Lamorian Beginning

Written by Lahtori

Fur matted, covered in month-old mud, dirt, dust, dried blood, and now fresh sand, a snow leopard Tabaxi approaches the tavern counter. The owner, a middle-aged human man with dark skin and brown eyes regards her with an air of caution.
“Wut can I get’cha?” he says in a thick accent.
The tavern itself is relatively small but is full of patrons each wearing the colorful clothing of this desert town. Young barmaids go to and from tables, carrying trays full of beverages and foods, occasionally stopping for conversation with their customers. The atmosphere here is lively but not rowdy. At first glance, the majority of the patrons appear Human, but a few minority races have taken places at various tables.
“Room… with a bath. Water… Food? Please,” the Tabaxi replies, her voice hoarse. Each word scratches at her throat, coughs threatening to break through. She does her best to stifle them. She reaches into her pockets and pulls out one perfectly round and shining gold coin, sliding it across the counter to the man, whose eyes grow wide at the sight.
He nods, taking the gold coin in his hands, “Can do, Miss…?”
“That includes,” she starts, her throat sears up in pain and a dry cough escapes, “no names.”
Once more he nods and slides a small brass key to her. “Fo’rth room on da right. Food an’ drink c’min to yah.”
She accepts the key and heads upstairs, keeping her head low, ears pointed down, tail tucked, attempting to draw as little attention to herself as possible. The fourth room on the right sports a small well-made bed, a wooden table with an accompanying chair, and a side table with an oil lamp. A second door leads into a side room with a small private bath. Light sun washes the main room through the window on the far wall, giving a view to the busy market street below.
Immediately, she closes the door and securely locks it before heading to the window, checking for a lock that isn’t there, and then looks outside to the street. Hundreds of people, all dressed in similarly bright colorful clothing as the tavern’s patrons, walk to and from shops and small stands erected along the outer edges of the road. Merchants shout into the street, waving merchandise or signs high above the crowd, attempting to acquire new customers. The Tabaxi spends a few minutes studying the street, standing at an angle to the window so that any looking up at her would not see her. Seemingly satisfied after a moment, she sits down on the bed - it bounces slightly under her weight. A sigh escapes her lips. How long has it been since she’s last seen a bed? Felt a bed?
Placing her silvered Elven made bow beside her on the bed, she takes off her bag and quiver, then works on her boots, emptying out a generous pile of sand. Free from her worn boots, she stretches her toes and checks her claws, noting the one on her right foot worn down to the cuticle.
A knock sounds at her door. Her hand instinctively reaches for her bow, but she stops herself and rests it on one of her daggers still tied to her belt. Having sat down for the first time in weeks, she groans as she forces herself to stand once again. She opens the door a tiny crack, just enough for her to look out into the hall, pulling her dagger out of its sheath and bringing it up, ready to strike. A young dark-skinned and dark-haired girl in a clean white and orange dress waits with a platter of meats and vegetables, along with a water-skin.
“I uh…” the girl looks frightened at the dagger being held towards her. She looks down at the platter and back at the purple eyes staring at her from inside the room. “Yah - Yah ordered?”
The Tabaxi puts the dagger away, reaches into her pockets again with her free hand and pulls out a handful of shining coins. She looks at them with a bit of worry, then keeps two silver coins in her palm, returning the rest to her pockets. Still airing on the side of caution, she opens the door with her foot wide enough to grab the tray and water-skin and leaves the two silvers in the outstretched hands of the shocked barmaid. She remains standing there, confusion changing to shock - two silver is more coin than she’ll earn in two months work - as the door is shut and locked once more.
In no time at all, the food is eaten, the water is drunk, and the bath is taken. With another exhausted sigh, she lays down on the bed and closes her eyes, one hand resting on her bow. In what only feels like mere minutes, she is awoken by panicked sounds coming from the street below. Her heart beating fast, she stands up, bow in hand, and grabs an arrow from the quiver, nocks it in place, and approaches the window at an angle again. Keeping her breathing at a minimum, she peeks down into the street. She’s greeted with the visage of hundreds of people staring and pointing forwards, high into the sky. Windows from the shops and homes across the street open, heads pop out, eyes widening as they too see something above.
Shifting her bow and arrow so that she can keep it all in place with one hand, she opens her window and looks out. She sees it too now. A beam of light piercing the heavens, it must be a few hundred miles away… There’s a communal gasp as the beam parts the clouds, and in a flash of light, temporarily blinding all, transforms into one giant circular band of light.
The entire street below stands motionless, transfixed by the strange appearance in the sky. Her eyes are the first to break free, and that’s when she notices, out of the corner of her eye, well-hidden in the sea of colorful clothing, that face she recognizes too well. The last of her held breath escapes her lips. As if hearing her, or sensing her, the owner of the face looks up, their eyes locking for a mere moment before a wide snarky grin forms on his lips. Shivers run down her fur as she quickly ducks down, away from the window.
It’s too soon. She had only just arrived. He… He’s finding her faster each time.
“Elisa Denner,” a female voice interrupts her thoughts.
In one fluid motion, Elisa maneuvers her bow up, arrow properly nocked, turns and lets the arrow fly. Her eyes unblinking, her pupils narrow as she watches the cloaked figure - inside her room - sidestep and catch the arrow before it hits the door. She catches a glimpse of a strange mask before the intruder gracefully readjusts her cloak.
“Who are you?” Elisa asks as her brain attempts to understand how someone got in through a locked door without making any sound at all, and how to reach her quiver which she had left by her bed without subjecting herself to possible attacks.
It was difficult to tell who was in front of her. From the voice, Elisa knew it was a woman, but her clothing and that mask of hers made it difficult for her eyes to focus. The harder Elisa tries to perceive, the blurrier the intruder appeared.
“You-” the figure starts.
“Who are you?” Elisa interrupts, asking the same question. Her hand tightens around her bow. Her bow is made of silver, and quite sturdy, if needed Elisa would use it as a melee weapon.
A tussle is heard from the street.
“Listen closely,” the woman states, taking a careful step forward. Seeing Elisa recoil, she then extends the arrow in her hand, offering it in a show of good faith. “My name is Igni and I come with a proposition for you. I know who you are, where you are from, and what is trailing you. We can help you.”
Shouting is heard from below, in the tavern’s main room. The hooded woman takes another step, grabbing Elisa’s belongings. Elisa’s eyes narrow, watching this Igni woman closely. The shouting grows louder. As panicked shouts in foreign tongues are hurled out onto the street, followed by the sound of a crowd breaking into panic and fleeing, Igni tosses Elisa her bag and quiver.
The moment Elisa’s hand closes around her bag, wooden splinters fly through the room as the door is obliterated in one fell kick. Igni mutters a curse under her breath and turns to meet the second intruder. Instincts taking over, Elisa takes this opportunity to dive headfirst through the window and down into the street. Changing into a somersault midway through her fall, she lands on her feet, and with newfound energy, is off running, disappearing into the sea of panicked civilians.
She takes a sharp right and enters a darker alleyway that should head out to the outer walls of the town. Adrenaline fueling her speed, she doesn’t notice the cloaked figure reappear in front of her. In what looks like her head shaking in a disappointed fashion, Elisa is knocked out cold with one clean punch to the solar plexus.
“Of all the…” Igni groans, securing Elisa and her items while checking their surroundings. “Why did I get stuck with both princesses?”
Grey smoke begins to seep out of the bottom of her cloak, filling the alleyway. With another shake of her head, she and Elisa disappear into the quickly forming dense fog. When it clears, both have vanished entirely, leaving no trace.