"No." Cervayhn replies in an unamused tone as walks through the streets of Darkveil, his young master’s hand held firmly in his.

“Come on, what could go wrong? It’s just some painting. It’s far safer than any other job we could take here.” Ulmiyda argues, determined to have her way.

The pair found themselves in Darkveil City once more, despite their recent experience with a particular cult in the region. While the kidnapping ultimately ended with the young dark elf uninjured, her retainer’s written silence about the whole affair had unfortunately led to him receiving more assignments in the city, much to his chagrin. Now he was stuck in a city swarming with criminals, with a child who somehow still hasn’t realized that she shouldn’t flaunt her wealth.

Ulmiyda on the other hand, was as carefree as ever. Her last venture into the city had given her a new companion as well as showing her a way to merge her flames with her scimitar. If anything, her kidnapping ended up being a net positive for the girl, despite the stress it put upon her retainer. Because of this, the girl had taken an interest in any job the city had to offer. Most of the requests were far too dangerous for Cervayhn to even entertain, but this time her curiosity was unyielding. A painter had supposedly created a world within a painting, an idea which caused the young girl’s mind to race with possibilities. Perhaps they could create a world free of cold…

“I want to get out of this city as soon as possible. This isn’t the place to look for honest work, you remember last time.” The older dark elf states as his pace quickens.

“I remember you not telling Father.” Ulmiyda replies with a malicious grin.

The older dark elf stops in his tracks at her words, looking down at the young girl with a defeated annoyance. “If this goes poorly, you’re taking a vacation back home for a month.”

The young girl gives her retainer a satisfied nod before pulling him in the direction of the painter’s residence. The trip is rather short, and they arrive at the bizarrely shaped home in under an hour. Cervayhn takes the lead as he nervously knocks on the door, waiting for a potentially threatening resident. He is taken aback as the door opens to reveal a rather drowsy fellblood, still donned in his pajamas.

“What do you want?” the resident asks groggily.

“Uhh… We are here to help the painter. The one stuck in his painting?” Cerayvhn replies, slightly confused.

“Huh? He’s on vacation. He sent me a letter with a key and some solars asking me to watch his house and to sell his most recent painting to the reserved buyer.” The fellblood replies, equally confused.

Cervayhn looks down to his master with a sigh, knowing that this job just got a lot more complicated.

---

SPOILER: Click to show

Quest Name: Paint me like one of your Sol City girls
Participants: Two or more
Location: Darkveil
Post Requirements: 5 post per person, 200 words per post
Reward: +1 Renown
Description: An ambitious painter in Darkveil has created a magical painting that allows viewers to enter the work of art. However the spell has malfunctioned, causing the artist to become trapped inside their own painting. They now need help, someone to go in, encounter the obstacles that have now come to life and save the painter from their own spell. The details and story of the painting can be entirely up to you. Have creative freedom with the story of this quest.

Just as Ulmiyda and Cervayhn heard, a painter’s spell went awry and the man was stuck in his own painting. Perrath, being the noble dragon paladin that he is, decided to look into it, and just like the two dark elves on the painter’s doorstep, was met with some excuse of the man being out on vacation. That sounded to him like a cover-up of some sort. It was bogus, to say the least. So, Perrath snuck his way inside while the dark elf visitors distracted the man at the door.

Easily enough, he exits a ground-floor window in the alley and emerges just as the dark elves finish their conversation. The dragon pauses, looks between them and the fellblood, then turns his nose up and away. “Don’t bother speaking to that one,” he says with confidence. “The painting was already sold.” Holding up a slip of paper, Perrath starts off down the street. With each step, Perrath's talons clack hollowly on the cobbles.

“No need to waste your time, elves," he announces. "I am already on the case. It will be easy enough on my own. Good luck finding something more suited to your capabilities here though. I wish you the best." 

The sudden appearance of a dragon out of the alley caused a dichotomy of reactions between the two dark elves. Their attention is immediately drawn away from the fellblood, although not because of Perrath words.

As the fellblood lazily shuts the door, seemingly unfazed by the sudden dragon, Cervayhn stands in complete stillness, seemingly frozen in place. His eyes widen as the paladin starts walking away with Ulmiyda in hot pursuit. He stares forward blankly as he contemplates the sheer depths of his utterly abysmal luck.

Oh no.
This is up there, not the worst-case scenario, but boy, is it up there. I’m losing my edge; the fiend reeks of carnage, I should have sensed him before we ever even reached the house. It probably doesn’t help that we are in the most blood-stained city in all the lands. Just… Why does the murderer have to be a dragon? Literally anything else and this wouldn’t be a problem…

As her retainer takes a moment to process his existential crisis, Ulmiyda runs after the dragon, quickly catching up to him despite their considerable difference in height. She casually walks alongside the paladin, not showing an ounce of fear from his intimidating presence. Bearing a massive grin, she leans forward and tilts her head towards Perrath as she walks, intent on grabbing the dragon's attention.

“Sorry mister dragon but we found this job first and every other job seemed boring. You’re welcome to tag along however; I have plenty of money so buying the painting off the new owner won’t be an issue.” She advances a few steps forward while turning around, walking backwards as she continues. “Do you have a ride? I’ve a carriage that will get us there quickly, it will be a bit cold though.”

The young girl doesn’t wait for the paladin’s response before looking back to her stunned retainer. “CERVAYHN, WE’RE TAKING THE CARRIAGE!”

Ulmiyda’s yelling snaps Cervayhn out of his daze. With a sigh of frustration, he quickly catches up to his young master, making sure to keep a close eye on the dragon for any sudden movements.

The quick, approaching clacking of shoes on cobbles catches Perrath’s attention, but he keeps his head forward, determined not to be deterred by a child. Still, he can’t help but notice her white hair in his peripherals. Without turning his head, Perrath cuts his eyes down to her only to see a smarmy grin on an overly confident child.

Oh, this will be fun.

“I see,” he says simply. “You plan to purchase the painting from the new owner then? I don’t imagine that will be an easy task considering the rumors I hear of the new owner.” Finally, he turns his head to look at her, a smile in his eyes just as much as it is on his face. “Since you’re offering, I will not turn down the opportunity to see you try, especially if you're putting your own coin on the line. If things go sour, we will try my approach. Deal?”

Perrath’s brow twitches when she shouts for her retainer to get the carriage. That will beat walking through the ashes, at least. A small chuckle rumbles in his throat, which he snorts away before placing his hand across his chest and inclining his head to the girl beside him. “Well met, child. I am Perrath, paladin of the moon goddess. If I may offer some advice, do not declare your riches in a place like Darkveil. Those who dwell in the shadow of Mount Drakolt will see that it becomes their own.”

“DEAL!” Ulmiyda shouts with a joyous grin. "My name is Ulmiyda, Ulmiyda Flameborne, and I’m a child!"
The young girl’s smile holds unwaveringly in the face of Perrath's gesture and warning. While the dragon wasn’t wrong to warn her of the dangers of Darkveil, her recent kidnapping had only served to further embolden her, lowering her concern towards the city's normal rabble.

“Oh you needn’t worry about those things. Last time I was here I got kidnapped! There were these crazy cult guys who wanted to throw me and another girl into the volcano to summon some god of rebirth. I don’t know what their plan was though, they seemed rather dumb; the cult was so obsessed with flames, yet its members burnt up so easily when met with actual fire.”

The girl’s eye catches what looks to be some manner of greatsword on the dragon’s person, reminding her of her own newly enchanted blade. Seeing the opportunity to show off and possibly win the dragon’s favor, the girl turns to face her retainer once more as he catches up to them. “Cervayhn, Agni please.”

The older dark elf looks at her with a confused glance momentarily before realizing what she meant. The girl had grown bizarrely attached to her father’s gift ever since she had gotten it enchanted with flames under his nose. He removes the blade still in its scabbard from his back, presenting it to his young master with an unamused expression. Knowing what comes next, the dark elf moves a few steps back from his master, all while keeping an eye on the dragon’s expression.

“I did get something out of the kidnapping though, take a look at this.”
She lifts the scabbard as high as her arms can reach, placing one hand on the hilt as she slowly unsheathes the blade. The heat of the scimitar reaches the group the instant the super heated steel leaves its restraints^[1], no doubt causing a considerable amount of discomfort to all but Ulmiyda. She continues her conversation as she stares at the blade, glowing as if freshly pulled from the forge, with an overjoyed expression.
“One of those cultists tried to end me with a blade like this. I knew I had to have it when I saw it so… I asked him nicely where he got it! He answered me, saying he would grant it as my dying wish; and then I set him on fire!”

Cervayhn looks at the girl with a stupefied expression, bewildered by the fact she purposely withheld this detail from him. That actually makes sense, of course she got the info from those cultists. Why the hells did I not think of that before?
He shakes off his bewilderment as he addresses the two of them. "If introductions are out of the way, would you kindly follow me? I’m not letting you out of my sight here, even if you have your cultist fryer.”

---

[1] Agni - Scimitar: Scalded Enchantment

This child’s confidence amuses Perrath. Her story catches his interest, and he takes note that a bit of danger has done nothing more than embolden her. If she’s not careful, she could be caught in a situation she cannot escape from so easily. The attendant following her around doesn’t seem to be much more use than a pack mule. Looks can be deceiving, but Perrath’s mind won’t change until the man demonstrates otherwise.

He does look upon her blade with great interest, watching her make a show of unsheathing the weapon. Good. She treats it with the proper reverence that one’s weapon should be treated. It is a nice blade, perfectly sized for someone like her. He wonders how skilled she is with it.

What breaks him is the absolute glee in her voice when she declares that she set the man on fire. A stifled scoff of a laugh sputters from Perrath’s scaly lips. “You set him ablaze?” Perrath snorts. He knows the answer. Finally, he lets himself release the built up laughter in his chest. “Excellent response! Show those who treat you unjustly no mercy, Miss Flameborne, child of fire!”

The fun is nearly broken up by the stiff complaining in the back. Perrath avoids rolling his eyes, but makes a play of “respect.” “I don’t believe we’ve properly met,” he says, approaching the elf with a hand extended. “You must be Miss Flameborne’s retainer. I hope to be pleasant company on this endeavor to retrieve the enchanted painting.” The paladin glances past Cervayhn at the carriage. “If we’ll be traveling together, I hope you don’t mind accommodating one stop I must make along the way. It will be swift and won’t set us back more than a moment.”

Ulmiyda’s eyes light up in response to Perrath’s laughter, surprised to have found someone who so readily supported her methods. She gets out one final exclamation before her retainer interrupts their conversation. “Yes! I simply gave them a taste of their own beliefs!”

Cervayhn eyes Perrath’s gesture with a calm suspicion; it was obvious that any formality the murderer would present would come with his own self-interest in tow. There was no point in denying the dragon however, as his young master was likely to aid her new morally dubious acquaintance with any argument he may give, even if it was against her own well-being. The older dark elf takes the dragon’s hand with an assertive grip, while a dagger lies ready under his other sleeve, just in case. “Cervayhn, retainer to Miss Flamborne. We’ll allow one stop, but we won’t be joining you on whatever business you need to attend to, nor will we wait an extended period of time.”

As the bizarre trio walk over to the carriage Ulmiyda stares up at Perrath with a beaming smile, believing she had found a kindred spirit willing to understand her passion. “Say, what is your opinion on fire? Usually when I tell people that story they look at me with fearful eyes, but you are different. Is it because you are a dragon?” 

Cervayhn walks besides Ulmiyda without any comment, letting the girl ask her inane questions to their mysterious ally. Unfortunately, he would need to allow the dragon to go about his business unmonitored; as much as he would like to put his skills in espionage to use, the safety of his young master comes before his curiosity. He wouldn’t be able to follow the dragon to his with Ulmiyda in tow, lest they be led into a trap, nor could he leave the girl unattended at the carriage. He resigns himself to a light sigh as they reach the carriage; perhaps it was best to not dig into underhanded affairs in a region that was already unwelcoming to begin with.

The older dark elf takes his young master’s hand and lifts her up to the driver’s seat of the carriage, before climbing himself. He maneuvers to the center of the cushioned seat as he signals Perrath to sit beside him and away from Ulmiyda. While it may be an extremely tight fit, even with the bench-wide carriage seat, there was no way he was going to let this miscreant ride without supervision. He glances at him nonchalantly, trying his best to seem disinterested in the dragon's affairs. “Just give the word when you need to stop.”

Ulmiyda peeks out from the other side of Cervayhn with a massive grin, her naive curiosity granting her the ability to ask the question her retainer had avoided. “What do you need to stop for? Buying a new sword? Seeing some family? I bet you are hungry; I’m feeling pretty hungry.”

Their interactions have been brief so far, but Perrath decidedly likes the young firestarter. Very rarely does he meet someone who sticks to their beliefs, especially when most of society looks down on them for the more violent outbursts that may be necessary to show them. No mercy for those who cross your path. This girl understands it, at least she seems to upon first impressions.

Cervayhn on the other hand, Perrath could do without. It’s obvious the man is feigning pleasantries, something Perrath is well acquainted to doing. Ditching him would be in everyone’s best interest, but likely more difficult than it’s worth. “One short stop is all I ask for,” the dragon says. “I appreciate your accommodations despite us only having just met.” Ugh. Too nice for his tastes.

As soon as it isn’t too uncomfortable to release the elf’s hand, Perrath does so and follows Ulmiyda to the carriage. In a show of good faith, he opens the door for her in a very gentlemanly way, almost as if he intends to be a minor nuisance to the retainer by giving him nothing to complain about. Another fake smile, more false pleasantries, as they take to the carriage. Perrath is much too large for the carriage, having to be cautious not to let his long, curved horns catch the walls or ceiling. It is unbecoming of him to hunch over so much, but a free ride is a free ride.

Finally, he answers Ulmiyda. “Fire is an excellent power,” he says proudly. “Primordial. Strong. Yet malleable. To manifest and control it is a great feat upon itself, and it is not easy nor meant for those who do not respect it. Just like your blade, it is a weapon. Capable of destruction but also a giver of life.” Clearly, Perrath has forgotten all about Xalmond or cannot recall that the red lizardfolk has ever used fire because if he did, his tune would change immediately. “People who look at you with fear simply do not understand you. Besides, what better end for a volcano-worshipping cultist than to be seared by the very flames he reveres? You did as you claimed: gave him a taste of his own beliefs. The phrase ‘fight fire with fire’ does not exist for naught.”

The cart lurches forward through the streets while they speak, and Perrath gives Cervayhn a nod of acknowledgement while he and Ulmiyda chat.

“As it happens, I have an order to pick up from a tavern on the way to our next destination,” he says simply. “A special wine or something for one of my colleagues. I’ll be sure to bring you back a snack as repayment for your kindness and patience. Do you like spicy foods? How squeamish are you?”

Ulmiyda’s eyes light up as Perrath offers to bring her back a snack from his escapade. “A snack!? Sure, I love spicy foods, ooh but I also like sweets, could you get me something sweet and spicy? They have those right?”
Cervayhn’s eyes roll as clutches the reins of the frozen steed slightly tighter, he turns to face the dragon with a less than amused expression. “You said you were going to a tavern, right? Anything you bring back goes through me first and if you bring a drink, it better not be alcoholic. Don’t think you can pull a fast one on me either; I happen to be a connoisseur when it comes to alcohol so I can sense even the most subtle of doses.”

A mischievous grin starts to form on the young girl’s face the minute her retainer mentions taste testing whatever Perrath brings back. She cups around her mouth as she leans towards the dragon, speaking in a whisper. “Cervayhn hates hot things, but he’s too much of a worrywart to not sample things, so get the hottest thing you can.”

The older dark elf can only sigh as he stares further down the path. His ears easily caught his young master’s words; a child’s whispers offer little secrecy to someone who spent years working for the Pale City’s intelligence division after all. There is no use protesting her however, as Perrath is far more likely to listen to Ulmiyda and an argument will only further add to his stress. Resigned to fate, the older dark elf snaps the horse’s reins, sending the beast charging down the streets; if he is going to suffer, it’s best that he get this over with as fast as possible.

The carriage arrives on the tavern’s street after a short while, giving the older dark elf a small sense of pride in his driving skills. He dons a smirk as he faces his young master and the dragon, both of whom are no doubt heavily jostled from the sudden increase in speed. “Here we are, you got thirty minutes to take care of this errand of yours then we are leaving, with or without you.”

“It wouldn’t be Darkveil, situated at the base of a volcano, if they did not have some sort of spicy food!” Perrath declares with a laugh. “Miss Flameborne, I will find you something that suits both of your tastes for the kindness you have showed me thus far.” As he gets ready to exit the cart, the dragon’s eyes meet the adult elf’s, though Cervayhn looks so serious it only serves to make Perrath want to chuckle at his insistence. “My good sir,” he says, sickly sweet. “I wouldn’t dream of challenging your tastes. Your drive to protect Miss Flameborne is no secret.” You’re too obvious. Perrath will be sure to get one of the spiciest things on the menu.

The ride to the tavern is rough, and Perrath has to brace himself against the roof of the carriage to avoid puncturing the fabric with his horns or hitting his head against it. When he finally comes to a stop, he nearly lets out a sigh of relief. Just as quickly as it stops does he step out to stretch his legs. “Of course, retainer, I will be quick, as I said.”

Shrugging his shoulders to adjust his armor, the dragon walks into the tavern and up to the bartender. “Hello, good sir, I come seeking your sweetest and spiciest drinks and snacks. Preferably of the non-alcoholic variety to appease some snobby elf.” As he leans on the counter, he struggles not to roll his eyes, and the bartender eventually produces a mug of thick, hot, spiced chocolate silk and a food item wrapped in paper for Perrath. “Thank you, sir, this seems perfect.” While Perrath slides the coin across the bar, he leans in, a darker expression across the dragon’s face. “And just a reminder… Remarnd is everywhere.”

Then he collects his food items and returns to the carriage. “Miss Flameborne, I present to you a perfectly crafted mug of the finest, silkiest, and spiciest hot chocolate cream!” With a flourish, he offers the mug directly to Ulmiyda and just out of reach of her retainer, expecting Cervayhn to snatch at it immediately. “And for your snack, something interesting, something that tests your mettle.” Unwrapping the paper, he reveals heavily seasoned skewers of what appear to be giant bug legs. “The shells are soft enough to eat, and according to the owner, they were freshly harvested from a creature on the volcano. The meat inside is supposedly sweet, and the seasoning on the outside is of the finest spices from Zeinav. Enjoy!”

As the dragon disappears into the establishment, Cervayhn turns to face his young master. “So, got a read on him?”

Ulmiyda stares at her retainer with a blank expression, utterly bewildered as to what he could possibly be asking her about. “What?”

“Is he dangerous? Is he after your money or worse, thinking of taking you hostage?” The older dark elf asks with alarmed concern.

“No? Quit being so paranoid, I’m the one who invited him, not the other way around.” The young girl replies non-nonchalantly.

An awkward silence lingers between the two elves until the dragon finally returns. Ulmiyda immediately perks up upon seeing him, ready to partake in whatever sweets her shadowy acquaintance has brought her. As the dragon offers his young master a mug of hot chocolate, Cervayhn immediately acts. Anticipating the dragon to taunt him, the older dark elf leans back and stretches out his hand, only to reveal a literal trick up his sleeve. A knife slides hilt-first out of the coat’s arm, the dark elf caughting the small blade between his two fingers. With his reach extended a couple inches, the dark elf slides the blade’s hilt into the ring of the mug handle. “Watch your fingers. At least I didn’t use the sharp end.”

The older dark elf swings the mug to his other hand, already dreading his duty as he feels the heat radiating outward to his fingers. His eyes stare down into the swirling brew and with a deep breath to compose himself, he takes a sip of the drink. Immediately, the man’s tongue is overwhelmed by an agonizing sting, followed shortly by a chocolatey sweetness. The sweetness dissipates much faster than the sting however, and the older dark elf passes the mug to his young master.

“Here… It’s pretty good.” Cervayhn tells Ulmiyda in a strained tone, doing his best to hide his pain.

Ulmiyda eagerly takes the drink, immediately taking a sip herself. The young girl's eyes light up as she looks up to Perrath. “Wow, this is great! Much better than anything in Frost Gale!” She exclaims ecstatically, seemingly unaffected by the heat.

Whatever Cervayhn was expecting the Perrath to bring as a snack, he certainly didn’t expect it to be of insectoid origin. He looks down at the shelled limbs with a grimace, with only a singular thought passing through his head.

I really need to ask Shiva for a raise after this.

Swallowing his pride, the older dark elf leans down and takes a bite, his entire body shuddering slightly as soft exoskeleton crackles in teeth. He chews the spiced limb with a grimace before forcibly swallowing it down. “That’s certainly an… exotic taste.” He says as he passes the skewer to Ulmiyda.

The girl looks at impaled appendages curiously. “Huh, I saw something like this last time I was in Zeinav but didn’t get to try it.”

Throwing caution (and formality) to the wind, the girl takes a bite of the snack, pausing momentarily before quickly attacking the remaining pieces.

“This is incredible! Why didn’t we try this before?” Ulmiyda asks her retainer, who simply stares at her for a few seconds with a stunned silence.

Believing his young master to be even more strange than he had previously thought, the exhausted man gives the horse’s rein a flick, resuming their travel. “We’d best get moving. The painting buyer will likely be less suspicious if we knock on their door while the sun is still up.”

As the carriage pulls up to their destination, red flags are immediately raised in Cervayhn’s head. The house is by all means decrepit; cobwebs cling to the insides of many a window and bare spots of missing shingles dot the roof. This certainly doesn't seem the residence of an art connoisseur, or at least not one that cares about preservation.

Cervayhn double checks his sheathed blades in his coat as he steps down from the carriage. He keeps his gaze towards the entrance as he opens the passenger door. “I don’t like this one bit, we are going to move forward with the original plan but keep your wits about you.” His gaze focuses on his young master for his final statement. “And do not touch anything.”

Ceravyhn’s quiet threat doesn’t go unnoticed by Perrath, but in the interest of not causing a scene in the carriage, he allows it to slide. The pointed end wouldn’t have cut through his gauntlets anyway, so it’s no matter to him. Better to keep that quiet in case he needs to make use of them later.

Instead, Perrath smiles at Ulmiyda triumphantly. “Excellent, I’m glad you enjoy the peculiar tastes of the people of Darkveil and Zeinav. It is interesting to say the least.”

When they finally arrive at the supposed buyer’s location, Perrath looks at the dilapidated house with contempt on his face. “Are you sure this is the right location?” he says, looking at the information he stole collected from the artist’s house. “You and I are in agreement. Something doesn’t seem right. If the artist is trapped in his painting, how did he request someone to watch his home under the guise of being on vacation? No, there is something suspicious going on here.”

Climbing out of the carriage, Perrath looks around then approaches. The steps to the porch creak weakly under his weight as he walks up and knocks on the door.

The sound of rushing footsteps rings out from the inside of the derelict residence in response to Perrath’s knocking. After a few seconds the door swings open revealing a clearly annoyed Moon Elf woman, dressed in gear more suited for a street fight than an art gallery.

 

“No visitors! Go aw-” The woman’s eyes widen as she notices the ornate carriage and the high quality fabrics of the younger dark elf’s garb. “Actually, welcome! I presume you are here for the painting?”

 

Cervayhn steps forward, wanting to present a more amicable appearance than the armor-clad dragon, despite the uneasy atmosphere of the scene. “Yes ma’am, we happen to be big fans of this artist and we’re hoping to get his latest, exclusive piece.”

 

The woman gives them a wide grin as she leans back, presenting an open palm outwards into the house. “Well then, let’s get the negotiations started, shall we?”

 

The woman leads the trio inside, walking past all manner of decay that does little to improve the inhospitable first impression. Ulmiyda quietly grumbles at the uncleanness as her retainer’s eyes jump between every little alcove, searching for any sign of a potential threat.

 

Eventually the woman stops inside a living room that reeks of mildew. A thin layer of dust rest on every surface, with the exception of a lone wooden chair and a cloth-draped canvas. “Here we are, behold!”

 

The woman pulls the cloth away with a dramatic flair, presenting what can only be described as a masterpiece. The painting is of a large snow-covered land, broken apart only by a small village and a large church-like resting in the dead center of the horizon. A pale moon hangs above the wintery image, setting the snow aglow in an almost mesmerizing way.

 

“Five thousand solars.” The woman asks, as if such an absurdly high number is commonplace for her.

 

“What? What do mean five thousand solars? That’s absurd!” Cervayhn quickly replies, not allowing his young master’s spending habits to jump the gun.

 

“This is a one of a kind piece, I assure you. It’s worth every solar and then some. If anything I’m giving you a special discount.”

 

As the haggling between the two evolves into a full blown debate, Ulmiyda walks over to the painting with a curious expression. Her eyes stare into the moonlit snowscape as a longing sense of dread slowly builds within her. A painful nostalgia from days at home. The girl begins to turn away, only for a glimmer to just catch her peripheral. Her memories offer more than just dread, as an unanswered curiosity emerges as well. A tiny spark dances from within the window of the church, just like the light of the street lamps that gave her the strength to endure The Pale City’s harsh winters.

 

Her hand lifts on its own as her compulsion to satisfy that childhood wonder overtakes her. Her fingers touch the canvas as the noise of the negotiations behind her fades away. Her eyes close as she tries to focus entirely on the sensation of touch.

 

“WAH!” Ulmiyda yelps as her arm is sucked into the painting. The girl looks back in panic, barely able to stretch out her remaining hand as the rest of her body begins to be pulled inside.

“CERVAY-”

The girl’s scream is cut short as her head slips away, leaving only her remaining arm.

Cervayhn moves as fast as he can, the tips of his fingers just failing to reach his master’s hand as she slips away. The older dark elf processes his failure for the briefest of moments, allowing the strange caretaker enough time to launch a blast of ice towards him as he tries to get his bearings.

 

“What did you-”

 

The blast hits Cervayhn just hard enough to break his balance, causing his right hand to make contact with the glowing canvas. The suction effect is powerful, easily taking in his entire arm within a second before starting on his head. His remaining arm doesn’t attempt to stop the inevitable, choosing instead to grab one of the throwing knives from beneath his sleeve. The small blade is airborne almost instantly, but fails to strike down its target as its edge sinks into the woman’s bicep. Whether it be from an offhand throw or his currently extremely awkward body position, the missed shot infuriates the dark elf and a cold, unfazed expression adorns his face as he points forward, yelling one last thing before the painting fully overtakes him.

 

“I’LL GET YOU WITCH.”

Perrath is not particularly a people person. He much prefers to deal with people in the form of killing them and moving on, so when Ceravyhn steps up to start haggling, the dragon finds himself utterly relieved. Instead, he starts to focus on the decrepit surroundings. This seems an odd place to find a painting of this value, if it’s truly that valuable even.

Bah, five thousand solars? That’s a wyrmling’s entire hoard! How dare this woman expect that for this sloppy paint on canvas?

The dragon’s eyes trail over to watch the younger of the dark elves curiously checking over the painting, his thoughts caught between wondering if she’ll damage it on accident or in a blaze of flames on purpose. The latter would be preferable at this point.

And then suddenly Ulmiyda’s arm gets sucked into the painting. The rest of her quickly follows. “Retainer, your ward!” Perrath snaps, lunging forward in an attempt to catch Ulmiyda. Ultimately, both his and Cervayhn’s attempts fail, and Perrath looks at the painting with an awestruck expression before turning to see the woman send a blast toward the elf that quickly knocks him into the painting. “What the–”

Perrath’s eyes dart between the painting and the caretaker, and his talons shift against the moldering boards beneath him. “Perhaps I will leave. You can expect to hear nothing of this from me,” he says in a calm voice, though in actuality, it is hard to cover the shock. And, just as he expected but hoped would not happen, another blast of ice hits him and knocks him into the painting too.

---

To be continued in…An Icyhot Solution to a Painter’s Woes