"Errdegahr dalhar!"

Demon child...her mother would always call her that; why those words came to her now as she thumbed through the tome, she did not know. She knew why her mother called her that for her noticeable differences. Leaning against a gnarled tree, she glanced toward the smoldering village where the dragon fed, then back to the book.

"Rul'selozan rivven," she muttered, closing the book, casting a look back to the village. "Always going where they aren't welcome."

She sighed deeply, sending her thoughts to the dragon, informing him that she would no longer wait for his hunger to be quenched; there was a primary city on the horizon where she intended to learn about this Ralthier. Holding the tome in front of her, she murmured a quick incantation, returning it to her underground home before returning to the path. A lone shabby, wooden calash led by a few malnourished bulls grumbled past her; it's gruff, repulsive driver gawked at her and from inside the carriage, four more depressing faces leered from the debilitated windows. She return their looks with a scowl, letting the waning moonlight glint off of her sword, still stained with the blood of the villagers. The driver cried out hoarsely, taking heed of the warning, slapping the reigns harder against the bovines' rears as his passengers retreated into their broken down sanctuary.
Playfully, she chased after the cart, amused by their sniveling shrieks each time she neared them. She could smell their fear seep out of them and it exhilarated her. The driver grew flustered, trying to speed up the bulls and keep his eye on her and a dip in the path caught him off guard, throwing him from his weathered perch. She pounced on him as soon as he hit the ground, seizing him by his cossack; his carriage veered off the path as the bovines raced through the trees, careening it side to side. She grinned at the passenger screams, glaring down at the driver.

"Rul'selozan rivvil," she spat as she slammed him hard into the ground. "So you like to admire beauty?"

The driver coughed, "I...I...didn't mean to look! P...please...my fa...fa...family..."

She released him, caressing his rough and pitted cheeks with both her hands, tracing his pleading hazel eyes with the tips of her thumbs.

"Are all rivven cowardly milksops?" She leaned in and whispered in his ear. He shook his head, whimpering as he tried to wiggle out from beneath her. She captured his head and forced him still by pressing her thumbs into the outer corners of his eyes, "Bad boy! I am not done with you just yet."

"Pl...please..." He cried out. "What do you want?"

She leaned back, letting her full weight settle on his chest, and growled, "I want the thieves that stole from me."

The man shook his head again, "I am but a simple trader!"

"Then you deal with thieves...cowardly, lying thieves?" She laughed, bending down to let his eyes meet hers, "If you want me to let you go to fetch your putrid little family, then tell me about a man called Ralthier."

"I...I...haven’t heard of him," the driver whelped. "Please, I beg of you, please...let me go."

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed and pressed her thumbs into his eyes until they squished beneath her pressure, blinding the man; the driver screamed as she rose to her feet, "Liar! Go, you vile thing, go and fetch your family."

Without another word, she left the man writhing on the ground, screaming out for help and headed toward the city.

The village, the driver...they were as much as a distant memory as the miles she traveled. Arriving at the city gates, she cocked her head curiously at the two guards that walked toward her. One was Elvin, slenderly built and extremely attractive, and the other was a towering stout barbarian-type of man. They stopped a few feet from her as the Elvin guard glanced her over, "'Tis late of night, what brings you here, Dark Cousin?"

"Oh me?" She sighed seductively, sashaying toward them, "I'm just looking for a nice pub to quench my thirst with a few strong and beautiful men like you two."

The barbarian grinned as she positioned herself between them. She traced his strong chin ever so slightly with her finger as she arched her back to glance at the elf, giving the barbarian a little glimpse of her cleavage.

"I am just so parched," She exhaled lustfully. The elf remained stoic, unbeguiled by her charm, but took notice of his comrade's eagerness to take her up on her silent offerings.

"The Dancing Wyvern is straight down this road," the elf grumbled, jabbing the barbarian in the ribs and shooting him a stern glance. "We expect no trouble out of you."

She brushed the elf's cheek with her hand, whispering in his ear in drow, "Ssinssrigg, Usstan tlun zuch bwael a jalbol Usstan xun."

This caught him off guard, blushing his shimmering cheeks as he flustered with his words, "En...enjoy your stay in...in...."

"Cavalier, m'lady, " the barbarian's deep voice boomed, bowing before her as he swept his massive arm toward the gates.

The Dancing Wyvern was uproariously inviting; scantily clad women clung to the well inebriated patrons, making sure their steins were never empty, but that their money pouches were. She found an empty table toward the back and took a seat, leaning her chair against the wall.
A soused adventurer took notice of her and bellowed to his drinking buddies as he clumsily stood, “Aye mates, I hear the sweet whispers of a sweet dark honey pot calling me.”

He stumbled toward her table, falling down into what he must have thought was a come-hither stance, leaning against her table, “Name’s Jermet, Darlin’, owner of this fine establishment; but, ya can call me anything ya want.”

She hissed, snatching him by his tunic and dragged him toward her, “I won’t call you dead if you buy me a drink.”

“A feisty wench, ya are. I like that,” Jermet laughed. “What ya be drinking?”

She told him Honey Lager, releasing him so he could stagger over to the bar. He returned, setting down a stein in front of her then sat across the table from her, “So what brings such a rare flower like ya to the Dancing Wyvern?”

“I’m looking for a man,” she growled.

A passing by courtesan gave a shrill laugh, slapping Jermet on the shoulder, “Aren’t we all, Honey?”

Jermet chuckled, waving off the woman, and acting a lot more sober than he first appeared as he leaned in, “Lots of travelers come and go from here, Darlin’, who ya looking for?”

“A troubadour named Ralthier.” She lifted the drink, eying the boisterous crowd a few tables over.

“Aye, he passed through here a few weeks ago peddling some treasures he came across.” Jermet sighed, “said he had to rid himself of them quickly. Sold me this here trinket.”

He reached into his tunic and drew out a small oval charm, embedded with a coiled dragon surrounded by ancient ciphers. It was one of the items stolen from her library…the Ethereal Talisman of the Savage Dragon.
Recognizing the charm, she slammed her drink down, leapt onto the table and seized him by his throat before he knew what hit him, “Harbinger of thieves! Rul'selozan rivvil, taking what does not belong to you!”

She snatched the talisman away from him as several of the patrons jumped to their feet and drew their swords. Tucking the trinket into her bodice, she shoved Jermet to the floor and drew her blade in response.

Jermet rose to his feet, shouting, “Stay your swords! We don’t be needing no trouble here!”

Turning back to her, “Stay your sword. Ya’ll get no trouble here, Darlin‘. If it be yours, then it’s yours. Aye, I figured Ralthier came by it by some shady way. But spill no blood, Darlin‘.”

“Where are the others?” She seethed, pressing the tip of her sword to his neck. The two gate guards appeared in the door way of the tavern as the Dancing Wyvern’s women raced out. Jermet raised his hands, motioning for them to back away. “I’ve no time for games…where are the others!?”

To be continued…