It was an odd thing how, almost immediately after Aherne had crossed the Noctis border and entered the lands to which she was supposedly not welcome to, the weather seemed to change so drastically. If the mood had been lighter she might have thought it amusingly appropriate; but, as large splashes of water began to fall down from the great heights of the sky, she was once again reminded that this was an entirely different part of the Realm than it used to be. Gone were the days of the old guilds and the times when wanderers could do so freely, without warning and without the fear of crossing paths with someone who did not feel as warmly as they. Not so long ago, the only parts of the Realm of be wary of were those small areas controlled by the Black Magic and Necromancer guilds; but even they were tamer, more regulated, less...dangerous. Times had changed....

And had Aherne been where she was standing now several years ago, when she had just entered the Realm with no destination in mind, no real path, she might have been worried, or at least more cautious about where she travelled. But now, the young woman seemed to be calm and even disregarding of the atmosphere around her. She knew well enough that there were few in the Realm who she needed to fear, and even fewer that could match her. That wasn’t to say that she was not on her guard; far from it. As was usual, the deadly, diamond sword hung from her right hip, a reminder to any who thought her easy prey. A concealed dagger was tucked into her left boot; and the real danger she presented was hidden within her. Her guard was up, yet she feared not the lands which forbid the light.

As she walked along the streets of the town, Aherne passed few people, but those who she did walk by avoided her piercing gaze like a plague, their faces covered with dark hoods, bodies with weather-beaten cloaks. Some would catch her gaze and mutter things she could not discern, often in tongues she did not know. No one, fortunately, seemed to recognize her– she had taken pains to make sure of that. Aherne had not come to Noctis by chance or a fleeting desire, whatever reason for that might have been. No, she was there to watch, and to learn...to pick up whatever information she could about anything she deemed important. The High Lady had learned the value of not remaining ignorant to things which brewed in the dark places in the Realm. And what better a destination for such things as the Villain’s Bar?

She walked the well-beaten and familiar path towards a tavern she knew well; for it had been one of the places she had visited when she had first arrived in the Realm. Her fiery hair, which normally hung in waves about her shoulders and down her back, was tucked up beneath a black cap. Her attire was that which was welcomed in Noctis- a blood red tunic with leggings the colour of deepest night. Knee-high boots allowed her to travel swiftly and quietly. She wore no markings of her title or that of Noresh; indeed, should one not know her well, Aherne might well have been taken for just another villager, save for her violently amethyst eyes– she could not conceal them. Other than that, unless she chose to give up her information, she was sure in her ability to remain unrecognized.

The evening sky had turned dark much more quickly than usual as the telltale signs of a storm appeared on the horizon. The rain was coming down harder now, and quickly turning the earthen paths to mud. She hastened her pace, pulling her grey traveling cloak around her. The bar came into sight, along with its usual crowd: drunks, lechers, and generally unpleasant folk. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she passed them this time, not wanting to induce conflict- she was far from a harmless wanderer now. No doubt many of these men would have loved the chance to have a few words with a lady of Noresh...

She pushed open the tavern door, letting it fall behind her, and strode quickly past the tables and chairs, most of which were occupied by the same type of clientele. The smell of smoke hung thick and heavy in the air, making it difficult to see into the farthest corners of the bar; candles flickered on heavy metal hangers strewn along the walls and on the tables. Raucous shouts and whistles and the occasional chair being upturned followed her as she proceeded to one of the tables in the back. It was unoccupied, and had only two chairs drawn up. Aherne sat herself down upon one, after making sure it wouldn’t collapse under her, and then tossed her wet cloak on the table. Aherne rested her arms behind her head and leaned back...watching, listening, and waiting. Just as she had put her legs up on the chair opposite her, a deep and ominous rumble of thunder sounded, making the window near her head shudder in its grimy panes.

It was going to be an interesting night....

Weak, dreary, unexciting; until the lightning decided to crack the hazardously grey skies, the weather would remain unpleasantly dismal as it was partial to being as of late. For this reason, as the wood in the building’s foundations creaked, almost no one stirred for their minds were so utterly conditioned to the winds and the rains, not that their ears would be able to pick up such subtle sounds over the roar of the merry tavern. The second floor of the inn, even, had such commotion going on, whether it were a raucous in the hallways, or a raucous in the rooms.

Perched at the edge of the platform overlooking the bar room, his body leaning heavily against the somewhat precarious railing as the cat with tiger stripes and dappled spots sat at his feet calmly, looked out over the crowd, his eyes, dark and almost unfocused, gazed out over the regular din and bustle of the tavern. His pipe, which perched between his lips and one side of teeth, was being chewed on slowly and deliberately, though his entire body language and facial expression suggested anything but being alert. The shady man at the balcony in fact seemed very much out of it; he wasn’t looking anywhere in particular though his eyes, only one clearly being able to actually see, didn’t seem inclined to dart about and remained steadfast upon a single spot. His back was slouched forward, his arms loosely crossed upon the wooden rail, and his weight refused to shift to one side. The cat at his feet seemed more intone with what was going on.

The door opened, and as usual, a patron joined the crow beneath him, though there was something very distinctly different about this simple villager. There was something off about her, and Creejak had seen it many times on travels throughout his life; it wasn’t a boy, as the pretender was attempting to appear as. Creejak knew a tomboy when he saw one, even the clever ones. Nobody wore their hair that short unless they were a blacksmith or entirely bald, and she, or he, or it, was much too young to be bearing a gleaming scalp.

His lips parted in a slight scowl, smoke slithering through his teeth in blue coils that drifted in no particular pattern through the air. For a long while, he merely kept his eye on her, until finally he stood back and walked across the wood floor to the other end of the balcony, the cat following at his feet. As he reached the corner at the top of the stairs, he paused, foot hovering above the top step, and contemplated what it was exactly he intended to do. She was a lady pretending to be a man, after all, and broadcasting her presence may cause her danger and thus conflict whatever it was that she needed to hide from and herself. Would he merely talk? He personally didn’t like intruding conversation, and thus chose not to subject it upon her. He was busy that night anyway; there was business to attend to.

So, he merely took up his place once again on the balcony, staring into oblivion as the night wore on, and his tobacco store wore low. As he reached into his vest, and found only a few grains left shifting about his inner pocket, the poisoner sighed heavily and sucked back the last of his pipe, holding it in for an extraordinary amount of time before finally letting it out in a series of ring-shaped puffs. Still chewing on the end of the pipe, he went for his belt and, ignoring the nakedness he felt to not have his sword clasped at his hip in such an unsavoury type of building, took one glove which he pulled tightly over one of his hands, and stuffed said hand into one of his pockets.

There was a card game in progress, and as he quietly walked down the staircase, his face a mask of amiable pleasure, the large cat that had been following him suddenly stopped at the bottom step and darted off, crawling under tables and chairs, cleverly avoiding stomping feet, and came to rest on the chair right beside the High Lady Aherne, purring uproariously like a typical feline would to attract petting hands and loving attention.

Creejak approached the card table, holding up his hand and pulling out a chair as he reached for a small bag of coins at his waist. The next few hands resulted in a clean-up by the player across from him, and as new players began to take their place, the old ones jovially wandering off for a drink or bitterly complaining to their companions, Creejak established himself in the new game, already having spotted the tell sign of the reigning card champion of the night.

The hand was dealt, and it seemed the fellow was quite good. Creejak remained calmly scowling the entire game, his brows rising occasionally or his face giving a slight twitch. It took a while, but eventually, each man who had entered the game began to drop out having lost their money, until it was merely the Grandmaster and the former winner alongside another, skinny lad barely into adulthood.

”Ah,” Creejak murmured, leaning back in his chair and pulls his cards together before throwing them on the table with a shrug. “I fold.” With that, Creejak was out of the game. There were a few murmurs, and some applause for the man still doing so well. Creejak even ordered a drink for the fellow, who accepted quite happily with relief that the half-blind man wasn’t a sore looser.

”A shame…” Creejak whispered after a few minutes had passed by, and the young boy claimed a victory, “…yeh took it fer granted.” It wasn’t a moment longer that the so-called champion began to turn a terrible purple colour around the throat and lips. As he clutched at his sore throat, he opened his mouth to let a moan out, yet his severely swollen tongue prohibited him from doing any such thing. The younger man at the table panicked upon seeing such a display, and stood back, knocking his chair over. Creejak assumed a mildly interested look, though when everyone’s attention was on the choking man, the poisoner scooped the coins off the table and left very quietly, somewhat pleased with himself that he had left enough money to cover what the boy had started with.

“E’s been poisoned!” Someone chimed, and Creejak, wearing a very distinct smirk, rolled his eyes as he slinked off.
”Oh, imagine that…” he muttered quietly, his sarcasm so very natural as he slipped back upstairs to his rented room. After the newest commotion had died down, and the body had been tossed out the back door to the pigs, Creejak returned from the second floor wearing his sword, and went downstairs again to see if the young lady was still lingering. His glove off and replaced by two fingerless versions, he stuffed his thumbs between his pants and belt and skulked around the high lady of Noresh from the side before approaching he,r and leaning a hand upon the table so he still stood but took some weight from his back.

”Yeh don’t really belong ‘ere, aye? S’uh touch out of the way fer a lady such as yerself.”

Whether she interpreted it as a comment from a man merely attempting to start a sleazy connection, or a word from one Grandmaster to a mere minion of the realm, he left it open. Perhaps she recognized him if she was from Noctis, which would provide an interesting first introduction.

Rarely had she spent any time in the Villain’s Bar when so little had happened, for good or ill. As the night wore on, and as the bar’s customer’s had come and gone, and as candles were repeatedly lit and relit as their wax dripped further onto their respective tables, Aherne was beginning to wonder just how much tamer this memorably seedy part of Noctis had become. That wasn’t to say that the hooded people who sat about the tables muttering in low voices had not caused their share of little spats of trouble, but on the whole, this had been, save for the continually raging thunderstorm just outside of the walls, one of Aherne’s quieter visits to the tavern. She had even lapsed into a state where her guard had been significantly lowered, which was a good sign as to how little had happened; besides the odd drunk stumbling into her table, or an occasional thrown punch over money, she had had nothing to worry about.

That hadn’t stopped her from noticing the presence of a man who had appeared at the top of the balcony up above the inhabitants of the bar; he had been watching her since she had walked into the bar, although she hadn’t the slightest clue as to who he was. He had eventually averted his eyes, and yet she had continued to glance his way from time to time as the evening progressed slowly into night– he was intriguing, as much as she hated to stare, from the pipe he so adamantly smoked to the cat which curled itself around his feet. The longer she looked, the more convinced she was that she had never seen him before, which, far be it from surprising, made her wonder who he was to stand as a purveyor of all that which was going on in the bar.

She folded her arms behind her head and turned her gaze eventually back to the goings-on around her, although not much had changed; a card game had been steadily progressing at a table close to her and she was half-watching; enough to notice who seemed to be winning; not enough to care all that much. It wasn’t until the man who had been standing on the balcony’s edge came down and joined them that she turned her full attention to it. For some reason, he carried an aura that felt strange to her– for although he did not seem to be of any race other than human, she sensed a sort of commanding power to him that most of the half-alert men around him lacked. At the moment when she truly began to follow the card game, however, she finally noticed the cat at her feet and smiled softly at it, her hand reaching down to scratch the creature behind its ears. She had never had a particularly overt fondness for cats, but couldn’t resist it as it curled itself around and around her feet. It didn’t escape her knowledge, furthermore, than this was the same feline who had been creeping so loyally by the man who had now worked his way into the top three of the card match.

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she observed the dealings of the three men now sitting at the table; for cheating seemed far from impossible in such a place; and far from it as she was to interfere, she was interested to see if all three would remain loyal to the rules of the game. She took little notice, or placed little importance on, the drink bought for one of the men, and was even surprised at the token of...well, whatever it was that had prompted the man to buy it. By the end of the game she forgotten all about it. But at that moment when the final cards had been thrown down, a gagging noise immediately told her something was not right.

She sat bolt upright in her chair and craned her neck to see above the heads and around the bodies of those who surrounded the action; as it was she could not see much, but heard the shocked noises of the onlookers and heard the thump of the chair as it was knocked over; heard the shout of “He’s been poisoned!” from a frightened man. Her eyes widened at the exclamation, and she stood up in order to gain a better view. Her sight of the dying man was blocked by a rush of voyeurs to the scene, but something else caught her eye– the man she had been watching before, scooping up the coins on the table and quickly disappearing into the crowd and out of sight. Aherne raised an eyebrow, but chose not to say anything; she could hardly exert any authority over the theft in front of all of these people without divulging who she was, which was exactly the opposite of what her original intentions had been.

It was all she could do to sit down and stay there as the body was roughly carried out of the bar, a look of disgust on her naturally pale face. The affairs of those who inhabited the bar were not for her to interfere in; and yet, in that split second she had considered taking action– and had she not been a High Lady of Noresh, she probably would have. The thought unnerved her for many reasons, the biggest being how tied down she suddenly felt by the very position she had been so honoured to obtain. It was a disturbing thought, but one that was forcibly removed from her mind by the sudden reappearance of the man who had taken the money off of the table. He had put his hand down at her table and she looked up slowly, taking in his appearance, her face a mask. With one eyebrow raised slightly, she took in his speech and contemplated an answer, allowing a small flicker of a grin to appear on her visage.

“Duly noted, sir...but unless you know more about me than I believe you do, I hardly think that you could know what kind of lady it is that I am. And if such a thing is true, then I would think it a bit presumptuous of yourself to assume that I don’t belong here.” She gave a soft chuckle and removed her feet from the chair across from her; she gave the man no other gesture to sit down, but left the decision in his hands.

“I do have to say, though, that I hope that gold you so stealthily removed from your table will cover a few drinks, if you choose to keep talking to me.” She said no more than that, but there was a humorous spark in her eye that displayed that there was jest in her words alongside the thinly-veiled accusation. Then she leaned back and fixed him with a determined stare, but said no more. She did not have any idea of what his reaction would be, but was highly intrigued as to what it might be. Perhaps her evening might not end as dully as it had started....

((-So- sorry. It’s late, and a touch short, but I felt bad about taking forever and just wanted to get it done and posted.))

The feline had opened its mouth, purring with all the strength of a lion ten times its size, his tail twitching as he ducked his head into the lady’s fingers, inclining for that extra bit of pressure that would make everything worth it. As the game ended, and the business had been completed, the feline looked up as he failed to see the shifty man with the pipe. Eventually, though, as he leaped onto the lady’s lap and began kneading his paws against her rather firm legs, the dark haired human returned, with his sword no less. The cat, although merely an animal, scoffed with a distinct huffing noise from his small butterfly nose.

Still chewing on his pipe, Creejak watched Aherne’s face as she spoke, answering him with a jovial, subtle tone that was merely amiable and nothing else. Regarding the way she had spoken to him, he almost felt offended; he had been able to identify her beyond her disguise, yet she gave off no stress nor anxiety upon learning a stranger had figured her secret out. He tilted his head onto his shoulder, looking at her with partially closed eyes as she withdrew her feet from their resting place, only to be replaced with the body of the large tabby coated tom that curled itself tightly on the seat, peering at the human with eyes that spoke of a dare. The poisoner’s lips thinned, but he made no gesture to remove the cat from its position, not in the mood to appear petty and argue with a beast.

Nibbling still on his pipe, his teeth grinding against each other when his jaw partially missed its mark, he contemplated making a light joke on how his seat had been stolen, though upon the comment next delivered, he realized the twisted irony and knew he had perhaps inadvertently done something wise by not saying a thing. He chuckled lowly, an undertone more than an actual noise, and quirked a brow at her, leaning against the table so he was just barely sitting on the edge of the squared wooden furniture.

”I consider those coins…a meagre tip. I must say, though, yer right; I hadn’t a clue as ter what kind o’ woman yeh are.” he observed, gesturing to her with a hand and giving her acknowledgement. She most likely was a local girl, though he would not ask right away, to demand a drink within the first few moments of contact, and to reprimand him upon his first words to her. Quite the young snippet of a thing; he didn’t mind at all.

”Of course, though, a drink, yes,” he went on, his hand rotation on his wrist, wondering what it was exactly the young lady would be ordering. He was slightly bemused but at the same time relieved that she was willing to accept something from him, when somebody had just succumbed to death by poisoning not ten feet away. Perhaps she had not seen him do it; he’d like to think she hadn’t, at least, though she had already admitted to seeing him pilfer most of the gold upon the card table. She wasn’t a member of the school at Noctis; taking a drink from him was a known mistake, and by merely telling him to buy her a beverage told Creejak she was not someone who would have contact with any students or Grand Masters.

He flagged down a server, prompting the tom to leap onto the table from the chair that the poisoner than sat down in, and, holding up two fingers, muttered an order casually, prompting a surprised glance from the waiter to Aherne that quickly became smug and knowing as though he could see what it was Creejak was intending for the night. The poisoner turned back to Aherne and lifted one side of his mouth, his brows furrowing to create a very relaxed, nonchalant expression. As he leaned back, he stretched his legs out under the table and crossed an ankle over the other, allowing his sword to hang down at his waist so the tip touched the ground with a slight scraping noise.

”Yer an observant one,” he commented lightly, running a hand through his greasy hair and resting both his arms on the rails of the chair. “Though, in all due fairness, I left the wee boy his money. Ah don’t rob; I merely reclaimed what was mine ter begin with. A shame about the dead’un though. Didn’t need ter leave ‘im ‘is. ‘E weren’t goin’ ter use it.”

At such a remark, Tomnas purred again and sat up, his nose in the air and ears pointed forward in what was clearly a noble pose for the feline. As Creejak ruffled the fur upon the cat’s skull, and Tomnas made a protesting noise, the poisoner’s ink black eyes stared unblinkingly at the Noresh woman, glinting in a very vicious way although no light hit them directly.

”So, mah violet-eyed dear, what’s yer name? Tomnas here,” he gestured to the cat with a nudge of his head, ”doesn’t generally take a liking ter the local ladies, but yer pretty purple eyes must have caught his attention. Yeh can trick the fools around ‘ere, but a cat can’t be made a fool.”