Chapter 1: Echoes of the Dead
After a night of performing, Ahvylyn had been somewhat sated. As Aleesia had seemed up to playing the request, Ahvylyn had happily jumped in as well. The goodwill she had earned that night, as well as the adoration and coin, were well worth it. In fact, it was worth it enough that she had grown interested in the dusk elf and her companions.
Once she had learned of the scholar and what he was doing, that also interested her. Humans who researched history often confused her, personally. Then again, few had her perspective on history. She'd learned so many of the old songs by rummaging through libraries, yes, but she had also learned a great many from the oral traditions or, much more rarely, from elves that were there. Though she kept her heritage to herself, she had experienced much herself.
Still, this expedition intrigued her enough that her being welcomed along had been something worth embracing. Stories seemed to be available to learn and, if she was extremely lucky, they would be attacked by bandits and she might appease her ultimate goal in this area.
Ahvylyn has lazed about in whatever shade she could find. There was not a single scholar uppity enough to command her. She hummed a few tunes and sang a bit through the morning while they dug up pots.
Then, right around lunch, luck smiled upon her. The blue-caped man came out of the woods with a hostage. She noted the brightly-colored man suddenly disappear but only raised an eyebrow at the bandit. Slowly, she rolled and got her feet under her to stand up smoothly. She took a moment to shake her auburn tresses out behind her and then ran her hands carefully along the side of her head to make sure all was in its place. "Honestly, I ought to invest in a mirror. No handy river either. Shame" She then looked over to the men and sighed, "The boy means little to me. Perhaps the old man will pay for him?" She looked to Atrocles with a shrug, "But I've no interest. Keep him. I'm sure buggering him will earn you a few nights' entertainment. He seems awfully soft and... mm, pliable?"
She then smiled and her eyes narrowed considerably, "Anyway, I'll not pay a copper for him. And if you try to insist... I assure you that you will not be the first gelding I've made." Saying this she rested her palm on the hilt of the short-sword strapped across the small of her back.