(Previous posts that lead to the meeting.)
Atlantian NPC:
Mrs. Butcher nods.
"Yes, the food here has always been excellent."
All of a sudden, there's a cry from outside. A man's voice, shrill and panicked. A sailor, covered in blood, stumbles through the door.
"Help! Help! I've been attacked!"
Blood soaks his back, where his shirt seems to be cut apart. Deep cuts show through the holes in the fabric, and they look rather...odd. Not as though he was simply slashed or stabbed.
Giplor:
Two of the men with Giplor rushed to the wounded man. They quickly poured alcohol on the wounds and began to dress them with any cloth they could. With battlefield medic training from The Phoenix State, they knew what they needed to do till they can get them to a doctor.
As for Giplor and the other man ran outside with a knightstick and brass knuckles. They chose their cqc weapons till they knew what to expect.
Garbed as regular soldiers, nobody would really think anything of them. In truth, both were Paladins.
As the soldiers bandage him, they would realize with a start that it wasn't some random slashing. Words were carved into the man's back. In cursive.
Atlantian NPC:
Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you're enjoying my little tea party. Such delicious red tea...I love it. Who will be next? Who knows. The barmaid was so noisy, though. You people must learn to be quiet.
The man groans.
"Someone threw a sack over my head and cut my back to shreds...like he was drawing something. What did he do to me?"
Nereida:
Men rushed outside with weapons drawn, and indeed, one man was already outside with a spear in his hand. In the darkness, Nereida stood in shadows, yet unseen. She drew in a deep breath through her nose and could smell mortal blood. It instantly made her mouth water and she could feel her teeth beginning to slice through her gums behind her row of "mortal" teeth.
She put a hand over her lush mouth and closed her eyes, her long lashes like fans against her high cheek bones as she sought for calm. Once she found it and felt her shark's teeth receding so there was not but a pretty mortal's smile, she stepped from the darkness and to the men with the weapons.
A frown gently stole over her lips as the COMPLETELY nude woman stared at them. It was obvious that she was soaked from head to toe, her long black hair with its waterlily all that she wore. Her skin was pale and white beneath the moonlight, glistening for a moment as if made from scales. Breasts, ripe and full were hidden behind her dark hair, but her svelte belly, her wide hips and long legs-- it was all bare to the eyes.
And her feet. Why, they were covered in blood, as she had followed the trail of the wounded man right to this tavern...
Edyrian:
Edyrian wasn't surprised in the slightest when the armed men rambled out of the tavern. It was, after all, a perfectly reasonable response to a person being attacked outside. What caught him off guard was the gorgeous woman who walked out of the same alley the injured man had come out of, lacking clothing of any sort.
There were times whe he was appreciative of his gifts, and today was one of those. The woman was positively soaked in some form of unfamiliar magic. That, in itself, was rather intriguing. Edyrian didn't often run across sorts that he couldn't identify.
Banishing the last remnant of exhaustion from his mind, he kicked it into gear. This looked rather terrible, it had to be said. The woman had just come out of the same alley, was tainted with magic, and seemed to have no fear whatsoever of all the people lugging weapons around.
His eyes swept over her again, Edyrian having to force himself to focus past her prominent charms. She was sopping wet, obviously. The blood was restricted to her feet. This seemed odd to him; the man who had dashed by was in a terrible state, so surely the attacker would be stained red head to toe. The water would have been able to wash the blood away, true enough, and there was plainly nothing to stain. A quick dip would obscure most all the evidence. Despite this, Edyrian had a hard time imagining attacking a person who had escaped during the assault, then stripping down to take a bath and pursuing them once finished.
Deciding to give the woman the benefit of the doubt, he unclasped his cloak and tossed it to her.
"Here, miss. Cover yourself up. If you wouldn't mind, could you explain to these men why you are here? I'm sure they'd love to know."
Despite his reasonably friendly actions and tone, he kept a firm grasp on his spear. The situation was volatile, and he didn't want to be caught unprepared if a spark should catch.
Nereida:
She saw people looking, and that put a frown for a moment over her face. Why were they looking?
One of the men-- the man with the spear-- undid the cloak that was 'round his neck and tossed it to her. Not realizing that she was supposed to catch it, it drifted to the floor at her bloody feet and she looked down at it, and then up at him.
She looked at him, and then her gaze narrowed, as if looking at him closely. She turned her beautiful, dark gaze onto the other men and saw that they wore cloaks much the same as Edyrian had, and wobbling a little on her feet, she crouched down to pick the cloth up in her hand.
Her dark hair swayed with the movement, revealing more silken flesh, more delectable curves until she was standing again. Goosebumps traced over her body with the cold chill of the air, and once more studying the way the other men had there's, she did the same, anchoring it around her throat and drawing it over her shoulders.
Edyrian's warmth was still against the garment, and she seemed to cuddle into it, as if accepting its warmth. Now the mermaid was almost completely covered, no flesh, no curve, no temptation to be seen but for a beautiful face above and bloody toes beneath.
And she did not speak a word.
The knee-jerk reaction for Nereida when she was around men was to sing them and bring them to their doom. Just being near them seemed to remind her of how good their flesh tasted against her tongue and lips. The memory had her pressing her mouth firmly together, as she once more fought the urge of her serrated shark's teeth from emerging through the gums behind her "regular" teeth.
The helmed knight asked her questions with a tilt of his armored head... and she responded in kind, tilting her own dark head to match his. She found his helmet fascinating, and walked towards him as he stepped towards the door of the tavern.
Her dark gaze traveled away from him and to the warmth that seemed to beckon from within the tavern. Nereida did not even hesitate, but she swept past him, the scent of the sea on her long dark hair as she moved into the room with only a cloak and a waterlily as garb.
She looked around the sea of faces that were looking back at her, and then saw the fire in the hearth. Eyes brightening, she turned and flashed a beautiful, sparkling smile (of regular pearly whites) full of guilelessness joy to Edyrian, then slipped through the crowd to kneel at the hearth and stare at the flames inside of it.
Fletcher:
The bar patrons all turn in unison to stare at the barely-covered, beautiful woman who just entered. They start murmuring to themselves.
"Who is she?"
"I've never seen anyone like that in town."
"Is that blood?"
Some of the younger men stare hungrily at her, while women click their tongues to get their husbands to look away. Some patrons look at the soldiers, as to beg them to do something. Mr. Baker the bartender keeps scrubbing his mugs. When Edyrian asks his question, the injured man looks up.
"No. It was dark, and I didn't get a good look before the sack went over my head, but he definitely wasn't shaped like that. It was a man. Or a flat-bodied woman. Not her."
Nereida:
She didn't seem to care one way or the other about anyone else in the tavern. She was entranced by the dance of the flames, a sight she had only seen once before when lightning had struck a ship and caused it to go up in flames. She and her sisters had eaten very well that night.
She had lifted a hand and was about to reach out to touch the fire when she FELT as if the entire attention of the room was on her back. She hesitated, pulling her hand back to look in the direction of Erydian and the wounded man. ... And apparently of the rest of the tavern.
Why were they all staring at her? She had a cloak now! Didn't she seem like one of them?
And then, suddenly, she was all too aware of the heady scent of blood in the air. Her dark eyes seemed to blacken like those of a shark, and while it was off putting, it did nothing to detract from her other-worldly beauty.
She stood up and walked over to the man, and without hesitation, she wrapped her milky white arms around the wounded man and pressed her naked, curvy body close. No one could know it, not really, but snakes had a habit of doing this when they'd found their prey-- of pressing close as if to measure if the prey would be easy to devour in one bite or two.
And no doubt, this was awkward for everyone watching, yet as Nereida sank into the kiss and the man himself also sank deeper and deeper, the wounds on his back, the markings that the killer had left there seemed to be mending and healing right before everyone's eyes.
Unless someone pulled her back prematurely, Nereida's kiss would continue until she herself drew away, smiled at the wounded man as if they hadn't just tongue-locked, and drifted back to the hearth to look at the flames once again.
Edyrian:
The helmet tipped into yet another nod, this time aimed at the injured man. There were only so many motions through which a person could express themself with one on, after all. "Thank you, sir."
Unless some of the magic he could see sticking to the woman was illusory in nature, this probably put her in the clear. Judging that even if she were a murderess she'd avoid attacking someone in this crowded of a space, he felt secure enough to remove his helmet. He promptly tucked it under his arm.
Edyrian watched the healers work. He had seen a fair share of wounds, himself. It was clear to him that this man would likely be scarred for life, and he'd be lucky to get away without permanent muscle damage. Fate was cruel to some.
He turned his attention away and listened to the buzz of conversation around him. Serial killings, laments for the dead, the foreign nature of the woman, family troubles, and other such things bathed over him. Serial killings, eh? Perhaps he could be of assistance.
His silent, detached information gathering was interrupted as his focus shifted. That strange woman had gotten up and was heading over to the injured man. Her features were ever-so-slightly different, a somewhat inhuman slant to her facial structure. While curious, he decided that the best way to get answers was to not interfere, to see what she would do.
Her actions took him completely by surprise, yet again. She pressed herself onto the man and locked her lips with his. Forgetting the decision he had made mere moments earlier, Edyrian started forward with the intent to pull her off.
The magic inside her seemed to flare, and the man's injuries began to shrink and seal. By now completely flabberghasted, his feet stopped carrying him forward. Definitely best to sit back and watch, now. In a matter of moments, the man was completely healed.
A chord sparked in the rusty attic of his memory. She certainly wasn't human; the shift to her features had made that plain. Was there a legend of a creature that could heal through a kiss? He felt as if there was, but the information floated just out of his grasp. He'd have to look it up later.
Whatever the case, this relevation somewhat explained her earlier behavior. She seemed unfamiliar with some basic human niceties, but how far did that extend?
As he watched her return to the fire, the knight considered the irony. His life centered around the pursuit and oftentimes removal magical beings, and here was one he was unfamiliar with. This one, unlike most he ran into in his profession, seemed relatively... friendly wasn't necessarily the word, but she certainly didn't seem evil or possessed of the intent to harm others. No, considering her display, it was quite the opposite.
Judging from her ealier outfit's noticeable lack of purse or pockets (or cloth), she was likely suffering from a distinct lack of coin. He was far from rich, but he could certainly afford a meal or two.
Resting his spear on his shoulder, he weaved across the room, heading to the hearth. He considered getting her attention with a tap on the shoulder, but his paranoia was far too ingrained for any sort of physical contact with a mysterious being possessed of unknown magic, as nonthreatening as it may be. He settled with standing a bit to her side, within her peripheral vision.
"Excuse me, miss. I notice your lack of funds. Could I buy you a meal, perhaps? How long has it been since you last ate?"
Nereida:
She returned to the fire, not because she wanted to, but because she knew that if she planned on not killing anyone -- for she DID know that mortals were terribly offended when one of their own were killed off-- then she'd need to learn to control her appetite.
Bundled in Edyrian's cloak, she was aware that the people must be whispering about her but she didn't know the appropriate way to... respond. It was frustrating her a little, and when Edyrian himself came towards her trundled-up outline, he'd be able to see that she wasn't looking so entranced with the flames anymore.
He spoke, and she lifted her beautiful face to look up at him, the glow of the fire glimmering off of the faintly golden scales high on her cheek bones and above her dark, deep eyes. Although she noticed (even with a bit of shock) that he was handsome enough, she still frowned at him, too.
She and her sisters possessed the ability to sing, but every song was a song of enchantment and none of the words were ever spoken in a language that mortal men could understand. Watching his lips move, listening to him, she hesitantly whet her own lips with the tip of her pink tongue.
"...A...aayt?"
Twisting around a little, she once more looked at the man that had been attacked by the killer and how he was touching his back, marveling that he'd been completed healed. She gestured to him, and then looked back at Edyrian. "Ayt?"
He'd not accompanied the words with any gestures, merely the unintentional arrogance of most humans would understand. Nereida had learned a new word, but she had no idea what it meant.
Atlantian NPC:
The crowd lets out a collective gasp as Nereida kisses the man. Who is this woman? A succubus? One man steps forward hesitantly, but then realizes that the man's wounds, which should have scarred him for life, are being healed right in front of his disbelieving eyes.
"Who...what...?"
He stares at the woman, then at his drink. What has he been drinking? He gives a quick glance around the room, as though to say "are you all seeing this?" The nodding people reassure him somewhat, and he takes another drink.
"Mmmph!"
The victim of the brutal attack tries to struggle at first, but is too weak. When she breaks away, he feels his back and realizes, to his shock and amazement, that he's completely healed.
"You...you're a goddess!"
He gets up onto his knees and grabs her hand, kissing it.
"Thank you...thank you so much..."
He turns to Mr. Baker, who's been polishing a single glass for neatly fifteen minutes at this point.
"Get this...goddess your finest, please! She saved my life!"
Mr. Baker vanishes for a moment and returns with a seared swordfish stake and a bottle of imported wine. He places the plate and bottle in front of Nereida.
"Yours."
He points to her.
"Eat."
He mimes an eating motion. Confident that she understands, he then returns to behind the bar. It's not his first time dealing with foreigners.
Nereida:
The mermaid was startled out of her brief conversation with Erydian when the man she healed came towards her and grasped her hand. Part of her cloak fell over her shoulder, revealing her side of naked curves, breast, hip, thigh, and the drape of her sable hair.
The Healed Man kissed the back of her palm with enthusiasm, and proclaimed her a goddess. She didn't understand the words, but she understood the tone and she smiled at him, a little dazed by the attention. Nereida drew her hand back to her again, the cloak sliding over her body to shield it once more.
Mr. Baker arrived with the meet and wine, and Nereida's eyes almost went as black as a shark's once again. Her mouth watered, and she reached for the swordfish steak with both hands, lifting it off the plate and immediately began to devour the meat with gusto.
Giplor:
Giplor would follow behind the others after searching the entire area outside of the tavern for anything. As expected, they found nothing but wet footprints from the woman. Unlike the others, Giplor was one of few who had any idea what creatures called these lands home. During construction of the structures on the water, him and his men had thought they seen merpeople. What puzzled him was whether or not they could walk on land. He knew of a darker mer people that were known ro lure men in with music and devour them. The crime did not fit the creature, even if he could prove such.
The two returned in the tavern and went to the other two soldiers. The two would brief Giplor on the situation and what had occured while they inveatigated. It wasn't much, but information was information.
Giplor order his men to return to casual dining and drinking. Giplor himself would go to the new woman. He couldn't sing, but he had faced enough Siren to know their language.
He would move to the new woman, move his mouth near her ear, and whisper in Siren, "Not sure if you can understand me, but I am Giplor Vauc'Tutt, and we need to talk..."
He would pull back from her and look into her eyes. If she looked into his, she'd see the purest of blue eyes and a sincere smile. He had nothing bad against her, but he did need to have a few answers from her about herself and where she's from.
"Someone bring me a shot of Ta!" he shouted while he waited for her response.
Nereida:
The meat was delicious and melted over her tongue, her rows of teeth behind the "normal" ones making it easy to swallow the entire thing down gargantuan bite after gargantuan bite. Her fingers were slick with the oils and spices that the swordfish steak had been prepared in.
She paused in her eating when she heard the ugliest of words spoken in her ears; the Siren's Song was not meant to be spoken by any but a Siren, and try and speak it away from the sea seemed a sacrilege. Even so, she understood the poorly spoken words and she turned sharply to regard Giplor. Her dark eyes, now "normal" appearing since her flesh-craving had been momentarily curbed, were snapping with anger.
Yes, she understood what HE was saying, but she was offended that a mortal MAN was speaking her Sister's language and butchering it so terribly. The Siren's Song could be likened almost to that of a whale song; a sound so uniquely there's and a sound that truly only sounded beautiful when accompanied by the sea.
And in that prideful stubbornness, she refused to answer him and instead turned back to her meal and finished eating her meat.
Giplor:
Giplor would swing around the table that the Siren sat at. He noticed she had been disgruntled by his words, which meant she was what he thought. Although not the attacker involved in the crime, he knew that if she wasn't taken care of that the Siren could be a very large problem down the road.
Giplor sat down in the seat across from her and looked to the bar, "Bring me one bottle of Ta and a pale of ice. If you have it, some strawberries, one Bonnet Head Shark Steak and a Swordfish fillet with a baked potato covered in the fish oil, salt, and whatever cheese you might have as the sides for these."
Giplor then waived one of his men over to him, "Take my horse from the stable and fetch a chariot. Do not bring my chariot, but still nice and comfortable with white horses to pull it. Bring this lady fresh garbs fit for a princess."
"Sir, if I may ask, why so much for this maiden? Her manners are not fit for such." the soldier asked.
Giplor would grab the man by his head and slam it into the solid table and hold it there, "Because I said so. And when you return, bring our armors in a second chariot."
The man quickly stood up and pounded his right hand on his chest, "Yessir! Never will I question your orders again!"
As the soldier turned away he rubbed his head. A small amount of blood dripped from the mans forehead that dried up as soon as he stepped outside into the wind. In a full sprint he rushed to the stable and rode off on Giplor's secondary mount.
Giplor then turned back to the Siren and smiled before speaking to her again, "Don't worry, none of these people know what you are. They just think you're a lost, beautiful, miracle worker...something i'm sure very few can say about the Siren...I think you're a beautiful being who's heart is different than the other Siren. Why else would you be in a place like this?
Anyways, what is your name, gorgeous?"
Atlantian NPC:
Edyrian is brought his food promptly. It smells delicious. Mrs. Butcher pats Megan's head absently as she watches the proceedings.
"How...strange. Never seen that before, and I've seen a lot of things."
A waitress brings Giplor's order, shaking slightly. It's a very unusual night, and it's getting more unusual by the moment. Who would order such an exorbitant meal for a stranger, even if said stranger was a beautiful and nearly-naked woman? Odd indeed. However, it's a meal that's going to be paid for, and so it's delivered steaming hot. The man who was just healed settles gingerly into a chair, opening a bottle of ale. He's had a bad night, but it's gotten better. Behind the bar, Mr. Baker sighs.
"You should all stay here for the night. Even you soldiers. I'll give you a reduced rate. Just don't go outside. It's too dangerous."
Nereida:
She was licking her fingers of the juices of the swordfish steak that was completely gone, her dark eyes watching Giplor and the way he spoke to his soldiers. She didn't understand the language he was speaking in, but it was clear by the intelligent shining in her eyes that perhaps she could, if she was taught.
Her lashes fluttered, blinking when Giplor slammed the man's head against the table, and a thoughtful frown came over her face. Why the violence? Could she do that violence to someone, too? Was that how these mortal men treated each other? It was obvious that Giplor was in some sort of command, but just how powerful was he?
She watched him warily now as she reached for the bottle of wine and drank down the stuff, immediately shuddering as a look of adorable disgust came over her face. She shoved it away and used Erydian's cloak to rub the taste off her tongue. The taste of the cloth wasn't much better.
Her long hair close to completely dry, its dark silken strands gleamed almost blue beneath the light, her skin soft and satiny and glimmering with tiny, almost imperceptible golden scales when the firelight caught it at just the right angle.
Giplor spoke again in a language not meant for mortal tongue, and Nereida's frown deepened. She touched her full lips and shook her head, a signal that she didn't like him speaking that language, even if it was the only one she could understand.
Still, she dropped her graceful hand from her lush mouth to her cloak-covered chest, and when she spoke, her voice was smooth and warm like a tropical current.
"Nereida."
She looked up when even more food was laid out in the table but she seemed to eschew anything that wasn't meat. Unaware if the food was for Giplor or herself, she hesitated.
Giplor:
"Beautiful name. Such a sweet and soft name. Now I know you're not too happy about me speaking, but you are in my land, and unless you speak our language, it'll have to do. So cut out the faces and fix the issue." Giplor spoke.
Giplor pushed the Shark steak to Nereida. He would take his plate and a shot of ta. Picking up his fork and knife, he'd emphasize them to Nereida, as if wanting her to watch. He'd stab the steak with the fork and cut through the steak with the knife in a saw like motion.
"While here, manners are necessary. We use utensils to eat, so do what I did so you don't look like some savage beast. You're a beautiful woman, not a savage beast; and you'll start acting like it as of now."
He'd take a bite, followed by another, and then set his utensils down to watch her. He wanted to see if she could do it. He didn't want the lustful eyes of the men in the tavern to get any ideas. The more she acted and looked like a lady, the less they'd try and bother her. Not only that, but there was the Siren deal that he needed to keep hidden and there wasn't much he could do but be nice, kill her, or arrest her; and, and he was going with the nice deal for now.
(Every post on this link:
Page 3 of One-Eyed Shark)
(Last two posts:
Giplor:
As she moved to the window, Giplor would sit back down on the edge of the bed. He felt as though he had proven his point. He watched her body, the moonlight showing the golden tints where they shown. Such a fine creation of the heavens, her beauty taking Giplor's mind like a drug every second that passed.
Giplor's chest could still feel the touch of her breasts while his lips could feel the warmth of her breathe. The lily that she had within her hair had left a fragrant scent that made the moment even more unforgettable. A moment that made him feel like a dream touching reality, not just a casual encounter.
His eyes remained primarily on hers, straying towards her hair that had waves like the ocean, adding to the addiction. Again, he was thankful for his peripheral vision, taking glimpses at her body, leading towards the thought of the brief moment they just had and how it could feel being even closer.
"I don't know how else to tell prove to you I am sincere but through actions. You could be here to kill me, but out of faith, I believe otherwise. This goes both ways." Giplor spoke, trying to let her know that the fear of death was something that overcame him also, but not what he chose to believe.
Nereida:
She leaned her hip against the window sill, turned a little towards him. Her head tipped and rested against its edge as well, the moonlight pouring over her body and kissing the silken flesh that his eyes feasted on. Lifting a hand, she thread through the dark tumble of her hair, stroking the black tresses over and over again.
It occurred to her that this man that had acted with such authority below was humbling himself for her. For whatever reason -- and she didn't know what this reason was -- this man had made a conquest out of HER. Nereida wasn't sure what to do with this information. Where she came from, there was no politics, only the instinct of emotion and need.
Did she NEED Giplor? No. She didn't feel as if she did. Did she WANT him?
The thought had her face turning away from the window to look at him watching her. Did she? Nereida didn't know how to be cunning, she only knew how to be impulsive and blunt, although she knew some secrets -- like what she truly was -- were worth keeping.
"Then if you're not here to kill me, why ARE you here?" she asked him from her place by the window, turning to face him full bodied once again, leaning against the wall beside the window where the pale light of the moon still danced over her curves.
