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Written by Pale

Tailed – Part Two

The sudden shouting of men and the barking of a dog coming from the village woke Aroree up from being mesmerized by the stars. She shook her head, figuring hours had passed by. The blanket of shining stars now ruled supreme on the night-sky, undisturbed by the illuminating light of the sun. Aroree returned her gaze to the village. The streets were almost deserted now, besides from a couple guards and a few random people out on their own nightly errands. This would be a good time to find the charr, she thought.

She waved goodbye at the stars and descended from the tall tree, being greeted by an impatient Blackfell when she hit the ground. The ebon wolf would have been all but invisible to the ***** eye, lying close to the ground in the black night of the forest, the lights of the city being blocked by its tall, solid walls.

Aroree took the last jump down, landed without a sound and stood up, brushing her large, many-colored and leafy hair to the side.

Blackfell whined low and jumped up, putting its massive paws on Aroree’s shoulders, licking her face and threatening to drop her to the ground, her mass, weight and strength being much less than its own.

Aroree merely giggled, though, embracing the wolf, kissing its thick fur.

“Stupid, stupid wolf!” she laughed as she was finally pushed backwards into the forest-bed, the two of them wrestling around in the tall grass. In the end, they both collapsed, panting beside each other, Arorees hand reaching out to cuddle the big wolf.

“Now… I want you to stay here… Stay! Do you understand? I need to go into that village, and I can’t have you around causing trouble!” She said, pausing a bit. “Although I am sure they have plenty of good meat.”

She continued, looking into the eyes of what was her best friend. Blackfell whined again, a worried and now somewhat hungry gaze in his eyes.

“Oh… Don’t be such a whelp! I’ll be fine I will!” Aroree said, almost as sure in her own ability as she sounded. With a single, soundless movement, Aroree jumped to her feet, Blackfell instantly at her side, rubbing against her.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be back before you know it… But be still till I am!” She hugged the huge wolf one last time, pressing her face against his forehead, inhaling his smell. Then she waved at him as she took off towards the town gate, his worried gaze following her every step.

Aroree approached the tavern door with her usual, fast-paced steps. The guards had been little trouble getting past, a Sylvari seldom regarded as a threat to anyone.

When she opened the tavern-door, she was greeted by a reek smell of tobacco, sweat and spilled ale which put an excited smile on her face and made her sigh deeply. It was as if stories hung in the air, waiting to be told. She entered, pulled her hood back, and looked around. The tavern was filled with all kinds of people, mostly humans of various sorts engaged in discussions around a number of tables.

There were only three charr in the tavern. In the upper section up a set of stairs behind her, was a slim male, with fur in almost bright orange, wrapped in a white and grey robe covering most of his figure, puffing on a pipe whilst engaged in low conversation with a heavy-looking norn next to him. The other two charr, whom Aroree quickly guessed would be the two she was looking for, were sitting for themselves at a table in the farthest corner of the tavern.

They wore heavy, travel-stained charr armour and had placed their equally grim looking weaponry up against the nearby wall. No-one seemed to dare mind giving them the space they needed, and the human customers stayed well way clear of them.

Aroree stood there for a moment, studying the two charr in the corner, pondering what to do next. Suddenly, her excited smile from before grew back on her face, now possible with even more enthusiasm, while she covered her mouth with both hands to choke a loud giggle.

The fumes of smoke seemed calming on the two charr, likely reminding them of the smoke coming from the industries of charr cities and settlements. Both were young and carried almost equally arrogant expressions on their faces, glistering with self-assuredness. They seldom spoke, but used much time staring into their ale, exchanging a few words from time to time.

Suddenly however, they both looked up, as a large pint of ale seemed to hover all by itself along the opposing edge of their tall table, until coming to a halt. After floating for a few seconds further, it made a small jump onto the table, accompanied by a moan of exertion from a small voice. There was the rumbling sound of the legs of a chair being dragged across the stone floor, and suddenly a smiling head with a large, leafy hair, all in the colourful yet dark shades of the fall, appeared over the edge of the pint. “Hi! I’m Aroree! Would you drink with me?” The head said. The charr just stared.

Aroree was good at many things. Understanding other races wasn’t one of them. Neither was controlling her temper. But talking certainly was. This came in very handily in her current situation, enabling her to talk in an endless stream, only occasionally sipping at her ale, whilst the two charr drank countless pints, seemingly amused, or possible despaired, by the sheer eagerness of Aroree’s narration.

“And then there was … with the peg-leg … and his brother who owed him money and wished him dead … but they kept following, so I hid in the bushes … followed them instead all the way to outside Rata Sum … killed them with a stick, with poison on it, down in their food.”
Aroree panted as she finally stopped talking and lowered her arms which had been used to make wild gestures for the story, leaned forward with a serious look on her face, narrowed her eyes and added: “They were very, very dead!”

She finally dropped down on her stool once again. Three hours had passed, but the effect was as she had hoped. People drank far too much once she started talking, and the two charr was no exception as they slept heavily, resting over the table.

She could never determine whether it was because she was a good storyteller, or rather quite the opposite, but this mattered little now. Dawn was coming, the first hints of golden rays peeped through the edges of the tavern windows, veiled by the combined effects of the taverns high humidity and the morning dew. The few humans left in the establishment were either dead asleep as the charr, or leaning tired on their elbows as they exchanged the last gossip for that night.

None of them saw or heard a couple of small Sylvari feet as they landed on the floor with complete silence, and moved around the table to the two sleeping charr. Only a single, slim figure which had been sitting so still Aroree had forgotten to pay it any attention, followed her patiently with feline eyes, puffing slowly on its pipe whilst hiding in the shadows of it’s white and grey robe.

Aroree had a somewhat puzzled look on her face, whilst she attempted to figure out where the two charr might have hidden the sphere. Under their armor perhaps…? Aroree was thinking all she was able. A short moment of panic struck her. What if they have buried it somewhere? the thought only made it half-way through her head when she saw it. A large pouch with what appeared to be circle-shaped content, hanging from a leather strap around one charr’s neck, now dangling beneath the edge of the table.

Aroree’s features lightened up, she silently drew a small skinning-knife, reached down with nimble fingers and cut the pouch loose. There was no reaction from the charr. She opened the pouch to make sure, and right as expected, there it was: The sphere! She tied the pouch to her belt, and was just about to turn and walk when a light thud caused her to turn and look. In it’s sleep, one charr had shifted it’s tail.

Aroree stood, mesmerized, staring at the tails of the two charr. Then, a wide, amused smile played across her lips, and she put her hands on her belly as she laughing silently. She forgot about not being seen, quietly reached down, and with gentle hands lifted the tails of both charr. She stood there a short moment, then swiftly and silently tied a knot, using the ends of the long, soft tails. She dared to tighten the knot a bit, but still nothing happened.

“Kitties like their milk too much” she whispered, the wide smile still present on her small, comely face, made of red fall-leaves.

She finally took a leather strap from her own belt, a souvenir flayed from the very skin of a human bandit she had encountered some months before, and used it to tie the tails even tighter together. When done, she walked towards the door of the tavern and looked back. She spotted the barkeep, sending her a resenting gaze as he moved towards the two sleeping charr. She darted out the door and ran as fast as her feet could carry her.

Aroree sprinted down the muddy streets of the village, a mild spring drizzle adding to the morning dew and proclaiming a wet day. Her features still carried hints of her amused smile but re-emerged as a loud giggle when the first drunken roars of surprise, chock and then anger arose from the tavern behind her. It then finally burst out into a loud laughter, as even louder roars of pain accompanied by the sound of several wooden objects splintering followed, heralding that the two charr had learned the bitter way what she had done moments before leaving. She reached a T-junction and looked over her shoulder back towards the tavern before turning left. Far behind her, two heavy figures burst out the tavern door, and although clearly out of balance from their heavy drinking, took up pursuit.

Aroree was a very, very fast sylvari. But charr, even in armor, running on all fours, were faster. Aroree ran all she could, criss-crossing through streets, attempting to lose her pursuers. But ever could she hear the heavy thumps of their paws in the mud coming closer and closer behind her.

Aroree had started to attempt to remember their armor composition as to decide which of them to shoot first, and where, when she turned around yet another corner and saw it. A tall tree standing next to a house, it’s crown reaching far above the rooftop. She let out a cry of joy, ran towards it, but stopped just for a moment, touching the ground. A faint shimmer of green ran from her hand and into the earth. Then she darted upwards, towards the top, and the safety of the rooftops.

She reached the top just as the two charr came around the corner. They roared when they saw Aroree at the top of the tree.

“Thief! I’ll flay you alive, leaf by leaf!” The biggest one roared. He never got much further, however, as strong roots shot up from the ground and wrapped themselves around his legs. The other, somewhat smaller charr stopped and tried to help him get free, but to no avail. The roots only entangled themselves further around the charr’s legs.

“It’s a strong tree!” Aroree yelled. “It doesn’t like the idea of someone flaying anything with leaves!” With those words she jumped off the tree, landed on the rooftop of the adjacent building and ran.

The smaller charr were about to pull out it’s weapon to slash at the roots, but the other charr halted him. “No, she’ll get away. You must get the sphere back! We will be flayed alive if we do not recover it for the tribune!” The smaller charr nodded, sheathed his weapon and climbed up the tree in pursuit in Aroree, albeit far slower than the agile dance she had performed up it’s barked surface. When he got to the rooftops things got easier however, and soon, he was flying over the rooftops, Aroree’s small figure running, jumping, somewhere ahead.

Back beneath the tree, the larger charr had managed to pull his sword and were slashing away at the roots. So deep was his focus that he did not hear heavy footsteps making thuds in the mud from behind. And when he finally looked over his shoulder, it was far too late, the norn from the tavern brought his heavy axe down on the charr, cleaving it’s skull.

Aroree glanced back for a moment as she scaled yet another rooftop, seeing the feline shape following her some distance away. Her light weight and good climbing abilities made it easier to keep a distance between the two. But she was nearing the city wall, so running of rooftops would soon no longer be an option.

She leapt across the last few, and quickly scaled the city wall from the inside, using a vine growing up alongside it. She ran along the battlement, attempting to find a good place to get out of the city entirely. There were no guards visible. No wonder – this part of Kryta saw few if no centaurs. And after the war with the charr had ended, most soldiers had been called to the troubled corners of the kingdom to fight those same centaurs which were so absent here.

This had also meant that the branches of the tall trees surrounding the village had been allowed to grow – something which Aroree discovered to her surprise and joy, as she discovered a branch, just within jumping distance from the battlement. It would bend a little, so you couldn’t come from the tree to the battlement. But this would work.

She made a short run-up and leapt, shooting out from the battlement as one of her arrows from her bow. She sailed through the air for almost a second, before her arms caught hold of the branch. It waved up and down, but she was used to darting around in trees, so she started climing inwards towards the trunk of the tree, long before it had stopped.

She finally reached the trunk what turned out to be not a moment too soon. A roar from behind her told her that the charr had arrived on the battlement. She was about to climb down, when an idea started to take shape in her head. She turned around and faced the charr as it strode back and forth, there on the battlement.

“Why don’t you come and get me!?” she teased, doing her best to seem confident.

“I will claw you so fast and so clean, you will be like pollen, falling to the ground, twig!” The charr snorted, his claws seeming to itch for something to rip and tear.

Aroree paused for a moment, and then sang with the most annoying voice she could muster: “Little kitty cried, it’s tail was red and blue. Then it lost it’s ball of yarn, and a new that wouldn’t do. For a twig came and took it, and in a tree it flew. But the kitty dared not follow, it’s paws were soft as few. For if the kitty scratched itself, it would only cry anew… Booohoooo!!!” Aroree almost sneered the last part, and it was not without effect.

The charr roared with rage and threw itself out after the branch. In the moment it caught it and it’s leap lost momentum, Aroree made a slight jump and caught hold with a single hand of a smaller branch almost right above her, which was strong enough to hold her. She then reached backwards with her other hand and gently touched the trunk of the tree. A small glimmer of green flowed from her into tree, and the response came immediately.

The branch she had just stood on, and which the charr was now trying to get a proper hold of, snapped. It was a 25 meter fall. The sound the charr made as it fell, could all things aside be mistaken for crying. Then there was a thump, and the cracks of both wood and bones.

Aroree hung on to the branch a moment longer. “Too big” Aroree said to herself before she swung over on another branch and began her descent. “Way too big.”

She jumped from branch to branch as elegant and light-footed as if she had been a noblewoman, dancing gracefully across the marble floor at a ball in royal palace of Dvinity’s Reach. On her way down, she readied her shortbow. And just as she thought, there was still life in the charr, at the bottom of the tree.

“Kitties always lands on all four” she whispered to herself. Although landed was perhaps taking her mouth a bit too full. As if the weight of the charr wasn’t enough, the sheer weight of the armor had entirely crushed the legs of the creature upon hitting the ground, bone-pieces sticking out from all places across the shattered limbs. The right arm too, was broken several places, the left was waving around uncontrollably, and the jaw seemed badly dislocated.

The charr lifted it’s head, anger still in it’s eyes and was immediately greeted with two arrows, one in the left, still good arm, and one in the neck. The next thing it knew, Aroree sat on top of it, drew her blade, pulled the charr’s head back and hissed into it’s ear: “Die!!” Then she slit it’s throat.

Aroree stood up and cleansed her sword. She then put both hands to her mouth, forming a funnel, and let out a howl, which could easily be mistaken for that of a wolf. The response came immediately, from the other side of the village. Blackfell was on his way.

Aroree then noticed something she had suppressed for hours now. Her stomach rumbled like an angry bear. She looked over at the charr. “…It’s only a big cat…” she said to herself, took out her skinning knife, scraped away some fur, took a good hold of the still warm meat with both hands, and bit in. It tasted… good. She had not been eating for more than a minute or two, however, before she, to her great surprise, felt a sword-tip under her chin.

She froze, stopped eating and realized this was a rare moment for her. Few had ever snuck up on her before. Still with a piece of charr meat in her mouth, the blade lifted her chin and turned her head, until she was looking up at a slim feline figure, dressed in a white and grey robe, veiling a body covered in almost bright orange fur. A good distance behind it, a huge norn towered, wielding a heavy looking axe. A look of disgust apparent on the faces of both.

“Well, hello there, my little planty friend” the charr said, in a tone which for a charr would have to be considered to be very nonchalant with a pompously noble overtone.

“I must say I was worried if sneaking up on you would be altogether possible, having observed your performance throughout the night. But perhaps I was just lucky and you were sufficiently hungry?”

The charr lifted an eyebrow, and Aroree couldn’t quite make out if he was being sincere or ironic. Had he had trouble sneaking up on her? Or…?

But before she could think further on the matter, the charr continued: “And oh, I apologize for the sword, but seeing how you are dealing with my… kin… here… I imagine we can agree that it is not…” The charr paused and looked down at it’s other paw, as if studying how well his claws were sharpened, before returning his gaze to Aroree “…entirely unwarranted. No? But I forget my manners entirely. My name is Griram; Griram Duststalker. Me and my friend here,” he motioned to the norn behind him, “were wondering if you would join us for breakfast of a…” Griram peered down at the dead charr beside him “…radically different sort. But have no fear; we are by no means vegetarians” he chuckled.

A deep growling interrupted the little group from behind. Blackfell had arrived, the huge, ebon wolf snarling at the norn who looked in the direction of Griram, taking his axe from his shoulder. Aroree in turn began to snarl, reaching slowly for her blade, the piece of charr meat still in her mouth.

Griram pushed the sword-tip closer to Aroree’s throat. “Now there…” he said, his grip of the sword suddenly not as casual, not nonchalant, but with well concealed skill and swiftness. “We are here because you came here for something. Something which belongs to the person who sent us both here. Remember the little asura on the wagon? He sent you here to get the sphere. And you seem like you’ve found it.” Griram stared down at the little pouch with the spherical content hanging from Aroree’s belt.

At the mention of the asura, Aroree stopped snarling, her features lightened up as if all the worries in the world has left her, and she smiled instead, motioning to Blackfell to lie down.

“Wld sving” she said through the charr meat. “What? Oh, yes… yes!” The world-saving purpose, by all means!” Griram replied, looking down at Aroree with a smile. He reached his paw down towards Aroree, taking her hand and gently helped on her feet, the piece of charr-meat dropping from her mouth.

“Now… This way, to the asura, if you please my dear” Griram said, leading Aroree away from the city, her face soaked in charr-blood smiling up at him. As they walked, the norn came up on his side.

“What do you want to do with her? She seems… Uncontrollable” he whispered.

Griram stared back at him and whispered the other way. “Her? She just needs to be given whatever she sees as a purpose. A prime little killing and acquisition machine like that you don’t just let slip through your fingers. The Lore would love her!”

The norn shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. If all else fails we can always dispose of her.”

Griram chuckled, looking at Aroree jumping happily in circles ahead, playing with Blackfell. “This is why I always so enjoy working with you my friend. You are always so practical.”

And thus they walked, back towards the ‘destination’ of the caravan, and the waiting, plotting asura…

End of Part Two