Somnia lowered her hands looking a bit down at Myrnal's reaction, shuffling her left boot against the floor for a while.  Where did THAT come from?  Saying it was one thing, but acting it out was completely another.  Maybe she was still half asleep, doing those kinds of crazy things.  Thinking about it made her embarrassed again, and nervous to be talking to Myrnal.  She could manage it, though.  Things were safe, and she hadn't been dragged into another random fit of trouble.

"Ah...oh no.  I just though you were...um.  Too...wea--POISONED...poisoned, tired from the poison still, and tired.  You should probably go back to resting, Miss Myrnal."

Somnia stood straight again as her embarrassment began to subside, looking down into the other doors again with the same apprehensive look.  Scream?  She didn't hear any scream.  What Myrnal said was right, since if it was a problem for them it would be a problem right now.  Not later.  Still, mentioning screams on top of Myrnal popping out so suddenly like that.  It didn't sit well with Somnia.  Not one to push issues that may rub her company the wrong way, Somnia decided to leave the issue alone just the same.

"Are you...um.  Going back to sleep?  Miss Myrnal?  I imagine you...would...feel like napping all year with the business we've been in.  Ahaha~" the girl laughed nervously, though that experience was almost as bad as the time a Shadow Dragon accosted her in the middle of a perfectly peaceful looking meadow of flowers.  Not for the raw danger, but for the mental strain.  People are far too unpredictable.  At least she KNEW the dragon was against her.  Blinking for a few seconds with a tilt of her head, Myrnal DID resemble that shapeshifting troublemaker of a dragon who put her through two years of haphazardly random treasure hunting as her personal mule.

"You...wouldn't happen to be part...  ...Nevermind, nothing."

Tread carefully pilgrim, for with each step you take, you are walking on my dreams..

When alarmed voices reached his ears, the assassin had recovered enough to rest his hand warily on his sword-hilt, ensuring that if anyone did burst in they did not have the time to leap to conclusions and attack him. Minshara’s words came crisp and clear in response to the stranger’s cries however and set their hearts at ease so that they passed by uneventfully and left her alone with B’esctra’s colourless gaze.

He relinquished his grasp upon his weapon as soon as the potential danger had departed, indicating plainly that he still meant the woman no harm, and was therefore surprised by the sentence she blurted out next. The Drow’s fingertips subconsciously traced their way over the runes that she spoke of as Minshara scorned their presence, reminding him of the strange religions that dominated Entar’s people.

Good and bad, right and wrong, these were all associations that normal people felt, when faced with the prospect of God. B’esctra had never known mercy, had never known compassion and because of his isolation from his own culture, he had also never known their patron deity. His knee’s did not bend at his name, his fist did not raise at others blasphemy because in truth, devotion was as foreign to him as love and he did not understand its relevance.

Ignoring the fact that she had switched to common, B’esctra defiantly continued to speak in her native tongue, for he wished to master it with practice, not give up at the first sign of difficulty like weaker creatures would. “ No god numbers me amongst their servants, of that you need not fear Minshara “. The voice he spoke in was so hollow and devoid of emotion that it sounded like someone discussing the weather, rather than volatile information and therefore seemed honest beyond reproach.

“ Trust is a difficult thing to give, and even harder to receive Minshara, I understand this. “ Considering what he was about to do for a moment, B’esctra wondered what side-effects the innocent woman would incur before opening a path in his psyche that few would dare to explore, if they knew where it really lead.

“ Use your gift now and see with your mind, what my words cannot convey” and with that the slues gates were open, the dam had sprung a leak and a veritable tide of memories were unlocked before her inquisitive senses.

Do you see?!- A world of darkness unfolds before you, a world of waking nightmares and hidden terrors that lie just beyond your vision. A land where there is no sunlight, no grass and no trees, only vast labyrinths of stone and strangled forests of mushrooms. Every sound is an enemy, every source of water a trap and every friend a rival in disguise.

These are the memories of every Drow child though, and just the beginning of a deeper damnation.

Cruelty is common among the Underdark and it is said that none know this better than the Drow, but whilst even the weakest of creatures would serve as slaves for their empire, there are other beasts that are less forgiving, less patient and far less understanding. The Illithids that captured B’esctra were inhumanly detached, even by Drow standards and were willing to go to any lengths to create the perfect weapon, no matter how many lines they crossed in the process.

Do you see?!- B’esctra had been in the Mind-Flayers clutches for several months now and each day began with wave after wave of psionic energy being fired towards his brain, bombarding it so heavily that entire portions of it were damaged in the process. Emotions were subdued and his spindly frame was enhanced and improved so that when the ‘tests’ began, it could endure more punishment than most men thought possible.

Do you see?!- He could not sleep, he could not rest, for his new masters were relentless in their experiments. B’esctra was forced into suicidal situations and then left to fight his way out of them, was forced to train twenty two hours a day with sword, with cunning and with agility until his sense of identity was lost amidst his instincts.

He was taught to kill without hesitation or remorse, taught to react like lightning and adapt intuitively to unexpected events. Brain-washed and reprogrammed from a curious child, into a heartless assassin, the pain of his loss would have crushed men’s spirits, would have driven them into madness and despair but no matter how many times he was broken down, no matter how many times he was dismantled, he somehow found the strength to survive.

Each scar on his face had meaning, each crease on his skin had purpose and now the void that dwelled inside him, like an all-consuming vacuum, would be revealed to Minshara.

Whilst she was probing his past however, and discerning his intentions, he decided to take the opportunity it presented and peered into her own background so that when the link was eventually broken, the betrayal she too had suffered in her youth was fresh in his mind.

Somnia thought about what Myrnal asked for a few seconds.  'Long as nobody poisons me again or stabs me in the face.', Myrnal said.  Was she asking if SOMNIA was planning on doing that, or someone else?  Or did it mean if Somnia was willing to do something like that.  Her sword was a bit too large to stab someone in the face, and though it wouldn't be the most effective way to attack someone with such a large weapon, it could be done.  It was all too complicated, so very complicated.  Instead of putting further thought into it, Somnia shook her head with a soft squeak of "No".

As she started to bid Myrnal a goodnight, putting her key back into her longcoats pocket, she noticed that things seemed a bit too 'light'.  Patting herself for a while, looking back and forth while digging her hands anywhere she could, she noticed what was amiss.  Her coinpouch.  It was still at the hotsprings  Gasping and reaching for Myrnal's shoulders with frantic eyes that looked as if the world was about to end, Somnia whined with the deep seeded fear that someone--something would be coming for her in the night.  Though, Myrnal seemed so brave in the face of such adversity.  Somnia didn't want to look like a coward in front of her, less she get teased and embarrassed again.  With whatever predator lurking about in the night, and what horrors could have brought forward a scream, Somnia didn't want to go alone.

"Ah...um.  ...I think I left my coinpouch at the hotsprings.  Huu.  But I don't want to go alone, it's too sca--ah, um...it's such a long walk back there, and if someone was to come after you and see me leaving, they might try to take advantage of the situation!  And and and you might do good to relax in some of the good mineral water and...maybe a walk would help and..."

Somnia slouched, dropping her hands to her sides with a jingle of the chains around her blade's shealth.

"Myrnal, why'd you hafta say about screams?  I'm scared now..." 

Eh...EEEEH?!

Somnia blinked while lifting her head, skittering back and forth slightly before rushing over to Myrnal.  She was actually going to come with, and not even so much as an argument or some sort of angry rant to belittle the girl in the least bit!  Thank goodness.  It wasn't just that the idea of some unknown predator being inside the inn that bothered her, but Nijon was a big place.  Already she felt like so many strangers had been staring at her, watching her every move, wanting to talk to her and whispering behind her back.  On that note, as Somnia nervously put herself under Myrnal's arm, just who was she with now?  She questioned it a bit as the girl helped her somewhat randomly picked companion found in the Quegan Jungle out of the Kokai Inn, her face burning a bit as she pondered the situation.

They left the Inn, into the rather fresh and undisturbed public view that was--for Somnia--like leaving a cave after days of being lost.  It was so nice outside, too.  No reason to be cooped up in some kind of in, whining about screams and stabbing faces and poison.  Somnia looked around the trade district as she shuffled about with her newfound co-shuffler Myrnal, searching throughout what little nightlife was to be offered.  It was mostly the taverns that were open at night, maybe a few open food vendors associated with the taverns that catered to the drunks, night travelers, and the outsiders that were still up for a midnight snack.  There was life to be had, however, further down.

The path was always the same, and always decorated whether it be night or day.  Simple lanterns in red wood with glass covers dangled amongst tall trees with bowed branches, the dim light that passed over a dirt road reaching outside of the trade district covered in footprints and a few honorable late night strollers.  The breeze was mostly blocked through the path by a few trees that rustled heavily, lights deeper within the natural park glowing amongst the tents and tables of those who would set up camp outside of the busier areas rather than worry themselves with the dealings of scrutinizing society.  The path looked to be long, but just as quickly as Myrnal and Somnia passed throughout the trade district from the inn, the outline of a glittering light began to take shape.

The fires of tall cane torches glowed over a rather wide, circular pool of water that reached into a quarry of large, gray rocks with wooden shacks and shelters overlooking the outskirts of the rest of the land, candle-lit rooms still glowing yellow with night patrons entertaining their friends, and stewards of the hotsprings shuffling to and fro with baskets of food and casks of drink.  It wasn't lively, but the Hanahime Onsen certainly seemed to be teeming with life.  As they came closer, it was obvious that a few of the customers were just getting their parties started, the sounds of boisterous laughter and rumbling idle chatter as a few doors opened and closed rumbling almost as joyous as a festival.  A smile crept over Somnia's face as the Onsen came back into sight, and without thinking the girl licked her lips.  There was a certain drink that she forgot to have while relaxing as hard as possible before falling asleep.

"Your feet are going to squeal when they start soaking, Myrnal!"

In coming to know your enemies, so too, will you discover what they are capable of.

A kind man would have comforted her, a gentle soul would have soothed her suffering and held her in their arms but these people were not B’esctra and so he watched in silence as his companion crumpled to the ground. The Drow had often wondered if the Mind-Flayers had tried their experiments before, how many creatures had come before him and how many had perished from the terrible tests that followed?

The assassin doubted that he would ever know for certain but when Minshara delved into his mind and was assaulted by his  maddening memories he suddenly realized that he would get a rare opportunity to observe how someone else reacted, someone with feelings, someone with a heart.

Cold and unmoving, the vigil continued as he watched the agony of his past ripple across her face, burning furiously in her eyes as she experienced the life B’esctra had lost and the excruciating way in which it was stolen from him. Whilst he was intently watching her features for reactions however, the assassin’s mind started to receive some external stimuli as memories tunnelled their way into his psyche and painted a different picture of Minshara altogether.

Some of the scenes seemed irrelevant to her development, like the moment of her birth and the satisfied glow in her mothers face. These were things that B’esctra decided to ignore and, pushing past them, he eventually arrived at scenes more appealing to his senses, beginning with the way the young woman learned to fight.

Studying these foreign techniques intricately, down to the slightest twitch of muscle and distribution of weight, the assassin quietly inserted himself into the memory so that when Minshara kicked, he kicked alongside her and when she made mistakes, he learnt to avoid them.

As one memory ended, and another began, B’esctra’s tongue stung with the taste of betrayal that Minshara endured, as friends turned against her and flung her into the ravenous sea. The sensation that the Drow encountered at this revelation though was neither pleasant nor foul because it was a familiar sight to him, an occurrence so common in the Underdark he compared it to breathing.

Perhaps our homelands are not so different afterall he thought as Minshara fought her way free of his memories and struggled back to reality, displaying a strength of will that normal people would call ‘courageous’, to say the least.

Speaking slowly, so that Minshara had enough time to register the words, the Drow decided to try an experiment of his own and instead of addressing her in Nijionese, he spoke in Drow. “ It seems we have more in common than I thought Minshara. Perhaps now you understand how little I feel for Maedhros, or any other god for that matter. “.

B’esctra wasn’t sure if Minshara would have retained enough information from his memories to understand the language of his people but even if she didn’t decipher his words, the meaning of his name would definitely have been revealed.

B’esctra, he thought, or in the common tongue ‘Monster’. This was the name he had taken when he had fled the Mind-Flayers clutches and journeyed to the surface for the little Drow’s heart died in those tunnels and there was no word now, for what he had become.

"Mmmm..." Somnia wondered to herself, leaning her head from side to side.  She looked more like a princess without any purpose outside her castle walls while thinking, a rather simple expression on her flawless caramel face.  What did Myrnal mean, 'How are you?' just now?  It was true that Myrnal was pretty banged up, but they were together.  Maybe she just wanted to ask her to be nice.  The girl felt a little uncomfortable with the answer, mumbling little snippets of sounds for a while as she tried to escape Myrnal with her eyes far away.

"Well...I um.  I--I'm okay.  A little tires I s-suppose.  Sure will feel nice to nap freely f-f-for the the the n-next few days.  How are y--er, of course you're...poison.  Legs.  But I don't...er, I mean.  W-what I meant to say was...it isn't that you're heavy or...NOT HEAVY AT ALL I'M JUST SAYING.  Light as a f-f-ferret.  I could throw you if I wanted, ahahaha, like a rock, skipping over a lake...but I'd never do that!  Just saying that in relation to...and also...because.  Um.  In case you were thinking I...  Agh!"

Somnia stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath and filling her lungs as best she could, her white longcoat rising largely and proud.  She exhaled, sighing out enough annoyance at herself to blow out at least 100 candles.  Raising a single finger and wagging it slightly, Somnia continued to support Myrnal further into the onsen while throwing the peculiar hole-ridden coinage of the native people into a straw basket.  It was obviously a successful night, as the rattle of change was quite solid.

"Miss Myrnal.  M-Myrnal.  I might come off as a b-bit awkward to you, but I just want to let you know I...I...I have...I'm fine.  I had a nice nap today.  Sure is nice weather, good Orc hunting weather, aha...ha..." Somnia meekly toned down her voice from an almost spine-having conversation to a meek whisper, humbled once again by having the warmth of a perfect stranger on her shoulders.  Naked indeed, Somnia would have no idea if she kept her back turned.  Hopefully her voice would carry.  Her heart was beating as if it wanted between the ribs, Somnia's hand unconsciously touching the nape of her neck as she looked down, breathing as if she just finished a brisk jog. 

...Oh...what was I thinking.  She probably thinks I'm some sort of mad woman.  Maybe I can still turn around....

Lead by example, for actions always speak louder than words.

The Drow’s eyes fought to adjust themselves in the flickering lantern light, a feat that would have given his brothers a headache if it was their first trip to the surface. Fortunately for B’esctra however he had lived away from the Underdark for almost a century now and so what could have proved troubling to some, was naught but a passing irritation to him.

Watching closely, the assassin saw Minshara’s disdain creeping across her face and so was not surprised in the least at her sudden outburst, which enabled him to 'ride it out', like a fisherman would a storm. Her tongue stumbled like a child with each and every syllable when she spoke, but he did not care because it was her determination that intrigued him, her unrelenting desire to never admit defeat that kept him from ripping her throat out.

Eventually the words formed more clearly and B’esctra could understand what she was saying but the message however, was not the one he had been waiting for. Apparently, Minshara’s frustrations had gotten the better of her and she could no longer stand the tortured creatures presence, which was a shame really, as there was so much more he could have taught her.

Blurting out a quip, that might haven taken her a while to translate, he pinched the candle inside the lantern as he passed and plunged the room into darkness once more, because if Minshara didn’t need his protection, then she certainly didn’t need the comfort of the light either. 

“ Ussta velve zhah naut l' uss ulu eszak bauth”, a sentence that came more smoothly than his Nijionese, though this too was devoid of emotion, almost as if he were a machine reciting text, rather than someone speaking it. When Minshara was able to discern its meaning however, it would roughly translate into “ My blade, is not the one to worry about”, signifying that B’esctra still did not think the little princess was truly safe, even in the lands that she called ‘home’.

Slipping stealthily down the corridor beyond Minshara’s room, the Drow nudged his own door open and locked it firmly behind him. Let the others relax he thought, let them lower their guard and grow soft. There shall be no rest for me though, no rest for the ‘wicked’. 

The assassin himself, was as callous as could be, but he thought the term was a fitting one, given what the Mind-Flayers had turned him into and so instead of sleeping, he would train, train until his limbs ached and his skills sharpened, train until there was none that could stand before the precision of his blades.

In the Underdark, there was little room for mistakes and the more he learned of Nijion from Minshara’s memories, the more he wondered how ‘friendly’ these people really were.