Luthain sat at a table in the back right corner of the Cat's Lair. There were no ornate oil-burning lamps or delicate parafin wax candles mounted in this corner; no perfumed and padded couches rife with pillows and satin veils. Here was a rough, round table of un-varnished wood, a sturdy high-backed chair, and thick, dark ale that Luthain sipped slowly, carefully. He never drank too swiftly, or too often. He wanted to appear, at a casual glance, one of the normal patrons who was either unforunate, or unfortunately poor, and thus relegated to possibly the worst seat in the house. But his were the only eyes in the Tavern not trained on the stage, or following the serving wenches. Instead, Luthain watched the crowd, and he watched for trouble. Propped in the corner, just behind and to the right of Luthain's left shoulder, was a stout cudgel. The Mistress of Cats would not allow him to use an axe, as he was used to. She insisted that blood stains were simply too difficult to clean from satin and silk, and she couldn't afford to replace all the silks in the house ever time he got into an argument with a beligerent guest who'd had too much to drink, or too little attention from the ladies. And, even with the cudgel, she'd still had to insist on no fatalities and as few broken bones as possible. She wanted repeat customers, after all, and men who would up maimed or dead often found it difficult to return to the scene of their misfortune to spend more money. Still, the safety of the girls was wher over-riding concern. And when it came to that, there were no prohibitions. Luthain, so far, had seen far less excitement than his predecessor had apparently confronted his predecessor. The first night one man had refused to pay a truly stellar bar tab, and attempted to walk out of the Tavern. Luthain had stopped him, insisted he pay, and then broken the man's wrist and jaw when he pulled a dagger. Afterward the man had been much more cooperative, and even tipped the house generously for the disruption. Since that initial altercation, only one other person had been brave enough to challenge the Peace of the Cats. And all it had taken to deflate his bravado was a gesture with the now infamous cudgel, and a quickly whispered warning from a local and regular patron. The young braggart quickly remember his senses, and spen the rest of his rather pleasant evening focusing on the brandy and the companionship. Luthan sat with a dark and brooding scowl on his face. He was not happy. Suddenly, a short, athletic woman dropped fluidly into the empty seat across from him. The Mistress, Li'Anna, was a small woman, but she carried with her a power of presence that was almost tangible. She had an iron will, a burning heart, and keen mind. Though she was easily fifteen years his senior, she was absolutely the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And she was clearly not happy either. Her hazel eyes were hard and sharp as agates as the bore into him. "Luthain," She began, leveling a finger at him ominously, "How many times must I remind you that our guests expect a pleasant evening? How can they enjoy themselves when you sit with thunderclouds spinning across your face and above your head? You must smile!" She said, emphasizing her words with a charming and flirtatious grin of her own. "Wipe that smirk off your face, woman," Luthain growled, "There's nothing to smile about." "Woman?" Mistress Li'Anna's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Luthain thought he might have overstepped his bounds. Suddenly, the Mistress gave an imperious flip of her hair and an almost imperceptible shrug, "I suppose I've been called worse before," She said, "But that doesn't change the fact that I need you to stop looking so dark and dangerous. I need you to be dark and dangerous, mind, just try not to look the part quite so well, please, darling?" The Mistress leaned over, gave Luthain's crest a playful tug, then spun out of her seat. She somehow managed to combine a saunter and a swagger with grace as she walked away, and Luthain could only shake his head. He wondered briefly if she knew what that little tug meant to a man from Brae, and quickly decided she probably did. That almost did make him smile. But Luthain's humor quickly soured as he surveyed the common room again. This place was far too quiet for his sake. He'd only spilled blood once, and even that was barely enough for him to break a sweat. He wanted some action, some excitement. His search for the Wizard had gone strangely cold, and he hated to come back from a hunt empty handed...so to speak. The coin here at The Lair was impressive, but he'd have thought with a sign as bawdy as the one that swung over the door, there would have been a little more heat than he'd seen. Luthain took a long drat from his ale, and as he set it back on the table, a newcomer came through the door. The man moved with the smooth, easy grace and confidence of a man who know how to handle himself in a dangerous situation. The man was dressed in finely cut trousers, silver worked thigh boots, a linen shirt and a silk doublet. His long, shining black hair was held back with a bandanna and his beard was trimmed and oiled. Altogether, he struck a very dashing figure. As the newcomer gazed around the common room, it seemed he was catalouging and appraising everything down to the last copper penny. Now and then, his eyes would linger appreciatively on a fine work of art, an expensive ring on a finger, or an extremely attractive serving wench. When his eyes locked onto Luthain's, they froze. Suddenly, the man was alert and cautious. He found an empty seat at a table near the door, and eased into it carefully, keeping Luthain in view the entire time. Luthain sighed, and reached behind him to retrieve the cudgel. He tucked the thick oak stave behind his broad leather belt and walked over the stranger's table. Without preamble, he dropped into the chair opposite the man, and gave him a hard up and down glance. "You're not from around here," Luthain growled. "On the contrary, my good man," The stranger said, flashing him a grin, "I was born just the other side of the river. Of course, 'round these parts that really makes all the difference in the world..... depending on who you ask, of course." Luthain shook his head, "Don't give a harpy's thin tail feather where you were born. You ain' from 'round here. I woulda seen ya." The stranger smiled again, this time seeming mrore genuine, "Indeed, I suppose you would have," He replied, "No one can resist the Cat's Lair, and Mistress Li'Anna's charms. How is the Mistress, eh?" The man asked, with a slight wink and a nod. Luthain felt his face heating, "I wouldn't know," He grumbled. The man threw his head back and laughed once, "Me neither, friend, but I was hoping to find out. Let me buy you a drink." Luthain slammed his open palm flat on the table with a loud wham, "I'm not interested in a drink. And I'm not your friend. I came to tell you, I've seen thieves before and I've dealth with them. You pilfer from anyone in this tavern, and I'll take a finger from you. Do it again, and I'll keep a hand. Got it?" The man swallowed, and nodded once, "I can see you are a man of some....experience.... I can appreciate that, one professional to another. I am Dorian Andrael, and I give you my word that I won't steal anything from anyone under this roof." Luthain nodded, and rose to leave, his business done, but Dorian caught his wrist. Luthain froze, and turned to pierce Dorian with a rock hard, icy stare. Dorian quickly let go, "Sorry, but I had a question.... where are you from?" Luthain's eyes narrowed, but he didn't reply. "The only reason I ask," Dorian said, "Is because I met a man once with a similar accent. You remind me of him, actually.... though you are much more....well.... frightening." "Brae," Luthain said after another moment of speculation, "I am from Brae." Dorian immediately snapped his fingers and nodded, "Brae! That's it!" He exclaimed, "Veyttin of Brae!" Luthain had Dorian by the throat in an instant. He lifted the smaller man easily out of his seat and held him at eye level. Dorian's toes barely kept him from choking. "Listen to me very carefully," Luthain said, "That man was my brother and he is dead now. You're going to tell me where you met him and, if need be, show me. Understand?" Dorian nodded his head slightly, so Luthain relaxed his grip and let the man fall back into his seat. "It was in a small town south of here," Dorian gasped, rubbing his throat, "The Village of Paws, Southern Settlement. I only met him the one time at a tavern there.... the Siren's Call. I would have told you, if you'd only asked." Luthain snorted, "I'm sure. And I'm sure it would have cost me a king's ransom to get it out of you too. This way I save your time and my coin." MistressLi"Anna came stalking up, her face pale with rage, "LUTHAIN! You great ox of an Ettin's mother! I am going to hang you from your short hairs and skin you alive for this-" Luthain turned, and in two steps had the Mistress in his huge arms. He kissed her long, and hard. And when he sat her back on the ground, she leaned against him for a moment, then punched him hard in the ribs. Luthain grinned, "It was well worth it. If I ever come back to Britain, darling, we shall have to continue this discussion in private." He turned and offered his hand to Dorian, "I am Luthain of Brae, Dorian Andrael. Shall we go to Paws?"
Dorian led the way down the Broken Road. So far, the journey had been quiet, and he was thankful for it. The man who walked a dozen steps behind him, axe in hand, made him nervous. He hadn't said much since they'd left Britain behind, and Dorian was becoming uncomfortably aware of the fact that there were no guards within earshot. He was on his own. It wasn't something Dorian was neccessarily unaccustomed to; quite the contrary, actually. He had been on his own for most of his life, and that is what had shaped him into the man he had become. He took a deep breath in through his nose, and out through his mouth. It would be a shame to have to kill this Luthain. The man seemed honest enough, and he was definitely honorable. Dorian hoped he was prudent as well. His boots echoed suddenly as he crossed the rough, weathered planks of an ancient bridge. Halfway across, Luthain stopped, his face suddenly somber. "This is Krolhm's Crossing," Luthain said reverently, "I have heard the tale many times, but never thought I would stand where he stood..." Dorian frowned in conufsion, so Luthain continued, "My seventh great-father stood here, on this bridge, and held the Orcs back for a day and a half. He was alone, but he was a HouseKarl. He stood, and the enemy fell. That was the way of things. Eventually, the Orcs sent a raft down river from the highlands with orcs feining death. When the came under the bridge, the jumped to life and stabbed up through the planks with long pikes, killing Krohlm." Luthain ran a hand along one of the handrails, his voice soft and heavy. "Krohlm held the orcs long enough for Japheth the Scribe to reach Trinsic to the south." Luthain growled, "Read your histories, for Fate's sake! In any case, Japheth warned the paladins, and they evacuated the city before the Orcs got here. Japheth recorded the burning of Trinsic from a hill far to the south, well away from the fires. Still, it is a good read, if you can find it." Dorian snorted, "I know, I have several original copies from Japheth himself." Luthain's eyes narrowed, "You know the histories, thief?" Dorian coughed, and almost spat, "As I tried to tell you in the Cat's Lair, I'm not a bloody thief. I am a travelling man. A finder of lost things... and, fi the money is right..... the loser of found things. But I am not, in any way, a thief!" Dorian turned and broke a rough trail through the dense underbrush of the southern woods. He left the Broken Road behind, and forged ahead among the trunks themselvs. Luthain had no choice but to follow, or be left behind on the road. He tightened his grip on his axe, and dove into the woods. Dorian stayed just within eyesight, and Luthain struggled to keep up. Suddenly, Luthain broke into a small clearing. Dorian stood there, eyeing him as if appraising a puzzling antique or an unidentified gemstone. Finally, the nodded his head back and to the left. "If you keep going South West," Dorian said, "You'll see the glow of the Shrine of Spirituality on the horizon. Aim for it. Paws is the Village that has sprung up around the shrine. The Siren's Call is to the Southwest of the shrine. That's where I saw your brother." The wind suddenly shifted, bringing with it the smell of sulfer and burt hair. A brief echo of the words of power Vas Ort Flam carried on the wind. Dorian chuckle to himself, "You may be in for a treat, Luthain of Brae," Dorian said, "It sounds like the Wizard is nearby." Luthain's eyes narrowed, and his skin suddenly felt cold and clammy. "This Wizrd," Luthain replied, "What is his name?" Dorian looked puzzled, "Everyone knows that," He answered, "It's Jupiter."
Dorian stepped out into the clearing, and flourished grandiosely with one hand. "Welcome to the Shrine of Spirituality," He said, with a half bow, "And the Southern Settlement of the Village of Paws. May I remind you, once again, that I have no official connection with this place? I told you, I passed through here once. One TIME! And I happened to bump into your brother, Veyttin." Luthain chuckled to himself, "Yes, so you've said. And I say again to you, do you think we came to each other by accident? You came strutting into the one brothel in Britain where I happen to be working security, temporarily. Tell me, does security usually pick you out from a crowd the way I did?" Dorian suddenly pulled up short. He hadn't thought about it from that angle. It was true, he could pretty much talk his way into or out of just about any situation. In fact, the very night he'd stumbled on this psychopath's brother, he'd also talked himself into going on a quest with a band of adventurers. Jupiter had led the charge through Destard. Oddly enough, all Dorian had been required to do was catch a few fish. Now, though, he looked at this axe-wielding Luthain with a new eye. "No," Dorian said after a long moment of contemplation, "Security is usually the last person to see me coming." Luthain smiled, "And yet I spotted you across a crowded common room and knew you were trouble. Does that sound like chance?" "No," Dorian replied again, "It sounds like Fate." Luthain smiled as he registered the capital "F". "I met a woman once in a tavern," Luthain said, "She had the most piercing green eyes, and she told me something." "Oh?" Dorian asked, trying to keep his voice level, "And what was that?" "She told me to find Jupiter," Luthain replied, nodding towards the shrine, "You say you met him here? Well, then here is where I am going to stay for a while." Dorian shrugged slightly, "Do what you want, I have lived up to my end. Now, am I free to go?" Luthain nodded, "Of course. A bargain is a bargain, Dorian. But I don't think you'll go just yet." Dorian snorted, "You're wrong friend. I have much more profitable places to be and people to see." Luthain smiled, "I'm sure that's true. But I'm just as sure Fate isn't done with you yet, either." Before Dorian could make a reply, Luthain walked past him, toward the shrine.
