It Rains Not Cats And Dogs But Pretty Ladies With Destructive Tempers

Another storm, worse than the one before, barreled through Aurora. Its predecessor was enough to make the night ominous and the old folk talk of disastrous and scary nights in years past. This one, however, was all that its predecessor threatened. Violent and forceful, the wind shrieked at speeds never before seen by most of the townfolk, and the rain was thick and fast enough to hurt. The lightning hurled down and the thunder howled, causing more than just little children to fear what the night might bring. The Elves would have perhaps been reminded of a hurricane.

In the middle of it all was a lady, walking down the street while leading a horse loaded with bags and headed directly to the combination tavern and inn. Even in the storm's howling, she heard the church tower bells ring for 2 o'clock in the morning. Eventually, she made it to the crude stable that the inn had and left her horse there before making her way to the door of the inn.

The door to the inn was locked. She pounded fiercely, but there was no answer. Smiling, she merely gripped the handle. Strands of vapor, dark purple in color, come from her palm and slipped through the cracks in the side of the door. The locks satisfyingly clicked.

Serenely, she entered like a ghost, leaving no evidence of her passage by re-locking the door behind her in the same manner. She had not made it even halfway before tripping on the remnants of the room's previously destroyed furniture. The floor greeted her face rapidly, if a bit forcefully.

That was enough to set her off. She calmly got back on her feet before unleashing a kinetic, expanding ball of pulverizing power that sent all the broken furniture bouncing off the walls in a cacophony before reducing them to dust on the floor. That, however, brought with it a new problem. The cacophony was more than sufficient in waking every soul that slept under that roof. Down the stairs rushed the innkeeper brandishing his slightly rusty sword (he was worried that thieves were now robbing him) and the Amaras, who more expertly held his well-tended and finely made sword. Realizing the magnitude of her error, the lady simply closed her eyes, sighed, and calmly asked the innkeeper, "Is there vacancy?"

The innkeeper, too flabbergasted at the sight of a queenly figure standing amidst the piles of dust that before were his broken furniture, stumbled over his own words before finally replying with a timid "Yes, madame!". His awe could perhaps be forgiven, for she was a sight to behold. Her beauty in face was beyond compare of even that of the legendarily beautiful Duchess Oriuta of Grebfell. What little of the lady's dress that could be seen beneath the boring and functional cloak was bold purple adorned with matching gems in expensive quantities.

"Then lead me to the available room. And sent someone to fetch my bags too; I seem to have forgotten to grab them," the lady commanded. At this, the innkeeper was all too happy to do, but the Amaras motioned to the innkeeper to let him run for them. As he slipped out from behind the innkeeper to head towards the stable, the lady noticed him in particular for the first time and immediately noticed his peculiar clothing. She also sensed what others could not: the aura of a power that was invested in the Amaras. She had encountered auras of power before, but for the first time she had encountered a person with an aura from a power that scared her.

The two men put away their swords. The innkeeper led her to what he considered his finest room. She hardly cared to notice the young, curious eyes of the innkeeper's children and niece peering from behind one of the doors they passed. Upon arriving at the room, she pronounced it satisfactory as the innkeeper apologized for the cold room and cold linens. He then left, leaving her in the dark room with the door open.

The lady hung her cloak on the provided coat rack, shut the door, and spread out on the bed without bothering to burrow her way under the sheets. Her emotions and face shifted from stern and commanding to soft and peaceful. The rain continued to pound relentlessly on the window, causing her mind to drift away in thought and sleep. She still remembered the pain, desperation, and anguish that had come into her mind from her--and she could not fail in retrieving--and, and, and.

 A sharp, quick knock on the door broke her stream of thought and brought her back to the here and now. She opened the door to reveal the male figure of the Amaras carrying her bags. For two seconds, he could see the face of an angel, albeit a tired and worried one. It vanished, replaced by that commanding queen persona from earlier. "Your bags, ma'am," he simply said. She snatched them out of his hands and quickly walked them over to the floor next to the bed. Nothing was said in reply; the Amaras decided to simply close the door after her and depart for his own room.


His aura, though pleasant, had become mysteriously downright repulsive to her. She whirled around, hurled the door to her room open, and exclaimed, "Keep your face out of my sight, Amaras!"

The Amaras paused in his slow walk. "Madame, I can assure you: if you do not wish to have my face before you, it will not appear before you." His face and voice was sincere, but there was a slight sardonic twist in his voice.

Her door was slammed shut. The Amaras quietly returned to bed. The hallway was empty and silent, save for the droning of rain and the cracks of thunder. Mercifully, the night saw no more disruptions.