forum listen pal // oxo // closed

Started May 21, 2023 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

disclaimer: i have no idea if i'll be able to properly keep up with this but i am sure as hell going to try

ANYWAYS, i need to flesh out my homebrew dnd verse and my favorite npc so i need this

---

The continent of Lunakoi has always been a peaceful one. With a pantheon of twenty gods ensuring the mortals live accordingly and eight kingdoms to properly divide up the varied landscape, there has hardly ever been a reason for real war. But men are greedy, and men like to rule the world.

Twenty years ago there was a great war. Much of it is far too gruesome to get into too much detail, but it's safe to say that the good men won over the evil. A human by the name of King Hannes Roullin usurped the evil emperor and took his spot to turn Khesia into a beautiful, prosperous country. King Hannes settled down with an elven wife and had two children–Thomryn and Sybilline.

After the great war, the eight kingdoms fell back into an easy sort of peace. However, such tensions are not so easily disputed. Lost lives need to be avenged, broken ground must be plowed, stolen artifacts must be returned.

Well, regardless of whatever meaningless politics are happening between the kingdom–my character by the name of Jager (yes, pronounced like the alcohol and that one guy from aot) could not care less. There's only one goal on her mind. She needs to get to the Unyielding Isles, but to do that, she must get through the Carrion Woods. She knows she can't get through the Carrion Woods alone, especially with the menacing assassin-spellcasters and a sickness known only as the Vermora Plague sweeping through the villages. And so, she finds and hires your character for a very impressive sum of money.

---

So here are the nine kingdoms and a bit about them: [embedded is a map w/ the kingdoms labelled]

1. Behriti – a small, benevolent island kingdom, mostly stays out of the mainland affairs.
2. Notica – kingdom that's home to the docks that lead to the Unyielding Isles. this is a very luxurious place where everyone wants to put their summer home.
3. Travanen – the trade-central hub of the continent, located in the middle of everything. fairly neutral in all endeavors. home to many, many small villages
4. Yonpidor – the northernmost and most isolated of all the kingdoms. they've been in a lockdown, issued by their queen, for the past four-hundred years because of a nasty dragon by the name of Thraax that decided to make his home on the tallest mountain of the Sodya Peaks, Helheim's Spear.
5. Corstree – a dark, dank kingdom located in the heart of the Carrion Woods. ruled by the harsh King Ambur who builds his army of spellcasting assassins to extend his power.
6. Ralcord – a smelly, swampy kingdom ruled by the dragonborne king, Lord Yale. mostly doesn't have a lot to do with anyone, most people just stay out of it because nobody wants to go to the swamp
7. Khesia – THE kingdom to be in. ruled benevolently and just, most of the citizens devout to a god or two. prosperous, good weather, cool flag, great army, what more could you ask for?
8. Havorford – this kingdom has no idea what's happening ever. they just play badminton and frolic and ignore any sort of problem.
9. Vulcan – secret secret secret secret secret :)

---

So YEAH. i want a funny little duo to fight their way through a deadly forest and maybe hold hands and have to share a blanket and carefully clean and stitch each others' wounds,,, in a totally super duper platonic way for sure (they need to kiss immediately.)

My rules are simple:

• I can ask for a sample and I have the right to say no
• Swearing is allowed, but bigotry is never EVER allowed
• please be semi active? once every 2-3 days is fantastic
• GIVE ME SOMETHING TO WORK WITH!!! 2 paragraphs is my ideal length, but I understand that it varies depending on what the situation in the RP is like
• grammar,, good god be decent at grammar.

Be warned that this rp will consist of things like sickness, death, violence, lots of bad politics, a few gruesome injuries, and a fair share of monsters. any sort of smexy stuff with be fade-to-black.

God, that was a lot to read through. I will post a template if someone is interested. (i didn't proofread this post at all forgive me if i have a few errors ;-;)

You had me at "they need to kiss immediately"–although, really, my interest was piqued far before that.

Do you mind if I tag along in this journey? And if you'd like a writing sample, are you alright with a link to another roleplay, or would you prefer something new?

hiya! sorry this took me so long to get to (i was at my final dnd session of the year,,, sobbing crying,,, i'll miss it but it was super fun and came to a solid conclusion) I'd be happy to have you here! I scanned through your current rps and figured that you'd be a good fit!

anyways here's the template. think of the universe as a basic dnd-ish universe with high fantasy and magic and yeah

---

Name:
Aliases/Nicknames:
Gender/Pronouns:
Sexuality:
Age:

Race: (yknow the dnd type stuff)
Class: ( ^ )
Appearance:

Personality:
Brief Backstory:
Weapon of Choice:
Magic?:
Other?:

---

just to be clear, your character will be a guide of sorts to take Jager through the Carrion Woods in one piece. She as paid them heftily for their efforts. I'll get her character sheet up soon!

Name: :)
Aliases/Nicknames: Jager, That One, Hey You, Stop
Gender/Pronouns: Female, she/her
Sexuality: masc-lean bisexual babeyyyyy
Age: Somewhere in her early 20s

Race: Half-elf
Class: Ranger
Appearance: Jager has mid-back length, curly dark brown hair that she keeps in a messy half-up half-down style. She's of mixed race, her mother a dark-skinned elf and her father a pale-skinned human. Her skin is a light brown and there's a gnarly scar stretching down most of the right side of her face. She has full lips, a wide and flat nose, and upturned eyes. Her irises are a pale silver with her pupils almost being pinpricks. She stands at slightly below average with a very athletic build. She has calloused hands, pointed ears, and a lazy posture. She usually wears dark greens and browns to help her blend in with environments, but she does enjoy a bright yellow accessory every now and then.

Personality: Jager is a very sarcastic, yet upbeat individual. Despite heavy circumstances, she's always kept her sense of humor. Jager has loose lips, but they're never ones that sink her ships. When it comes to her own secrets, she's a vault and nothing will be able to get those out of her. She can be provocative with her words, often asking for a fight and forgets that she's not invincible. When she's backed into a corner, it's clear to see exactly how inexperienced she really is. She's truly all bark and no bite, but she can definitely learn. She's new to this, to all of it, but she learns quickly and on her feet. Once she makes a mistake, she never makes it again. Jager's main motivator is to preserve herself and ensure that she'll have the best life.
Brief Backstory: Jager clearly grew up a little high-class, granted the amount of money she used to buy herself a guide, but nobody really knows the extent of her past. It's a secret, and she fully intends on keeping it that way. She just needs to escape to the kingdom of Notica, where the docks await to take her into the Unyielding Isles, a place where there's no return from.
Weapon of Choice: Bow and arrow, but she's learning to be skilled with a dagger.
Magic?: Just a little bit of low-level stuff like a simple heal or tracking spell.
Other?: Lots about her will be revealed later in the rp :) I like keeping her cards a little close to my chest heeheh

Ooh, I'll get my character up sometime today, thanks for letting me join!!! Quick question, though–should I be more familiar with dnd races, classes, spells and such? I have a basic understanding, but I've only ever played one campaign years ago, and it was an odd, futuristic sci-fi one with human mutations.

I'm just wondering how much freedom I have creating my character, really. Can they be a mixed race/custom lineage type character? And does their magic have to stick to official dnd spells? I'm not looking to do anything overpowered; just checking the limits, if there are any!

There's no real limit to what to do! I just ask for the races/class to give me a better idea of what your character's skillset is! (the classes are artificer, barbarian, bard, cleric, druid, fighter, monk, paladin, ranger, rogue, sorcerer, warlock, wizard) You could multiclass and choose 2-3 different classes if you'd like. And as for race, you could do whatever! If it's something super unique, it would probably best to have a little description with it so I know for sure what they can do. If it's a more "classic" race (human, elf, genasi, dragonborn, dwarf, tiefling, aasimar, etc) then you don't need a description or anything. I'm not keeping track if a spell is "real" or not, I just want to know the vague overview of what type of magic they can do, if they can do any to begin with. (non-magic characters are as great as magical ones!!)

Sounds good! Thank you for the clarification!! ♥️

Name: Nelriel Maeval
Aliases/Nicknames: Nel, Bastard, Blight, Did You Just Hear That
Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him
Sexuality: Pansexual
Age: 23
Race: Mixed race. Part wood elf, part drow. Probably some human ancestry in there somewhere, but he's not entirely certain.
Class: Druid, rogue
Appearance: About 5'10, very thin and wiry. Has that ethereal kind of beauty one would expect to see from someone with elf blood in them. His skin is the color of freshly ground coffee beans and has a distinctly warm tone to it. His eyes are sharp and narrow, framed by long lashes and high cheekbones. His irises are a murky blend of green and russet brown that seems to change in lighting and in time to his more extreme moods. Nel's hair is bone white and rather short for one with elven ancestry, only falling to the tops of his shoulders. He keeps it tied back in a bun, with a few long pieces left loose to frame his face.
Personality: A prideful know-it-all who projects nothing but confidence and determination a good ninety percent of the time. He has a great sense of humor, often speaks in a flirty tone, and is spectacular at deflecting personal questions. Because, the truth is, his self-assuredness and humor is his most trusted defense mechanism designed to keep people at arm's length. Beneath his somewhat arrogant and foolhardy exterior is a wide expanse of pain and resentment. He's not one to forgive doubts about his honor, and yet quick to doubt the honor of others. He won't tolerate any perceived bullshit.
Brief Backstory: As he tells it, Nel is the son of a wood-elven father, a servant to the king in the palace in Corstree, and a drowen mother who served as a spellcaster in the king's army. When he was young—very, very young, by elven terms—about thirteen, both of his parents were killed in a siege on the castle. Nelriel was stolen away by a group of attackers and transported to the kingdom of Travanen, where he made his daring escape. He spent several years there learning how to pickpocket and steal in order to survive, and with all the traveling merchants, it was the perfect grounds to do so. When Nel was a bit older, about eighteen, he decided to make the journey back to Corstree on his own and seek out his own way of life in the unwelcoming Carrion Woods. Despite all the danger, the familiarity of his homeland gives Nel a sense of safety. And besides, few dare to venture in far enough to discover his home. Nel learned how to live off of the land, and when he needed a little extra help, he pursued the path of a mercenary.
Weapon of Choice: He's proficient with a bow and arrow, but his preferred weapon for combat with the many beasts and other dangers of the woods is an urumi (in this context, a flexible sword with vertebrae that can extend to be used like a whip).
Magic?: Very basic healing, and mostly concentrated on nature. Through spells he can speak with animals, view the world through the senses of animals, and even occasionally summon animals—although, that last one is a little unreliable. Especially since he can't command animals—although he'd like to be able to. Those aren't the limits of his magic, but it's the most he's willing to explore.
Other?: Has a very deep and smooth voice. I'm talking like Junichi Suwabe (Japanese va for Aizawa from MHA and Sukuna from JJK) levels of deep and smooth.

His vision is also weak in the sunlight!

–

Let me know if there's anything I need to change!

awesome!!! aagh I love him as;dfja this is gonna be great

I'll have a starter up as soon as I finish my final!

(my final took ten minutes lol,, 92% babeyyyy)

If you asked Jager where she was going, the answer would be frustratingly simple. "Notica," she says over her mug of mead. When asked a second question of how she would get there, Jager would roll her eyes but answer: "Through the Carrion Woods." Nobody really bothers to ask her any more questions about that, not when she's offering a glare and potential bar fight. Regardless of whoever is asking her whatever, nobody dares to ask her a third question, which is all fine by Jager. Groups of three have never been her favorite.

Which is unfortunate because there are exactly three thugs about twice her size glaring at her from across the bar. The dwarven innkeeper peers over the countertop, his height raised by a stool and his hands busy with mug polishing. "Y'need me to get rid of 'em for ya'?" He would mutter through his ginger braided beard. Jager shakes her head. She can handle herself, and if they would like a fight, she could certainly deliver.

"I'm waiting for someone," she grumbles, watching the reflection of the men in the warped reflection of her mug. The only thing she has to the guide is a name: Nelriel. He had agreed to meet her here in Vaxville, a small village on the very edge of the aforementioned woods. Most consider Vaxville the last friendly stop before probable certain death. Jager had been staying within the elderly walls for the past few weeks, searching for anyone that could serve as her guide through the upcoming domain. Corstree has never been exactly friendly towards passing tourists. Everything is a stark contrast to her home back south in Khesia. The three men behind her shift, Jager catching their every movement in her steel mug. "He should be here soon."

(Ooh, fantastic job on your final!! Such a good feeling when we get those out of the way lol)

"Soon indeed," a baritone voice rumbled in agreement, inches from Jager's ear. Warmth tickled her skin with every syllable as keen eyes focused on the baby hairs waving in time to his breath.

He had taken great care to avoid the reflection in the young women's cup, moving in the shadows of other patrons to silently advance. Even his presence was muted–more a precaution for those who might recognize the more troublesome part of his lineage in it than an attempt to sneak up on his potential client.

By the time Jager turned to look at him, Nelriel was already drawing back. He perched himself on the stool to the left of her, ignoring the halfling man who protested loudly at his spot being taken.

There was a lazy smile on Nelriel's face, his murky green eyes half-lidded as he studied the woman who wanted to enter the Carrion Woods. From his pointed ears, delicate golden jewelry gently swayed. Not all of the finery had begun the journey to the tavern with him, but if asked, Nel would simply say he'd done the incorrigibly wealthy a favor by lightening their load some.

"Rather interesting company you keep," he remarked, a nail tapping idly at the thick wooden countertop as his eyes flicked ever so casually to the three oversized thugs. Resting at the base of his fingers were three golden rings. More recently acquired finery.

(alskdjfa thank you! yeah i only have two more and then no more junior year for me hehe)

The sudden voice in her ear causes Jager to jump, a hand instinctively reaching for the dagger strapped to her side. The innkeeper scrambles back a step as Jager grabs a fistfull of bar nuts to chuck them at the man who somehow materialized beside her. "What the hell–" she hisses, taking a few breaths to calm down from her startle. Jager briefly glares at her cup as if it had betrayed her, and then to the man at her side. "Nelriel I assume?" Because who else could this possibly be? Sneaky, probably a thief, looks like somebody who's good at navigating sketchy and treacherous woods.

She briefly takes in all of his jewelry, nothing incredibly impressive. Stolen, likely, off of bar patrons just as these ones. There's a reason Jager doesn't wear gold, makes her far too noticeable than she wants. Flashy. Arrogant. However, she has to admit that they pair nicely with his hair and skin tone. She's always had an eye for art, the complimentary colors are pleasing. "I'm sure my company wants my head or something. They've been trailing me for the past few days, but they haven't made any move. Maybe they're waiting for something or another. It's possible I pissed them off earlier, but I wouldn't remember." Her half-smile is warped in the reflection of the mug.

(And then the life of a senior omg. It's been about three years since I graduated high school and I do not miss it lolol)

-

Nelriel had the gall to look amused as the shells rained down on him. He swatted away the worst of the projectiles with a hand, but paused mid motion at the sound of his name. "I am he. And your name is Jager, is it not?" he inquired, arm relaxing and allowing his raised hand to drop back onto the counter.

The motion caught the innkeeper's attention, likely because the dwarf was already regarding him with open suspicion, and Nelriel held his gaze with a meaningful smile. "A glass of elven cider, please," he requested, then turned his attention back to Jager.

He let out a hum at the information, a contemplating look in his eyes as they stared holes into the young woman beside him. "I see," he said eventually, followed by a long blink. "Well," he started, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable as he accepted the mug of cider from the innkeeper and pawned over a few coins in return, "It shouldn't be too hard to shake them. Assuming I accept your offer, of course. Why do you wish to venture into the Carrion Woods, anyway?"

(sorry I disappeared for A day I had two more finals and I was sleeping or watching the 1981 spiderman show when I wasn't suffering akhfhsjskk)

The woman straightens at the use of her name, tipping her head with a smirk. "I am," she confirms, sliding her hand across the counter to snatch a stray nut. The warped reflection shows the trio of men shift, stand and exit through the front door. The barkeep visibly relaxes when they leave, his stout posture morphing from brawl-prepared to business casual. They'll be back. If their pattern from the last week has been anything consistent, the men would return in the evening smelling of blood and conflict.

The barkeep slides Nelriel his cider, a pretentious drink if Jager's opinion means anything (it means everything). She likes to stick to cheap ale. Makes her feel more like a person and less like a floating aberration.

She should've expected the question to come, but it doesn't make her any less irritated. "Notica," she answers after a long swig. "Fastest way is through the Woods." The river route is too unpredictable and going all the way around Carrion means going through the swampy Ralcord. Jager doubts the king is too kind to enexpected Khesian visitors. "And that's all you need to know." To emphasize, she reaches into the pocket of her belt and drops a small bag of gold coins beside Nelriel's pretentious cider and a few scattered nuts. "That's only a fifth of the full sum. You'll get the rest in incriminates along the way."

(It's all good, my friend! I've been obsessively playing Tears of the Kingdom in practically all of my free time in between work, so I'm not unoccupied lolol.)

From the intent stare Jager directed at her cup followed by the relaxing of the innkeeper and the sound of the door shutting somewhere far behind him, Nelriel gathered that the trio had vanished for the time being. The thought made him wary–enemies out of sight are more dangerous than those who linger, afterall–and yet he had the growing suspicion that they wouldn't try anything with so many witnesses around. Something told him those goons wanted Jager by herself, if possible.

He took a slow sip of his cider, directing his eyes to the ceiling in order to avoid a full on eye roll at the difficult response. Nelriel opened his mouth, preparing to argue that he was the only one that could guide her without further risk to her well-being and therefore should offer him a better answer, but the well-placed thunk of a bag full of coins on the counter stopped him dead.

If he were older, wiser, perhaps then Nelriel would have been able to hide the ripple of shock across his face. Instead, it was plain for anyone to see as his eyes flicked between the gold and Jager.

"A fifth, you say," he echoed vacantly, stunned, before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. His hand reached out to quickly snag the drawstring on the bag, gaze travelling briefly over any watchers as he tugged it closer to himself, where it was partially obscured by the shadow of his mug of cider. He neatly undid the drawstring, just enough to peer inside and confirm the value, and then rapidly redid the binding before anyone else could see.

That much gold could buy a mountain of food and drink, and quite a few months of peace. Four more sums of it…

"And all I have to do in exchange is guide you through the woods to Notica, without asking any questions," he said, his tone dry and hard to read.

Rather than give Jager a clear answer, he relinquished his hold on the bag of coins, but kept it close to himself as he leaned forward.

He propped his cheek against his palm, fingers relaxed against his skin as he continued to study the young woman. "You're either fleeing from something or to something," he guessed, observing Jager for a reaction before continuing. "I will be your guide, but you will have to listen to me well," he warned. "The Carrion Woods is not a friendly place."

He shifted once again in his seat, extending both arms in her direction with his hands held palms up. His spine was held straight and proper, and his expression was the most docile it had been since he first spoke to her–a proper elven custom to say, 'I am in your service'. And just like that, the moment passed, leaving him with a sly grin that seemed to fit far more comfortably upon the planes of his face.

The bag of golden coins was no longer on the counter in front of him.

Jager takes his response with a smirk. A fifth. The fifth is hardly anything to what Jager's held in the past, but it's clearly everything to a thief who steals to know wealth. Jager supposes stealing for money is superior to inheriting it. At least you've earned it if you've ripped it from the wrist of the wealthy. The bag is a crushed velvet, more discreet than full velvet. Perhaps she should move to burlap to avoid any real notice, but it's delusional to say that Jager and her pouches haven't been noticed yet. There are eyes on her, like the three goddamn pairs that have been watching her for the past few weeks. She needs to move, quickly before any familiar symbols begin to show.

"You'd be correct," Jager whispers, choosing to briefly glance over her shoulder before turning back to Nelriel. She smiles, a nearly impish sort of thing. She could easily be half-tiefling with the look of mischief in her eyes. Better to put forth genuine mischief than attempt and fail to hide anything else on her mind. She's successful in many aspects, but hiding her emotions has never been one of them. Masking has always been simpler than hiding. "And I'm fully aware of the dangers that lurk within their shadow," she continues. "I'm impulsive but I'm not an idiot, Nelriel. Why do you think I hired you?"

She taps her chewed nails on the counter beside her half-drunken ale. She wonders what Nelriel could possibly purchase with his commission. A mansion, a pet, a fancy necklace made of liquid gold and fairy hair? Jager couldn't care less. Whatever happens after they part are their own respective business. She watches lazily as the man extends his hands and offers some binding oath or whatever. Is he fey? Gods, he better not be. Jager has dealt with far too many favors and deals than she would like to admit.

"We leave in the morning," she says as she picks a piece of nut from her teeth. "I estimate it'll be a two weeks journey from her to Notica and–uh–I won't be replacing any lost payments." She gestures to where the bag had been. "They're your responsibility as soon as they're out of my hands."

She nods and stands, stretching her arms and relishing in the satisfying pop of her back. "I don't know if there's a room open–Gatch!" Abruptly, she turns to the innkeep. He straightens. "Is there a room open?" He scrunches his nose and shakes his head, turning back to polish his mugs. "Damn. I assume you're on your own then. We meet back here at dawn and err–" She points out the door. "We might be fighting a hoard of brutish thugs."

It was a long moment before Nelriel dared to blink, as if the act might wake him from the dreamlike prospect in front of him. When Jager's mischievous smile didn't change, an excited glimmer flashed in his eyes. He took a last swig of his cider and flashed the barkeep an appreciative nod, then followed his client's lead by standing and brushing off the shells littering his clothing. "Perhaps you simply wanted my company," he countered with a sidelong glance and sly smile. "I have quite the reputation if you know where to look."

Nelriel was all too aware of the eyes on them, but he paid them no mind. His stomach was full with the warmth of his cider, he carried a bundle of gold in his cloak, and he had a promising job ahead of him. It was hard to show concern over distant threats—although his eyes did flick to Jager's with a curious look in his eyes at her warning.

His gaze left her just as quickly as he finally scanned over the other patrons in the room. Quite a few eyes locked with his, then quickly glanced away. "Why don't we save the fight for another time?" he suggested as if the choice was entirely theirs. He rested a hand between her shoulder blades, palm centered directly over her spine, and applied the gentlest of pressures to direct her into a group of departing customers. He stuck so close that their sides brushed, and in the next moment, Nelriel's free hand was tugging his hood up to cover his easily identifiable white locks.

After a moment, his intent became clear. The doors swung open a few feet in front of them as the group of patrons began to stream through, and he obviously meant for them to blend in. "Is this alright?" he asked, the words just loud enough for Jager to hear over the sounds of the bar. His eyes cut to hers once more, expectant.

(im so sorry if im off and on with this! i swear im excited for this rp, it just needs longer responses with more effort into them alksdjf)

"Oh, I'm sure," Jager responds with narrowed eyes and a scrunched nose. She leans on the toes of her boots, slowly entering Nelriel's personal space to stare him a little deeper in the eye. Hazel, the color. There are worse colors to have. The brighter the worse, in her utmost opinion. Sensitive, easily noted, distinguishable. If she could get a minor illusion spell, she wouldn't waste it on changing her own silver eyes to a mild shade of mud.

They're also easier to hide in the shadow of her hood. She yearns to be like the criminals watching her every move from the slums of the bar, eyes like tar following the pattern of her steps as she makes her way out the door with Nelriel's hand on her back. She can feel every pair bearing into the back of her cloak, but she couldn't place them for the life of her. They'd be looking at their ale or the ceiling or directly at her and she couldn't tell the difference. Why can't she have the subtle eyes of a hunter? Why does she have to have the silver eyes of a nobleman?

Gods, what she would pay to renounce her genes.

"Are you saying you wouldn't like to participate in a fine barroom brawl?" Jager responds with a smile. "Please, I'd like to see someone as lanky as you fight a few of these barbarians." She juts her chin towards a massive man sprawled out on the ground, his ninth beer spilled over his bare, hairy chest. Nelriel's quick hood flip inspires Jager's own, soon enough both of their heads concealed by their respective cloaks. Beneath the thick fabric juts her trusty bow, something she stole on the way out of her former home. Beside it lay a quiver of (also stolen) magic arrows. She's still not entirely sure what any of them do yet, but there's no better time to try than in a time of peril.

Jager meets Nelriel's eyes and she decides that she's vainly jealous of them. If the whole ordeal somehow falls through, Jager wonders if she could get anything on the black market for two perfect spoon-scooped eyes. "This is fine," she says softly, her eyes cutting away from Nelriel's before she can fully plan on how to remove them while he sleeps. "But I would like to know where you're taking me."

_{(I want to apologize for disappearing as I did without any updates!! Things got to be a lot and I needed a mental health break. I'm not exactly better, but I feel better for the time being and I would love to continue this if you're still willing!)}

The elf-blood humored Jager with a polite chuckle, shaking his head slightly. A lock of his hair slipped free at the movement, but he was prepared. As nimble fingers swiftly retucked the rebellious strands behind his ear, Nelriel averted his gaze. The line of his jaw deepened, the only outward sign that the comment had offended him. "I advise," he began slowly, tone as light as ever, "That you be less hasty in your judgment moving forward. Appearances are often deceiving, and I would hate to see my new client cut down by an enemy because she did not deem them to have a threatening physique."

The warning left a bitter taste in the air between them, creating a tension that hadn't previously existed. Then he gave a shallow smile, and added, "That is no threat, M'lady. Merely an observation." After all, he was no danger to her so long as she held to their contract.

Nelriel's guiding touch soon vanished from her back. "Your admirers seem to have withdrawn for the present moment," he observed, slowing his steps and allowing the crowd to pass. If he heard Jager's request, he didn't reply. Instead, the elf-blood turned to face her and said, "Follow this road to the fountain in the plaza. There will be a sign between two buildings advertising clothing. When you see it, turn to the left and continue for thirty-six paces exactly." Nel stopped to ensure she was paying attention before continuing.

"Behind the pile of firewood is an old door painted red. Knock once, and when you are asked, 'What reason have you to disturb the morning glory in her time of rest?', answer, 'The morning glory has wilted and died. Now is time for the moonflower to open its petals wide'." Nelriel paused, seeming to find some amusement in the phrase.

"It is a touch dramatic, I admit, but the owners are discreet and will let you board there for the night," he explained. "Dothfrit has been kind to me over the years, and she will help you prepare for our departure if you desire it. As for me," he added, anticipating a question, "I have other matters to settle to before morning arrives. I will meet you here as we previously agreed."

He gave Jager another smile, the expression reaching his eyes this time, though it betrayed a sense of mischievousness. "Is this satisfactory? Of course, I have no way of knowing whether you intend to follow my instructions."

_{(Side note: I in no way want to hijack your story, so if parts of this seem improbable or overcomplicated for your worldbuilding, just let me know and I will change this immediately! I only wanted to include a bit of mystery that'll be relevant to Nel in the future, but I have many other ways of incorporating secrets. Plus, I figured we could do a time skip to the morning regardless of where they end up for the night—though again, I'm open to anything!)}