The tall, dark-haired fellow with the Tymoran symbol sat contemplatively on the orchard bench, gazing up at the standing Cecily. He smiled faintly and knowingly. "Your ready pose suits you well, but you've little to fear from me just now, whether that comes as relief or disappointment to you, m'lady. I bear only the message of a challenge. I shall attempt brevity, and if your interest be piqued, expound further - to the limited extend of what I know."<br/><br/>"I hail from fair Arabel, an ever restless city which as you may know as regretfully rebelled against the crown time and time again over the thirteen Obarskyr-reigned centuries Cormyr has enjoyed. The late king's death has rekindled all too many restless revolutionary feelings - or so rumors have it, most pervasively and in great number. This has dampened trade and profit; and temples, so reliant on the generosity of those with the coin to spare, are hard-squeezed. The Lady of Luck's is no exception; such is weal and woe, and I mean not to complain, for what could be a better testament to the threads of luck which govern our world, but simply to explain how the following situation came about.'<br/><br/>"Our very temple grounds are, perhaps unwisely, collateral against debt we must needs took. The creditor, apparently, has proved not particularly savory, and far too creative for my tastes in proposing alternate means of recompense. You may know that Tymoran initiates typically undergo initiations which vary in nature, and tend to involve submitting oneself to chance of one kind or another. It seems our creditor is in turn somehow owned by a dragon who dwells in the foothills to the north, who has bade as follows: if we cannot otherwise pay off our debts, we must at intervals choose initiates whose trial will be to go to this dragon, and be its...well, harem-slaves for a time, for it seems the creature desires to create half-breed spawn among the race of men. And so, quite simply, I have gone from town to town trying to take the measure of those with the glint of adventure in their eyes. in the hope of finding and setting some heroes against such a beast as this."<br/><br/>~~<br/><br/>The garrulous man stroked his chin thoughtfully. "No, I could not be sure that it was acid, or that it was other than an illusion at all, come to think upon it. I do suppose 'twould be smart for a dragon to put about that its nature was other than it was, so that would-be slayers might cast the wrong sorts of protections, spells against acid rather than fire and so forth. You might ask around if any others have reported such sightings or encounters, or once you near where I understand its lair to be, stake out and hope to watch it go hunting or somesuch ere it espies you...or perhaps you know some priestly divinations of use." HE shrugged and scratched his head. "Aye, to gather others with you for such an endeavor sounds wise. In any case, I shall sleep much better in the future knowing you mean to deal with it!" He followed Randal's gaze back thoughtfully across the chamber.<br/><br/>The redheaded twins had been nodding along with him, after one smiled at Arivel, "Aye, there are several taverns about town too, where you might find those of courage to match your own."<br/><br/><br/>~~<br/><br/>"Of course, "The blonde kneeling in the warm water of the copper tub nodded, "I shall get myself properly wet for you, the better to be lathered." Drawing cupped handfuls of warm water up across her upper body and rubbing the tan skin until it glistened, she gazed daydreamily into the little dancing fireplace while Dev'lan freed himself. When the elf spoke again, she nodded and her upper body swayed about as she turned bodily on her hips and haunches to face him.<br/><br/>Her eyes were still half-lidded from her daydreaming moments, and she stopped suddenly with a gasp at a feel of a firm slapping against her cheek. Her green eyes flew wide, and she gazed up Dev'lan's bared chest and along the distinctive scar. Her had flew reflexively to her own cheek, where she realized she now cupped the elf's engorged length between her palm and the cheek she'd slapped against him. "Forgive me, m'lord!" she gasped with a quiet, but somewhat unserious and playful giggle. She slowly drew her face back, rubbing along him, until her face was before him, gazing up, her breath warm against him as her lips opened again to speak. "I was thoughtless of your...masculine differences, and how you might extend over the tub so."