<strong>Leander</strong><br/><br/>Gradually, Leander was left alone with a quartet of the natives. He was being tended by the apparent healers of the tribe; the short-haired girl, the woman with painted squares upon her nose and cheeks, and a the oldest among them, a woman no more than thirty who was directing their efforts. A fourth attendant, with a piercing through her nose, took his scythe away and set it down against one of the stone walls.<br/><br/>They were all topless, clad only in loincloths and leather bandings, nubile and athletic as befitting their environment. They all seemed to have discarded their weapons, if they carried them as habitually as the other painted warriors of the tribe. When his own clothing was removed, the breastplate was taken away to a corner of the room by the oldest woman, and along with it the glamer that gave him the illusion of ordinary clothing. When it faded, they all gasped and stifled laughs amongst themselves. One of the younger girls giggled and pointed at his chest to garner the others' attention.<br/><br/>She rubbed her palm over his bare breast, sampling its texture with amusement. Another finger pointed towards his navel, eliciting a few stares and playful mumbling before a single fingertip dragged across the space between his belly button and genitals, the girls taking a keen interest in Leander's distinct lack of body hair, owing partly to his elven heritage and the man's own maintainence. The fact that his most intimate parts were no exception was not lost upon them.<br/><br/>When the apparent chief healer of the attendants returned, she snapped them back to professionalism and got his arm and thigh bandaged up. One of them inspected the wound he received from the javelin, and seemed to recognize where it came from. Seeing this, another girl went away to fetch some supplies as the one inspecting his injury started explaining it to their supervisor. She tilted her head curiosly in response, but shook away her doubts.