The one main road of the village was hustling and bustling in the evening hours; travellers rushing to taverns for ale and dinner, and shop keepers closing up for the night. They shouted incoherent orders to one another over the occasional rumble of thunder and slamming of protective metal bars over the doors of their precious shops. A rash of burgelaries and murders had taken place in the weeks before, and there was a tense atmosphere hovering over the village. Liannas wandered through the streets, her black cloak's hood concealing her bizarre apperance in an effort to remain as obsolete as possible...she didn't know what she was looking for, but rather found herself in this place at this time. Hostile eyes looked her way and it was all she could do to keep from hissing vehemently as many caught a glimpse of her raven hair or teal eyes, and thus she relied on keeping her head down, hoping to remain unseen. The rain began to pour now, cold and hard and stinging pellets of water biting the ground and the hood and shoulders of her cloak ferociously. It grew cold as the wind picked up and a hand flew to keep the hood of the cloak on; the wind did far stranger things to her already bizarre appearance. The cold worked it's way under the wool and coursed throughout her body, antagonizing her pale fingers and long, bare legs under the thick wool. Shopkeepers that were still open and seeling fruits and flowers and random trinkets could be heard cursing as the heavy rain worked on destryoing their goods, and the wind moaned over the wooden and thatched rooftops of the houses. Her hand gripped the brass trinket at her belt, it was an eight-pointed star, and it eminated a sort of eerie warmth. The ebony hair that poked out from undernieth the hood faded and seemed to dissapear if the wind blew just right, though it was harrd to tell if it was an illusion, and the wooden staff she carried made a splashing clunk with every step as it rapped along the cobblestones of the street, but it remained dry. She nearly ran headlong into someone as her gaze was focused on the tiny pebbles embedded in the dirt between the grey stones, but she did not look up. "I'm terribly sorry," she said quietly.

"No problem, ma'am." Isaac replied politely, stepping aside and allowing the lady to pass. Isaac had journeyed through the woods the day before and had ended up among the bandits. Being careful not to allow them to see he was not one of them, Isaac had covered his face with his hood and had continued onward, in a race to leave the village.

"You don't appear to be one of these bludgeoned fools," she said simply to the man's back, payhing no heed to the men around her who looked up sharply at her words. They had left her alone, the dagger she carried with the bloodstained blade had been warning enough against brutes who dared to try and molest her 'purity', or what one would consider worse. In any case, they were on the outskirts of the camp, should an escape be deemed necessary. Pushing back the hood of her cloak, raven locks cascaded over her shoulders to her elbows, and piercing turqoise eyes scanned the man over calculatingly.

The lady's voice pierced Isaac's guise like a spear. Deciding she was not one of the bandits either, Isaac turned around to face her, but didn't remove his hood.

"An elf, I presume? And what might your name be?"

She laughed hollowly. "Close," she said, not telling him anything more of her race. They were often considered valuable, for a bounty, so she had learned that descrepency was best, and she wouldn't share with him just yet, especially around these barbarians. "A name...hm. Brenia, like the flower," she said simply, an onyx eyebrow raised slightly. She had made him slightly uncomfortable, she could tell he wanted to remain anonymous...she wasn't cruel of heart necessarily, but cunning yes. "Tell me, sir...what is yours?" It wasn't terribly important to her, save to return the formality of his request, and she shifted her weight onto one leg as she watched the men mill about her from the corner of her eye.

Isaac also shifted slightly, his hand hovering about the sword on his belt under his cloak.

"Isaac. My name is Isaac." He replied with equal bluntness. Just then, a bandit man emerged from his nearby house, stared at the two carefully, his eyes lingering on the elf-like women, and walked away.

She started towrds the edge of the village-like encampment, gesturing quietly for him to follow. The bandits who occupied the camp were eyeing the both of them oddly, and it was best for her to leave. She fumbled in her pocket, feeling the sacks of gold she'd taken from them, and smiled at the irony that even such renowned bandits would let down their gaurd to be pickpocketed themselves. "Issac," she said with a nod. It was a fairly uncommon name, and beautiful. "Tell me, why would someone so cultured, juding by your mannerisms and appearance, be wandering about a village of rogues?"

Jeff watches form a distance, the person whom had been staring, and retreated to the shadows. "A... Dream Muse?" he said quietly, and no one heard him, or so he thought."Haven't seen one in ages..." he smiles and leaned resignedly on the tree, watching the goings on... "And a theif to boot... Looks like he lost a few coin to her jsut now." He smiles, watching her, seeing if she had taken anything from the man when she bumped into him. Either she was a very good theif, or she has actually mistakenly bumped into him. He found the whole irony of situation humourus.

Morphing silently into a Domesticated Dog, he follows them, thunderous storm out-er... noising hs footsteps. He crept along silently in the shadows, listening, ever-listening. A curious soul, he plops down on the ground in search of a good place to eavesdrop. Marcinhg up to a tree, he hides behind it, one floppy ear around the tree, listening. ((Note: I bought PolyMorph, Today. Noone has completed my transaction, yet.))

She watched the dog from the corner of her eye, irritated. There had been no dog around, and whoever it was had been foolish enough to make it painfully obvious that they were not truely a dog. A hand remained on her prize from the village, and though she had stolen nothing from Issac yet, she also didn't intend to. She stopped abrubtly and watched the dog with a sneer upon her face, her eyes cold enough to freeze hell over.

The dog continued staring. Rolling over on his back, he lay belly up and barked at Brenia. Squirming out from under the tree, he walked up beside her and barked again. Rolling on his back again, he kay belly up, waiting for her to scratch him. He reckoned he has about fifteen minutes before polymorph wore off...

Her eyes turned a violent shade of crimson, and she watched the dog calculatingly. "Terrible things come to those with prying ears," she hissed vehemently. She was no fool, careful attention had been paid to her surroundings in the camp, and there was most assuredly no dog. The charm would wear off soon enough, but for now her hand rested on her faithful, lethal looking dagger. She was crazy enough to kill anyone who particularly irked her.

Isaac noticed the dog, and looked at it curiously. He liked dogs but this one was....Different. It seemed a bit smarter, but Isaac was sure it was just...a smart dog.

Either way, he watched the women carefully, still unsure of her motives, and kept his hand near his sword.

"Speak of nothing important," she whispered to Issac, her arms folded over her chest and her stance solid as she continued to glare at the dog. "We have a fool on our hands who is fond of listening to things not intended for their ears," she said, her voice so low and volital it was almost a growl. It would be night time soon, and the cover of darkness would be much appreciated for her.

Jeff, as a dog, whined a litle, begging to e scratched. But realiing thi was comnig to no avail, stand up on his four legs, barks a little, and walks away, he shuffles rather slowly down the road back toward the Bandit Encampment.

Isaac, becoming slightly nervous by the womens seriousness, began to keep a vey close eye on her. He searched for any hostile movements and otherwise stood silently.

Halfway down the road, Polymorph wears off with a pop, there's Jeff, sword atthe ready, muttering. "Augh! WHY do I always have to be so curious?" he flees down the road, very quickly, and vanishes into the bandit's camp.

Isaac looked about with curiousity and wondered.

"So what exactly are you doing in a place like this?" He asked quizicly.

She saw his tension and his hand on his blade, and sighed. "I'm not going to do anything to you, take it easy. I just get agitated when people are so daft with spells like that, to simply listen in on conversations not meant for their ears." She glanced and saw the boy walking down the path towards the encampment, and grumbled.

"Hm, what am I doing here? I had some buisness with a man in the camp. It was no joke when I said they were fools," she chuckled, a hand on the leather purses in her pocked, plump with gold. "I was just passing through, though I'm not sure where I was headed." She sighed again, and raised an eyebrow. "How about you? You don't seem the type to walk about a bandit's camp, you're too intelligent, too alert," she said with a lopsided grin.