<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/98/Comission_pixie_by_phantagrafie-d5g4wm2.jpg)</div><strong>Fjordel "Jord" Nym</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=240762.msg11878243#msg11878243)<br/><br/>As he began to stirr, Jord gave a murr of remembered pleasure, but started to hug himself as he realized he was cold...<br/><br/>"Jia?" he whispered, "Did you steel the blankets again..."  The tiny warrior reached out for his lover--eyes still shut--to gather her in his arms for warmth--and hopefully reclaim the silk sheets and the fur that lay over them.<br/><br/>Finding nothing--and starting to realize that what he was lying on was quite a bit harder than his nice eiderdown matress--Jord's emerald eyes fluttered open.  The little elf gave a groan as he perked up, legs tugging in beneath him, dragonfly wings lifting in readiness...<br/><br/>It was dark--dim even to elven eyes.  But--despite the sensation of being rather deep underground, there<em>was</em>light.<br/><br/>And voices?<br/><br/>Jord flipped over and went low on his belly.  Glancing around, he located a length of tent pole not quite three feet long, reasonably smooth, but fractured into a respetable point at the top.  He expertly snagged it into a pikeman's grip.  A few moments later, he started catching the gist of the conversation outside.  He nodded softly and made ready to present himself.  Glancing around, he noted a jug of water a little bigger than his head and also some strips of cloth...<br/><br/>*   *   *<br/><br/>Just as the servant girl was joining the group by the slab, a resonant tenor voice piped up from one of the darkened alchoves, "Burn me!  What are these worthless<em>rags?</em>"<br/><br/>A few moments later, a faela emerged from the alcove.  Rather tall and powerfully built of the smallest of the elven races, he stood a full two feet tall.  Thick chocolate brown hair spilled over round shoulders and down his back.  He carried a improvised spear lightly in one hand.  He was nude, but had coiled up some of the scrap too loop through the ring of a small clay jug and sling it over his shoulders.  "Ahm...  I guess I should say good morning?  Call me Jord.  I gathered form the talk that you're all just as lost as I am?  And that I'm not the only one who's magic is blocked?"<br/><br/>He glanced at the big rat, then at the man who'd been handed it, "Do you know how to dress that?"