A nightmare away from home.

[Ulrich Gestrin Von Waldrom]

The air was cool and the morning dew still glistened on the windows and various peices of metal and plants across the city, the sun was just breaking across the sky, the moon gently fadeing away at it's lowpoint for the dawn. It was a serene picture, a picture that Ulrich, did not enjoy.

He sat at a table near a window in a small backwater inn, it was early but he already had a bottle of cheap winebottle clutched in his right hand. He'd even been there long enough to fall into a routine, whitch went as follows.

Look outside, curse and mutter and then take a long pull of the thin and wattered wine the inn's owner attempted to pass off as a decent drink by selling it in a new bottle instead of reusing the old ones, a fancy trick that did absolutly nothing to make up for the taste.

'What the hell am I doing here? I should be back in Reavstone... Better chance of catching a ship and crew there anyway. But here I am looking for a bunch of yahoo's with pointed sticks and wooden sheilds out to take on an empire... Im out 'o' my head!' He thought to himself miserably, his expresion mirroing his thoughts.

"Sharding city!" He grunted reaching up with his free hand to scratch at his eyepatch, his good eye was red and irritated from lack of sleep. He'd been there since before the sun rose this morning.

With a sigh he let his head slip to the table, the wine bottle gripped firmly in his hand as he struggled to think up his next course of action... "If only she could see me now!" He hissed crypticaly.

[cure]

Cure sighed as she fingered through the coins she had left in her money pouch. With the money for the night she spent at the inn factored out, she had enough for at least one more hot meal. Still, she would need to find more business before leaving Aberon, or else she'd be stopping again sooner than she'd like to. At least there were a lot of soldiers in Surda's capital, and that usually meant there were a lot of injuries and maybe a few illnesses that needed tending to. She hoped the Varden had handed out the payroll recently, or else she'd probably find herself healing for free and starving again.

Her hawk, Dínendal, was still out hunting for his breakfast, and Cure decided to follow his lead. She already finished brushing and tying up her hair a while ago, and could pack later. After carefully double-knotting her coin pouch to her belt, she opened the creaky door, and headed down the hall. Her low-healed boots clacked femininely against the hard wood as she descended down the stairs and entered the bar.

She usually tried to avoid shady inns like these, and she clashed horribly with the place in her lady-like Elvish clothes, but it was all she could afford for the time being. After taking a seat on one of the barstools, she discreetly took notice of those around her; the yawning bartender polishing a chipped glass, a fat drunk passed out and snoring in the corner, and a rather dangerous looking man with long dark hair and an eye-patch resting his head on a nearby table. She swallowed and concentrated on the grainy countertop wood while she waited for the bartender to notice her and take her order. She wished Dínendal was with her... and that she had taken the time last night to sew up the long thigh slits in her dress, (she kept meaning to do it, but always forgot and regretted it later).

[Ulrich Gestrin Von Waldrom]

Ulrich raised his head from the table, his one good eye fixed again on the watered down wine... "Oi! Bar keep! Did ye it least use real water ta water this feldnost piss down?" He growled angrilly at the barkeep who pretended not to hear.

When he dident recive an awnser he turned and spat against the floor in his general direction before drapeing his arm across the back of his chair and planting his feet on the table top, tipping back in the chair he took a long pull off the drink that would of made a lesser man unaccustomed to holding ihs liquer lose what little food was in his stoumiqh then and there... It helped that up untill this point most of the days food, and the previous night had been the same liquid whitch he now drank. Not even strong enough to give his head a decent buzz...

After slamming the bottle onto the table he turned his beautiful single eye back to the rough innmaster... "Bring me anouther 'o' grasious host!" He sneered vilely to the man before the girl caught the corner of his eye... For a moment he felt like he was gonna fall over backwards... An elf? His hand stroked the poinard in his belt instinctivly, but the feleing of vertigo passed over him and he regained sense... No, it wasent an elf... Damn close though...

"Maybe this stuff is finnaly getting tah me?" he mumbeld aloud as he glanced away from the woman when the barkeep roughly slammed the next bottle down on the counter...

"Get it yerself and go back to the sea ya flea ridden peice 'o' floatsom!"

"It's jetsom ye great ol worm!" Ulrich replied primly before calling to the girl...

"Oi! Miss! Ye wouldent be so kind as ta bring that over would ye? That great oaf asent won an argument with me an he aint about to yet!" he called shifting his gaze to her and doing his best to look freindly... Dashing he was... Friendly... Hardly, and the look only made him look slightly funny.

[cure]

"Oi! Bar keep! Did ye it least use real water ta water this feldnost piss down?"

The sudden exclamation amidst the serene morning quiet caused Cure to jump. She knew she shouldn't be so surprised, being where she was, but she couldn't help it. Places like these always put her on edge.

The silence returned while the man in the eye patch went back to his wine, though it lasted not but two minutes. Cure pursed her lips and looked away when he and bartender began to argue, and jumped again when the bartender slammed something down on the counter beside her. She was beginning to think of going somewhere else for a decent breakfast, somewhere more peaceful and-

"Oi! Miss!"

Was... was the man in the eye patch talking to her? Cure turned to look at him. There was much caution in her gaze, but there was a sort of curiosity there was well.

"Ye wouldn't be so kind as ta bring that over, would ye? That great oaf 'asent won an argument with me, and he ain't about to yet!"

Cure stared at him a moment, then looked over towards the wine bottle the bartender had left on the counter, then back at him. He looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep as of late, and like he hadn't eaten a square meal in a while. He was clearly trying to appear friendly and harmless, but Cure wasn't about to let her guard down entirely... or her pride.

"I am not a bar girl, sir," she retorted with a certain amount of edge in her tone, and promptly looked away. She last thing she wanted to do was get herself too involved.

[Ulrich Gestrin Von Waldrom]

"Awwww! Excuse meh miss! I meant naw offence by it... Ya see it's jus that great oaf is so difficult... Cant ya be a dear and bring it to a poor ol' shipless sailor such-as-me-self? You'd be a right queen 'o' the sea ye would!" He called sweetly to her raiseing the empty bottle in salute...

With a sigh he tipped a bit farther back on his chair eyeing her as harmlessly as he could... The slits in her dress... Dang... Not a barmaid huh? Could-a fooled him... And half of surda for that matter.

Shifting slightly again he fixed his eye on the on the bottle, then shifted it back to her... Back and forth back and forth, he looked a bit pleading really... Like a kicked puppy.

(Sorry it's so short...)

[cure]

"Awwww! Excuse meh miss! I meant naw offense by it... Ya see, it's jus' that great oaf is so difficult. Can't ya be a dear and bring it to a poor ol' shipless sailor such as meself? You'd be a right queen 'o the sea, ye would!"

So he was a sailor. That explained the unusual attire... but Cure caught herself with a reminder that her clothing was quite unusual as well. Still, the nerve of him, trying to play into a girl's sympathies! And topping it off with a cheap compliment, no less! She turned her head around and fixed him with an annoyed glare... and found herself being stared right back at with the most pleading of puppy eyes, (or in his case, puppy eye).

You shouldn't fall for his silly tricks, Cure told herself as she watched his striking gaze flicker from her to the bottle and back. You tend to the sick and injured, not the whiney and lazy!

...Although I wouldn't put him past being mentally ill.

Cure fixed her eyes on the bottle beside her. She hated alcohol. In her opinion, it was an appalling concoction that ruined lives and families, and transformed even the kindest of men into horrible villains. Just the thought of it was making her lose her appetite... Well then, so much for breakfast. She doubted the bartender would serve her now that she was getting up with the sailor's bottle in hand anyway. Why she decided to bring him his foul drink after all was beyond her. She always was much too easily persuaded.

Cure wordlessly crossed the room, her boot heels clacking against the creaky floorboards and her eyes locked in a bitter glare. She stopped when she reached the table the sailor was sitting at, placed her free hand on her hip, and put the bottle down on the table with a dull thud.

[Ulrich Gestrin Von Waldrom]

Ulrich smiled up at the girl serenly, with a quick jerk his chair came down with a loud thud and in a single swoop he snatched up the drink, tore out the cork, spat it aside and took a long pull... Once that was done he looked up at the girl with a smile... "Thank-ye kindly ma'am! I dont know what i woulda done If'en the old coot woulda finnaly won an argument with meh..." He smiled up at her, he was dashing... But again his rough nature betrayed him.

"Why dont ya take a seat ma'am? It's lonely drinkin alone... And it must be lonely sittin at the bar like that..." He asked, arching an eyebrow and leaning forward to kick the chair on the other side of the table out for the girl to sit in... "I promise I won't bi'e!" He cooed meeting her gaze.

[cure]

Cure's eyes widened in slight disgust as she watched the sailor quickly down his drink. If she hadn't lost her appetite by thinking about the effects alcohol before, watching that certainly did the job.

Still, his obvious drinking habit aside, Cure couldn't help but find him rather attractive. His angular face and high cheekbones and long dark red hair... Well, she had always had a soft spot for men with long dark hair, (thanks to master Oropher). And his eye... She could have sworn she saw bits of gold embedded in that stunning blue-green iris. She would have very much liked to see him with both those eyes intact...

Cure had to stop her mind from wandering with a jerky shake of her head. He was speaking to her, but she only heard the last part:

"Why don't ya take a seat, ma'am. It's lonely drinking alone... And it must be lonely sittin' at the bar like that..."

He kicked the chair across from him aside for her to sit in and said something about not biting.

"No thank you," Cure answered as promptly and politely as she could. Handsome though he was, he was still a stranger, and, like most men, seemed to have only one thing on his mind. She inclined her head and left with that said, heading back up the stairs to the inn.

She returned only a few minutes later with a packed brown satchel around one shoulder, and a small handful of gold pieces in her fist. "Thank you for your hospitality," she said softly to the bartender, who eyed her suspiciously as she set the money down on the counter in front of him. He nodded in approval at the amount, though refused to speak to her. Apparently he wasn't about to forgive her for taking the sailor's side during their small spat.

Having paid for her stay, Cure turned and headed for the door... And couldn't stop herself from giving the sailor one last, curious glance on her way out.

[Ulrich Gestrin Von Waldrom]

~ Several Hours Later ~

The cheap wine had run out around the same time as the innkeepers patience, Ulrich smiled with a bit of satisfaction remmbering the good ole' brawl he'd stirred up as he was thrown from the inn... Oh yes several drunks cussing and swinging their hands about like windmills, knocking eachother around as they atempted to revenge upon a few kicks of Ulrich's own... After a few minuets they'ed forgotten about him and went at eachother, and the innkeeper struggling to toss them out... After starting the rukus Ulrich had slipped off into the crowded streets, his purse heavy with coin he'd swiped from the behind the bar while the innkeeper wrestled with the men... He'd left behind only the proper amount to pay for his drink (he'd sleapt on the table) and then set off, confident that the suspision would be pulled from him as he moved down the crowded streets with the strange rolling gait of the sea...

Oh yes... What to do now? The buzz from the cheap wine had already faded, replaced with a mild thrum in the back of his head... It wasent discomforting, indeed it felt more like he was at home like this, of course if he was at home he'd smell the salt in the air and feel the icy winds across his cheeks, but he could imagine the essentials of the illusion...

His studded eye-patch caught the light and twinkled in the sun, makeing it look as if his left eye were made of highly polished gems instead of simply not existing... The studs sparkeled and shone with rainbow light, polished in various types of oils to reflect the light, oh how he loved the distraction... Distraction was the name of a game for a pirate... Rarely did their ships have the capabilities to strike at larger vessels... Rarely did their crews outnumber the opponents. They were the kings of the sea and they did everything in their power to keep it that way... Well... That and Ulrich just liked to look a bit flashy.

But he wasent near the sea... He wasent at home... Not even the blasted headache was as good as it was on the coast!

Turning a corner he kicked small stone looking down at the ground... What was the use? How would he ever find the varden like this?

[cure]

Being in Aberon, Ulrich really didn't have to look as far for the Varden as he probably thought. He just had to listen carefully.

"The Varden? Why yes Miss, I can tell you were they are," said the silky voice of a nearby jewelry merchant. He was selling pendents and broaches in the crowded open air market, and was speaking in hushed tones to a young lady with mousy brown hair.

"It's the infirmary I'm most interested in. Could you give me directions?" she asked, sounding quite businesslike... and slightly weary.

"But of course," the merchant said with a grin that was a little too sly for comfort. "Just allow me one moment to lock this merchandise up, and I'll take you to them myself."

"Directions should suffice, thank you. I don't want to take up your time," the girl answered as politely as she could, but the weariness and hint of suspicion in her voice were clear now.

"I insist," the merchant said kindly as he put his jewelry away in a tough wood and metal chest. "The Varden soldiers around here are unruly men, even in the infirmary. A lovely young lady such as yourself should not be unaccompanied around them..."

After locking the chest and stowing it under his seller's stand and away from public sight, he pulled the hood of his tattered brown cloak over his greying hair and briskly stepped around the stand. Without a word, he placed a hand on the girl's back and gently guided her away. She didn't look pleased about it one bit.

"Sir, I assure you, directions would be-ah!"

She let out a soft exclamation as the merchant pushed her a little harder in the back and steered her down a shady alleyway.

[Ulrich Gestrin Von Waldrom]

Ulrich nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a farmilier voice not far away, oh yes... A voice he'd only met once, but a voice he hadent had enough time to forget... Talking about a subject he could never forget even if he tried. The varden...

"The Varden? Why yes Miss, I can tell you were they are,"

Oh yes... Perfect, his wonderous eye setteled on the girl and the jewler, a small smirk splitting his face... This was better than perfect, this was providence.... He dident even bother to listen to the rest of the conversation as he saw the two slip off, the man pushing the girl ahead of him downt he alley... He slipped thorugh the crowd swiftly shouldering a package bearer aside roughly, knocking him into the dusty street... It was the only mark of his passing... Seconds later he was down the alley and after the two... Hey... Even if it was just a farce and this guy had something else planned for the girl... He could just kill them both and take their money... Win-win both ways...

[cure]

The shady alley Cure was being involuntarily led down was quickly turning into a dark maze of mud-brick buildings, some of which were so tall barely any of the desert sunlight filtered through. Her heart began to race as a grim realization settled in her mind. This suspicious merchant wasn't going to lead her to the Varden, was he?

She tried to stop and turn around, saying, "Really sir, directions-" but he grabbed her shoulder, forced her back around, and pushed her to keep her moving forward.

"If I hear one more word about directions, you'll have this sticking out you."

Instead of his rough hand this time, Cure felt something cold and sharp poking her in the back and went numb with fear... but she kept walking.

A million plots and plans to escape screamed between her ears. They turned a corner, and the shadows intensified. She tried to recall the words of the Ancient Language, but the rising fear was creating a wall in her mind, blocking her from grasping them. Her Master's falcon was still absent, probably still hunting, and without the Ancient Language she couldn't call to him for help. She had the daggers in her boots, but what good where they if the merchant already had the upper hand? And she hardly knew how to handle them. She had a better chance of getting them taken away and being used against her than being able to defend herself with them!

They turned another dark corner and reached a dead end; a mud-brick wall too high and smooth to climb over. The merchant shoved Cure into it. Terrified now, she turned around to face him and pressed herself against it, wishing she could just sink into the wall and disappear. What the hell were those magic words?! Why couldn't she remember them?! She spoke the language fluently with Master Oropher, so what was going on?!

"Please, I'm only a healer!" she cried, her voice trembling as the man advanced on her without a word. "Take my money, please, just don't... J-just... Take me to the Varden infirmary so I may heal the soldiers..."

Her voice grew weak with that last sentence as tears blurred her vision. She knew there was no way he would do as she asked, but she couldn't help begging... She was too scared to think of anything else to do or say...

[Ulrich Gestrin Von Waldrom]

Hmph! Win-win indeed... Ulrich had almost lost the two wheedling through the dark alleys, but somehow he'd managed to keep his eye on them, every step makeing ti more and more unlikely he was actualy going to end up being led to the varden and more and more likely that this girl had gotten her-self in serious trouble... Not that he cared, the man seemed to be a jewlery, undoubtably he had a tidy sack of money at his waist and a tidy set of wares in the box he'd saw him lock up when he'd first guided the girl into the alleys, he'd just take the key then take that to.

Licking his lips with anticipation Ulrich dropped into a low crouch, skirting the shadows, a small smirk on his lips as he saw the dull glint of steel in the man's hand... Oh yes... This was working out better and better by the second... Contrary to popular belif, it was far better to kill your victim when he wasent looking you square in the eye, dishonorable maybe... But then, since when could a man buy spirits or women with honor? Maybe in the day's of the riders but no more. Even if the older man wouldent last a minuete against his fierce blade, it's always best to be cautious... You never know whose blade might be poisened, who might have an enchanted weapon hidden in their boot... Such things can make the weakest of men dangerous... Or the strongest men even moreso.

He had to stiffle his chuckle as he moved a hand down to finger the moore-ing hachet at his side, it was small and easily handled in such close quraters, not to mention more lethal than the poinard shoved through the other side of his belt... Thus the logical choice and he had an idea just where he was going to aim to.

Slowing to a crawl he creapt along, his eye flicking to the girl as she was shoved against the wall... Oh yes, stupid girl...

[cure]

The merchant appeared not to notice Cure's pleas... or Ulrich slowly but surely sneaking up behind them. Instead, he grabbed a chunk of her long hair with one hand and held his crooked blade up to her throat with the other to shut her up. She went rigid with fear, but couldn't find a way to stop herself from breathing so rapidly.

"A healer, eh?" he asked smoothly, and slowly let go of her hair and ran his hand gently across her face, wiping a tear away with his thumb. Cure wanted to bite it off, but if she moved even in the slightest, she'd cut her neck against the cold sharp steel. He continued to move his hand down her face, then the side of her neck, her collarbone, then her chest where it lingered a moment, then her waist, and finally settled at her hip, where her pale skin was exposed because of the slits in her dress.

She felt hot breath and chapped lips against her ear as he leaned closely into her and whispered, "Perhaps you can help to heal this lust I'm feeling."

Cure wasn't very sure of what happened next or why she was suddenly able to react the way she did. She yelped as the merchant's rough hand grabbed at the flap of her vest and yanked it open, ripping the buttons right out of the buttonholes. He then went for her belt, struggling a moment to undo the large buckle with one hand. It was half way undone when Cure finally shouted a defiant, "No!" and promptly kneed him in the stomach. When he buckled over and stumbled back, she pushed herself away from the wall and tried to run, but he grabbed her wrist at the last second and threw her back down in the corner. It was a good attempt at escaping, but it wasn't good enough.

"Ya little wench!" the merchant shouted, his mask of false kindliness now completely removed. He raised his knife hand and slashed at Cure mercilessly, and she screamed as it sliced the skin just under her collarbone. That seemed to shut up any more protests she may have had left in her. Her situation seemed hopeless indeed.

[Ulrich Gestrin Von Waldrom]

Fairy-tales... Story books... A grandmother telling a story in front of a fire... All of stories of this ilk end in the same way.

The hero, tall, proud and strong taps the offender upon the shoulder, the man turns without thinking to attack... And he is honorably run through, the damsel is saved and sets off on an adventure for the ages. Sadly, there would be no hero for this girl... No savior, the wings of angels upon his back, no knight bearing a shineing sword... No bright light telling her all would be well. Indeed, nothing like that exists in the world... By definition, the good and the pure... They are victims. Once you take your first life, you cease to be pure. Once you gaze into the abyss, once it's eye's fix upon your soul, you cease to be good. There are no *good* heros, takeing a life is wrong... It is evil... The only difference between the hero's from the stories and the men they slay... Is the fact one is protrayed as just, the other unjust. A crude circle, the hero one day is the villain the next.

But then... Then there are the men who are honest with this worldy fact, feeding off the blood of the weak and poisening the strong, they to can be the heros... Depending on the story.

A new tale begins!

Ulrich smirked, pulling the axe free from it's greased belt loop, perfectly silent... He licked the edge, it was time for killing... God he hadent felt like this in months! His body trembled, adrenaline pounded thorugh his veins... This was it, this was the moment! He rocked back on his heels for a moment, a feirce cheshire grin splitting his face... He imagined himself onboard his ship, ready to leap onto a merchent vessel to claim it's cargo as his own... Then he did it... Rolling forward he shot off, hanging low to the ground to avoid any swing the man might toss, for he was silent no longer... The hachest struck sparks from the flint embeded stones of the back alley, his hobnail boots doing likewise, if the man turned all he would see was air...

All he would feel was the hachet swing up into his groin, it was sharp, the man would die quick... But painfully... His pelvis would split... His bowls would slip out, horribly grusome, but the most effective way to drop any man...

The hachet would be wrenched free as the man fell, carlessly flinging blood at the no doubt piss-pants terrified girl... Ahhh... Life was good!


(That whole last bit was of course if the attack hit... Whitch i have no doubt it would... But im being fair and leaving it up to you since it is your npc... ;0 )

[cure]

Trembling, Cure slowly looked up at the sound of pounding boots. Her teary eyes widened at the sight of sparks grinding off the stone wall, illuminating a dark figure with a hatchet running low to the ground. He had the most frightening grin, but... Such a beautiful color in his eye.

The merchant spun around, the and man with the hatchet sprang to attack, and Cure held her breath.

Before she realized it, blood was spewing in every direction. The man with the hatchet hadn't give the merchant enough time to counter his attack, and sliced him clean open from the pelvis up. Cure watched in horror as he ripped the hatchet up and out of the merchant's body, spraying droplets of blood everywhere as the merchant cried out in pain. She had to cover her face to keep his blood from raining down into her eyes.

A moment later, she heard the thud of the merchant's body as it flopped over and hit the blood soaked ground, and listened as he let out an agonized moan. The attack hadn't killed him, but he was as good as dead... as he probably would be after Ulrich got the information on the Varden's whereabouts out of him, but Cure didn't know this. In fact, as she uncovered her eyes and saw the two men, one lying in a mangled heap and the other standing over him, she had no idea what to think. It had all happened too fast.

Her eyes wandered from the groaning merchant to the hatchet in the other man's hand, staring as it dripped with fresh blood. She then looked up at the man's face, and gasped as the faint sparkle of a rhinestones embedded in an eye-patch glittered back at her. It was the handsome sailor she met earlier in the bar...

[Ulrich Gestrin Von Waldrom]

Yes yes... Any sensible man would indeed have gotten information in the poor man's final moments, Ulrich however... Was far from any sensible man... Indeed, he seemed quite insensible at the moment, his good eye fixed now upon the mans intended victim, a smile... A suductivly satisfied smirk, played across his lips as he shifted the eye back across the slowly dyeing man... Calmly he knealt down the hachet set aside as he expertly searched the man, rolling him over roughly as he fished out a bag of crowns and a small key... The pirate... He was even whistling faintly as he worked, as if the murder had put him in a good mood.

"Well well... I wonder what a blightler like you was a'doin pullin somethign like this... What a little chit!" He chuckled givving the key a light toss as he rolled the dieing man over, much to his painful dismay, just to jeer at him... "Should'a known better mate... Took her to a building... Not some back alley... Dragon-dung!" He chuckled again as he pushed himself to his feet, not before wipeing the axe off on the man who with a trembling hand and darkning eye's put a hand out to grab at his pants, as if it would somehow allow him to maintain his grip on life... With a swift contemputuous jerk Ulrich's leg was freed... His attentino turned to the would-be-victim... The same smile plastered across his face... "Ello..." He purred softly stepping on the mans still vainly outstreached hand just as the life finaly left him.

[cure]

Cure stared cautiously back as the sailor grinned at her, then watched quietly as he turned his attention back to the merchant. He knelt and searched his tattered robes, picking out his money and keys... and he was... whistling? Well yes, Cure supposed he deserved some sort of reward for saving her, but this... this was a bit odd.

"Well well... I wonder what a blighter like you was a'doin pullin' somethin' like this? What a little chit! Shoulda' known better, mate. Took her to a building, not some back alley... Dragon-dung!"

She looked away as the sailor wiped his bloody hatchet on the merchant's clothes and jeered at him. It wasn't that she couldn't bring herself to watch - it was just that the fear numbing her body was now subsiding, and trying to stand after an ordeal like that was proving to be harder than she anticipated. Not to mention the pain coming from the bleeding slit above her chest felt worse with every throb of her heart. As she pushed herself up against the wall and slowly stood, she began to recall the words of the Ancient Language she would need to heal herself with...

But before that, she could also heal...

Cure looked up just in time to meet the sailor's gaze as he murmured a soft, "'Ello," and stepped on the dying merchant's hand. The sight helped her to find her voice again.

"Wait... Don't do that."

Swallowing dryly, she straightened herself out and slowly stepped closer to the merchant. She knelt down and rolled him over on his back, not in the same way the sailor had, but gently to keep from hurting him anymore than necessary... although he was already unconscious and fading fast. Her eyes were fixed on the glistening blood outlining the deep, vertical cut up the front of his body - a sight that would have made most women her age swoon. Most women her age wouldn't even think of doing what she was about to do either...

As she spoke the words of the Ancient Language in her head, Cure placed her hands over the top of the wound on the merchant's body. A faint white glow shined beneath her palms as she began to slowly move them down along the cut. She felt the energy required for the spell drain from her body as the merchant's torn veins and ripped tissues reattached themselves together again, leaving behind only a thin scar hidden beneath a layer of thin blood. When she reached his pelvis, however, she only healed the cut, leaving him completely castrated. She probably wasn't doing him a favor by letting him live after all... and she probably knew it. When she was finished she lifted her hands away and grabbed his wrist, checking his pulse. It was faint, but it was slowly growing stronger, and he was still breathing. He would live... though miserably. Especially after Ulrich went through his jewelry stores back in the market.

Although the spell left her feeling drained and even more numb than before, Cure managed to get to her feet again. However, when she tried to stand upright, she staggered as a sudden head-rush blackened her vision. Her hand rushed to her head in an attempt to steady herself, though it was already too late. Cure fainted with a light sigh, and accidentally fell against the sailor beside her.