<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/96vBEQq.png)</div><strong>Artemis "Arty" Fellbrook</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=326953.msg15652157#msg15652157)<br/><strong>HP:</strong>40 / 40<br/><strong>AC:</strong>22<strong>TAC:</strong>14<strong>FFAC:</strong>18<strong>CMD:</strong>19<strong>Fort</strong>+4<strong>Ref:</strong>+6<strong>Will</strong>+6<br/><strong>Resistances / Immunities:</strong>Acid, Cold, Electricity 5<strong>Senses:</strong>Darkvision 60 ft, Perception +10<br/><strong>Spells Remaining:</strong><em>1st:</em>8 / 8<em>2nd:</em>7 / 7<em>3rd:</em>5 / 5<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Honestly, was there any question that Arty would join the hunt? Setting aside for a moment that helping people was what he did - that his entire reason for roaming the world was to right wrongs, fight injustice and help people rebel against oppression in all its forms - anybody who knew anything about him would know that he would be on the slightest whiff of Drow activity in a heartbeat. They'd taken everything from him, after all, his life, his family, his friends, his freedom...they'd tried to destroy everything good and pure about him and had chased him to the overworld into exile and danger. Of course, not all Drow were bad people; there were plenty of lower class Drow who simply struggled for a meagre existence at the fringes of society, beneath the heels of their Noble masters. There were half-breeds and descendants and those simply unlucky enough to be born into a poor family that were pushed around and crushed into the dirt just as surely as any outsider or non-Drow, who were not inherently evil but simply made cruel and savage by circumstance. The only way to survive in such a vicious land as the Underdark as a lower-caste was to become just as savage and brutal yourself. He didn't blame them. No, he blamed the people - the<em>monsters</em>- at the top.<br/><br/>Those were the people he wanted - no, needed - to topple. Those were the people who needed to feel his wrath, and those were the people he wouldn't stop until he toppled. The people pushing down on the throats of those beneath them, the people who held whip and chain and collar against a populace with no Safeword. He tried to be cheerful and friendly and optimistic and he tried to see the best in people despite everything he'd been through; after all, if you let the darkness in, that was when they won. When the corrupted who you were and turned you bitter against the world, when they managed to harden your heart and strip the wonder from your eyes, that was just another victory he refused to give them. But for the Drow who took pleasure in torture and oppression and murder and tyranny? He held nothing but contempt and vicious wrath. He knew some might call it toxic, some might consider it unhealthy or dangerous to hold on to such vengeance in his heart...but they hadn't seen what he had. They hadn't lived what he had. If vengeance was what drove him to topple them from their thrones, then vengeance he would use.<br/><br/>So of course, upon learning of the Drow threat to the local area and the presence of a<em>second</em>slavers ring, obviously Arty made a beeline for the meeting. He'd already broken up one, after all, and he couldn't leave the area without making sure that there wasn't another one causing trouble. It might just be cutting off the symptoms of the disease, but until he got stronger that was all he could do. And if he saved even one person by attacking the ends of the tendrils of this sprawling beast, then the effort was worth it. So he attended the meeting and listened closely, face intent and focused as he took in all of the details possible. It sounded like a Drow MO - except the leaving of the husband alive, which was odd, but he supposed that an escape was possible if the Drow already had their prize - and he was eager to get to the scene of the crime in order to properly investigate. What was good, however, was that he recognised several of the bounty hunters in attendance! For one, there was Ionia and Wren, a pair of women he'd met individually in his travels and had fought alongside several times. He'd worried that he'd have to deal with this alone, but having those two backing him up? That was a welcome piece of news indeed.<br/><br/>As the meeting wound down to a close, he pushed himself out of his chair and met the pair of women in the center of the floor, practically throwing himself into a hug as he wrapped his arms around Ionia's shoulders.<strong>"Nia!"</strong>He declared with a grin, squeezing the elven woman tightly.<strong>"'S so good t' see ya again! How long's it been?"</strong>It must have been six months, at least. The last time he'd seen her, they'd helped topple a tyrannical Lord over in the River Kingdoms and install a republic in its place. They'd had to split up soon afterwards to pursue different paths, but apparently fate had smiled on them and decided to reunite them sooner rather than later. He pressed a long-overdue kiss to her lips, pressing his soft pillowy mouth against hers in a friendly, loving kiss that he'd wanted to do for months now. They'd never gotten overly frisky with each other, much to Arty's great regret, but they'd shared more than a few heavy makeout sessions, something that Arty had greatly missed during his lonely nights in the wilderness. He relished her lips for a few long moments, even going so far as to nibble at her lower one teasingly.<br/><br/>His hand slipped into her hair, feeling her silken locks running through his fingers again and let out a hum of satisfaction as he did so. Alas, he couldn't spend all day enjoying her affection, so he reluctantly pulled away with a small smile.<strong>"I managed t' hunt down that slaver ring we heard about. Just finished dealin' with 'em, actually! What a coincidence t' find ya here so soon."</strong>He gave a bright, brilliant, beaming smile, before turning his attention to Wren, another young woman he'd had the pleasure of getting to know soon after he'd escaped from the fae who'd held him captive. It had been years since he'd seen her...but he still recognised that achingly beautiful face. He disentangled himself from Ionia and pulled the swashbuckler into a hug as well.<strong>"And Wrenny! It's so good t' see ya well. Still huntin' down a handsome hunk who c'n outfence ya?"</strong>He gave her a wink as he stepped away.<strong>"I Was a bit worried I'd be doin' this on my own, but havin' you two here...it does my heart good. Y' have no idea how much I missed you two."</strong><br/><br/>He turned towards Sabian, opening his mouth to speak; there were several questions left to answer, several things that at least needed to be said. If anybody else knew the route, for example, when and where the attack was, any details about the ambush, whether he was injured past what he'd already divulged, if anything other than his wife had been taken, that sort of thing. Basic details for building a story and later reference. He'd learned that kind of suspicion in his latest escapade, when it turned out that a local noble had been behind the targeted abduction of his citizens by feeding information on dissidents to a local Drow crimelord. He'd paid good coin for that consultation, and it had been worth every penny...not least of all because it ended up in an exceptionally fun night with a man who was both grim and rugged and grittily sexy as hell who needed to unwind. Sure, he was scarred and grizzled and not what some people might consider handsome...but that was why Arty liked him. He had that weathered, experienced look to him. The look that said he'd seen the world, he'd experienced it first hand, he was worldly and wise and knew his shit. And there was nothing sexier than competence.<br/><br/>Plus, his voice! Hearing it moaning his name, hearing it growling for him to take it like the little slut he was...the memory alone sent happy shudders down his spine. If he was being truthful, he craved Mirk's hands on his body again soon, and it had only been maybe eight hours since they'd been grabbing at him last! What had he been thinking about again? Oh, right! The fact that Mirk had taught him some important questions to ask, and that it never hurt to be suspicious of even the person making the request. Lies could get convoluted, after all, and it was important that you got everybody to commit to as many details as possible so you could catch them out with it later. Mirk might not be a diplomatic sort, but his tongue was just as clever as an emissary's in more ways than one. So caught up in his memories of Mirk from the previous few weeks was he that when he heard that familiar gravelly voice echoing across the room, he almost thought he imagined it. He blinked, looking around sharply, looking for that familiar looming, lurking form with his grave expression, his scarred face, his dour look and his oh so achingly rugged, well-worn armour.<br/><br/>Sure enough...there he was. He'd seemingly appeared from nowhere, melting out of the side of the room and emerging from the milling crowd to give Sabian his customary third degree interrogation. Oh, the way he held himself when dealing with a suspect, the way his voice rumbled from his lungs with such confidence and authority...Arty could almost hear an echo of all the things he'd ordered him to do last night, and his knees went admittedly a little weak. He grinned, turning back to Ionia and Wren, clapping his hands happily.<strong>"Oh! I know him! He looks scary, but believe me, he knows his stuff!"</strong>He laughed softly.<strong>"He helped me destroy that slavers ring! Then I took him out for a drink and got him to destroy <em>my</em> ring, too."</strong>He gave them both a salacious, filthy wink, accompanied by an almost evilly mischievous chuckle.<strong>"I'll be right back!"</strong>he declared, before bounding off in a happy skip to skirt the edge of the room.<br/><br/>He came up to where Mirk was standing like a blurring red hurricane - from the front rather than from behind; he'd learned his lesson the first time! - and launched himself into the older man's arms, throwing his hands around Mirk's broad, powerful shoulders. Bending his knees, Arty lifted his lower legs up so that he was left dangling from Mirk's body as he buried his face in the crook of Mirk's shoulders.<strong>"Daddy!"</strong>He declared with a loud, teasing laugh.<strong>"You're taking the job too? That's awesome!"</strong>He grinned to himself, lifting his head up to press his lips against Mirk's scarred cheek. He knew the older man was sensitive about it, which was why Arty made damn sure to show it just as much affection as the rest of him whenever he had the chance!<strong>"I was just thinking 'bout how much I'd love t' spend some more quality time wit' y'."</strong>He let out the statement in a whispering almost-purr directly into Mirk's ear.<strong>"Sounds like th' Gods heard my fervent fantisin', eh?"</strong><br/><br/>He paused for a moment, then realised with a belated flush of embarrassment that he'd just interrupted Mirk's interrogation. He turned his head to look at Sabian as casually and matter of factly as he could, then back at Mirk.<strong>"Oh! Right! Sorry, Daddy. Don't mind me."</strong>He gave Mirk a teasing, flirtatious smile, then lifted his legs up to hook around Mirk's waist. Once he was securely fastened, he dropped his body low and ducked beneath Mirk's arm, his hands shifting and scrambling for purchase as he pulled his lower body around his Daddy's waist as if he were climbing a pillar of rock, or a climbing frame or something. After a few moments of scrambling, chaotic repositioning, his legs ended up locked around the front of Mirk's waist, his body pressed up against his back and his face resting happily over his shoulder. One hand lay draped over his chest, the other idly playing with the edge of Mirk's bandana.<strong>"Right! What're you waitin' for? Work your magic, babe."</strong>He gave Mirk a grin, then fixed Sabian with his best intimidating glare. Granted, it likely didn't do much given that he was now being given a piggy back, but...well, it was better than nothing, right?