Xenovia

Xenovia

Gutter Devil
Character Profile
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The Wendway Docks
Year 349 E.O.D
Winter ebbs, Spring beckons...

It had been a long time indeed since Xenovia had last set foot upon these docks. Just under a decade, in truth, though it may as well have been a century for all the joy it brought her. 'Man, does this place reek!' Winter was in the process of breathing its last breaths. The snows were thawing, the icicles melting, and the streets had been turned into tributaries big enough to soak a poor adventurer's boots. But none of that mattered. Not right now at least.

The Keel and Caulk was a tavern like any other. Close to the water, but far enough from where the fishermen deposited their catches, it was renowned for its "beer and beauties", though mostly for its beer. It was the kind of establishment where both the uncouth and the braggartly were welcomed in equal measure.

'For coin knows no masters, only spenders!' A voice decried as Xenovia strolled in, her sodden cloak leaving a wet trail on the floorboards behind her. 'Now, whose round is it?'

An answer was not forthcoming. Xen hurried along to the bar before one of the daytalers could collar her. 'What'll it be?' The dwarf behind the counter asked, all barrel-chest and beard. His hair was as red as hers. Curly where the Deva's was silken. He was stood atop a keg marked with the Queen's Royal Crest. Where his associates had managed to find a vintage of that calibre was anyone's guess. Likely it had fallen off a wagon on its way up the King's Spire. If so, it had rolled an awful long way to wind up here.

'A stout, please, barman. Actually, best make it two.'
'Oh? Expectin' company?'
'No, no, just thirsty.'

'Right you are.' Rolling up his sleeves, Redbeard hopped down from his perch to go about fetching some mugs. Around her, the tavern burbled and heaved, tallow candles and lantern light painting the interior a dirty orange, helping the even dirtier faces to blend in. There were a few mean looks and half-veiled glances, but nothing out of the usual. Not yet, anyhow.

@Tilda von Hammersmark
 
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1744550233706.webp"First time in the Hold then?" asked the pipe smoking Syr Adelard. Well-worn green cloak draped about his shoulders, and tall feather bobbed proudly about his tarnished silvered helm. A blue and white chrysanthemum clasped the oiled wool, His boots slapped against the mud of the streets. Ash-white curls of freshly puffed smoke turned just above the mouth of his pipe stack.

"Hardly Syr," Tilda replied, her eyes on a swivvel as they made through the the pale stone warehouses and grey rock shopfronts of the old Wendway Dockside. The round slouch of the architecture gave the timeless rock a sense of slumber. Ease. As if each brick just grew the sturdier the more time it spent sat.

"Could've fooled me," he went on, teeth peeling out from behind the wide caterpillar of his winged mustache.

Tilda's eyes snapped to the veteran Anathaeum. "Beggin your pardon?"

He drew on his pipe, soft crackle and hiss. "You seem to be gawking," a hint of a grin there behind the orange glow of pipe and neath russet red stache.

A dry hint of laugh, and a show of straight teeth. "Just, new to this part of the Hold, Syr" Tilda went on. Half-plate all shine and shimmer as she marched. Gambeson still clean, boots hardly scuffed.

"Ease then, fair Hammersmark," the older knight teased as the Keel's sign hung ahead. "Ye belong, just as any other, best not to forget,"

Her brows raised at that, and she felt the stiffness in her shoulders, the strain there in her spine. She measured her breath, and felt herself lax some. She nod.

Through the door their boots knocked against the floorboards.

"G'day Redbeard," Adelard's voice cut over the din of ruckus and boozery, and made way toward the bar.

"Adelard!" the dwarf atop his keg. "New blood with ya today,"

Tilda squint at that.

"In so many words, aye," the pair drew some glances. Adelard didn't seem to notice.

Two stouts knocked against the bar. "Ten copper,"

Tilda almost had her eyes pop out of her skull. "That's it?"

"What'll it be Addy?" Redbeard asked as the older knight sat a seat apart from the horned one.

"Stouts look nice and frothy, two of those if you would,"

Redbeard nod, and moved off to his work.

No room save that between Adelard and the Deva, Tilda took the seat. "Pardon me, miss," she said as she squeezed in.
 
Lilith wasn’t much of a drinker, to be honest—her tolerance was so abysmally low that a few sips of watered-down ale were enough to knock her out. Yet she’d been to just about every dingy little bar in Crorefell at least twice by now. A bunch of the other fighters liked to get together to celebrate after their matches, on occasion, and she went with them, whether they invited her or she invited herself. Some of the stuff they drank looked and smelled pretty lousy, though, so she didn’t bother torturing herself with it—no, it was way more fun to watch them drink themselves silly, then tease them about it later when they couldn’t remember anything.

Still, taverns were interesting places full of even more interesting people. For her first time in Crown’s Hold, it only made sense for her to find one, if she wanted to experience all that the storied seaside town had to offer her.

She picked the first one that she saw—the Keel and Caulk—and strolled inside. It was still early, so it wasn’t packed, but there were just enough bodies around to keep the place warm, and she smiled in appreciation, letting her eyes roam over the clusters of people until they fell on the bar proper. There, she mused, practically skipping over to the empty seat on the other side of a horned woman. After hopping up and getting comfortable, she put her arms on the worn wood of the counter and waved at the red-bearded dwarf.

“I’ll take something sweet!” Lilith said once she’d gotten his attention. It didn’t really matter what he brought her, though the sweeter the better—that tended to help her stomach the stuff. She kept busy while she waited, shifting her gaze over to the bar’s other patrons. The horned one was probably a Deva, like her, while the other two were knights—human, if she had to guess, but it was hard to tell with all that armor covering their bodies, and the smell of booze and sweat masked everything else, so her nose was of no help.

Were they on duty? How busy was a knight in these parts? What was it even like, being a knight? Question after question popped into her head, but for the time being, she kept them all to herself and merely stared at them with wide, glittering eyes. Maybe once they got their drinks, she’d ask a few.​
 
A resounding thunk roused Seraphine from her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open from the nest of furs she had made behind a stack of crates, and she rolled over, stretching like a cat might. She stifled a yawn as boots began to pound on the deck above her. Mercifully, it appeared the trip had been quite short with the sunlight pouring in through cracks in the deck.

But where was she? She wasn't quite sure, but she knew that where there were ships, there were sailors looking for company, and that was good enough for her.

The sound of footsteps faded away, and she figured it was as good a time as any to make her escape. Rubbing the remaining sleep from her eyes, Sera stood to peek over the crates. So far so good. She scuttled out to hide behind a wall for barrels, step by step moving her way closer to the ladder to the main deck.

Just then, another set of boots could be heard boarding the ship, and she peered over the sacks she was hiding behind. A handsome young man with a stack of parchments descended the ladder, and began taking inventory. This wasn't good. Seraphine scrounged around desperately, looking for anything she could use to aid her escape, finally finding a broken plank. It would have to do.

She waited nervously as the man got closer and closer. As he approached her hiding place, Sera charged out behind him with a loud cry, bringing the plank down on his head with all her might. Unfortunately for her, It seemed the plank was rotten, splitting into many smaller pieces upon impact. "OW! What the-" the man turned to face his assailant, coming face to face with a startled elf. "SHIT!" Seraphine sprinted past him and scrambled up the ladder. She could hear him coming, and she dove off the side of the ship, reappearing a short time later to pull herself onto the main dock.

Seraphine sprinted off, not daring to look back. She did her best to get lost in the crowd and it wasn't long before the docks were behind her. She wandered the streets until she stumbled across a tavern. By then, she had stopped shivering, and her dress was nearly dry, though the same couldn't be said for her boots.

The Keel and Caulk. Seemed decent enough, but her standards weren't that high to begin with. Sera frowned as she entered. Salty sea dogs... A dwarf... A Deva, a young woman, a pair of crusty old knights... She sighed dramatically. It was clearly too early to begin playing her trade and schmoozing, so she made her way to the crowded bar, choosing an empty seat next to the young woman.

"Hey cutie," Seraphine nudged the white haired woman who, to her surprise, turned out to be another Deva. "Mind scootin' over a smidge?" She smiled sweetly, and turned her attention to the dwarf without bothering to wait for an answer. "Oi!" she called to the barkeep. "Got any mead?"
 
The stouts arrived with company. The first to sit themselves down were warriors; Xen could tell just by looking at them. Not like the armour and weapons are a dead giveaway, she smiled at her own thoughts, noting the shiny silver brooch fastening the man's cloak with a thief's eye. A bad idea, that. These weren't her Majesty's Own but they still had an air about them. Dangerous.

Like me! The Deva's smile brightened.

'Miss? My, aren't you polite.' Shifting in her seat, the devahni held up a hand to forestall Beard as he went about Abelard's order. 'Make it one stout,' she said, sliding the untouched tankard to blondie. 'Puttin' me out of business here, Red,' complained the barkeep. Xenovia suppressed a chuckle. 'You'll manage, I'm sure.' Turning her gaze back to the knights, she winked, before taking a pull of her drink.

It was then another newcomer joined them. And another.

'Somethin' sweet?' Scritching his beard, the barkeep nodded thoughtfully. 'Aye, I can do that.' Plopping Adelard's stout down in front of him, the dwarf disappeared behind the bar, the clink and clatter of questing hands the only evidence he was actually doing something back there. 'Need a hand?' Xen called out, smiling sidelong at her fellow devahni. 'Gimme a minute, will ya?!' Redbeard grumbled.

'Akmal's blessed ass crack, where did I put that mead?'

@Tilda von Hammersmark @Lilith @Seraphine Duskgloom
 
Tilda blinked at the deva's response. Blinked again at the gifted stout. "Um, you've my thanks," she said, careful to take the mug, as if it might catch fire in her hand, or give her a jolt should she touch it too quick.

Adelard shook his head. Laughed. "Might be there's where you left it," he said with a slap against the counter. Mustache a bob with his smile.

Tilda shook her head, hint of a smile there at the corner of her lips. She eyed the deva, who had... given her a drink. "Do you... frequent this establishment, miss...?" she inquired. A hand wrapped around the mug, fingers a tap about its glass.

"Oy!" a voice in the back said tightly. "This bastard's got cards up his sleeves!"

"You lot take it outside!" Redbeard Hollard as he pulled up the mead. "Honey and, for the sweet tooth," he put another one down. "Bit of Sonshan plum wine, " he didn't wait long before he started pouring a small measure. Offered it to the smaller of the two horned lasses.
 
It probably wouldn’t be much longer, Lilith told herself. Waiting wasn’t her favorite thing, but she could be patient. Not that that made it any easier for her to stay still. She started swinging her legs—her seat was tall enough that her feet didn’t touch the floor—and craned her neck to look over at a table, where a bunch of men were huddled around each other, playing some sort of card game.

"Hey cutie," someone said, then, bringing her attention back to the bar. "Mind scootin' over a smidge?"

Lilith beamed at the black-haired woman, moving so that she had more room to sit next to her. She loved getting compliments; no matter what they were, they always made her feel warm and bubbly inside. Unless they came from some creep, but she’d dealt with enough of them by now that they knew better than to try anything with her—in the Fell, at least, few men were stupid enough to risk losing their fingers and tongues.

When the red-bearded dwarf returned with their drinks, Lilith eagerly accepted hers. “Thanks!” she chirped, taking a sip and letting out a happy little hum. She hadn’t had “plum wine” before, but she liked it; it tasted a lot like juice, its sweetness masking the sour tang of the alcohol.

Drink in both hands, Lilith turned to face her newest bar-mate. “I’m not the only cute one here,” she said, her smile widening. “Your skin looks so smooth, and your hair is so long and pretty…"

She leaned toward the woman, leaving little space between them, her eyes raking over her finer features. One hand twitched as she fought the urge to reach out and take a lock of that coal-black hair between her fingers; Isra had told her not to touch people without asking first, but it was hard to remember, sometimes, and she couldn’t always help herself.

“Can I?” Lilith managed to ask, stilling the hand that had already left her drink before she could actually touch her. She would hate to upset her before they’d even gotten to know each other properly.

@Seraphine Duskgloom ​
 
Seraphine grasped her drink with both hands, and drank greedily. All that running had left her feeling drier than a desert. She finished her drink quickly with a sigh, taking a moment to eye the other patrons at the bar.

It had been a good bit since the last time she laid eyes on a Deva. Their horns and general appearance all had been a great curiosity for her, like they were some sort of mythical creature from a fairytale. But, for the most part, every one she had met had been a decent enough person.

The knights sitting with her though, were entirely bad for business. Always trying to preach their morals, in that damned haughty, self righteous tone they all seemed to share. Maybe if they pulled the sticks out of their asses, they could see how much fun those "wanton desires of the flesh" could be. This pair could be different, though Sera highly doubted it.

“I’m not the only cute one here,” Seraphine was pulled from her thoughts by the lilting voice of the younger looking Deva. “Your skin looks so smooth, and your hair is so long and pretty…" She returned the smile, faltering slightly as her barmate suddenly leaned in close. "A-Aww! Thank you! Personally I think my face could use a good scrubbing, but I appreciate you saying so!" Sera thanked whatever deities might be watching over her that she had been born an elf. Made keeping up appearances so much simpler.

"Can I?" Seraphine's smile softened at the request. It was certainly a different sort of attention than she was used to, but not wholly unwelcome. A pleasant change of pace. "Of course!" she nodded, reaching up to gently tap the tip of the deva's nose with her finger. "I'm glad to hear you think it's so pretty!" Seraphine reached behind herself to pull her hair over one shoulder, and held it out. "Mother always told me that a woman's pride is in her hair, so I do my best to take really good care of it."

"Name's Seraphine by the way, but you can call me Sera if ya want." Her smile widened. "You look pretty youthful yourself! What's your secret?! And where did you ever find such adorable clothes?"

@Lilith
 
'First time,' the devahni answered with a smile, fingers tapping at the tankard cupped between her palms. 'Xenovia, though, you can call me Xen, if'n you fancy.' Most folk tended to shorten her name. A matter of expediency, she figured, or else just plain ol' laziness. Propriety had never much been her thing, anyhow. 'What do they call you, friend...?'

Across the tavern, another voice took on a dangerous tone.

'No, I bloody well didn't! Yer just shit at readin' a deck!' There was a clatter as chairs were pushed back. Xen didn't bother looking. She had witnessed the scene unfolding behind them too many times to keep count, let alone care. 'The actors may change, but the script remains ever the same.' Shaking her head sadly, she allowed a sigh to escape her lips. 'Hope you four didn't come here for a quiet drink.' Brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, so as to better appreciate the company she kept, Xen peered over the counter at Redbeard.

'Say, Saer Barkeep, you plan on hiring some muscle anytime soon?' Her inquiry was met with a loud bang, so loud it made her tail twitch. The heated shouting devolved into incomprehensible swearing. Then, there was a challenge, followed by an almighty thump. 'On second thought, nevermind.'

@Tilda von Hammersmark
 
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"Xenovia," Tilda found herself saying. Eyes drawn to the horned woman's own. Tawny and gold as a fine drink she wouldn't mind having.

And maybe she was staring a while too long. Not that she seemed to mind any if Xenovia knew.

"It's a beautiful name," the wheat haired knight gave. Was distracted a moment by the goings on of the pair beside them. She laughed, happy to have found such playful company. Drank from her cup.

The chair screeched back.

A word betwixt Xenovia and company.

Adelard tut his tongue and shook his head. "Nae las, just looked to wet out whistle before we carried on with the day,"

"Oh!" A second screech from another chair. "So you are bloody card reading are ya?! Counting the folds?!"

"Only folds im counting are those on your mum's arse!" A bark of laughter.

A muttered curse. A fist thrown. Smack. Table crashed and coined spilled.

Tilda huffed. Slammed her hands on the bar and got up. Went towards the fight. "EXCUSE ME," she cut through the din as two card players were mid headlock and scratch.

They blinked, confused. Eyes grew large at the shine of silver on the ground. Others grew large at the shine of good steel on belt and plated over vitals.

"Is it so much to ask for a bit of calm?!"

Adelard shook his head with a sigh.

"Fuck you, ya fuckin 'Til-to-be-arse!" A bottle sailed overhead.

Tilda managed to duck it. It smashed against the back of the bar. Some of the crowd broke toward the floor to grab up coins. Others scrummed in to grab them back and try for themselves.

A bottle smashed over the head. Two fists slammed into a gut. A chair smashed over Tilda's back in a crack!
 
With a light tap of her nose, Lilith was given the permission she wanted, the woman holding out some of her hair for her. She was gentle, running her fingers over it like she would a skittish cat’s fur, listening as the woman spoke of her mother and then introduced herself. Seraphine was her name, but she could call her Sera if she wanted.​

When asked what her “secret” to her looks was, Lilith pursed her lips in thought, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t think I have one?” she admitted. “There’s a soap I like to use, and some oil that’s supposed to be good for your skin… rose oil, I think? I get them from an apothecary in town. They smell really good, and make my skin feel soft… here, see?”​

Withdrawing her hand from Sera’s hair, she held her wrist out to her, encouraging her to feel for herself. “Oh, and I do a lot of training and eat a lot of red meat!” she added, smiling. It definitely kept her limber, though the meat Isra insisted on both because of how small she was and how her particular magic worked; something about needing the nutrients and all that extra iron to replenish her blood.​

“My clothes I had specially made,” she continued, pinching the hem of her dress. “I used to wear these all the time, too, but they kept getting dirty and having to clean them over and over again was annoying. Now I just wear them whenever I’m out.” That was one of the main reasons, at least. One of Isra’s friends was a seamstress, but she got tired of always having to fix her dress up after her fights, so she’d offered to make her a brand new one, so long as she promised to be more careful with it. Lilith was good at keeping promises.​

All of a sudden, there was a commotion behind them—shouting and swearing and a loud bang. Startled, Lilith turned to look just in time to see a man go falling over the table, sending cards and coins everywhere. One of the knights at the bar stood, then, seeming to take it upon herself to stop whatever was happening before it could get any worse. Lilith watched her expectantly, feeling absurdly lucky that she’d chosen today of all days to go tavern-hopping; she might get to see a real knight in action, sword and all!​

More shouting, more swearing. A bottle went flying past their heads behind the bar, and that seemed to break the tension in the air, because then it was chaos all around them—people scrambling for coins and throwing punches left and right. Lilith’s eyes grew wide, and she glanced briefly back at Sera, then the bar. Hands shot out for her previously neglected drink, and in one swift motion she drained the rest of it in a single gulp, then slammed the empty mug back down. Feeling her whole body practically start to buzz with excitement, Lilith lifted her legs so that she could perch on her stool, looking not unlike a red-and-white frog, her eyes scanning the tumultuous scene before them for something, something… there!​

“Hey, Sera,” she called to her new friend, flashing her a toothy grin. “I’m Lilith. Watch this!”​

It was all the warning she gave before leaping into the fray. Her target was whoever had attacked the knight—she saw them with the chair and had been too slow to stop it, but they were near enough that she could latch onto their back, her arms wrapping around their neck. Surprised, they cried out and tried to throw her off, but she laughed and tightened her grip, her legs slotting around their hips to better keep her in place. Like hell she was going to sit by and watch while the rest of them had fun without her!

@Seraphine Duskgloom @Tilda von Hammersmark ​
 
Glass shattered. Tortured timbers came apart under the weight of hurled bodies. Pandemonium ensued, and not the fun, enjoyable kind. This was brass and broken bones. Knives and knuckles and boots in bad places. In short, trouble. The sort that would bring the Guard running once word got out. It always did in Crown's Hold.

Sighing, Xen picked a shard of something sharp from her stout, placed it gently on the bar.

'Can't get a moment's peace,' she muttered, heartbroken, even as a smile graced her lips. Syr Adelard chuckled in response to her whispered words. 'Dinnae ye worry, lass. Soon be closin' time, way they're goin'.' A sailor yelped as they were sent sailing across the room. Chairs and stools were brandished like clubs and put to use. Here, there, everywhere. It was only when one caught Tilda square that Xen finally acquiesced to put down her drink.

Something small and vicious flew over her head, colliding with Tilda's assailant as Xen stooped to lay a hand on the knight's arm. 'Need help there, hot stuff?' She nearly got an elbow in the face for her troubles, which would've been a shame; she liked her nose the way it was, unbroken, and cute as a button.

'Took quite the knock there, so you did! Count yourself lucky - the chair came off much worse.' Her gaze flitted to the shrapnel littering the floor at their feet. She grinned as she scooped up a leg, offered it to Tilda.

'Try using this,' she said, 'should get your message across.'

Pounding footsteps made her turn sharpish, arm coming up instinctively to shield her face, just in time to avoid getting brained by a makeshift club. Apparently, some other fucker had come up with a similar idea. Very smart, and very stupid.

Her fist lashed out to connect with her attacker's chin, painting his blockish smile red. His friend leapt at her, too. Straight on. The silly fool!

Cracking her knuckles, Xenovia loomed over the defeated with all the air of a conqueror come to town. The fight had risen in pitch since its conception, growing vicious in its old age. 'Back you up?' She shouted in order to be heard over the din. Amber eyes flitted to Tilda, and she grinned, eager to show a few drunken fools the art of pain.

@Tilda von Hammersmark @Lilith @Seraphine Duskgloom
 
The door opened and Hawkflesh saw anarchy as he entered the Keel and Caulk. Not that he knew the name, only that drink was served and he had coin to spend on it.

He stepped around a woman in armour being assisted by a very strong looking woman with horns making only the briefest of eye contact as he did so.
"Evening ladies!"

Next was a smaller one, choking out a bigger one which he managed to avoid from throwing a flailing fist at him.
"Don't mind me, nice technique!"

At last he made it to the bar and on it as luck would stand was a bottle of some very nice looking booze. So he reached for it only to have it snatched away by an angry looking woman with many arm tattoos who moved to smash it against the bar.
"No THAT NEVER..."

Her cry of pain as the glass shattered in her hand, slicing into her flesh with shards of pain made worse by the very high alcohol content of the bottle. She gripped her hand and called him something he didn't think he'd repeat to a corpse and ran off as if he had been the offending party.
Forlorn at the loss of what seemed like completely drinkable paint stripper he took a peek over the bar and found the cowering landlord. So he dropped a pair of coins on the ground next to his quaking knees.

"Bottle of gutrot please, I wish to forget this awfulness."

With any luck he'd neck this bottle and be nice and numb by the time the next person with an axe to grind and left their sense in a fishing bucket came by.
One could only hope.
 
"Back me up?" Tilda's eyes flicked from the roguish charmer, down to the chair leg in her hand, shook her head in a quick no. "That's not-"

A smash and a splash against the floor. Adelard but peered over to the mess and shook his head. Sipped again at his drink. Turned, and avoided the smash of a chair tossed across the room. Wood splintered and sprayed against green cape. A casual smack of fingers to get rid of the debris.

Tilda's head snapped back to the siege at hand. Neverminded the newcomer, politly mosying through. But saw a white haired bastard try and bull Xenovia over. A snap down of teeth, feet sure beneath her, Tilda rammed the bastard back. Legs squat low, so she could better drive the point of shoulder and elbow through the fucker.

He crashed up and out and into the floor with a crunch. All groans and rolls as he thought better than to get up.

Foots stomped toward her, and she turned to catch club against her own. The wood slipped down on her knuckles with a crunch. A suck of air through teeth. Off hand grabbed the new fucker by the back of the skull with an iron grasp that ripped shaggy hair from root. Shook, and yanked the fucker down onto a hard knee driven up into the flat of the fucker's face.

Another big bastard rammed straight at Tilda's flank.
 
Not a good idea, not what I wanted, take your pick! The crash and clatter was all about them now. No stopping it. Shrugging the greatsword from her shoulder, Xen took to using it as one might a stave or poleaxe, the fight far too up close and personal for naked steel. Besides, there was already enough blood soaking the floorboards without her adding to it.

'Not the worst welcome home party I've ever been to,' she murmured to herself, nodding to the white-haired corpse wandering on by to join Adelard and Red Eyes at the bar.

The next fella to come her way wasn't so friendly. Tilda saw to him before she could even think to move. Xen didn't bother hiding her approval. 'A bit of technique to your tussle,' the devahni grinned as she shot Adelard a look over her shoulder. 'Anything else I should know about her?' Bottles clinked and clunked as Redbeard made to protect his merchandise. Adelard shrugged, snatching a tankard from the air before it could crease his crown.

Around them, the brawl burned on. It would teeter out sooner or later. Whenever the guards decided to show up, really. Until then, they would just have to fend for themselves and each other.

Sticking close to Tilda, Xen turned to meet the thug creeping up on her flank. A big bastard with boulders for hands, he yelped like a choir boy when she struck his elbow from down under. The pig sticker he had been holding landed with a solid thunk, and Xen lunged forwards, driving the guarded blade into his solar plexus, hard enough to help him forget how to breathe.

Hooking the knife away with her boot, the Deva met a club crossways, knocking it aside. A fist stung her face, and she growled, driving the pommel of her sword into her assailant's belly. She hit him again as he doubled up, and once over when he hit the ground, just to make sure.

The guy the smaller devahni had latched onto stumbled past. His left foot caught on a table leg and he started to topple, much like the table itself.

It was then Xenovia heard the shrill sound of whistles from outside.

@Tilda von Hammersmark @Lilith @Hawkflesh @Seraphine Duskgloom
 
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