I pass as silk across your skin, a whisper in the summer breeze and a ghost that haunts your dreams.

B’esctra cocked his head to one side when Myrnal began to speak, listening intently to her speech whilst his pearly white eyes washed across her like a wave upon the shore. A tickle of amusement crept across his blackened lips as the woman insinuated that he, of all people, attracted too much attention, when he could have been mere inches away from her, without her ever noticing, if he hadn’t been rushing to save her.

The assassin was an expert at masking his emotions however, and even though he found Myrnal’s words to be humorous his visage remained as placid as the waters of a lake. It is often said that when you can read someone’s face, like an open-book, their intentions are but a page away and so he had trained extensively in concealing his thoughts until it was too late and his sword had already tasted your flesh.

Once he had fully digested Myrnal’s words, and discerned their meaning, B’esctra was going to express his desire to help her, as if his earlier actions hadn’t spelt that out to her, but before he could do so a melodic voice swept through the trees. Normally, the female voice would have been lost amidst the creaking of branches and the rustle of leaves common to a jungle, but fortunately the hearing of a Drow was far superior to that of a human and so he could just about detect the notes of its strange and foreign dialect.

Keeping one eye cautiously focused upon Myrnal, in case she suddenly turned upon him, he took a few steps towards the sound and used the opportunity to retrieve Ghostling from his latest victim's skull as he passed by. There were two explanations for the strange voice that seemed to be drawing steadily closer to them and they were that the woman either had some allies coming to aid her, or there were more of those bastard ninja’s than he had realized.

Although the assassin trusted in his judgement, and had never been wrong when assessing a situation, he hadn’t lived this long by taking chances and so tightened the grip upon the hilt of his blade as the voices abruptly stopped. Calling across to his new ‘companion’ of sorts, B’esctra warned her” Be on your guard, whoever you are, more people are approaching”.

Taking a few steps to one side, so that his form melded perfectly with the shadow of a tree, the assassin waited in silence as the strangers approached their position and prepared to strike them down if they proved hostile to his new acquaintance, after all, where was the fun in getting to know a corpse?

Min turned back for a moment to see Altair and a mud-covered Larkin, not far behind him having an unconscious Demetri over his shoulder. The half-elf's head lolled disturbingly to one side, indicating that his condition was fast deteriorating. Ignoring them momentarily, she knelt beside Myrnal and felt for her pulse before checking her eyes and breathing.  "Sorry to bolt off like that, Myrnal... but please just try not to move. Gods know you probably helped the poison along, by the look of things."

"She's got monkshood in her blood," the instinctive reply came out in Common when she heard Altair's question, then for some reason - Min found herself repeating it in Nijonese. Quickly tilting the woman's head upwards, Min uncapped the vial and emptied the contents down Myrnal's throat. After a few seconds, she checked Myrnal's pulse and shook her head. "We need to find the Border Guards fast. They'll do much better in a proper inn than in the wilderness like this,"

Min looked at the dead ninja around them, and decided to check their bodies for maps or any indication of routes, or perhaps, immigration and travel papers. She crouched to touch one, then stood up abruptly. Myrnal didn't kill these people... something else did. Look at the bodies, the direction of which they fell... She couldn't have done this...

Minshara looked at the trees that she was fast beginning to hate. "Myrnal... What the hell happened while we were gone?"

Silence is a tool that the ignorant overlook, but in the right hands, it is more deadly than any weapon.

B’esctra stood in the shadows like some grotesque statue as Minshara and her other companions approached them, preparing his body to spring into action at a moments notice but luckily, for them at least, his caution proved unnecessary. Watching patiently from his hidden vantage point, the assassin saw Minshara drop to her knees and start to fuss over his new ally, as if they had been friends for years, which caused him to relax slightly, relax that is, until she spoke once more.

At first, the words came in common, but the tongue that painted them on the canvass of his eardrum was unmistakably the same as the one he had heard a few moments before. B’esctra was almost inclined to believe that he had imagined hearing the other language, and it had simply been a trick of the wind, but that thought was squashed just as quickly as it sprung to life when the dirt-flecked woman muttered another exotic sentence.

Absorbing the information like a sponge would water, his keen mind shifted the various syllables and inflections around inside his head for a few seconds and reached a conclusion in time to translate the sentence just before Myrnal jerked a finger in his direction. B’esctra decided that there was no reason to conceal his presence, now that his ally had betrayed his location and, apparently, her healer had deduced that she was not alone as well, judging by the warning she cried out.

Emerging from the shadows like some snow-white spectre, the Drow assassin glanced briefly from one person to the next and paused for a second or two to ‘size them up’ before continuing to the next one until his gaze eventually came to rest upon Minshara’s mud-caked face.

Spreading his arms slightly wider than normal, in a gesture that signalled he meant the companions no harm, he addressed Minshara directly instead of asking Myrnal to introduce them and, as a sign of good faith, even used his new understanding of her language to ensure she fully understood his intentions. “ I hear you are called Ito, Ito Hatsumi to be precise. Well then Ito, know that I mean you no harm” and here he stopped for a moment to indicate the entire group with his thumb before continuing” I seek someone to guide me to Nijon, do you know where that is?”

Although B’esctra had no idea what language he was speaking, these travellers didn’t look like bandits and so the only other explanation for them being here was that they too, were trying to head to Nijon, and the prospects that awaited them there.

 

It is said that the enemy of your enemy, may be considered a friend, but to a Drow, friendship was more than just convenience.

Slender digits trailed thoughtfully through blue locks of hair as Minshara spoke, though they were careful to avoid the hundreds of tiny blades hidden within the thick mane and helped B’esctra think as he focused on understanding a language he was beginning to learn.

Once he was sure that he had deciphered the majority of the woman’s words he busied himself by raising his sword up and licking the blade clean of blood, as Minshara proceeded to translate her previous sentence into common for the rest of the party. When Ghostling was no longer tainted with the remnants of a wound the Drow stared at Minshara with eyes as blank as a block of stone, almost as if they were still waiting to be chiselled and defined but then, as his piercing gaze rested upon her, she unleashed a fresh hail of questions.

Initially, the Drow replied in Nijionese, his tone and pitch becoming more confident with each and every word as his brain grew accustom to it but then he repeated himself in common, answering both of Minshara’s questions in one fell swoop.
“ You are in the presence of B’esctra, master of many tongues beside his own”.

When he had introduced himself, he elegantly twirled his short sword through the air and then in one fluid movement, replaced it snugly in it’s sheathe upon his back before continuing. “ Your friend there was lucky I came by “ and here he nodded his head towards Myrnal” I could tell she was poisoned the moment I saw her, but you seem to have taken care of that”. B’esctra saw no reason to boast or chase praise like most men did and so when he spoke of Myrnal, to him it was nothing more than a statement of fact and he hoped that now they knew he had rescued their companion, they would stay their blades..at least for the time being.

Lucky you came by my ass. Not only are my allies sticking their noses into everything, but total f@#$ing strangers seem to be collecting in my wake lately.

She sighed and let the others talk. The fact that the stranger was a drow wasn't a great cause of alarm for her. She knew that their culture wasn't precisely conducive to creating trustworthy and cuddly individuals, but she'd met a few who'd turned their race's violent background into a fairly solid notion of honor. Not much evidence either way for this B'esctra, but Myrnal made it a point not to judge people's character on things like that. He couldn't control his race, just as Myrnal had certain things she couldn't control, but nonetheless were likely to come up eventually.

If she was lucky, her allies would give her the same benefit of the doubt when her time came around. Not everyone did, but maybe by then the group would have been through enough that they wouldn't think much of it.

“Let’s get you up now. A woman of your courage should always remain standing."

She laughed, a thin and voiceless sound that didn't carry far. "D'n h'v t'bl'w smoke p'my 'ss." She looked over to Altair wearily. Her laugh wound down to a sigh. "B't sh'r. Y'r't. S'go." She put an arm down to the ground to start pushing herself up, but she couldn't seem to hold her own weight just now. The movement triggered a tense moment in which Myrnal closed her eyes and fought back nausea. It was controllable, though. After a couple of seconds she was fine again. Yet another obnoxious symptom.

She looked over to Altair and nodded. If she was going to have to deal with this, she might as well see if she couldn't get out of the damned jungle. As Altair reached down to help her out, she took a sudden deep, gasping breath. She had to fight to slow her breathing down again, and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. She turned away from Altair and pressed her hands to her forehead. Her breathing was speeding up again, and she couldn't seem to stop herself. She couldn't tell if she was dizzy from breathing so hard, or if the herbal cocktail she'd been given was seriously screwing up her system.

The hell did she give me?

Myrnal lifted her face from her hands and stared at Somnia.

"You moved?" You're kidding me, she thought.

Her attention taken away from her own body running wildly out of control, Myrnal couldn't help but crack a smile.

But it's true, she thought with a grin. I did. Something about Somnia's comment was too amusing to ignore. For the first time in days, maybe even weeks, Myrnal had something to smile about, and when she looked up to see the girl frowning down at her, the whole situation just became too goofy.

An amused snort turned into a chuckle and the rest just wouldn't be held in. The ninja let herself go for a moment and released a free cascade of laughter. Myrnal was surprised to hear the relief in her own voice. Where the hell did people like Somnia even come from? Minshara had just been keeping her alive for her own protection, but Somnia, Altair... these people had no real reason to give a damn. They had no reason to, but they apparently did, even if Myrnal still couldn't fathom why. This was totally outside her frame of reference, but she couldn't complain for now. Myrnal had never liked her comfort zone much anyway.

The truth was that Myrnal didn't expect consideration from most people. One of the fundamental assumptions she'd built her life on was that people like her didn't matter to anyone else, so it always caught her off guard. Most people who knew her would be surprised to realize how readily she responded to kindness. It was a need she had a great deal of trouble facing in herself, but it didn't take much to be a better friend than Myrnal had any right to expect. Small things meant a lot, and sometimes all it took was a kind word or two to make things seem a little better.

Still smiling, she gave standing up another try, and had more or less the same luck as before. Before she could slip too far, Altair caught her around the waist and helped her get her balance. Tossing him a thumbs up, she waved Somnia off.

High up here, she thought once she was standing again. I'm only a few paces high; I shouldn't get vertigo just from standing up. She looked down at her feet, and blinked as her feet kept seeming to... to not be where she left them. Balance isn't so good. Breathing isn't right. Apparently I'm wounded, and the only improvement is I'm beginning to feel it. Some improvement. This is going to piss me off, I can tell.

For now, as long as she could ignore having some strange man's arm around her, things weren't so bad. With the exception of their new great big drow friend, Myrnal knew where everyone stood, and that was a step in the right direction. She'd likely be stuck in Nijon for a day or two until she could get back home, but she didn't have any special problem with most of the people she'd been thrown together with.

Some are actually pretty okay, she thought with another glance to Somnia. Eh, she dismissed the notion. Girl that high strung would drive me nuts. Probably best to leave the whole thing alone. Pressing business and all.

Myrnal took a deep breath, trying and failing to keep the speed of her breathing down. At least she was getting some of her fine motor control back and it wasn't so hard to talk. In something of a better mood than she'd been in since this job began, she took an appraising look around at her comrades. "G'tta go 'fore w'get our 'sses kick'd 'gain, eh?"