To an old friend.

Tybard rushes you through the streets and alleys of Elohim. His grip is strong and you just follow along, with your skimpy cloth flying around your lush hips and your bare feet barely touching the elaborate cobblestones beneath. Soon you are lost, as the alleyways get narrow, twisted and less crowded. You really wonder where your master-by-choice is taking you. Eventually he stops in front of a small, yellowed house, huddled between two larger and way better preserved buildings. He knocks several times. You could swear a certain rhythm contained in the knocks.

Soon after the door opens for a few inches and a veiled face framed by long, silvery hair appears. Golden eyes widen and the door fully opens. Tybard ushers you inside.

"'Lil Tybard. What a pleasant surprise!"

The voice is elven, no doubt, with a natural sing and depth of wisdom. But there is also a croack and you examine the veiled elf. He is old, that is for sure, and his flowing but ragged clothes can't hide a fragile and bent body. He supports himself on a walking stick and his movements are slow for an elf and disturbingly erratic.

"Mellennon..." Tybard proclaims as he closes the door. "Been a long time."

"That it was." The elf nods ever so slightly and lifts a delicate hand. He drops his veil and you can't help gasping. Where once a nose has been remains now just a ruin. Two long scars disfigure a once possibly royal, high-cheeked face. His upper lip is broken and the front teeth are missing. The smile that greets your gasp is tilted to a demon's fleer, but the golden eyes sparkle with shrewd spiritness.

"I see you've brought some company along." His eyes run the length of your body, making you shudder by the expert scrutiny implied.

"I picked her up on the roads. She's of no consequence."

"Mmph." Mellennon grunts lightly and shakes his head in amusement. "She's quite a piece and thus quite of consequence in the City of Theatres, as well you know."

Tybar shrugs. "Seramon and oil of the lupullus turn any country brat into an irresistible slut."

"Possibly. If you say so..."

Now it's Tybard's turn to snort amusedly. "Bah. Who'd know better than you? The one person who taught me all that shit..."

"That's not been me. That's been a long forgotten will-o'-wisp."

"Nah, don't make yourself look worse than you are, old friend. You haven't lost an inch over all those years. You look better than ever."

"Hahah, now that's a good joke. And a cruel one at that too." Mellennon waves his hand in ending this exchange of words. "Let's stop talkiing about me. Rather tell me what's brought you to my small hut?"

"Can I stay in your place for a few days?" Tybard asks flatly.

"Hmm, if lice and rats don't faze you..." Mellennon scratches his chin, first looking at Tybard and then at you. "And her?"

"At least one night."

"I see." The old elf shrugs and tilts his head, nodding further inside. "You've already managed your way here. Might as well stay. You can have the second room to the left upstairs."

"Thank you, old friend."

"You're welcome, Tybard. Feel yourself at home. Just don't make too many noise. Hahahah!" The old elf cackles until an unhealthy cough turns his exhileration to disgust. He turns around and vanishes through a narrow door to the right.

You're left with Tybard in the small, shaded foyer. Apart from the door that the elf used, a second door leads on opposite the entrance. A tilt-angled flight of stairs leads upwards. A carload of questions fills your mind, obscured by arousal and thoughts of sex. You look at Tybard who stands next to you, towering over you like a fierce volcano.

"Move your fine butt upstairs, slut," Tybard commands. His hard voice doesn't leave much room for objections.

Strangely enough, you're more than happy to oblige.