands? Or are your crimes against his precious barmaid merely a taste of what you could do if I let you live? Tell me, do you deserve Rhysol's mercy? His love? Do you want it?"

Irriari's whole body shook as he suggested again, that her wings should be cut off. She had no doubts that he would do it, and with a swift efficiency that bordered on maniacal. Her words were a mess, and they hardly sounded like common to her own ringing ears.

“I don't know if I deserve it. I know nothing of the gods and their p-plans.”

She stuttered but continued,

“I do want this. I c-can prove myself. I want to be a part of the Ebonstryfe. I'll do anything the God commands.”

As she heard herself finally speak the words that she had known to be true Irriari clenched her hands. Rhysol's city was filled with chaos, and through her time in Ravok, she had seen the manifestations of the gods will. It was the closest thing to truth she had found, and she was tired of being weak. If she could be a part of that strength and chaos, she would do anything. Memories of Sevrai, Vanator and her captors in Ravok filled her mind. She was weak here as well, but for once, she had stood for herself with reckless abandon, and even if Korin killed her now, he could not take the pride she had felt away.

[Verilian]

Tense silence followed Irriari's words, broken only by her labored breathing. The edge of the knife scraped against her throat as she breathed in and out, scratching the skin but not cutting through. And then it was gone, and Korin let her head drop as he released his grip on her hair. The weight from her back and left wing lifted as he stepped off, and a moment later the sword was pulled out of the floor freeing her right wing. She could hear the metallic sliding sound as he sheathed his weapon, and heard his footsteps as he walked away. The creaking of the springs in the mattress told her that Korin had moved to her bed, and if she looked he would find her sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her to rise. When she finally did he tossed something to her, a small vial of some kind of clear gooey substance. "Spread that over your wounds. It will help to heal them. You are of no use to the Ebonstryfe if you can't function." Korin waited to see what the Zith would do. Her reaction truly wasn't all that important. If she applied the salve it meant she was intelligent enough to realize that if Korin wanted her dead he would have killed her already and not bothered with poison. If she chose not to apply the salve it showed that she didn't trust him, which was perfectly understandable and also showed intelligence. Whatever Irriari chose to do, it did not really matter, Korin's words would be the same. "You claim you want to be a part of the Ebonstryfe, yet you know nothing of the god we serve?" Korin rose from the bed and paced in front of it. "I take great personal risk giving you a chance. But you intrigue me. You are not the first Zith to show interest in the Ebonstryfe, though the last was a half-blood. Your actions the other night angered the wrong people, but it is my choice what happens to you, not theirs." Korin stopped pacing and turned to face the Zith. His eyes roamed her body for the briefest of moments, curiosity more than desire reflected within. "If I give you the chance, you will have to prove your worth beyond the walls of this room. You may even loose your life before ever becoming one of this. But before I offer you the chance, I want to know why? What makes you want to be one of the Ebonstryfe? Is it power? Or perhaps you wish to belong to something greater? What is your reason, when you know so little?" OOCJust a quick post. Still trying to figure out what the hell I want your quest to be, lol.

[Irriari]

Irriari's head hit the wooden floor first as the pressure from her scalp was released. She let it lay there for a few moments as the weight was lifted from her wings and then her back. More blood poured from the gash in her wing as the blade was pulled from the floor board and sheathed in its case. Irriari quivered for an instant and tried to still the shaking in her wings with little success. She swore quietly and gritted her teeth against the pain as she shook and tried to sit up. After a chime, with her hands firmly pressed to the ground, she managed to push herself up enough to sit, though she dared not stand until she stretched her wings out. When she was finally brave enough to try it, her wings spread out as expected and folded back as they should, but the throbbing pain caused by the puncture wound was constant.

As her senses were slowly starting to return, a small vial was tossed in her direction. Her ability to move and react quickly was still impaired to some extent, but she managed to catch the vial with the tips of her clawed fingers. A precursory glance at the outside of the vial told her little, and Korin's expression had not changed since he had thrown it. He informed her of the vials purpose, but she was wary and exhausted. While seeing a doctor the next day was an option, most if not all worked for the Ebonstryfe and out of anger they could do more harm than good to her tender wings. Irriari uncapped the vial and smelled the contents, though she couldn't recognize the foreign aroma as any of the plants she had grown accustomed to in Cyphrus. The vial was flipped on end while she held one clawed finger firmly against the opening. After half a chime, the slight tingling that most contact poisons produced wasn't apparent, but that didn't mean the mixture he had given her was safe. Masterfully brewed poisons had variable effects that would set in at different rates, and if this poison numbed her skin in the slightest, she would have no idea that poison was slowly taking hold of her body.

Regardless, she poured most of the mixture into her palm and rubbed around the inflamed and bloody gash. The liquid burned immensely on contact, but it seemed to cool after a few seconds, which was relieving. The smallest portion that was left in the glass was applied to her face and neck, as the minor scratches needed to be tended to as well.

Korin paced in front of the bed, obviously lost in thought as he half questioned her and mused to himself aloud. It was unnerving to hear him discuss her fate so nonchalantly, as if she was simply an expendable token to be gambled this way or that, depending on the odds. His questions were prefaced by the horrible truths of the Ebonstryfe recruitment process which she had already heard bits and pieces of. Still, hearing it from a paladin, and seeing the devastation he could cause, it shocked her more than the fanciful tales of any drunk in a tavern. For a moment, she wondered what kind of human Korin had been before the Ebonstryfe, but then, her attention was focused back to the question at hand.

“I want to be a part of something greater, and something that is powerful. Rhysol is the only god whose work I have seen in reality. The rest are little more than stories to me. I miss the atmosphere of being in a group that has dominion over what they choose and the strength to back it up. I would rather risk losing it all than die alone in this city as a coward.”

While it was hardly eloquent, it was the truth. Now, Irriari was too exhausted to care about how beautiful her words sounded or even whether or not her common was perfect. The colony had filled a niche that nothing on her own had come close to, and while she hated the others who resided there, every part of her longed for the camaraderie that she had lost. In Ravok, every man and woman seemed to be alone, no matter how many neighbors that were a few feet away from them, and Irriari knew that after awhile, the lack of interaction with others would eat away at her until she snapped.

[Verilian]

"Very well." Korin had not responded for some time, still pacing, and those two words were as final as any Irriari had ever heard before. The paladin turned and strode towards her, but when he reached the Zith he continued onward right past her and to the door. He knocked twice, and the shuffle of footsteps outside signaled they were still not alone. The door opened and Korin leaned out, speaking in a whisper. A human wouldn't have been able to hear him, but Zith ears were far more keen than any human's. "She has passed the first test. We will continue." "Yes, my lord." "Do you have the papers?" "Right here, my lord." "Good, now go and wait for my return." Korin closed the door softly and locked it from the inside, then turned back to face Irriari. In his hand he held a scroll, or perhaps it was several scrolls rolled into one. He walked past Irriari and returned to his seat on the bed, flipping the scroll over and over idly in his hands. "This was but one test, Irriari. It takes many to become one of the Ebonstryfe. And many more to earn Rhysol's favor. But I am giving you a chance to become a part of us. In this scroll is a name, and information. Bring us the man by this name, return him here to this place. He must be alive and able to speak, but beyond that his condition is of no importance." Korin stood, dropping the scroll on the bed, and walked past Irriari a third time returning to the door. He paused for just a moment, glancing back at the battered Zith. Hopefully she would not prove a waste of his time, he thought to himself before unlocking the door and exiting into the hall. If Irriari thought to mention the fact that she could not read he would only smile and say, "Well then, that makes your test all the more challenging now, doesn't it?" OOCPM on the way

[Irriari]

“Very well.”

The paladins words were blunt and short, and Irriari hardly knew what to make to make of the statement. Such words could precede a quick death or a swift friendship, though she hoped the former of the two would not be her fate. The latter of the two just seemed plain unlikely.

Korin stepped towards her, and bravely, she tried not to shake, though the memories of her defeat were fresh in her mind. Her pride was off somewhere far away, licking its wounds. As quickly as the warrior had stood up, he was headed towards the door, and shortly after two knocks, it swung open and Korin spoke to whomever had been guarding the door. While Irriari wanted to catch a glimpse of the person who had barred her exit, she knew that Korin would probably be quick to anger if she did, so she waited and listened instead.

Their voices were low and Irriari only caught a word or two here and there, that when strung together made no sense at all. Her senses were weakened from the battle, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep even though the night was still relatively young.

When Korin returned to the main part of the room after a half chime longer he faced her before returning to sit on the bed, where he told her what she had hoped for, but didn't allow herself to believe until now. She had made it through the first test! Korin continued on, detailing what her next task involved.

When handed the scroll, Irriari stared at it and snarled. She couldn't read, and she no longer had Sevrai to translate. Somehow, before anything else was planned, she would have to decipher the squiggly lines on the page that would determine her fate. It was somewhat sad that her very fate would be read to her by a human, but for now, her room was a mess and she needed to sleep. Irriari drug her poisoncrafting kit over to the right side of the bed, and placed her bow and quiver on the other so both would be within easy reach. When she finally found herself on top of the firm mattress, sleep came quickly, though she dreamed of Rhysol's rage at her failure and suffered through many horrible deaths because of it until she awoke, drenched in sweat.

OOCThanks, V!