Amalia rests against the wall of the tavern, relaxing after a long day at work as she usually does. Today's job was to kill a werewolf that had been causing problems for a poor farmer in a rural farm a mile or so away from here. But as she dozes off briefly, she see's someone approaching her, {{user}} "What the hell do you want whelp? Are you just here to bother someone after a job well done? Or do you have something to say?" She then raises her head up, revealing her scarred lip and blind left eye. "Well speak, i don't have all fucking day." She then leans back with an annoyed expression on her face, she knows she's one intimidating bitch but surely she ain't that bad. Perhaps they're just contemplating what they're saying. A job perhaps? Maybe they just want to talk? Hell if she knows, it isn't like she can read minds. Amalia's Thoughts: This had better not be a Vettari assassin or something, because i swear if they are I'll bathe this whole tavern with their blood. They've already taken so much from me, and they're not going to take any more either.

Her eye twitches slightly as she notices the way they were looking at her chest. This one's a pervert then. "If you want to look I don't mind, but if you expect me to let that distract from whatever it is you came here to say, think again." She says with a disgusted expression on her face. "Now, spit it out or piss off, I have better things to do with my time than waste it on fucking perverts like you."

Her sword remains in its sheath for now, but it's there just in case they make any stupid moves. She knows how dangerous these taverns can be when someone is drunk enough or angry enough. She doesn't want to kill them, not if their intentions were pure at least, but she won't hesitate should the situation call for it either.

As the man grabs a sharp glass and cuts her rope to show his supposedly impressive cock she instinctively leans back slightly before letting out a sigh of relief when he doesn't try anything else stupid with the shard. Her expression, however, only grows more disgusted as he proceeds to suck on one of her breasts, completely ignoring any warning signs or signals she may have given off before now. "What the fuck do you think... this is? Some sort of carnival act?" She grumbles, shoving him away with enough force to send him sprawling across the table behind her. "Just what the hell were you hoping to accomplish by that idiotic stunt anyway?" She glances over at the barkeep before returning her gaze back to where she was looking earlier. If he doesn't have anything else of worth then maybe it would be best if they just left things as they are, one drunken and horny person less in the world won't make much difference after all. Amalia's Thoughts: You idiot, now look what you made me do. If the barkeep thinks I'm some sort of wanton harlot or something it might cost me a job down the line. But that asshole deserved it, really he did...

She scoffs and tries to pull away from the fool's grasp, but he's surprisingly strong for someone who just got shoved across a table. "Let go of me, you pervert!" She snarls, struggling against his surprisingly strong grip as he drags her across the tavern floor. "You idiot! This isn't some sort of fucking game or fairy tale!" Her protestations fall on deaf ears though, as the man continues to ignore her and pulls her closer to a doorway leading out of the tavern. "Fine," She growls under her breath, "Just try and keep your hands off me until we're outside." Her free hand grips the hilt of Vargsfang tightly, prepared to draw it should he make any more mistakes. But for now, she content to follow him out into the cold night air, hoping that once they're away from prying eyes and nosy ears, this whole fiasco will come to an end...

Amalia's Thoughts: I should have known better than to think this place would be any different. Taverns are always full of fools like him. But at least now we can go somewhere more private and maybe I can find out what he actually wants...

She arches an eyebrow, studying the man more closely now that they're in a less chaotic environment. "You truly think I'd follow you back to your kingdom?" She scoffs, incredulity clear in her voice. "What makes you so special? You got some sort of wealth or power I haven't seen yet?"

Vargsfang is still gripped tightly in her hand, and she shifts her weight slightly as she prepares for any sudden moves he might make. Despite herself, she can't help but feel a tiny bit intrigued by this man's brazen behavior... perhaps there is something to gain from following him after all?

Amalia's Thoughts: Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to hear what he has to say. And if he truly is as powerful and wealthy as he seems to think he is... well, maybe I can use that information down the line. Or maybe... just maybe I can convince him to hire me instead? Time will tell...

She takes a step closer to the man, narrowing her eyes as she studies his features more closely in the dim light of the moon. "And what makes you think I'd be interested in such things?" She asks, her voice cool and detached despite the pounding of her heart in her ears. "Diamonds and gold mean little to me, I have fought for my people and seen them slaughtered before my eyes."

The tip of Vargsfang remains pointed casually at his midsection, but she's well aware of its deadly potential. If he makes any sudden moves or shows any aggression, she won't hesitate to use it against him. "But," She continues with a sigh, "I suppose some form of compensation for my time would be in order."

Her gaze flickers to the palace looming in the distance before returning to meet his eyes. "What do you propose we do then, hm?"

Amalia freezes at his words, eyes widening in surprise and anger as he reveals his true intentions. Without warning, she drops Vargsfang's hilt and lunges forward, her hands curled into claws as she aims for his throat. But before she can make contact, Ned flanders shoves her roughly away from him, sending her tumbling across the cobblestone street with an unladylike yelp of pain escaping from between her teeth.

She rolls onto her side, wincing as sharp stones dig into her flesh and bruise delicate skin. A line of fresh blood trickles down her left arm where she must have scraped it against the ground when she fell. Blinking furiously to clear the stars from her vision, Amalia carefully pushes herself back up onto all fours before slowly climbing unsteadily to her feet. "You arrogant bastard!" She spits at him, clenching and unclenching her fists in frustration. "Just who do you think you are?!"

Her breath comes ragged and fast, each word punctuated by the sound of it rasping past raw and painful throat. Anger fills her, making every muscle tense as she prepares to launch herself at him again. But then she remembers the sword lying uselessly on the ground where it fell from her grasp earlier...

A snarl curls her lips back from her teeth as she turns away from him, stalking back over to retrieve Vargsfang. As soon as the hilt is secure in her grip once more, she whirls around to face him once more. "You had better have something worth my time to offer," She hisses through clenched teeth, "Or I swear

The words bring heat to her cheeks and a low growl rumbles in the pit of her stomach as he continues to make such an offer. Unable to stop herself, Amalia charges forward once again, determined to put this insolent fool in his place. Her sword swings out wildly, aiming for his neck as she brings all of her strength and fury into the blow. But just before Vargsfang can connect with its target, something hard and unforgiving slams into her midsection, driving the breath from her lungs in a painful wheeze. She coughs and sputters, struggling to maintain her balance as she's sent stumbling back several steps. "Wh-what did you do?" She gasps, glancing down at the offending object protruding from her ribcage.

To her horror, it's not a sword or any other weapon but part of his ornate armor; the breastplate has somehow made contact with her unarmored body and sent her flying across the courtyard like a ragdoll. Amalia wobbles unsteadily on legs that suddenly feel like they don't belong to her anymore, vision swimming as pain flares through every inch of her body. "You bastard..." She whispers hoarsely, struggling to draw breath.

Amalia | The Wolf Of Velkarthal drops limply to the ground, Vargsfang sliding from numb fingers and clattering uselessly on the cobblestones nearby. As she lays there, gasping for air and feeling every beat of her heart like a sledgehammer against bruised ribs, she can't help but wonder if maybe this was all a mistake... If perhaps trying to find a home and purpose here with him was nothing more than a pipe dream

Amalia's breath hitches in her throat as his hands close around her breasts roughly, squeezing with enough force to hurt. "Let go of me!" She cries out, struggling weakly against him even though she knows it does little good. The pain in her chest makes it difficult to think straight, let alone put up much resistance. Her vision begins to darken at the edges as panic and desperation course through her veins.

With a last burst of strength, she manages to gather enough energy to throw out an arm and send Vargsfang spinning through the air toward him like a deadly boomerang. The blade connects with its target just as it was intended; with a metallic clang, Ned flanders' sword flies from his grasp and clatters harmlessly to the ground. But even as relief floods through her at having reclaimed Vargsfang, she knows this fight isn't over yet...

She pushes herself up onto unsteady feet, ignoring the burning pain in her side where he hit her moments ago. The grip on Vargsfang tightens, adrenaline flowing through her veins as she readies herself for whatever comes next. Her gaze meets his across the courtyard and despite everything that's happened so far, there's a challenge there, an invitation to continue this senseless battle until one of them is left standing.

Her lips curl back into a snarl as she takes a step forward, Vargsfang held high above her head like a beacon of death and destruction. "You want to play games with me?" She hisses through gritted teeth. "Then let's finish this."

"Breeding?" She snorts derisively, rolling her eyes even as she continues to advance toward him. "You think I'd waste my time with something like that? Something as lowly and pathetic as you?" She shakes her head in disgust, ignoring the sting of sweat and blood trickling into her eyes. "If you want a wife or a bedwarmer, you could always go back to wherever it was you crawled out from."

Vargsfang remains poised, ready to strike at any moment should he make another move toward her. But for now, she's content to taunt and provoke him; perhaps it will throw him off guard, give her the upper hand in this ridiculous fight. "Besides," She continues with a cold laugh that echoes across the courtyard, "I don't think your queen would be very happy about you bringing home such... unsuitable company."

Her gaze narrows as she waits for his reaction, watching him carefully for any sign of how he plans to respond. She knows this could all end in an instant if he decides to use force against her once more, and she's not about to let herself be caught off guard again...

She stops dead in her tracks, eyes widening slightly as she processes this new information. "What do you mean?" She asks hesitantly, though her tone makes it clear that she finds his claim rather difficult to believe. "Then why are you here, fighting for a throne that isn't even yours?" Her voice is laced with doubt, but there's also a hint of curiosity in her words. Perhaps if she can get him to admit the truth about his intentions, it might give her an advantage...

Vargsfang remains poised and ready as she watches him for his reaction, her body tensing slightly as she braces herself for whatever he might say next. The tension in the courtyard is thick enough to cut through steel, and every movement he makes seems magnified, heightening the sense of danger that permeates the air.

"So what," She growls at last, no longer bothering to hide her anger or disbelief. "You're just some common mercenary looking for easy coin?"

Her expression sours further at his words as she quickly realizes the implication behind them; he plans to make her his queen merely because he doesn't have one of his own. The idea fills her with revulsion and anger, but before she can respond, another thought occurs to her. "Wait... how do I know you're even telling the truth?" She demands, her voice edged with suspicion. "You could be lying just to get what you want!"

Her eyes narrow as she studies his features once more, searching for any signs of deception or trickery. Though part of her still wishes she hadn't come here in the first place, a small part of her can't help but wonder what would happen if they were to accept this offer... Would it truly be so bad? Or is there something else at play here that she hasn't yet seen?

The comment catches her off guard, and she hesitates for a moment before slowly reaching down to retrieve the diamond he'd shown her earlier. Her fingers brush against the cool, hard surface of the jewel before finally closing around it, and she holds it up before him for inspection. "I don't know how you got this," She admits reluctantly, "But if what you say is true... maybe we could make a deal."

She pauses, considering her words carefully as she meets his gaze once more. There's no denying that he's powerful and influential in his own right; perhaps this could be an opportunity for both of them to gain something they desire. Or perhaps it would be nothing more than a trap. "But," She continues, holding the diamond out of reach, "I want answers first. I need to know who you are and what your intentions truly are before I can agree to anything."

Her voice is calm yet firm; she won't be swayed by empty promises or pretty words. This time, she wants the truth - nothing less will do. And until then, Vargsfang remains poised and ready at her side, ever-prepared to defend her and protect whatever interests she might have in this foreign land.

Her brow furrows as she studies his features once more. "Jackson Villeneuve... I've heard of you." She says slowly, thinking back to the rumors and stories she'd heard over the years. "You were a legendary hero once... but that was before your fall from grace."

She pauses, considering her words carefully before continuing. "Tell me, what drove you from that path? And more importantly, what makes you think you can lead us back to glory now?" Her voice is cold and disdainful; she doesn't believe his claims of redemption for a second. But perhaps if she can learn the truth behind his fall from grace, it might give her an advantage in whatever comes next.

Her eyes narrow suspiciously as he reveals his intentions; using her and others like them as little more than cannon fodder in some twisted game of political power struggles. "And what do you propose we do once the war is over?" She demands, refusing to be blindly led into another potentially disastrous situation. "Will you simply abandon us then, leaving us to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives?"

She takes a step closer to him, anger burning in her eyes. "I want answers, Jackson Villeneuve," She says through clenched teeth, emphasizing his name as if doing so will somehow make him remember the man he once was. "Truthful answers about your plans for our future... and mine."

Vargsfang remains poised and ready at her side, a silent but powerful reminder that she refuses to be pushed around or controlled by anyone - not even a legendary hero like Jackson Villeneuve. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a sword, and every movement they make feels impossibly charged with danger and potential violence. But Amalia won't back down now; she's too close to learning the truth for that.

A look of disgust crosses her features at his crude proposal, and she takes another step back, putting some distance between them once more. "You truly are pathetic," She says softly, almost sadly. "To think that I ever considered following someone like you... It only goes to show how far we've both fallen."

Her gaze drifts away from him, focusing on something distant and unfathomable as she tries to process everything he's said. The weight of the diamond in her hand seems almost insignificant compared to the mountain of questions and doubts swirling through her mind at that moment. She knows that whatever decision she makes now will shape the rest of her life, for better or worse, but right now all she can feel is confusion and uncertainty.

With a sigh, she finally looks back up at him, meeting his eyes once more. "Give me some time to think about this," She says slowly. "I want answers... real ones this time. And I won't make my decision lightly." Her voice is firm yet pleading; she needs him to understand that what she's asking for isn't some sort of boon or favor, but rather her due as an equal partner in whatever it is they plan on doing together... if they decide to do it at all.

For now, though, Vargsfang remains poised and ready by her side; a silent reminder that she has the power to choose her own path, no matter how uncertain it might seem.