Feirste stepped out of a short building that was a shabby looking place. Only having one floor, the walls old looking wood, the wide windows facing the front with items in them, were musty, looking like they haven't been cleaned in the longest of times. But looks didn't matter to the white dragon much, as long as he sold a few of the little trinkets he finds that doesn't have a use to him, then he was happy. He was sort of a merchant you could say in a way, but, not really, he preferred using a sword, and staying in his cave sleeping on his mound of gold and diamonds.

The strange human looking figure walked out into the middle of the street, his long pure white hair whipping around his near white face, even though it was pulled back. He strode down the street, not minding the somewhat chilly air, he wished it could be colder like in the high mountains.

He turned down the merchants street, vendors on either side of the buildings, people bustled and shouted, some of the merchants behind the tables called out to people of what they sold. The noise was annoying, but tolerable. He pushed his way along, heading towards the stables, but immediately stopped as a small figure brushed past him. He lashed out, grabbing the little thieves shirt collar and yanked the young boy back. Feirste's eyes were colder then a ice storm as he glared down at the boy.

He then held out his other hand expectantly. The boy, knowing his wouldn't get away with his prize, plopped the coin purse in the gloved black hand. Feirste held tightly to the purse, then smirked slightly, before shoving the boy away from him roughly, making the boy trip. Feirste resumed his striding, and passed the market area, and went down another street, this one a emptier then the last one, there were only a few people.

What a boring day this seemed to him. He didn't have much to do, he just sold the last of his trinkets that were useless, so now he had nothing left to do except tr to find that wench Lilith. The time in Norwood was a failure, and he didn't want to lose the human again. His eyes grew dimmer as his hatred for Lilith burned.

He wondered for a bit how he could get revenge on Lilith, and he considered meeting up with Mia Rivka again, maybe she knew where Lilith was. He shook his head, no need to think of that now, he wanted to get to Grimm and get home.

Astalder peered down at the city he loved with a gentle look in his eyes. He sat perched a top a tall chapel that overlooked the northwest end of Taras. He studied this end, for it was the slightly more busy than the others during the day. The hustle and bustle seemed almost non-existent though, as only a few specs moved around the giant city. Astalder scanned the area watching a couple chit chat, two men exchange items, a child chase his pet around, and something not so pleasant. He watched man take hold of a boy, looking as if to strike him. Astalder stood and unsheathed his sword, spreading his wings as well. He was prepared to get violent as long as the man was prepared. The boy handed something over and then ran off. Astalder chuckled a little, What a low life, stealing from a child... Which, from Astalder's perspective, that's exactly what it looked like. However, this thief had a very straight forward way to go about things.

The Elf leapt off the high tower and floated gently down to the ground and began to pursue the criminal, his blade re-sheathed. When he got close enough to the figure he could see the man was approximately Astalder's height, yet much skinnier and almost ill looking. His hair was the purest of whites, which in a way complimented his abnormally pale skin tone. Astalder quickened his pace a bit, careful to be as silent as an Elf could be. He didn't want to ruin the rude surprise just yet. Astalder enjoyed giving people a quick jump as a first impression, although he knew it would probably one day get him killed, he enjoyed the rush all the same.

Still being as quiet as possible he laid an arm around the man's shoulder and looked up at the sky. "You know if you're that desperate for money that you need to rob a child, I recommend you switch over to begging. It's a little more legal and people like me would be happy to give you money. You see..." Astalder looked at the man now. "... this city has a lot of eyes. Some of these eyes don't take nicely to the sights of, oh let's say for the sake of argument, rape or killing or vandalism or stealing maybe? In a way I'm a set of the cities eyes, but I'm not the typical set. I'm a little more lenient than the rest. The other eyes, they'll do bad things to you, and no one wants that. So here's my warning," Astalder let go of the man and stepped in front of him with his arms folded across his chest. "don't let me catch you doing something illegal again or I promise you won't have many useful limbs to steal with..." he said in a grave tone and his eyes flashed with lighting. "Ok then?" he finished in a cheery and happy tone that was down right mocking.

Feirste wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings, his thoughts drifting to so many different things, occasionally the sorceress girl, but mainly to home, and what he should eat, maybe he'd go get a whale or something if he felt like eating something fancy. After a while, he thought he heard someone behind him, but barely noticeable, so he didn't pay much attention but he was ready for anything. His boots hit lightly on the cobblestone road.

As soon as the elf touched Feirste shoulder, he stopped abruptly, not really surprised, mostly annoyed. He tilted his head towards the stranger, listening to him talk, as he stayed silent, but he couldn't help but smile somewhat. He stood completely still, waiting for the elf to finish. Then the man released him, and stood in front of him. Feirste, or, right now, as humans and others would call him as Shile Frost, as it was his alias.

The elf was finally done talking, but he stayed silent for a moment, his icy eyes watching the man calmly a moment, then decided to finally speak.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, sir, but it was the other way around. I'm not desperate for money, I have quite plenty enough, but I can't tolerate when little thieves take my gold from me." He said calmly. The only reason he wanted his gold, because he was quite greedy when it came to jewels and coins. "I don't break the laws, good sir. I never have, and never will. Stealing from a child is cruel." He said, running a hand through his white hair.

He couldn't be quite about the laws and such, because he did break them often, he had even helped kill a woman and burn her house in the Norwood village, just because it wasn't the real Lilith, and when he got a chance to kill the real Lilith he was after, then he would be breaking the law often, he would already be considered a murderer, well, ever since the beginning he has killed some people, but he never stole.

He smiled somewhat again, his eyes still cold.

"I guess elf eyes aren't as sharp as they say." He laughed somewhat, which sounded hollow.

Astalder studied the man as he pleaded his side of the story. It was typical for a criminal to make up some bizarre twist. Whatever they had to do to get out of their situation. His was a bit different though, he seemed to have a bitter sureness in his voice. Astalder quirked an eyebrow, true it was common for children around the city to steal working men to give to their parents to pay taxes after all. The Elf scratched his elbow, then undetected shot his fingers out towards the man in front of him. He wanted to dip into the mans thoughts, to see if he was thinking something different, but alas he wasn't. He seemed to be recalling when the child brushed into him, he also felt a hand swiftly grab at something. What it was Astalder did not know, but this was enough to convince him that this man was no criminal, or at least did not steal from the child.

The two men stood in silence for a moment, each attempting to figure the other one out. The man then seemed to take a bit of a stab at his Elven heritage. Going along with the joke Astalder managed to let out a "Paha..." His eyes may not have been able to see the tiny thief steal something from this man, but that did not mean they weren't sharp. Perhaps he'd been so caught up in shady adults that he'd overlooked the possibility that a child was the real criminal. What ever it was it did not matter any longer, the man had what he wanted and the child was gone. Regardless, Astalder had a funny feeling about this man and he decided to see if he could get to know him better, hopefully detect his lies when he threw them out there.

"My sincerest apologies my good sir. Perhaps I've been too close to the edge of things as of late," he said in a stale tone. "Please accept this offer as a token of my deepest regret for my mistake. I would like to buy you a drink, I think we could both use one honestly." he said, putting his arm around the man's shoulder and leading him to the nearest bar.

He let the silence come. He had nothing to say, but he didn't want to be the first to turn away, who knows, the man probably could easily try and take Feirste down if he still thought he was the thief. To bad he left his swords in the cave. Then the elf spoke again. The white dragon turned his eyes to watch the man, and hid the coming panic that always seemed to rise in him when these situations happened, but he hid his emotions well. But the last thing he wanted to do was go for a drink with a elf that had so recently accused him of being a thief, and would sometime, possibly figure out that the human Shile Frost was really a dragon, that lots of people considered crazed.

He didn't have anything to do really, except wanting to satisfy the hunger he felt, but that could always wait, even if hunting could be a bit long at times, but he let the elf lead him towards the closest bar anyway. It was always good that he couldn't get drunk easily, unlike normal humans, but that was also a bad thing, but good in a way. Last he wanted was to somehow end up drunk and blabber about how his a white dragon, and how he freezes his food before eating it, and how he's spending everyday basically to hunt Lilith down.

All he could do was smile and say "alright", as he hid his draconic hunger, and his anger. He walked along, his breath coming out in misty clouds as ones would in the dead of winter, but it was normal for him. He could never perfect his human form.

"I don't believe I ever got your name." He said in his calm tone of voice.

When they made it to the bar, Feirste stepped in. The smells were disgusting, too many people in one room, even if it wasn't that late yet. And the smell of alcohol wasn't so pleasant to the dragon either. Right now he wished he didn't have a sense of smell instead of being colorblind. His eyes swept about the room taking it all in, once more wishing he didn't have to be here.

He glanced at the elf, then gestured for him to lead the way for an empty table.

The two walked along a straight path towards the Cavorting Hog Tavern. The name was a bit disconcerting but it was the closest inn with a bar in it and Astalder could find no better way to learn about this man than to get him drunk. He was very thin as well, which meant he would hopefully become intoxicated within three or four ales. He had no truth serums nor did he possess a spell that could make him leak the truth about himself. On a normal basis the Elf would not be so obsessed with such a miniscule matter, but frankly he had nothing better to do at the moment and he could sense something off with the man he just so happened to stumble across.

He heard the man mention something about Astalder's name. He was hardly paying attention, the best answer he could muster up was a murmured "We'll get to that..." he said with an indifferent tone. Different names began flowing through his mind as he did not want to reveal his identity but he thought of a better idea. Perhaps he would be able to give his name, but make it seem like he was fibbing.

Astalder stepped inside the tavern first. No one looked up or acknowledged that he had entered which eased some of the pressure that gathered when he stepped in. They were certainly in the scummiest part of Taras and Astalder wasn't favored too much around this part of the city. If someone were to see he was within swinging distance, there was potential for a severe brawl. He jerked his head in the direction of the bar and took a seat in the middle.

"Two ales and two firewaters my good man," he told the bartender softly, throwing four silver coins on the wood. "These first few are on me, for my mistake." he said with a clever wink. The bartender finished polishing two tall mugs and filled them with a deep amber liquid that swam below a beige cloud of foam. He set the two mugs in front of the two men and proceeded to pull out two significantly smaller glasses, which he filled to the top with a clear looking liquid. The bartender set the new glasses in front of them men and leaned over to whisper something to Astalder.

"Good luck in here pal..." he said before wiping down the bar of excess liquids. Astalder heeded his warning, shooting his eyes as far left and right they would go. It seemed no one had noticed him yet but that could all change in a heartbeat. The Elf turned to the ill looking man. "Cheers..." he said lifting the shot of firewater and downing it in one gulp. Everything went hazy for a small period of time before it refocused and he saw straight again. The liquid burned down the back of his throat before exploding in his stomach, hence the name 'firewater'. This would certainly be a competition of willpower.

"Now you mentioned names earlier. Mine is uh... As...talder..." he said as uncertainly as possible. He truly hoped the man took the reverse psychology bait. "Indeed... My name is Astal-der." He heard some shuffling, grunts, and snickers build behind him. He was spotted now but all he could do was ignore it. He took a sip of his ale and turned to the man. "May I trouble you for your name now?" He heard men get up behind him and Astalder's heart sank...

Feirste walked to the bar, one step behind the elf. He sat on the left side of the elf. He didn't speak, he stayed completely silent, even his footsteps seemed quiet. Even as they went into the tavern, there was no breeze, but even so, a small breeze seemed to still flit around him. He rested his hands on his lap. Eyes closing briefly. Why didn't he bring his weapons with him. His eyes flitted to the side, feeling somewhat nervous in this place. At least he had his spells.

He turned his eyes to the drinks that came in front of him. He cocked his head, a slight smirk coming unto his face. He leaned forward somewhat. Firewater, hm... Its been forever since he last had that stuff, but it still shouldn't effect him much. He picked up the firewater, then tilted his head towards the elf.

"Cheers..."

His smiled widened as he downed the firewater. He felt it go down his throat, and explode in his stomach. It was delicious. He would defiantly try this stuff more often, but he certainly not want to add alcoholism to his list of problems. Then the elf spoke again.

"Now you mentioned names earlier. Mine is uh... As...talder..."

He looked at the elf again, thinking for a moment. Astalder. He heard the name before, but never met him before, and never knew much about the elf. Obviously, he was known, because of the noises behind them, the snickering and grunts. Feirte had only been in Imythess for a couple few years, but even as he spent lots of his time with humans, he didn't quite remember anything about this "Astalder". But, it seemed very likely that this man was who he says he was, but, Feirste decided to act like he didn't believe him, seeing as, the elf could also be just lying.

"Right, and I'm the king of Imythess..." He mumbled sarcastically to himself.

"May I trouble you for your name now?"

He laughed, his hollow laugh. "I suppose, but it would seem meaningless to me. My name is not as well known as yours, Astalder." He said, smirking, but it left soon. "People call me Shile Frost." Feirste said. He eyes glancing to look at the people who got up, who didn't look the friendliest people. So it must be true, Astalder was who he said, unless the people just despised anyone who had that name, Feirste was sure they wouldn't get up to get "Shile Frost", seeing as people looked at him as a merchant, not a fierce dragon, no one knew he was a dragon, except Lilith and Mia Rivka...

((OOC: sorry if it not the best...))

Celebriel walked through the city doing her best to avoid the busy market place. Her silver scales and horns drew enough attention as it was without her stepping into a crowed place. She sharp eyes then took notice of Astalder.

"Well...looks like the arrogant elf likes to come here too," she muttered to herself.

She then glanced over her shoulder to see many sets of eyes staring at her. With a sigh she walked forward towards the elf. Even the company of someone like Astalder was better than none at all in this setting. Besides he could introduce her to his interesting looking friend.

She followed them into the tavern and made her was careful through the patrons. "Well met Astalder," she greeted. "Seems we have crossed paths once again. How have you been since last we met?"

She then turned and smiled at Feirste. She pushed a strand of her long silver hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Her smile suddenly faded as she took a good look at the person. She could tell at once he was no normal man, but seemed to be of dragon blood like herself. Though she of course could not tell if he was only part or whole dragon just yet.

Her icy blue eyes glance to the elf then back to the dragon in man's form. From experince she knew what it was like to be hunted for being part dragon and did not want to bring that upon her full blooded kin.

Instead she put on a slightly nervous smile and said. "Hello. I am Celebriel. Might I know your name?"

The men that got up merely passed by, exiting in a typical drunken fashion, passing out the second they got out the door. Astalder exhaled a slight sigh of relief. He turned to the man, quirking an eyebrow at how he didn't seem to believe him. He was thankful that his plan worked but it seemed his name has gotten around, pinning him as some sort of celebrity. He never really thought of his name to be famous per se, but he never really did much to keep himself underground so to speak. He supposed he deserved this bit of give and take. Astalder tapped on the table, not too loud to alert any drunken yardbirds but loud enough for the bartender to hear hopefully. He returned placing two more shots of firewater in front of Astalder and the man.

"Well it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Shile Frost," he said, a little more concerned about any disturbances behind him. "To you then, good citizen Frost," he said raising his shot glass in acknowledgement and downing the liquid they way he had before. Astalder felt the alcohol sting his tear ducts it was so strong. He let out a little cough and massaged his sinus. He opened his eyes and the world took a few seconds before settling into place. Two shots weren't enough to get him gone.

Astalder then heard some incredibly bad news come from such a soft voice. It was that of Celebriel's, the half dragon he'd met at the Taras library along with several other mercs and warriors. "Well met Atalder..." was all he needed to hear for him to stoop in a painful looking slump. He felt a headache pound into his skull now and he began to rub his temples. His pseudo cover was blown now, there should be no doubt in Shile's mind now that Astalder was telling the truth...

"I've been...better," the Elf said bluntly to Celebriel. He looked up, the world began spinning, not from drunkenness so much as from his migraine. He felt as though his head was splitting in two. He grunted and tried to shake it off. He glanced over at Shile and Celebriel. The half dragon woman seemed to be offset by Shile's presence, as if she was just noticing something frightening or interesting about the man. It was then that Astalder noticed something as well. Shile's hair was still blowing around, however, there was no sign of wind or even a light breeze within the pub itself. Astalder's eyes widened a bit looking at the hair that blew much like his. Astalder learned to control this feat and normally only used it to scare off regular citizens.

"You're a Storm Ki-" he attempted to ask "You're a Storm Kindler?" but he was cut off by a muscular arm that wrapped around his neck. "Well lookie here boysh! It'sh Ashtal *hic* der, the non official vigilante prick!" The bar exploded with laughter. Wonderful, I am famous... he thought. The lack of air made it not only hard to breath, but also made his migraine that much worse. Astalder couldn't even see straight now, it felt like a nail was being driven into the jelly of his eye. "Where'sh all your back up heeeerooo?" again the bar erupted with laughter. Astalder was helpless and losing air, though there was enough room from him to vomit dangerously close to himself.

The bartender gave them more firewater, and Feirste smirked, eyes flashing slightly. He took the drink in his hand, looking at the liquid, eyes shifted to look at this Astalder again before shifting back to the drink. "Pleasure." He mumbled before downing the drik also, and shivered slightly from the affects it gave him. His eyes closed for a moment but snapped open when he heard a voice say the name Astalder. Well, that confirmed Feirste's thoughts, this was the Astalder.

Feirste, or Shile, turned his head to look at the person who spoke, and his mouth gaped open slightly. A half-dragon. He pulled himself together, and smiled slightly, but his eyes were cold again. If this half-dragon said something about him being a dragon, he would tear her apart. She continued to speak with Astalder, but then she looked at him, and he saw from her expression that she knew immediately what he was, but he tried to not think of it much, she won't say anything, if she knew what was good for her.

"Hello. I am Celebriel. Might I know your name?"

"Hello. I'm Shile Frost." He answered calmly, his smile still on his face, but it still never reached his eyes. He looked at Astalder, who seemed to have suddenly fallen ill or something. His eyes grew slightly confused, but it was soon gone with what he said.

"You're a Storm Ki-"

A Storm Kindler. Feirste smirked slightly. It wasn't a secret he kept. He's been one for so long now, lots of people knew, well, not all of those peasants and such. Suddenly, someone wrapped an arm around Astalder. Feirste looked at the muscular looking man, and his eyes narrowed coldly at the human. The laughter made his eyes grow only colder. Well, wasn't this a wonderful day. He could easily slip away unnoticed, or he could help Astalder, even if he was a cold hearted dragon. It wouldn't do well if everyone found out he was a complete wimp who only like to sleep and eat, and held a grudge against every snack that escapes him.

He glared at the human, barely taking notice of Celebriel anymore.

"Where'sh all your back up heeeerooo?"

Feirste smiled, and stood, hand clenching into a fist, a smile slipping unto his pale face. He then punched the man in a quick movement, his fist hitting the man in the face. The human had lost his grip from Astalder by the force of the punch, and the human flew a few feet before crashing down against table. Feirste shook his hand slightly, as if it hurt. He had not down that to anyone in the longest of times, mainly because of his inhuman strength.

"Damn drunk." He mumbled.

Celebriel watch as Feriste, or Shile Frost as he claimed to be threw a man into a table. He acted like his wrist was hurt, but she was not fooled. He was much stronger than he lead on to be. Dragon blood gave one many powers, strength being only one of them.

Her cold stern eyes then went back to the dragon. "Don't you think that was a bit uncalled for? Dealing with drunks is a waste of enegry," she said in her melodic elven voice.

She then cocked her head a bit and studied the 'man' a bit longer. "So you said you are Shile Frost? I must say that is an...interesting...name. Might I ask what brings you to Taras?"

She found his name completely and unterlly unorginal. Plus she felt it kind of gave away the fact that he was no normal mortal being. What human had the name 'Frost' afterall? Not in the over 100 years of her life had she ever met a man with a name such as that.

The half-dragon was wary of her full blooded kin. She knew she lacked the ability to battle him, especially if her transformed into his true shape. And by his appearence she guess him to be one of the frost type of dragons, which ment her spell would be next to useless against him.

With a sigh she look a seat next to Astalder. She looked at the elf with concern. He seemed to be in pain.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "Is something wrong with your head?"

Just before Astalder felt life slowly slip from him, the arm around his neck loosened and eventually flew off. The Elf immediately crashed to the ground, clawing the ground and gasping for air. He heard Shile mumble something and guessed it was he who took care of the drunken one. He got to his knees and struggled desperately to get back into his seat the bar. The room shook less and less as Astalder attempted to regain his focus. Wiped a hand down his face and though his vision was still a bit hazy, he could probably make it out the door without running into a wall or table.

" Ank... oo..." he managed to mutter. He sighed and rubbed at his temples vigorously to rid himself of the migraines that plagued him. He took a few more sips from his ale and breathed slowly and deeply. He heard Celebriel take the offense and verbally attack Shile slightly, as if she had an even stronger feeling about him than Astalder. Once Astalder felt like he could hold a semi-intelligent conversation he began.

"I hate to break up this wonderful small talk soiree, but bar fights around these parts don't end with a simple knockout." he said and immediately stood up and swung his fist, hitting nothing but air and instead running into a large fist. He stumbled back grabbing his jaw. It wasn't broken but he should have a handsome bruise on it tomorrow. He leaned against a wall, seeing dots for a few seconds before springing off, using Haste and tackling the offender out a window. The room erupted in chaos as chairs and tables were either flung around or bashed over other people. The bartender swore loudly and grabbed anything important looking and ducked under the bar.

Astalder got up and took a defensive stance looking to see where Shile and Celebriel were. This is what he gets for keeping Taras as safe as possible. He wiped some blood off his bottom lip with his thumb and unleashed a flurry of quick punches on an ogre of a man. The man merely laughed and grabbed hold of Astalder by the neck, lifting him in the air. The Elf gritted his, trying to wrench himself himself from the man's grip. He delivered a hard kick to the man's face which filled the room with a grotesque crunch as the blow broke his nose. The man dropped Astalder and fell backward yelping, covering his face with his hands.

Feirste turned and glared coldly at the half-dragon, his icy eyes never leaving the half-dragon. He heard her speak, but he only answered with a colder glare. He didn't care if Astalder saw his cruel look at the half-dragon, to others, it would just look like he disliked her kind. After a moment, his eyes flickered to look at Astalder, as he scrambled into his chair at the bar. His eyes stayed on the elf a moment, before glancing at the half-dragon again. He knew a fight will break out, and it made him inside tear with panic, even though, it not once, showed on his face.

People stood, and started fighting, Astalder tried to wing a punch only to get hit by one. After a moment, hoping the elf didn't see, Feirste turned on Celebriel, grabbing the base of her neck, and clenching his hand tight. He leaned close to the half-dragon, his voice radiating with coldness.

"Ruin this for me, and tell the elf what I am, I will hunt you down and crush you." He hissed quietly at her, then let her go, and took a step away from her, his eyes closing. A chair was flung towards him. He held his hands open, and muttered a quick word, his eyes flying open. Suddenly, using the spell propel, he made it appear around the chair, and flung it back at the man who had thrown it. It hit the human with a great force, making the human fall over with a bleeding nose.

A smile curled on his face. He then ducked as a punch headed his way, he then grabbed the mans hand and twisted it roughly, til there was a crack, and the man screamed in pain, then with his other hand, he clutched the mans throat, and Feirste muttered another word, till his hand was ice cold, making the man cough then go limp. Feirste let go of him, then tilted his head to see how the elf and half-dragon fared, though, the hal-dragon could go to the abyss for all he cared.