A bard in time saves...

[Lanya Caliope]

Her eyelids fluttered as she dreamed, though only the normal tension gripped her as images flashed through her head. Lanya was not a heavy sleeper but once within the grip of a dream she had never been able to wake herself up.

The heavy slam of the table hitting the wall managed to pop the bard's eyes open in confusion. Kona's snuffling and barking at the door brought her up into a sitting position, and she stared at him. Another moment and she was up and off the bed, pressed against the door and listening. Her eyes widened at Idonir's words and Metarie's defense. Fear prickled along her flesh and instinctively she began to fumble with the locks of the door to let the large hound outside to defend his master.

A hawk's shrill cry greeted this fumbling, and Flame began the annoying and steady business of fluttering about her head, making her raise her hands instead to fend him off.

"I have to help her!"

The hawk's cry came again as the bird continued his frenzied path. Adrenaline coursed through the woman as she backed away from the door and began searching the items around the room instead. Kona continued barking, but Lanya remembered the elf's orders: to stay put regardless of what she heard. Flame's distraction had given her the time necessary to consider her actions. Rushing outside in nothing but strained clothing would only leave her open to any attack the man might provide. She looked to the side of the bed where Greenfyre lay, the perfect weapon...and hated herself for even considering the thought.

But she couldn't possibly do nothing. She could hear Metarie and Idonir's footsteps. If she left the healer alone outside this room, Idonir could hurt or even kill her, which would leave Lanya alone with only a trap door...

She rushed to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. A rich chocolate brown cloak hung within, and she removed this from the hanger and flung it around herself, then removed a pair of boots as well. They were tight around her calves and feet but they were at least serviceable.

The bard couldn't help Metarie in an immediate way, and the decision to leave grated at her sensibilities, but the woman needed aid of some kind. If the man from before was the captain of the guard, she would find him and set this right, assassin be damned. As she pulled open the trapdoor, Kona rushed forward, shuffling through the opening to follow the path outside. Lanya followed the dog's path with Flame clinging to the back of her robe, glaring at the door until they were out of sight.

The wardrobe slid into place behind her as she crawled through the tunnel, her sides and knees scraping against the narrow walls. It wasn't so narrow that she couldn't move quickly, but it was disorienting to move within such a confined space. She focused on her goal rather than the walls around her, and within moments stood free of the house in the backyard.

The sense of freedom gave her a moment's pause, but the adrenaline rush did not allow her to enjoy it. She stretched her legs and made for the gate in the fence, popping the latch and removing herself from the property.

Once on the street, she felt a moment's hesitation. She wasn't sure how exactly to find the captain...but surely there would be a guardhouse somewhere. She would just need to pray the man was there, or this expedition would prove pointless.

Determined and shaking with energy, she stepped fully into the street and began a brisk walk, nearly a trot. She didn't know the city, but passers-by would. The moment she saw one, she waved Flame away into the air. Nothing could be done for the large dog at her side.

Her experiences weighed heavily at her as she approached the stranger, and by the time she reached him she had affected an accent much like the local tongue, mimicking how both the captain and Metarie spoke.

"Pardon me. Could you show me the direction to the guardhouse?"

A suspicious glance flit from herself to the large dog at her side, but an answer came moments later. Armed with directions, the woman began her steady trek towards the guard's headquarters, praying with each step that the captain would be present.

[City Guard]

Idonir stormed after her, making a failed grab for her hair before she was out of the room. He didn't expect her to run away so quickly instead of standing her ground the way she was doing before. Women, indeed people in general, were usually to startled to immediately make a dash for it when he first started a fight.

She was out of the kitchen in an instant, with him lumbering after her. He was right behind her, grabbing the edge of the door frame when she passed out of the kitchen. The front door was the only potential delay to her quick escape. Outside she could outdistance him, but inside there was nowhere to go.

His drunken anger and desire to violate the elf fueled his muscles but not his brain. His strategy was a simple one: try and grab her before she got out the door. Idonir's head was not on straight. Attacking Metarie in her own home, while on assignment, was a decision as brazen as they come. He was already in head over heels, guaranteed to face some severe punishment later, and as such there was no reason to hold back any more.

He lunged at her in the direction of the front door in an attempt to both grab her by her arms and stop her from having enough room to get the door open.

[Metarie]

One, two, three steps…there were twenty steps from the kitchen to the front door; a mere twenty steps to freedom and safety. Behind her, there was the clatter of the table being plowed through. Metarie could feel the breeze as his fingers closed on the empty space she had just occupied. She could hear the sound of his hand as it grabbed hard upon the doorframe. She could hear the sound of his steps heavy and close behind her; close enough that she might have only three seconds between unlocking the door and his getting hold of her; maybe even less. His legs were just a bit longer than hers.

She was scared. Adrenaline had jumped and now coursed through her making her feel cold, tingly, and hot all at the same time. Her heart was beating quickly. Twenty steps from the kitchen to the front door. She had to get outside.

Metarie’s fingers brushed the door handle just as she heard Idonir lunge and his fingers grazed her arms. Metarie twisted and moved to duck under his extended arms, making for the livingroom leaving Idonir to finish his lunge against the door or follow her, maybe even both. Hopefully the move would be unexpected and give her enough time to get away into the livingroom. Hopefully his touch on her arms wasn't enough to actually hold her.

[Lanya Caliope]

It was only three minutes before the woman began cursing local familiarity and distance slang. "Just down the road" meant such different distances to the native people. Their own knowledge of layout and acceptance of the time needed to arrive at a destination made it impossible to judge the actual distance to the guardhouse.

So far, she knew that the guardhouse was not right down the road. It was, in fact, a ways down the road. And every moment she spent trotting towards it was a moment longer Metarie was abandoned to her fate.

By the time she hit Main street and turned to follow the larger avenue, her knee was warmed up and flexible enough to only cause a light twinge. She broke into a fast jog, Kona loping alongside her. Although she wanted to run faster, bodily comfort demanded that she maintain a steady pace rather than move with full speed down the road.

She missed her own clothes.

"Can't miss it," the pedestrian had said. "It's big and stone and taller'n the other buildings near it. And there'll be guards outside."

The last bit had been vaguely rude, but the woman didn't care. Large, stone, and tall. If guards were in fact outside more the better.

But as time passed and she grew ever closer, she realized that she would need to gamble that the men she was about to meet were honorable, unlike Idonir. The very man the captain had sent to Metarie's home to serve as a protector now served as a threat.

The building was in view now, and she slowed to her trot once more, favoring her sore right knee. Now within twenty feet and she began thinking of what to say. The guards in front watched her approach in silence, and she affected the local accent once more as she came within only a few feet. She wasn't certain they could possibly recognize her as the red-haired women from a few days ago, but she didn't know how to lie skillfully enough to let them know what was needed. She decided on the truth; the captain had said to trust his men, and she would do so in the hopes that his judgment was sounder with these than it had been with Idonir.

"I have urgent news for the captain, Camulous. He gave a woman over into the care of one of your city's healers, and I must speak to him regarding this matter."

She watched them, letting some of her fear and desperation shine through in her face.

"Please."

[City Guard]

Idonir was not at his quickest or his brightest anymore. He had the reflexes of a fighter, but after several glasses of ale he was overconfident and clumsy. The way he hurled himself at her was designed to stop her from opening the door at all costs, so when she moved in a different direction, he couldn't exactly stop himself from hitting said door.

One of his hands slid down her arm as he barreled past. Fingers grasping in search of a spot to grip found nothing but plain leather and a dainty elven hand that was out of reach before he could squeeze properly. His other hand missed completely, and was more concerned with buffering his inevitable impact with the door.

The guardsman pivoted to face her and slammed his left foot down hard to slow himself down, but still became intimately acquainted with the door, arm-and-shoulder first with a loud thud. It put a great deal of strain on the hinges and lock without hurting Idonir at all. He was satisfied to have kept her inside and, apparently, cornered in a room.

He positioned himself in the entrance to the living room and grinned at her, breathing heavily.

"Tricky one ain't ya."

He made his approach a little more cautiously now, trying to back her up into a corner and ready to get in her way if she made a bolt back for the front exit.

* * *

"I told you, humans were not meant to invent mechanics." Lurus said, giving his human friend the best smug look of superiority his elven features would allow.

Hapnir replied, not looking the least bit phased by the attempted antagonism "I don't see elves making any better. Maybe you think it would've exploded less violently if it was made out of silk and balsam..."

Hapnir stopped, interrupted by Lurus' gaze over his shoulder and suddenly diverted attention. He twisted and saw what it was - a woman and a large dog hurrying down the dirt road towards them, clearly trying to get to the guardhouse. He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword but kept it sheathed. Lurus left his hands loosely at his sides. The elf was fast enough to react to anything, and relied on more senses to study the woman while the human let him do the thinking.

I have urgent news for the captain, Camulous. He gave a woman over into the care of one of your city's healers, and I must speak to him regarding this matter.

She was obviously frantic, but might as well have been crazy street rabble for what she was asking. Lurus' expression didn't change, and Hapnir waited for Lanya to stop before looking at his friend, keeping Lanya in the corner of his vision.

"Camulous is very busy." Lurus said to her in a soft voice that nonetheless carried a thick air of condescension. Neither of them recognized her.

[Metarie]

Ducking under Idonir’s grasp, Metarie felt his hand slide down her arm and jerked her arm away; barely avoiding a crushing grip on her fingers.

Metarie was well-acquainted with her home. Her library was to the left of the livingroom entrance – a sturdy desk, bookshelves full of books, as well as beautifully crafted items. There was a vase, obviously elvish in design, in which fresh flowers had been placed. There was a watercolor of Kona in repose among the plants, herbs, and flowers in her backgarden carefully framed. The bookshelves continued along the back wall buttressing the large fireplace.

The couch was to the right of the livingroom entrance, bordered by two end tables. On each table sat a lightly scented candle placed within delicately carved candle trays. Above the couch, eletric lights articially crafted sat flush with the wall.

The room was one long room, running the length of the hall and then some. The kitchen ended the room; the kitchen where the chase had started. Metarie’s gaze quickly assessed the room and options - get trapped in the hall or trapped in the larger room that is the study, livingroom, and kitchen. If she went out the kitchen and he followed, she could dart back to the front door, but that meant getting him back down to the kitchen.

Heavy steps announced his taking the door of the livingroom. “Tricky one ain’t ya.” Like a man trying to herd a cat, his steps slowed and became deliberate.

“Years in the guard taught me a few things,” she replied as her eyes settled on a new course of action: a stand-off. Metarie launched herself towards the mantel aware just how close the man was. The room was not wide, but long. Metarie reached for an arrow and her bow, both proudly displayed upon the mantel and used regularly in practice.

“Like, shoot first and ask questions, later!” The timing was crucial. Get the bow and arrow notched, turned, and stand up to Idonir. From there... ideas were still formulating.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kona in response to the elf's comment barked once - loudly. The tags upon his collar jingled. Kona was an unusually large dog compared to the usual breed. Anyone who knew Metarie even in passing, knew the dog. The guards did not respond, but Kona did. He sniffed the air, barked again, then whined. He had been given a command to protect the woman at his side, but his person was in trouble.

"Oowwowwwuuuuf," Kona barked and whined again.

[Lanya Caliope]

Despite the clear condescension in the guard's voice, his gentle tone was reassuring. He hadn't dismissed her entirely, he was only trying to reason with the random citizen attempting to speak with his superior.

Lanya reached out to place a hand on Kona's head while she considered her options. She could try arguing with these men, insisting that she needed to see the captain immediately. She could try making herself seem official and appealing to their sense of duty.

But she'd never mastered the art of pure deceit. The captain had said to trust the guard; she could either trust his judgement and therefore trust these men, or she could try to deceive them somehow.

In the end, it was time which decided her. Every moment she stood pondering how to make these men listen to her was another moment Metarie could be raped or killed. Out of options and desperate to help her friend, she decided to be brutally honest and pray that everything worked out.

She focused her attention on the elf who'd addressed her. Although distressed, her face was carefully blank - she gave no outward sign of her desperation or urgency. Her voice came out clear and calm, and her hazel eyes hardened as she spoke.

"Metarie Sehkhara is being attacked in her home as we speak, by the man your captain sent to help her protect me. If he is too busy to help, then fetch me someone who isn't."

Kona's mournful whining drew her eyes down as she scratched his head, leaving her hand in place to try and comfort him. If these men wouldn't help, she was at a loss; she would just need to return and try her damndest to help herself. It would've been a wasted effort...but she had at least tried.

[City Guard]

Idonir's gaze followed Metarie's when she first looked at the bow and arrow. Tipsy as he was, a weapon was a weapon. He didn't wait for her to get her last sentence out, he knew what she was going to do. He wasn't sure how much good a bow and arrow would really be indoors, but it was her best bet and if he gave her leeway she could kill him with it for sure.

"Oh no ya don't."

He had to get to her fast, but his size was now a disadvantage. He didn't have enough room to run properly without bouncing off of things. Which he of course did, although it slowed him down. He had to run past the library table to get to her, and it was not such an easy toss as the one in the kitchen had been. He ran between it and the wall, shoulder causing more scratches on the one side, hand shoving the table away as much as he could on the other.

The vase went toppling over when he lumbered past, as did the painting of Kona off the wall. Idonir grunted with the strain but was determined to get to her. When the table was past him he lunged again, this time with only the intent to plow into Metarie on his mind. With his head lowered and his shoulder first he came at her yelling.

* * *

Hapnir and Lurus exchanged glances following the explanation. Though Lanya was not familiar, the dog was vaguely so.

"I know of Sehkhara. She is a descendant." Said Lurus, referring to Metarie's heritage in Marn as a direct descendant of the first settlers; more than just another synevive. Hapnir believed him, ever wondering how elves could know all their last names and origins down a dozen generations, while the humans couldn't tell a Moryldar from a Merinyr. Lurus could probably trace her roots right back to their creation myths if he was given enough time.

"And Idonir went that way." Hapnir added quietly. The words did not need saying. They'd both seen Idonir leaving shortly after Camulous' arrival, still wearing his armor after the end of his shift, in the opposite direction of his home. It was an assignment of some kind, and fit in perfectly with what Lanya was saying. Idonir was just the kind of man to cause this sort of trouble.

The other guardsman's smooth voice said "Mmm" in agreement.

Lurus did not look forward to a confrontation with Idonir. The man was a monster in hand to hand and likewise overpowering with a sword. Hapnir did not want to go either, but they both knew he was better suited for the job, and so he offered with a roll of his eyes.

"Right. Send someone, and ask the Cap if he knows what she's talking about."

Lurus gave a curt nod, said "I shall," and strode swiftly into the guardhouse. Hapnir turned to face Lanya and removed his hand from his sword hilt to motion for her to lead the way. He looked a little incensed, though it was not her fault that Idonir was acting up.

He would keep up with whatever pace she led him at.

[Metarie]

She was speaking even as she moved toward the mantel. Her fingers closed on an arrow, plucking it from the quiver, and her bow. An arrow was notched and she began to pull back the bowstring. Finally! Something to help level the disadvantage if only a little… Somewhere inside she felt squeamish about shooting a man in the head. She was a healer, not a fighter, even if she had been trained for it.

Idonir sounded like a juggernaut behind her, but she didn’t have time to think about such things. A vase fell and crashed to the floor. A picture frame thunked and glass cracked. Idonir bellowed.

Metarie used one foot to push off from the hearth and pivoted on the other as she landed so she could face the man. She turned, in a beautiful spin, ready to demand he stand down. The instinct for self-preservation, it seemed, was higher, but did not kick in soon enough. The half-second of hesitation to go against her inclination to heal instead of harm lost her the minor head start she had.

Idonir hit her hard.

Metarie was slight and Idonir was a behemoth. An armored shoulder hit her in the stomach, knocking the wind from her. Water filled her eyes as she gasped for breath. The arrow was loosed; ineffectually hitting and sticking within the ceiling a few feet behind them before falling to clatter on the floor. The bow slid down Idonir’s back with a scrape before rattling as it hit the floor. Metarie struggled to hang on to Idonir as they did a free-fall to the bare, wooden floor. Metarie wrapped her arms around his head and neck, clinging tightly.

The second hit to the floor knocked out her breath again. She could taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. She had bit her tongue when her head had bounced against the floor. As they slid a few feet, Metarie fought to keep her wits. Taking a breath was painful. Not just because of where Idonir had hit her, but because the weight of him cracked a rib when they hit the floor.

Sucking in shallow breaths, Metarie’s fingers dug into the leather bracers she wore and pulled out the syringe. Her thumb popped off the safety. Metarie jabbed the needle into Idonir’s neck and depressed the plunger. She hoped the sedative would work before he progressed too far. Ten, she counted in her head. Nine, eight, seven… by the time she got to one he should be passed out.

“Stop!” Metarie wheezed out an order. He might have wanted her to, but she just wasn’t going to beg. She didn’t bother to pull out the syringe. She just let it go and began digging the fingers of her right hand, her bow hand, in Idonir’s hair and pulled, while she used the other hand to box his right ear. Metarie was no hand-to-hand fighter, but she had some strength in her arms as an archer. Her attempt was probably clumsy, but it was the best she could do. Five... four... three… two…

[Lanya Caliope]

The pace was the same speedy trot she'd managed on the way towards the guardhouse. Now on their way back to the house, Kona loped ahead, guiding both woman and guard to their destination.

Lanya tried to ignore the pulsing in her feet as the tight leather grated against her skin. Metarie's feet were slimmer, and so the boots were tailored to a smaller shape, but she gritted her teeth and moved past the pain.

If the guard was expecting conversation, he would be sorely disappointed. Lanya had her mission set out before her; she was determined to carry it out to completion. The only question she had of the guard would be to inquire about the status of Lucian...but she suspected that only Camulous would be aware of what that status might be, and held her tongue.

As they paced, she again considered everything that had been done in her name. The fight in the streets; the months of terror; a dangerous assassin now a battlemage of the city; and the lives now deceased. All revolving around saving one person's life. The dream came to her again - the sense of responsibility heavy on her shoulders - and for an agonizing moment she wondered what the lives taken in her name would have been like if they'd never been taken at all.

She decided, jogging in the streets behind a large dog intent on saving his master, to end this entire charade. She first needed to complete this mission to save Metarie's virtue or life, perhaps both. Then she could leave once more. Vanish into the streets, ask where she might find Judge Moryldar, and hand herself over. The final end to this idiocy and pain on her behalf.

An image of Metarie's broken corpse came to her, and she sped the pace until finally they stood on the street where the house sat, and Kona raced forward to meet them at the front door. Seeing the house promoted another burst of adrenaline, though the bard kept her pace solid. Her knee was starting to ache again. Just before the house, she slowed down to a stop, panting lightly. She was tempted to say "This is the spot," but it was already obvious due to Kona scratching and whining at the door. Her chest tightened as she saw that the door had been severely damaged, hit hard enough from the inside to crack it outward against its own frame. She felt almost dizzy as she realized she couldn't hear anything within. A few moments later Kona managed to shove his way through, barking angrily at whatever sight he found within.

Fear and worry made her ache to rush behind him, but she'd gotten the guard for a reason.

"Please, go ahead - you have the weapons."

To make sure the guard didn't suspect her of trying to help where she knew she couldn't, she stepped aside to allow him to enter first.

[City Guard]

Something stuck into the side of Idonir's neck as he lay on top of the elf, searching for a way to get out of the neck hold and hold her down. Whatever it was didn't hurt or draw enough blood for him to care. He noticed it, and flinched for a half-second, but was not the type to be concerned by anything that wouldn't kill him immediately. Not in the mental state he was in.

The impact with the floor didn't knock her out as he'd hoped. As fun as it was, he wanted to get her to let go of him and get his face out of her chest. He was a good brawler, but he relied on his size and strength to do the work. Her hands were busy around his head, which exposed her sides nicely, so he rocked to the left and drove his fist into the soft area just above her hips on the right side. Idonir was not taking it easy just because she was a woman. He wanted her knocked out, and grunted with the effort he put into the swing.

With his punch to buy some time, he grabbed her wrists and pried her hands away from his hair and neck, not bothered by the ripping of his own hair at all. He pushed her wrists to the floor and straddled her, ready to hit her again and finish the deed, when a wave of dizzyness took him over.

The man growled, frustrated that something was getting in the way of his plans, and shook his head to clear away the cloudiness. When it didn't clear, he started thinking that perhaps it wasn't the booze affecting him.

"Uughh..."

That thing she stuck in his neck. It had some kind of elf poison on it. No elf poison was going to take him out.

"That won't work..." He slurred at her, but took one of his hands off her wrist in favor of slapping it onto the floor to hold himself up.

His eyes began to lose focus and droop, but that did nothing about his size and weight, which he kept on top of her. He took the hand off the floor and reached for the collar of her leather armor, as if to try and pry it off, but such a move would never get him anywhere even if he wasn't horribly drugged.

"Mmmhh..."

He slumped on top of her and passed out completely with his shoulder in her face before he could do anything else.

* * *

Hapnir didn't expect conversation. He was a nice guy, or at least much nicer than Idonir and more talkative than Camulous, but the situation didn't facilitate idle banter.

They eventually reached the house and he had to take a deep breath to prepare himself mentally for fighting someone like Idonir. He wouldn't kill Idonir, and Idonir wouldn't kill him. There was no circumstance that would justify such an act. Even if what Idonir was doing warranted execution, Hapnir was not the one to carry it out.

No, what worried Hapnir was that either Idnoir was going to beat him up badly, that Idonir was not being himself and was under some kind of spell, or that this whole thing was a trap. All options were going to result in some pain.

The dog got inside and Lanya invited him to go ahead. With some hesitance, he drew his sword and stepped inside, listening for the dog and anyone else inside.

[Metarie]

One…

Idonir didn’t pass out as expected. She felt panic starting to rise. He was going to succeed. He was going to succeed! NO! Metarie quelled the panic, she had to think. What could she do next? Her hands and arms were still free… the iron poker!

All thought was lost as Idonir rolled his weight on the left side of her body, crushing her left leg painfully under his thigh. A nasty punch drove into her right side. Metarie was fit and toned, but Idonir was ham-fisted and strong. A large, fist shaped bruise would certainly form. Metarie also had a least two cracked ribs. Tears welled in her eyes and fell down her cheeks as her face made a mask of pain – eyes closed, head back, teeth bared, distorted features.

Stars and tunnel-vision filled her view. But that blessed feeling of passing out, being removed from the pain, was denied by her stubbornness and by the sharp tug upward of her arms. Idonir shoved them down to the floor. This move pulled on her ribs and stretched her torso. Metarie’s eyes opened. Tears of pain glittered within them. Her mouth moved. Nothing came out. Her mouth moved again.

“Stop!” Metarie commanded again, but unfortunately it came out more as “St-ah!”

Idonir was straddling her, his weight heavy across her hips. He was leaning across her, using both hands to hold hers when finally the sedative took hold. Idonir shook his head, but that just made the grogginess all that more pronounced.

”Tha’ won’t work…

Yes, it will, she thought. It has to… although he let go of her hands to brace himself, his other hand still remained on her wrists. The size of one hand still easily engulfed and held her narrow wrists down. Thank the gods for the sedative. Had he been more clear-headed, he could have accomplished quite a bit one-handed. Idonir even tried to remove the leather collar of her armor, ineffectually. Metarie was not worried about the upper part of her body, except for the cracked ribs.

An unexpected piece of her plan then occurred. Idonir slumped and then sprawled on her as he passed out. Idonir’s armored shoulders and torso fell on her in a dead-weight. Thankfully, the distance was not so great as to gouge her temple and kill her, but it was certainly close. She turned her head to the side, trying to avoid a broken nose or any other broken facial bone for that matter. She was rewarded by her efforts a small pocket of air created by the size of her face and smelling Idonir fresh, being left between her shoulder and his.

Now that Idonir was down, she could not pass out yet. She would have to find a way to get free of him. Blearily Metarie considered her options. If she rolled to the right, the direction in which her face was pointed, she would roll onto her side, pushing against the ribs and possibly cracking them further. If she rolled to the right, she would bear the brunt of Idonir’s weight on her ribs. In each cast she would be twisted uncomfortably. So, this left trying to her hands free. Idonir would not be fighting against it, she hoped. Sedated people did odd things.
Aside from Idonir’s heavy breathing, thumping heartbeat, and her own, Metarie heard something. Suddenly, excited barking filled the room.

Kona! Kona meant… Lanya did not run away. A relieved smile crossed her mouth and she nearly sobbed. Only the pain of the inhalation stopped her. Instead a muffled mumble came out,

“Good dog.” Kona licked Metarie’s fingers and then disappeared. He began running back and forth between the front door and Metarie with little barks and whines. Hurry up humans! Hurry up humans! Occasionally he stuck his head through the area he had pried open and barked before disappearing and returning again.

[Lanya Caliope]

Left on her own outside of the house, Lanya turned to gaze at the street, the sky, the assorted buildings. She'd taken no notice of the area before, and took this one moment of quiet and relative peace to memorize what was nearby. Everything in her wanted to rush ahead of the guard to see what was within the house, but if Idonir were still awake...if Metarie hadn't been able to drug him...

She waited until the guard had cleared the threshold before following. Kona's barking remained just that: barking. He didn't sound keen on an attack of any kind, and the guard hadn't launched himself into an attack either. Either they'd killed each other, or Idonir was down.

"I'm coming by."

She stepped forward behind the guard and spoke, alerting him to her presence as she came into range and moved past him. It wouldn't do to have a sword thrust through her body by a tensed guardsman.

It was a carefully blank expression which took in the scene. The utter chaos of the room spoke volumes of the chase that had occurred, not to mention the damaged door. And there was Metarie, Kona barking at her side, with Idonir lying on top of her...

The bard fought back the urge to scream and cry, clenching her jaw and hardening her resolve. It was plain enough the terror that the elf had gone through. Several curses sprang to her mind as she moved forward, placing herself on the side opposite of the guard himself, and took one arm to begin trying to heave the thick guardsman straight into the air. She waited on the guard to realize what she wanted to do and follow suit - she would not be able to lift the weight as well as he, but she wouldn't stand by and let him try on his own.

Her face was a mask of impassiveness as she looked down at the elf. No tears waited to fall; no worry lines creased her features. It looked for all the world that she was merely tired. She would keep the depths of her distress to herself; they would only be an unhelpful burden in this moment.

She used the elf's name to make sure she heard. Lanya could see that she was struggling with consciousness to some degree.

"Metarie, we'll get him off. Tell me what else I may do to help you."

All of their clothes were accounted for, but to have such a large man attacking...she worried that Metarie was injured beyond mental distress.

[City Guard]

Hapnir eased his way through the house cautiously and tried to ignore the incessant barking of the dog. It was desperately trying to lead him to its owner, and the uninterrupted running of the animal through the house definitely suggested that the place was safe but, like Camulous, Hapnir took no chances. He'd seen some strange things in his days, as had most of the guardsmen. He still didn't even fully trust Lanya for that matter.

With his sword at the ready he crept through the place. It was not the best weapon for close quarters but he preferred it over fists, especially for dealing with someone like Idonir. With a second's glance towards the kitchen, he leaned into the living room and checked around. The place was a mess, but it could have been worse. There wasn't any blood on the walls or anything like that, and the books were all still neatly in their shelves. Another step in and he could see Idonir laying face first on the floor on top of the elf. His first impression was that they were both dead.

Even with that information he was careful. He kept his eyes open for anything suspicious and walked over. Only when he was standing a foot away from them did he sheathe his sword.

The elf was alive and Idonir was not visibly injured. There was some kind of needle on the floor next to his neck. He might have been breathing, but it could have been the elf moving under him.

The death of people not close to Hapnir meant little to him. At worst it was just another murder scene, and probably Idonir's fault. Metarie's trial wouldn't be pretty if he was dead, but he didn't want to think about that.

"Stay calm, I'll have him off in a second..."

Dutiful and autonomous, he leaned down and grabbed the back of Idonir's cuirass, hooking his fingers behind Idonir's shoulder blades and the metal. He threw his weight back, grunted with effort, and pulled the unconscious guard up and off of Metarie. Idonir flopped onto his back beside her onto Hapnir's foot without making a sound. He was drooling from the corner of his mouth.

Hapnir checked Idonir first by patting his cheek to see if there was any response. There wasn't, but at least he could tell that he was alive.

[Metarie]

“Good dog.”

Idonir’s hands hadn’t moved and wriggling to try to get free didn’t seem to be such a big issue now that Kona had arrived. Metarie closed her eyes and waited.

“Kona, sit.” She murmured as the dog snuffled at Idonir’s shoulder and tried to lick her face. The dog sat as commanded, but did wiggle and partially raise up before sitting down once again, looking expectently toward the doorway. Occasionally a huff or whine would escape, as well.

"Metarie, we'll get him off. Tell me what else I may do to help you."

"Stay calm, I'll have him off in a second..."

Metarie’s eyes opened when Idonir was pulled off of her and focused on Lanya. Lanya’s expression was tired. Hapnir’s was matter of fact.

Metarie chuckled more like she was breathing in an out, but there would be no mistaking it for what it was. A mischievious glint lit in her eye and a slight smile curved her mouth.

“Piglet,” she said to Hapnir with a nod, as if that would explain everything. "He's fine. He'll sleep it off."

Metarie’s gaze went back to Lanya. The slight smile kept on her mouth. “I am fine. Will you get my medicine kit from the bathroom?”

When she had the opportunity, meaning when and if Lanya went to get the kit, she said to Hapnir. “Do you know how to wrap a cracked rib cage?”