We rejoin Ilira on the barrier isle of Altaira, where she has found the burning watchtower, made a squirrel friend, and then found a small encampment of two men. She's managed to seduce the first and slither up a tree where she'd be out of arm's length of him.

Right now, he's peering up at her curiously - really he couldn't keep his eyes off of her especially at such an angle. Was this a tree climbing angel? He must have thought so.

Meanwhile the squirrel has dutifully brought Ilira a present, sensing competition. A rather large, perfect acorn and is placed right in her hand if he was allowed close enough.

"Oh, thank you, little one!" Ilira's smile spreads like sunlight as she turns her palm up to the squirrel, then brushes a little pet to the top of his head with the pad of her thumb. Smoothly, she slips the acorn into her pocket and settles her gaze to the mercenaries, sleek blue beneath the dark. "You know," she muses in half a purr, "I'd have kept to myself and the trails--tough as that is for me--but that's made difficult when smoke is choking the air! What may I say? I'm a curious cat." Her lips curve, her body arching in a stretch. "The choice is yours, sirs, to tell me or not. However," she smiles down as her eyes flicker, "your reticence does raise suspicions. Why would you be so, if not the arsonists?"

The squirrel sits up and if you didn't know any better, looked rather proud of himself, with his fuffed up chest.

As for Ark, the smitten mercenary, he gives a sidelong glance to the newly arrived man and back to Ilira, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well.. aye. Er. We been hired to make some havoc here, and this here is the distraction." He juts a weathered thumb over his shoulder to the burning watchtower.

Art, the other man that had just arrived huffs, nostrils flaring. "Ye fool. Now we gotta kill her!" And with that, he draws his crossbow.

Ilira regards Art with a slight tilt of her head, cheek propped on her palm. "Why's that, sir?" As the light bathes her, she glows like a pearl, sparkles of red through her hair and a sheen of gold on her skin. "Do I seem a threat, to you?" In a subtle gesture, her hand covers the squirrel's body. "I am inclined to speak, not slay."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Ilira before departing.

Iseulet GM Roll checked dex(3) + archery(4) at difficulty 15, rolling 32 higher.

Iseulet GM Roll checked dex(2) + dodge(2) at difficulty 47, rolling 31 lower.

"Well, not to me..." Begins the sheepishly smitten Ark, tearing his eyes away from Ilira to settle on the man that's stepping forward with the crossbow. "You can't do that! She's just as pretty as a--"

"What do you think she'd fall in love with an ugly little scab like you?" Bites Artyom back. Oh yes, these two must have been brothers. Only brothers can fight like this.

"No but she's innocent, just look there, she's just a woman with a squirrel!"

Artyom takes exception to this and with a feral growl turns the crossbow on the disfigured man and before he can do literally anything, Artyom fires off an arrow.

Ilira checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 25, rolling 26 higher.

The sing and glint of steel arcs down across the string of Art's bow, Ilira's motion a shimmer in the background. "Unnecessary," her voice sounds, just behind him as her grip tightens on his elbow. "Is he not your kin? You would slay him, for his mercy on a girl alone in the forest? Face me." She spins him, her gaze lifted in a stare that burns. "I am still curious--what else can you tell me, about this tower that burns at our backs?" As she speaks, her blade glides against the line of his collarbone to the throat.

Ilira checked charm + intimidation at difficulty 15, rolling 11 higher.

Artyom's arrow flies wide, missing Arkadiy's head with mere inches and he's turning and growling at her like he was some rabid dog. "He disobeyed orders." Though, his expression begins to change. His nostrils flare and he's panting for breath, his pupils wide. "He didn't learn his lesson the first time when he disobeyed orders for a pretty face." He spits out, gaze flickering to the watchtower. "It is what he said it was." That is, a distraction.

"And what," Ilira asks, blade pressing, "does it distract from?" She holds his gaze as she speaks, clear and utterly calm. "Ark, I welcome you to pitch in with answers too, given your brother's initial reluctance." On her toes, she murmurs lower to the man in her grasp, "I didn't come to hurt you, mercenary. But you feel this?" A tap of the edge draws a line of blood. "And did you see how I moved, from the top of that tree there? No--I was too fast. So," she continues as a smile lilts on the corners of her lips, "I wish you to answer my questions. Will you?"

Ilira checked perception at difficulty 15, rolling 6 lower.

Iseulet GM Roll checked dexterity(3) + legerdemain(4) at difficulty 10, rolling 40 higher.

Ark does, in fact, speak up first this time. "The Island's under attack, Miss. The main island. Not this one. We are drawin' out their pissy little navy, gonna sink em and then and gonna level the city. Come with us, I'll get you outta here safe."

Art, despite his fearful response to the intimidation clams up to shoot his brother a look. He's not impressed. Not that he would or could have done any better. He grits his teeth and then the next thing Ilira knows is the twang of a bow string singing in her ears.

Iseulet GM Roll checked dexterity(3) + archery(4) at difficulty 25, rolling 10 higher.

Ilira checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 35, rolling 33 higher.

Ark does, in fact, speak up first this time. "The Island's under attack, Miss. The main island. Not this one. We are drawin' out their pissy little navy, gonna sink em and then and gonna level the city. Come with us, I'll get you outta here safe."

Art, despite his fearful response to the intimidation clams up to shoot his brother a look. He's not impressed. Not that he would or could have done any better. He grits his teeth and then the next thing Ilira knows is the twang of a bow string singing in her ears.

A flicker of metal splits the air at the snap of the string, too fast to follow as the arrow strikes it. In another flash, Ilira sweeps her second blade from her back and stabs up, through Art's throat. Both swords sing as she spins on her toes and casts her gaze across the surrounds, searching. "Help," she calls softly to Ark.

Ilira checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 20, rolling 28 higher.

Iseulet GM Roll checked dexterity(3) + dodge(3) at difficulty 48, rolling 8 lower.

The blade finds its mark in Artyom's throat, causing blood to spill from not only the wound, but his mouth which is agape in shock, eyes wide. His body goes weak and then his knees buckle, causing him to collapse onto the blood soaked ground at Ilira's feet.

Ark, very much in shock now too has to process all this. "Arty! Arty! My brother!" He manages to squawk out.

Ilira flickers a swift eye through the trees, along the bushes, then turns back to Ark with a shake of her head. "The echo," she murmurs. Each blade rests at her side in a position to deceive readiness. "Are there others with you?" she asks after a pause, calm unshaken.

He's hollow seemingly, dry mouthed and eyes glazed over. "Thousands. There are thousands." Ark manages, his voice as disconnected to his emotions as the sea is to the air. "They're going to kill every last person here if they can."

"In the immediate surrounds," Ilira adds with a touch of impatience.

Ark realizes the pointedness of her question and clams up, but shakes his head no. But this time when he looks up at her? There is hatred burning in his eyes.

Ilira checked dexterity + brawl at difficulty 15, rolling 7 higher.

Ilira kicks Ark's footing out from under him and drops a knee onto his chest, her right blade at his throat. "Tell me all you know of the fleet, or I'll send you after your brother." That implaccable calm cools her tone and her eyes, her face like marble. "Where are they positioned, and what is their plan of attack?"

Iseulet GM Roll checked dexterity(3) + dodge(2) at difficulty 22, rolling 8 higher.

She may kick, but when she sweeps her foot under him, he jumps back, again Arkadiy's face in absolute shock. How could his SWEET BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS! treat him like this?! Finally, he wisens up and turns to bolt away.

Ilira checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 25, rolling 62 higher. Ilira rolled a critical!

Ilira trains her eye on the back of Ark's right calf, just above the ankle. With a flick of her left wrist, the blade whistles as it cuts the air and sticks, point-first through its mark. As the mercenary falls and the red sprays, she drifts a few steps closer. "Ark," she begins softly, "I told you I'd a few questions--and one is foremost." She kneels beside him, her hand on the pommel of the sword. Something softens on her face, in her gaze as she regards him, his blood soaking her leather. "I will remove this," she murmurs, "and the damage won't be lasting if you find a healer soon." A velvet curl brushes his cheek as she leans to look him in the eyes. "I didn't come to hurt you, and I'll help you. But I need your answers."

The sword goes right through the calf and out the other side and as he falls, mid-stride he's pinned to the soft earth, screaming in pain and gasping for air, tearing at the ground to try to get himself up, but finds he's really nailed there, to the ground. This may be as attentive as Arkadiy gets here, given his new condition.

"Did you send--Ark, look at me," Ilira begins and snaps, more urgent than harsh as she clasps him by the wrists. "Were you or yours the ones to send the note."

Iseulet GM Roll checked stamina(2) at difficulty 25, rolling 18 lower.

He SCREAMS, "Note? What note!? You crazy b-bitch!" Ark bites back, reaching for his leg, and looking at his hand drenched in blood afterward and promptly falls unconscious from the bloos loss.

Upon Ilira's shoulder sits the squirrel wondering what all the fuss was about. Tis but a flesh wound.

Ilira watches him collapse. She lets a moment pass for his unconsciousness, then draws the blade from his leg with a spill of blood that drenches her boots. A pause lingers, her eyes on him as the silence settles, only the fire and the forest as backdrop. She exhales a breath, trembling. Her gloved hand comes up to stroke down the squirrel's spine. "I have too much mercy in me for anyone's good," she murmurs to the quiet, then bends to begin patching the wound. When adequately blotted, she steps away to swipe her satchel from the branch and draws out a length of rope. In a complex work of ties and knots, his hands are bound behind his neck and his ankles together.

Ilira checked intellect + medicine at difficulty 20, rolling 6 lower.