#turelimlord

The air surrounding the land of the Turelim grew heavy of smoke from the Smokestacks - not an ultimate concern for the flock of crows nearing the city. Dark wings glided, fluttering so slightly in the murder’s descent. Six golden eyed birds - one carrying a strange small passenger - split as they scanned through the busy landscape. Between the slave pens, the market place, barracks - everywhere they could hopefully find the Iron Lord. The main crow with their guest headed to what she believed to be the palace. Rarely did Maybelle visit the Turelim Lord - less so than his brothers. The landscape, the noise, the lack of nature that continued to endure Nosgoth’s decaying state, it brought enough discomfort to not look forward to visit. That, and Turel was often so preoccupied that when she did visit, he was not available. Being a craftswoman herself, she couldn’t blame him for desiring undisturbed focus. There was hope to find him outside - wouldn’t hurt to try.

There, the crow found the man under those beady golden eyes, no doubt being forced to take in some fresh air before retreating back to his workshop. A sound came to the tiny passenger to ready herself for departure, readying talons to hold her as she neared with a swoop. The idea was a mischievous one - one the She-Wolf of Termogent was known to be of. Turel might’ve heard the incoming crow by the sound of winds, but she was soon known for sure as the crow cawed and threw the tiny mouse like companion toward him - ended up landing onto his face with a soft tap!

Whoops...She prayed there wouldn’t be consequences for the delivery.

*hears the vampires talk about raising a human...

“Well they are. Or rather do you want me to call them breeding cows?”

@turelimlord

In her ever expanding world of strangeness, ending up in a foreign land with no idea how she got there ranked... yeah, it was kind of midway. Couldn’t think much more about it due to fleeing. 

Farm cats were the worst. 

The only way she even got away because she had flung herself into a pile of stone (Apparently, they were trying to make a wall). The mouse had taken out one her daggers, stabbing the cat in the paw. It was painful in the same way that a thorn was, only sharper and made of an easy metal to find.

Good news: It apparently scared the cat off.

Bad news: The cat had shifted the rocks when it landed, so now her cape was stuck, along with the rest of her daggers and other minor tools. 

“Come on, moooove!” She growled, attempting to shift the rock that was probably twice her weight.

“ Suspicious....”

“ Wait…Your what-”

“Ayyyeee’ dun’ need sliip. ‘M fine. I jus’ need to stan’ an takea...” he stands, wobbles and falls down.

   Probably not the polite way of greeting someone for the first time. But hey; Thorne had more muscle then sense sometimes. For a moment he held Turel, as if the Vampire Lord weighed nothing at all, before slowly planting him back down upon the ground. “Proving a point? Oh... I guess. Maybe? I was just curious abut something... Probably shouldn’t have just helped myself though. Bad manners... right?”

“Ow.” Tina deadpans at the flick. “I am suffering.”