Elentari was a nation trying desperately to sort out its own domestic politics despite forces for disunity on all sides. Ethnic tensions, disputes over resources and alliances, all these were contributing to a situation in which the government was left to solve pressing political problems before it could really apply itself anywhere else.

While the eyes of other nations rested on Elentari's government in the hopes of a solution, preferably one amenable to their own concerns, certain opportunistic independent groups were finding new room to pursue agendas that could never be accomplished if the eye of the government were watching carefully.

Fortunately, official political bodies were not the only ones with an interest in the activities of Elentari's shadier residents and visitors. For it was visitors who were the problem this time, and Ignes Libertatis had taken notice.

Through Westwood and some surrounding areas, notices had been posted in temples to Faelyn and even the odd pub. The philanthropic order of Ignes Libertatis is disturbed to report that on the borders of Westwood near the mountains, a group of dark elves is suspected to be 'acquiring' and retaining prisoners from the surface. It is unclear at this point whether they are being kept as slaves or for some other purpose. Unsubstantiated rumors point to a disproportionate number of lycanthropes among the missing. If the latter rumor proves to be true, it points to some specific agenda that, quite frankly, can't be good.

In light of this information, Ignes Libertatis requests that readers send their prayers and seek out an Ignes Libertatis representative for more information as it arises. A representative will be meeting interested parties at a well-travelled crossroads in Westwood at dusk in one week.

The appointed night approaches. Will anyone take interest?

   Saro walked along the path as quickly as his small body would allow him to. This simply meant that he was walking only as fast as most other humans did when not in a hurry. He, of course, was not entirely sure that he was even human, no matter how much he looked like one. He kept to himself, not wanting to attract any attention. Luckily, it seemed that most of the people in this area of the woods felt the same way.

   As he walked, he felt his body letting him know that it needed nourishment of some kind. Saro couldn’t quite explain the feeling that it gave him, but he just knew that his body was “hungry”, if that is what it could be called. It was something close to a tingling sensation in the lower right part of his head. He didn’t understand why this instinctively told him that his body was in need of more energy. He just knew.

   Looking around, Saro spied an apple tree several yards away, sitting off the road. He glanced around himself to see if there was anyone who would take notice of him leaving the path. Once he was sure that no one would follow him, out of curiosity, or for any other reason, he silently slipped off the trail and headed towards the tree.

   Saro searched around the tree, hoping to find easy access to the apples. He was delighted to see that, indeed, several of them had fallen off the tree onto the ground. They were partially rotten, and seemed to have been sitting on the ground for several days, probably more. Most people would probably not be able to stomach the taste of them, but Saro was a bit different.

   For as much as he would have liked to taste even these rotten apples, he would not; could not. Kneeling down, Saro removed his glove and reached for the apple. Normally, what he touched would simply melt away to nothing, but when his body needed sustenance, and found it, it seemed to change, however briefly. Perhaps to those around him, the apple would seem to simply melt away. Instead, however, it was absorbed into his body, and he could feel the apple being ripped into its basic make up, and the nutrients and other substances being sent to whichever part of his body needed them.

   Saro did this with several of the rotting apples around him. As he finished, he replaced the glove on his hand, and stood back up, his body satisfied for now. Turning around, he headed back onto the path that would lead to the crossroads he had been told about several weeks ago.

   Several hours later, he came to the crossroads, and waited in the designated area. He watched as those on the road continued on their way, either taking no notice of him, or simply ignoring him. Saro looked around, wondering how many others would be here, and what reasons they had to help with this.

   He, of course, had his own, possibly selfish reasons for being here. If what the notice had said was true, that the Drow were experimenting on Lycanthropes, then there would possibly be some information available that would lead him to some of the answers he sought. Saro wasn’t sure what type of experiments were being performed, or even if any of the information he found would be of any use to him at all, but for now, he had no other ways of finding anything useful.

   There was something more to his offer of assistance in this matter, however. Saro knew what it was like to have no control over some aspect of their life. In the lycanthropes’ case, as well as in Saro’s, it was an aspect that changed who and what they were, at the very core of their existence. He felt a connection with them, in some small way. A part of Saro simply wanted to offer what help he could to those individuals who were thrust into this position.

   As he waited, Saro wondered which part of his reasons for helping would win out in the end.

Two others had arrived since Thomas and Ivana had halted at the crossroads. Several people had given them curious looks and then gone out of their way to avoid the two. This was probably due to the fact that A, Thomas looked as if he was expecting trouble and B, they were both armed and standing in the middle of a crossroads which was sometimes frequented by merchants, who were often paranoid - rightly so if they were traveling through Westwood - about security. Still, at least none of them had sicked their guards onto them. Yet.

When a short, frail looking man turned up, Thomas didn't pay much attention to him until a while later when Ivana pointed out that he had been standing there for a while, watching everything. That could mean one of three things. First, he could have been merely resting while his body recovered from the long journey he had probably just made. Secondly, there was the chance that he was the scout for a group of bandits. After all, who would pick such a weak looking man as a scout for a group of bandits? Finally, he could be one of the members of Inges Liberatsis who Thomas was going to meet with. Considering the fact that this was the meeting point and that the man had stayed there for a reasonable amount of time, Thomas decided that he was the third.

After another short period of time, Thomas saw another person walk up to one side of the crossroads and stay there. Ivana tensed up and Thomas mentally sighed. Ivana was rather protective of him. May protective was the wrong word. Possessive was probably a better fit. When they had been outfitting themselves after Thomas had helped get Ivana out of prison, Thomas had been immediately over ruled on what armour he was going to wear and whehter or not he was going to need a bow. Ivana said no and that was the end of it, despite Thomas' protestations to the contrary. Shifting the weight of his armour slightly, Thomas realised that he was more than just slightly uncomfortable in this armour, he was felt downright weird in it. It had been five years since he had left the YAF and in that time he had forgotten what it felt like to wear armour. Still, Ivana did have a point. He needed some extra protection nowadays.

Looking around, Thomas wondered how long it would be before the representative came along, because right now his brain was telling him that he had been in one place for too long.

   Saro waited patiently on the side of the road, his hands folded in front of him, the hood of his cloak hiding his face. He briefly wondered just how long they would have to wait, but decided it would be better if he were not in a hurry. Where else did he have to go, anyway? This had been his only possible source of information so far.

   He turned his head, looking around carefully. Most people went on their way, but now, there were several people standing, and waiting. A man in armor, his hand upon the hilt of his sword, stood some distance away. He was close enough, however, that Saro thought that perhaps he was one of the group he was to assist. He wasn’t sure that he would have seen the man, had he not been looking for anyone remaining in one place. With him stood a rather tall woman, who would tower over Saro were he standing near her. It seemed as if both of them were expecting an attack from any and all sides.

   Saro briefly wondered if it was the possibility of pain and death that caused such fear or tenseness. If so, why did he not feel that fear? He was still able to feel pain. As he had seen, however, his injuries were not the same as those around him. He had been stabbed, attacked by animals, fallen from a mountain, and still, he walked. These people could die. He could not, as far as he knew. It was not something he was proud of, nor would he boast about it. It was nothing but a source of confusion for him. It was part of the very reason he was here.

   Another woman stood closer to him, waiting as well.  She was much smaller in comparison to the man’s partner, but still taller than Saro was. Her face was covered by a mask. She was at ease with her surroundings; the stress apparent on the other two was nowhere to be seen in her movements. Was she, too, one of those who would be part of this group? If not for his own trepidation at speaking to those around him, perhaps he would have approached her in hopes of finding out why she hid herself from the world, just as he did.

   Before he could decide one way or the other on this matter, however, his attention turned towards the street. Coming down the road, through the darkening path, was another person. The man walked directly towards them, his eyes watching each of them in turn. As he came closer, Saro noticed that the man carried a bow and arrow at his side, but not cocked. The man removed his hood from his face.

   “Drow" was the first word that came to his mind. The white hair and the darkened skin was the obvious give away. They were the ones supposedly taking the lycanthropes, and performing unknown experiments upon them. He could not, or would not, however, make any judgments about this man until his intentions became clearer.

   Saro himself had come across several different types of humans in his time after leaving the Wastes. Some were treacherous, some hopeful, some good, some bad. Just as he could not lump all humans into one category, so it was with the Drow, as well. He stood and waited to see what would transpire.

They had been standing at the crossroads for some time, long enough for the silence hanging over them to stretch out and become just slightly uncomfortable, when a newcomer appeared.

Ode watched him carefully as he approached. He was a drow, and that was somewhat suspicious, yes, moreso given the situation they were planning to investigate. But it seemed unlikely that someone attempting to attack or ambush them would take the trouble to approach so openly, and to appear so nonthreatening-- though he carried a bow, it was unstrung, and the arrow only loosely held in his other hand. Prepared for trouble, but so were they. And since it had become clear that none of those waiting at the crossroads was who they were meant to meet, it seemed quite possible that this, then, was the representative.

She was just about to greet the stranger and ask if he was, in fact, here to meet them, when the man and woman beside her sprang into action, sliding into a defensive stance, weapons drawn. The maneuver took no time at all, and once settled the man spoke out. "Who are you," he called, "and why do you approach armed and threateningly?"

Then Ode had to say something.

"Threateningly?" she asked, stepping forward a little. "Approaching openly, with an unstrung bow? Hardly threatening, sai. Are you not the one who better fits such a description?" Turning to face Elhadron, she continued, "I would wager this is our representative. Am I correct?"

   Saro watched as the drow approached, wondering what he would have to say, or do. A commotion nearby caught his attention, and he watched as the man and woman, whom had already seemed ready to attack, jumped into position to attack the Drow. They moved very quickly, and had probably utilized it many times.

   He turned quickly back to the drow, thinking that perhaps the man and woman knew the man. Saro wondered if the drow was sent to talk them out of, or forcefully dissuade, the group from following through on their plans. Looking at his glove, he wondered if he would be expected to offer his assistance in stopping the drow. As he wondered this, an odd, almost painful sensation entered his stomach. Those who knew the name would call it nervousness, perhaps bordering on fear.

   "Who are you, and why do you approach armed and threateningly?" came the voice of the man who stood in front of the towering woman.

   "Threateningly?" Saro thought to himself, almost at the same time as the other, smaller woman said it aloud. There was very little that seemed threatening about the man. Saro realized now that it had been only fear that caused the man and woman to react. He was a bit confused by this, but listened as the drow began to speak.

   As he looked at each of them in turn, and bowed, Saro wondered what purpose the bow served. The dark elf proceeded to introduce himself to each of them. As Elhadron finished, he added one last line with a bit of a smirk on his face. The smirk, the bow, the aggressiveness, and the questions: it all began to make Saro feel as though he didn’t quite belong. He didn’t understand the way that the others were acting, or why they did those things. It all reminded him of the fact that he was so different from all of them, and in more ways than just physically.

   Saro took a step back, and for a moment, he considered simply walking away from the group. It would be much easier to do that than it would be to deal with the uneasiness that being part of the group was causing him. Shaking his head, and gritting his teeth, he realized that this was his only possible source of information at the moment.

   Unsure of when he should speak up, not realizing that he was perhaps cutting someone else off, he said simply, “I am Saro.” He almost considered bowing in the same way that Elhadron had, but felt to uncomfortable to do so.

The man turned towards her, his face held in such a way that anyone could have seen the scars there, and then proceeded to berate her about security while trotting out his own credentials. Ode very nearly rolled her eyes.

Well. This will be an interesting venture. At least the others seem more reasonable, or at least quieter... they're not lecturing me on the minutiae of Common grammar, anyway. Tch. One word that's not quite right and he assumes I'm an idiot. Combat terminology is so complex, too...

With a slight sigh, she returned her attention to the young man. "If he or anyone else had wanted to shoot us," she remarked, quietly but firmly, "they would have stayed in the bushes and done so. As it was, he approached openly. It is not wise to be incautious, but being paranoid is equally unhelpful. Be wary, but assess the situation before jumping to conclusions."

The dark elf introduced himself, and the man--Thomas--immediately did the same. Ode frowned at that-- was everything to be a competition with him?-- but smirked just a little when it became apparent that the two were already acquainted. She waited while the others finished speaking before giving a slight bow in return.

"Greetings, Elhadron. I am Ode Sparrowmoon."

Thomas nodded back at Elhadron when asked about Ivana and he knew that Ivana would be nodding a very haughty affirmative. Mental he was starting to feel slightly exasperated. Ivana was barely talking to anyone, even him these days, and Thomas felt something that he had never felt before when he realised that he still had to tell Ivana that he had to leave her. Was it fear, the thing that gripped even the most experience of soldiers as they prepared for battle. Why would he be afraid to tell Ivana what he had to? Because you know how much it will hurt her. You know that she will feel used and then she will feel angry and come after you. Thomas sighed, mentally of course, and sat down on a nearby log to take the pressure off his legs. He was still recovering from the blood loss and multiple wounds that he had suffered over the last few weeks.

Thomas felt Ivana settled down beside him and radiate her disapproval at his having sat first. Thomas realised that he was going to have to become what Ivana considered "the perfect male" before he broke the news to her. Perhaps she would then understand that Thomas was leaving for her, not because of her. It would lessen the pain, if only slightly, to know that.

When Elhadron spoke, Thomas decided to say nothing. So far he hadn't made a good impression on anyone, and if he said no and someone turned up, then Thomas would be at an even lower standing with them, something that he didn't want. If there was ever a fight, Thomas wanted them to respect him enough to let him and Ivana handle it. Perhaps it would be better to let Ivana tell them what to do. After all, anyone who had seen her angry wouldn't want her to get rilled up.