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"Looks like," Sam replied while saddling up. She guided Mort off the path, well behind the tree line. He was still pretty nervous about the dragon; this way, he wouldn't see her and start acting like a big baby again, further delaying everything. She let him choose his pace, which inevitably meant a deliberate, plodding gait and excessively frequent rest stops.

He tagged along with his unwilling companions COMPLETELY oblivious to the fact they wanted nothing to do with them. Even if he knew, he probably wouldn't regard their wishes. Instead, his mood had lightened with the invitation to join them on their quest to this strange place called Libelle. He really didn't travel topside very often and he was eager to see all the cool things and people and most importantly the food. As the ragtag band made their way his head swung side to side looking and listening and gasping and pointing; all of which was more than likely ignored by his fellows.

By the time they had reached the town, or at least gotten much closer, he had a head and neck ache from looking about and he rubbed his strong muscles with a pout. "So why are we going here?"

"Oh great, a traveling circus..." Choshi rolled her eyes in distaste as she thought out loud to herself. Possibly TOO loud. The wide eyes and puzzled expressions of the onlookers hinted that they might have over heard her irritated remark, but the thought never registered in her mind. The thought was intended for her, and as far as she was concerned, no one else heard it.

"What makes you think there is a "WE"?" she added in response to Arlo's question with out looking at him. She had craned her long neck to see where she wanted to settle down in the trading grounds. She would need a fair amount of space after all, she wasn't exactly compact, as some might put it.

After a few moments of internal decision making, she finally decided on a spot and headed towards it without so much as regarding the eager hellspawn. Ignoring the frantic townspeople as they nervously stepped out of her way, she turned and settled down in a clearing next to another trading tent, which she promptly knocked over with her tail. Twisting her head around to see what it was that got in her way, she scowled at the man who emerged from underneath the collapsed fabric of the tent, merchandise in hand.

"Excuse me...do you mind not getting so close? You're kind of invading my personal space..."

When the man didn't answer, she huffed an irritated cloud of smoke and reached around to a pouch attached to her neck. Unfastening the small button with the tip of a claw, she reached in and pulled out a bag no bigger than her fist, and out of THAT came an unusually large sheet of fabric, which she placed in front of her as a matt for her "merchandise". Picking up the bag again she pulled out a curved blade, that again, seemed much to big for it's container and proceeded to cut off a lock of her hair that she had wrapped in blue ties. Placing the lock of hair on the matt before her, she placed the blade back into the unusually tiny bag and sat back on her haunches, waiting patiently.

Oddly enough, dragon hair has been said to be quite valuable as it's hard to come by and contains many magical properties that can be used in spell components and even be woven into clothing to protect it's wearer. Folding back her ears, Choshi at least hoped the people around here KNEW this...or she might be forced to engage them...which required being nice....letting out a sigh she could only hope for the best.

After a big wait sitting on a tree stump, Mr Fynn had decided he could use a more comfortable seat. And probably breakfast too. So he decided to make Mrs Mavis a small visit. She had invited him for tea not too long ago ("you should really pop by sometime. I'll make you a lime tea, my specialty! And I know you love my cookies with raisins! I'll bake you some!").

So he had dropped by. She was a nice old lady, even if a tad boring ("you know Nightchant, the dark elf next door? I heard he has a mistress in town. Oh, these new folks. When I was young, we'd...").

Of course, when he came back, the trading grounds were full of foreigners! Most were humans... a dragon? Oh boy, such a handful.

The dragon was Mr Fynn's first target. He scurried over, looked up at the mighty beast, and bowed. He had no idea how to greet a dragon - he couldn't shake a dragon's hand, after all...

"Welcome to Libelle! I am the mayor of this fair town, Zacharias Fynn!"

Tilting her head down at the unfamiliar, somewhat annoying voice below her, she focused her vision on the man standing before her. What an odd looking thing he was, she thought, not really paying attention to what he was saying. Flicking an ear she brought her head down to his level and looked him in the eyes, her snout practically against his chest.

"You looking to buy? You better have gold on you."

Mr Fynn was caught by surprise. The dragon was looking down at him, and something about that made the poor man feel quite intimidated.

"I, er... I mean... I was just welcoming you to my t-town, as the Ma- erm, excuse me."

Looking around, desperately looking for an excuse to leave the suddenly terrifying Dragon alone (Dragons always look less frightening from a distance, do they not?) made the mayor notice a few other visitors. They were two elves, a satyr of sorts and a humanoid lizard. The mayor cleared his throat, adjusted his hat and held his cane tighter, for some reason. Then he hurried and went to say hello to them.

Hopefully they would be less frightening and weird than the big dragon.

The poor Mayor would be wrong in his hopes. Arlo brightened the moment he was addressed; his ears and tail stood upward as the man approached them. He had introducedd himself as something official sounding, but Arlo was used to being one of the most offical people from his dimension and it didn't seem important to him. He examined the man's hand, which he held out at length until it got awkward... And then the Hellspawn remembered to shake it. He was asked for an introduction and gladly complied.

"My name is Arlo Khorjex..." The man had added his title so he felt obligated to do the same. "Third Regent of Abbadon, Hell; under Lucifer the uh.. the First and Only." He took the man's hand and gripped it firmly. Arlo's hand was hotter than a normal persons and caused sweat to plume on Zacharias' palm. "It is nice to meet you." He said this with a weird pronounciation, as a foreigner trying out a new language.

Oh.

Not a satyr, then.

A regent of Hell.

How delightful, a regent of Hell loose in his town.

The only thing that kept Mr Fynn from fainting on the spot, was that he lived next door to some retired demon lord called Ghadriul. And they were good friends, as far as human/demon lord relationships went. Still, he was standing before a regent of Hell, and those were pretty important, not to mention the tales his neighbor would tell about the 'good old days'.

Hopefully, Mr Khorjex wouldn't be there to spread corruption or death. Zacharias's hand, the one that had shaken Arlo's, returned to the mayor's pocket, as its owner tried to act and speak in a way that wouldn't get him carbonized by the hellspawn.

"Erm... it is a great honor to meet a figure of nobility such as yourself, Mr Khorjex. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Libelle... some of its inhabitants share your birthplace. Like my neighbor Ghadriul. His name might ring a bell and- oh, excuse me."

And quickly, before he accidentally said something that could upset the hellspawn (he greatly valued his life), he turned to the other three.

"Welcome to my town, honorable visitors... I am the Mayor, Zacharias Fynn." He said, weary, but still politely smiling. What next, devourers of worlds? Humanoid time bombs? Creatures able to carve flesh as if it was stone?

He'd seen pretty bad things... the previous year one of the visitors had been one of the examples mentioned above, the last one; he had left after quite a big scandal. But a regent of Hell and a dragon in the same year? That was just too much.

(Tee hee, "carbonized." Awesome.)

Sam dismounted as Fynn greeted the group. Poor guy. Looked like he'd had better days.

She greeted Zack (as she had already decided to think of him) with a smile, which was fairly disarming since she had put enough points in to her Spunk, Pluck, Moxie and Pulchritude attributes to raise them all to above average.

"What's up mayor. Samantha Brooks, but just call me Sam." As she spoke, Mort trotted over and began snuffling around Fynn, quite happy to meet someone who didn't reek of world-ending evil. Nothing like an invasion of personal space to make a good first impression. At least he's not slobbering on him; it would seem that that is an honor reserved for only the closest of pals. Once satisfied that Fynn was a "Nice Man, Who Probably Has Treats", he went and sat next to Sam, again putting her between him and the grumpy dragon and the clearly psychotic demon from Hell.

"Er, sorry about that, he's just really friendly. So, is there a stable in town? Mort here can fend for himself well enough, but I'd feel terrible just leaving him outside at night while I'm sleepin' in a warm bed."

Having a saurus snuffing around him was quite awkward for the Mayor... or it would have been, if he wasn't already in shock from what had happened before, with Arlo and to a lesser extent, the dragon. Actually, having a quote unquote friendly animal invading his personal space helped him snap out of it, so to speak. Why? He had no idea.

"N-nice meeting you, Miss Brooks. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Libelle!"

He reached for his pocket, and from there took a cookie.

For you see, contrary to Mrs Mavis's belief, he was hardly a fan of her cookies with raisins. In fact, he pretty much hated raisins. So he had pretended to eat a few, while instead putting them in his pockets. A grown man doing such things, for shame.

"Does he... like cookies?" He asked with a small smile.

He was a bit scared that Mort would bite his hand off or something. Animals, you never know...

Mort answered that question for her. After a sniff, he engulfed Fynn's hand with his mouth, swallowing the cookie whole. No damage done, though he'll probably want a towel to dry that hand off before he shakes anybody else's hands with it. And probably some soap and water, 'cause, ew.

Sam couldn't help a chuckle. "Yep, he'll eat pretty much anything, as you can see. Also, you're now his best friend forever, so, you know, my condolences."

Mort sat back again, now looking up at Fynn with his big dumb dinosaur eyes, tail wagging happily.

Good treat! Nice man! Thanks! Another? One more? Again? Eat?

Ewww.

"Well, I always loved animals..." said the mayor, trying not to look too disgusted, before excusing himself. Sam and Mort's friendliness had cheered him up a little. Time to say hello to the other two elves.

He held out his hand at them... only to realize they probably wouldn't want to shake it, anyway. So he awkwardly tried to conceal that movement, in a quite silly manner, as he used that hand to adjust his hat, again. Luckily, before he managed to, he remembered he had his hand full of saurus saliva. And he liked his hat saurus saliva-free.

So there he was, his gooey hand inches away from his hat, looking really embarrassed. And so he stood for a few seconds... and then he waved at them.

"...welcome!..."

The hellspawn was fidgeting now, rocking his weight from hoof to hoof. All this greeting nonsense was making him bored. His attention strayed to the people milling about their wares. His icy eyes fell upon a stand full of shiny metal things. He wasn't sure what they were or what their function was but he was suddenly hungry. and Audibly so, as his stomach rumbled loud enough for his companions to hear.

Without warning, his body turned in the direction he was looking and he slowly but delibrately made his way to this tempting stand. Reaching out like a child, he lifted a piece of succulent metalwork and looked it over with intent.

"Greetings, human. I am Al-raii the elf, and this is Lyrra." Great, she barely knew the woman, and now she was introducing her to everyone as if they were the best friends. "I apologize for my... acquaintances' behavior. I swear to you I won't cause any trouble."

The mayor, as expected, was a very nice person. If the rest of the people in that town were half as nice as he was, then the town's reputation - Heaven on Earth! - was by no means exaggerated. Sadly, now they had a demon around. A demon that happened to be a Regent of Hell.

Al-raii knew by experience that demons on the surface meant trouble. Demon Regents? Worse even. As she thought this, she glanced at Arlo... and rolled her eyes. What was he doing now?

"But I'd keep an eye for the hellspawn if I were you..." She told the mayor "For example, right now."

Arlo licks his lips and placed the piece of metal into his maw. His inhuman jaws were able to crush and mangle the material easily and he soon was mucnhing away quite happily. That is until the stand's owner, who has previously been helping other customers, noticed the Hellspawn's actions.

He flew off the handle at Arlo, who had his mouth full and was quite confused as to what he had done wrong..

Sam took one look at the demon munching on metal crafts and bid the mayor good day. He'd have his hands full in a moment. She spurred Mort on, so they could get further in to the town and start searching for a tavern, stable, and/or general store.

The mayor's eyes widened when he saw the interesting chemistry happening between Arlo and the salesperson. He hurried towards them, quite upset; it's a bad idea to be rude towards a regent of Hell!

"Don't worry, my good man, I will pay for the goods Mr. Khorjex just... er... consumed. Send me the bill, please." He didn't even let the salesman reply, nor the hellspawn for that matter. "Please come with me, Mr. Khorjex, I will take you to a tavern. I will show you the best this town has to offer its visitors!"

It's true what they say, one's brain works better when under pressure.

"The Old Flask Tavern is my personal favorite. I-"

"Mister Fynn! Mister Fynn!"

It was Starwhim, the Dorky Elf.

Starwhim had been living in Libelle ever since Fynn had arrived there. He hadn't aged a day (that's elves for you) but he was still as much of a bookworm and socially inept as one could get. He was also the only elf Fynn knew who used glasses. An encyclopedic knowledge of everything strange and unusual (the Mayor loved some tales about unexplained events), together with that awkward behavior that kept unchanging (which was somewhat endearing), had made him and Fynn great friends, especially during the previous year. He was also his assistant. Not that anyone would care about such things during a time like that.

"What is it, Starwhim? I'm busy here." The mayor looked up at Arlo. "Excuse me for a moment." He walked over to the elf, leaving Arlo behind. "What is it?"

"...remember that lizardman that had been missing for some time now?"

Zacharias nodded.

"Yeah, what's-his-name."

"Yeah... We found him. Well, parts of him. His head and... a leg."

Those words hit Zack like if they were an electric shock. "What?!?"

Starwhim nodded.

"By the river banks..."

Oh dear!

"I will go and find the guards... please keep an eye on that satyr-looking person, he says he's a prince of Hell. Take him to a tavern, keep him happy... damn... poor what's-his-name..."

He should have told the elf not to let anyone know about it. Without another word, a very agitated Zacharias Fynn walked away... while a very excited Starwhim ran over to the hellspawn...

"Are you Lucifer?"

The mention of Lucifer made Arlo instantly like this fellow; not that he wouldn't have instantly liked him otherwise. He gave the man, elf, thing a once over and decided he was good people. In fact, he smelled like books and Arlo happened to love that smell because A.) Books were delicious and B.) his best friend and fellow regent ran the Pandemonium Library. The regent grinned, showing many of his pearly white fangs.

"I'm not but I have met him. He's awesome cause he's still all angelic with the wings and the real feet." At this point he was raising his hoof to make the point that he didn't have feet. "And and and he's so cool and collected an powerful. I know his daughter too and all the other Fallen..." And he rambled on for another few minutes to the supposed delight of this scholarly looked fellow. "I like you, you smell like Vinzen, what's your name?"

When Starwhim answered Arlo made a face because the name sounded strange to him. But he recovered swiftly and pulled off the elf's glasses because you know, they were such good friends now that he could do that without repercussions. "Are these special glasses? VInzen has glasses but he doesn't reeeeeally need them cause he can see and all. He uses them to see less." Of course, that was only half the story. Vinzen had cursed his own sight in a botched magical experiment and used the glasses so that he could see like a normal demon instead of seeing in magic terms. Arlo had been unconsciously following where Zacharias went while he babbled away barely letting the elf get a word in edgewise.

"Well, this is my cue to leave. This place isn't going to explore itself" Al-raii said, smiling, to whoever was listening to her. "I'm off"

And without further delay, she made her way to the nearest tavern. She was hungry and thirsty, and her frail elven constitution couldn't stand too long without a good, healthy meal.

Starwhim decided he liked the hellspawn. He was friendly, extremely friendly, and he liked friendly people. So what if he had his glasses? He didn't need them that much.

Well, maybe to read.

And reading was almost all he did.

But who cared? That dude was a Regent of Hell!

Plus, he knew Lucifer, and amongst the loads and loads of nonsense he said (it was nonsense for the poor elf, at least) Starwhim had managed to pick up a few very interesting things. There was also the Vinzen fellow, with some luck he would learn more about him as well. Glasses to see less?

Lost in Arlo's... unique speech, it took him a while to notice where they were going. Which was, exactly were they weren't supposed to.

"Hey, big guy. Hey! HEY! Big guy!" He called, grabbing his arm and hopelessly trying to pull Arlo. "I know, let's go to the tavern! What do you guys eat and drink? Yeah, why don't you tell me about that on the way?"