Precedent and Providence

[Dio]

The Doberman ran, sprinting forward and repeatedly glancing over his shoulder at the hooded figure chasing him. His boots tried to find purchase on slick cobblestone while rain pelted his face; matting his fur and only adding to his terrified expression. Despite his sprinting, the shadowy figure behind him seemed to keep up at a stroll. The reddish brown robe and hood of the canine's assailant occasionally lit up by a flash of lightning in the sky – but the robed figure's head remained low, shrouded in darkness.

Paying so much attention to the person chasing him, the canine hadn't watched his footing – and he paid for the lack of focus. With one of his panicked strides his boot slipped on the cobble, the large dog was sent sprawling to the ground. Eyes wide in horror as he twisted in mid air and landed hard on his backside. Staring up at the hooded figure as the distance between them was closed, the Doberman scrabbled backwards on his elbows – only to be halted by a large, clawed foot pressing down against his chest. Covered in pearly white scales, the claws dug in as they forced the dog down fully onto his back and pinned him there.

The tall figure loomed over the canine, another flash of lightning illuminating the wide sharp-toothed grin on their face. Panicking, the Canine lifted his hands to try and pry the leg away from his chest – only to have the full weight of his attacker put upon him; pushing the wind from his lungs. Before he could react, the figure threw their free leg out – delivering a firm kick to dogs temple with enough force to snap his head to the side and knock him out cold.

"Why do the last ones always need ta run?" The figure spoke, the hint of an accent to his tone.

Almost on queue the rain began to ease. The hooded figure watched the canine for a long moment to decide whether or not the blow had been enough. When the Doberman didn't shift, the figure pushed back his rain-soaked hood. His face was covered in small pearly white scales with several larger blue scales adorning the top of his head and nose. His features were extremely dragon-like – the only suggestion that he was not such being the distinct lack of wings sprouting from his shoulderblades. He leaned down, kneeling over the unconscious canine as he began to search his pockets and clothing for valuables.

His name was Diomades, and he was a hybrid. A Drazard, he called himself. He'd inherited dragon traits from his Mother's side of the family; lending to his thick scales, strength and intellect. Whereas on his father's side came traits usually found on lizards – agility, a love for Water and Sun, and a few other useful little inherited abilities that the Drazard made full use of in his line of work.

If you can even really call it work...

He was a mercenary, though he didn't quite like the sound of that. He often introduced himself to others as a traveler; a traveler that discouraged bandits from their chosen career path and took payment in the form of whatever goods they had in their camps or on their person. The locals had a love/hate relationship with him. They loved that he dealt with their bandit problems free of charge, but were it that something of particular value was in the possession of the Bandits after a particularly rewarding heist, the locals would never see those valuables again. Diomades took payment in the form of what he found – and it had left him quite well-off, under the circumstances.

He just didn't tell locals when he was going to be around. That's when they tended to avoid telling him about their bandit problems, lest he get his hands on their stolen goods and make off with them. Diomades saw it as fair trade; the Bandits would not bother the Villagers and whatever was gone simply stayed gone. They weren't going to get their valuables back without the intervention of somebody, anyway. Really, the villagers were not losing anything that was not already stolen. That seemed like a win for everybody.

Standing upright again, the Drazard looked at the items he'd salvaged from the canine. A dagger, a pouch full of silver and copper coins, a strange golden coin with a symbol stamped in its surface, and a stack of soaking wet letters addressed to different people. First he investigated the coin; it was 6 sided and appeared fairly hastily pressed. The strange symbol was not something he recognized, though he guessed it might have been a rune or the like. He assumed it was probably the most valuable thing here – currency from another place, perhaps. Collecting the letters, Dio flipped through them quietly in the hopes of finding some indication as to who the canine was. But each letter was written by and addressed to a different person, and had been opened and read recently. They belong to other people... Diomades snorted. Stealing mail? This guy is smaller than small time.

Stuffing the letters into one of the satchels hanging around his waist – you never knew when anything could come in handy, after all – Diomades collected the coin pouch and slid the dagger in between his robe and belt. Finally he looked at the gold coin, flipping it between his knuckles thoughtfully; he decided to slide it into a hidden pocket on the inside of his robe for safe keeping. Looking back down at the unconscious bandit for a moment, the Drazard turned his attention back to the sky and held out his arms to feel the rain patter against his scales and robe. It was still fairly heavy, and the rain clouds were so thick that you couldn't tell if it was day or night. He assumed that the sun was probably rising by now – as good a time as any to clean up and head out.

He wandered back in the direction he came, leaving the unconscious bandit to wake up in his own time. The cobblestone path ran through what were largely wide, grassy plains. Save for the occasional tree, the only visible landmarks would have been way off in the distance – though they were not visible in this weather. To the North and West was a giant mountain range that stretched out along the horizon. The further South you travelled, the thicker the trees became before you found yourself in jungle. And towards the east, the plains thinned out into desert right before you found the coastline and ocean. If you followed the path long enough in any direction you were bound to eventually run across a city. Though, Diomades tended to avoid them and stuck to the countryside.

He'd origionally come from the South, having traveled through the Jungle in order to find his way here. He'd been travelling the countryside in this area for over two years now, though there was still much left for him to explore. He'd stuck close to the jungle Jungle and plains, travelling from town to town nearby and listening to gossip to get an idea of where or when he might find nearby bandit encampments. And as it turned out, the latest gossip had paid off.

Before him was the latest bandit camp he'd discovered. It seemed perfectly serene, with only a few small hints of a scuffle suggesting any fowl play having happened. Approaching the camp, Diomades grinned at his handiwork. Bandits were unconscious  in their tents, either dragged there or knocked out there while they slept. To a passerby or one of the bandit patrols, they'd simply all appear to be sleeping. But Dio wasn't able to get them all – their lookout had spotted him moving about in the dark and was spooked, sending the Drazard on the chase before he could nab everything of value from the camp. But now, that was dealt with.

He pulled his backpack off his back, dropping it in the center of the camp. It was large and mostly empty right now; save for a few rations and necessary supplies. But that would quickly change as Dio wandered the camp, checked bodies and chests. Occasionally returning to his open backpack, he'd dump a stack of items into it. But as he searched each body, he became more concerned.

Each of the dozen or so bandits was carrying a gold, six-sided coin pressed with a symbol.

That suggested organization the likes of which he'd not yet come across in any of the bandits in the area. Organization which – given how easily this group was dispatched – was highly unusual. He tried to put it from his mind, he'd ask around town about it later on to figure it out.

The Drazard heard the heavy footsteps before he saw what they were coming from.  He reacted quickly as he heard the footsteps approaching from the distance, grabbing his backpack and dragging it along with him as he ducked behind one of the tents. Peeking out from behind it in the direction of the footsteps, Dio felt the blood rush from his face at the sight. It was a giant of a dragon; a hulking slab of muscle and blue scales covered in metal armor. The Drazard pressed his back against the tent and sucked in a breath as the dragon entered the camp.

His past had just caught up with him.

[Bones]

Her head was bowed in a humble gesture, as the elder woman placed the delicate, glittering tiara upon her head. Her ears twitched a moment as her body accustomed itself to the added weight of the heirloom and symbol of her power and importance, then she opened her brilliant green eyes, and stared back into the face of the one who had just crowned her, a small smile gracing her face. The sphinx gave a gentle nod of her head and turned from the beaming elder, her beautiful and regal grandmother, to face her people for the first time. The silky locks on her head flowed from her face in a wind created only by the power newly radiating from her. She glowed a pale blue color, and she lifted, rising from the ground, to hover just above the stone steps of the palace. Her arms outstretched as if she were welcoming her people to her rule. They began to cheer, and the praise only fueled her farther. Her eyes slipped closed again, and her face upturned to the sky.

The girl, Shyroxin, woke in a panicked sweat, frantically glancing around the room in confusion as she tossed aside the small blanket she covered herself with. It had been so real, her dream, that this place she was in seemed... fiction. The hostel room was small, consisting of four walls, a door, a bed and a night stand. But it was all she needed, not to mention all she could afford. Her legs swung over the side, and she propped her elbows on her knees, resting her forehead in her hands as she tried to make sense of what she'd just awoken from. The images she seen, the feelings she felt... She still felt that faint glowing feeling inside her.. It didn't make sense. Her chest rose and reluctantly fell in a heavy sigh and she pushed the dream (or was it a nightmare?) from her mind.

She stood then, her lithe body stretching, arching this way and that, as her sleepy muscles all began to wake, despite the protest of pain she felt from them. A small mewling groan escaped her mouth, which quickly morphed into a full, tongue-curling yawn. She snapped back to reality, and caught site of herself in a small mirror hanging on the wall opposite her. Her face twisted a bit in recoil. She'd never found herself particularly attractive nor unattractive, just nothing special. But compared to person she had been in that dream... Well this feline before her was far from that image.

Making a moan of disgust, and waving a paw at the mirror, she turned her shoulder pack laying on the floor. She stood clad only in a pair of panties. Sleeping in the hostel for the night had allowed her a shower, and use of water to wash her clothing, which now laid out to dry. She leaned over and snatched up the pants, testing to see if the fabric was still damp. When she found it satisfactory she slid them on quickly, and turned back to the mirror.

The urge to recoil in disgust again was there, but she had to make herself look, at the very least, acceptable; and so she attempted to smooth out her hair. Extending her claws, she pulled them through the tangles therein quickly. The female wet her paw and smoothed it over the unruly mess that was her hair, and tamed it into something she assumed would look, at the very least, acceptable.

"Well, I ain't no damn princess shit, that's for damn sure," the feline mumbled to herself, still comparing the image she saw now, to the one she had been in the dream. She had honestly never thought much about her appearance, but she knew the advantages and disadvantages of standing out in a crowd. She knew that she had a good structure; a thin, lean frame, with womanly curves, and perky breasts, long fair hair, that accented the strange pale blue of her fur, bright eyes that captured all who looked into them for more than a moment, and bone structure that could rival even the princess she'd seen in her dream. But none of that would matter if it were never taken care of enough to show off.

Sure, the femme would have loved to live in the lap of luxury. Sure, she'd love to be able to take care of herself, to live up to her full potential. But she was, for all intents and purposes, a street rat, and she had to make due with what she had: very little. She glanced to the pack slumped next to the wall again, and her bright eyes clouded for a moment when she thought of what was inside.

A picture of her parents was her most valued possession, and it was kept safe in her pack, wrapped in several layers of protective cotton. They were a happy, young couple in the picture, and her mother had been pregnant with her. Sometimes Rox would simply stare at the picture, wondering what had taken such a happy couple from where they were then, to the life she now found herself in. She couldn't remember her parents, and she went on faith alone that the picture was even of those that had created her. She had been left on the steps of an orphanage, a terrible one at that, but she couldn't blame her parents for that. They wouldn't have left her there if they had known she would then tolerate the most horrid eighteen years she could imagine, right?

The place had taught Rox well though. In the fine arts of being what amounted to more or less a rogue. The feline knew stealth well, and she had gotten to be something of a con artist in her later years. She'd tried many times to escape the prison that kept her, but they always got her back. Until she was eighteen, then they willingly turned her loose on the world. She ran out to meet the world with excitement, so happy to be free, and found that the skills she'd been taught only served her on the streets. Rox made ends meet then, barely enough to survive, going to sleep with a hungry stomach most nights, and sleeping on the cruel ground.

She'd lived that way for a year, now... And it was her birthday. Her ears perked, and her tail twitched, hopeful happiness rising in her. Until it sunk again, ears flattening to her head, when she realized that she had no one to celebrate with. No one in the world even knew it was her birthday.

"Yay, you're nineteen. Get the fuck over it, Rox," the feline mumbled, snatching up her light-weight cotton shirt from the ground and pulling it over her head. Her hair was instantly fussed up again, and she smoothed her paws over it with a slight hiss. Grabbing her pack she'd sling the strap over her shoulder, and settle it comfortably on her hip, before pulling her cape on last.

Rox looked back at the room. So void of, well, anything really. It felt like a disgusting metaphor for her life, and she groaned again. The only signs of life were the fussed up mess left over, the bed she'd not bothered to make. With a gruff grunt, she whirled and was out the door quickly, and it took her a moment to slow her pace to a normal stroll, so she didn't alarm any she might pass on her way out.

Passing through the lobby she glanced at the front desk, unsure of the check out method. She simply nodded her head to the equine woman behind the counter, who smiled in return and offered a polite wave. Rox took that as a go ahead, and started across the room, but her eyes caught the authority figures walking in, and, out of habit, she instantly slumped against a wall, her hood up in a swift motion; effectively cloaking herself from sight.

She heard muffled voices, and she cursed herself for staying in a hostel so close to the con that had allotted her the money to even stay in a warm bed in the first place. A few cues from their body language told her quickly that they were looking for something, someone even, and that they were impatient about finding that particular object of pursuit.

Rox had just decided to slip silently by and out the door when the equine's arm outstretched and pointed in her direction. The feline hissed under her breath instantly, but kept a calm demeanor about her. That was until the authority figures turned, and she saw that they were not specific to this town, but higher up. Her jaw lay agape for just a fraction of a second in utter confusion. Why in the world would such high officials waste their time searching for the culprit of a petty crime?

Quickly the feline was out the door in a flutter of robes, running from whatever it was that was chasing her this time.

[Dio]

Blood.

It was all over his hands, all in his eyes. He could barely make anything out anymore as he ducked and weaved simply by instinct alone. And his instinct served him well; the dragon was fast, but Dio was faster. However, he was not always fast enough – the viscous red blood that coated his once white scales was testament to that.  He might have been able to dodge most of the dragon's blows, but whenever the far larger reptile landed one it was like he'd been kicked by a horse.

He couldn't keep doing this, he knew that. He wasn't going to be able to keep this fight up, he could already feel himself becoming lightheaded; a result of the blood loss and his own fatigue. He wasn't sure how long he and the giant blue Dragon had been fighting, but they'd moved well away from the bandit camp by now. Dio was slowly leading their skirmish back towards territory he knew, a place that he could turn this around; the Gorgyra Jungle. His home turf.

Wiping blood from his eyes as he jumped to the side to dodge a low kick, the Drazard glanced back behind him. The trees had begun to thicken out; they were only a few meters away from thick jungle now. But his one moment of hesitation to check his surroundings was paid for in blood. As Dio glanced back to his assailant, he took a powerful blow to the jaw that sent him spiraling off his feet and into the air. It felt like he was suspended there for a time, floating in weightlessness before he plummeted to the ground with a jarring crack as he landed on his chest. He was certain he just broke a rib, and the sight of the early morning sun looming overhead was of no comfort.

The force of the fall was enough to make his head reel, he couldn't even find the ability to grunt or moan. Though he was given no time to wallow in self pity, since as he went to roll over onto his back he saw one of the dragons giant, clawed feet raise up over his head. Whatever pain that the Drazard felt was pushed aside as he rolled, forcing his tail and an arm to the grass to send him along as the clawed foot landed in nothing but dirt. The Drazard maneuvered to his feet just in time to arch himself out of the way of a swing at his midsection, and another to his head.

Punch after punch, the Drazard blocked and dodged as he was pressed back. He kept moving until he could see what he needed in his peripheral vision, and waited for the right moment. It didn't take long before it came – a low kick to the reptile's legs to try and trip him up. Dio was prepared for it and leapt, up and forward, landing on the Dragon's shoulders. But before the blue dragon could react, the Drazard was out of his grasp; leaping upwards into the air, arms outstretched and grabbing a hold of a branch well out of the reach of the drake. He pulled himself up onto it.

Squatting there, Diomades struggled to catch his breath. Wiping the blood out of his eyes and smearing it over his robe to clear his vision fully. His jaw ached, his head throbbed, his vision was slightly blurred; and the Dragon below him was left totally unscathed; standing there silently, glaring up at the lizard in the trees. Their standoff would not last, Dio knew it. He needed to buy himself some time. After a moment, he grinned down at the Dragon below him and spoke.

"Still chasing me down after all these years, Korus?" The Drazard quipped sarcastically, his voice cracking with pain as he spoke.

"I will hunt you to the ends of the world , monster! You cannot run forever! You will pay for what you did to our tribe!" Korus growled out angrily, moving towards the tree to find a way to get his hands on the Drazard.

Dio had to think fast, glancing about as he thought of his options and talking at the same time. "I did nothing to your tribe that they didn't already have coming to them! You bought it on yourselves!" He growled in reply in an attempt to be intimidating. It wouldn't work, not against Korus.

Korus grasped the trunk of the tree and shook it powerfully. "Come down from there, coward!" He roared out at the top of his lungs.

The Drazard slipped from his branch and had to grab hold with both of his hands to stay connected to it. Dangling from the branch by only his arms, it was then that Diomades realized he had no other choice. Gritting his teeth, he let go of the branch and landed on the ground near silently. Even if Korus had heard it, it would not have helped him. The Drazard was moving again moments after hitting the ground – throwing a leg up to kick the Dragon firmly in the back of the head with enough force to send it snapping forward. Korus's face smashed into the tree trunk.

Dio stood there, his leg still outstretched from his kick, panting heavily as the Dragon slumped to his knees. He waited, watching Korus for any sign of movement... but none came. Letting out a sigh, the Drazard lowered his leg back to the ground and sighed, "I can't believe that actually--"

Before he could finish, the Dragon whipped around and lunged out at Dio with a roar. As the Drazard was sent sprawling wide-eyed backwards, he caught a glimpse of the damage he'd caused. All the front of Korus' snout was scratched in long, painful scars. Many of the blue scales upon his face had caught on the tree trunk, tearing off and leaving bloody sores in their wake. But as the Drazard landed on his back, he pressed his feet and hands firmly to the grass, tensed his legs, and flipped over backwards to send himself sprawling over the shocked Dragon.

Korus hit the ground with a thud, releasing Diomades and sending him rolling over the grass a few feet backwards before he found his footing. The Drazard was on his legs again before Korus had even pushed himself to his elbows, and Dio didn't waste any time with the opening. Rushing forward, the Drazard whipped his tail about and wrapped it around Korus' neck while pressing his knee in between the Dragon's shoulder blades. Grasping  at the end of his tail, Dio pulled on it tight – choking Korus with the thick, scaly length of his tail.

The dragon lifted his hands and struggled, grasping at the tail as he attempted to escape it. But it was no good, Dio's grip was simply too tight. In an act of desperation, Korus slashed his tail out at the Drazard's legs. Not expecting it, Dio was sent tumbling to the grass; his tail loosening from Korus' neck and giving him the freedom to room that he so desired. The Dragon jumped to his feet and turned to finish off the Drazard.

But the Reptile had already thought ahead and was in motion once more as the far slower Dragon maneuvered about. As Korus turned fully to face Diomades, the Drazard had already rolled up onto his shoulders, pressed his hands to the grass and kicked both legs into the air, straight up. He scored a perfect hit; the heels of both of his feet colliding with the Dragon's chin with enough force to send him sprawling backwards, landing on his back on the grass with a thud.

This time, the Drazard was not going to stick around and make a witty comment. He forced himself to his feet, turned, and began to sprint away before the Dragon had even hit the ground. But the further away Dio ran, the more sure he became that he didn't hear the gallop of the giant heavy Dragon behind him. He assumed that he'd managed to knock Korus out. He still didn't risk it; he kept running. Maintaining his speed for a few minutes before he felt fatigue catching up with him and his adrenaline waning. The Drazard slowed and shot a glance over his shoulder in the direction he came; he saw no sign of Korus. Dio let out a sigh of relief.

He paused a moment to consider his options, and decided instantly that he needed to get to a town. He had collected plenty of loot that he needed to get rid of, he needed to rest in a real bed, possibly see a doctor... that's when something occurred to him. Reaching into his robe, he fished out one of the coins that he'd discovered on the bandits and pondered it.

He had enough to deal with already. But at the very least hunting down leads on the object had the potential to lead him to a place that Korus would not search in his hunt for vengeance. And, if there are more of these out there... that could be enough gold to get on the first boat out of here. The Drazard clenched the coin in his palm and nod once before slipping it back into his robe. It was decided.

Turning on a heel, he began to walk in the direction of the nearest town.

[Bones]

Rox didn't stop running until she was several blocks away. She didn't even dare look over her shoulder more than once or twice as she ran, for fear of slowing herself down. She was used to being chased, but never by men so far up in the legal system. The feline wasn't sure what to make of it, and she was, for the first time in a very long time, experiencing the closest thing to fear she'd ever felt. She hissed in discomfort.

She slumped against the rough wall of the nearest building, as her chest heaved and fell in a rhythmic pattern of exhaustion. She struggled to catch her breath, the fear making running so much harder than she ever remembered it being. She'd never been so winded, literally and metaphorically, in her life. Her body trembled. She hated being so low on the totem pole of society, but that didn't mean she wanted to be locked away any time soon. She was only doing what it took to live...

With one final, heavy breath, Rox pushed herself from the wall, and stood straight. Her hood had fallen from her head at some point in her fleeing, so she quickly lifted it back over her ears again, as her eyes grazed her surroundings. She had a little money left from her last big con, so she figured it'd be smart not to try any slights of hand or anything today. Lay under the radar, so to speak. The resolution had her feeling uneasy.

Without warning, a grumbling noise came from her midsection, and she groaned back at it in protest. Time to find a very quiet, out of the way location to have breakfast, she thought. Somewhere she couldn't possibly be found. She started down the road, but came to a dead stop, jaw hanging open. She had never been so thankful for the hood of her cloak.

She stood facing a wanted poster, and on it: her face. The feline wasn't sure what to make of it. She was a criminal, she knew this well and good. But she as so small time that most others she knew didn't regard her as one of their own. She conned and stole just to live, and from the looks of her, she wasn't living the big time in the least. She couldn't fathom why they'd decide to waste time coming after her. A new-found panic was rising in her, and she was reminded of the state in which she'd woken from her dream that morning.

She snapped back to reality, glancing about to see that no one had seen her staring at the posted notice. Then she turned back to it, curious what information was given there. Her height, and body type was listed, as well as her fur tone. As unique as she was, she knew she'd be found soon if she stayed in the middle of the town where people would abide by the law, and turn her in without a second thought. There was no reward listed yet, but if high officials were looking for her, she wouldn't be surprised if one was added soon. And then she'd have to deal with those who were the closet thing she had to friends, wanting to turn her in for the money.

Her crimes were not listed either. Just that she was wanted by law enforcement and any information on her whereabouts would be met happily. She read over it several times, desperate to understand why she was being hunted like this. She resisted the urge to spit at the notice, to tear it down, but those actions would be met with suspicion by anyone who saw them occur, and so she would simply grit her teeth and walk casually away from the spot in which her footpaws felt glued.

She made her way through the city, to the outskirts of it, where she didn't expect the notices would be posted yet. On the way, she had only seen that one. So the search wasn't as advanced as it could be. But how had they found the exact hostel in which she stayed the first day of searching? It would be valuable not to second guess these people hunting her, as they clearly had their shit together.

Before entering the tavern she had found, she made sure to duck behind the building. There, shrouded in shadow, she bent, removing her hood, and covering the bits of her exposed fur in a dusting of dirt. Yes, she'd just had a shower, and yes, she would rather remain feeling clean. But her fur tone was much too noticeable, and she wasn't ready to take any chances, even if notices weren't posted this far out. There would be time for more showers if she made it out of this town safely.

Feeling that her fur had been turned to a dingy enough color, one that felt more brown than pale blue, she entered the tavern cautiously. Reluctantly she removed her hood, knowing that keeping it up would be more suspicious. She made her way across the room, not meeting the eyes of many. She situated herself at the bar-front, sliding onto a stool slowly, removing her cloak and laying it across the bar in front of her. Her bag was flung off of her shoulder, and settled protectively between her legs.

"How can I help you, Miss?" came the shocking voice of the canine bartender. She jumped a bit, as she was still enthralled in her own thoughts. She met his face, and instantly cursed her bright eyes. He was smiling, but when they made eye contact, his smile widened, and he seemed to lean forward, instantly drawn into her aura. And this was exactly why she would never curse herself for her average looks. As long as she kept eye contact to a minimum, she could fly under the radar, and keep herself effectively hidden.

"You guys have any breakfast items? Preferably cheap," she mumbled out, her voice trailing off as she dropped her eyes to her lap, and picked at her claws. She had decided to go with the hesitant personality that she had developed over time; expecting this to get her overlooked. She couldn't have been more wrong.

"Hey, pretty lady, you look sad about something. What is it?" the dog asked, leaning his elbows on the counter in front of her. 'Fuck,' she thought, 'these damn eyes. He's already hooked.' Rox would need to think quick on her feet, and come up with some story to explain her demeanor.

"I'm just leaving town today. I'm a drifter, but it always gets me a little down every time I do the drifting thing," she looked up, met his eyes again, and offered a small smile, careful not to make to too big, as she didn't want to dazzle him too far with it. The eye-contact would be enough to convince him that she was telling the truth.

"Well that's no fun at all. We need more pretty kitties like you around, Miss. Care to tell this ol' dog why you're leaving so soon?" he asked, countering with a smile of his own, and her heart strings were tugged just slightly. For the first time in a while, she wished she could have friends that would say such things and really, truly mean them.

"It's not exactly soon, I've been here for a bit now. It's just time to move on," she let her smile broaden a little, hoping against hope that it would be convincing, and he'd drop the subject. "Now, about those eats?"

"Sure thing, pretty lady," he gushed with enthusiasm, handing her a small menu. She looked it over quickly, picking out a simple meal of some biscuits and gravy. It was cheap, and filling. He even threw in a tall glass of orange juice for free. She ate in silence, grateful that the canine had taken up busying himself with other patrons, even if he did keep giving her a glance every once in a while. Rox quickly lost herself to her thoughts, and the room around her melted away.

[Dio]

The Drazard stood on a hill overlooking the city of Arell; a simple city in the center of the plains. While a lot of trade convoys passed through it, few stuck around to do trading there. So Arell had turned into an average city packed to the brim with stores selling necessary travel supplies, inns with plenty of beds, and doctors with cheap rates. Because of the sheer number of travelers passing through at any time, keeping track of the populace had become a major problem. Crime ran rampant within the city walls, and the town watch was simply too short on the manpower to deal with it. Several of Dio's jobs in past had taken place in or around Arell, dealing with bandits.

He never liked the city much, though. It was good in that it had plenty of places to hide, was full of information, and getting the jump on a mark was not difficult. But the bad far exceeded the good. Within the city limits, Dio stuck out like a sore thumb. Typically, races with scales kept their distance from cities and villages for a more tribal or rural lifestyle. Furthermore, there were very few people with white scales. That was the entire reason that Diomades wore the robes and hood; people paid less attention to a mysterious figure than an albino one.

He shook the thoughts from his mind and sucked in a breath. Pausing for a moment, he let it loose with a sigh before he began to walk down the hill in the direction of Arell's gates. Once he began to get closer he pulled his hood up over his head, shrouding his face in darkness while also tucking his hands into the opposite sleeve to hide them. The only exposed parts of himself were his large, clawed feet thick, scaly tail. It was just as well – the guards were likely to ask questions about a traveler entering their city covered in dry blood.

The two guards at the gate paid him little heed as he passed them by. Even though he had expected to pass unnoticed, Dio still had to release a held breath after the tense moment. Now that he was within the city limits, he knew he would be fine as long as he stuck to the outer areas. First priority was getting to a doctor; and it wouldn't take him long before he found a sign pointing him down an underutilized side street in the direction of a private doctor. Dio made his way down the street in the direction of it, and entered the surgery; a dingy building next to an alley riddled with trash.

Pushing the door open and looking inside, at first he thought he'd just wandered into a home. It was furnished as you might expect a home to be; with a bookshelf against the wall, table and chairs towards the center of the room, a bench with a mostly melted candlestick resting upon it. It wasn't until Dio leaned further in through the front door that he spotted an open back room with what appeared to be a table covered in surgical instruments that he realized this was the place.  As he went to take another step inside, however, he was confronted by the face of a female hawk at close range. Eyes wide and her beak pulled back in a smile, no matter how unintimidating she looked, Dio still jumped backwards in surprise.

The hawk woman frowned, holding out a feathery arm apologetically. Long feathers extended down from her arms – obviously making them double as wings. Feather-like fingers extended out towards the Drazard. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! Please, come in!" She spoke in a soft tone.

Dio paused in the doorway. His distance from the hawk gave him the chance to take in the sight of her; slender, tall and beautiful. He didn't let his eyes wander, nodding and stepping through the door and past the hawk. His hood was still pulled down over his head, shrouding his face in darkness. He glanced back at her as he stood inside, catching her looking curiously at his tail. He imagined she was curious about the white scales. Few people were not.

He cleared his throat to get her attention.

The doctor looked up, and Dio could make out the faint signs of a blush under her brown feathers. She wandered over to him and smiled, clasping her feathery hands behind her back. "So. What can I help you with today, Mr...?"

"Diomades." The Drazard replied simply, pulling his hood back. He still had dried blood staining the cracks between his scales.

The hawk frowned instantly – as much as her beak would allow – and stepped forward to investigate his head injuries. "You look like you've been through a lot, Mr. Diomades." The Hawk said quietly. She seemed less interested in his white scales and far more in his cuts now. Pausing a moment, she stepped away from him. "Get your robe off, I'll be back in a moment." She said as she turned and walked away.

He paused a moment before he complied. Pulling his robe up over his head to expose his chest and stomach, the Drazard was left standing in a pair of loose brown pants. A bandage was wrapped tight around his midsection to cover an older wound, stained with antiseptic and fresh blood loosed from the recent fight. His body was covered in small white scales, with the only differing  scales being the blue ones running over the top of his head, down the length of his spine and half-way down the length of his tail.

When the Hawk returned, she held a bottle of fluid in one hand and a towel in another. She paused at the sight of the white-scaled Drazard before her. His body was toned, but not overly muscled or thin. And despite his current state fairly worse for wear, he was still very attractive – though that may have been partly because of his rather exotic looks. Clearing her throat, the Hawk stepped forward and dabbed some of the liquid from the bottle on the towel. She began to wipe down the Drazard's scales with antiseptic, getting rid of the blood and giving the white scales a fresh new sheen. She even removed the bandage from his abdomen, replacing it with a fresh new one.

Dio remained quiet, not saying a word as he was tended to. She seemed unsure of how to deal with his head, as there had been a wound there somewhere to cause all that bleeding – but it seemed to be hidden beneath all the scales. She eventually gave up. "That's the best I can do. Wait here a moment, please?" She asked as she left Dio to get changed back into his robe, while she went and put away the antiseptic and towel.

He didn't wait for her to return. He knew she would have questions, he'd seen the way she'd looked at him. Pulling some coins from his coin pouch – more than enough to pay her for her time – he left them on her table and walked out of the building. It was better for the both of them if he did not allow people like her to get close to him.

Returning to the street, he felt his stomach growl. He'd not eaten or slept in at least a day now, and the sun was quickly beginning to set. He needed food and sleep more than anything else right now. He looked around and noticed the low hanging sign of a Tavern nearby. Better than nothing, he thought to himself.

Pulling his hood back over his head, he wandered to the Tavern and walked inside. Few people paid him heed, seeming to not even register his entering. However, as he walked to the bar the sway of his thick white tail was more than enough to get a few curious glances. He didn't warrant them with a response, sliding into a seat and nodding to the bartender. The canine acknowledged Dio with a curt nod, though he seemed to pause uncomfortably before he walked over.

"I'm gonna to have to ask you to pull back your hood. Tavern rules." The bartender stated, puffing out his chest to make himself seem bigger than he actually was in the case that the stranger caused trouble.

It wasn't necessary. Dio pushed his hood back and smiled politely. The bartender seemed to stare a moment in quiet curiosity at the Drazard's white scales, and Dio was aware of other eyes in the room upon him. A reptile is one thing, a white one is another. Diomades remembered a trader saying to him once. The bartender paused before shaking his head and raising a brow. "Not often that we see your kind out this far. What can I get for you?" The Canine asked.

"Soup. Whatever kind you've got. If you have any bread, too, that would be fantastic. Oh, and a decently sized glass of warm water." Dio replied. The Bartender nodded, wandering off to the kitchen to inform the chef.

That's when the drazard spotted her; the feline sitting two seats away from him. She looked worse for wear; tired and dirty. He had to smile slightly to himself the familiarity he felt, though he did not look at her for long when the bartender returned with his food. The Drazard began to eat slowly in quiet, as though stretching out the meal. He eventually looked to her as he kept his head towards his meal, before speaking in her direction. "You look like you've been through hell." The reptile quipped quietly as his tail swayed behind him slowly, the tip sweeping back and forth across the floor. He continued eating quietly as he waited to see if she would speak.