A broad, squat figure was sitting on the edge of a drop upon the mountain. A large beard, almost as long as its owner, dangled down from a strong chin. A mace hung over one shoulder, covered by a small sheild, perfectly suited for the size of the dwarf. A helm covered much of the dwarfs face, letting his dark brown eyes glisten through the eye holes. Borgin had come up these mountains looking for the old releif of strong earth. Many dwarven mines were located in mountain ranges, and this high spike, though lacking a mine, reminded Borgin somewhat of his home. He enjoyed the sheer fun of a good hike through the trecherous trails, the sharp cleen air. He had also heard that there might be a couple of good troll and orcs scattered about the mountain. he might go off looking for one for a bit of sport. Nothing like basking in a couple of orc skulls.

Borgin stood up, streching his four foot and more frame. Time to be moving on now. Gripping his newer weapon, a throwing axe, dwarven bow to Borgin, he turned to look about the mountain. There was a path to his left, a small ways upward. It was a little rocky, probably a good way to get ones head split open. A couple of places below it lay another path, less rocky. it led to what looked like very far off caves. Borgin would probably nead to head that direction for finding a good orc or two. Rolling his shoulders, he drew his small brow cloak about him nd began to walk toward the lower path.

"Brrrr." was just about the only thing she had said in a long while. Not that she was actually trying to talk, because on the moutain she was rather alone.
She wasn't even entirely sure how she had gotten here. Various wanderings brought her all over the place in this plane, and she had just... ended up here. She had been inside of the moutain. There were lots of caves and tunnels, and she had been having fun, but then she had run into orcs, and had had to run for obvious reasons.
Unfortunately, she had run right into a band of goblins, strange little grabby creatures. She had been lucky - rather than killing her on the spot she had been tied up, poked and prodded with cold, slimy fingers and then brought back to their camp site. She had tried to morph, but some magic had stopped her.
While the goblins discussed what to do with her, some looked at her hungrily, and others came over and felt and squeezed her arm's and legs, checking her.
Scared witless, she had only escaped when the orcs, following her sent, had appeared on the group of goblins. The spell was lifted, and she morphed to mist and floated out of the area.
Floating through the earth had made her claustraphobic, and whatever equipment and protective clothing she had brought was now deep below. She usually didn't need them anyways, she preferred running to fighting.

Now on the top of some chilly mountain, she was trying to get down. She had reverted to her hottest form, demoness, also known as succubus, for the heat that it provided. Her skin was actually on fire, although not much. The only problem was that as a demon she was more vulnerable to the cold.

While walking toward the far distant caves, Borgin's mind began to wander through the memories he had collected in the last almost two-hundred years. He thought of the caves hewas born in. He missed the hammer and the forge, the smell of iron being heated and shaped into masterful weapons. His arms had longed for the anvil and the furnice, to shape raw metals into masterful works of art, whether they be weapons, armor, or decorations. It wandered form the forge to the mines. The smell of raw earth and stone, the sound of pick and shovel being forced onto the rock. The sight of new veins that wielded more treasure. Mythral, adimantite, diamand, rubies. He often dreamed of the wonderful exhileration of the dig. Then his memories focused on the time he left the mine. He had met Gwerinarie then. Normaly an elf and dwarf could comprimise at best, but for some reason, he had fallen in love. She had returned his feelings, and had traveled with him for over two years of his life. Then one morning, just as in the foolish humans' stories, she was not there. he had looked for her for the greater part of that year, but had not even caught the shadow of her shadow. It had wounded him deeply, and though he still hoped to see her again, his main attitude toward elves had retrned to the original state that most dwarves held to. He had alos began to wonder whether it was time to leave his memories of her and find someone else. He had seen a couple of atractive women above the deep tunnels of the earth, even considered getting to know them.

Lost in his thoughts, Borgin stumbled over a pile of rubish in his path. Stopping and leaving the confines of his mind, he turned around to see what had nearly cost him his kneck. The corpses of about five goblins, and mabye three orcs littered the path where he had just walked. They looked as if they had killed each other, over something. It was hard to tell that, becuase both orcs and goblins would kill on a whim, and two bands meeting each other would definatley spark a fight. The only thing that gave away a trophy to get were the ropes that lie in the middle of the fight. Obviously, one had cuaght a person on these trails and tied them up before the other came. Somehow, they had escaped through the fray and made it away. From the tracks, they had come up through one of the caves not far from here. Looking down the mountain, Borgin saw similar bodies littering the side. they had thought to chase the escapey, but had killed off everyone of their numbers. Borgin looked up the mountain. it was the only reasonable place for someone to go when the corpses of the vermin littered the lower slopes.

Grummbling a little, Borgin drew his cloak tight around him. The higher one climbed a mountain, the colder it got. Cold couldn't bother a dwarf normaly, but if it stayed in a feirce cold too long, it would experience some unpleasentnesses. Borgin took the mace from his back, thought for a moment, then replaced it. It would do no good if he slipped. His axe would be more suited to the job of latching on to anything, though not by much. As Borgin climbed higher, he began to see a faint trickle of steam and smoke not far off. He frowned deeply, bringing his beard, nearly as long as himself, up a full two inches. Who and how had somone started a fire this high up. Must be some sort of magician or wizard. Well, at least he would be warm if he found them. As he redirected hinmself slightly toward the smoke, a thought entered his mind. If they had been able to use magic, why had they fled from the goblins and orcs. Surley if they couldstart a lively little fire on the top of a mountain, they could destroy a couple of beasts like those. Mabye they were just lucky enough to get the fire started. Borgin decided to pick his pace up a bit. He did nopt normaly go out of his way to help people, but any person endangered by a bunch a funny faced, killing freaks deserved a buit of help.

Borgin trudged through a deepening snow, keeping his eye on the smoke. He was much closer now. He could see it comming from behind a large stone jutting up from the mountains face. Calling out, he said, "Any body there? Saw whatcher left down the mountain, or rather, what was after ya. Do ye need help." He rounded the stone and stopped ion his tracks. A flaming, litteraly flaming, demoness was sitting in the snow, shivvering. A succabis by the looks of it. "Blody, flamin....," he yelled, grabbing for his mace and shield. hwy had the goblins been so eager to find this.

Altara jumped backwards when she heard someone behind her yelling, and let out a little scream.
"Please don't hurt me!"
She was too tired to run, and there was no where to go. She just sank to the ground and splayed her arms, showing that she had no weapons.

The only thing that truely stayed Borgins hand was the suppprising recation of the succubus. He had never heard, or heard of, a demoness scream or cower, yet this one was doing so. He lowered his mace, but kept his shield ready, just in case she had an surpprises for him. He observed her closer for a moment. besides being on fire, she was freezing and appeared to be unarmed. 'Alright, I won't be harmin ye, but ye got some explainin ter do. First, why in the world were ye runnin from a bunch a goblins'" Borgin asked in a gruff tone. Before she had time to answer, he swung off his cloak. "Ye give me yer word ye ain't gonna pull any funny trick on me, I might be inclined to lend ye me cloak. And if ye can turn off the fire." He waited for her answer, going through what he had seen on the way up.

For some reason, this demon had run from a band of goblins and orcs. Normaly, it would have beeen able to overwhelm them easily, probably make them think it was a supreme being of a sort. It had run, however, and for some reason the bands had followed it out of the mountain. Borgin suddenly realized something. He had seen no tracks of the succubus running up here, only the trails of the goblins and orcs. Borgin realized that this demoness might not be a true demon. She might be a shaoe shifter. HE decided to wait until she answered his previous questions before proposing that one.

"They had captured me when I wasn't ready. I had only just escaped the orcs, and then I ran into the goblins. They had a magic-user and they stopped me from changing or using magic -I couldn't do anything, it's not my fault!"
Less scared now that the dwarf wasn't charging her, she calmed down a bit. When she heard his demand, she nodded.
She got up and walked behind a convieniently placed rock, one that he could still see her head over.
"The fire... well... I'm not decent when I'm not in demoness form. Can you toss the cloak over the rock?"
She concentrated, and the fire on her skin faded away, and the reddish-tinge of her skin receded. Her horns pulled back into her head, and her tail back into her tail bone.
A human stood behind the rock now.

Borgin listened camly to what she had to say, nodding as she walkwed behind the large stone he had heard her behind before, though at a different angle. "Here ye go," he said tossing it over the top of the rock. "Bloody shy woman," he said to himself, but did not bother keeoing it low. He had never seen the nead for that kind of modesty, though many others had. it had gotten him into a few choice arguments befroem, so now he just delt with it. He still never asked any one to di the same for him. They could do what ever they wanted, short of rudeness in his book.

"So, yer not a demon, eh? Then what are ye," he asked. AFter that, he added," And di ye get through the moutain? I saw the tracks of the two bands, but noithing that could be yer's." He waited for the answer as she rapped his cloak around heraself. He wondered whether it would keep her warm. It was specialy desined for trave,ling dwarves. It could be shortened then fastend for walking, yet it could also be lengthened and serve as a cover if one ever had to sleep out doors. it was just longer than a human cloak when lengthened, so it should cover her fairley decent.

As a human, some senses from her other forms carried over. Like good hearing.
"Bloody shy woman." As she was putting on the cloak and adjusting it, she replied to that, though he probably wasn't expecting an answer.
"I was more doing that for you than for me. Most dwarves I've met are a bit conservative about that." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, I'm part mermaid, demoness and felyne. None of those cultures are very into the human ideal of "decency"."
Now securely wrapped in the surprisingly warm cloak, she came out from behind the rock.
"I'm more than just a demoness, actually. I'm several species, mixed together through genetic splicing. I'm not sure how, or why they did it, but they did, and here I am. Part mermaid, human, succubus and felyne."
She walked towards him as he asked the second question.
"Like this."
With a thought, the cloak dropped to the ground, and a red mist rose from where Altara's body had been. A few seconds later she reformed, and quickly put the cloak back on.
"Don't ask me to do that again, it's a bit tiring."
"So... hi!"

This woman, or whatever she was, seemed preaty energetic to Borgin. has actualy bewildered at her amount of energy, or at least the display of it. He watched interestedly as she changed into a redish mist, then back to human, pulling the cloak around herself once again. "Well thats interestin," he muttered. "So, where ye headed? if ye want, I'll travel with ye fer a ways. In case ye run into any more of those little scum bags." He waited for her response.

(Sorry its short)

( it's cool )

Altara agreed immediately, making a snap descision as she always did. It usually worked out for her. Well... more than 50% of the time.
"That would be great, but I don't have an exact destination. I'm just... going where I feel like it. I'll just go with you wherever you're going, if that's all right."
"I don't have an exact path, and by that I mean I don't have any path at all. If you have any suggestions as to where we could go, I'll all for it! I'm a stranger in a strange land, so I'll trust the natives."

Borgin listened to Altara's little explenation before speeking. "Well, I ain't a native 'round here. I think the only ones o' them would be those fellers you annoyed down ther. Though I might appriciate the comp'ny." Hesitating, Borgin wondered whether he should tell her his original plan. Sighing, he did. "As a matter o' fact, I was a plannin to make me way down ter those bloody little creatures caves to stir up a little ruccus. If ye don't want ter join, I could help ye get outer this here mountain and back to some ol' city." he would actualy anjoy her company, he realized, no matter what she chose. It had been a long time since he had had a decent conversation with someone else.