[>=============================<[]>==============================<] Setting: Red Dragon's Inn, Montfort, Ifreann Time: A couple months following Louisov's mishap with the mage battle. Authors: Deborah Greene , Chewie [>=============================<[]>==============================<] [Louisov] Louisov woke in a cold sweat gasping for breath as he had every morning for the past two months. Nightmares had plagued him ever since his mishap with the mage and druid outside Montfort, strange nightmares. He had once seen a dream come to life in the common room of the Inn. A beautiful and dangerous woman had found his heart, something he had long ago burried deep inside, and broke it before his eyes. That same woman, or one remarkably similar, had visited the Inn shortly after his nightmare. Perhaps that was what kept him away from helping her out during her time of distress. Not that it was of any consequence. She was attractive enough to lure every lustful male in the Inn to fight for her cause. Other than the odd sense of deja vu, it was an unremarkable event. More remarkable was his realization of the changes happening to him as a result of the event two months ago. Had he not been napping under the shade of a cedar tree, he would not have been caught by the backlash of the druid's spell. The druid had been fighting a black robed mage, a classic struggle between the magic of life and the magic of death. Louisov had the unfortunate luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Slowly, he was beginning to understand the changes overtaking his body and mind. Just last week, he had been jumped from behind by a group of ruffians in search of a quick dollar. The blow he had taken to his neck and shoulder should have dropped him like a rock. Instead, to the chagrine of the assailant, it only bruised Louie. Louie chastized himself at the memory of his carelessness. He shouldn't have let his guard down, but he had managed to give his assailants a few lumps to remember him by. The ruffians learned that day that not everyone was as they seemed, and he had learned a little about his new condition. He grimaced as he tried to sit up off of the damp bed sheets, his body stiff as usual. Perhaps it was well that he retired from scouting, he certainly felt old. He stood and stretched the soreness out of his muscles and the kinks in his back. Feather beds were nice, but he was still felt more comfortable on a cot or even the ground itself. After tugging on his clothes, loose fitting pants and tunic, he examined what was left in his money purse. Two gold coins, three silver, and a handful of copper. It would last him a while, especially if he left the comfort of the Inn. Besides, he thought, it's about time for me to find this druid and have a little man-to-man chat. Louisov made his way to the common room of the Red Dragon's Inn. Sera smiled and gave him a nod as he sat down, and shortly thereafter, placed a plate of eggs, smoked ham, and potatoes before him. She smiled as she set down the pitcher of water and winked. "Sera, I think I'm going to check out soon and find that druid you spoke of yesterday. Sirdanlis?" His eyes searched hers for confirmation. She was a pretty woman -- one could almost say she was young -- yet there was wisdom in her eyes that spoke beyond her apparent youth. He could never put a finger on why, but he could have sworn that she had not changed in twenty years, the last time he had stayed in Montfort. She nodded and smiled. "Of course. I'll have Hugh total up your tab this afternoon if you like." He nodded and started in on his breakfast. He wondered if he'd find this druid. Perhaps it was the same one he saw in the magic battle. Then again, perhaps not. It didn't really matter, all he wanted was information; any druid would do, any mage for that matter. He surveyed the common room, smiling and nodding welcome to the other patrons. [Niorba] Then, he saw her, a woman lying heavily on the floor, looking as if she was coalescing out of the morning light shining through the bar window. She was a pale, tall-looking maid, one with almost -- equine features, including large horsey ears poking up out of her mess of wind-matted sable hair. She was dressed in lavish blue and green clothing, replete with boots that could have been lifted right out of a children's tale. Her ears lost some, and increasingly more of their horsiness as she became more substantial. They were entirely human, and entirely hidden by her hair, by the time deep red blood started to pool out from under her unconscious form. Not a soul but him seemed to have noticed her. [Louisov] Instantly, Louisov leapt up from his chair, knocking his breakfast to the ground. Falling to his knees, he skid to a stop before the prone maiden. He immediately began to probe her body for the offending wound. [Niorba] She lolled like a rag doll when he turned her over, hair and limbs spilling on the bloodied wood planks. The dweomer on her continued to unravel; light as dust when Louisov first touched her, she soon became a creature of substance, if less weight than her height suggested to the eye. And even that changed. She lost an inch and half of another when a ripple of what looked like moonlight danced under her skin. Blood continued to ebb from her chest, pulsing in time with the rapid beating of her heart. But there was no wound, no mark on her but a budding bruise on her left jaw. [Louisov] "Lady! Lady, can you hear me?" Louisov all but shouted to the woman, as he continued his search. "Hugh! Get some bandages quickly!" [Niorba] She opened her eyes. They were dull, leaden black in both iris and pupil, black that began to sluff off into thick tears. Clear, vibrant blue emerged as the black bled in greasy trails down her alabaster cheeks. "He is dead, isn't he?" she asked, hoarsely, squeezing her eyelids shut. Oil dripped from her lashes. [Louisov] Louie paused his probing for a moment to pick out someone from the crowd of onlooking patrons. "You! Go outside and search for anyone else wounded." He looked back to Niorba, whose oily tears dripped down her face, and asked, "Who? Who is dead?" And who -- what are you, he thought. And how the heck am I going to stop this damnedable bleeding! It just didn't make sense. How could this woman be bleeding if there were no wounds present? Hugh returned with some clean white towels and bandages, handing them to Louisov. "How's she doing, boy?" Boy? Louisov thought, incredulously. I'm old enough to be his older brother! "I can't find a wound, but I can't stop this bleeding!" Hugh nodded and knelt beside Niorba with a small crystal flask. He unstoppered the flask and held Niorba's head in his free hand. "Open up, Hon. This will help. It won't taste good, but it will help." He smiled confidently at Niorba. Louisov crossed his fingers. [Niorba] She shook her head, weakly, and lifted a hand against the flask Hugh offered. "Nn-no, no. Just ... let me sit up. Please. I need to breathe." Her chin drooped as she filled her lungs with air, slowly, holding it some before she expelled it. "There are good magicks here," she whispered. A few of the tears threading down her face dripped onto her elaborately embroidered blouse, staining it. More darkened the green linen when she wiped her eyes on a frilly cuff. "Strong magicks. Would my brother have had them around him." "It is morning," she observed, dully, looking at the light around her on the floor. Her invisible wound stopped oozing blood.