forum Toxic As Hell (Closed)

Started January 13, 2023 by @emilyevewrites group

tune

Quain hesitated warily. She took a deep breath, whimpering a bit, then shakily pointed toward the main street.

“Sh… Shadowfolk are widespread, b… but there’s a club near the gate. It… It’s run by Shadowfolk, and m… many go there. The… the Dancing Shade,”Quain replied.

She backed away, moving her back to one of the walls so that Saul could have plenty of room to pass her. She flinched when her back met the cold, filthy wall. Though, technically she only flinched because of the sudden cold against her bare skin, but it was another little touch to make her show more real.

"How do I get there?" Saul demanded, narrowing his eyes. "How many are likely to be there? Do they have a leader?" His tactical mind was trying to calculate his chances against them.

He was tempted to bring the girl with him just because he didn't want to go to the wrong place, but he figured it best for her not to see whatever hell he was going to bring down on these Shadowfolk.

“It… it’s on the main street! You… just get out of this alley, go straight through the alley across from here, and you’re there. It’s between two inns. I… I don’t know anything else,”she whimpered.

Quain shivered even more. His look seemed to frighten her more, though she was in fact quite enjoying the moment. She loved a good act.

She also knew that Saul would be getting into serious trouble. The Dancing Shade was a club owned by a major Shadowfolk merchant, Evaen Swallow-Tongues, who was also the leader of Naskeni’s local assassin gang. The only thing that would save Saul from being tortured and killed was this same Evaen was quite fond of belly dancers.

Saul shook his head and gritted his teeth. He needed to avenge his fairy, that was for certain. But to go into a foreign land, a foreign club, and face down an opponent that he had absolutely no knowledge of… his logical mind cut through his anger and reminded him what a horrible idea that would be. At the very least, he should go to the club and scope it out first before charging in with his blade up and anger raging.

He visibly calmed down, relaxing his grip on his sword and letting his shoulders drop. "Would you be willing to show me?" he asked slowly. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to keep Quain with him, but she already knew more than he wanted her to. And he couldn't afford to get lost.

Quain took a deep breath when she saw that he was calming down, but she was still visibly shaking. At his question, she nodded nervously, then took another deep breath.

“I… I will. Just… give me a moment, please,”she said.

Quain then covered her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. It left her body in full view of him, and she channeled a bit of desire into his mind. Not too much, but just enough to make him want to look at her, to stare at her while she was ‘unaware’.

A few minutes later, Quain managed to compose herself somewhat, and she nervously led the way out of the alley. When she reached the entrance, she glanced behind herself to check that Saul was following. She seemed slightly paranoid about having him behind her, but in reality she was enjoying it. She even added a subtle sway to her hips as she walked, to keep his attention on her.

Saul nodded and took the time to slide his sword back into its sheath strapped across his back while Quain composed herself. But once the blade was secure, Saul's eyes were immediately drawn to her figure again, despite how much he tried to keep himself from it.

She was very beautiful, and with her outfit, not much of her was covered. The rest didn't leave much to the imagination. He stared at her, his gaze studying her curves, for longer than he should've. What it would be like to caress that skin… to feel her body against his…

Immediately, he jerked himself out of that line of thought. The scent of blood and death was still heavy in the air, and Farah's body was still growing cold behind him. He couldn't be thinking like that, gods no.

Once Quain began to lead him out of the alley, Saul followed her diligently. He noted how she kept glancing back at him and chalked it up to nerves. He had nearly sliced her through with his blade when she startled him. The rage he felt over his dead fairy was still strong. But yet again, his eyes sunk lower to her hips. The sway in them was rhythmic and enticing. He wanted to reach out and take them in his hands, pull her back into him and–

Godsdamn! he cursed in his mind, shaking his head again and running his fingers through his hair. He was barely mourning Farah and instead letting lustful thoughts invade his mind. This wasn't right. It wasn't.

Quain listened to his thoughts closely, deciding to gradually retract her magic when he started to question his lustful thoughts. Better for him to be confused about his desires than suspicious. Though, she kept her hip sway, acting like it was just her normal walk, and it honestly wasn’t far off from it anyway.

She led him across the street and into another alley. Then, when they were at the entrance to the main street, Quain hesitated, taking deep breaths to ‘calm her nerves’. Though, she was actually just getting her bearings.

“It… it’s not far from here,”she commented shakily, as if to placate him in case he got angry at her.

When she finally seemed to calm herself, Quain ventured out into the street, turning toward where the Dancing Shade would be. A few minutes later, Quain stopped in front of the one-story building. It seemed tiny compared to the taller two-story inns flanking it, but Quain knew well that the place went underground a few levels deeper than most of the buildings on Main Street.

“This is it. W… what happens now?”she asked quietly, her voice quivering.

Saul refused to look at her body anymore. Instead, his eyes swept the streets around them, looking for his invisible enemy. Not that he would be able to recognize Farah's attackers. They likely wouldn't be walking around with her blood on their hands. The thought again made Saul clench his fists in pure rage.

He cut his gaze back to Quain as she commented briefly and stammered through her words yet again. A quiet sigh escaped him, and he relaxed his demeanor to hopefully put the woman at ease. "I'm not going to hurt you," he assured her. "I swear it."

As they approached the building, Saul looked skeptical. It looked much too small to be the club Quain spoke of. What if she was luring him into a trap? No, that was absurd. This woman was petrified and unable to speak without her voice trembling. "Would you accompany me inside?" he asked, glancing between her and the building. "Unless you need to get back to your… tent."

Quain looked at Saul warily as he spoke, but she nodded. She then took a few deep breaths, his calmer demeanor seeming to soothe her a bit.

As they stood in front of the Dancing Shade, Quain noticed his skeptical look. She bit her lip nervously, but it also, without her even trying, seemed alluring.

“It… it’s a lot bigger than… than it looks, s… so I’ve been told,”she mentioned timidly.

She hesitated for a moment, glancing in the direction of her shop, then she turned back to him.

“It’s… not a tent. It’s my shop. The only place you’ll find tents would be in the Desert Region, which is almost on the other side of the world. Just… just so you know. But, I… I can go in with you, if that’s w… what you want. It might be better anyway, since I… I’m a dancer,”Quain said, never really meeting his eyes.

Saul's gaze remained focused on the club, thinking over in his head different tactics and approaches. It all went out the window as he glanced back over at Quain and noticed the way she was biting her lip. If only he could kiss her and touch her curves just once, then the temptations might leave his mind. It definitely wasn't his best idea.

"I should hope so," he muttered. "It doesn't look like very much."

Then he met her eyes at her suggestion. "Yes, if you don't mind. But before we do…"

The Specialist glanced around and took Quain's hand to pull her back into the secluded alleyway. With hopefully no one watching, he lowered his lips to hers while taking her hips in his hands and running his touch over her bare skin. It only lasted a second before he wrenched himself away.

He shook his head quickly, releasing her from his touch, and stepped back. "I'm sorry," he apologized immediately. "I shouldn't have done that. I… I'm sorry." He was humiliated. Farah was dead, and now he was acting on every stupid impulse? He'd just kissed a stranger and touched her in a very provocative way without considering the consequences.

Quain noticed his gaze, that hungry look in his eye. She acted utterly oblivious to the look, but, inwardly, she was eagerly anticipating what he might do later. She then nodded in wary agreement to his words.

“Many buildings in Naskeni, this city, extend underground. I think that… that this one is one of those,”she mentioned.

She started to speak, about to fully commit to going inside with him, then he snatched her hand and pulled her into the alley. Oh, by Falbahaddon’s white eyes! She hadn’t necessarily thought he’d act on his desires so soon!

She froze when he kissed her, her surprise not an act this time. She then couldn’t help a quiet moan escaping her when he touched her hips. When was the last time she’d been with a man? A while, most likely.

Then, he was gone. Damn it! Why’d he stop?

He then started apologizing. Well… she could work with that, even if it was a bit disappointing.

Quain stared blankly at him for a long moment, then turned away, shyness in her expression.

“I… I um… I think we should head inside now,”she said quietly, biting her lip in that same nervous but alluring way.

She didn’t move for a moment, then she slowly made her way out of the alley. Before she rounded the corner, she looked back to make sure Saul was following, her demeanor less frightened and more shy now.

(Just me realizing that Saul and Quain kiss before Farah and Ōn'nyosh)
(Edit: I forgot about the dice game. Nevermind 😂)

Saul was regretting his decision to indulge in his lust. He'd thought that having a quick sample would satisfy him. It hadn't. He wanted more – more of all of it. The taste of her lips… the sound of her moan… the feel of her skin…

But his eyes caught the shyness of her expression after waiting out her stare. Maybe it hadn't been a mistake to kiss her. She seemed to be a sweet girl who only wanted to help. And if Farah was dead-

No. That thought didn't lead anywhere good. Saul focused again as Quain spoke. His gaze trailed to her lips again, and he forced himself to meet his eyes. "Right," he agreed.

"Sorry again," he added after a moment of silence between them. He hurried to follow her once she moved, and caught her little glance back. He offered a hopefully reassuring smile in return.

(Lol! Well… that’s if you count the dice game as an actual kiss, snickers)

---

And now, the lust. This is going quite well, so far. But, I must remember subtlety. I want this seedling to grow a bit before it withers into the perfect sacrifice.

Quain kept her shy expression going, even though she was inwardly celebrating. At his apology, she only nodded, seemingly a bit lost. Then, when he smiled, she flashed a, very breif, timid smile back.

Quain continued toward the door of the Dancing Shade, stepping inside. The place was eerily dim, with most of the windows blocked by dark panels. Lanterns spotted the club, all glowing a strange grey. Everything from the walls to the chairs were painted in grey scale.

Most of the people in the club were human-like with grey skin, solid yellow eyes, and stretched features, the Shadowfolk. Many of them turned at Quain’s entrance, but, seeing her outfit, either went back to their business or eyed her with interest.

One of the more notable set of eyes on her was from a Shadowfolk man toward the back of the club. He was dressed in fancy dark blue and purple clothes with dark brown highlights. The lower half of his shoulder-length, white hair seemed to have been dipped in purple dye. He was lounging comfortably in his chair, two burly Shadowfolk flanking him like guards, and he held an elaborate wineglass, sipping from it occasionally as he watched Quain with an odd intensity.

Quain looked around timidly, acting like it was the first time she’d ever been inside the club. Though, it most certainly wasn’t the first time. Which was why Evaen, the fancy Shadowfolk, was watching her. She’d ‘entertained’ him a few times in the past, and he was quite fond of her, but he was also very suspicious of her religious beliefs. That little detail would be taken care of soon though, by an unwitting, greiving man. Maybe it would be a permanent solution, or maybe not, but Evaen would know better than to question her when she and Saul were done.

Saul followed Quain through the door and slowed his steps at the immediate change in atmosphere from the streets outside to the club's grayscaled interior. His eyes darted around, taking in all the little details that he possibly could. It was like a new ethereal world he'd entered with only one familiarity.

The girl in front of him led him through the crowd of people. Saul noticed the way some people stared at her, and he felt an odd feeling flaring in his chest. However, as his own grey eyes freely scanned Quain's body again, he also was reminded of the hot, lustful desire burning in him after tasting and touching her just outside in the alleyway.

Not noticing the fact that the person who seemed to be the most important in the room was watching them – or at least Quain – Saul took her hand and brought his face close to hers so he could whisper in her ear. "I'm sorry to ask this," he began hesitantly. "But if you're willing… could I kiss you again?"

As Quain walked, she kept her senses tuned to Saul. She could feel his caution, then his discomfort. He didn’t like that she was being stared at. Good. Very good.

A few moments later, she sensed his lust, and was already expecting his approach when he took her hand and whispered in her ear. Quain couldn’t resist a shiver of anticipation coursing through her, but she made sure to keep her face innocent, like the confused and conflicted pretty girl that Saul thought her to be.

Then, after a seeming moment to make up her mind, Quain turned to look at him directly. She then gently freed her hand and raised both to cradle his face. Her eyes gazed into his, soft but somehow intense, with a hypnotic pull that would easily suck the poor man into the depths of Quain’s magic.

“Yes, when we’re safe. But, right now, I need you to protect me. All of these people… they hurt your dear friend… and they’re going to be coming for me next. I can’t explain it, but I… just feel it. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want you to feel any more pain,”she whispered, gazing deeply into his eyes as she spoke, her voice wavering as if she was truly afraid for her life.

Evaen straightened as he watched the pair, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He then waved at his two guards and they approached the pair. The bulky men walked with confidence, their hands not even near their weapons as they approached.

“Protect me,”Quain whispered, her voice echoing in his mind as she let go of him.

As her fingers slid off of Saul, she was confident that he would see everyone in the club as a threat, even if only a few actually were. Quain wanted a massacre, and everything was falling into place for that very thing to happen.

Saul waited with bated breath for her answer. When she turned to look him in the eye, he stilled immediately and was entranced by her beautiful, innocent features. She didn't deserve him… not with how fucked up he was inside. But when her soft hands cupped his face, Saul immediately forgot everything but Quain. He clung to her touch and her words like she was an oasis in the dryest desert.

Her agreement to his plea caused a wave of relief to surge through him. Then her next few words struck his heart. Farah. He'd completely forgotten about Farah. The entire reason why they were here was so that Saul could avenge the death of his fairy. He wouldn't let anything else happen to anyone he cared about. Not at the hands of these… these Shadowfolk.

Saul's eyes immediately caught the wave signaling two guards to approach them. His eyes tracked them, and when Quain whispered so temptingly in his ear, it wasn't her that he heard. It was Farah.

"Protect me," his fairy whispered, releasing his face from her grip. He could almost see her fingers, one of them inked with the tattoo he knew so well. Saul's own tattoo burned into the skin on his back as Farah's plea echoed in his mind. "Protect me. Protect me, Saul."

Saul barely noticed that the guards didn't have their weapons drawn. He drew his own blade anyway and narrowed his eyes as they approached. "Don't come any closer," he demanded, the words a snarl from his lips.

Quain felt and heard his every thought, and was so pleased by it all. He was captivated. He was caught. He was hers. From his relief at her acceptance to his steadily growing hatred for the Shadowfolk. And, a little bonus, was how he heard Farah instead of her. Yes, things were progressing nicely. Falbahaddon would be pleased.

Quain shrank behind Saul as the guards approached. Then, when Saul drew his blade and snapped at them, they froze. They looked to Evaen for orders.

Evaen stood up at that, his expression stern. The entire club went eerily quiet as he did, as Evaen almost never rose from his seat unless he had a woman in his arms.

“Weapons are to remain sheathed in my club at all times. If you don’t put that sword away, I will drag you out myself,”Evaen hissed at Saul.

He then turned to Quain.

“Been a long time since your last visit. Why are you here, Quain?”he asked, almost spitting the word ‘visit’.

“Helping a friend,”she said softly, meekly, despite remaining composed. Though, she subtly leaned toward Saul, as if she was hiding how uncomfortable she was.

Evaen looked at Saul again.

“Really? By bringing him here to start a fight?”

“If you force him to fight, that’s your fault, not mine,”Quain replied.

“Bullshit.”

Many of the Shadowfolk around the club started to approach, hands on weapons. Guards then moved to block all of the doors. They were trapped.

Quain looked around, noticing the movements. She then looked at Saul, her eyes pleading with him.

Evaen’s eyes narrowed.

“You damned witch! Is that how you do it? Guards, restrain them and blindfold her!”

The two guards started forward again, brandishing their weapons. The crowd closed in as well. Quain looked around, a soft whimper coming forth from her, loud enough only for Saul to hear.

Saul waited, his grip so tight on the hilt of his blade that the blood pulled away from his knuckles and turned them white. One of these people had murdered Farah. Perhaps the two approaching him. The rage behind the thought consumed him, and he shifted his gaze to look at the supposed leader of all this madness.

No. Saul had been wrong. Surely it was this man who murdered Farah. The leader of them all. No matter what, Saul vowed to have his head.

The Specialist's teeth gritted at Evaen's words. "I'd like to see you try," he growled in reply. But his attention was quickly pulled to Quain as she spoke. He didn't even notice the malice in the other man's words. He was only entranced by Quain and her beauty. Her shyness. It made her all the more alluring to him. When she leaned toward him, Saul immediately stepped closer to her. With the closeness came an overwhelming desire that Saul could barely stop. Almost like… the feeling wasn't his. It was odd but gone quickly.

Saul met Quain's eyes as the others in the club began to approach the pair with their weapons at the ready. But all that mattered to Saul was the pleading, desperate eyes in front of him. Was that how Farah had looked in her last moments? Pleading for a reprieve from the unreasonable attack against her?

"Protect me, Saul," his fairy whispered to him.

At the barked order, Saul whipped around. And the soft whimper from behind him spurred him on. With a cry, he lashed his sword out to keep those around them at bay before lunging to unarm one of the guards of his weapon.

Evaen was smart enough to catch the white-knuckled grip Saul had on his swords. He was also smart enough to see the look in the man’s eyes and know that he had become a target of a vengeful, maddened warrior. A fair fight wasn’t an option.

Evaen snorted at Saul’s words, then watched the man stare at Quain. He kept a close eye on the pair, recognizing that Quain’s claws were already sinking too deep into the man. Soon, he’d likely be a lost cause.

Fortunately, as the situation degraded, his patrons rallied around him. Evaen was the leader of an assassin guild. And, this club was his headquarters. Quain knew that, and had never liked it, though she’d never actually voiced her opinion. But, he knew of her distaste of his guild, and of him personally. He didn’t exactly know why, but regardless, Evaen suspected that this was her way of removing them from her equation. Fucking cultists.

Evaen watched Saul as he lashed out, watched the crowd flinch away from him. He then watched as he lunged. His bodyguards were good, but they weren’t assassins, nor expecting a seasoned warrior’s attack. The one guard was quickly disarmed, while the other rushed to flank Saul. A good strategy, but Evaen needed a better tactic.

Shouting in his native tongue, he ordered the crowd to rush Quain, to distract Saul. If they could split them apart, maybe annihilation would be averted.

Unfortunately, Evaen didn’t know that Quain understood every word. She quickly prayed in her mind, casting a spell that would let Saul understand Evaen’s words as well, and adding a twist to it. It would seem to Saul that Evaen was just shouting in the Common language, when he actually wasn’t.

The crowd charged forward, moving to split the couple apart. Quain telepathically reached forward and caused a couple of the front folks to trip on their own feet and fall. Those behind them stumbled and slowed, trampling their fallen companions.

Saul's blade moved with stunning speed and strength as he fought. He tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword before driving it into the stomach of the guard he'd disarmed. Without hesitating, he yanked it back and drew it up again to disarm the other guard who was flanking him from the side.

He then heard the shouting of the leader over the chaotic noise of the crowd around them. Suddenly, his words became understandable, and Saul heard the order to separate him from Quain. He immediately reacted, backing up and moving to her side, stepping over those who had fallen to do so.

The Specialist even wrapped an arm around Quain's waist to hold her against him. They would not be separated. Saul wouldn't let that happen again. He'd already let it happen with Farah, and now she was dead. Keeping Quain close, catching a bit of her sweet scent, he continued to lash his sword out and keep the dangers away.

(Forgive me if it’s a bit vague. I’m not too good with crowd battles, lol)

---

The guard Saul stabbed doubled over in pain, then crumpled to the floor. It proved how useless he was. Evaen would never listen to someone else’s advice again, no matter how powerful they were.

Then, the other guard managed to dodge Saul’s strike and he lunged in retaliation, sword aimed for his opponent’s shoulder. If he survived that attack, Evaen might keep him… might.

Though, as Saul reacted to his orders, moving closer to Quain, even grabbing her, Evaen knew he’d underestimated the witch. She either understood him, or had magic that allowed her to, and she was sharing it. No use in language barriers then. Fuck.

The crowd continued to swarm around the pair, but they slowed, caught off guard by Saul’s actions. Though, some of the men were more than happy to try to snatch Quain away. She flinched, moving to avoid them, but they were all around, and many were slashing at both of them without care.

Unknown to most of the people in the club, fog was starting to spread across the floor, covering people’s feet and slowing everyone but Quain and Saul. Evaen was among those that saw it and he moved back to stand on his chair, wary of the fog. If he had been suspicious of Quain before, he was certain now. Falbahaddon favored her.

Saul had been training with a sword in his hand for nearly his entire life. He was too quick and much too talented with a blade to let a simple parry and jab overtake him. Saul dipped out of the way of the other guard's blade and made his own counterstrike by swinging his sword around and landing a hit into the guard's side, right above his hip.

As the men of the crowd reached out for Quain, Saul fluidly moved her behind him and mercilessly slashed at their outreached arms, aiming to remove their hands at the wrists. It was what they deserved for trying to put their touches on a beautiful, shy woman who happened to wear more revealing clothes than the average person. Though for a moment, Saul realized that he'd tried to do the same thing. But it was different for him. There was a connection between them.

Saul continued to wave his sharpened blade back and forth to ward off the crowd of people. Though his mind was still trying to come up with a way to get to the leader. His mind was set on one thing and one thing only: avenge his Farah.

The guard quickly realized his mistake when Saul dodged his strike. He then yelped in pain at Saul’s attack, retaliating by swiping at Saul’s right hip, feinting, and slashing at his left shoulder.

Two of the men that caught Saul’s attack lost a hand, and all but one of the others lost fingers. Then, with very few aware of it, the fog spreading on the floor started to swirl around the wounded men’s feet. As if on cue, the people closest to the wounded men launched at them, beating them to death then attacking each other. No one, except Evaen and a couple women in the back of the crowd, realized that something was off.

Quain couldn’t help a sadistic laugh as she watched the men getting pummeled to death. She could also feel the fog against her feet as well, thick and cold, and so inviting. She gave a quick kiss to Saul’s ear, lingering afterward.

“Thank you,”she whispered, both grateful and seductive.

Evaen stayed perched on his chair, watching warily as he loaded a poisoned dart into a hand crossbow. He then waited patiently, expecting the crowd to thin pretty soon.

Saul wasn’t phased at all by the guard’s cry of pain. He’d been a soldier for years now. In the midst of fighting, he rarely lost focus. He blocked the guard’s move toward his shoulder yet again and landed a fatal one of his own as he punctured the man’s abdomen.

As he slashed through the hands reaching for Quain, Saul didn’t notice the wounds he inflicted. He only saw Farah’s corpse in his mind, and knowing that one of the people here must have committed her murder, he didn’t care what it took. The warrior was prepared to slaughter the entire club.

But his eyes widened at the fog. He hadn’t noticed it until now, and he backed up to protect Quain from it. He didn’t notice her laugh, but he immediately worried for her as the fog circled her ankles, then his own.

Then her kiss. The softness of her lips and the way she lingered, just brushing his earlobe and exhaling on his skin. It took the entirety of Saul’s self control not to close his eyes and pull her against him. Her whisper was so sweet, and at the same time, promising.

Finally, Saul turned to her, his emotions clouding his eyes very obviously. “Are you alright?” he managed to ask.

The man gasped as Saul cut into him. He dropped his sword, crumpling to his knees and trying to cradle his wound. The fog seemed to curl around him, reaching upward and seeping into his wounds. Blood poured faster, darker, and the man’s body became septic within seconds of being touched by the fog. He collapsed onto his side, dead moments later, his body already starting to rot.

Quain, who was still listening in to Saul’s thoughts, was quite pleased by his determination to murder everyone in the tavern if he had to. That was Quain’s plan, after all. Evaen’s assassin guild was getting in her way, and Saul was proving to be the perfect weapon against them. Even if half the tavern folk weren’t in the guild, it still took out the leader and headquarters of it in one shot.

Though, as she moved to kiss his ear, she sensed his fear about the fear about the fog. Quain didn’t move away from the fog, instead brushing a comforting hand along Saul’s shoulder just before she kissed his ear.

His reaction was so, so pleasing. It brought up so many temptations, and the fog swirling around her feet only encouraged her more. She had his blessing. Her beloved Dreaded One was enjoying her show of tormenting Saul and turning him into a weapon. And, that sanction alone could have brought her to her knees in ecstasy if she wasn’t still focused on the battle raging around her.

Saul’s movements brought her out of her thoughts, and his words made her smile.

“I am. Thanks to you,”she purred softly.

Her hand gently slid down his arm. Her touch was featherlight, grateful and innocent, with a hint of desire. Not enough to be overwhelmingly obvious, but enough that Saul would notice.

---

Meanwhile, the crowd was steadily thinning. The fog seemed to have brought out the worst in everyone, and many folks were fighting like rabid animals instead of warriors.

Evaen, along with two women and a man, were the only ones unaffected. The other three moved along the edges of the crowd, fighting off their feral kinsmen on their way to join Evaen.

Before getting to Evaen, one of the women was dragged down and beaten half to death before the second woman could react. She quickly killed the first woman’s attackers, but unfortunately couldn’t help her friend, so she made a swift retreat toward Evaen. And, there she stood, assessing the scene with the same calculating gaze as the two men beside her.

The crowd then parted for just a minute, and Evaen lifted his loaded crossbow, aimed, and fired at the distracted Saul.