Salem

Ashleyyy said:

Mera would be sitting at her table and continue her teasing and talking with the goblin as it was only small talk for now they were chatting about. Seeing another patron walking over to their table she would cork an eyebrow as she saw him talking to her company and her ' guest' now and would sigh softly.

Hearing his words there would be more and more disdain onto her face but she kept her mouth closed for now but would give him a look as he freely took the goblins seat. Looking him over she would slowly pull her foot back and looked him over "The name is Mera and you just send away my company can i ask why ?" she said and would let a soft sigh escape , she saw the half orc appearing male and wasn't to surprised as she had heard rumors of their kind and would add " Also there no need to be so rude to the poor girl you scared her shitless now and as for ruining your appetite the meat will do that for you " she said and would bring her own cup to her lips and took a long sip " you do have balls i'll give you that to just come sit at a strangers table "

Her fairly long legs crossing themselves over one another as she remained in her slouched position wondering what his story would be or his excuse. Not knowing he was a regular she would just sit there as she had noticed the looks over her and her clothing but kept silent for now about that.

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“What I told your ‘company’ is true. She’s a slave, she is supposed to do her job, which is bringing food and drink and being used as a breeding machine for more slaves.” He took a bite of the food on his newfound plate. “My name is Amos,” He added between bites, “And I’m curious why someone such as yourself, who looks like they’re dressed for battle, is here.”

He took a drink again, admiring the taste for a moment, “Don’t worry, in a few moments my food will be brought over, and I’m sure that you will get some extra brought over for you, with apologies,” Amos added. “In all of my years coming here, they tend to want to right the wrongs.”

As was his habit, he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking out her body, even while she was slouched. In his mind, that didn’t make things better since he started to wonder what her elven body would look like slouched on a bed. “So, why are you dressed as if you’re about to go into war?” He inquired as he saw the goblin come back with more food for both of them.

FireyIce said:

“What I told your ‘company’ is true. She’s a slave, she is supposed to do her job, which is bringing food and drink and being used as a breeding machine for more slaves.” He took a bite of the food on his newfound plate. “My name is Amos,” He added between bites, “And I’m curious why someone such as yourself, who looks like they’re dressed for battle, is here.”

He took a drink again, admiring the taste for a moment, “Don’t worry, in a few moments my food will be brought over, and I’m sure that you will get some extra brought over for you, with apologies,” Amos added. “In all of my years coming here, they tend to want to right the wrongs.”

As was his habit, he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking out her body, even while she was slouched. In his mind, that didn’t make things better since he started to wonder what her elven body would look like slouched on a bed. “So, why are you dressed as if you’re about to go into war?” He inquired as he saw the goblin come back with more food for both of them.

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Mera would hear the words being spoken by and from the male half orc in front of her seated now. Hearing him talk she would make a little face as she knew what place this was but still wanted to treat people with respect. She learned his name was Amos and would nodded her head towards him in a greeting fashion once again.

Hearing his question she would smile softly

" Well that's fairly simple i got bored and wanted some company besides trees and plant's so i came here as for my dressing way well an elf has to protect herself especially with certain creatures lurking around " she said calmly and looked at him.

"Well it's a good thing they gonna refresh the food it's my first time here and i hope this can be a satisfying experience " she said and looked around , emptying her cup of wine and would look at him " so Amos what brings you here ? " she asked in return.

" As for my way of dressing well i often wander the woods and at times they can be cold and dangerous so i try to keep myself protected and well nobody stopped me when i walked in or asked for a coat so theres that although i don't mind having my stuff closeby always handy if you ask me " she saud and would remain in her position. Seeing the Goblin return she would gently ask for a refill of her wine as well and digging into her refreshed food and meal and looked towards him wondering what he would do or say next

Amos listened to her and her reasoning for still being dressed the way that she was. “It’s very understandable that you would want to protect yourself,” He mentioned to Mera as he looked just as calmly at her as he expected she was looking at him. “I’m usually here when I’m between jobs,” Amos stated with not wanting to give too much away. It had been a while since he had a conversation where it felt like a graceful dance of words and actions.

He watched as she set down the cup, hearing, as he was very well use to in this establishment, was a hollow sound. Without thinking about it, he handed the cup he had over to her. “I don’t want you to be thirsty.” As he watched the goblin bring back more food, he heard the request for a refill. “Bring a fresh bottle,” he told goblin as she walked past him.

“Aside from keeping the workers working, I’m hoping that you don’t have any bad first impressions so far. As for me, I don’t mind if someone thinks somewhat less of me with a first impression. That’s how it usually goes with being profile,” he admitted. He took a bite, one more civilized than what stories of Half-Orcs had lead others to believe, of his food, taking his time eating it.

“Any idea on how long you’ll be staying?” Amos asked as he took a break between bites. “There are some rooms here that are fairly warm, so you don’t need to be cold at night,” he mentioned with the slightest of grins.

Mera would look at him and smile softly as she heard his words " well I'm glad you somewhat understand not everyone does so, or is being stupid and stubborn about it " she said.Hearing that he was mostly here between jobs she wasn't to surprised but would ask anyway" what is it the job you do and what draws you to this place ?" she asked now towards him.

Seeing the Goblin bring more food and being offered hsi cup she would blink a bit but would accept it "thanks " she said , bringing the cup to her soft lips nd drinking almost three quarters out of it and heard him ordering a new bottle.

"No the place isn't to bad it's kinda cozy i like it " she said in reaction to his question and would laugh " well as for first impressions i can see that happening that people think less of you due to your kinds brutish nature , same can be said about mine " she added to him and watch him cutting and eating his meat now.

"Uhmmm not sure I mean i have time to stay thats no biggie just have to find a reason to as well " she said back to him and smirked now as the wine was having its effect to of making her tongue looser " well that's good id hate to be cold at night i do enjoy being nicely warm"

“This place is a place of refuge, for the most part. Aside from the show earlier between the owner and her ‘guest’, it’s fairly tame.” He took a few bites of food before continuing. “Outside of that, the idea of violence doesn’t really go in this place. The last person that incited violence and tried to start a huge brawl got swept under the rug. Literally.”

As he continued eat with Mera, he thought about how to answer her question about his job. After opening the new bottle of wine, he poured some more for both of them. “I help find people,” he added as he took a quick drink. “What happens when they’re found, well…” he trailed off, “That’s up to what my employer wants done. What kind of work do you do, Mera?”

He noticed the small details during their dinner. How she ate, where she was looking as she was eating. There were small signs of her scanning around, while some signs of her looking at him. The details he liked, however, were the ones he didn’t have to search far and wide for; the smirk, the loosening of her lips, the relaxed posture.

Though the expected glaring of her soft Elven skin was expected, he continued to make it be known that his contact continued, slowly, to go down her eyes, to her lips, her chin, and stop just above her chest. He was hoping that with the wine, she would start to feel as relaxed as she was with the goblin.

" Oh I see well a place of refuge could also be a very good thing I mean its better then having people sleep in the streets like rats " she said as she knew those images as well. Laughing a bit at his words she would smile " well not to worry I'm not a violent type myself " she said and shuffled a bit around now.

Opening up her coat a bit she would notice her cup was filled again and took a big sip from the whine. " So you're saying like you're a bounty hunter Amos ?" she said and asked now in return and would laugh" I'm not that interesting I'm just a forest guardian. I keep stuff safe and make sure they stay so "

Drinking a bit more she would eat a few more vegetables and looked him over as he didn't seemed to e to bad and would just relax some more herself now and would lean in a bit towards him and could see and feel his eyes on her body and would laugh softly as she indeed extended her leg somewat out now as it was close to where it had been with the goblin before

Amos figured that he had a quizzical look on his face as he thought about his actual profession. “More assassin, less bounty hunter, pretty much full thief. If someone wants to be silenced, well…” he allowed his voice to trail off again with the implication. “Also, dead individuals don’t need things.”

He watched as Mera started to undo her coat. The view of the cleavage was very pronounced. There was no doubt that pretty much any of the males, and probably a good portion of the females, would have a hard time not looking. “Well, sometimes those who can’t fend for themselves need to be protected, so it’s not bad. At least it’s a noble job,” he said as he ate some more.

There was a bit of a larger smile when he heard her laugh. Again, the wine was refilled in both of their cups, though not as much as Mera was given. “It is nice that you don’t discriminate with who you show affection for,” he mentioned as he felt her leg gently start to rub against his. He spread his legs a bit wide, wondering how affectionate she would be. The view he was given of her breasts were fantastic. He watched as they hung as if they were wanting to be rested on the table. He took a piece of meat from his plate and offered it to her. “If you don’t like this kind of meat, perhaps there’s a different kind that you would enjoy?” he inquired as one of his hands disappeared to the side of the table and found her knee.

Mera would hear him speak and would nod in understanding and smiled " well then it might be handy to have an assassin friend ready then " she smirked and would nod " well dead things indeed don't need their stuff you kind of have a point there " she agreed a bit with him.

Seeing him look and a portio of the club she would blush some but she had just gotten it to warm to keep her coat on any longer so she kept things like they were now and did her best not to focus to much on the stuff happening around her.

Seeing yet another cup she would take a few sips and looked at him " well when you're always alone in the woods it's nice to have company" she said and felt his leg with hers and rubbed it softly before moving her feet slowly higher and higher as she was tipsy enough to play this game and looked at him. "well I'm not a meat eater there are a few kinds i enjoy " she said and leaned in and would try to pull the piece from between his fingers as she felt his hand on her knee but didn't moved it away and just kept looking at him instead

Amos took the piece of meat that Mera was trying to get and ate it. He had a small smile, though very visible from his previous ones, and looked at her. Instead, he took another piece, this time it was a lot bigger, and pushed it into her mouth. “Eat up, Mera,” Amos told her as he looked at her eyes. He watched as she consumed it, curious as to what her response was going to be.

He leaned in closer to her, his hand following suit feeling part of her stocking, then skin as it went higher to her inner thigh. “If you aren’t enjoying the many eyes, since, you know, you’re usually surrounded by animals, just let me know and we can go to somewhere more private. We can even make sure that any other food or delicacies are brought to us,” Amos offered as his mouth was closer to her ear. He could hear her heart at least beating a bit harder and faster than before.

Was a bit surprised as he pulled the meat away before she could even get a good taste and chew on it. Seeing his smile she would wait a bit now and could see and feel that it was a bigger stuff and would blush out as she felt it being pushed into her mouth.

Mera would start to chew a bit into it but not being a meat eater she had no clue what it was or what she was eating. Trying to do as he asked and also because she had a little competitiveness in her she would swallow the meat away and would gasp out , showing him her mouth and would chuckle as she sipped another few sips of wine away.

Gasping slightly and clenching her hands somewhat as she felt his hand moving higher and higher know over and on top of her body now. " I wouldn't mind a more private area they look like they never seen an elf before " she groaned out now " if that's okay with you of course " she joked back to him and would wait to see what hed do next as she moved her feet up and laid her leg on his knee now

“Elves are not very common, nor very flirty. At least not here,” Amos pointed out to her. “Still treated better than goblins, though.” He felt her leg start to rest on his knee. There was no mistaking the tension that was there. Her willingness to join him, for whatever reason, he didn’t care too much about, was enough. As she opened her mouth to show off that she had just indeed contradicting herself with saying she didn’t like meat, but just polished off a bigger piece than she was originally offered, he couldn’t resist and leaned in to kiss her. It wasn’t very long and the look in his eyes after the kiss broke pretty much wrote the book itself.

“Slave!” Amos called out as he moved his head over towards the goblin, his voice commanding and recognized without a problem. In no time did the goblin show back up, a small displeased look on her face as she saw how the two of them were.

“Yes, Amos?” she asked, nervous more so than earlier.

He looked at the goblin and stated, “Bring some dessert and wine to my room. Make sure it’s there before I get there.” As soon as he spoke those words, there wasn’t even an acknowledgement as he saw the goblin scurry off. He looked back at Mera, not sure if her look would be disapproving or not. Perhaps, he thought to himself, she was too intoxicated to care. His hand had moved from the inside of her thigh to the outside, taking it’s time to go around to her ass. Though part of it was him playing with her, the other part was so that the goblin could get things ready.

In a fell swoop, Amos stood up and had lifted Mera up with him. Though it was effortless, he watched as she positioned herself on his body as he carried her as a new groom would carry his bride. The fact that almost everyone was watching had no effect on him as he stood up straight and carried her to his room that he had.

Once inside the room, he sat her down on the bed and walked over to a chair to sit. “Perhaps you would like to show me how grateful you are to make sure that you’ve been fed and given plenty of drink? All while being out of range from all of those hounds?” Amos implied as he took off his shirt, exposing his chest to Mera from across the room. He was curious how she would act, wondering if she would put on a show for him or do something else.

" Hmmm I see well now they've seen an elf then " she laughed and chuckled somewhat towards him.Her leg still resting on his kneee she would see him coming in an would feel a kiss on her lips as she showed off her mouth off and would kiss slightly back before it was broken and would blush somewhat now.

"Oh my I didn't expected that from a half orc " she laughed but turned somewhat serious as she saw the goblin and it being ordered around once more.

Feeling his hand move over the inside of her leg to then over the outside and her ass she would eep somewhat as she was lifted and made sure her weapons weren't in the way now , grabbing her arm around his neck for support her body would lean and press against his as her breast were resting against his skin as well.

Being put down onto the bed she would smirk as she was indeed quite far away from the wine and would hear his words and see his bare chest " well indeed I am taken away although i have a feeling there's a big hound still gonna do a thing " she laughed and would look at him.

Letting her caught fall fully open now , she would place it onto the side of the bed and would put her weapons there as well as she made sure she sat onto her knees on the bed and would remove layer of layer of clothing till she reached her undies and would thn , softly but surely crawl toards him , hoping he had something like this in mind

As Amos watched Mera take her coat off, there was no doubt that she was beautiful. He drank in every detail with his eyes as he saw layer after layer of clothing being stripped away. He reached over and grabbed the bottle of wine. As he opened it, he watched as Mera crawled over to him. He enjoyed how primal she was acting. Soon, both would be acting very primal.

As he watched her hair sway back and forth, as she came closer, her bra and panties the only remaining garments, he sat the drink back down and pulled down his pants. His member sprang to life, no hindrance of what Mera helped create with her foot earlier. “I think you will enjoy this piece of meat a lot more. Especially with the special coating,” Amos added as he started to pour some of the wine on it as she got next to him.

Mera would look over at him as her c cupped breast was still hidden away for now and same as her other treasure , her long blonde hair indeed moving and bouncing with her movements she would laugh some now as she was feeling rather silly.

Seeing him lowering his pants and hos cock coming out she would grin as she had came closer and next to him at this point " well depends if it's good meat or not " she said with a smirks as she started to lap at the wine , around and off its hardening and throbbing cock now and would grin as she savored the taste of the wine and looked at him " not bad indeed " she said moving over and taking place between his legs as she kept drinking from his hard shaft but made sure not to suck him just yet. He was teasing and playing and she would attempt to tease him now as well in return and would move her soft delicate hands to his sac and cupped his balls

There were moans of pleasure coming from the mouth of Amos as he listened and watched Mera lap up the wine on his hardened member. He moved his hands down and began to run them through her hair as she continued to lick around, teasing him before cupping his balls.

It wasn’t long before his hands went down from her hair to her back. He undid her bra and watched as it slowly disappeared to a degree. “God, Mera, you’re so good,” he told her as he poured more wine around her face and his cock. He was just waiting for her hunger to get to be so much that she wanted to devour his hardened member.

Mera would smirk and look up as she saw and felt his member hardening more and more now with her tongue lapping over and around it and smirked somewhat. Feeling his hand going through her hair she would blush somewhat and would grab his shaft with one hand and coming up somewhat as she felt her bra sliding down her body, revealing her silken soft elven skin and her C cupped breasts now towards him.

"Thank you Amos for your kind words " she chuckled as she felt him pouring more over his cock and her face and would drink the wine away as fast as she could before looking in his eyes and opening her mouth somewhat , leaning forward she would let her soft lips roll over the tip of his cock and would close her mouth right behind it and started to suck somewhat and tasted the scent of wine into her mouth and would rotate her tongue over the sensitive head of him.

Being the silly tease that she was she would carefully let her teeth come down into it as she was curious to see how he would react to this view and sensation now as she indeed was getting quite hungry

Obuzeti said:

"In isolation, yes," Harrow says, agreeably. "However, applying the principles of catoptromancy to light refraction multiplies its usefulness exponentially. A simple reflection is boringly easy and limited, but altering the medium and the refractive focus has fascinating results. The trick is getting the, aheh, "mirror" enchantment to stick, for lack of a better term yet. You have to apply it to the light itself, if you don't just sideslip the material. That's proving difficult."

He grins, honestly thrilled. "But if I can enchant light, all sorts of avenues open up."

The roots and tendrils withdraw now, as he warms to his favorite topic: magic, and the theory thereof. The pillow reemerges, unscathed, and a faint clatter like a rattlesnake's trademark warning arises as he peers at the slave he'd brought alongside Abigail, completely ignoring her stealing the sealed banshees. "She was hunting them - stalking the families whom the banshees presided over, and killing them to summon the spirit itself. If I'm not mistaken, those are the Cliodhana, Aibhill, and O'Connelan banshees, in particular - those being the bloodlines she staked out."

Harrow's expression turns musing, as his serpent half coils and writhes instinctively, the arms that compose it shifting restlessly as he thinks, hypnotic and disturbing. "Her pulse still hasn't returned, so the ritual has stripped her mortality even now, but she hasn't ceased animation either - so she's clearly taken some of their vitality for herself. Maybe she was attempting to drain their powers? I admit, this sort of consumptive binding is much more your area of expertise than mine."

He flicks another bead of green light at Carianna, which impacts her and briefly highlights her entire skeleton from within, as the pulse scans her body thoroughly. No heartbeat, no bloodflow, no brain activity - which means her sentience is being maintained through some other, arcane means, even past the banshee binding.

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"Light is all well and good, until you need darkness." Abigail flexed her long fingers, extending each digit fully outward. She whispered an incantation, and inky black smoke poured from her outstretched palms. The smoke flowed forward, moving almost like liquid, and quickly surrounded the slave. It spun around her, black tendrils covering her pale skin, until nothing but an empty human shaped void remained. Abigail watched for a moment, frozen in concentration, until a thin red line appeared in the void. A tendril of black nothing slithered through the air towards Abigail, stopping when it touched her chest. The red line quickly followed, disappearing underneath Abigail's top with the shadow.

"Just as I suspected," Abigail said, ending the spell. The darkness disappeared, leaving both Abigail and the slave unmarred. "This runestone is doubling as what is essentially a phylactery. This girl may well be trying to cheat her way to lichdom. You know kids these days, just deciding undeath is the only way to immortality," Abigail sighs, a weariness appearing on her face, the expression revealing her true age for a moment before her pale features set back into their normal mask of boredom. "This girl is a rare combination of powerful, stupid, and impatient. I'd recommend killing her, which admittedly won't be easy, but she's too powerful to be kept as a slave. That being said, she's your problem, not mine. What you do with her is up to you. But I won't be needing this any longer," Abigail tossed the small runestone to the warlock, before climbing up the dais and settling back onto her throne.

The mention of lichdom kills the delighted interest on Harrow's face off in a heartbeat, closing it off into a porcelain expression of the finest contempt. "One of these failures, then," he murmurs, and takes the phylactery, then draws a rune on the open air that fizzles with arcane energies - it pops like a soap bubble, and the runestone flickers from existence. The slave doubles over and would have screamed except Harrow pulls the leash in a way such that it constricts, nearly slicing her head off completely. The wail chokes away and the slave's form neatly disintegrates, crumpling into dust that is vacuumed up into a bubble that forms on the reverse side of the leash around the head, which collapses last with a silent, mournful howl.

The runestone phases back into Harrow's grasp, and he hands it to one of his multitude of lower arms to be tucked away with a disapproving tut. "Whatever foolishness you engage in, Abigail, you've always have the sense to keep your soul tied to your flesh. Tuck it away in some trinket, and all sorts of singularly awful things can happen."

He rises and slithers closer to the witch's throne; ironically, the raw size of his body puts him level with her even when she is upon it, though he remains a respectful five feet distant. "What malaise ails you now, dear?" Harrow murmurs, voice soft. "Boredom finally settling in its long fingers upon your bones? The longer you live, the more you must seek out your whimsy, or fade to silence. You must know this."

Abigail downs her entire glass of wine and looks away for a moment, her mind trapped in a far away memory. After a few long silent moments she looks at Harrow. "I have secrets even you cannot unlock Harrow. And I intend to keep those secrets as they are," Abigail takes another sip from her perpetually refilling goblet of wine before sighing again. "Salem is beginning to lose its charm. I've been thinking of moving on to something else. Perhaps after Roxy dies. In any case, your concern is touching, although I doubt its sincerity," She stands and slowly descends the stairs from her throne. She approaches the spot where the slave died, and kneels down to touch the cold stone.

"Perhaps we do share a common sentiment. It always saddens me to see a powerful caster waste their abilities on petty tricks. I know someday I will die. I will be overtaken by a younger more powerful wizard. He'll destroy me, my name. Take everything I've made for myself, and twist it to his own gain," Abigail was speaking to herself now, her wine and grief erasing Harrow's presence from her mind. "He'll shove me in his damned book, and think himself so clever. Then he'll waste every fucking year he has, chasing a myth!" Abigail turns around, her glass shattering in her hand, splashing a crimson mixture of blood and wine on her floor. "I have entertained you here for far too long, Harrow. You will leave this place now, or you will not live to see another day." Abigail hissed, steel in her voice, and literal fire burning in her eyes.

Harrow's head tilts, and the sullen beat of his glass heart stills for a moment as he looks over Abigail: monstrous, a great and unholy thing in this most private of sanctums. The slow clatter of marble fingernail on tile silences itself as the limb-scales of his body pause. In the drowned mass of his ebony hair, he looks at her, and between the two of them in this grand and empty hall, it is not clear which has the less humanity remaining to them.

Then Harrow places his hand over his chest and inclines his head, emerald eyes glinting in the dark-kelp strands of his hair. "Survive, and rise again, o witch," he says, soft, as close to a benediction as he can offer. Then he turns and slithers up the stair, the steady susurrus of palm against tile his escort as he takes his leave from this place, sliding from the face of this plane in the shadows of his ascent. The golden collar trails behind, sliding along the tile with a steady crackle; topped by a glimmering bubble, with the ghostly mirage of a woman's face weeping as framed by shining dust.

The doors to Salem open, and a figure stumbles through - its colors faded, flickering, like an old watercolor or a CRT television. It looks like nothing so much but a thrift store's laundry pile, an old ill-tailored suit piled with driving gloves, old leather cowboy boots, two toboggans, ski goggles, three scarves, and a incongruously-yellow fanny pack and backpack combo that is eye-searingly bright. It's a fashion disaster even if it had come together at an expo for the blind.

But the way it moves puts a lie to the thing's humanity, and loose clothing and fabric from nearby patrons pulls and sways in its wake as it makes its way forward to a side table, where it awkwardly piles in, one leg up and peering out around the crowd while the toboggans rest somewhere under the seat. It'd be funny if there wasn't an eye in the leg of that sleeve, something so enormous only the bare fringe of the iris and a pupil are visible. The fabric of its attire shift, strain and bulge as it jerks to the side and waves once for attention from some member of the staff, heedless of the fact that the booth it'd sat at was occupied by a now-furious minotaur, though its horns had been replaced with tuning forks and its teeth were plinking, ivory piano keys, discordant jangling and humming tunes replacing bovine roars as it gestures at the heavy mug of mead it'd left on the table.

It'll get it, because if poltergeists had disappointed fathers, and those fathers prayed to old heathen gods of blood, sacrifice, and shitty taste in clothing, those old and savage deities would be a spitting image of this sad pile of clothing tucked into a side booth, because the human eye was never meant to perceive what lurks, hatefully compressed, beneath an ill-fit mound of clothing to preserve the lives of those walking around it. Lho-Ffhram is the last of the Sin Eaters, and he has gorged beyond satiety on the bounty left to him in the gaping absence of his consumed peers.

The awkward mound snarls, a sound like a conveyor belt the size of a eighteen wheel catching, and slaps one of the pianotaur's with the end of a scarf. The limp-wristed blow snaps the thing clean off to scutter across the floor and pounds him into the floor with a quavering smash of the keys, hard enough to instantly knock the lumbering beastman unconscious. Lho-Ffhram pushes him with a sleeve into the next (now unoccupied) booth's leg room, then picks up the mug and shoves it into the slumped neckhole of the suit. It doesn't come back out.

Obuzeti said:

The doors to Salem open, and a figure stumbles through - its colors faded, flickering, like an old watercolor or a CRT television. It looks like nothing so much but a thrift store's laundry pile, an old ill-tailored suit piled with driving gloves, old leather cowboy boots, two toboggans, ski goggles, three scarves, and a incongruously-yellow fanny pack and backpack combo that is eye-searingly bright. It's a fashion disaster even if it had come together at an expo for the blind.

But the way it moves puts a lie to the thing's humanity, and loose clothing and fabric from nearby patrons pulls and sways in its wake as it makes its way forward to a side table, where it awkwardly piles in, one leg up and peering out around the crowd while the toboggans rest somewhere under the seat. It'd be funny if there wasn't an eye in the leg of that sleeve, something so enormous only the bare fringe of the iris and a pupil are visible. The fabric of its attire shift, strain and bulge as it jerks to the side and waves once for attention from some member of the staff, heedless of the fact that the booth it'd sat at was occupied by a now-furious minotaur, though its horns had been replaced with tuning forks and its teeth were plinking, ivory piano keys, discordant jangling and humming tunes replacing bovine roars as it gestures at the heavy mug of mead it'd left on the table.

It'll get it, because if poltergeists had disappointed fathers, and those fathers prayed to old heathen gods of blood, sacrifice, and shitty taste in clothing, those old and savage deities would be a spitting image of this sad pile of clothing tucked into a side booth, because the human eye was never meant to perceive what lurks, hatefully compressed, beneath an ill-fit mound of clothing to preserve the lives of those walking around it. Lho-Ffhram is the last of the Sin Eaters, and he has gorged beyond satiety on the bounty left to him in the gaping absence of his consumed peers.

The awkward mound snarls, a sound like a conveyor belt the size of a eighteen wheel catching, and slaps one of the pianotaur's with the end of a scarf. The limp-wristed blow snaps the thing clean off to scutter across the floor and pounds him into the floor with a quavering smash of the keys, hard enough to instantly knock the lumbering beastman unconscious. Lho-Ffhram pushes him with a sleeve into the next (now unoccupied) booth's leg room, then picks up the mug and shoves it into the slumped neckhole of the suit. It doesn't come back out.

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Roxy worriedly kicked at the sand. She chewed on her lip, her go-to nervous habit, as she wondered what was happening with her mistress, Abigail, and with her home, Salem. Abigail Williams was a very powerful witch, but Roxy always worried about her mistress. That was Roxy's job after all, and she was proud to do it. When Abigail forgot to eat, Roxy would be there with a platter of food. When Abigail left Salem, Roxy kept things running smoothly. And on the very rare occasions when Abigail Williams' mask slipped, Roxy was there to remind her who and what she was. Roxy loved Abigail. Abigail was everything to her, a mother, a master, a lover, and perhaps even a friend. And now, Abigial was dealing with that horrible thing, Harrow! Roxy couldn't take the stress any longer. She had to go back. "Bella I have to go back," Roxy said to the mermaid lazily circling in the clear ocean water. "Just try to relax and enjoy yourself. And don't stray too far... If you can," Roxy said, her eyes already turned towards Salem. "Like I have a choice," Bella replied bitterly. "Just go. Let me enjoy the water while I can," She said, diving deeper into the sea. Roxy gave Bella a little wave before turning away from the water and rushing for Salem.

Salem was odd, even by the standards of Lusthaven. While most of the buildings seemed right at home on the tropical paradise, Salem seemed completely out of place. A large gothic cathedral, complete with gargoyles and grey clouds overhead, nestled on white sands between palm trees. Yes, Salem was out of place here, but that was part of its charm. Roxy understood what it was to feel out of place, and her empathy with the dark palace made her love it even more. Even if it was Salem itself that made her look odd in comparison. A tanned, smiling teenager in a bright sundress certainly stuck out in a room full of leatherclad pale weirdos. Compared to the patrons of Salem, Roxy was rather ordinary. But being ordinary in a strange place, that made Roxy the odd one. Not the she minded. She could win over the coldest and meanest of monsters given enough time. Roxy loved Abigial, and she loved Salem, but she wasn't like either one of the larger than life beings. She was just... Roxy.

"Roxxxy!" A drunken gnome with purple hair slurred at the still nervous looking human as she entered Salem. "Roxy baby, c'mere. I' *hic* I' misse' you so much," he said, drunkenly staggering towards Roxy. "It's good to see you too Gly..." Roxy stopped mid-sentence as the drunken gnome passed out and tumbled forward. Roxy narrowly caught him before he thudded to the floor. "Silly man," she giggled to herself as she dragged the now snoring gnome over to a pile of cushions. She settled him on the soft surface and blew him a kiss before heading towards the stairwell. She made it halfway to the stairs before she was stopped by what sounded like a piano falling from a building. "Never a dull moment..." she sighed, giving one last longing look at the staircase before turning away and heading to the booth that was the source of the sound. She stepped over an unconscious minotaur, keeping her eyes as far away from the injured creature as she could, and came face to... Well not face to face. Face to, well she wasn't really quite sure what she was looking at, but that didn't matter. Roxy wasn't about to turn away a customer, even an especially rowdy and strange one.

"Hello there, and welcome to Salem!" Roxy said with a cheerful voice and bright smile. She tried to ignore the fact that both her hair and dress were being pulled towards this... Whatever it was. "My name is Roxy. I don't believe that we've met yet. But I'm sure we'll be good friends soon enough!" she said, her cheerful optimism completely sincere. "Can I get you something to eat or drink? Or perhaps a companion?" she asked him, ignoring the pair of gargoyles dragging the unconscious minotaur behind her. "Also, if I could make a small request of you? I know everyone bumps heads from time to time, but I hate seeing anyone being injured. That poor minotaur is going to have to go to the healer now, and that's never any fun. Could you keep the violence to a minimum? Please?" she asked, an uncertain smile on her pretty face.

The suit twists to regard Roxy. One sleeve points at her, straight as a periscope: it inhales, settling the wind to ruffling within Salem. The sharp stink of ammonia, of old things left in the sun, is briefly overpowering. Then the pile of mismatched clothing accordions onto itself with just the one sleeve left out, more than ever resembling just a pile of dirty laundry. "Mäuschen," it rumbles. "I will abide by the code of your domicile."

Whereas previously it had been unearthly loud, this voice is quieter - perhaps no louder than the grumbling of an old air conditioner. The words scrape and tumble out of some interior realm, battered by the time they emerge into grumbling basso. There's a faint echo, too, coming out of the confines of that sleeve. It huffs a breath - air puffs out in a downdraft, warm and vaguely sticky, rolling out like fog. "You are the Ingénue. Your training is exquisite. Are you a ward of the mistress?"

There is little interest in food or drink for a Sin-Eater, but Roxy's sublime innocence has attracted his attention instead - in a veritable banquet such as this place, the only thing that does not whet his hunger is the greatest curiosity of all. The tastes of the souls here lingers in the vacuum, winding to him like smoke in the breeze, and this one girl alone he cannot taste. Her ego is self-contained; her contentment and satisfaction, achieved. She is actualized, without appetite, and these mortals are always of great interest to a creature that exists in the vast extremes of appetite.

"Mäuschen? Ich mag es," She giggled, "And thank you for respecting the rules. I do so dislike it when the gargoyles have to get involved," she said, sitting in the seat opposite the sentient pile of clothes. Her hair fluttered around her face as the creature's vacuum caught at her, but she did her best to ignore it as she spoke. "Et merci," she said, "I am one of Mistress Abigail's servants, yes. She was the one who trained me. She's taught me so much..." Roxy looked longingly at the stairwell, before turning her attention back to the strange creature she was sharing a booth with. "Are you here to see my Mistress? I'm afraid she's occupied at the moment, but I'd be happy to tell her about you as soon as I can. Are you..." Roxy paused searching for the least offensive path, "I'm afraid my Mistress has never spoken to me of a being that matches your description. Are you and she acquainted, or are you just hoping to be?" she asked curiously as her hair swirled around her. She finally gave up on her dark locks, and quickly tied it behind her head in a loose ponytail.

"Nein, this one requires not your lady's assistance," the oddity dismisses. "Our natures are inimical, and her mood is fey. It is best that a void is maintained."

Another one of those hot exhalations, though the air rustles and draws back in. The suit billows upwards as if on a clothesline and turns - the neck pulls wide and turns to stare down the length of the main gallery, at another table where a portly man sits attended by a pair of slaves, laughing. There is a gargoyle attending him, patient as stone in the background, as he drinks and tells stories to the women, though clearly neither of them understand the context or his increasingly thick accent.

"I am an eater of sin," it says, and the words carry the weight of portent and absolute doom. "Lho-Ffhram is how this one is known. I come here under accord to weigh the scales and savour the guilt. Your mistress is beyond petty regrets, but her clientele is not. The nights lengthen as their appetites grow. It is here that I know when they are ripe."

The lone sleeve raises to point at the laughing man, bulging. The fabric strains and pops as something presses against the base of the shoulder, too broad to fit within the tailored column. He is no more aware of Lho-Ffhram than a moth of a shadow. "He thickens. I await his decadence, and final regrets. Then I eat him, all his sin. His venal nature. In me his dissolution will be wrought."

For all his beastly demeanor, there is no growling hunger in Lho's voice. He speaks of it as the tide or a sunset - inevitable and natural. Rain in the forest.