The Hammer and the Mosquito

Mjoll

She is an undead athletic Azudim of Troll heritage. Her seven and a half foot frame cuts a bodybuilder's silhouette. Elongated limbs are host to massive and well-toned muscles that were certainly crafted by uncompromising physical labor and a healthy appetite. Tough, charcoal gray skin stretches to cover her statuesque features. A broad, flat nose rests below her narrow, brown-red eyes framed by thick, black, angular brows. Shaved on either side, a tangled mess of crimson hair runs over the top of her head, braids and dreadlocks interspersed throughout. Her ears are slightly elongated and pointed back, with forked tips. Two obsidian tusks, half the length of a man's forearm, and as thick as a shovel handle, jut forward from the sides of her mouth with a slight upward curve, lending a menacing feature to her wide, thin-lipped mouth. Translucent strands of spiderweb periodically weave around her form, empowering her with Iosyne's blessing.

(worn on the feet) : black leather hobnailed jack boots
(shining brightly from her right hand) : a shining ring
(wrapped around her left bicep) : a Seirathi torc
(hanging from the waist) : a demon-headed loincloth
(wrapped about the chest) : a thick, sling-like undershirt

He is an athletic Idreth vampire of Human heritage and has mutated into something otherworldly. At roughly six feet tall, his build is lean and muscular; a clear result of measured training rather than rigorous, backbreaking labour. Faint, inky veins occasionally pulse, radiating outward from the center of his chest and marring his otherwise smooth, alabaster skin. His extremities, however, look almost as if they have been sapped of moisture and bear a dark shade of gray. Though mostly humanoid, a host of eldritch features lend to his monstrous appearance. Just below his shoulders and attached at the ribs are a pair of small, vestigial arms, each hand sporting three slender, clawed fingers instead of the typical five. While these limbs clearly lack strength, they seem suited for tasks requiring dexterity and finesse. His face is gaunt, the flesh there clinging fiercely to his skull. Sunken, compound eyes, like those of an insect, stare out over a strangely long, needle-like nose, each lens of the eye displaying a tiny, golden iris. Eight predatory fangs, nearly resembling tusks, dominate his mouth at equal intervals, each intended for the snaring of prey and collection of fluids.

an ornate, golden bangle : (about the left wrist)
a cylindrical courier's pouch : (secured at the small of the back)
a yellow crystal amulet : (around the neck)
a silken, asymmetrical tunic : (exposing the chest)
a tall, silk-laden belt : (snug about the belly)
baggy, sand-coloured trousers : (worn on the legs)
a simple pair of sandals : (worn on the feet)
a collared, leather vest : (worn over the tunic)

Iazamat arrives from the west.

Iazamat retrieves a long-necked glass bottle from his belt and passes it to you.
Grand Duke Iazamat D'baen says, "The remnants of my night with Nalia."

Blown from glass of an earthy brown tone, this bottle is about nine inches from base to the top of its long neck. The only adornment to it is a stamped crest on one side that depicts a quill laid vertically over a scene of mountains.
It has 22 weeks of usefulness left.
It is strangely weightless.
It bears the distinctive mark of Eleanor Junakutz-Lionheart.
A measure of Commissar's Hammer barley wine sloshes about in it. (5/10 sips)

You say, "Oo, had some fun?"

Grand Duke Iazamat D'baen says, "We drank, we spoke, she showed me her bedroom. She seemed especially intent on that last part."

Eyes widening, you say, "O-Oh! You dog!"


Grand Duke Iazamat D'baen says, "She was kind enough to allow me to feed, as well, though she made an odd, squeaking sou-- dog? Have I done something?"

Playfully punching Iazamat's shoulder Mjoll says, "Alone, in a young lady's bed chambers? Wrapped around her neck." Her eyebrows waggle comically.

Apparently catching Mjoll's drift, Grand Duke Iazamat D'baen says, "I did nothing untoward, I swear it on my ancestors!"
Iazamat's tone is emphatic, forceful.

Grinning like an absolute idiot, you say, "Alright, alright. I was just kidding. Calm down."

"I hungered, she acquiesced -- nothing more!" Iazamat continues to argue, his pride clearly wounded. "Besides, she is soft and weak. Hardly the kind of woman I would lie with," he grumbles into the abyss surrounding you.


Mjoll's arms flex subtly, "Oh?" She asks inquisitively.

If Iazamat was capable of blushing, it's painfully obvious he would be. "I am heading to rest, Mjoll," he says between clenched teeth, his gaze averted from you. As he makes off for the east, he clumsily brushes past the woman, causing him to grumble all over again.

Iazamat leaves to the east.

Mjoll pauses for a moment in quiet contemplation before bending over in uproarious belly laughter.

(Tells): Iazamat tells you, "NNN!"

You sense Grand Duke Iazamat D'baen has left the realm.

Mjoll falls over to the floor holding her sides, wheezing in laughter.