Ghost Train Out }{ Please Join. :(:(

[SerpenteDance]

The trays that Noriko carried to serve the costomers of a local tavern became heavier and heavier with each passing hour worked. It'd been like this for years. Travel for a few days, stop, earn some money. Though it was getting quite exhausting, Nori couldn't think about it.


Though Noriko's vision of her childhood is quite blurred;
She was borne in Arienh, healthy land in a stable environment with like demons. To ensure she did not become a brute as most were in the village, her mother spent much of her time imbuing the child with a love for the arts. She spoiled Nori with regular lessons in music and crafting and, while she showed great potential as a combatant, she seemed to gravitate towards the finer aspects of her mother's teachings from an early age. Thus, enduring a heavy curriculum from both parents, she spent most of her childhood and young adulthood striving for balance between the two conflicting fields.

There were tons of secerets being kept inside of her. Some...more obvious at certain points. But she preferred not to give that one away. Though it was kind of signifigant.

Noriko was a vision of perfection. Mostly because she was borne that way, but more so because it ranked in the tips. She floated gracefully from table to table, even making the ale in her hands look beautiful simply because she was handling it. A sidebang hid most of Nori's left green eye, the other exposed and vibrant. Her lips were soft and silky smooth, her blonde hair glossy. Perfect black streaks were stratigically aligned, but they weren't from being dyed. Noriko was a white tiger, and this color was simply natural.

Noriko put on her best smile, charm pulsing through her as she did her best to earn what money she could before she could continue in her journeys. It was the way life had to be, the consistant quest. She had a mission, she intended to complete sometime soon, but she began to wonder whether or not she could do it alone.

[SnwPtrl]

How long can these idiots keep chasing me!

Thought a very flustered and at the moment, a very sought-after-by-the-law Vetis Mayhew.
He had been running for the last fifteen minutes, barley avoiding the city guards as he fled through narrow streets grasping tightly to a small book that didn't really belong to him.

Vetis wiped sweat off his brow as he dodged through the narrow city streets. hastily looking to his surroundings, he speculated on his options...
He looked up, then shook his head. He wouldn't dare use his wings to fly away, the guards would shoot him right out of the sky with their arrows. At least in the streets they couldn't use projectiles in fear of hitting an innocent civilian.
He looked to his right, There was the market plaza, filled with merchants vending their goods...and plenty of city guards to go around.
He looked forward, saw another dead end, this time composed of a nice little contingent of guards sent to wait in ambush for him.
He looked behind him, he saw the fat guy he had tripped lying in the center of the street, blocking off his pursuers.
He looked to his left...
Bingo.

Vetis jumped, or rather dived into the open tavern filled with the random denizens of Tamasha...

[SerpenteDance]

Well. Some weren't citizens...some were simply on a mission, passing by. Noriko was a few feet away from the man that ran into the tavern and had to take a step back. She'd almost gotten scared and lost the tray full of fresh brews she was carrying. She set it down and looked at the man curiously, concerned. he looked like hed been through alot.

Noriko placed her hands on her hips, brow furrowed with genuine curiosity. " Are you... Okay?" She led him to a seat at the bar, attempting to get him to relax. " You look like youve journeyed through hell itself! Can I get you a fresh brew? What do you like? Something dark? Spiced?"

[SnwPtrl]

As soon as the shock from diving into the busy tavern had begun to wear off, Vetis started to scan the room.

Still breathing heavily, Vetis thought to himself. I need to find a large group of people and intermingle with them, I should be able to stay hi-

Before Vetis could finish his thought, a concerned voice directed at him interrupted his thoughts. He didn't really catch what the speaker had said but by the time Vetis whirled around to face the voice, he was being led to the bar by a waitress carrying a tray of drinks.

As he got sat down, Vetis could only widen his eyes in bewilderment as he realized how done for he was. Any of the guards that had seen him jump into the tavern would be sure to spot him sitting at the bar by himself.

When the waitress commented on how he looked and what he wanted to drink, he knew he was screwed. He had clearly made himself memorable to the waitress, thanks to the comment on his appearance. Vetis seriously considered pulling out the dagger from his sleeve and killing this idiot waitress for blowing his cover. At least it wouldn't be a total loss when he got arrested...

But then Vetis thought better of it. I can still get out of this! he told himself as he glanced at the door, looking for any guards that could enter at any moment.

Thats when Vetis had an idea. Facing the waitress, he forced a smile and asked in a sweet and polite voice "Could I get something dark? Whatever you have on tap will be fine. Thanks."
Then, as the waitress turned to fetch his order, Vetis muttered a few words, casting a quick illusion spell. A minute flicker of green light was emitted from Vetis as he wrapped himself in a layer of magic. The chameleon spell worked great and made the light that had been originally reflecting off his body ignore him and only reflect off the area behind him.

Vetis smiled to himself, all he had to do now was hope nobody noticed the translucent outline of himself climbing over the counter and crouching behind the other side, trying carefully not to bump into anything.

Thats just when three armed guards rushed into the tavern, bumping into one another as the lead one came to an abrupt halt. Vetis hoped their stay would be quick for his spell would only hold for the next two minutes...

[dandanscan]

a young cloaked man walks into the room and he sits himself in a empty table and pulls off his hood he's a young man innocent face but hi expression is almost blank. his eyes are a pale shiny emerald and his dirty blond hair sit in his face. he looks around and finally finds himself staring at the waitress her beauty seemed to ensnare his curious nature. He attempted to get her attention "Miss?"

[Shaher]

Shaher strode through the door, casting a passing glance at the guards bumbling around the tavern.
"They aren't after me for once, how...curious..."
He sat himself down at a darkened table, the dim light serving well to disguise his dirty white hair as he removed his hood, keeping his face low as to cover the jagged scars raked across his cheeks. He did his best to make the protruding lumps from his back less obvious but knew he was failing dismally, such was the curse of an angel, even a fallen one. The weapon at his belt knocked noisily against the table as he shifted his weight, settling down after narrowly escaping the neighboring villages own guards. he almost laughed aloud at their incompetence.
The tavern was fuller than he had anticipated, many of the slightly intoxicated patrons mumbling drunken songs or calling for more brew from the waitress, a siren perhaps? But no, they had better things to do with their time then serve ale to bearded fools in a scarcely lit, dingy trenches of society.
Sighing softly, he tipped his head to a passing platter of brew on legs and grabbed himself a drink, the air in the tavern was stirring to an extent that he knew something was going to happen, and was glad for once it would not involve the prospect of fight or flee from his part.

[Animus]

– The cool evening breeze toyed lightly with her hair as she walked, the dark brown curls kept apart from the solitary braid down her back bouncing and bobbing with the rhythmic motion of her gait. The cloak she kept slung over her left shoulder flapped to and fro, the leather worn thin and flexible. The evening was, even when considering the cool night air, fairly humid and she was grateful for her choice in clothing: brown knee-length trousers and an olive-green vest which, despite the thickness of the fabric used, came only to the edge of her shoulders and was only loosely laced at the neck by a thin cord of leather, leaving both her arms bare and keeping her body temperature at harmony with the humidity of the region.

As she walked along the narrow village street, her dappled hazel eyes flicked here and there in quiet observation, and a thin smile of contentment began to form on her lips.
Over her many years of traveling, Aran had made countless visits to quaint little towns such as this, yet she found Tamasha to be of a slightly different category. While equipped with all of the features necessary to be considered “quaint,” the little town also possessed a unique personality; the quiet street-front windows of the houses and shops, though smiling and inviting in the daylight, took on a darker, more sinister role by night. As with any normal town or city, Tamasha certainly had its share of well-kept secrets, only instead of trying desperately to hide them, it seemed quite up-front and honest about its imperfections. The colorful array of flower pots that hung beside each door or decorated storefront windows were cute, yet upon closer examination, were found cracked or chipped -flaws they didn't mind displaying.

”If only people were that honest with themselves, the world be a much better place,” Aran thought to herself as her feet carried her onward down the darkened, silent street. ”It's no secret that we all have our secrets, so it's a wonder how desperately some still fight to hide them.”

The evening was drawing onward, the sky overhead growing darker and the stars twinkling in their silent service to the glimmering half-moon's reign.
Her senses quickly pulled her from her state of detached reflection as she rounded a corner and was met with the warm, welcoming glow of lantern light, the soft murmur of distant voices, and the aroma of fresh-cooked stew.

Promising.

As she stepped over the threshold and lifted her face, the glow of the lanterns bathed her features in golden warmth, reflecting in her hazel gaze as she scanned the room and its faces of its inhabitants, her crooked smile faltering for but a moment before returning to her lips.

Finding a small, vacant table near the back of the room, Aran threw her
cloak over the back of one of the heavy wooden chairs, removed the shoulder sheath containing her cutlass, and readjusted the burlap satchel that she still had slung across her chest.

”Interesting crowd,” she thought as she made her way toward the bar, taking note of the bumbling guardsmen and the handful of curious, cloaked strangers seated in secluded corners at intervals around the room.

”Perhaps it's time for a drink. After all, I've nowhere else to be.” she decided, laying a shimmering silver coin upon the bar and motioning to the hovering beer maid making her rounds about the tavern.

“I'll have one of those, if you don't mind.” she said aloud.
She smirked slightly and with two thin fingers slid the coin across the bar to the tavernkeeper.

[Shaher]

The scene with the guards was growing dull, their incompetence seemed to know no bounds. What ever their goal once was, they had long forgotten in a desperate attempt to untangle their limbs and remove themselves from the scene of embarrassment.
His ale was long finished and as the tavern slowly filled he found that sitting in a dusty dark corner did little to attract the attention of the bar wench.
Sliding off his chair he stood and took on a stoop, hanging his cloak low over his belt to conceal his weapon before shuffling to a lighter part of the room. He took a seat next to a table being served and whistled at the waitress, gesturing he would like a drink.
The buxom woman turned and hesitated a moment before screaming and tossing the tray at his face. Confused, he whirled around to see if there was something behind him only to find his cloak, having been disguising his weapon, now lay his back exposed, and as such the stubs of his wings protruded grotesquely from his back.
Rolling his eyes and sighing in exasperation, he unfurled his wings, tearing his flimsy shirt in the process.
The guards, having finally removed themselves from themselves now turned to him, bardiches at the ready.
"The fugitive! Arrest him!"

Shaher unsheathed his blade and held it at the ready, not seeing any windows or a conveniently placed skylight, he saw only one means of escape.
The door.

[Animus]

– Everything seemed to happen in the very blink of an eye as the normal, level drone of voices broke and became an awful chorus of shrieks and bellows. The mug she had just received from the barkeep had, only one second prior, sat on the edge of the bar, its contents bubbling. The next second, Aran watched in stunned silence as it flew across the room, drenching the shrieking patrons in ale and landing with a crash -inaudible over the growing volume of voices- and shattering into a thousand small, glittering pieces.

“What the-?” Aran exclaimed, her eyes flicking back once more from their pursuit of the runaway mug to rest upon what seemed to be the center of the commotion – a black-haired man..with..wings? Yes, wings. Like a bird...but this was not a bird. This was a man.
A very alarmed man.

The subject of her bewildered observation stood in the middle of the crowd, not fifteen feet away from her position at the bar, and his great white wings twitched at his sides. Judging by their span, she determined it was he who had sent her draught on its crash course across the room.

As she watched with mounting anticipation the happenings at the center of the pub, Aran's gaze flicked here and there over the faces of those gathered there.
The guards, finally having undone themselves from their tangled mess of one another, appeared to have found their object of pursuit -the man, who in turn appeared to be quite taken aback, and in his surprise he had drawn a blade in defense. The other occupants displayed a various range of expressions, from the logical look of fear to the entirely detached smirk -the face of one far too gone with liquor to concern themselves with anything beyond the sweat accumulating on their collection of empty mugs.

Taking a moment to consider her own expression, logically one of bewildered surprise and curiosity, Aran then shifted her concern to her current position. Needless to say, she quickly deemed it both far too close to the winged creature at the center of the room and far too..well, far away from the door of the tavern, which appeared to be the only available exit.
And her every instinct told her an exit was exactly what she needed.

With one last glance of astonishment and concern at the winged man, she turned heel and made her way as quickly as possible through the growing crowd to the corner table where she had previously deposited her equipment. Without a second's hesitation, she slung the sheathed cutlass over one shoulder and snatched up her cloak.

Hazel eyes ablaze, she made a bee-line for the door.

[Shaher]

Gathering his composure, Shaher rushed the guards with a flap of his wings to gain a sudden boost to his speed. Not wishing to spill blood, he knocked the first few to the ground before twisting his foot into the man next to him, knocking him aside. The odds slightly evened, the rest began bearing down on him, their bardiches brandished against him. His blade no where near long enough to attempt battle, he re-sheathed it and glanced around looking for an alternative. Dancing backwards as one of the guards lunged at his stomach, Shaher ducked under another wayward strike and rolled behind the bar. He waited for the guards to approach him behind the bar before spreading his wings and leaping over the bar and sailing through the air, barreling into an escaping patron before tumbling into the fresh air of the darkening night. Without waiting for the guards to catch their wits, he used the momentum of his roll to push himself into the air and soar over the rooftops. Glancing back at the direction he had came, he saw no pursuers, turning his gaze back to the direction he was flying he reacted to slowly to miss the chimney bearing down on him. He bounced off the chimney and crashed through a window, landing in a heap against the rooms far wall, head spinning with visions of dizzying stars.

[Animus]

– Her progress toward the door was hindered not only by the massive amount of people gathered near the entrance but also by her own two feet which, upon consideration, seemed to have taken on the weight of lead bricks. She moved in surreal, silent slow-motion and the ever-rapid rhythm of her heart resonated in her ears.
She had to get out of here, before things got ugly.

“Crazy town!” she thought to herself, tripping over a chair and colliding with a large, cloaked man seated nearby.

“I'm sorry! I'm-” she stammered, shuffling here and there trying to get around him and back on course for the door.

Just as she stumbled from the crowd and into the frame of the open door, something collided with her back, hitting her hard between the shoulders and thrusting her body forward onto the cobbled street beyond.
Pain seared through her shoulder and right arm as she heard the sharp 'snap' of her shoulder dislocating. Muffling a scream of agony, she attempted to steel herself and gather her things. The contents of her satchel had been scattered over the street before and her she scrambled in a crooked, painful heap to reclaim them.
Just as she reached for the last item -a tarnished gold compass- she heard the ominous sound of a hundred pairs of feet behind her, turning her head just in time to see the oncoming mob of people spilling out of the tavern door.
Still lying on the ground just feet from the pub's entrance, she was directly in the path of the oncoming crowd and winced and cried out as several pairs of heavy boots tramped around her, colliding with her bare arms and her newly wounded shoulder.
Steeling herself once more, she clung to her belongings and attempted to roll herself out of the way.
She managed, with great difficulty, to remove herself from the path of the trampling mob and only then did she begin to piece together what had just happened.
Watching the crowd of people still spilling out of the pub, led by the shouting guardsmen, she noted their upturned faces and followed their gaze.
There, circling high above the village, was the great winged man.

As she began to recall the events of the past five minutes, she realized that the heavy force that had collided with her in the doorway had indeed been this flying creature, apparently in as much haste to exit as she had been.

Fighting back a well of anger, frustration, shock, and the endless wave of pain that now racked her body, Aran's sight blurred and darkened as she slumped in an unconscious, crumpled heap along the alley beyond the bar.

[Shaher]

Shaher stumbled to his feet, using the wall to steady himself as he stood, only to be knocked back to the ground by a sharp blow to the side of his head. Fearful that the guards had caught up with him so soon, he groped around his belt for his weapon, grabbed the hilt and swung it clumsily in an arc towards the direction of the attacker.
As his vision began to settle, he noticed the attacker was a man, likely the household owner, wielding a heavy broom. Grunting, Shaher sheathed his weapon and rolled under the mans next attack, jumping out the window and landing on the roof of the opposite building. He turned his back on the cursing man and walked the distance of the roof to the edge and looked over upon the bustling streets. Gauging the distance to the city gates, he decided it was too risky to fly, and the guards would be on the lookout for a suspiciously cloaked man approaching the city limits. Instead, he would have to hide until the heat wore off...again. Last time he had hidden in this city, he had found ample room in the sewer lines but times had changed, the sewer entrances were guarded due to a rat infestation. He had few friends, and all of which would sell him out for a gold reward, so street houses were out. This would take careful consideration, and he'd have none of the luxuries a tavern would provide this time.