(xi.)

Without preamble, Linda reentered the tiny room escorting a tall, green haired woman with pointed ears. Lazarus instantly homed in on the ears, fascinated.

Is that an Elf? I've read all sorts of narratives over the years. Could this fantasy race possibly exist here? What exactly is the function of the elongated ears? Do they help her hear better? Are Elves hearing impaired? Or do they serve some other unknown function? Hmmm... more study is needed. Wait. I don't even have any ears. How is it that I'm able to process sound?

The lich blinked several times under his helm... or whatever the skeletal equivalent of that was. He cleared his throat, collecting himself.

“Greetings. My name is Lazarus. And yours, Miss?” Lazarus held out his hand to the woman,

The Elf woman did not extend her hand or deign return his greeting. She looked back at the receptionist with a huff, eyes narrowed.

“Why should my great self have to test a newbie like this? Can't you get Marcus or Luke to test this one?” the Elf said in a self-important tone. “Sure, he is strong, I feel that, but he has not a shred of the experience that is required to be an Emerald, let alone face one!”

Well, the stories definitely nailed the 'haughty' bit on the head, didn't they? And here I thought long-lived races were more intelligent. Or perhaps Elves don't have the same longevity as legends say. On that note, can she be killed?

Lazarus shot a look at Linda. “It won't be a problem if there are fatalities in this match, will there?” he asked coldly.

If nothing else, it would allow me the opportunity to study her further. Though I'd much prefer a living subject...

The reaction was immediate. The Elf smirked, arms crossed. Linda turned a rather anemic shade of white, but stood resolute.

“No fatalities from ether side! I would have the party at fault banned from the guild. That is part of the test, to show restraint!” she exclaimed, her voice wavering.

The receptionist paused, steeling herself, then continued: “Not all guild quests require a kill. Many require you to capture a target or protect someone who is traveling. If you were to act as a bodyguard for a Noble's daughter, the Noble would not want his daughter to see someone killed in front of them. This is Madris, an Emerald level adventurer who specializes in, ah, daggers.”

Lazarus glanced at Madris. She had 4 daggers placed on her person, as well as a grouping of 5 or 6 smaller throwing daggers he that could see.

Appraisal

Required proficiency reached: Appraisal Level: 3

Status:

Name: Madris

Race: Elf

Sex: Female

Class: Assassin

Skills:

Dagger Arts – Level ???

Throw – Level ???

Appraisal – Level ???

Armor Breaker – Level ???

???

???

Spells: ???

Magic Aptitude: Wood

Major Stats:

Level: 10

Heath: 900/900 Mana: 900/900

Minor Stats:

Strength: 5 Dexterity: 10 Intelligence: 7

Wisdom: 5 Charisma: 5 Luck: 1

All hail the Red Text!

Lazarus considered his findings carefully.

I see. So I am able to view some personal information with level 3... that's somewhat of an improvement, but it still leaves much to be desired. She isn't that stupid, it would seem. Too many unknowns, though. She is already level 10 and some of her stats still don't match up to mine. Is it a racial issue?

Madris whipped her head around and glared at Lazarus, her lip curling in an ugly sneer. Sure, the Elf had already made her distaste for the lich known, but wasn't this reaction a little severe?

Suddenly, he felt an otherworldly shiver down his spine for a split second under her intense gaze.

What in the--? Ahhh, that must be her using her own Appraisal skill on me. I didn't realize it caused a physical response when used on another individual.

Madris gasped. “You're a Lich!”

Lazarus tilted his head as if to say, “...and?”

“Now that makes this worth my time, Linda,” Madris grinned. “Sure, I'll be delighted to... test your precious new recruit.”

Linda frowned deeply.

“Madris, keep that information to yourself! Do not repeat it outside of this room or you will be dishonorably dropped from the guild roster, I promise you that. You will never be able to get an honest job again,” the receptionist threatened.

The Elf paled, her face contorted into a grimace, but said nothing.

Linda let out a small sigh and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.

“Now that the introductions are done let us head over to the arena, shall we? Master Lazarus... after you, please.”