<div class="floatleft">(http://i247.photobucket.com/albums/gg142/ElectricBadger/cosplay__elf_ducan_by_yuegene-d4q4lvw_zpsdeb3f09e.jpg)   </div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Nys &amp; Olivia Vendatti</span><br/>Blanqua Transmuter 5 & Raven Familiar (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=1124844)<br/><hr/><br/>Nys narrowed his eyes at the old crone, gauging her intent carefully.  He kept his features plain; a single tell would tip the balance of this contest in her favor.  Her nose twitched, a massive wart bouncing, its tuft of protruding whiskers waving.  A crack in her defenses!  He moved quickly, mercilessly for the coup de grace.  "You'll not have me that easily, Green One!  Another thimble-full of-"<br/><br/>Olivia made a noise of pure frustration from the pantry, where she had disappeared a few minutes ago in search of dried fruit.  "Just trade the thrice bedamned cloth, master!  You two have been at this for an hour and I am going to throw something at you if I hear another word."<br/><br/>Glancing toward the doorway, Nys responded in a suffering tone.  "These are complicated negotiations for the good of the clan, darling, and must be taken seriously.  Even a small-"<br/><br/>The bird stuck her head out of the door; she was in her two-legged form for the moment, doubtless for the use of her hands to open jars.  "The honey is not for the clan!  Stop wasting gran's time so she can help me find the cherries."  She stuck out her tongue before ducking back into the pantry.<br/><br/>Nys frowned.  It was true; perhaps he'd gotten carried away.  He eyed the mason jar filled with dreams; it looked humble enough, weathered and marked with an oil-stick in Meg's shaky hand.  It had also been set on the trading table some time ago, balanced against the gleaming folds of woven mithril House Vendatti had to offer.  Around it lay more mundane jars - the crone was an avid maker of preserves when not sneaking into human villages to steal dreams - as well as various bric a brac and even a few coins from Nys' pockets.  But the blackberry honey was only in season for a short time and five jars would hardly last more than- He looked again.  There were only four jars!  Meg gave him an innocent smile...well, as innocent as a swamp-witch could manage.   Her sharpened teeth and large jaw could devour a human child in two bites.  When he drew in breath to complain, she darted a pointed glance in Olivia's direction.  Nys quieted.  His familiar probably wasn't joking about throwing things and frequently overestimated his ability to dodge hard objects.  He held up a hand, splaying the fingers.<br/><br/>Meg held up her own, tucking in a crooked thumb with a broken, hooked nail so that only four fingers were extended, her eyes filled with mirth.<strong>"Be right there, sweetie,"</strong>she called out in a sing song, harshly at odds with her toad's voice,<strong>"once Lord Vendatti is reasonable."</strong>With a sullen grunt, Nys nodded his head, agreeing to the exchange.  The witch immediately began scooping up her new gains with what could only be described as a cackle.  Once the items were dumped into a cabinet Meg sorted through the jumble of clutter on the heavy wooden block that served as a side table.  Apple peels, tobacco and a pipe, a half dozen rusted, wicked-looking daggers and polished bones.  She snatched a jar from the center of the mess.<strong>"Silly me, dearie, they were out here this whole time...."</strong>She winked a yellow eye at Nys, who gave a mock glare as he acknowledged her clever ploy.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xaf1/t31.0-8/s960x960/291116_297171270294600_935507595_o.jpg)   </div>Olivia appeared immediately, flitting around the corner in a flurry of black feathers, alighting on Meg's arm as a bird and transforming there again to snatch the jar from the hag's hand with a squeal of cherry-induced glee.  Even her full weight barely lowered Meg's wiry limb, so massive was the witch.<br/><br/>"Manners," Nys muttered, in the tone of one who's tried to instill discipline for years and held no hope of success, but wasn't willing to quit trying entirely.  He gathered up the jars as the women ignored him, turning their talk to the last harvest.  Nys was packing the horses when the message came, a crisp sheet of paper in a brass tube, tied carefully to the neck of a vixen enchanted for the task.<br/><br/>He took care to look the creature over for injuries, fetch it some water and even deposited a dazed mouse from one of Meg's plentiful jars before pulling off the tube and ending the enchantment.  Freed, the fox gave a quick yip and darted into the underbrush after the grey rodent.  A stand of ferns rustled with the frenzy of a successful hunt as Nys examined the letter, unsurprised to find it came from one of the local blanqua factors.  A brow raised the further he read; it was passed along by a string of disinterested bureaucrats in the High King's court who, normally at pains to state their importance, had declared themselves too humble of skill to deal with an event involving the legendary - and deadly - ebony mist.  As one of the few aristocrats willing to leave the mountains, it fell to Nys to represent clan and House.<br/><br/>"It seems we've a journey ahead...."<br/><br/>A day later Nys entered the captain's office, an amiable smile on his lips and a black raven with a single right mithril feather riding his shoulder.