Location: Marrow Lock, Capital of Kadesa...



The sun did its best to provide warmth through the dense clouds covering Marrow Lock, but the remnants of last winter's cold still grasped the capital. This did little to dampen the spirits of all and any who came to celebrate the 150th anniversary of The Arcane Coalition. Such commemoration had never been done before, but King Chogutai of Kadesa insisted. While all were welcome to participate, almost every T.A.C. operative that wasn't on assignment received an invitation. It served as a much needed morale booster, which came at the right time, considering the recent spike of criminal activity happening all over Venastia. The Coalition and King Chogutai's best elitesmen took painstaking steps to ensure the capital's security was grade A for this momentous event.

Almost every city street was a festival. Music of all types bounced off victorian homes and businesses. Artisans ran wild with their brushes, painting side walks and alleyway walls with murals of the Coalition's feats. Merchants preyed on naive tourist with poultices and herbal remedies for impotence and sex drive. Street performers dazzled crowds with flashy magic tricks. Coalition advocators preached to every ear that cared to listen about the sacred bond of science, magic, and nature. Bars and smoke lounges were flowing with brew and candied hasheesh, and bazaars were lively with price hagglers and amateur negotiators. This went on for three days, yet even on the third, its sheen did not luster. Today would mark the end of the celebration, and rumor has it that King Chogutai has planned quite the send off.

Unfortunately, Sir Dmitry Kovalev won't be in attendance for the extravaganza. The grizzly old man watched the festivities through an open window with much envy. He leaned over, lit a cigar he had twirled in his prosthetic hand for quite some time, and casually puffed smoke rings through the open slit.

"I told you to stop doing that in my office." A voice much older than Kovalev's bounced off the lavender walls covered with breathtaking paintings. A bald gentleman with glasses named Jim Wallaceburg closed the double doors behind him and postured over to Dmitry, who still couldn't pry his eyes away from the festive scene outside.

"I suppose this entire charade is fitting." Dmitry said, ignoring the man's concern as he puffed away on his cigar. "It will be a nice send off for the unit. Good R and R before their next assignment."

"Yes, yes," Jim said irritably, fanning the smoke away with a manilla folder. "My operatives have been tailing them since they arrived. After the grand finale, they'll receive further instruction. I trust that you have everything in order?"

Dmitry nodded. "Our Airship is en-route. Cargo is packed, stacked, and ready for loading."

"Well..." Jim inhaled slowly and exhaled just the same as he handed over the manilla folder. "I guess this is it, huh? All these months of planning. Handpicking each operative." Silence stood between them, and Dmitry could feel Wallaceburg's uneasiness about the whole thing. It was seeping through his three piece suit and overpowering the cologne he wore. "Do you think it'll work?"

"What?"

"This team...do you think they'll function as the unit like we hope? A lot is riding on this. I'm not so sure jumping right into an assignment is the prudent thing to do. I mean just the day after the anniversary? Who knows what kind of shape they'll be in the next morn-"

"Jimmy," Dmitry ashed his cigar along the outside ridge of the window pane and stored it in one of the compartments of his metal arm for later. Just then the loud speakers playing overhead on zipping airships made announcements to head toward the King's square, the center of Marrow Lock. "You want my honest answer?" Wallaceburg cringed at the uncertainty of what Dmitry might say. He slowly shook his head.

"No. They won't be everything we hoped for." He tipped his duster and trudged toward the exit. "They'll be better than we anticipated."

As Dmitry left the office he shook his head, then decided on finishing the rest of his cigar. He lit it once again with a dry match and sighed.

"Shit, they better, Jimmy ol' boy..."

“Ahh, this weather is perfect. No blinding sunlight, yet light enough to see all the colours. A fine day for an anniversary.” Finn whispered to himself, as he looked up into the sky. He was standing at a corner of a street, His long black cape covering him, and the hood hiding his face.
After some moments, a bulge on his back, under the coat, moved from his back up to his head. Over it hang his backpack which slightly hid the moving bulge. Finn could feel two small tentacles graze his left check as Reva looked around from over his shoulder. “Ah yes this is your first time here in this city, correct? It’s a marvellous city indeed. Sadly you can’t roam around freely like at home. If these people see you, they might get scared. So stay under the cape and don’t move too much.” Finn whispered to his friend and began walking again. At the square He stopped , slowly turning around so his friend could view the city.
“I’M hungry boy, let’s get something to eat. I know a good tavern here, and the owner still owns me for the last time, when I kicked out some troublemaking drunk.” Looking around Finn realised he didn’t know the way. It’s been a long time since he had last visited this city and it was quite less populated. Closing his eyes, he took three deep breathes. The city aroma filled his nostrils. He did this again three times, each time turning for a step. After the third time, a smile drew ion his face. “ Come my friend, I know the way.” Saying that with a cheer, Finn rushed forward. People around him though he was strange, but after they heard him talk to himself They though him mad. Reva kept making sounds as they walked the streets. He was amused and baffled by the city. And the city was freaked out by the constant noise coming from a dark hooded figure.

"Man, everyone else is enjoying the festival, and we have to submit our reports. This isn't right, not at all..."

"I wish they'd just lock up old fur ball over there, I don't even thin-"

Out of nowhere, the two students who were previously complaining were hit with expertly thrown chalk sticks, one after the other, a skill Quallyss the Mad had honed to perfection in his many years as an Engineering Guild professor. He humphed, and jumped up on their table, frowning disapprovingly. His tail swished angrily, and he purred softly, unimpressed by his student's lack of disrespect. Always treat your elders with respect, even if you have none for them. That has always been Quallyss' motto, and he once made a class write it out a thousand times, when one person failed to show respect by not submitting his end of year project. He would have no disobedience in his class, absolutely none. He cleared his throat, and all the students groaned. They knew what was coming, when he cleared his throat.

"Our profession, " he began "Is a very demanding one. Science, is difficult, and demands respect. Magic, is difficult, and demands respect. Both together is nigh impossible, and demands the utmost, respect. Yes, yes, quite..." Quallyss began to pass the forward row of tables on all fours, continuing with his familiar speech. "When you fail to respect, this profession, you are prone to make mistakes. Mistakes in science, results in failure. Mistakes in magic, results in failure. Mistakes in Mechanical Imbuement... Results in monsters."

Quallyss jumped down from the tables, and stood beside his creation, Tick Tock, who stood to attention. Tick Tock was very familiar with this demonstration. Quallyss waved a hand, and continued. "Imagine, if you will, that I made a mistake with Tick Tock's design. Let's say, I failed to align his Alchemical Matrices properly, a simple missed incantation. An eensie, weensie mistake." He paused for dramatic effect. "Imagine how easily this 400 pound automaton could snap my back. Or rip my head off. If I made a mistake, that could be the very situation. That is why I teach you. So you don't make these mistakes. So you don't make monsters,"

He paused, and saw the fear in his student's eyes, for they knew what was coming next. "That is why you will all write a 500 word essay on why monsters are bad. Due on my desk by tomorrow morning. Please enjoy the last night of the festival, and I will see you all tomorrow at 9 o'clock. On the dot. Dismissed." He gathered his notes and walked out with Tick Tock in tow, smiling to himself as he heard his students groan and complain in synch.

Quallyss chuckled lightly to himself, crossed his arms behind his back and talked aloud to himself. "Ho ho, I love my job." Tick Tock nodded in silent agreement, and they both entered the busy street, exiting the Guild. He lit his pipe of 'mysterious' herbs, and puffed lightly, enjoying the cool air of the streets.

People hurried to move out of the way for the mechanical horse that hissed steam from it's pistons with every step. Large furrows in the crowd seemed to appear everywhere as people were awed by the steed's fine make. Catonia riding atop Apollo didn't help matters. She looked very much the noble woman with her hair pulled back tightly into a thick braid that draped over her right shoulder. Catonia had decided to wear a pair of red tights, with a red high collared shirt, a blue vest, and blue officer's coat, with thigh high black leather boots. On her left hip bolstered to a thin black leather belt was her pistol that was obviously of master design. Today though she was not on duty and was enjoying the sights of the festival while having to deflect offers to sell magical herbs. One man was very bold in his offering.

The man was a older one with a thick gray beard and holding up a jar of pink paste. "My lady if you give me, but a moment of your time I have a cream that will increase the size of your chest by two times!" The man was practically beaming expecting a easy sell to a woman of wealth.

This made Catonia frown and look down at her own chest before replying. "Is my chest not big enough for you? Next you will tell me I am ugly and need to reshape my face!" A smirk tugged at her lips though she did her best to keep it hidden. The man's cheeks turned a bright red and he skittered off into the crowd ashamed of his actions.

The streets were dense with people and noise, it was almost disorienting. Morticia wore clothes that covered most of her body, all the way up to her neck. Her skin didn't always agree with the sunlight, so her puppet Bonnie carried an umbrella over her head. Bonnie appeared simple enough being made of straw bound with cloth, but the magic that went into making it was far from simple. Morticia usually wasn't a fan of events like these, but she hasn't been making any progress in her research and decided a little break was in order. And with all these people maybe someone would kick the bucket. Mortia could really use some life force from a fresh corpse.

As they walked, Morticia with her little steps and Bonnie with its slight limp, vendors everywhere were trying to out sell and out shout each other. All kinds of strange and useless things were being sold. Only fools would fall for those scams. But one item stood out amongst the rest: a cream that could double bust size! "You guarantee that it works?" she asked the vendor.

"Of course, just ask my wife!" he laughed. Just then noble woman with a steel steed refused the exact same item.

"Umm, on second thought, I'll pass" Morticia said, slightly embarrassed she almost bought into the scam.

The sound of raucous festivities reached Chang's ears through the window just above him. While others were outside enjoying what the streets of Marrow Lock had to offer in this jubilant time, Chang was treating those who had had too much to drink, and in one case, eat. He glanced away from the window and back at his softly glowing, inebriated patient. Forming a glyph out of magical energy, he snapped his fingers and glyph shattered, causing the glow to dissipate intoxicated form lying on the bed to snap upright, awake, and fully sober. The man glanced around fearfully. Chang sighed, his tail flicking about unconsciously.

"You're in the infirmary and you were drunk. You can go now" Chang recited almost mechanically, eyes directed away from his patient. The man nodded nervously, and walked out shakily, dropping a coin at the front desk. With nobody else to treat, the hooded Cathian inched closer to the window, listening on what was happening outside, trying to make out what he was missing in the festival. The familiar cries of the hawkers and merchants rang out among the streets as usual. He paid no attention to any of them, and tried to focus on other conversation, but it was all mindless banter. He checked his watch, growing impatient despite his normally good nature. He just wished his shift would end already, so he could go out and have fun, not sit in some stuffy hospital full of drunkards. He leaned back in his chair, and started to fall asleep, purring softly.

The mechanical clanking of a mechanical horse woke Chang out of sleep about a minute later. He jerked up, glancing around, ears flitting about. The noise stopped, and now that the noise of the crowds outside had died down, he could make out what was being said, but not much. Something about... bust cream and ask my wife? Even Chang's feline ears couldn't pick up much. Another drunkard stumbled in again, brought in by the guard to be sobered up. It seemed to Chang that the duty to treat this poor man was going to be up to him.

Connor was absolutely loving the festive atmosphere of the Capitol. All of the energy, the exuberance, it was filling him with glee. He danced through the crowds, and stopped to preform a small impromptu show of magic mainly composing of juggling balls of ethereal fire, then as people began to stop and watch he started to dance while juggling and then finally when he had a small audience he then threw himself forward so that he was standing on his hands and juggling the fire with his feet he smiled and began singing a folk song bobbing his head back and forth between his shoulders to the tune. Some people shouted either with concern or fear Connor couldn't tell as he pitched himself forward onto his hands, but that didn't really matter to him, what mattered was the applause and the cheers of those that stopped to watch. He liked making people happy, it was a joy in his life, getting people to smile was truly a blessing.

It was those thoughts that made him lose his concentration on the juggling, so it really wasn't his fault, but the people being happy that caused on of the fireballs to careen off into the distance. WIth a shrug he hopped back onto his feet then fell firmly into a sitting position as he watched the terrified shop owner, a man who appeared to be peddling some kind of breast cream, jump and shriek with fear, falling on his rear as the intangible flames splashed around him. The gathered crowd let out a sigh of relief only after realizing the man was entirely unharmed from the incident, except perhaps a bruised bottom from falling, and then erupted into more applause and laughter then before. Connor stood in a grandiose sweeping motion and with much flamboyant posturing gave an elegant if slightly foolish bow.

Chi fluttered from the overhang he had sat on while Connor preformed as he began to move again, now with a destination in mind. His stomach was rumbling and he wanted food. On his way towards where he thought there might be some vendors selling delectable treats Connor spotted some type of mechanical horse, gears clinking and clanking, with puffs of steam coming out and chuckled with glee at the marvels of the city. He also noted a woman with some type of doll carrying an umbrella for her, but before he thought to say anything Chi fluttered towards a stand where the merchant was selling kabobs with brisket on it, and brisket was one of Connors favorites. Connor paid the man for two kabobs and was off on his merry way.

Allan strode through the festival, enjoying the wide berth people gave him due to the 10-foot-tall bear trailing just behind him. He spent awhile taking it all in, enjoying the sights, the sounds, the smells, the sensations of being in the city on a celebration day. Absently humming a popular ballad surprisingly tunefully, he beamed at everyone who caught his eye, wishing them a happy Coalition Day. He stopped at an open-air tavern and bought a round for everyone at the bar, toasting to the Coalition and its noble mission. When he finished his drink, he realized his bear was no longer near him. Frowning, he tossed a few coins on the bar for the barmaid and dismounted the bar stool to search for his friend. After a minute or so, he found the bear with his snout to the ground near a merchant stall.

"Lysander, no! Leave that alone!" Internal gears and machinery whirring and hissing, Allan snatched up a tube of some sort of cream that had opened after hitting the ground, which Lysander had been lapping at. It read "Bust Enhancement Cream". He continued to reprimand his bear, ignoring the stares and comments of onlookers. "You don't know what that will do to you. How many times to I have to tell you to keep your snout out of strange balms and elixirs?" Lysander snuffled at Allan, fixing him with a doleful gaze before licking him with his enormous tongue, smearing some unswallowed cream on Allan's face. He surreptitiously wiped it off, and scratched the bear behind his ears. "Be more careful next time, OK?" The bear rumbled at him sheepishly, and a hapless grin broke Allan's features. "You really are something else, buddy." Allan led the bear away from the stall and tossed two tubes' worth of coins to the terrified merchant, apologizing as he went. "It won't happen again, I promise." Under his breath, he muttered, "going to have to get a leash for that bear one of these days." Out loud, however, he said, "Why don't we find something to eat that's not kept in a tube?" Lysander whoofed in assent, and Allan found himself at a stand selling kabobs, ordering two for himself and six more for Lysander.

Wulgoth's calloused hands gripped the mounted shooter as he focused in through the reticle. It had taken the Org-Humas a full day to get adjusted to the constant movement of the small, three-manned airship, but he was beginning to get the hang of shooting. He was in tunnel vision now, eyes focused only through the small metal ring, awaiting for his targets to appear. Then his prey finally came into view, and without a moment to readjust his aim, or calculate wind resistance, he pulled the trigger hard with grim satisfaction.

Confetti streamers and sparklers spiraled out through the thick muzzle, showering a group of children that were playing on a rooftop below. Wulgoth laughed menacingly as they screamed for cover, dodging the party paraphernalia that rained down on them like hellfire. "Celebrate this!" He laughed.

"Damn it, Wulgoth!" The second crewman yelled into his ear but the Org-Humas didn't stop firing. "Stop! We need to save the rest for the finale!"

Wulgoth eventually released the triggers. "You're right..." He said, turning to the Ranath. His golden-hazel eyes burned into his with a sudden revelation. "There will be more people gathered at the King's Square. More people for me to shoot." The fangs at the ends of his mouth protruded as he smiled.

"No... for the last time, Wulgoth,, we do not shoot the confetti at people. We're supposed to aim up and away from crowds." The Ranath said as slowly as he could, hoping Wulgoth will get the message the seventh time. The Org-Humas simply nodded. "k..."

The Ranath rolled his eyes and stomped away from the small bridge, and within ten paces was near the pilot. "I can't bloody wait until this damn celebration is over. Why did they assign him to this detail anyway?"

The humas pilot chuckled. "Same reason we all got assigned to this shit detail; he got himself in trouble."

"Don't worry..." Wulgoth yelled back at them. The Ranath cringed at the realization that the Org-Humas heard everything he had said. "Looks like the finale is underway."

The pilot traced Wulgoth's finger to another Airship flying parallel to them. The crewmen dropped an orange colored banner, signaling them to approach the King's Square for the finale. The pilot redirected his course. "ETA is two minutes. Wulgoth, refill the shooting tubes with everything we have left and Kizan drop the orange banner to cue the rest of the fleet." The pilot ordered, flipping on a switch beside the navigation wheel. The giant speakers fastened along the hull of the ship crackled to life, and the sound of an eloquent, middle-aged man rang out into the denizens below:

"Fellow Venastians! Please make way to the King's Square. Once again, please make way to the King's Square. If you are lost, please ask the nearest T.A.C. officer and they will happily escort you to the proper location." After priming the tube shooters, Wulgoth leaned over the rail and watched the herds of people shuffling toward the King's Square like ants. "Finally...." Wulgoth whispered to himself. Three days on this assignment was more than enough punishment for punching his superior officer. It was a given that he was going to get reassigned for his erratic behavior. He only hoped that whatever it was, wasn't going to be anything like this.

----



Within an hour the entire open courtyard of King's Square was crammed with people; a sea of faces, stretching out to as far as the eye could see. Airships had congregated around the perimeter behind the towering statues of Kadesan kings, whose crowned heads peaked just over the guarded fortress walls of Marrow Lock. The airships' speakers no longer had their announcements blaring. Instead, the soothing sounds of an orchestra amplified through their speakers. Then the crowd erupted in cheer, and the orchestra switched to a celebratory entrance hummed by trumpets and drums. King Chogutai appeared in front of the platform, his golden crown sparkling like a radiant star as he faced hundreds with a confident stride. The crowd's cheer erupted once more as The Eight Sages of The Arcane Coalition filed in after King Chogutai, and lined up around him. Composed of all races and all territories, they each had individual characteristics that made them stick out from one another. They bowed graciously to King Chogutai, whose generosity for the Coalition seemed to know no bounds.

In between the war murals shone against the walls behind him, along with The Eight Sages at his side, the great Kadesan King emanated power that demanded respect. The Humas King had not ruled during a war period, but his long beard and hair casted a grizzly warrior that seemed out of place in the bright royal garments he wore for this occasion. The music died off, cueing everyone in attendance to be still, and King Chogutai awaited patiently until the square went silent.

"Fellow Venestians!" His powerful voice echoed from the airship speakers, traveling throughout the entirety of Marrow Lock. "For three days we have celebrated. For three days we have raised our goblets and danced with glee. I have opened the heart of my kingdom to you with welcome arms; to join me on this momentous occasion, where, 150 years ago, brave men came together and sought progress. To the Arcane Coalition!" The king shook his fist in the air, igniting a roaring cheer that thundered throughout Marrow Lock. He turned to The Eight and bowed, whom in returned, bowed even lower. "Know that these honorable sages have guided us into an age of progression! Know that they have done impossible things for Venastia! Like unite Imygden and Kadesa -- as one!!!" The Eight bowed off to the sides, allowing King Malor Von Imygdal to enter the scene from the background. The sound of thousands breaking out in chants that glorified the two kings was enough to send goose bumps through the thick skin of a full blooded Org. King Malor Von Imygdal looked like King Chogutai's more clean shaven equal, with the exception of his pointy Ranath ears. He gave off an air of royalty that Chogutai did not have, yet one's prowess did not overpower the other.

"Know this!" The Imygden King said with a powerful growl. "Our kingdoms will continue to stand by the Coalition, for we are freethinking rulers! Your pursuits in Science and Magic will never be shackled behind old laws and religion! Such a privilege can only be granted freely in our realm!"

"So enjoy this day," King Chogutai spoke. "and live out your lives with ambition!"

The Eight Sages raised their hands high and released bright colored energies out into the air. They spiraled together, vanishing for a moment into the clouds. Then, a giant phoenix revealed itself, covering the entirety of Marrow Lock's skies. It stretched its wings back then flapped, shooting out streams of energy that took on the shape of smaller birds. One by one, they ignited the skies into misty hazes of fireworks. Airships played celebratory music that sprung the crowds into dance as confetti streamers rained down on them.

---

Marrow Lock Airship Docking Bay

Sir Dimitry Kovalev glanced at the giant time piece on his palm. By now, Jim Wallaceburg's men are delivering a letter to nine T.A.C. operatives. The letter will boast of their accomplishments and congratulate them for their successful careers. It would then give them directions to Kovalev's location on Marrow Lock's Airship Bay, where they would take on their first assignment as an Intercepter. He leaned against one of the stacked cargo supplies on the raised dock platform, occasionally looking over his shoulder in hopes to find their airship finally approaching for dock.

"Damn Airship should have already been here 10 minutes ago." Dmitry did not factor in the amount of airway traffic there would be for the celebration. Jim Wallaceburg gave Kovalev the impression that their privately reserved lot had a designated airway that could bypass the main routes.

Suddenly, a suspicious group of men had caught his eye. Ten men, four Orgs and several Ranaths in their ranks, poured in through an alleyway entrance of the docking bay and they all stared unflinchingly at the stacks of cargo supplies that surrounded Dmitry.

"You must be Sir Dmitry Kovalev, yeah?" One of them yelled out, obviously the leader of the pack. They approached the dock slowly. Dmitry could see their hands wrapped around objects, but the cloaks they wore made it hard to see what kind of weapons they had.

"And how would you know that?" He asked, gripping the handle of his pistol strapped to his hip.

"You should be more careful where you buy your supplies." The leader snarled. "Not all of us love the Coalition. Especially those associated with the thieves guild."

Dmitry clenched his teeth and cursed at Jim Wallaceburg for his incompetence. Kovalev knew from the get-go that getting their supplies from an outside company was a bad idea, but Jim swore by their authenticity -- mainly for their cheap prices. These armed thieves were likely hired by a worker, probably the owner himself, to retrieve the purchased inventory.

"Let's take back what's ours gents!" The leader rallied his cronies, and swords and pistols appeared from their cloaks.

"Well, this isn't good..." Dmitry sighed, whipping out his pistol and hip fired a round into the assaulting crowd. "Nope. Not good at all."

It was as Connor was finishing what he had found to be a truly delicious kabob (of which he had only eaten the meat, avoiding at all costs the detestable vegetables that people were obsessed with forcing upon both themselves and others) that he had observed, with minor amusement, the 'magic' the sages preformed. It was droll and uninteresting, really a boring stunt, more to stun the masses who had no idea or concept of how optical magic worked, it was clear and apparent that while yes there was a certain amount of energy used by the sages it wasn't nearly as magnificent as it appeared to an untrained observer. Connor noted that while the Phoenix appeared to be massive it was really only a thin layer meant to be visually impairing so as to avoid any close observation, he also noted that while all eight sages on stage appeared to pour energy into it, the construct really only took a minor amount of the magic any of the individual sages should have been able to produce at any given moment. All in all, while the spectacle seemed to have enthralled the masses Connor was wholly unamused with the waste of time that the spectacle truly was.

Connor's scathing internal monologue based around a critique of how disappointed he was with the sages show was interrupted, as Chi, who's stomach apparently did not agree with the kabob he had just eaten, tooted, launching him forward slightly and sending a puff of flames into the crowd behind him.

It was for that reason that Connor was in a fit of giggling when the courier approached, apprehensibly asking "Are you the T.A.C. Officer, Connor De'Finn?"

Connor spun doing a large mock bow so deep that the nose of his mask touched the floor, "That I am, and why might I ask, do you ask?"

"I have a letter here for you sir." The courier thrusted the envelope at Connor, who took it with curiosity.

Connor waved as the courier walked away, then tore into the envelope, inside was a letter that appeared to be from on-high in the T.A.C. Command and as such was extremely important, so of course instead of doing any diligent reading he promptly began skimming through, Dear Connor, yada yada yada, excelled at the academy, blah blah blah, thanks to your skills at, blegh blegh blegh, due to the above statements you have been assigned to the Interceptor Squad, please report to the Private Marrow Lock Airship hangar bay listed, to meet with your squad leader Kovalev and prepare for your initial mission.

Connor sighed, it looked like his fun time in the city was going to be over and done with. He began walking towards the direction where he thought the hangar bay was.

Finn exited the tavern. His belly full, and Reva resting on his back content with the day. The crowd began moving towards the main event of the ceremony. "Guess it's time..." Finn said and s small hiss came from his back. "But it's too crowded for us, I dislike crowds except if it's used as a cover. But this time I'd prefer a full view. " an annoying tone could be g heared in his words. Looking around Finn tried to find a way on to the roof tops, without making him visible. He found it. For a moment he walked with the crowd then turned into a narrow dead alley. Stepping onto the wall he jumped, grabbing a hold on the window porch he lifted himself up. Using only his hands he slowly climbed to the roof. As he grabbed the edge he lifted himself up. The first thing he saw was Reva standing infront of him. "Hahaha, stop mocking me." He aid as he stood up. " though you can walk freely don't stay too far. We aren't the only ones here" he pointed to the figures on the roofs moving towards the main event.

Sitting at the edge of the roof, Reva beside him. In total silence they watched the main event. Finn never moved a muscle, Reva occasionally moved to look around, but otherwise they say still.
'Seems quite the magic work'; Finn thought to himself. 'Though I know how you operate, and that magic was only some simple weak illusion.' Like his usual self, he observed everything in his mind everything was questionable. The debate in his head made him less concentrated for the magic tricks.
From far he noticed one of the sages looked familiar. If took him some time when finally; 'Oh so you're still alive are you. I told them it's useless.' It was one of the targets he declined long ago. Then as now Finn knew there was no chance for anyone to kill the sage. Maybe if the best assassins and bounty hunter's joined, with the mind only on the job, no greed for money within them, then he could be killed, but not by a single average Aassassin.

Steps could be heard behind him. In an instant Finn concentrated on the person behind him. The scent was of a T.A.C. officer. He was calm and relaxed, meaning he wasn't dangerous. His breathing was even and each step was firm. He was on a simple mission and it involved Finn. 'Ipy yay yo, we got a new mission, I wonder what it is.' He thought. He raised his hand behind his head, his palm opened. "Greetings. What's the occasion. " instead of a hand a letter was put in his hand. Finn was surprised Penegoes the letter he read;

" This message is for; Finn Margrier Sumatorist Grdosina
You are too report by the the Private Marrow Lock Airship hangar bay, at all do haste. Receive further orders at the designated location.
Order issued by;
Sir Dimitry Kovalev"
With a sign at the bottom.

Finn liked how his superiors honoured his wish of how the orders were to be written. Short, accurate and with no unnecessary formalities. And it seemed that the superiors preferred it as well. He was used to this type of orders/messages from his days as a bounty hunter. Grunting, he stood up. Pointing his right leg to Reva, the big bug climbed it and moved to its previous position on the man's back. Finn turned facing the airships hangars. "Lets get this done." Finn petted Reva and ran towards the hangars.

Allan and Lysander munched on their snack, enjoying the succulent meat and grilled vegetables on the kabobs as the finale started, gazing up into the sky with wonder. The big armored man and his bear looked for all the world like a child and his pet dog. Allan had been working with the Coalition long enough to know that such a display was just for show and there wasn't much actual magic involved, but he wouldn't let that spoil his enjoyment of the moment. He gave himself over fully to the spectacle, oooing and ahhhing with the rest of the crowd, and joining their cheers, even dancing briefly with a twirling girl, laughing with delight and exulting in celebration. His mechanical joints weren't suited to graceful, flowing movements, however, and after a few steps, he let her pass, since she seemed to be dancing through the crowd, rather than seeking out one partner. He nodded to her graciously, and she blew him a kiss, giggling. So many others were dancing that even her violent yellow dress was lost in the sea of color before long, and still grinning, Allan let the crowd begin to wash him away. There were a few people moving determinedly in the opposite direction of the crowd's flow, however, and one of them found Allan, straightening his disheveled TAC uniform before asking a question.

"What?" Allan called over the din of celebration.

"I said, are you Allan Phaedrus?" The courier had to shout over the white noise of the crowd.

"I am. What tidings does the Coalition send?" Lysander had noticed the exchange, and moved to stand next to Allan, the massive bear parting the crowd enough to give Allan and the courier a bubble.

"This is for you. May the Coalition stand strong!" After producing a letter and proffering it to Allan, the courier was swept away by the crowd before Allan had a chance to reply.

To Lysander, he said, "Let's hope this is good news." He broke the seal and unfolded the letter, reading to himself carefully. It opened with a description of Allan's achievements, and then declared a new mission and ordered him to report to the Marrow Lock Airship hangar at his earliest convenience. Good news indeed. He was enjoying the celebration, but in truth, he really wanted to be out in the field again, doing good for the people the Coalition protected and served. And, in deeper truth, wanted to be out seeing the world and exploring new places. With determination in his eyes and a sense of purpose in his step, he whistled to Lysander and made his way through the crowd towards the hangars.

Later that day, the cries of drunkards kept Quallyss from his work, and he would periodically yell out the window at them, asking them to keep it down (athough a lot more 'colorful' language was used). He was not in a good mood. He had been showing off Tick Tock to his peers, when it suddenly was over at a florist's store, buying a large wedding bouquet. After five minutes of frustrated negotiation with the seller, Quallyss was unable to convince her to take them back, and so was required to pay 20 gold pieces for them. While Tick Tock had looked very pleased with itself, Quallyss was less than amused, and had frowned all the way back to his manor.

It was while Quallyss was marking assignments, when he heard the knock upon his door. Quallyss was now very mad at the constant interruptions to his afternoon, as well as frustrated at his lazy students who, in all respects, actually worked really hard. Quallyss simply hated students. He stomped over to the door, and swung it open, startling the courier.

"Yes, yes, what is it now!?"
The T.A.C. operative was now nervous, as she had no idea what she'd done to anger the Cathian before her. She looked down, and moved from foot to foot uneasily. Uh... you, um, have a letter. From T.A.C." Quallyss humphed, and snatched the letter out of her hand, and began to walk inside. The operative was curious, and spoke up again. "Uh, don't you have any questio-"
Quallyss was now at his wit's end. "Fine, dammit... Here. NOW GET OUT!" He had mistaken the lady for a regular courier (he had barely listened to what she had to say) and threw two silver pieces at her. She put her hands up to protect herself from the flying currency, and had the door slammed in her face. Quallyss sat down again, just as Tick Tock arrived, carrying a tea tray with crumpets and wearing a floral apron. Quallyss took a crumpet and his tea, took a bite and a sip, and read the letter.

He finished it, and a smile crossed his face, before he let out a loud chortle and broke into gleeful rejoice. Tick Tock was startled by this, as it was running it's metallic fingers through the flowers of the bouquet admiring it some more, and nearly dropped the tray. It looked at it's master quizzically, head cocked to one side.

"Ah, Tick Tock, this is exactly what I need! A holiday! Quickly, run a message to the Guild and tell them I'll be away on business. Then pack my things, we're going on an adventure, HO HO!"

The last of his patients quietly walked out as Chang stood up and stretched, tail arching slightly as if joining in with him. He sauntered over to the front desk and smiled wearily at the clerk as she deposited a small bag of silver coins into his palm. The main event in the festival was beginning soon, signaled by the booming voice emanating from the skies. He pocketed the coin and made his way out of the building, taking his simple wooden cane with him. He never used the cane much, just as a amplifier for his healing powers. Or so he said. The crowd began to thicken quickly as Chang came closer to the main square of Marrow Lock. He could see, and even hear slightly, the airships hovering overhead, surely armed with confetti and other little ribbons of paper that Chang always felt the need to swat at. He put his hands in the pockets of his hooded robe and kept them there for the rest of the ceremony. Minutes later, after the King's speech, confetti and other decorative baubles floated down from the sky, fired by the men on the airships. Despite the precautions he took, Chang could not resist jumping up and batting at the ribbons, as if he were but a kitten again.

---

The ceremony did much good to help brighten Chang's mood. The cheerfulness and exuberance of the crowd was contagious, infecting him with its jubilant qualities. He was walking the streets to his apartment when he heard a gruff-sounding voice behind him.

"Excuse me, sir, are you Chang Ea Nimh?" Chang turned on his heel, hearing his name, and looked up at the towering man over him, who had been saluting. He was dressed in a standard T.A.C. uniform, complete with feathered hat and monocle.

"That would be me, yes. How may I help?" Chang said, returning the standard salute out of respect.

"I have a message for you," the man said, holding a letter down to Chang, who reached up to grab it. "I am told it must be opened immediately." The man gave a brief salute, and walked away briskly, leaving Chang slightly puzzled. He looked down at the letter, turning it around in various directions before opening it. He read the letter carefully, and once finished, he folded it up neatly and put it in his robe pocket.

"I suppose this requires a few more things," Chang mused to himself, and took out a small curved whistle from his pocket, and blew on it, creating a shrill noise that cause many people to turn in his direction. He silently pocketed the whistle, looking up at the sky. After about a minute, he could hear a whirring from the top of the nearest building. A metallic sphere covered in archaic designs floated down from a rooftop, coming down to hover just behind Chang, he pressed a few buttons on the outside, and the sphere whooshed open. Quickly glancing over the objects inside, Chang nodded resolutely, and shut the hovering sphere's lid, and began his journey to the Airship Docks.

As the celebration heightened the sky became a canvas painted by the glowing color of magics and illusions. Morticia watched with widened eyes, thoroughly impressed by the spectacle. Her magic was not nearly as spectacular or fun, such is the nature of the dark arts. Dancers, acrobats, and performers of every sort skipped and pranced through the crowds infecting everyone with their cheerfulness. Even Morticia found herself moving her feet to the beat of the bards. But a tug on her sleeve from Bonnie warned her about the nearing messenger. He looked official, so Morticia assumed the news was unsavory. She wiggled her way through the crowd tying the lose the messenger but Bonnie's clumsy steps slowed her down.

"Are you Ms. Morticia Vitann?" the messenger said, trying to speak over the crowd.

"It's not robbery if they're dead! It's not like they're using it!" she immediately replied.

"What? I have a message for you." he said as he handed her the letter.

"Oh... forget I said anything." She took the letter and took a look, relieved she wasn't in trouble again. The contents were mostly filler, basically requesting her for a mission. Under normal circumstances should would have refused, missions are of no interest to her. The Arcane Coalition has access to resources she needs for her research, that's all. But the bottom of the message warned that if she didn't take the mission she could face a hefty fine for a certain graveyard incident. And so Morticia made her way towards the airship docks with Bonnie behind her carrying bags of various souvenirs she bought at the festival.

Moving across roofs with almost no sound at all Finn enjoyed the run. The wind filling the flaps of his cape every time he jumped. This running was of not hard for him. He is used to it since he was small and his Cathian side made it natural to run like this in complete silence. His mind was free yet focused only on his running. He stopped on one of the roofs, before him was the designated docking bay. Then out of nowhere Finn heard a shoot from the docking bay. Surprised he instictivly raan forward, this time he picked up the pace to a sprint. As he came closer the sounds of fighting could be heard. When the wind blew in to his direction Finn took a long swipe of air through his nose. Thieves, outlaws! Finn cursed as he ran. From under his cape he pulled Waylander and readied the weapon. He stopped as he reached the entrance to the docking bay. The sounds of battle and the smell of gunpowder ran through the air. At first Finn wanted to go inside. Then he remembered that most docking bays didn’t have much of a roof. He looked around him and found a series of pipes leading up. “ here we go, I guess we’ll see action before we get to know the mission.” He said to Reva as he began climbing the pipes. Moments later he ducked down, he was climbing through some small shaft, mostly used for air conditioning or something.

Took him of full three minutes to reach the clearing of the bay. A couple of feet away was a mast of some sort. He jumped on it, ran across to the other side and stopped at the tip of it. Looking down in a crouched position, he saw the T.A.C. forces fighting the outlaws. “As I have feared. This is not good.” Finn said, And Reva ran down somewhere, lost in all the crates, ships, etc.
Finn looked at the action, waylander in his hand. He saw how two outlaws jumped on one man at the same time. They were blown back. Attacking again the solider could defend only from one, the other got a bolt in his neck. Finn didn’t have many bolts so he used them only in sure shoot, or to save another person. One man was taken down as Reva bit through his neck, and quickly went back into hiding. This made the outlaws look around. As one saw a hooded dark figure on a mast he pointed at it and as he was about to yell, a bolt went through his eye. It was in Finn's interest to stay unnoticed.

The sound of gunfire punched the air and cackled off into the distance like booming thunder. Dmitry quickly summoned a translucent barrier between himself and the outlaws. He focused on casting his incantation until it completely engulfed the surrounding supplies, then immediately activated the conductive gears of his mechanical arm. Doing so alleviated his obligation toward stabilizing the spell, allowing him to concentrate more on the fight.

They're sure as hell reckless. If it weren't for their shoddy aim, they'd have damaged the very cargo they hoped to take back. Three T.A.C. officers hustled over from the opposite entrance way and immediately opened fire. The momentum of the outlaw's battle charge was momentarily halted, forcing them to jump for cover as their concentration of attack was now split between multiple targets.

The leader of the pack was the most armored of the bunch. He wore thick steel coverings that made him look like an automaton. He was also glowing in various ethereal hues, suggesting that he had been spell-casted --- likely given defensive barriers and who knows what else. Dmitry couldn't hear what he was spouting to his underlings, but he sought to take advantage of their hesitation. He brought his pistol up and lined his shot at the leader's head.

Bang!

The leader's helmet shattered. He buckled for a moment and looked as though he was ready to keel over. However, as Dmitry predicted, the magics that were protecting him had sweltered at the strike site, deflecting most of the blow from the bullet and preventing fatal injury. Angry eyes of an org with an unkept mane of black matted hair glared in Kovalev's direction.

Kovalev shrugged. "Got your attention?" The protective barrier sputtered frantically as each projectile clanged against it. Dmitry saw that a small group of the outlaws broke off from the main force to engage the T.A.C. officers, while the rest focused on him. "Good. Now let's just hope we have some early birds in my new unit that'll arrive earlier than scheduled..." Two humas with long swords shuffled onto the narrow docking bridge. Dmitry smiled. "Fish in a barrel, and all that." He mumbled, hip-firing two well placed shots into the oncoming assailants. Ethereal hues of magical energy sparked at where the wound sites would be. While no physical damage was dealt, the sudden jerk of opposing force knocked them off balance, sending them tumbling onto the wooden planks. Shit... they're spell-casted too? No way they have enchantments, I'm not sensing a power source on them that could generate these spells... must have a damn caster hidden somewhere...got to cast a scanner spell and mark the bastard...

Just as he was about to prepare himself for an incantation, Dmitry caught movement at his peripheral. Another gang of outlaws had arrived: two cronies with what looked like grenade launchers, and one man in a mechanical frame, armed with bulky hand cannons.

"Are you kidding me?!..." He cursed. Dmitry glanced over to one of the large crates that imprisoned his automaton. Yeah, they don't give a shit about the supplies... not if they're bringing in this kind of fire power...

"Shit... I don't want to use Ivanov but I think I might have t-" He canceled the notion as he saw two of the outlaws drop to the ground, followed by another from the main force. He looked up and scanned the rooftops. His old eyes couldn't make out much of anything from where he stood, but instinctually, he sensed that another player had entered the fight. "Bout time the playing field started even'n up." He presumed that it was one of his squad mates. Dmitry only hoped that the rest of them hastily followed suit. His eyes went back to the frame pilot, whose hand cannons were now aimed directly at Kovalev.

Dmitry holstered his pistol, then clutched his mechanical arm that continued to feed energy into the protective barrier. As he did so, he quickly assessed the battlefield. The two swordsmen he had downed clambered upright, and were now joined by three of their cohorts, who also brandished melee weapons. That makes five assailants approaching him through the wooden docking bridge. The outlaw leader, now staying back with his firing squad of four, who continued to pelt the barrier behind crate boxes in the centre area of the hangar bay. Two heavy artillery men, plus their frame suit pilot, getting ready to unload their firepower from the entranceway. And can't forget how ever many mages might be camouflaged from sight that are maintaining their defenses. On his side? One possible squad mate and three T.A.C. officers, two injured, and one scared shitless behind a crate.

"This is going to be a looong day..." Dmitry mouthed his sorcery, streams of mana energy pulsed from his hand as it transferred over to his mechanical arm. The metal gears sputtered out steam as the protective barrier grew more dense. He gritted his teeth and braced for the incoming bombardment from the enemy's heavy artillery. "And where the hell is our airship!?"

Connor arrived at the bay, his fools motley flopping about him in the breeze, in a tizzy of confusion. There were loud bangs and lots of color coming from the area ahead. Was the festival still going on inside the docking bay, he pondered to himself? But that didn't really quite make sense, while the notion may have seemed rather odd, much cargo was flammable as was some fuels used to run airships and he doubted anyone would be celebrating with such dangerous ordinance in an area like this, where a mishap with fire could mean something exploding, even he wasn't that crazy. He chuckled slightly as he realized, no, he was exactly that crazy.

It was mid chuckle then that he rounded the corner only to witness the set of three outlaws from behind. Those in front of him appeared to have some type of heavy ordnance launchers, most probably grenades, while the one in the middle had on some type of mechanical suit with large front facing hand cannons, no real rear armament, and little to no ease of maneuverability. They seemed to be working in conjecture with a larger body of outlaws that was further to the side, in front of and firing on a man in front of a large stack of supplies, that he appeared to be protecting and fighting over.

Connor watched as the man they were focusing on, presumably the TAC officer he was meant to be reporting to, enacted a relatively powerful barrier around himself, using his mechanical arm to stabilize the mana so as to not have to put in as much concentration or effort on maintaining the spell. Connor had to give it to the man for creativity on that. "Well Chi." Connor said with a wide grin, "Looks like it is time to earn our keep around here."

Connor drew his pistol from inside his pants in his left hand and simultaneously spun his staff from his back. Then with a steady sure hand he took sights with the pistol and shot the men with the grenade launchers twice each, in the backs of their legs. Now had the gun been an ordinary gun, firing ordinary bullets, they would have bounced off, most of the lethal force defected, probably only causing minor pain and slight surprise, but this was not an ordinary gun, and Connor never, ever shot ordinary bullets. These rounds were each individually packed with spikes of fire magic, and the gun itself amplified and directed whatever magic passed through it, and so when the bullets made contact with the shielding of the individuals legs, instead of bouncing off relatively harmlessly, a blaze launched through the shielding the outlaws had cast around them, blowing out the unsuspecting mens knees.

Temporarily ignoring the battle Connor called out to the man in the barrier, "Dmitry Kovalev I'm guessing? I hope I'm not spoiling your fun, but I think I will take care of these three hooligans, so perhaps you can focus on the others outlaws on hand?" Connor laughed a little maniacally, and with his staff in his right hand made a sweeping gesture, engulfing the mechanically clad outlaw in flames, before realizing to his chagrin that while the suit might be heat protected the hand cannons ammunition probably was not as we-- interrupting that thought was a relatively large blast, caused by all of the cannoneers ammunition igniting simultaneously launching the outlaws on either side of the blast, who would now be feeling much more then just the gunshot wounds to the legs, away, as well as sending the man who had been wearing the mechanical suit pinwheeling out of control. Connor winced as the man hit the ground face first with a sickening thud.

"I do hope I didn't kill any of those poor saps, Chi. If I did I might have to fill out paperwork, and you know how much I detest paperwork." Connor shook his head then jogged to join his leader under the protective spell. "Connor De'Finn reporting for duty your officerlyness, so got any orders for me mr. boss man?"

As Allan approached the bay, he noticed smoke rising from it, and sensed that something was probably very wrong. He whistled, and Lysander let out a roar that scared open a path through the crowd, and Allan crouched, preparing to make use of his enhanced legs. Lysander lowered himself to all fours, and the two were off like Olympic sprinters, moving faster than any normal Humas had any right to. When they arrived at the scene, Allan drew his massive sword, letting it fall with enough force to crack the concrete when it touched the ground. Noticing a TAC officer standing off against a gang of outlaws, he was relieved when a Ranath showed up, firing at two of the outlaws and setting them on fire. The officer was holding his own for now, protected by some sort of magical barrier and taking shots at the outlaws advancing on him. He gripped it with two hands, and crouched again, determining where he could help the most. Settling on a course of action, he dashed forward, slamming his 35-pound sword into one of the outlaws, overwhelming his magical protection and sending him flying backwards.

Lysander smashed into one of the others, swiping at him with massive paws, bashing against the magical barrier until it yielded, and downing the second outlaw. The Ranath seemed to have the other three outlaws under control, though Allan was worried about the power suit's ammunition cooking off in such close proximity to the Ranath's fire bullets. The Ranath addressed the man as "Dmitry Kovalev," a name spoken of in very high regard among the Coalition. Allan immediately snapped up his sword and extended it in a military salute, arms out, blade perpendicular to the ground, feet slightly apart and boxed, and back ramrod straight. "Sir! It is my honor to defend you. TAC Officer Allan Phaedrus, reporting for duty."

"Now, when we arrive, Tick Tock, I want you to immediately find the ship's workshop and set up my belongings. I'll need the space for my studies, Hehe, HO!"

Quallyss was indeed pleased with the change in plans. Normally, he would detest having to miss out on the final marking period of the year, but at the same time, he loved field work. It was the most challenging aspect of his job, having to be on the forefront of scientific endeavor and research. Only a mind as truly brilliant as Quallyss' was up to the task, and he knew that he would be challenged. And so, with a bounce in his step and a grin on his face, he disembarked from his private carriage and entered the hangar, with Tick Tock carrying luggage, tool kits and other necessities closely behind Quallyss.

Humming a tune, Quallyss rounded a corner and heard talking in the next section. Probably some early comers, he thought to himself. Quallyss was about to make his presence known when he smelled the familiar aroma of gunpowder, and heard the crack of firearms. Cautiously, he poked his head around the corner, and his ear flicked in the direction of the talking. At the sound of gunfire, Tick Tock noisily dropped all it's things, backed up to a storage crate with arms out, and it's knees began to shake violently, with a loud rattling. "Quiet, Tick Tock!, You'll alert them to our position!" Quallyss breathed at him, anger apparent in his voice. Quallyss detested violence.

Quallyss went on all fours, and jumped up the crates, observing the scene from the supports high in the rooftop, drawing his flintlock pistol. Hmm, it appears they have a situation... No, wait, it's all sorted. He saw the familiar Dimitry Kovalev under a magical barrier, accompanied by two others Quallyss didn't recognize. Apparently, there had been a firefight. But it appears it is all settled now. It was then that Quallyss noticed the air crackle around a particular spot, ever so slightly and barely perceptible. Ah, so we have a mage trying to hide, eh? Time to drop in and say hi, I think... Quallyss nimbly hopped through the frames of the roofing until he was right above the spot where the mage was hidden. He then holstered his pistol, jumped down and free fell, boots first.

Quallyss landed on top of the mage with a loud thud, and knocked him to the ground, dazing and concussing him. He stepped off the mage, and dusted himself off, before standing to attention in front of Dmitry, saluting him. "T.A.C. Officer Quallyss sir. At your service. We received a letter asking - Hang on, just a second," Quallyss drew his pistol, and turned around, firing it at the mage he previously dropped on, as he was trying to crawl away. He made a grunt, fell back to the floor and and was still. "Sorry sir, I have no time for criminals. Any who, Quallyss here. We have heard quite the stories of your endeavors, Mister Kovalev. And surely, quite the tale here already, wouldn't you say, he he?"