Calaerwen could feel the uncomfortable tension of too many thoughts building behind her temples. Her head seemed to pound with every heart beat, like the two pernicious organs were conspiring to to this to her poor skull. Ducking into an alley way for a chance to close her eyes, Cal glanced into the crowd just as the dark haired girl turned around<span style="font-style: italic">again</span>. Did she have some bloody<span style="font-style: italic">sixth sense</span>? Cal had only been following her a few minutes, and had nearly been caught<span style="font-style: italic">six</span>times. The red head was not really liking Goldenburgh much at all.<br/><br/>Then, quite clearly, she caught a thought.<span style="font-style: italic">”Take out the merchant and the mercenary, then find a place to law low until morning. Meet up with the others at the stables tomorrow. Shouldn't be too hard." </span><br/><br/>In the accompanying picture, Cal saw two green-draped backs standing before the man, as well as a swords woman she recognized from earlier. These were undoubtably the men she had been hunting down. These were the murderers. Cal shuddered even as a hot anger filled her gut. This man’s thoughts were cold, completely devoid of feeling in a way she had never felt before. This man had indecently murdered innocent people with no contrition, no remorse; only cold hard and calculating logic. Suddenly, Cal decided she liked most humans, loud as they were, because most of them could feel so vividly. The Altari girl almost welcomed the cacophony as she threw herself into action.<br/><br/>Abandoning her pursuit, Cal sprinted for the door of the merchant’s shop where she knew the green cloaked men to be, muttering incantations under her breath that would allow her to manipulate the gravity around her if need be. After a day like today, she would only have one good pulse. Cal fervently hoped it would be enough.<br/><br/>The red head had just finished the longest of the spells when she collided with a young Alftar man. Cursing in a most unladylike way, she shouted<span style="color: #0040FF">“sorry”</span>in the language of her homeland, and kept going. The door was in sight, and in seconds her spells had been cast.<br/><br/>Cal crowed triumphantly as she entered the shop with both of her long knives drawn. She plunged one of them into the heart of the nearest green cloaked man, the one who’s thoughts she had heard, and yelled,<span style="color: #4040FF">“Die, murderer!”<br/></span><br/>He did.<br/><br/>And then, chaos erupted.