Lyra Fereth

[*Pashan01]

Basic Information
Name: Lyra Fereth
Aliases: Known by very few - when in disguise and covered she goes by the name 'Gehenna-the-Silent'
Gender: Female
Race: Elf
Age: Approx 120
Profession: Artist/tattoist, musician, ?
Languages: Common, Elven, Halfling, ?
Accent: None, mute

Physical Information
Height: Just under 5ft
Weight: ?
Body build: Petite, slender
Skin type: smooth, milky white
Hair style: Long hair, plaited to a bun, tied with a blue ribbon
Scars: None
Tattoos: None
Colouring:

[b]Hair:[/b] White, blueish tinges [b]Eyes:[/b] Icey blue [b]Skin:[/b] Pale [/li]

Mental Information
Alignment: ?
Philosophy: 'No exception'
Deity/Beliefs: Shevarash (not commonly known)
Personality:

[u]Cautious[/u] [u]Secretive[/u] [u]Careful[/u] [u]Professional[/u] [u]Stubborn[/u] [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: Carries a black longbow naturally as if an extension to her arm, wears a simple blue tunic dress with padded leather armour beneath.
Jewelry: None at this time
Habbits/hobbies/manner: She has a very quiet manner and a pleasant enough smile, willingly displayed to 'most' on first encounter. She is often seen doodling and drawing with sketch pad and pencil, brings out a musical instrument less frequently and always carries a black longbow to her back if she does not have it held to hand.
General Health: Her skinny frame and pale colouring indicates her to be slightly undernourished, otherwise in average health.
Favorite Drink: Tea, less commonly known - whiskey.
Weaknesses: She had a fear of deep water, yet this fear has lessened through time and careful instruction in the giving of swimming lessons of her mentor.
Other: It is very very rare to see, but sometimes, just sometimes, she may be seen in the company of a wolf.

[*Pashan01]

The slightly built elven girl hunkers down in the shadows of a building wall watching all that goes on about her, eyes narrowing as she spies one or two and watches them more carefully, she hisses lightly then spits to the ground beside her, her only show of emotion, as her fingers tighten and grip the stave of her black bow.

But she bides her time, for the time is not yet ripe and surpresses those feelings and instead considers the increase in custom now that Lervak lets her make her own business.

A payment for one message passed on to the Harmonium, the promise to keep quiet nor lay pencil to paper, easily given, task completed. She would keep look out for that customer again, passing messages was easy coin in between her more artistical assignments and she had no qualms to whom and what - jink was jink after all.

Another payment for sketched portrait for one albino elf-kin, she smirked remembering her accentuation in the drawing of the girl's bosom seeming to please for the jink recieved was generous, her artwork also leaving a larger grin on the male's face who had stood beside the girl. So easy, so obvious.

A payment for a small tattoo work with one chatty male who would not shut up. She promised to take walk with him sometime to get that jink and the tattoo was simple enough. He chewed on the tiny offering of herb root to keep the pain at bay, tiny piece still bringing bluish tinge to his lips but unfortunately made his chatter worse, she put up with it with wry inward grin. Silence was golden and she retreated into her own mind ignoring his high spirits until the job was done.

The larger tattoo for another customer took hours and required her to take drug to keep focused and keen eyed upon her work. That particular customer refused the herb root, bled little and managed the pain. She knew why and kept sign of her fear at bay - there was potential in keeping that customer happy and she knew it. Aside from some of the shading of the design to be less than perfect, the tattoo as a whole was one of her best but she knew that one would be unlikely displayed in advertisement of her skills. So be it. The rich reward for her effort was worth taking the drug and the secrecy of that piece.

She had seen an unusual tattoo on one other, attempted to communicate her business later on for potential custom but it had been difficult. Her first reaction when approached was to lift and aim bow and arrow, the threat to her person and the challenge a puzzle but she was not about to die for a misunderstanding. The misunderstanding seemed to resolve itself in the end but there was no further chance to tout for business, indeed there was something she saw and learned of that person that captured her interest and she wondered whether they would meet again.

[*Pashan01]

Two pacts she made by spit to hand followed by a shake. The first, a mutual arrangement that would allow survival of the one to enable assistance to the other. The second, would bring her benefit of improvement in her natural skills but she was not entirely certain yet of the benefit to the other. She trusted neither fully, just enough to make pact and take the first steps towards her goals - her silence assured, their silence was inevitable given their natures too.

Two scars were made, one to her and one by her. The first, she would need to hide for a few days - the physical pain had been bearable, the images created in her mind were bizarre and different but no worse than those that lingered with her from childhood. The second was from a removal of an unwanted tattoo. The process of drawing the old ink from skin took an hour as the tattoo was relatively small. The customer used his own measures for bearing the pain and she carried out the removal in secrecy at his insistance - she drew curtain around them so that even Lervak did not see that tattoo. Both scars would fade in time unless new ones took their place.

[*Pashan01]

The single arrow lay in half upon the cobbles, broken in two by her hand, set to a point directed at the female who had called her faerie. A globule of her spit sat between the broken ends signifying something else.

She had fixed her mark.

Yes, all bets were off once outside of Sigil.

[*Pashan01]

Two hunts she made. One with kin, hiding and sweeping through the long grasses stalking the sirens of the dusky plane, synchronised attacks and chase, signals without words, communication instinctive, whether it was from being kin or something else, she found this thrilling and different from her usual haunts and training ground.

The second hunt was with her new mentor and made as a game for training. By chance they stumbled across the unsuspecting mark and toyed with him for a while. She had not wanted to let him go and for the second time that evening she found herself nearly giving way to her emotion. The emotion of anger and frustration of earlier accusation had been settled and the pact renewed......no, this emotion ran deeper and she was not quite adept enough to hide it this time.

She could see the potential that was being suggested. One, used to a rigid way and used to working alone. She, surviving up to this point only on account of Lervak's meagre support but now needing to learn and push herself forward to achieve her goal. The other......she didn't know quite what to make of him yet, only that he was offering a way forward if they would but open their eyes and seize it.

[*Pashan01]

Foot tapping against the side of the crate, pencil to hand she was sketching when she saw two thug-like characters talk of dealings and a package was passed. This was not unusual occurrence in the hive ward, or that quarter, so she kept out of the situation and just observed from a distance – even when the one opened the package and burst into flames, fell to the ground and burnt to death. Thug justice was done apparently, for some kind of betrayal. She did not blink. If the harmonium guard that had passed earlier had still been present perhaps someone would have bat an eyelid, as it was, no one did.

The harlots however were a little agitated. As another thug type approached them offering protection she realised that the burnt man must have been their pimp. She knew the girls, they were neighbours after all and saw potential opportunity where they were less than impressed with the company of the man talking to them, there was mention of fear of beatings from their previous boss. Quietly, after writing quick note, she padded in their direction, and slipped it into the hand of one of the girls. The message was read, the girl must have seen it was Lyra who passed the note, but Lyra was already walking away casually to another part of the square. Lyra wondered if the harlots would take the offer and leave message. Perhaps they would laugh at this slip of a girl offering her services in return for percentage of their earnings. And then again, perhaps not.

[*Pashan01]

With a sigh she added a little blue and red to the palette and with brush mixed the paints together to make another colour as the skin tone in one part had changed from a light flesh tone to a darker purple hue. Not only that, but she had also to keep amending the scale of that part of the man's anatomy as, during the painting, that part of his flesh had distended and broadened so that the angle and width of his greatsword no longer covered his 'other'. She had no idea whether the lady who would recieve this painting would appreciate her artistic talents, simple though they were, but she was sure from what she caught glimpse of, in her professional capacity, that the lady would appreciate those talents of the male lying prone in pose before her. Lyra gave wry grin, able to ignore the man's discomfort at his physical reaction to her presence during the painting, for he had chosen to divest himself of his underwear in the end, she had only suggested and assisted with his pose and position.

Painting finished, she began to wrap up it up in a large cloth when from the corner of her eye she caught sight of an unusual shadow. Frowning, she tilted her head to listen more carefully and heard a slight creak of wood and soft slide of arrow being drawn. With a hiss she quickly handed her customer his shorts with a finger, tugging on one of his arms to get him to rise, trying to encourage him off the plinth and back out of the area. The other man appeared out of the shadows laughing, she knew him and was annoyed at this interruption, the area however was a public one. Naked, but now standing her customer was also taken aback and males being males, the human variety usually the worst and quick to rise, took obvious offense at the newcomer's jesting. She could not help but smirk a little at the situation herself, but her customer had not paid her yet for the picture. She let them toss words and could see that weapons might get drawn in due course, indeed the one had his greatsword to hand and it appeared close to being raised in anger, if she did not take action soon. She tugged quickly again on the customer's arm as he struggled into his undershorts. Tossing her the agreed fee, obviously annoyed, their bout appeared to end and he stormed off through the water back to the changing rooms.

"Little girl" he called her, she narrowed eyes at the newcomer, as he professed merely to have come here for a bath, still chuckling to himself. With a sigh of frustration she considered throwing the wrapped painting into the pool hovering with it over the edge for a moment, then decided instead to leave it leaning against the wall. Perhaps the man would return for it.....what a waste. She considered the water barrier before her nervously, her customer had helped her before to cross to the central plinth, she now wanted to leave herself and didn't feel like communicating with the 'intruder' still miffed with him. But then her customer returned, now in full armour, wading across the pool, greatsword raised higher. More words bandied, the air more charged but still no fight ensued. Her customer saw her difficulty regarding the water, did then take the painting under his arm, but she ignored both males and their offerings of help, leaving the easel she took the plunge and struggled, trembling at each step to wade across the water, her pack, black bow and paints held high over her head. Sopping wet she emerged on the other side followed closely by the other two. She left them there, to head back dripping wet to the hive ward and her attic room at the tattoo parlour and not a bit put out by it all although 500 gold the richer she should have been contented. She wondered if it all had been worth the jink, that sort of painting would unlikely have the man advertising her trade, less so given the turn of events for her customer.
*******
The man was broad, muscular and toned, his hair a deep dark brown almost black, a little unkempt, sweeping a bit over his eyes which were blue in colour. His arms were swathed in tattoos, little sellable space for Lyra, though his back and chest were bare and his skin over all tanned. She had him pose reclining, one knee raised, his head leaning upon his arm and his greatsword leaning upon forearm, angled down the length of his body, its tip resting to the table by his shins

[*Pashan01]

She slid the page across the table to the old man. The edge of one side of the page was ragged having been torn from a book afew days before on a careful trip to the Hall of Records. There was a title in bold script upon the page, some history and lore about the weapon and a number of qualities, eleven in total were listed.

"You want me to craft you a bow?" he kept his attention on her as well as the page so that he could see when she signalled something with her body. She noted this with inward grin. He of all the crafters and merchants was particularly perceptive despite his advanced human years and they had dealt simply together in the past, her needs quickly understood by him despite her difficulty in communicating without speech.

She leant forward in her seat, a cold gleam in her blue eyes and she nodded with a grin and flicked the back of the page with finger and thumb, trying to make a point that she wanted not just any bow but one like this. She knew it was impossible to have this precise one, for there was only one of these according to the lore. She ran her fingers down the length of the page that bore the writing, emphasising her point once more.

"So a bow designed to hunt and slay drow then? I think I could make something like this" the old man coughed "But it would require some specific components I do not currently possess. If you could aquire those yourself however, then I could make this."

"First you'll need wood that will hold the strength and magic needed, treants in beastlands have branches that will do nicely, getting me a number of those branches will be needed"

She offered up five fingers raising her brow to ask if that would be sufficient.

"Five should be plenty, I need only one really, but I need to infuse and age the wood, and after that is done I'll pick the best one to make your bow, so having a few to pick from guarantees top quality"

"Secondly, I'll need shadow stuff to infuse the bow with... the remains of destroyed shadows... you can find those in the Gray Waste"

"And lastly I'll need a string tough enough to handle the bow, I suggest spider silk, which you should be able to harvest in undersigil"

She frowned slightly, but nodded again and slowly counted with her fingers in front of him, asking with her eyes how many would be required. He made a shrug and told her that not many were needed, just a handful. She then pointed to her coin purse that she had layed upon the table. But he had not wanted payment there and then, stating he was unsure whether she would be able to obtain all the components. He told her he would start to make it, start to research the rest of the enchantments required once she returned with the materials. she nodded slowly and tucked her coin purse away, her smile wry at the thought of the shadow material, with light sigh she then raised her index finger, ensuring she had his attention then placed it to her lips indicating she wanted his discretion on her request.

"It will be our secret" he nodded. With a sly smile to him she then lowered her lashes briefly as she nodded also and made to spit to her palm then paused from that action waiting to see if he would follow suit. The old man made a sigh as if he considered her incredibly crude, but he did not seem to have any qualms against the action itself and so spat, or rather attempted to spit, into his palm, though too dry to produce any saliva, he took her hand to shake it.

He made what seemed to be casual enquiry then about her inability to speak, asking whether was due to severed tongue, something she was born with or because of magic. She answered simply by sticking out her tongue showing it to be whole and holding her hand out to a height of three feet, then touched her throat. He got the reference that she had lost voice when she was young. As for magic, she had wrinkled her nose and shrugged. That much she did not really know herself and could give no more answer, nor was she asking for help from him or about to hunt for specialist healers that he indicated were around in Sigil, she was well used to her state. She quizzed him about his own ailment, mimicking the sound, though her own was a breathy dry rasp of throat without voice and heard tale of a six arm demon, too many spells to block and the breathing in of acid fumes. Nasty, she thought, but was also impressed at his survival of that. They parted company then, her to start her hunt for those components and the old man to his rest.

[*Pashan01]

To the sound of dripping water in the gloom of Undersigil, Lyra inspected the tattoo carefully, assessing the detail, the intricacy and the size, then gave the prospective customer her estimate for its removal. She got little of the story behind the old design but did receive something more of the story behind the new one requested.

The description had her interested. The detail required for the size of tattoo required was extensive and would take a number of hours, if she did it right, there was good jink to be made. But its meaning and potential held the most interest – the reason why she kept her price less than competitive for the work involved. She drew outline sketch of the image during the talk, the vision sparking her creative abilities and the result was approved.

The idea behind those figures in that image inspired her.

[*Pashan01]

**
She brushed the remnants of roof moss from her hands and knees and rose slowly from her crouched position upon that last roof to face the female wood elf and her human companion as they climbed the steps to meet them. Must have heard my heavy landing and looked up she thought and made mental note to do better the next time.

**
They looked at her oddly, the quiet wood elf and the human, as she cut off two branches in turn from the defeated treant. She did not bother to explain nor ask them to carry more branches for her as two became her maximum during this hunt given the other things she carried. A quiet whisper from the other ''New bow?'' had her nodding.

**
The human told his name in elven. She had not told hers to many, but it was not great secret. Neither seemed bothered to ask, so she did not offer it.

**
Ordered to approach and near the water, in front of the other two at that! She glared at him angrily, pointedly looking at the other two, wondering if he would respect that they were not alone. She did not move at first and when he made reference to the pact and still in her eyes, appeared to insist she join him, she rose slowly and withdrew. What was the point?. If he would thrust that pact at her each and every time she did not agree with something when it was not a training session, in front of others no less! Then they were done. This could not go on. There were two occasions so far where she had seen his edge and gotten the measure of what could be that would merit her continuing this relationship. Where was that person? She ensured he was tended when they were later ambushed but after that continued alone back to the Cage, still annoyed with him.