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A groan escaped her as sunlight pierced the cracks between the window and the curtain she'd drawn only two hours before. No…no, it was far too early. It couldn't possibly be morning…could it?

Letting out a huff, the elf slowly rolled the covers back, and set two pale, narrow, and somewhat large—but not too large, dammit—feet on the floor, looking into her bleary, black eyes as she stared at the mirror.

The disguise had lasted through the night, it seemed. The thought of it brought a smile to her face as she stood up to comb through her messy black hair. Far too much of it, really, but it had its benefits. No one noticed the points on her ears that marked her elven heritage, and more importantly, the disguise's magic was strong enough to make the enormous white wings hanging off her back disappear when she willed it. Grey eyes and blonde hair left as well. She looked like Sari today, not like Lica, or more importantly, Angel.

She dragged the comb through her hair, making the thick black waves into something managable. A sigh escaped her as she dragged on all the rediculous plate mail and red cloth that made up the armor of the Amnian guards. The whole ensemble was rediculously bulky. She was a slight woman, and liked to be viewed as such, since she was so bloody tall as it was. Three mercenaries had approached her in the past few days, thinking she was that assassin that had killed a nobleman some few days ago. Idiots. Not every tall, heavily-armored woman with black hair was a murderous weapon master, after all.

Her morning toilette was completed precisely ten minutes later, and set out, her hair neat, her clothes clean, and her shoe laces pulled in no less than an inch. She was particular about these sort of things. Her sisters often teased her for her meticulousness, but it served her well. Particularily when dealing with the less-than-lawful denizens of the Bridge District.

Like most days in Athkatla, the temperature was blistering hot, and dryer than the bristles of a broom. Mercifully, she wasn't one of those women that sweated with the slightest increase in temperature, and simply shifted uncomfortably in her armor as she set out, rather than making it soggy from perspiration. She'd forget though, once she started working.

"Any news on the skinning incidents, Aegisfield?" She asked her partner as she strode forward.

"None yet. There's some adventurers working on it though." He commented, handing her a cup of coffee—black, one sugar, no more than precisely two teaspoons of cream. "They're speaking to Rose Boquet now."

"I don't think it's wise to involve civilians."

"True, but we need all the help we can get." The man shrugged his thick shoulders. "You know, they were pretty famous in Baldur's Gate. Took care of that iron crisis in Nashkel and such."

"And that makes them qualified to deal with serial killers?" She remarked with open skepticism.

"More qualified than the usual crowd of amatuer sleuths."

"I suppose." She took one last sip of her coffee before tossing it into a nearby trashcan. The contents of the item were beginning to build up, the putrid smells of rotten fish, stale ale, and the vomit that often resulted from each item wafting from beneath the lid. Someone would need to clean it out soon, but since when did anyone give a damn? It was the Bridge District. It had niether the help of the government, nor the Shadow Thieves to support its infrastructure.

Resisting the urge to empty and desanitize the contraption herself, Sari smiled wryly to Aegisfield. "I'll take southside patrol today, if you don't mind."

"Suit yourself. Let me know if you hear anything about the murders."

The officers waved goodbye to each other, before setting off on their patrols. Sari's began at the intersection between the Five Flagons and the estate of that new Calimshite merchant. Saerk, or something. He seemed quiet enough, she supposed. No problems with him.

"Good morning, Reedle." She greeted as she approached the halfling vendor. "Those louts from the Bladewalker gang aren't still giving you trouble, are they?"

"Not a word. Thank yeh for speakin' ter them, Officer."

"It's no trouble." She said with a smile, quite proud of herself. She'd been on the force for only a year or so, and she was glad to help out. The Bridge District sorely needed it, after all.

"Any new catches?"

"Aye! And there'll be more by lunch!"

"I look forward to it." Despite the questionable brown tinge of the fish, she believed Reedle Lightfoot sold the best seafood in the city, and was more than willing to pay a few gold for a cut of it.

But she would have to wait for that. Her duties took precedence.

Everything appeared business as usual in the district. Halflings and humans ran about, children played in the streets, and such. Even little Faraji was out, playing with his friends while sticking his little fingers into men's pockets. She let it go this time. No need to put the boy through more. Poor thing must have been scared to death, since he was the one to find the last victim of the skinning murderer.

She supposed she should have questioned him at that point, but Aegisfield had assured her that someone was working on it. No doubt the boy would try to blame Mrs. Cragmoon, who was no more murderer than she was a moon elf or half-orc.

As a nearby child tossed his brother into a pile of rotting fish, leading his mother to scold him, Sari shook her head. The children she'd grown up with were far too petrified to fight. Their mothers, or whomever sufficed as such, had told them that the winners of those fights would be noticed by the guards. And the guards would report to their superiors, and before they knew it, the winner would be sold to some pit master, and made to fight against monsters, rather than other children. No child wanted to be seperated from their friends, or family, if that was available, only to be killed in an arena. It was a far greater threat than any boogeyman.

But the thoughts left a sour note in her mind, she turned her gaze, hoping to distract herself from those memories.

A party of adventurers caught her notice as she passed by, halfway through the door of the Five Flagons. The leader appeared to be the same woman she'd encountered in the promenade just a month ago, when that damned mage had appeared, making enough trouble to force a section of the district to collapse. She seemed to be staying out of trouble, however.

Her companions were interesting, to say the least. A huge warrior who kept peeking into his pack, and whispering to someone named, "Boo", as well as an elven druid who frowned upon everything she looked at. They'd been with him at the promenade, as had the thief, from Kara-tur. She'd always wanted to visit the region. One of her sisters was training at some dojo there, and whenever she visited, she always had fascinating tales to tell, as well as clever moves to use while fighting.

The red-haired girl was a noble, she knew. But she had a keen interest in the disenfranchised, often preaching about social change to the deaf ears at the Coronet. Some of her colleagues had laughed over the girl's ideas, finding them silly and naïve. Still…Sari supposed that she could understand why someone would need to hope for change. Be better if she went out and did something about it, however.

She knew the little drow that trailed after them, chuckling a little as she leaped onto the blond paladin's back, and cried out, "Onward, my valiant steed!" much to his amusement, or annoyance. Sari couldn't tell which. Still, seeing that unihibited mischief, and joy, she wondered how the woman bothering the paladin was the same woman she'd tackled only days before for trying to assassinate Lord Firkragg, or that she was related to the officer's sour and sarcastic foster mother. Looks could be decieving, after all.

The bearded man was a follower of the Radiant Heart. He'd visited with the priest of Helm in the district every so often, but other than that, she knew little of him. The blonde girl, though, dressed in orange mage robes, she knew well.

It was always so strange to see another avariel elf, especially when the only one she knew, besides herself, was her late mother. Still, this poor girl had no wings, and it was certainly not because of any disguise, as Sari had. No, more likely they'd become infected during her stay at the circus. Years of being stuffed into crates and cages didn't leave much room for a young girl to stretch her wings, she reminded herself bitterly.

They soon passed through the door, and she took a few steps forward, only to knock into a familiar figure, both of them falling to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Mister Reijek." She chuckled to the tanner, offering him a leather-clad hand. "I'm a bit clumsy today, it seems."

"It's no trouble." He replied with a friendly smile, taking her hand with his own weather-beaten and gnarled fingers, soon standing up. "Have a good day, Officer."

"You too, Sir." She replied, walking off.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Two reports on robberies that had been done in the night, solving a dispute between a ship's captain and two ogre dockhands, and breaking up a potential mugging.

As she continued on her rounds, a group of mercenaries passed by, one of them daring to reach down, and pinch her buttocks.

"Sorry, miss. Me 'and slipped." He informed her, earning a chuckle from his friends.

She gave him a wan smile, before calmly reaching down, grabbing his hand, and snapping back his index finger, causing it to break with a loud crack, just as her sister had shown her. "Oops. My hand slipped."

"Bitch! How dare you--"

"Move along, citizen." She interrupted sharply, drumming her fingers along the guard symbol on her spear. They wouldn't dare kill an officer.

This theory was proven correct, as they soon shuffled off, the offender still cursing about his fingers. Her action had been rash, she supposed, but it was a better choice than allowing him to get away with such a thing. Sure, she supposed she was pretty enough. She had angelic features, a soft face and full lips, but that didn't mean she was some pretty little twit! She was an officer, and deserved to be respected as such. Dammit.

A little chuckle sounded from nearby, and Sari had to groan, easily recognizing that voice.

"Kaiden Thornheart, is it your mission to harrass me on a daily basis?"

The man was part of some new mercenary group. The Peacekeepers, they were called. They seemed to be in the Bridge District every day, or at least every day that Balthis called for them to take care of some problem. No doubt they were investigating the issue of the fallen paladins the Radiant Heart had reported some time before.

"Not on a daily basis." He grinned, smoothing his fingers through his neatly cut brown hair.

"I sincerely doubt that." She replied in bland voice, continuing on her rounds, while he fell into place beside her, slipping his hands behind his head in a casual gesture.

"I could make it nightly, actually. What do you say? You, me, margharitas in the moonlight?"

"I'd say you're about to fall into a storm drain." She said with a smirk, watching as his foot slipped.

Sari snapped out her wrist and caught him by the arm, but severely underestimated her own strength. The muscle on his six foot frame was enough to send her plummetting to the ground with a loud, metallic clank, her arm dangling in the sewer as he climbed up.

"Nice catch, Sari." He complimented, standing to his feet. "Still sure you don't wanna go to the bar with me? I could get play tickets. Five Flagons. My treat."

"What makes you think I would change my mind in the space of thirty-four seconds?" The officer asked, rolling her eyes as she stood up, dusting her armor.

"Thirty-four? You've been counting? Wow." Kaiden chuckled, reaching into her pocket and grabbing one of her pens, twirling it back and forth between his fingers. "I figured that you just saved my life and all, you secretly care more than you let on. We could discuss this further, you know…over margharitas in the moonlight."

"Give that back!" She snapped, snatching the pen back and quickly pocketing it. "That's mine. In fact, that's officer's property. And it's a felony to steal!"

"It's a pen, Sar." Kaiden chuckled. "But I suppose you would press charges for something like that. Though you always have so many with you, I figured that you could spare a few."

"Damn it! I am on duty, Mr. Thornheart! Now leave me alone or I'll--" She came to an abrupt stop, seeing the same mercenaries from before engaged in battle against someone. Tall, bulky armor, black hair…probably some stupid bar fight.

Charging towards the scene she shouted, "In the name of the council, I am here to keep ord--"

That was all she got out before the tall, black-haired woman cursed, and threw a punch that nailed her right in the throat. Sari collapsed to her knees, sputtering and coughing. No one, no one she knew could punch that hard. Not even her monk sister! And more importantly, that slug to her throat was completely unnecessary! It wasn't her damn fault that she had to say that stupid line again and again…

"Sari!" Kaiden rushed forward, helping her up, just as the mercenaries and the woman ran off. "Are you alright? Is there anything I can--"

"Kill. Bitch. NOW." She forced out between coughs, jabbing a finger in the direction of the woman and her enemies.

He nodded, unsheathing the two katanas he carried on his back, then chasing after her, several other men dressed in red armor following.

Rubbing a hand against her sore throat, Sari winced. Kaiden and his friends would take care of things. Probably grab all of them and take them to his order, or such. It wasn't her problem.

A wheeze of a sigh escaped her as she looked around, seeing the witnesses. A local woman, Juanita, her son, Antonio, and a dwarf she didn't recognize.

She was about to speak with Juanita and Antonio, when she realized the dwarf had disappeared. Her acute ears picked up the sound of a creaky door closing, and she spun around, seeing the door to the nearby derelict home close.

Sending a quick smile towards the mother and child, the officer approached the building, rapping her knuckles against the entrance. "Open up! Amnian guard!"

That same dwarf opened up, giving her a smile that was so wide, it was downright creepy.

"I wasn't aware that this place had a new tenant." She announced pleasantly, trying to keep her suspicion hidden. "Sir, may I come inside and you a few questions?"

"Why certainly, miss!" He replied quickly, all but grabbing her hand and pulling her inside the building.

No one in this district ever wanted to speak to officers, she recalled, holding her spear close as she stepped inside. "Did you witness the fight that just took place outside this building, sir?"

"Hee hee! I certainly did, miss." He chortled, making chills crawl like spiders up her spine. "Care to hear every detail?"

"I'll ask the questions, sir." She replied abruptly. "Could you describe the fighting parties to me?"

"I've a riddle for you." The dwarf said with a giggle.

"That's nice, sir, but I'd rather hear about the fight that just took place."

"Oh, you don't want to hear about that woman and her little friends. Take it from me." His smile became nasty. "One by the river, two by the mill. Half that many next to the window sill. Three by the gates, and two in the barn. One was buying cake, the other their mother's knitting yarn. Two snatched in the night, four died of fright. And the last girl, she let out not a trill, not even as I slit her throat on the hill. Tell me, officer, how many children did I kill?"

That is a *terrible* riddle, she thought to herself as she reached for her handcuffs. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to come back to the garrison with me."

But he disappeared into thin air before she could reach him, faint little giggles escaping different parts of the room for the next minute and thirteen seconds. She stood perfectly still, her knees bent and her spear in hand. Listen closely, listen for the giveaway, and…there!

The butt of her spear rammed into his side, stopping him from digging a knife into her arm. But as she approached him, he leapt up from the ground, burying his knife deep into her thigh.

Sharp, hot pain laced through her leg, causing her to break out in the sweats she rarely had, and leaving her hands shaking and clammy. It wasn't the knife. She'd been stabbed before, many times. There was something vile coating the blade. Something she needed to get rid of, and fast.

The blade her spear was planted deep into the dirt floor, and she yanked out a knife. She was no good with polearms. No, she could give him a knife fight, if that was what he wanted.

The little dwarf's giggles echoed out again, and she waited for his breathing to become audible, waited for him to get just close enough that she could grab his wrist, snapping out her knee and sending it straight into his nose. The blow was hard enough to make his eyes water, blinding him just long enough to slash her knife over his throat, cutting his windpipe, and his jugular.

A few sinister giggles echoed about the room once more, coming not from him, but from other sources. Four, from what she could tell.

"Damn it." She cursed, dropping his corpse to the ground as four, child-like spectres appeared, knives in their own hands.

Biting her lip, she clenched her knife close, and concentrated. The tattoo that had hidden itself in her hair flared to life, the black, sinwey lines of magic seeping out of her skin and taking form, coiling about the spectres before they could escape.

She killed each of them cleanly and methodical. They did not bleed or scream, they simply disappeared as she cut their throats, leaving only a pearl behind.

A scowl crossed her face as a tress of platinum blonde appeared on her shoulder, and several feathers poked out from her back, disappearing the moment the tattoo returned to her form, settling over her eyes and hair once more, and turning both pitch black. She was too reliant on the thing, she knew. But she had no idea what was coursing through her system at the moment.

As she stepped towards the door, something caught her eye. The bookshelf held three books, two of which were upright, the last of which had fallen.

The officer bit her lip. It was out of order…but it was a crime scene…and she was poisoned. She'd have to stop herself.

Slowly, she wrenched herself away from the distressing sight, and stepped outside, smiling as she caught sight of Mrs. Cragmoon.

"If you would, ma'am," She called out in a raspy voice, "I could use your assistance."

The woman nodded, rushing over and quickly pulling an antidote out of her pack, and passing it to the officer. "On the house, dear. You look as if you're about to stumble over."

"I feel that way." She said with a little chuckle, dipping back the bottle and gulping back the potion, feeling better instantly. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome. And in the future dear, think of following procedure, and calling for back-up." Cragmoon shook her head. "You young things think you're invincible and such."

"That poison is making me think differently, not to worry." Sari chuckled again, despite herself. The woman sounded much like her foster mother, scolding yet endearing, in her way. "And I won't say a word about the potions."

"I trust you won't, dear." Cragmoon gave her a wizened smile. "Now then, I believe you have a duty to see to."

"Yes, ma'am." Sari nodded, before pulling out a wisp, intent on reporting the incident to her headquarters.

The scene was inspected quickly after that, and she was allowed to continue her duties. Mercifully, nothing else happened that day, and she was allowed to go home in peace, consuming a quick dinner along the way, then collapsing on her soft mattress once more.

At least, until she started her next round of duties. But the tattoo would be quick to wake her when it was time.

Description
A groan escaped her as sunlight pierced the cracks between the window and the curtain she'd drawn only two hours before. No…no, it was far too early. It couldn't possibly be morning…could it?

Letting out a huff, the elf slowly rolled the covers back, and set two pale, narrow, and somewhat large—but not too large, dammit—feet on the floor, looking into her bleary, black eyes as she stared at the mirror.

The disguise had lasted through the night, it seemed. The thought of it brought a smile to her face as she stood up to comb through her messy black hair. Far too much of it, really, but it had its benefits. No one noticed the points on her ears that marked her elven heritage, and more importantly, the disguise's magic was strong enough to make the enormous white wings hanging off her back disappear when she willed it. Grey eyes and blonde hair left as well. She looked like Sari today, not like Lica, or more importantly, Angel.

She dragged the comb through her hair, making the thick black waves into something managable. A sigh escaped her as she dragged on all the rediculous plate mail and red cloth that made up the armor of the Amnian guards. The whole ensemble was rediculously bulky. She was a slight woman, and liked to be viewed as such, since she was so bloody tall as it was. Three mercenaries had approached her in the past few days, thinking she was that assassin that had killed a nobleman some few days ago. Idiots. Not every tall, heavily-armored woman with black hair was a murderous weapon master, after all.

Her morning toilette was completed precisely ten minutes later, and set out, her hair neat, her clothes clean, and her shoe laces pulled in no less than an inch. She was particular about these sort of things. Her sisters often teased her for her meticulousness, but it served her well. Particularily when dealing with the less-than-lawful denizens of the Bridge District.

Like most days in Athkatla, the temperature was blistering hot, and dryer than the bristles of a broom. Mercifully, she wasn't one of those women that sweated with the slightest increase in temperature, and simply shifted uncomfortably in her armor as she set out, rather than making it soggy from perspiration. She'd forget though, once she started working.

"Any news on the skinning incidents, Aegisfield?" She asked her partner as she strode forward.

"None yet. There's some adventurers working on it though." He commented, handing her a cup of coffee—black, one sugar, no more than precisely two teaspoons of cream. "They're speaking to Rose Boquet now."

"I don't think it's wise to involve civilians."

"True, but we need all the help we can get." The man shrugged his thick shoulders. "You know, they were pretty famous in Baldur's Gate. Took care of that iron crisis in Nashkel and such."

"And that makes them qualified to deal with serial killers?" She remarked with open skepticism.

"More qualified than the usual crowd of amatuer sleuths."

"I suppose." She took one last sip of her coffee before tossing it into a nearby trashcan. The contents of the item were beginning to build up, the putrid smells of rotten fish, stale ale, and the vomit that often resulted from each item wafting from beneath the lid. Someone would need to clean it out soon, but since when did anyone give a damn? It was the Bridge District. It had niether the help of the government, nor the Shadow Thieves to support its infrastructure.

Resisting the urge to empty and desanitize the contraption herself, Sari smiled wryly to Aegisfield. "I'll take southside patrol today, if you don't mind."

"Suit yourself. Let me know if you hear anything about the murders."

The officers waved goodbye to each other, before setting off on their patrols. Sari's began at the intersection between the Five Flagons and the estate of that new Calimshite merchant. Saerk, or something. He seemed quiet enough, she supposed. No problems with him.

"Good morning, Reedle." She greeted as she approached the halfling vendor. "Those louts from the Bladewalker gang aren't still giving you trouble, are they?"

"Not a word. Thank yeh for speakin' ter them, Officer."

"It's no trouble." She said with a smile, quite proud of herself. She'd been on the force for only a year or so, and she was glad to help out. The Bridge District sorely needed it, after all.

"Any new catches?"

"Aye! And there'll be more by lunch!"

"I look forward to it." Despite the questionable brown tinge of the fish, she believed Reedle Lightfoot sold the best seafood in the city, and was more than willing to pay a few gold for a cut of it.

But she would have to wait for that. Her duties took precedence.

Everything appeared business as usual in the district. Halflings and humans ran about, children played in the streets, and such. Even little Faraji was out, playing with his friends while sticking his little fingers into men's pockets. She let it go this time. No need to put the boy through more. Poor thing must have been scared to death, since he was the one to find the last victim of the skinning murderer.

She supposed she should have questioned him at that point, but Aegisfield had assured her that someone was working on it. No doubt the boy would try to blame Mrs. Cragmoon, who was no more murderer than she was a moon elf or half-orc.

As a nearby child tossed his brother into a pile of rotting fish, leading his mother to scold him, Sari shook her head. The children she'd grown up with were far too petrified to fight. Their mothers, or whomever sufficed as such, had told them that the winners of those fights would be noticed by the guards. And the guards would report to their superiors, and before they knew it, the winner would be sold to some pit master, and made to fight against monsters, rather than other children. No child wanted to be seperated from their friends, or family, if that was available, only to be killed in an arena. It was a far greater threat than any boogeyman.

But the thoughts left a sour note in her mind, she turned her gaze, hoping to distract herself from those memories.

A party of adventurers caught her notice as she passed by, halfway through the door of the Five Flagons. The leader appeared to be the same woman she'd encountered in the promenade just a month ago, when that damned mage had appeared, making enough trouble to force a section of the district to collapse. She seemed to be staying out of trouble, however.

Her companions were interesting, to say the least. A huge warrior who kept peeking into his pack, and whispering to someone named, "Boo", as well as an elven druid who frowned upon everything she looked at. They'd been with him at the promenade, as had the thief, from Kara-tur. She'd always wanted to visit the region. One of her sisters was training at some dojo there, and whenever she visited, she always had fascinating tales to tell, as well as clever moves to use while fighting.

The red-haired girl was a noble, she knew. But she had a keen interest in the disenfranchised, often preaching about social change to the deaf ears at the Coronet. Some of her colleagues had laughed over the girl's ideas, finding them silly and naïve. Still…Sari supposed that she could understand why someone would need to hope for change. Be better if she went out and did something about it, however.

She knew the little drow that trailed after them, chuckling a little as she leaped onto the blond paladin's back, and cried out, "Onward, my valiant steed!" much to his amusement, or annoyance. Sari couldn't tell which. Still, seeing that unihibited mischief, and joy, she wondered how the woman bothering the paladin was the same woman she'd tackled only days before for trying to assassinate Lord Firkragg, or that she was related to the officer's sour and sarcastic foster mother. Looks could be decieving, after all.

The bearded man was a follower of the Radiant Heart. He'd visited with the priest of Helm in the district every so often, but other than that, she knew little of him. The blonde girl, though, dressed in orange mage robes, she knew well.

It was always so strange to see another avariel elf, especially when the only one she knew, besides herself, was her late mother. Still, this poor girl had no wings, and it was certainly not because of any disguise, as Sari had. No, more likely they'd become infected during her stay at the circus. Years of being stuffed into crates and cages didn't leave much room for a young girl to stretch her wings, she reminded herself bitterly.

They soon passed through the door, and she took a few steps forward, only to knock into a familiar figure, both of them falling to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Mister Reijek." She chuckled to the tanner, offering him a leather-clad hand. "I'm a bit clumsy today, it seems."

"It's no trouble." He replied with a friendly smile, taking her hand with his own weather-beaten and gnarled fingers, soon standing up. "Have a good day, Officer."

"You too, Sir." She replied, walking off.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Two reports on robberies that had been done in the night, solving a dispute between a ship's captain and two ogre dockhands, and breaking up a potential mugging.

As she continued on her rounds, a group of mercenaries passed by, one of them daring to reach down, and pinch her buttocks.

"Sorry, miss. Me 'and slipped." He informed her, earning a chuckle from his friends.

She gave him a wan smile, before calmly reaching down, grabbing his hand, and snapping back his index finger, causing it to break with a loud crack, just as her sister had shown her. "Oops. My hand slipped."

"Bitch! How dare you--"

"Move along, citizen." She interrupted sharply, drumming her fingers along the guard symbol on her spear. They wouldn't dare kill an officer.

This theory was proven correct, as they soon shuffled off, the offender still cursing about his fingers. Her action had been rash, she supposed, but it was a better choice than allowing him to get away with such a thing. Sure, she supposed she was pretty enough. She had angelic features, a soft face and full lips, but that didn't mean she was some pretty little twit! She was an officer, and deserved to be respected as such. Dammit.

A little chuckle sounded from nearby, and Sari had to groan, easily recognizing that voice.

"Kaiden Thornheart, is it your mission to harrass me on a daily basis?"

The man was part of some new mercenary group. The Peacekeepers, they were called. They seemed to be in the Bridge District every day, or at least every day that Balthis called for them to take care of some problem. No doubt they were investigating the issue of the fallen paladins the Radiant Heart had reported some time before.

"Not on a daily basis." He grinned, smoothing his fingers through his neatly cut brown hair.

"I sincerely doubt that." She replied in bland voice, continuing on her rounds, while he fell into place beside her, slipping his hands behind his head in a casual gesture.

"I could make it nightly, actually. What do you say? You, me, margharitas in the moonlight?"

"I'd say you're about to fall into a storm drain." She said with a smirk, watching as his foot slipped.

Sari snapped out her wrist and caught him by the arm, but severely underestimated her own strength. The muscle on his six foot frame was enough to send her plummetting to the ground with a loud, metallic clank, her arm dangling in the sewer as he climbed up.

"Nice catch, Sari." He complimented, standing to his feet. "Still sure you don't wanna go to the bar with me? I could get play tickets. Five Flagons. My treat."

"What makes you think I would change my mind in the space of thirty-four seconds?" The officer asked, rolling her eyes as she stood up, dusting her armor.

"Thirty-four? You've been counting? Wow." Kaiden chuckled, reaching into her pocket and grabbing one of her pens, twirling it back and forth between his fingers. "I figured that you just saved my life and all, you secretly care more than you let on. We could discuss this further, you know…over margharitas in the moonlight."

"Give that back!" She snapped, snatching the pen back and quickly pocketing it. "That's mine. In fact, that's officer's property. And it's a felony to steal!"

"It's a pen, Sar." Kaiden chuckled. "But I suppose you would press charges for something like that. Though you always have so many with you, I figured that you could spare a few."

"Damn it! I am on duty, Mr. Thornheart! Now leave me alone or I'll--" She came to an abrupt stop, seeing the same mercenaries from before engaged in battle against someone. Tall, bulky armor, black hair…probably some stupid bar fight.

Charging towards the scene she shouted, "In the name of the council, I am here to keep ord--"

That was all she got out before the tall, black-haired woman cursed, and threw a punch that nailed her right in the throat. Sari collapsed to her knees, sputtering and coughing. No one, no one she knew could punch that hard. Not even her monk sister! And more importantly, that slug to her throat was completely unnecessary! It wasn't her damn fault that she had to say that stupid line again and again…

"Sari!" Kaiden rushed forward, helping her up, just as the mercenaries and the woman ran off. "Are you alright? Is there anything I can--"

"Kill. Bitch. NOW." She forced out between coughs, jabbing a finger in the direction of the woman and her enemies.

He nodded, unsheathing the two katanas he carried on his back, then chasing after her, several other men dressed in red armor following.

Rubbing a hand against her sore throat, Sari winced. Kaiden and his friends would take care of things. Probably grab all of them and take them to his order, or such. It wasn't her problem.

A wheeze of a sigh escaped her as she looked around, seeing the witnesses. A local woman, Juanita, her son, Antonio, and a dwarf she didn't recognize.

She was about to speak with Juanita and Antonio, when she realized the dwarf had disappeared. Her acute ears picked up the sound of a creaky door closing, and she spun around, seeing the door to the nearby derelict home close.

Sending a quick smile towards the mother and child, the officer approached the building, rapping her knuckles against the entrance. "Open up! Amnian guard!"

That same dwarf opened up, giving her a smile that was so wide, it was downright creepy.

"I wasn't aware that this place had a new tenant." She announced pleasantly, trying to keep her suspicion hidden. "Sir, may I come inside and you a few questions?"

"Why certainly, miss!" He replied quickly, all but grabbing her hand and pulling her inside the building.

No one in this district ever wanted to speak to officers, she recalled, holding her spear close as she stepped inside. "Did you witness the fight that just took place outside this building, sir?"

"Hee hee! I certainly did, miss." He chortled, making chills crawl like spiders up her spine. "Care to hear every detail?"

"I'll ask the questions, sir." She replied abruptly. "Could you describe the fighting parties to me?"

"I've a riddle for you." The dwarf said with a giggle.

"That's nice, sir, but I'd rather hear about the fight that just took place."

"Oh, you don't want to hear about that woman and her little friends. Take it from me." His smile became nasty. "One by the river, two by the mill. Half that many next to the window sill. Three by the gates, and two in the barn. One was buying cake, the other their mother's knitting yarn. Two snatched in the night, four died of fright. And the last girl, she let out not a trill, not even as I slit her throat on the hill. Tell me, officer, how many children did I kill?"

That is a *terrible* riddle, she thought to herself as she reached for her handcuffs. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to come back to the garrison with me."

But he disappeared into thin air before she could reach him, faint little giggles escaping different parts of the room for the next minute and thirteen seconds. She stood perfectly still, her knees bent and her spear in hand. Listen closely, listen for the giveaway, and…there!

The butt of her spear rammed into his side, stopping him from digging a knife into her arm. But as she approached him, he leapt up from the ground, burying his knife deep into her thigh.

Sharp, hot pain laced through her leg, causing her to break out in the sweats she rarely had, and leaving her hands shaking and clammy. It wasn't the knife. She'd been stabbed before, many times. There was something vile coating the blade. Something she needed to get rid of, and fast.

The blade her spear was planted deep into the dirt floor, and she yanked out a knife. She was no good with polearms. No, she could give him a knife fight, if that was what he wanted.

The little dwarf's giggles echoed out again, and she waited for his breathing to become audible, waited for him to get just close enough that she could grab his wrist, snapping out her knee and sending it straight into his nose. The blow was hard enough to make his eyes water, blinding him just long enough to slash her knife over his throat, cutting his windpipe, and his jugular.

A few sinister giggles echoed about the room once more, coming not from him, but from other sources. Four, from what she could tell.

"Damn it." She cursed, dropping his corpse to the ground as four, child-like spectres appeared, knives in their own hands.

Biting her lip, she clenched her knife close, and concentrated. The tattoo that had hidden itself in her hair flared to life, the black, sinwey lines of magic seeping out of her skin and taking form, coiling about the spectres before they could escape.

She killed each of them cleanly and methodical. They did not bleed or scream, they simply disappeared as she cut their throats, leaving only a pearl behind.

A scowl crossed her face as a tress of platinum blonde appeared on her shoulder, and several feathers poked out from her back, disappearing the moment the tattoo returned to her form, settling over her eyes and hair once more, and turning both pitch black. She was too reliant on the thing, she knew. But she had no idea what was coursing through her system at the moment.

As she stepped towards the door, something caught her eye. The bookshelf held three books, two of which were upright, the last of which had fallen.

The officer bit her lip. It was out of order…but it was a crime scene…and she was poisoned. She'd have to stop herself.

Slowly, she wrenched herself away from the distressing sight, and stepped outside, smiling as she caught sight of Mrs. Cragmoon.

"If you would, ma'am," She called out in a raspy voice, "I could use your assistance."

The woman nodded, rushing over and quickly pulling an antidote out of her pack, and passing it to the officer. "On the house, dear. You look as if you're about to stumble over."

"I feel that way." She said with a little chuckle, dipping back the bottle and gulping back the potion, feeling better instantly. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome. And in the future dear, think of following procedure, and calling for back-up." Cragmoon shook her head. "You young things think you're invincible and such."

"That poison is making me think differently, not to worry." Sari chuckled again, despite herself. The woman sounded much like her foster mother, scolding yet endearing, in her way. "And I won't say a word about the potions."

"I trust you won't, dear." Cragmoon gave her a wizened smile. "Now then, I believe you have a duty to see to."

"Yes, ma'am." Sari nodded, before pulling out a wisp, intent on reporting the incident to her headquarters.

The scene was inspected quickly after that, and she was allowed to continue her duties. Mercifully, nothing else happened that day, and she was allowed to go home in peace, consuming a quick dinner along the way, then collapsing on her soft mattress once more.

At least, until she started her next round of duties. But the tattoo would be quick to wake her when it was time.