Intermission- Alicia Le'roux and Hanus Wolfblood

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Alicia had been eager to arrive at the military quarters, having learnt of the location of Hanus at last. Ever since she discovered the general was in the city, the Liverian vampire had been desperate to meet with such a legendary figure for a number of reasons: chief amongst them to ask for help in training. She had found herself woefully lacking against Dirge and his minions, something she was not eager to repeat. Truth be told, she had struggled against the Half-orc and, while she knew she could have beaten him, it told her how unprepared she was for the orc himself.

As she entered the military quarters she would be greeted with the sight of the training room, though it served multiple functions as a large and open space for the military to gather together, practice, or simply cavort with one another. At the centre of the room was Hanus, who was overseeing training that day, likely to try and avoid politics once again as he was no particular fan of such things. He hadn’t noticed Alicia enter yet, though as he sniffed the air, his eyes wandered in her direction. “Vampire.” He comments with a large, playful grin. “...Diana… I would recognize the stench of her bloodline anywhere.”

Alicia stared at the legend in front of her with a mixture of excitement and surprise. She had never heard of a being that could actually smell the vamparism on a person, let alone the lineage. It was impressive, to say the least. “and you are Hanus Wolfblood. It is a pleasure to meet you: my name is Alicia Le’roux.” She bows her head to the general, smiling with an unabashed excitement. “I would be honoured if you would spar with me.”

“Spar?” Hanus says with an amused twist coming to his grin. Some of the men training nearby stop and stare, and whisper amongst each other. “Well.” Hanus motions for a pair of blunted blades against a wall, training swords that, while they could still incidentally cut, couldn’t really deal any significant wounds. One of the men retrieves both and tosses one to Hanus, who catches it out of midair and unsheathes it in one swift motion. “If you have a safe word, you should probably tell me now, I get a little… Overly exuberant in these affairs.” The man then walks over to Alicia and holds the blade out for her, recognizing her noble birth he bows his head. “Mi’lady.”

Alicia watches the militiaman walk over with the blunted sword, and she takes it from him with a flourish of her own. She gives the militiaman a smile of appreciation, both for the bringing of the weapon, as well as the courtesy shown towards her. “Safe word? How very forward of you general Hanus.” She offers the man a playful smirk, enjoying the prospect of a duel with a legend. “I will yield if you force me to: I’d rather keep my body unbroken, if it is all the same to you.”

Swinging the mock-sword from side to side gave the duellist a feel for the weapon’s weight, and after a few swings, she squared up to the general: lowering her center of gravity and entering a more free stance. “Without wanting to sound cliche: en guarde.”

“Surely you remember… That the one who offers to duel, is the aggressor.” With a sigh Hanus twirls the blade in one hand like a paper weight, showing his unusual strength off to his opponent. “Still. I’m not one to turn down a fair maiden’s invitation.” He suddenly dashes forward, blade firmly gripped in both hands as he swings in an uppercut motion towards Alicia, his feet firmly against the floor, knees bent so he would have a low posture.

The strength and speed of the general was more than Alicia had expected, and every instinct told her not to block the blow. Even if she could, which was something she wasn’t confident about, she would probably injure herself as much as the swing could. With little other choice, instinct had her stepping backwards, away from the blade and away from Hanus’ low swing. So focused on the dodge was she that Alicia didn’t even bother to throw a counter attack, she just stumbled away and regained her stance, lower than before: ready to dodge again. “That was...unexpected.”

“I’m not sure why you chose this fate.” He turns and faces her, circling her slowly, blade pointed downward and never straying more than a few feet from her. “You are of Diana’s brood. I am of Malaki’s brood. We are warriors, and tyrants. You are, at best, a highly sophisticated prostitute.” His grin turns somewhat savage. “Why would you choose to fight? You merely waste your talents you could use at a brothel.”

Alicia’s eyes seem to darken in anger at the words. The silver irises turning fierce in the face of the insults levied against her. She opened her mouth to speak, then quickly silenced herself. No speaking here: no words. She advanced forward, slowly closing the distance between the pair, her sword mirroring the position of his own. Suddenly, she lashed out, launching a swift feint from the right before moving into a savage lunge: aiming straight for the general’s throat.

With a surprising speed Hanus was taken off guard, the feint was one thing, but the lash out for the vitals was another. The blade strikes his right cheek, sliding off of it with just enough force that, despite being blunted, it did in fact cut his cheek cleanly and with surgical precision. Leaping back, he touches his cheek and chuckles, shaking his head. “Not bad.” He then coats the tip of his blade with his blood. “We’ll see how you last when I don’t stop now.” The nearby soldiers cheer at that, one yelling out a bet at how long Alicia would last. A whopping thirty seconds, it seemed, was the general consensus. “Prepare yourself.” What a gentlemanly masquerade.

Alicia should have felt pride at wounding the man, or perhaps a cruel moment of vindication. The scent of Hanus’ blood should have made her ecstatic, or perhaps even a bit hungry, but instead she was just focused on the anger and the cruelty in her chest. He had insulted her, berated her: and now his men joined in on the jeering. Which of these men were her equal? Who amongst them had ever wounded a hero? She felt an overwhelming desire to prove them all wrong, and there was only one way she could do that. “Your men suggest bets, do they? I would levy one of my own. If I last more than thirty seconds, as your men seem to think impossible: you must attend the ball, with me. In fact, I will force you to dance with me. Do you match these terms with your own?” The move was a bold one, a stupid one even. He could ask of her any number of things, but she wanted him to feel some of the insult she felt now, to be forced into such a position would indeed be insulting to the man, she was sure. He seemed a man of action: of war and of blood, not of politics and dancing.

“If you lose, you will attend the ball with Gooche.” One of the men whistles, and a large, drooling mutt stumbles his way into the room, with large floppy ears. He looks at Alicia briefly before going cross eyed and sneezing, then attempts to lick his own nose. “...And, you will tell anyone who asks how proud you are to be with such a sterling example of his kind.” The mutt barks, then starts licking the floor instead of his paws. “Acceptable?”

“Perfectly. Either way I dance with a dog.” Without any other words, she raised her blade and pointed it in the direction of the general, keeping her self low and her weight on the back foot, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Hanus immediately and without further warning lunges forward, he knew what his advantages were, and he was going to use them. Swinging his blade from the left to the right, a simple attack really. Still, his feet were constantly moving, not giving himself a good footing, and not truly investing in this opening move. Why? Who knew, except Hanus, of course.

Alicia, like Hanus, knew that strength was certainly in his favour. Blocking a blow would have to be a desperation move, but he was presenting such an easy target to block: why? Instinct told her to attack, and she wanted to, but then every piece of logic that kept instinct in check suggested that avoiding confrontation was wiser. Instinct versus initiative, a duellist’s indecision could cost them dearly.

In the end, Alicia settled on initiative. She tapped her blade against the tip of his, sending the attacking blade upwards as she ducked and took a step back, away from Hanus and away from danger. Part of her wished she’d gone on the attack: Stepped into the wild swing and attacked low, but she had far too healthy a respect for the general. For all the anger, she would not blind herself to facts: this is a battle she should lose.

He grins and mutters a single word as his silver irises focused on hers. “Perfect.” Seeing as how she just stepped back from him, he throws his blade at her, high, towards her upper chest. Simultaneously he goes low, and body checks her at the waist. She could either stop him, or the blade, and this time, jumping backward was not an option.

Seeing him go for such an ingenious two-pronged attack had her in a moment of dread: the blade was high, but not too high. The body check was low, but not too low. Dodging one made the other a threat, and that stepping backwards had her hit by both. She was in a corner, but that just meant one thing.

If you can’t dodge, you attack.

She ducked low to meet Hanus, planning to avoid the blade above, but she kept her sword in hand and thrust forward with the blunted edge, aiming for the general’s forehead. She wasn’t factoring in anything like mercy or what would happen if she damaged a hero of Renalta: She couldn’t afford to. Instinct and anger were holding the blade as much as Alicia herself.

He brings his arms up in front of himself as he had already intended to tackle her down with the blade coming his way. Allowing it to slip between his wrists, he then snaps it at the midpoint and finishes his charge as he brushes the broken blade aside, tackling her with enough force to send her reeling a few feet onto her back. Keeping up the charge and taking advantage of her anger, he slides his feet along the floor and then jumps, intending to land on her prone figure. “It’s OVER!” He yells triumphantly.

Her over-reliance on her weapon proved to be a major fault, as suddenly the blunted blade was made redundant and her backside hit the floor. She wished she had the good common sense to just yield, then and there. If she really wanted, she could invoke the right of first-blood. She had every chance to get out, to denounce the bet: declare herself the winner, then and there.

...but pride was a dangerous bed-fellow, and pride had her determined to at least make Hanus work for the honour of humiliating her again. He heard him before she saw him, a flying missile intending to pin her down and win the duel. She had already learned that strength was hugely in his favour, even when she had a weapon and he was unarmed. Options were limited and defeat seemed certain. She had only one real shot left, and that was the riskiest one yet.

She waited until Hanus was as close as possible, the wolf looming above the lamb, and then she lashed out with a knee: bringing it up with the intention of introducing it to his face. The image of his nose bashing against her knee was enough of an imaginary boost to make her forget how foolhardy the plan was.

As he descends he doesn’t notice the knee until it’s too late. It strikes him in the chest, and the entire room winced as they heard an audible crack sound. Hanus exhales, eyes displaying a hint of pain despite his berserker training. He retaliates, however, and shoves her knee down, then presses a wrist against her throat. She was pinned, it was over, though judging by the grim look on his face, she had managed to do a little genuine damage to him. The soldiers standing nearby stared, silently. They knew he had won but Alicia had actually managed to do what none of them could: Harm a legend. Hanus slowly stands up, rubbing the left side of his chest gingerly. “That’s two ribs.” He states plainly, though the corners of his mouth raise slightly. “Well done. However, you should have used my momentum earlier, and closed in to trip me.”

The soldiers look at each other and nod, once again coming to a quick consensus. “Twenty seconds, about. Give or take a couple seconds.” Hanus spits out a little blood as the ribs were already starting to heal, and offers Alicia a hand back up onto her feet. “Any normal man would have lost when his ribs were broken. Thus, I will go to the ball with you.”

The blow to his chest had sure as hell sounded good, but it had not felt good to her at all. While she hadn’t broken any bones, she had bruised her knee in the process and the pain of it all was only silenced by Hanus’ wrist against her throat. She refused to admit to yielding, but the position said it all. She had lost, and by her count: she hadn’t made thirty seconds.

Truth be told, she was surprised that Hanus had went straight to offering advice and, for lack of a better word, congratulations. It was a defeat, but a sweet one indeed. She took the general’s hand as he offered to lift her, standing on her own two, albeit shaky, feet.

The soldiers confirmed her thinking, and she felt her shoulders dip in disappointment. She bit back the bile in her throat and the words on her tongue, but Hanus declared himself the loser in the bout, due to the fact she’d done what most thought impossible. Her body language shifted and she grinned broadly while she looked at her fellow vampire, ignoring some of the seething distaste underneath. “It would be dishonourable for me to force you to undertake all the conditions. I will not force you to dance, General. Besides, think of the scandals it would cause.” she offered a smirk, before extending her hand to his. “I am...thankful for your advice, General Hanus. I will be sure to follow instinct a bit more in the future.”

Hanus cocks an eyebrow at her prideful expression, then grins himself as he pulls her closer. “You act like a Drow woman with that pride. I drove you to anger and it caused you to make mistakes.” He then whistles Gooche over to his side, and scratches him behind the ears. “On a battlefield, make that same mistake again, and your opponent will kill you.” Gooche tilts his head and whines as he looks at Hanus’ still healing ribs. “And then, all that pride, will matter little.” With a click of his tongue and a single point, Gooche returned back to his corner to curl up. The men began to disperse and return to training wordlessly, though they showed Alicia far more respect in how they looked at her.

Alicia was taken aback as Hanus pulled her closer, but she doesn’t lash out in return. Instead, she listens to the wisdom of the general, and watches with a bit of revulsion as her near-dance partner comes closer. Having avoided Gooche as her dance partner was almost as satisfying as having beat the man that angered her. “Would it be too much of me to ask that I spar with you another time at a later date? I sought you out after being...insufficient in the town.”

“Of course. I will be available… Presuming things do not deteriorate further on the eastern frontier.” He stares towards the east, towards the Kingdom of Liveria. “Reports have come in that Witch Hunters have mobilized near the border and have started hunting our kind in the eastern grasslands… I am sure you know what this potentially means.”

The news was new to her, and it was frightful news at that. If vampires were being so aggressively hunted by her home nation it made her future prospects much, much bleaker. “It could mean a great deal of things, none of them good. Do you think Crown-prince Xavier himself is behind this?”

“I don’t know.” Hanus states honestly. “We will only know more come the ball later.”

“All the more reason for you to attend, general.” She smirks at the vampire, having cooled off significantly from her previous prideful rage. “If nothing else, accompanying me to the dance will give you an excuse to stick your nose in Liverian business.”

“Indeed.” Hanus says as he looks at her with a flat expression. “That couldn’t possible be why I offered...”

“General Hanus, you shock me. The very thought of you using me as a platform for your ulterior motives: how very politician-like of you. Certainly not what I'd expect from one of Malaki’s brood.” Alicia smirked at Hanus, taking the chance to jab at his pride, like he had jabbed at hers. The dynamic between them was like a fencing match: he had drawn first blood, but not as easily and with consequence as he had thought he would. There would be many rematches to come, it seemed: both on and off the field of battles and sparing. “If nothing else, I will take my leave, then. It has been an eventful honour, General.” Alicia offers the general a polite curtsey, being sure to keep eye contact with the man, before turning around and beginning to exit the room. She offered one last shout backwards to the vampire hero. “I do hope you choose something nice to wear.”

Intermission; Rayvon and Draza

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The cart and mule kept on moving, now leaving the castle grounds entirely as they approached the outer walls of the grand keep and palace. The last things on her way was to pass the training grounds of the courtyard before she would be fully off into town with the last of her goods to give away, and check on Granmere and friends to see how they were doing after the party the night prior.

Various militia men to full knights were training in some small numbers, those that Draza had not yet had the pleasure of meeting or of knowing their names, but she did recognize one from Arian out among them, though the exact name escaped her, a fact that surely just meant they hadn’t talked enough yet. Pulling her mule to a stop, she stands up in her cart and calls out, “Hark, Queen’s Blade in the training fields, how fare you this fine day?”

Rayvon’s hand slips on her blade as her concentration is broken and a knight smacks down with his blade across her shoulder. She winces at the impact, though it had done nothing to break through her armour. She rolls her shoulder uncertainly as she looks back at the small voice that had addressed her, her sword being sheathed at her hip. “Hmm, I fare well enough, though I suppose I just lost my spar. What of you, fae folk?”

Draza’s hands quickly slipped over her mouth, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you lose,” her tone drops a bit, losing some of the energy, “But er, I was just passing by and saw you and like wanted to say hey? I’ve not been seeing enough of my fellow Blades for my liking. What with the whole ‘horrible awful future missions of doomy death doom’ I’d like it if we were more comrades than co-workers, y’know?”

Rayvon raises a brow and chuckles, lowering her hood as she moved over to the cart. “A kind thought to have. I suppose we very might be the last friends we all know in the coming events.” She rubs her hands together, finding them sore before taking off her gloves, wrinkling her nose at the blisters that had begun to bubble up from her training sessions of late. “It is a good thing you do then, I suppose, to try and offer a potential familiar face for us all to return to. Ah, but I suppose many still do not know you. I myself, for example.” She tucks her gloves under her arm as the other crosses over her heart in a salute as she bows formally. “Rayvon Krayvitch of the Kingdom Liveria. And you are?”

While certainly not able to match the sheer coolness of an actual bad ass doing that salute, she does her own diminutive version of it in return, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintanceship, Lady Krayvitch. I’m Draza Zorya of the Rheinfeld Republic, at your service.” She stands up a bit more after the fact before turning to her cart half full of sweets, “My services being a bit limited at the time, however.”

She eyes the cart and smiles sweetly, “Perhaps I could assist you then. We could banter as you go, then. A fair idea, no?”

Draza didn’t immediately pick up on what she meant, but it did click into place, “Oh, I wouldn’t dare impose on your training for you to accompany me into town. I’m not even on Blade business in my trip.”

Rayvon snorts, crossing her arms, “Am I not allowed to take off from Blades’ duties as well? It would be a refreshing break to accompany you, Lady Draza. I have been training enough this day and would prefer to handle business of a less… brutal nature, as well as it is to be trained with a blade.” Her eyes go over the cart curiously, eyeing the sugary treats and the sweet scent coming off of them. Her mouth waters as she remembers such scents flooding the kitchen in her youth every weekend. “Besides, it would be worth seeing the smiles of those who receive such boons.”

Scratching behind her head, Draza shrugged, “I suppose I could take your company if you’re so insistent upon it. Besides, I always, always make extra,” she said as she moved a blanket that covered another small basket mixed with the others, “Just in case. Y’know, if you’re interested, Lady Krayvitch.”

Her eyes are all but glued to the sweets that Draza reveals as she bites her lip and tries to turn her attention away from the golden cookies. “I, ah, as kind of a gesture that is, I imagine there are others who might like your sweets, Draza, and I would not feel right accepting them without compensating for the work you must had put into making them.”

“Pish posh dish wash, you’re gifting me with company, it’s only fair that I gift you back,” she said, slowly coaxing her mule to move again so they can talk about this while walking through the streets instead of just sitting in the courtyard.

Rayvon nods slowly, striding along the wagon lazily, “I suppose that could be true…” She smiles a tad and takes one of the cookies, nibbling upon it. “So, you are from the Republic. That could not have been easy. If I recall from my studies, Rheinfeld is a very harsh sort in regards to the other races.”

“They can be, but if you throw yourself into their cause, and pull your weight… however little there is you can get by pretty well,” Draza replied, “I was picked on quite a lot until I found my niche.”

Cookie crumbs over her face, the Paladin goes to brush them away, “Pick on you? Now why would anyone do that to such a peddler of treats and good thoughts, hmm? Tis simply not right.”

“It was mostly the children, and I was young at the time too. But, for the most part, it’s because I’m small and weak, so people think they can get away with it,” she shrugged weakly, “But then I let them get to know me, I become their friend, I welcome even their jaded words with a hug, and they tend to stop being like that. Even the Templars learned to like me.”

“It sounds to be a rather charmed life, bullies aside,” she muses, glancing at the small Draza. “I am surprised, though. With your apparent gift for making friends, surely one must have stepped up as your champion. It makes no sense that no one would come to your aide, to be frank.”

“I mostly end up talking them out of it,” Draza chuckled, “I end up feeling bad that they’d risk themselves for me, and I can’t properly pay them back. And, well,” she grinned a bit, sheepishly, “When I’ve set my mind to something, I can usually talk my way into or out of anything. While keeping the friendship. Like uh,” she continued, “The Templar guys I was with? They risked themselves for me, and I paid them back as much as I could. I’m sure if I run into them again they’d be willing to pick that spot back up if I let them. And there was this one guy in the Republic, a former criminal… well, I’ve had offers, is all I’m saying.”

Rayvon watches Draza out of the corner of her eye before looking back ahead, “Perhaps it would be wise of you to take someone up on their offer. I have heard of the way you won the day at the Westernmost tower. I am afraid, though, that to many in this world, the idea of friendship and baked goods does not appeal. It would do you well to seek a guardian in our line of work.”

“It’d have to be someone I trusted, and someone who also isn’t a jerk, and strangely enough…” she stops, “Well, I just don’t know enough people well enough yet, is all. Even the ones who haven’t been the nicest to me are still nice people. I know they are, because… well, I just do.”

“You have a very innocent and naive look at people. I hope you do not have the misfortune of meeting the less wholesome of our force. I have the feeling there are many in this work for personal gain and more so willing to commit atrocities so long as they profit,” she glances aside at Draza, “But let us not allow that to ruin this day. Where is your first stop, small friend?”

“One Chester A. Mapleleaf, this is actually his cart I’m riding in, and while I have already paid him, I also have the treats to give extra thanks,” Draza said as she cast a glance up to Rayvon before resuming looking at the road, “He was inclined to rent it and the mule at a lower than normal price, and I’m just reimbursing him for it. He lives,” she points off down one of the many side roads off the main wide ones, “Third street after the red oak tree by the fountain. His is the house with the white trim windows.”

She looks down the road curiously before nodding, “Ah, I see. Kind of you, then…” She taps her lip curiously, looking at the basket of sweets she had taken from earlier. “Ah, Draza, you said these were all extra cookies, right? Might I request a trade of those fine baked goods for my service in the future? I seem to think I know a family who might appreciate them…” She coughs, a light flush upon her cheeks as she remembers the stone mason’s family.

“If they’d make a family happy to have, then you can take them off me for free. My treat, you don’t need to owe me anything for it,” Draza said, beaming a smile up at Rayvon, “But if it’s a speciality delivery, I could bake something even more fresh and tailored to their tastes if you’d prefer.”

Rayvon smiles sheepishly, “I wouldn’t know what their preferences are, I just feel as if I still owe them for my request and how rudely I barged in after the scare with the bombs.”

“Oh, back in Arian?” Draza asked, “That’s quite a journey to be taking when the ball is so soon approaching. Do you have time to make it there and back again if you were to go?”

Rayvon considers it before shaking her head, “Only if I were to rent a horse, but at that point, it would still be uncertain. No, it may be best if I were to hire someone to deliver them specifically, perhaps?”

“Or, if we are not thrown into the wilds again immediately after the ball, you can arrange transport, and I’ll get you fresh sweets for the trip as well?” Draza paused, “And also actual food rations. I can do more than sweets, I promise.”

She beams appreciatively at the sprite, “That is quite well of you, and it would be much appreciated. Would you mind my perhaps helping with the task, though? I would not feel right, you putting in all the work, Draza.”

“Someone’s life is improved, and you get to pay your debts,” she said, “That’s all I need in return for my work. Speaking of,” the mule came to a stop at a cul de sac, moving over to the house that it knew as home without Draza guiding it. She tugged at its reins and brought it to a stop, “Hopefully Sir Mapleleaf is home. Do you mind picking up,” she looks at the various baskets of goodies before picking one out that had a small bit of yellow ribbon tied to it, “That one?”

Rayvon nods and picks up the basket easily, happy to assist the diminutive Draza with her tasks for the day, “Certainly. I am glad to be of service.” She smiles and winks, taking a step back and gesturing for Draza to take the lead.

The sprite hopped out of the cart, and with a pat of the mule’s leg, she walked over to the door and knocked. After a few light rappings, the door began to click and stir, as a smaller less obvious door within the base of the upper door opened up, revealing a gnome of all things. He was a tired looking soul, old and weary, with thick glasses, but his face still lit up when he saw Draza, “Draza! What a surprise, are you returning Eustice so soon?”

Draza shook her head in response, “No sir, I’ve come bearing gifts of thanks. Sweets for your marvellous great grandchildren. I’m sure they’ll love it and gorge themselves silly for weeks. I mean, check out the basket size!” She excitedly pointed up at the basket in Rayvon’s hands.

“Oh my, Draza, now you didn’t have to go about--” he began, only to be interrupted by Draza taking his hand in hers, their sizes actually being fairly similar. “Oh just take them. Be glad I’m not doing this and paying in full. You can surely accept at least one kindness from me after you’ve given me your own.”

Mapleleaf blushed and frowned, “Confound it, alright. You, big friend of Draza, I’ll get the door for ye, one moment.” The gnome closed the door and went back inside as things like latches and machinations were heard on the other side.

Rayvon, who had been silent watching the display, raises her brows at the curiosity. She could not remember seeing so many different races in a day as she had here in Renalta. It was a curious thing, to say the least. She waits simply as the door makes its way open and nods her thanks. Even though the larger door was open, she still found herself having to duck her head to make sure she fit through. “Thank you, master Mapleleaf.”

“Oh, t’weren’t nothing my dear,” the gnome says with a grin as he appears to do something… he’s quickly stopped by Draza, whatever it was that he was doing. She silently gave a glare before her eyes went back to cheery. “So, where can Lady,” she stresses, “Krayvitch set the sweets down?” Draza asks as she surveys the abode. Things were certainly scaled down for a gnome and sprite to enjoy the home, but there were still larger pieces of furniture there, more appropriate for a child or a dwarf. “Oh, on the table, the big one,” he replied, pointing at a moderately sized dark oaken table off to the side, where a single chair sat, “Laern can take care of that later.”

Rayvon looks at the gnome shrewdly before awkwardly making her way to the oak table to set the basket. She found herself trying to make herself as small as possible lest she knock something over and cause a mess. With a sigh, she finds a space that seemed like she could not wreak much havoc and simply stays put there, giving Draza a pitiable look, displaying her discomfort for a brief moment.

Draza looked up and saw the discomfort before quickly turning back to Sir Mapleleaf, “I would love to stay and chat again, but I have other baskets to deliver. Perhaps after the ball if I’m not sequestered away on a mission immediately?”

The gnome nodded, “That’s quite alright, we’ll talk when we get the chance. Your company is always welcomed here, Draza.” With their leave granted, Draza made haste to leave with her companion so she did not continue to feel so unpleasant in the confines of the home. They had other stops to visit, and more pleasant ones for her at that.

Rayvon clears her throat and mutters to Draza in a hushed tone after leaving, “I am sorry, I am just not one for such confined places.” She flushes and looks away with an embarrassed smile. “I had not meant to rush you, Draza.”

“It’s quite fine, Lady Krayvitch,” said Draza, “There’s plenty of stops left, and most of them will be better sized for your comfort. And,” she adds, “Without lecherous eyes. Mapleleaf tried to get frisky with me first we met, but I had none of his shenanigans. I apologize that he even tried it with you.” Draza sighed, before giggling a bit as she shook her head, “Dirty old man.”

Rayvon shuffles uncomfortably, her eyes going downcast. “Ah, I feel I have more than my fair share with lecherous beings of late,” she pouts, drawing her cloak tighter about herself. “Thank you, then, for coming to my aide before anything could happen.”

“It is nary a worry nor problem for me to save one’s good dignity and purity, see?,” Draza said in unusual metre but consistent rhyme. Probably intentional, as she doesn’t do that normally. An effort to try to lighten her mood as they continued their rounds.

She gives the sprite an amused look before nodding her head, “Still a kindness of you.” She chuckles and continues on, “Funny, I had thought you to need a guardian of sorts, but it seems you are the one playing the part of one.”

“Just doing my part to make someone’s day better when and where I can, s’all,” Draza says, almost dismissive of the notion of her as a guardian. “It’s no different than delivering the cookies, or handing out toys, or convincing a misguided child with great power to not kill others and instead take a sweet.”

Rayvon snorts and shakes her head but decides to muse over the strange words of the fae. She sets to walking alongside the cart once more before inquiring, “Perhaps, but you ought find a protector, yet, Draza. Your outlooks on life and talents are something we would all suffer to lose.”

She smiled up at Rayvon, before turning back to the road, “Maybe someday, Lady Krayvitch. But for now… I’m content and safe with the castle. Perhaps on our next… quest? Mission? Whichever,” she rolls her eyes, “I’ll find someone who can keep me safe if my own skills do not.”

She nods, still unconvinced that the sprite had a long life ahead of herself with these notions. Well wishes and sweet words, as kindly as they may be, did not save one wishing to change things. For now, though, she could spare the time by to be vigilant over the sprite. Who knew, perhaps a stray hawk would see fit to whisk the poor sprite away thinking her a morsel. The paladin, with that thought, suddenly found herself watching the skies as they continued along their way for the day.

---

Intermission; Aëyr and Draza

---

Lying flat on the top of the garden wall, Aëyr calmly surveyed the sky above her. As the day’s lights faded, she closed her eyes and embraced the blissful silence that now permeated her surroundings. A cool breeze lightly rustled the flowers and herbs below, and she embraced its gentle trickle across her skin.

Draza was relaxed, but not in the same way as Aëyr. Perhaps content would be better, because she was certainly tired from trying to stable the mule on her own. She certainly could have asked for help, but she likes the hard work; reminds her of home. From her time at the stalls, she decided that she’d take a brief jaunt through the gardens. Stop, smell the roses and whatever else was in bloom. Moving through, she saw that unsurprisingly she wasn’t alone in enjoying the garden, although the companion atop the wall wasn’t enjoying it for the same reason as she. “What ho, friend! Enjoying our fair weather?” Draza called out, before wiping the sweat and grime from her brow.

If Aëyr had had ears, they would have perked up at the voice of the sprite. A familiar voice to her, and at least not one of the pesky servants and commoners of the city. Instead, she turned onto her side and gazed down at the diminutive figure. She remained there pensively for a moment, before swinging down off the wall and landing with a dull thud. “Yes, I was.” She kicked the dry dirt at her feet absent-mindedly. “Though I would much rather it rain.”

“For the sound, smell, or feel of it?” Draza asked, “I myself love the smell of the rain upon a field. There’s a word for that, but I forget what it is.” With a sigh, she moved closer and looked up respectfully at Aëyr, “How have things been treating you since Arian?”

“For the air. It feels dry.” She looked down at the sprite, and finding this improper, kneeled down to look at her more head on. “I am not one for cities. Silence and solitude are my homes, be they free in nature, or locked in cages.” She held out her hand in greetings. “I am Aëyr, and you are Draza, yes?”

“Aëyr…” she leaned forward expectantly for a last name, “Lady Aëyr…”

She raises a pudgy eyebrow. “I am no lady.”

“But you do have a surname, right?” Draza asked.

Aëyr stares at her blankly for a moment. “No, Aëyr is the only name I possess.”

“Oh,” Draza blinked. She was not necessarily familiar with such a thing. Normally those had at least one, if not several types of additional names, some earned, given, taken, or otherwise. But only a first? Well, she could still be respectful to that, “Well, I can still be respectful to you, Lady Aëyr. You may not be a lady, but you still deserve the respect of one. Specifically as a Blade.”

“I truly do not deserve the respect you offer. I have neither class nor legends to my name. I exist merely to serve others, to better their lives.” She looks away for a moment thinking, before turning back to the sprite. “Were you not headed somewhere? I might join you, if you’d wish it.”

“And one who makes the lives better for people doesn’t deserve respect? Would you say a mother and her babe raised on her bosom doesn’t deserve respect of a noble, despite her noble profession of raising the child?” Draza stops after a moment, “Erm, regardless, I was going somewhere. A meal in my belly would be pleasant, and company at the table more so.”

With a slight smile gracing her face, Aëyr rose to her feet and slapped her blubbery waist. “I can always do with some nourishment.” She motioned for Draza to climb up onto her back. “I could carry you, if you’d like. We’ll make it there faster.”

She shook her head, “You don’t need to offer me that kindness. We can walk and talk just fine. So long,” she added, “As you don’t mind the walk and talk.”

Aëyr shrugged. “I don’t mind.” She moved off towards the dining hall, being sure not to walk at too fast a pace for the sprite’s little legs to keep up, knowing that she herself often walked faster than the norm. “As I see it, the form of respect you show me marks me as significant. I, for one, prefer to not draw the attention of others.”

“Would you have preferred I have left you be? If my company bothers you I’m sure that your speed could make haste to solitude,” Draza commented. “But! If you do contend to stay at my side for the duration, then I uh, do hope my respect marks you significant? In a good way. Or. Something.” Draza huffed and rubbed her eyes, “Not staying up so late tonight…”

“No, no, I do not mind your company. I simply dislike the crowds.” After a couple steps of silence, she resumes. “Although, I would prefer you to simply call me Aëyr, for whatever it is worth.” As they walked, Aëyr lightly brushed her forearm with her fingertips, thinking back to times past. “If I may ask, do you have any family?”

“I do have them, back in Rheinfeld. They’re living pretty happy simple lives, as they’d want to,” Draza says a bit listlessly, “Hopefully they’ll have nice boring happy lives for a long time. What about you? Also, why the opposition to the honour I keep trying to throw your way?”

“I had a shoal-sister back in the Free Holds, but we were separated. I can only hope she is doing well. As for honour,” she added, “I have no need of it. I would prefer not to be idolized for my actions, whether they have merit or not. As I said, I am not one for crowds.”

“I’m not quite sure how the honour gets crowds, alas, if you prefer I not then I’ll drop your ladyship off. Would respect do? Thanks? I offer a variety of responses to behaviours. I’m like one of my snack trays,” Draza joked.

“It’s—never mind, it doesn’t matter. There is no need for you to alter yourself for me. I would just prefer to be treated as an equal.” As they arrived at the dining hall, Aëyr opened the door to allow Draza to pass. “There is no need for formalities, seeing as we shall be serving together against the creatures from below the earth-bed.”

Draza stifled a laugh, “Not doing something to make you feel like you’re a great maiden would be altering myself. I’ve gotten so used to speaking well of others, I don’t think I could do any different for you. It’s habit, but I assure you of its sincerity.” She sighed as they finally passed the kitchen on the way to the dining hall, where they would get their meal, or at least she would. “Didn’t we already serve against one, however L--” she caught herself, “… Friend Aëyr? Or literally just Aëyr?” Draza seemed to actually be struggling with this notion of no honorifics, “Meryl and possibly others at Arian. Not the same as what’s ahead, but a taste nonetheless.”

“Aëyr. Just Aëyr, please,” she restated somewhat curtly. “Meryl…” she added, with a softer tone once more, “was not evil. It is not the same. I hope we shall never have to—to—to slay one such as her. If I am not mistaken, that is why you have come along, yes? To prevent, rather than to beget, violence?”

“Part of it! I also am good at making others join up and work with us. Or, well, that’s the hope,” Draza said, “And no, she is not and was not. She’s not malicious, just… uninformed. But, she was still something along the lines of what we have ahead, even if a child, ignorant and weak compared to a single soldier of theirs. So she totally counts,” Draza said, with a bit of a yawn.

Noticing the tired state of her companion, Aëyr designated that they make their way quickly to the tables and nab some food. “I can only hope we’ll be up for the challenge. I myself am best at fleeing, not fighting.” Looking at the food before them, she served herself a large chunk of sheep’s meat and a sliver of bread, quick to add copious amounts of salt. “though I do, of course, have other talents, if need be.”

Draza’s meal was far smaller by comparison, some berries, meat, and actually no bread. She’d had enough of that stuff in the morning and earlier. Now was a time for delicious dinner, best stuff first. Dessert would be later, if at all. Plopping into her mouth half of a blackberry, Draza suckled it a bit before chomping through and eating more with relish. Tired relish, but still relish. Wiping her mouth of any stains, Draza turned up to Aëyr, “You were pretty good at fighting, your footwork and sling were both impressive. What other talents do you mean, Aëyr?”

Aëyr sighed, debating whether or not to tell the sprite of her time in the Free Holds. While she had learned to shut out the shame that had come with her slavery, she was still fully aware of how poorly such things might be received. To have one’s freedom taken can be a great burden, but there were other things taken far worse. “Sex, mostly.”

There were few who would count sex amongst their talents, three groups primarily. Braggarts, whores, and sex slaves, and it was clear which one was Aëyr. “Oh,” Draza said, not saying much else, “I didn’t know.” She was quiet for a bit before speaking up, “No offence, but I don’t think that talent will be much use for the Blades compared to your fleetness and fighting finesse. Fornication, pardon my language, isn’t a common tactic for fighting off legions of horror.”

“Neither is baking cookies,” she responded.

A fair rebuttal, leaving Draza quiet for a moment before she almost spoke up. But, she caught herself, and thought more, looking at her meal. Then, she spoke, “I suppose both could be used to win allies in the fight.”

“I’ll do whatever is needed of me. After all, compared to the thousands at risk, what is the loss of one selkie’s decency?” Taking a seat at the table, Aëyr began to devour her food. “I’m sorry, I was cruel,” she added, with a twinge of regret. “Not all memories are as easy to digest.”

“You were being honest, and fair. Neither of those is a cruelty,” Draza said, still standing with her bit of meat. She went through meals pretty fast due to the whole ‘size’ thing, and was practically done as it was. But, she still climbed into a spot near Aëyr. She didn’t say anything, just looked at the woman, and kept thinking of what she had said. She was glad to have someone willing to give so much as an ally now, after the worry of some of the others, but also didn’t like seeing one with what felt like so little to give to give so much. That was not as fair as her sentiments were. But, these were quiet musings, as Draza ate her bit of meat in uncharacteristic silence, a respect for the woman. At least, she hoped.

The silence continued for a little while, as Aëyr quickly made work of her food. When she had finished, she licked the salt off of her lips, and turned once more to her ally. “I do not know that I make the best of friends, but I am glad to have you alongside me in the Blades. Perhaps our rabble of a team may just be able to combat the tide of this coming corruption.” The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Though I admit I had been raised to swim with the tide, not against it.”

Draza shrugged, “Then we change the tides. We’ve banished gods, we can defeat the tide of corruption.” Though her words could be taken as pure bravado, she didn’t say it as much in a way that implied that. She was sincere enough in her saying it. She believed that victory would happen. “And, don’t fret. You’ll be a good friend of mine in no time.”

Rising from the table, Aëyr took her plate and held out her hand to take Draza’s, were she finished eating. “We shall see.” A pause. “I look forward to our next mission. Being cooped up here with so much freedom and so little to do leaves me somewhat sour. And yet you,” she commented, with a grin, “appear to be finding too much to do. Come, I think it time for you to rest. They will have need of us at our best potentials.”

Draza smiled sheepishly, “There’s always work to do, it may not always be world changing, but it’s there. And I was gonna,” she yawned, “Rest anyway. I promise.” She took the hand, grabbing the finger in her hands for a shake, knowing that’s probably not why it was offered at this point, but trying to bypass it. “I’m on my bed as soon as I’m done eating. Promise.”

Aëyr nodded. “I’ll see you at the ball, then. Sleep well.” With that, she returned her plate and left the dining hall, making her way out past the gardens and back into the city. Night had fallen, and she wanted to find somewhere to nap. Perhaps another nice wall would do.

Aslo and Maeven's Collaborative Effort

A whistle can be heard as Kira Flys over top of him. Aslo watches silently with a slight smile. Watching her graceful turn and gradual descent always brought him a great sort of serenity. Motionless he watched until he saw that she had found a pleasant place to perch. He began distancing himself from the Raven Inn, and towards where she had landed. When he approached he saw that she chose a comfy looking place atop the head of a mechanized dragon, and prayed it wasn't a lethal mistake.

Maeven was beneath Fafnir, replacing his fuel lines as the dragon shudders above her and one of his limbs already completed twitches. He fumbles from side to side, attempting to get at the falcon before giving up with a huff, "Thiefkin, remove this insufferable morsel from me at once. It is undignified," The mechanist woman, who had flattened herself to the ground to avoid being crushed beneath him shimmies out from behind him to get a look, furrowing her brow. "Aw, but its just a falcon, Faf. You look good as a pretty perch. Maybe I should just leave you as some sort of statue, afterall." The dragon huffs, flicking his head to the side and tries to get at the bird with a huff of steam, though he couldn't quite get at it. Maeven smirks and wipes off dirt from herself, looking at the approaching newcomer, "Is that your bird?"

Aslo's smirk grows to a full smile as the woman addresses him. "No, she's more of a partner than a pet I think. Though she sees fit to follow my lead often enough." A practiced whistle and Kira took flight from Fafnir's head and returned to Aslo's shoulder. From her ankle he retrieved a small note of paper, and tucked it away in a pocket before proceeding. "Still she is a free spirit at times it would seem. Not many would dare such an act."

She blinks, looking over the creature curiously before smiling, "Sounds a little like Faf." An irritated grinding of metal comes from behind her at the comparison between him and the pigeon. Maeven chuckles and shakes her head, "What was with the note? Is it anything important?"

He shrugs at the question causing Kira a slight aggravation while she maintains her place "At some point it may very well be of great importance. For now it is paper in my pocket. It would be rude to read it, and neglect your company!" He gave a slight bow after this statement. "My name is Aslo, and if what I've heard is true you must be Maeven Lucre, no?"

Maeven smirks and nods, "True enough. Am I famous already?" She smiles as she begins putting two and two together, "You must be one of the Queens' Blades as well. I suppose we'll be working together quite a bit in the future, then?"

He nods in return as she correctly labels him a Blade "Famous? I'm unsure of this. I'm a collector of information you see, and information apropos a woman that travels with a mechanized dragon is neither common or non-descript. The larger things are the more men will see and recall!" He pauses a bit, realizing his habit of rambling had surfaced "But yes, it would seem we are to be colleagues, hopefully for some years to come."

Maeven furrows her brow, "Years? You really think this might take years? They never say that in the story books..." She crooks her head at Aslo, "So were you seeking me out to ask something? Or just a pleasant surprise?" Admittedly, she was a little nervous about how much he might know of her past. New beginnings could be brought to a shuddering halt far too quickly if certain information was to surface. He didn't mean to extort her, right?

"I prefer to think I'll survive in a conflict like this for a century rather than die in a matter of days. A personal choice I suppose, but then I've never been a fan of heroes, legends, and fairy tales." he brushed a shed feather from his shoulder before addressing Maeven again. "I should say that it was Kira who chose for me to come over here, but it has since become a very pleasant surprise."

She nods, looking back at her dragon, "I suppose. And I could use this break. All I've done since the attack has work on Faf. He took a real number in the battle." She wrinkles her nose, turning her attention back, "I could use the break. He's not really great company... Since you're a collector of information, do you know of any good places to eat here?"

"You do all the work on him yourself do you?" He clapped his hands together lightly, of course he had already deduced that, but it was still a feat worthy of applaud. He proceeded to place his hands slightly on his hips as he decided where they might be able to go. "Well I just came from the Raven's Inn. We rescued the establishment from James. What had you been involved with?"

"I do... and... Well, as odd as it might sound, we played a game with a child of Sloth... Which was apparently won through the power of cupcakes." She laughs and shrugs, "I think we might have gotten the easy side of things. From what I understand, there was a lot more risk in the rest of the Blades' campaigns. It was fun, though, and the girl is... odd, but sweet."

He laughs with her "Well I suppose the important thing is that we have succeeded in keeping them safe?"

With a large grin she nods, "I suppose so. Of course, it does leave me wondering how well we'll fare on our next assignments. I don't think sugar and spice will win the day next time."

“Having seen some of the company we keep, I should think the alternatives to sugar and spice are well handled." He thought back briefly to Griff and Murderok and their less than tactful mannerisms, but also how required beings like that could be.

She raises a brow, "Well, that sounds promising." She stretches before patting her sidearm, "I just hope they leave me chances to work the kinks out of my projects, at least. Can't let them have all the fun."

He began walking back towards the Inn motioning for her to join him. "Perhaps we can discuss your projects over some kind of meal!" Noticing her sidearm he added "With something like that at your side I'm sure you're bound to have plenty of fun."

She nods, "Sure, but I've had this one for awhile now. I want to keep making new things, but it all takes time and money. Drafting, design, construction, then test runs." She follows in his stead, hopping from spot to spot, trying to keep from touching the breaks in the stone steps. "There's only so much one woman can do, and I don't really have use for all my ideas, either." Her eyes drift to his belt and the vials she could glimpse from it, "Those bottles, are they a hobby or just a tool of the trade?"

He watches as she hops along, his curiosity piqued, but not so far as to ask. "I suppose you could say they are a bit of both. They do have their uses in my line of work, as do fresh ideas for that matter..." he began to think for a moment as they moved along. Him casually pacing forward, hands behind his back, and her hopping from stone to stone.

She stops, balancing on one foot as she glances at Aslo, "Maybe I could provide some fresh ideas. I always felt I had my biggest breaks when I had someone to sound ideas out to." She beams, straightening herself out, "I admit, not very crafty with chemicals, but run the basic information by me and I bet I can think of something..." She pauses, a thought coming to her, "Actually, I might need your brain for a future project with Faf. If you know anything that could do the trick, it needs to be combustible."

"I should be able to think of something suitable to your needs, given some time to think of course. In the meantime, funding for projects shouldn't be too much of an issue." He glanced towards her with a knowing sort of smile, and tapped the breast pocket where he had stashed the note "Information always pays eventually."

For a moment, her careless expression disappears, replaced with something far more serious, "I'm sure it does..." She places both feet on the ground, "I imagine you'd make a fortune in another line of work. Why join the Blades? It can't be the job security, or the safety..."

He stops along with her and gives a sleight shrug. "I imagine I could make a King's ransom- or should I say a Queen's?" He smiles slyly at his own joke before sighing "But then what good is a fortune and safety if the world is ash and rubble?"

"Its why you spend it before, so you have what you need to pick up the pieces, I imagine." She looks over Aslo, curiouser by each passing moment, "Never would have slated you as the sort to play hero, though. Dashing enough for it, I suppose. No, you simply don't have me convinced."

He laughed "The fact is money truly means very little to me, I'm more interested in seeing things put right but what's a man to do? Perhaps with time you'll come around to the thought of me as a hero."

She rolls her eyes, "Suppose we'll be hearing the bards sing praise to the mighty Aslo, next thing I know. I hope the infamy just doesn't get to your head. You're a pleasant person to be about as you are."

He shakes his head "No I should think not. While I respect the bard for the work he does, and their willingness to share, it wouldn't do to have them praising my name."

Maeven quirks a brow. "So my hero is humble, then. Or is he simply a charming rogue. I can't wait to see how the story unfolds," she rests her hand on the door to the inn, "Would you like to keep talking over lunch?"

"I suppose really only time will tell." Opening the door and holding it he allows her to enter first "How dashing would I be if I no longer spoke to mi'lady?"

A faint smile of amusement passes over her lips as she brushes past him, "I never thought I'd meet such a gentleman." She looks at the inn, surprised that this place had not so long ago been one of the locations of an attack, not when it looked so quaint and well-kept. "You sure no one else demands your attention? As much as I'd rather keep you all to myself right now, I wouldn't want to keep you from any duties you might hold."

A wolfish grin overcame him as he followed her in. He recognized the cat now trotting hapily about the Inn, oblivious to the threat it had been so shortly ago. He rolled his eyes a bit, letting a hint of sarcasm take to his words "My sole duties are to Queen and country, and I've been ordered to attend a ball."

She smiles, the idea of a ball a terribly enticing one, "Well, wine, women, song, it surely won't be too bad for you. Of course, if you're into that sort of thing. Otherwise, I'm sure there's plenty of word to go around. Only the whole world is supposed to be there... Or at least many of the 'important' people it has to offer."

He pulls out a chair and offers her a seat "Such luxuries are not things I indulge in often, but it does raise a golden opportunity for important contacts. That much you have correct."

She takes the seat offered and gestures for Aslo to sit across from her. If he was not after the money, then perhaps he desired power. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and her head upon her hands, "Well, then we have our Queens to thank for such a chance to meet and mingle, then. I can't help but think its meant to serve another purpose, though... An exciting mystery we're in the midst of, I would think. But, perhaps I'm too cynical. Perhaps they really thought to simply honour us."

He bows slightly and makes a gesture of thanks in her direction "I should think we have lots to thank to our Queens don't we! Perhaps it's to put us on display, a show of force or influence perhaps? I wouldn't call it a cynical mind that doubts a ball in our honour in the nation's capital."

Maeven nods, quickly placing an request with one of the workers making there way through the crowds. "True... I just can't help but think it must be a little... embarassing. I've heard some were already lost. Then there were groups like mine who simply lucked out to be facing a child... We can't be too impressive a unit, not when the Queens themselves are legends themselves.. and much of their entourage is with them, as well." She shakes her head, "It makes no sense to me. But here I am, getting carried away."

Aslo passes at the offer of mead, and leans back in his chair resting one arm across the back of it, and the other upon the table. Raising it with a confused look on his face "Then perhaps it's a desperate plea to make use of us!" He laughed "Perhaps you are being carried away... you will have to try and just enjoy the night for whatever it is?"

"As long as we are not paraded out as the new playthings of some nobles, then perhaps," she thanks the maid who brings her a glass of coffee and a bit of creme. "But the games of nobles and royalty just aren't for me. That, I decided some time ago."

"A wise decision for anyone to live by for sure." Kira proceeded to leap from her place on his shoulder to poke around the table. Specifically interested in the creme that had been brought over. Aslo simply sat content and watched. "Since you saw to ask me why I was here, I feel I should do the same. So? Fame? Riches?"

She tips the thing of creme into her coffee before setting it back for Kira. "A change of scenery, for the most part. To see the world and what it has to offer for the rest." She picks up a spoon, stirring carefully as she muses over it, "After all, this entire kingdom is steeped in living legends and tied to many more. Things some would have dismissed as house wives' tales in some parts of the world. Something interesting... Is always welcome into my life." She smiles, giving a faint shrug, "After all, what else would interest a woman who sees fit to keep company with dragons, hmm?"

Aslo nodded his head slowly as she spoke "I suppose I should have expected nothing less." He puts on a pout and taps his knuckles off the table "I am disappointed to report that I am entirely convinced however. It should seem I'll gather no ripe information from your motivation of being here."

She offers a faint smile, "Perhaps not. It's a shame, but not all of us can be so complex." She drinks deeply from her glass with a delighted noise before murmuring over the rim, "But keep looking, I hope you'll find something about myself that intrigues you." She offers a wink.

He looked at Maeven full on, his lips coming to form a toothless smile, and his hands both coming to clasp on the table "With enough digging, I'm sure even this table has an interesting history to hear. I have no doubt that you are far more intriguing than you let on, and I fully intend to unearth that story." He returns to his relaxed posture once more as Maeven continues to sip her beverage, Perhaps he thought Working as a blade will be better than I had hoped.

Intermission; Andrea and Draza

---

Two days prior, the evening after her agreement with Alicia and the lawyering she had to do to make it stick, Draza rubbed her eyes after putting on her night gown, the few candles in her room giving it light in the early night that had fallen after her time with contractual obligations. Hopefully tomorrow would be good and fun, and the time would fly until her dress was done. With little left for her to do but sleep, she moved to blow out the first candle, until she heard a knock upon her door. “Oh tiddlies,” she muttered to herself, “I’m coming.”

Andrea frowned and looked at the scene, she was still uncomfortable with these things… she placed a hand on the surface of the door. This was wood, something of an oddity in the Underdark, some Drow nobles bought it as a matter of prestige and show off their wealth to be able to gain such treasures from the world above. Ah well, when she heard the voice of the occupant answer her she waited, making sure to soothe the snakehead of her whip to not eat her, thinking it might be a mouse, assuming the tales of her size are true.

Draza’s room was normal person sized, despite her own size. Sure, there were accommodations for her to use the door, and furniture and stuff, but it was otherwise originally intended for a full sized person, making most of it unused at the moment. She put her hand on the trigger of the device to open the door, but did not yet open it, “Who may I say is welcome into my room at this hour?”

“Andrea, Priestess of Lollth and fellow Queensblade. We have not yet met in person.” She responded curtly, expecting the door to open.

“Lady Andrea,” Draza paused, lacking a surname, “Well, Lady Andrea, what may I ask are you doing here? I’m all but in my bed covers for sleep.”

“A matter of… well a request really, there is a grand ball approaching and I admit, I do not know how such things are done on the surface, my guard and servant Ceann, knows much of the surface but nothing of how to interact with the surface nobility and royalty, but we gathered you are a… diplomat, yes?”

Draza was a bit curious about the request, “You want… tutoring on courtly behaviours from me because I’ve had time in the courts as a diplomat amongst other things?” Well, that was certainly a first. But she was truly flattered with the request, and while tired, she was awake enough to humour the request for now and set up a proper session at another, more quickened time. “I’m not sure if I can do a long lesson now, but if you want basics… I can probably tell you enough to not embarrass yourself. Or at least enough to not make enemies.”

That said, Draza triggered the device of the door, and with the grinding of small and larger gears, the apparatus opened it and welcomed the priestess in. Draza gave a curtsy, “Your holiness is welcome into my home, however meagre and temporary it may be.”

Now able to see her she saw the tales were true, how pitiful to ask the assistance of a lesser creature but she would be damned to ask that heretic drow for assistance. “Now there is no door in the way, allow me to introduce myself properly.” She bowed, “Andrea, my… gratitude for seeing me, even if it is late. The darkness that night brings gives me more comfort so I am more active at this time.”

“I understand completely. May I offer you something to eat, or drink? I do not have much of either on me, but what I have is yours if you wish it,” Draza offered, before catching herself, “Oh where are my manners, how am I to teach you if I cannot even present myself despite my nightly dress.” Draza scurried to the side, gesturing her fullest invitation before curtsying again, “I’m Draza Zorya, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintanceship. I am honoured by your visit and to be a member of the same group graced by yourself. If you will find it do more honour for you, I will make haste to dress myself more presentably for you,” she said, gesturing to her gown before skittering off to close the door behind the priestess.

She let out a dry chuckle, “No need, I realise that this hour is somewhat late, but I do appreciate you offer of help and understand if you wish for more… formal lessons to be undertaken in the light of day. But right now you can perhaps give me some basic understanding, for example.” She grimaced and narrowed her eyes, “Are we expected to bow down before these… foreign dignitaries that come here? Do they make us fetch drinks or something similar?”

Draza blinked up at Andrea, “No, they won’t want us to ‘bow down’, but a polite bow or curtsy as a sign of respect is always appreciated… well, not always, but generally speaking,” she pinched the bridge of her nose as she remembered some of the more aggressive surface cultures she had to deal with that wanted her to slay something ‘grand’ before they talked. “And you of course won’t have to serve them drinks, you’re not… making yourself lower than them,” Draza thought about how it’d work exactly, “You’re making them higher, and there’s a difference. A servant would bow and kiss the ground before them before fetching their drink, but you would do neither such thing.”

She raised a brow, “I see… I miss the Underdark, so much easier, show reverence to the matron mother of your house and ignore the others.” That or kill them, without witnesses of course, but she did not say that out loud. “Am I correct however that this ball… is mainly for the queens to show us off to these visitors?”

“Show us off, try to convince them that ‘saving all life from the armies of doomy death doom’ is a team effort, stuff like that,” Draza nodded. “If we do more lessons after tonight, I must ask you of your culture. I would love to learn more, and you would be doing me a great favour in doing so. Enough that I wouldn’t dream of asking for anything else for the lessons. Learning for learning, lessons for lessons. Does that sound fair to you?”

She cocked her head, considering it and then slowly nodded. “I suppose I could teach you some, but the culture of the Drow… is from what I gather from my servant rather… chaotic compared to some of the surface realms.” She snorts, “I have no idea what she means but perhaps it is, but back to the matter at hand, yes I find that a acceptable agreement.”

“Marvellous,” Draza said, having already procured a parchment and quill with ink by a small table near one of her candles, “I’ll begin writing up the agreement immediately.” Her fingers quickly began to scritch and scratch across, dipping the quill back into the ink before continuing on again, “Now, refrain from things with these dignitaries, like… don’t insult them unless you’re particularly clever and they insult you first,” she stops before adding, “And if they were clever about it. Some banter could be nice if the wit is sharp enough, and earn you respect for it. If they’re otherwise being polite then do not engage them in such a way, meet sharp wit with respectable sharp wit, and kindness with polite kindness.”

Andrea blinked, “What? Wait… write this down? What are you doing.” She looked suspiciously from Draza to the piece of paper she was scribbling on.

“Written things are… a standard that I picked up from the courtly circles. If you want to have more security in an agreement, you wrote it down. Now, I write most every long term agreement upon something,” Draza explained. “It’s also good for helping to remember things! If you go, ‘oop, I forgot’ and you have it written down, it’s great.”

She frowned, “I see… I would prefer not to, the ball is soon so there is no long term teaching you could give me and, while I do manage to have some understanding of your script it is still difficult to me and I have no idea what you intend to write down.”

Draza stopped in her tracks, “Oh,” she set down the quill, “I… yeah,” she mutters. She begins to put the stuff back away, “I do apologize, it’s become habit. For the duration of our arrangement, verbal should be fine. I don’t believe either of us will forget our culture or the exchange of it so quickly,” she laughs nervously, and stops making noise for a bit once more. Finally having put things away, she turns back to Andrea, “So, what would you like to know more about?”

The next hour or so Draza informed Andrea somewhat of what to expect at the grand ball and even a few shocking tidbits, but it was late, for Draza anyway and as Andrea left after making an appointment on the aftermorrow for more lessons she turned back, confusion still on her face. “This… this is just… there will be, under no circumstances, at any governmental function, at least here in Renalta… no orgy afterwards?” She shook her head. “You surfacers… where in the hells do you get your fun?”

Draza looked a combination between flabbergasted, tired, and mystified, “Not with…” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “We’ll talk more about the time and place of surface sex at another lesson,” she said. Drow culture was weird and something that some of her more risqué friends would say they’d love but then wouldn’t be able to deal. At least she was honest up front with her incapability of dealing up front… right? Regardless, she wished the priestess… she was a priestess. That was such a weird thought in the back of her mind considering the religious she was familiar with, and her own faith… but she opened the door for her, and bade her good night; hoping to Lada that she’d not have dreams she couldn’t handle.

Child, The Ether pre-resurrection-
--
Child was never a magician of any great sort. Her or his talents were not so much conscious efforts as they were terribly forced upon etheral fuckery and poorly managed spiritual links into a broken, fractured mind. She was a shoddy piece of work, a experiment to contact gods that were gone and unreachable. A open invitation to all sorts of magical spirits and creatures. IT was in short, shot to hell inside her head, a vortex of voices cursing her existence.. And here she was, drifting among the realm that wasn't, yet was. A manifestation of magic and souls, of the lost. A place where words held no meaning, yet defined you. A place so strange her words were seemingly plucked from her mouth and given meanings she didn't understand whenever she contemplated it for more then a second. She was not in control but it was strangely nostalgic for the spirit medium. She had dragged minds from here before, she was pretty sure. Yet now she was one of those spirits. A wandering lost soul adrift on a strange sea. The irony was not lost on her and she would have laughed If her etheral form wasn't screaming in pain from the effort of staying coherent.

Her end had been quick, merciful. She could of course, only remember fractions of it. That was usually the case when someone got crushed by a war hammer. Her moves had been slow back there, she had hesitated. She had been sloppy. Perhaps she had wanted it? Wanted to die? Such questions was dangerous in a place like this. She could already feel her soul try and split itself into smaller parts, convert into etherical energy. She composed herself and crawled up. Her knees pulled up to her chest, as she floated. She was dead, but she wanted to take in this strange stillness she felt before she was ready to get eaten by the ether. IT was during this moment that something impossibly bright manifested near her. Shielding her eyes in a vain attempt to look at the creature, she was in front a angel. The light was like the sun, yet she felt no heat. And yet, she felt as if she should have been burned from it none the less.

“Ironic. I find peace and here you are. The gods chosen. Have you come to laugh at me, I who was made in attempt to reach the gods. Yet all I became was another notch in the belt for some brute?” Her sords held no real rancor, just a modicum of spite that she resigned to anything not Herself. She breathed slowly, eyeing the angel wearily.

"No. I've come to spare you. To give you a second chance, as your comrades need you." The angels voice played with her mind, it was so pure, so impossibly clean of intent. She didn't trust it for a second.

“Second chance?” Child, void of her mask here in the ether, had a confused look upon her marred face. She contemplated this for a second or two. This second chance that was given her, could she accept it in good faith. Did she deserve it? And nothing was without a price. “And what is the price?” She said, weary of the Angels true motives.

"Your life is connected to mine." The angel spoke to her and she nodded. Another voice in her head it seemed, another great power tugging at her. She wanted to live, she realized this with staggering intensity and desire growing where her heart should be. Her ethereal body screaming for her to take the deal.

“Deal” She spoke and then there was a flash of light.

Intermission - Infirmary - Child

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, painfully. Her body felt strange. The collapse lunge was no longer collapsed, but breathing was strange to her now. The time in ether had made for her to have to remember how to breathe at first. Shallow breaths as she realized she was without her mask, in the flesh and alive. The first feeling was relief at being back alive. The second was panic over not having her mask. She sat up suddenly. Her nostrils flared, her eyes wide.

“THE MASK. WHERE IS THE MASK!” Her panic was interrupted by a coughing fit of the likes she never had before. She felt her eyes water and she looked around at the surpised looking healers that had tended to her. Likely there to make sure she was stable, angel or no angel.

“Get.. me.. a mask.. any.. mask.” She said, covering her face in her hands. The voices began to taunt her, sing songs of mockery in her mind. Tear at her sanity. Of course, there was no mask to be found, she she was reduced to holding her face in her hands and scream until someone provided her with her mask. It was blemished, likely from falling onto the ground at the time of her death. But as soon as she put it on, she calmed down. Her eyes were still wide.

“Where.. Am I..."

Collaborative: Andrea & Brovo

---

((Totally optional fluff, meant for the old guard. Collaborative between Andrea and Brovo.))

The ball room was quiet. It was still a couple hours ahead of when even the Imperium was supposed to arrive, and for the first time in days, the room had naught one sign of human life save that of Mikan who was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed. Tapping her foot on the floor, she looks up at the ceiling and hums quietly to herself. "They're late..." She mutters softly. They had been sent to check around the floors above the ball room, to make sure that there were no 'secret holes' or other such nonsensical things... And they were late to come back. So this means they either found something, or started messing around... No, not the latter. She would have felt it.

A hand softly brushed over Mikan's shoulder to her chin and turned her head gently around. "We are never late." Salinï said with a smirk. "We arrive precisely when we want to." She added as Jamiahl appeared from the other side holding something odd in her hands, a plushie, bearing a likeness to queen Alex. "We found that, at first we thought you might like it." She smiled and then frowned. "But..."

Jamiahl held it up and gestured to a set of needle stitches at the back. "Faint magic aura, someone cut it open and put something inside."

Salinï nodded, "Figured some of the pet mages might want to check it out if it's something, or just harmless."

Mikan shudders to the touch, the edges of her lips tilt upwards as her breath catches in her throat. Even after years of time with them, it was hard to stay in control. "Gosh... I feel like I'm ten years younger with you two around." Giggling, she sighs and happily pushes herself against Salinï, back facing her while she looked at Jamiahl and the Alex doll. "... Here, let me have a look at that." She reaches out with one hand, motioning for Jamiahl to come closer.

Smiling she got closer and then frowned, looking at Mikan for a long while, she had always been the more observant of her sisters. She reached out with a hand, gently tracing over Mikan's cheek. "You have the shakes again, don't you?" She asked, not accusingly or unkindly.

Mikan nods, and looks down at the stone floor. There were so many beautiful decorations about, and yet, her mind was flooded with other things, that made it hard to see such beauty. Grasping Salinï's hand gently, she takes a deep breath. "I know why... I've been having these shakes... Especially now..."

Salinï squeezes Mikan's hand in her own and nods slowly. "It has been a while... hasn't..." She smiled, frowning at the concerned look of Jamiahl.

"... Mm..." Mikan looks up to Jamiahl and motions her closer again, a small if somewhat bitter smile on her lips. "Please, don't stand so far from me... Not for this..."

Jamiahl sighs and shook her head, approaching closer, "You know I get concerned when you have your shakes." She says softly but hugs close.

"I know... And there's something you need to know, that you likely weren't told... When you became, well... What you are now." Another giggle leaves her lips as she happily settles into their warm embrace, almost like a lost lamb. She felt like she belonged there, which was different than how she usually felt. "So... I asked Amanda for a favour, and got texts about demons, and their various magics and tools..." She looks between their two faces, looking almost fearful. The connection they shared would let them know she was nervous, and didn't want to upset them.

Salinï let out a snort and kisses Mikan's cheek, "Whatever you have to tell us, don't worry little bird." She smirks, "Worst we can do is tie you to the bed again to torture you with whips... and our tails... and the flogger... wait not the flogger, apparently last time we woke up the entire inn and they thought we were killing someone." She smirked still and let out a chuckle when Jamiahl rolled her eyes.

Jamiahl kissed Mikan's other cheek, "Tell us."

"... Well..." She swallows back nervousness, her lips quivering a little. "... The point of enthrallment... For succubi... Was to make someone more willing to succumb to their needs, again and again... But, it is also to... Prime them..." She looks up into Jamiahl's eyes. "To become one of them, or to become some other kind of demon... It's been years of this, and with the nine hells invading..." Her hands start to shake a little, even thinking about the consequences was both enthralling and terrifying. "... I'm more vulnerable than ever..."

Both sisters looked at each other over Mikan's head, Jamiahl frowning in thought while Salinï let a curse slip from her lips. "Well.... guess being born a halfbreed does tend to skip the regular orientation speech about how it works for a succubi..." She offered a weak smile.

Jamiahl let out a snort, "So it would seem." She cupped Mikan's chin and looked into her eyes, her look one of concern for a loved one, in this case Mikan. "Did these texts mention anything about to negate these effects? Besides our alchemic concoction?"

Mikan shakes her head. "Nothing, really... Useful..." She clenches her hands into fists, and the shaking stops, at least, momentarily. "... Apparently, some very old magics can do it, but... Amanda admits they're incomplete, she would need more information, from the nine hells, or any evil artifacts, and those don't exactly... Drop out of the sky." Mikan's feelings could be felt by the both of them, their connection with one another was especially strong lately. For better, or for worse... Though Mikan felt a mixture of excitement and uncertainty, she felt comforted by their presence. "Right now, I just... Have to stay in one piece... And you two can help me... Like you did before."

Jamiahl nods slowly, "We can do that... or we should just find a way to lose our powers, the demon taint." Salinï looked up sharply at that and Jamiahl glared at her, "It should be a option." She then smiled and kisses Mikan softly. "But for now... let's help you from the shakes... and afterwords... I think one of us needs to stay close to you at all times."

"For the ball... I was thinking to keep you both in the ball room, here." Quietly Mikan motions to both sides of the throne, only a few feet away. "If anyone causes trouble, a pair of succubi leaping to the aid of the Queens would be... Quite a sight." Biting her bottom lip she looks at them both. "We won't have much time for fun..." She pouts, then looks to a nearby hall. "Just a couple doors to a storage room... And after we've had our fun, and the ball is over... We can talk about what we can do. Either way..." Closing her eyes she melts into Salinï's embrace, she wanted to be carried to the room. "... I love you... Both of you. And no matter what happens, I wanted you to know that... You are irreplaceable, and whether you give up your taint or I join you both in it, we will stick together."

Salinï purred and kissed Mikan deeply, only letting go because Jamiahl leaned in to kiss their favourite green haired scoundrel herself. "We love you little bird, if sacrificing our pwoers will mean you will have better life with us... I'd happily do so.... I will miss the things we can do with our tails though..." She smirked and winked.

Jamiahl snorted and rolled her eyes but was smiling... then got a thoughtful look on her face and looked at the empty ballroom... and the throne.

Salinï noticed and smirked, "Hmm... Mikan, do you think we should make a... thorough check of that... very comfortable looking throne? Instead of going to the storage room..."

The sly grin that reached Mikan's lips could only be described as devilish and sweet, as she runs a finger across Salinï's lips, and Jamiahl's lips. "Mm... We -do- have this room to ourselves for a few more minutes... And I always wanted to be a little princess~" She twirls playfully between them, slipping from Salinï to Jamiahl. "... If it's on the throne, then I make only one request." She leans and whispers in Jamiahl's ear. "...Barbed."

Soon after, maids thoroughly scrubbed and cleaned both thrones before the ball started. They were, most probably, by and far, the cleanest objects in the entire metropolis after they were done.

---

The Imperium: Introduction

---

Arriving significantly ahead of schedule, an entire legion of Imperium soldiers arrived at the capital city. Moving in a marching ordered formation, rigid and near perfect, they did not so much as look at the surrounding populace, who lined the city’s streets to stare in awe. At the front of the legion were those known as the immortal brigade: Soldiers who had ten thousand years of battle hardened experience. In every conceivable way they were perfect soldiers, and yet, while the younger parts of the legion that followed them displayed pride, this motley group of men and women (though mostly men) did not. In fact, they displayed little emotion whatsoever. Even when children attempted to goad them on into smiling, offering gifts, or asking questions, the immortal brigade remained solemn and silent.

At the very front of it all was Florence Merryweather on horseback, who was the lead general of the reassembled Imperium. Beside him was a rather unsettling looking woman, with long silvery hair and pale skin. Shorter than him, but commanding a greater presence as a couple members of the Imperium’s senate followed behind her. Prattling on about this issue or that idea, Florence rolled his eyes. He had little patience for politicians. Most solutions were far simpler than they ever allowed them to be. Finally, however, and with a beleaguered sigh, he offered the politicians some answers.

”Senators, the river separating our ancient lands from our new home will be held. We hold the bridges and can sabotage them at any time--” One of the senators, an older gentleman, interrupts him. ”--And that, is what you said about the West Hold Colonia. Something which you were obviously wrong about. What is the harm in asking the Mage’s Guild for help?” Florence glares at the senator. ”In case you forgot your history, the entire reason the Imperium fell is because of the Mage’s Guild.” The senator glares back, apparently unimpressed with the general’s attempt to intimidate him. ”Propaganda, history clearly shows that both sides were to blame.” Florence shakes his head. ”I was there. I saw it for myself. We cannot trust these people.”

”You both know that debating politics here is fruitless. Nothing said here will change the fact that we were summoned by our allies.” A ghostly--but feminine--voice rang out loudly enough that even the small crowds could hear it, and were both mesmerized and scared by it. The pale woman looks around at the peasants, her expression unchanged, and her lips did not move, but again, the words came. ”Worry not. I am the Empress of the Imperium. The guardian of the dream that is empire. You are our allies, and I will protect you as I protect my own people.” The crowds seemed to be soothed by that, and returned to being in a curious state.

Florence glances at Maurie, and though his expression remained as tough as the iron the gladius at his waist was made out of, his shoulders dropped a little, tension leaving him as his tone softened, if only but a little. ”Of course... Well done... Maurie.” There was a bit of awkwardness from him, uttering her first name and not calling her Empress. He almost seemed conflicted between protocol and personal expression. ”... Though curious you would not see them as your people.” Maurie looks back to him. ”They are not.” The voice came again, though this time quieter, keeping the conversation amongst themselves. ”... Yet, they are. All men, regardless of race or creed, came from the bosom of the empire... These are all our people. I agree that we owe them our protection, however... I worry, sometimes. About you. About the dream. We have a long task ahead of us, but now, we age, like any mortal man... I also worry... About your...” He motions to her form.

”I know.” Maurie says, the tone taking an almost motherly tone to it as she tried to ease his concerns. ”Most know that this form is not my true one.” Florence shakes his head and mutters quietly to himself. ”No, that you can even twist the physical form like that...” Maurie looks at him, as expressionless as before. ”Magic is not evil.” Florence looks back to her, his cold, militaristic expression back. ”No, but it enables one woman to destroy millions... It is an element as wild as fire, but far, far more dangerous... It is the greatest enemy of the noblest dream we once had firmly in our grasp.” He then looks forward, towards the entrance of the keep. ”... Though I cannot deny its invaluable power on this modern battlefield.”

Finally, they arrive to the front doors of the keep. Florence dismounts and looks back at the soldiers following him. ”DISPERSE AND...” He hesitates for a moment. ”... RELAX! TRY TO RELAX!” All but the personal guards attempt this, with the younger members of the legion having a far easier time of ‘relaxing’ than the immortal brigade, which looked about as out of place as it could possible be as they moved about together, still keeping a rough rectangle formation to them.

”How strange.” Commented the older senator from earlier. ”When you try to remain sane for ten thousand years, you cling to whatever is familiar... And it is hard to let go.” The senator blinks, not truly able to comprehend what that meant. Maurie approached the guards. ”Huh, we weren’t expecting you for another hour or so... Ma’am?” The guards say, confused by her appearance. She wasn’t undead, or was she? They couldn’t tell. Florence walks over and looks at them. ”Can you perhaps try to be a little more respectful towards my wife?” The guards appeared even more surprised as Maurie’s voice echoes through the area, as unearthly as it was before. ”We are here to answer Queen Kouri’s call. Seeing as how we have formal treaties with this kingdom, we decided it was appropriate to arrive ahead of schedule...” She then glances at the doors as they open. Mikan stares back.

”Uh... Welcome to Renalta.” Mikan says as she clears her throat awkwardly. ”I am the spymaster, and uh... Well... You’re early and, well--” Two cloaked figures quickly slip past Mikan, each splitting up to investigate the castle grounds. Florence glared at one as he spotted a tail flick in Mikan’s direction before it slid back underneath its cloak. Mikan blushes scarlet. ”...Justcomerightoninsidethequeenswillbeinshortly~” She says as she bows, allowing them inside the ball room.

As they entered the ball room, they would find maids cleaning the thrones, with a dismayed looking queen Kouri, sitting on the floor with her head in the palms of her hands. ”Well, it wasn’t that bad.” A tall, drow vampire commented with a small grin. ”I will never unsee that.” Kouri replies, as she slowly gets onto her feet at the sounds of the approaching people. Spotting Maurie, she immediately smiles warmly. ”Maurie! It has been months since I have last had the chance to see you.” Maurie’s face remained as expressionless as before. ”The battle front against the Free Holds is a rough one.” Florence interjects. ”Nothing more than mild setbacks.”

He then looks at Kouri bows his head, humbly. ”My lady, have you considered my proposal?” The drow once again speaks, his amused tone not leaving him. ”We have, and we’re no men to spare for your armies, nor would we agree to to your legal conscription.” Florence raises an eyebrow. ”And you must be Hanus Wolfblood. The general with a living blade.” Hanus pats the handle of his two handed claymore tenderly. ”Of course.”

”Are you two quite done posturing?” Maurie comments as Kouri chuckles. ”Men.” She says as she looks at Maurie. ”We’ve got a while before the Rheinfeld envoy arrives. Come, lets talk about politics.” Maurie nods. ”Now is a good time.”

With that stated, the two spoke together as the Imperium’s men and Renaltan soldiers intermingled, though they readied themselves for Rheinfeld’s arrival, one could see the close friendship that Renalta’s people and Imperium’s men share with one another.

---

Rheinfeld: Introduction

---

((Collaborative work between Tempest and Brovo.

The Rheinfelders arrived to the city of Renalta in what could only be described as an inquisitional force, and yet, they held no bars on decorative arrangement: Golden armour, heavenly helmets, noblemen's banners, and more could blatantly be seen. Even the horses were decorated with roses, or blades, or other such markings of one nobleman's house or another. At least a thousand men rode in, some being Crusaders with their Templar tutors keeping them on a close leash, and others being part of the Rheinfeld Republic. It was clear who was who: The Crusaders and Templar all wore at least some plate mail, and decorative symbols of their household, if they had any to display at all. The Republic members all wore a mixture of chain mail and wool, carrying a blue emblem with them. There was no sign of the Papacy, who had also received an invitation, but wasn't expected to come anyway, as they had denounced the kingdom as being nothing more than, quote... "A bunch of upstart peasants following an overly energetic corpse queen and her bitch lover." What a lovely human being.

Riding at the front was the leader of the Templar Order, Taigyn, and his second in command, Davian. Beside them rode one of the only Republican members in full plate mail, an ex-Templar, and notable enough, a black woman. She had remained silent the whole journey, and very cold towards the Templar. Davian looked at her with an equal level of coldness. His pale skin and blonde hair gave away his native heritage, and the way he stood, shoulders high, chin up, one could almost think he was being held up purely by his ego alone. Even if he was only second in command... He was rather handsome, though, with his blue eyes. "Taigyn, the palace is ahead. I suggest we allow our men to cavort with the local citizenry, it has been a long and perilous journey, and they deserve rest."

Taigyn looks on, the first time in a long while he had laid eyes upon Renalta since returning back from Cradle with the Queens to be. The capital had grown immensely since a time when nothing of a kingdom could even be claimed to exist. Pride wells within him for a moment that he had been a part that had allowed this to happen. Sorrow was soon to follow, that he had been so long from the companions and friends he had met in his travels since formerly renouncing the order, his life previous on the line from breaking from protocol.

As Davian speaks up, he snaps back Taigyn's attention. The commander of the Templar looks back over his shoulder, craning to see his men before nodding, "It would do them well, but let it be understood that they behave themselves. We may have changed, but much of the world still holds animosity against our Order... And rightly so. We need not give them more reason to detest us and should strive to correct that opinion. Correct?"

"True..." Davian says, as he looks around at the peasantry, who stared in awe at the sight of so many shining men, and a few women, even. He leans in closer and raises an eyebrow. "... But... If the riff raff starts a fight..." Seeing what was a scowl from Taigyn, he clears his throat. "... I will... Make sure to inform the men to... Leave them alive. And untouched. Mostly."

The black woman speaks, finally, glaring at the both of them with an icy look that could only bely someone who wanted nothing to do with them, though especially Davian, moreso than Taigyn. "Watch your tongue, knave. We're right here, you know." Davian rolls his eyes as he slouches back on his armoured horse, reaching for a leather pouch full of wine on the side of his saddle. "My apologies, I forgot the Republic let a flea bitten peasant lead them, my lord." He says to Taigyn, though he really intended it for the woman. "Alida here... She's... Not learned her place as a--" A knife speeds through the air and pierces the pouch, spraying wine all over Taigyn's side as the knife bounces harmlessly off his chest piece. As a response Davian's horse bucks on him and he falls off, yelping in surprise as he lands on his back. Alida then smiles as she looks at Taigyn, though there was a fury in her eyes that could intimidate armies of men. "Yes. Just a peasant. I do not know any better... My apologies." If the sarcasm were any thicker, one would be able to visible see it floating and taunting over a seething Davian, who bit his tongue as he climbed back atop his horse.

Taigyn cannot repress the faint smirk at his lips or the crinkle at his eyes at his amusement, even if the cost was whine soaking into his clothes and likely staining it. "If the men have any disputes, they can bring it up with their superiors. I am sure they have enough discipline to abstain from any more embarrassments to themselves and the Order as a whole." He politely tips his head to Alida and brushes off where the knife had scuffed his plate. "I know I'm not much to look at, Alida, but did you need to help me look even less presentable? I am meeting old friends, after all. What if they think I've taken to hitting the wine too hard in my old age?" He chuckles more to himself than anything.

Alida shrugs and looks forward at the palace, several floors tall and an architectural marvel that only the Mage's Guild could have helped to build. Maybe even Amanda herself. "... We all look poor in front of this monument." She then looks at the sides of the streets, seeing both children and adults, of all races, sizes, and classes, standing side by side as they looked in a mixture of marvel and curiosity. "...And her people." Davian sets his horse to a quick trot to catch up to the both of them, and looks between them. "... Oh please, you're making me sick." Alida rolls her eyes this time. "Oh no. Whatever will we do if the blue blood gets sick." Davian glares at her, then looks over her form with disdain and pity, rather than lust. "I don't know. Whatever demons my stomach conjures for me to spew will certainly still look better than you." Alida shakes her head and snaps the reigns of her horse, moving ahead of both of them. Davian smirks as he leans back once more, instinctively reaching for his wine, only to recall that it was destroyed. "Wench." He mutters under his breath. "... Was a good soldier once, though."

Taigyn turns upon Davian, anger on his face. "You will respect her as you respect myself, Davian. She leads a good cause and embodies much of what we should all strive to be in the wake of what befalls Rheinfeld." He draws back, forcing himself to resume a dignified composure as he continues, "But if you believe you cannot, feel free to join the men in their respite. Replenish your wine. I'm sure you will look more respectable, stumbling drunken down the streets than making a fool of us all in front of the other envoys."

Davian's pride had been hit with that one. The breath caught in his throat as he looked around at the peasantry. Many were looking at him with disdain at what had just gone down. His lip quivers a little as he looks to Taigyn and bows his head obediently. "Yes, my lord. My behaviour was... Unacceptable." It seemed even with pride and nobility, being a Templar, he knew his place in the Order. "...Please... Try to understand... My position, as heir to the longest, noblest houses in all of Rheinfeld, that traces all the way back to Gault... I am... Unused to seeing the world as... Unnecessary of my greater education, that my... Upbringing has... Wielded unto me." His voice strained to find the right words. He was trying, though he struggled. "... Please accept... My most sincere, apologies."

Taigyn bows his head, "I understand. It is a shock to many of us who had long served the Order as it once was. But you do not owe me your apologies, as I see it." He looks after the retreating Alida, shaking his head. "Let us hope all is not lost with this display. I would prefer if a treaty with the Republic could be made sooner rather than later. Too many lives have already been lost, fighting amongst ourselves when the real enemy still remains."

"Hm." Davian looks at his gloved hands, spying the engraving of a falcon in the palm of each of them. He clenches them both and narrows his eyes. "Who is the real enemy... Today it's convenient to befriend these people, tomorrow, when our current enemies lie dead, and the convienence ends, we will be told to defy that which is core to us... Or die." He looks to Taigyn, with a certain amount of brotherhood. "Beware. Any friend today is an enemy tomorrow, given the right circumstances."

Taigyn looks up at the looming gates as his mouth tugs into a look of discomfort, "You say that, but perhaps you have not made good friends, as I have been blessed by chance with." He allows his attention to shift back to Davian, "You are still a young man, eager to make your mark and quick to act upon impulses. Perhaps with time you will see things differently. I was not so different in my younger years, after all." He offers a warm smile far more weathered than his true years should reflect.

Davian smiles back, though still doesn't seem to agree with Taigyn as they arrive at the gates. Tall enough to fit an ogre easily, the guards at the front look at Taigyn and Davian and bow their heads respectfully. Davian bows his head back in response, showing an uncharacteristic respect of the peasantry. "Halt." The guards state, looking to Alida, who had apparently been waiting for them. She dismounts her horse, and pats it on the neck. As it was trained to, it turns back and moves for the stables beside the castle. Others begin to dismount around them, a mixture of Templar and Republican soldiers. "We will enter each individually, to represent our individual factions." Alida states plainly. Davian nods in agreement. "Sensible." He looks to Taigyn, awaiting for him to dismount and lead before doing the same. The guards look at them both. "Who will go first... The Rheinfeld Republic, or the Templar Order?"

Taigyn dismounts from the back of his aged riding lizard, patting him on his back. The lizard gives him a look, eyes spaced out and seemingly looking at nothing as its tongue flicks out and licks over its right eye. Taigyn purses his lips before giving the creature an affectionate scratch between the eyes. "Simple beast, but a good one," he chuckles, grabbing the reigns and directing over where Alida's horse went, "Stables." The creature cocks its head and seems to head that way before looking back at him. Taigyn crosses his arms, giving a challenging look before the lizard finishes slinking onwards, dejected.

With that taken care of, Taigyn turns back to the guards and clears his throat, "If the Republic wishes, I would have them go first. They did technically arrive before us, if only by moments."

Davian looks at the lizard, watching it waddle its way over to the stables. All the men expect some kind of comment about its heritage and grandmother, and yet, Davian smiled. "I had a rather peculiar blood hound growing up. One of his ears was longer than the other, constantly got in the way of his eyes, oft messed up his pursuits... But he was loyal. Loyalty is more important than appearances." He looks at Taigyn, the sense of camaraderie brimming from him as Alida enters with her Republican soldiers. "Say. Guard." He looks at the Renaltan soldier, who stood perfectly still. "You seem noble enough." The guard grins a little. "Actually, my parents were farmers." Davian almost seemed disappointed. "Oh... Well... Everyone can aspire to something, at least."

Taigyn waits, tapping his boots against each other as the Republic procession moves forth. As they pass by, he offers his nod and the occasional well-wish and polite remark. His hand goes up, to scratch his peppered beard as the guards address him once more, calling them to enter. He bows his head in thanks and looks to Davian. "Well, here goes nothing," he smirks, starting forward.

As Taigyn does, Davian snaps his fingers, and a procession of priests and Templar who had gotten ready for the occasion immediately step forward. Davian grabs Taigyn's right pauldron, and holds him back momentarily. "Let the ceremonies commence, remember, you're the leader of a nation, not a... Vagrant." They could both see past the gate as Templar in silver-steel armour, without any decorations beyond those of the Order, formed lines on each side of a red carpet set out for the guests to enter. A pair of priests, both women, enter and begin to speak a prayer in Rheinfelder, the hard language of warriors. The area around the carpet grew with a holy light, as Davian then let go of Taigyn's pauldron. "Now, we may enter. You first, my lord, and I will follow, as any second should." The light would shine off of them specifically, upon entering, the Templar on each side would bow their heads and kneel at the passing of the head of the Order.

Taigyn barely manages to keep the disappointed expression from his face. As much as traditions and ceremonies were a part of the Order, it still felt uncomfortable to him given his time with the Queens and their sortie of misfits. It could not be helped. Raising his head high, he proceeds as tall as he can manage. Davian was right, of course, he was the leader of a faction of power in Rheinfeld now, he would have to follow through with the tedious processions. Just so long as it did not inhibit his time reuniting with those he had not seen in many years, it was something he could abide by.

As they both entered, Davian's chin went right back up the way it had been before, shoulders held high, tall and proud. The ceremony was uptight and overly righteous but displayed the culture of discipline and duty well enough that there was no sense in changing it, it seemed. Save for the Republican soldiers, who stood without formation, many with shoulders slouched, appearing unimpressed by the display. The Imperium, which had arrived before them all, stood and watched with a certain sense of appreciation for the ritual. It was old and they seemed to understand its roots better than perhaps even those who committed to it. As Taigyn and Davian finally reach the end of the procession, they stood mere feet away from Queen Kouri and Queen Alexandria, who each stood close to their thrones. "Queens of Renalta," Davian starts, as he bows his head out of respect. "May I introduce Taigyn, leader of the Templar Order, and rightful ruler of Rheinfeld."

Nearby, Alida crossed her arms and shook her head at Taigyn, disappointed by the sight she saw compared to the man she had seen earlier. "Oh Queens, I do wish to apologize if Taigyn is not at his utmost in appearances, for you see, a wench--" Kouri interrupts him with the raise of a hand, causing Davian to bow his head further and step behind Taigyn. "I don't need to you speak for an old friend." Kouri says with a soft smile. "Welcome back, Taigyn. It's been a long time."

Taigyn removes his helmet, tucking it beneath his arm as he bows before Kouri, "Indeed it has, Prince-- Queen, Kouri." A smirk plays over his lips as he taps by his good eye and directs at Alex, "And you as well, Queen Alexandria." Amusement plays across his face as he takes in her appearance, "And might I say, you look well in a dress. I never thought I myself would witness the day." He straightens himself out, head held high, "As Davian started, apologies for the dishevelled appearance, but I must say, wine is certainly a better colour on me than sand and spider, don't you think?"

"Quite." Kouri says, the smile not leaving her as the procession of templar and priests starts to mingle with the crowd, a piano beginning to play with a violin in the background. There, Taigyn would spot the blind bard who had accompanied them, on his flute. Davian looks between the three and shakes his head, walking off towards the Imperium's men, likely to compare their strength to his own.

It was then that, from the shadows, Mikan slipped out and looked Taigyn over. "You know... It certainly looks better on you than blood... It's been a while..." She says, almost with a hint of remorse.

His smile drops at the sound and sight of the younger Spymaster. His eye closes for a moment as if regathering his thoughts before he steps forward and draws her into a tight embrace. "As I live and breathe, I've caught the Green Fox!" He jests, loosening his grip and drawing back. His face still did not hold the same pleasant merriment as with other just moments before. He looks her over, brows raising, "It... has been some time. You... You look well." He clears his throat and nods awkwardly, unable to take his eyes off the matured girl.

Mikan's lips curl up mischievously as she looks at Taigyn eye to eye, quietly moving herself back up to him and resting a finger atop his chest plate, just underneath his chin. "... Oh, I do more than look well, Taigyn. All you have to do is ask." She giggles, that same childish giggle that she had ten years ago remained with her.

The Templar commander finds himself flushing as he stares at Mikan, fighting down the lump that was suddenly present in his throat. "Ah, well..." he licks his lips and takes a step back, "A welcome gesture, but I am afraid I am I could not ask such." He offers a wry smile, "You know me... Always with rigid formalities and conduct. I'd feel just rotten to saddle any poor woman with such a grizzled old bastard as myself, anyhow."

"Hahahahaha!" Mikan erupts into a soft laughter, before eyeing a little over Taigyn's thighs. "Oh, don't you worry, I would be the one saddling..." She openly enjoyed how much it bothered him to see her become this woman. Still. There were many other matters to attend to, for a Spymaster. "I must get going... For now. I'll see you again, when the party dies down, I think... Oh, and don't be afraid to stare." She winks and walks away from the ball room, likely back to hide in whatever position she had been in to oversee the whole procession. However, as she did, she intentionally put a slight sway in her hips, and hummed a tune quietly to herself.

He blinks, unable to keep from staring after her for a moment, taking in the intentional show before coming to his senses and drawing himself away. He looks about awkwardly, hoping the others to accompany him on his journey here had not just bore witness to his laughable display just now.

---

Kingdom of Liveria: Introduction

---

Unlike others, who marched in grand processions and brought with the many soldiers, Liveria’s envoy was small and to the point. With a mere hundred or so men and women, well armed and many carrying small lizards or birds. Their black uniforms belied the darker architecture of their home, and notable none were on horseback or otherwise. Three people led the procession: A man in his thirties wearing fine red and black silk and linen, with short brown hair and sharp green eyes. He stood tall, though he was only of average height. At his waist his rapier rattled in its sheath, a ceremonial weapon moreso than an actual weapon of war. To each side of himself there was a woman, though they were both quite different in appearance.

The first woman was to his right, and wore a bizarre array of things not commonly found in Liveria, or most other places really. A pair of glasses laid gently on the bridge of her nose, small and meant for reading and yet she wore them nonetheless. Her hair was a very dark shade of brown, one could be forgiven for mistaking it as black, and combed back into a pony tail. She carried no weapons though based on the way her brown cloak draped around her shoulders, she could easily hide a few small weapons on her slender frame. Surprisingly enough, she is taller than he is.

The second woman was to his left, and was shorter than most around her. Standing only at a meagre 5’4”, her eyes were the only ones to wander across the street, the houses, and the bystanders in wonder, even waving to the occasional person in the crowd who waved to her. She was even smiling--something everyone else around her was not doing. While the other two were a bit difficult to recognize, this one was obvious simply by the way her black dress hugged her form, the way her corset tightened around her abdomen, and even the slight hints of makeup on her face that she seemed to cooperate with: Princess Helénē. And like all princesses, she was a beautiful young woman, with quite the family pedigree to match.

So it was no surprise, then, when a man in silver armour brazenly stepped out from the crowd and stopped the small procession. Immediately half a dozen variously sized crossbows flashed out from the Liverian royal guard, though a single hand motion from the man leading them caused the weapons to lower slightly. Either way, the plate mailed man stared at the trio of interesting characters before him and bowed humbly before the one leading them. ”King Xavier,” He starts. ”I am Johannas Fredriech, of the house of Tyvin, of the lands of Rheinfeld. I have humbly come to request a task worthy enough to win the hand of thy daughter.” Xavier looks the man over with a cold stare before looking to his daughter, who appeared extremely uncomfortable with the prospect of being promised to a random stranger.

”No.” Xavier said as he motioned for the knight to leave their presence. ”No? I do not understand. Surely you would wish to wed thy daughter to a high standing member of a society much stronger than your own. Perhaps we could work out an--” The Rheinfelder is stopped as the woman with glasses raises her hand, glaring at him as she lifts him off the ground with magic. Helénē looks at the woman and gasps. ”No! Stop! I command you to stop!” Xavier said nothing, and merely watched the Rheinfelder struggle for breath as the Princess whistles. A small lizard comes plummeting down from the skies and lands on her shoulder. It looked like any regular gecko, but with evolved, gliding wings connecting its limbs to its body, like a parasail. She whispers something to it and it immediately flies and lands on the magician’s face, causing her to stumble. The Rheinfelder drops down onto the street, coughing and sputtering. ”Away with you! Flee, while you have the chance!” Helénē says, the knight nodding in appreciation as he dives back into the crowd.

Immediately the woman with glasses tears the lizard from her face and tosses it towards the ground. He recovers and glides, turning and zipping back to Helénē before hiding on her back and changing his skin tone to match the black silk of her dress. The magician straightens her glasses out and Xavier chuckles. ”Well done Helénē. Though I would have preferred you to use your own magic to stop hers.” Before the magician can protest he raises a hand, silencing her immediately as her shoulders droop, staring down at the street with anger in her eyes. Helénē looks up at her father and frowns. ”Were you just going to let Mila kill that man?” Xavier nodded. ”If he was brazen enough to seek out your hand when I told him no, then he would listen to no other sound than that of death’s coarse voice lulling him to sleep.” Helénē frowns, but doesn’t argue the point further. Xavier was not the type of man to change his mind often.

Soon enough, however, they arrived at the gates of the keep. The two guards looked them over, one with suspicion, the other with appreciation. ”Welcome brothers and sisters!” The appreciative one stated as Xavier shook his head. ”We are not. We have not been for ages.” The guard’s eyebrows cross with confusion. ”My half-sister is Liverian. My uncle is Liverian. I have Liverian blood in me, and most Liverians have Renaltan blood in them. We are cut from the same cloth and share much of the same history--” The suspicious guard glares at the other guard, shooting him down and then looking back to Xavier. He bows his head respectfully. ”I apologize. He was simply excited to see the royalty that some of his family reveres.” Princess Helénē walks over to the appreciative guard and gently places her hand on his shoulder, causing him to blush brightly. ”It’s okay, I humbly accept your welcome, and hope you can join us later in the ball room.”

The two guards look at each other and nod, the appreciative one fumbles over his next words as he motions them inside. ”Th-The Queens await thee most graciously, princess Helénē... And, th-thank you.” As Xavier and Helénē enter the ball room, the crown-prince scowled looking at his daughter. ”So long as Renalta welcomes outside dangers, they will never be like us.” Helénē looks up at her father, a sympathetic if disagreeing look in her eyes. ”...They are exactly like us, they just aren’t afraid of the dark anymore, father.” Before the two could debate any further, they reached the sight of Kouri and the Imperium’s Empress, walking towards them.

”Welcome, Xavier.” Queen Kouri says with a hint of reservation. ”That is Crown-Prince to you, my... Queen.” Xavier replies as Helénē quietly laughs nervously. ”... Ah... How about we simply focus on--” Mila steps in front of Helénē and motions her back. This was something the two had to resolve now, before there were more nations there to observe the squabbling. Queen Alexandria joins the discussion as she quickly moves to her wife’s side, glaring at Xavier. ”Ah. So you did manage to join us.” He clasps his hands behind his back and raises his shoulders proudly, without a hint of shame. ”Arrive, yes, I did manage this. Across all those grasslands. How challenging. ‘Tis a good thing you were not travelling with us, there were so many trees, why, we would have taken many weeks to reach this... Place.” Alex growls, but Kouri grasps Alex’s hand softly and calms her. Seeing Xavier’s eyebrow raise, she smiled softly. ”Why yes, if we were travelling with you, there would have been many stops in the various towns and farmsteads to visit the people, and to have comfortable places to rest that aren’t made out of stone blocks, dirt, or otherwise... In Liveria I know however it is different, and I would not complain about the accommodations provided to me freely by another... Nor would I insinuate any potentially disagreeable habits or behaviours from their wife, why, that would only display immaturity and lacklustre social graces, something one should expect from... A vagabond, not a member of the nobility... Wouldn’t you say so, Xavier?”

The crown-prince bites his lip, and then narrows his eyes. ”Perhaps... Where are your touted children, anyway? I wanted to meet them.” He says with a hard if somewhat caring look in his eyes. Kouri shakes her head. ”They are elsewhere. They will not be joining us for the ball. Seeing how there will be many different... Cultures, people... With possible sensitive feelings, we felt it best to avoid any potential... Complications.” Xavier wrings his wrists behind his back, displaying uncertainty as to how to properly proceed. ”And to protect them, no doubt, from some of the more... Extreme, foreigners.” Kouri sighs and nods, not seeing any way around answering the question correctly without lying to him. ”Yes. To a certain extent.” After a brief silence, Xavier nods to Alexandria respectfully. ”You have my apologies... It is just hard to accept sometimes that you came to be with the woman I had hoped to wed and protect from danger.” Kouri interjects before Alexandria has the chance, a disappointed look is in her eyes. ”I need not your protection, nor your love... I need your friendship.” Xavier’s hard look doesn’t leave him as he stares Kouri eye to eye. ”...We will see if that is possible, my Queen.” He then turns and leaves the Queens alone.

Helénē, on the other hand, quickly zips past Mila and up to Kouri. Looking up to her, she smiles, blushes mildly, and then her smile grows into a most exuberant grin of childish excitement and wonder. ”Queen Kouri!... The real one!” Kouri’s look turned to confusion as she looked at Helénē’s star-filled eyes. ”...Yes... I am Kouri. The one and only, though many illusionists think themselves clever to try and disguise themselves as me.” The princess almost seems to explode with energy as she grabs Kouri’s hand and shakes it rapidly. ”Hi I’m Helénē and I always wanted to meet you because I read the legends about you when I was little and learned magic too because of you and also because you are COMPLETELY AMAZING and strong and intelligent and I always wanted to meet you did I mention that because--” As she runs out of breath and takes a deep breath to continue Kouri grasps her small shoulders and squeezes them softly. ”Relax!... Calm down, we have time before the next delegation arrives. You can ask me as many questions as you want. Lets just walk over here...”

---

The Goblin Holds: Introduction

---

((Note: Collaborative work between Brovo and Kadaeux.))

The Goblin Holds had managed to edge out just ahead of the Free Holds, almost as though they were intentionally delayed by repeated sandstorms. Nonetheless, several hundred goblins and orcs, and a few humans and elves, dotted the large travelling group as they entered the city of Renalta. One couldn't help but marvel at the sight of so many different peoples standing and riding side by side, and though not quite as wealthy as the free holds, there could almost be considered a similar sense of brotherhood and camaraderie among them as there was amongst the Rheinfelders. Still, they had their fair share of wealth, with elephants, scorpions, and camels.

The lead general of the Emperor's armies, Nash Skullbringer. He grinned as his skull shaped pieces of armour here and there gathered more than a few looks from the guardsmen... As did the bleached white skulls of the slavers on his staff, which was otherwise little more than an over-glorified stick. "If only we could have shown them the Asimov Worm you keep as a pet." He grunts as he looks at Emperor Xixis' scorpion, which chitters and clicks its pincers together. It was young, but eager enough, a child of the original scorpion which had carried Xixis as it, too, now served Xixis. "So. I'm assuming those random dust storms behind us which unfortunately slowed the Free Holds caravan to a crawl had nothing to do with you?"

Xixis grinned as he looked at his general from the side of his eyes. "I cannot imagine what you could possibly be insinuating old friend, why would I possibly have held up a bunch of slaving scum and ensure it'd take a good month to remove the sand from their trousers." Xixis winked. "I also definitely did not enchant a batch of sand to magically find its way back into the pants of the freeholds representatives every day. Nosiree." The procession was magnificent, from the Goblin Scorpion riders to the orcs and human Mameluke cavalry. He sighed. It would have been magnificent to show Queen Kouri his tamed Aasimov Worm. Tell a few tales about the time they fought an angel while fighting one off too...

Nash makes a few motions through the air with his hand as a few human children spectate and follow around him. They were almost more amazed by his dire wolf than they were by him. Little purple sprites flew from the orc's hand, flying back off to the crowd as the children pursued them. Shaking his head he looked ahead and spotted the palace, in all of its grandeur. Tall, brilliantly constructed architecture. With his talents he immediately knew and appreciated the work the Mage's Guild had in contributing to this marvel of engineering, several floors tall, and yet, it could withstand blows from any cannon, catapult, and trebuchet and shrug it off. "These Queens are old friends of yours, yes? Well... They certainly know how to pick their designers." He then pauses for a moment in speech. "... Queens." A slight curl reaches his lips, with mixed feelings at the notion. "I am looking forward to meeting the lycanthrope."

"Aye, I helped them in their quest to banish the gods, the reward was well worth the cost." Xixis went silent for a moment remembering Zex and Xez. The Madheart Clan had been saddened at the loss of the two slave-bodyguards and had offered the next set of twins born to be raised and take the same place but Xixis had refused. "They know what they're doing indeed." Xixis continued. "I remember one time when the Queens were... 'keeping each other company', Zex thought they were wrestling when he went past their window to the room of the inn we were staying in, poor little git left some copper coins for the winner."

Nash burst out into laughter the moment he heard it, a loud, almost bestial kind, that was feverish amongst the few orcs nearby. They all had a unique kinship, even closer than that they had with the goblins, humans, and elves. The kind where when one grew energetic, so too did the rest. "Good!" He stated with excitement in his voice. "Then they know how to live, being so energetic as to make that 'git' think them to be fighting!" He pats his wolf who howls, joined by all the others in the caravan as one, loud howl of unison the whole city could hear. Finally he settled enough that, as the other orcs continued to banter and cheer with their goblin compatriots, he settled his wolf closer to the scorpion. The wolf whined, not being comfortable near a natural, instinctive enemy, only to be scratched behind the ears. "Hush Mishna..." His red eyes look to Xixis as his tone grows quieter. "Good news, and bad... Those two you asked me to look out for... Sarah, and Amanda... Scouts reported Sarah's activity nearby, she will likely be at the Ball, hidden, or in disguise. Amanda, on the other hand, is brazen enough to simply waltz about there... Watch your book, old friend. She still wants to get her hands on it."

Xixis's own good cheer evaporated slightly at the news. Sarah he liked, Amanda he rather did not. "Foul witch wanting to take that which she has no rightful claim to. The ancient power of the Madheart Clan is not meant for creatures like her." He almost snarled the response but managed to reign it in and keep his emotions in check. Xixis kept the book on him always. But Amanda was not a creature to respect personal boundaries. "Keep close watch for her my friend when she shows herself. I don't want her anywhere near me, and politics be damned where she is concerned."

Xixis took a handful of gold coins and created small sand wings for each of them and sent them fluttering around a bunch of poor looking children.

While there were not many in the kingdom of endless work and community, those few that were there happily took them and cheered Xixis' name before dashing back into the crowds, likely to share their 'spoils' with their families. With a simple and curt nod, Nash allows his wolf to go back to its comfortable position, a few feet further away from the scorpion.

As they arrived at the gates, the guards looked mildly exhausted from all those who had come before. Yet, they snapped to attention nonetheless, and saluted the pair. "Goblin Holds, correct?" Nash blinks. "We are green, and not in chains... I would say so." He growled lowly at the pair, then chuckled as they attempted feebly to hide being intimidated by the large orc. "We have been given specific orders. Queen Alexandria is allowing Xixis to bring in his scorpion, as per request submitted to us. Your wolf however must stay outside. There are stables nearby, we have made appropriate arrangements." Nash grunts and dismounts, patting Misha's fur, she whimpers, then departs from her comrade's side. He then looks to Xixis. "Shall we?"

Xixis nodded amused by the General's games with the guards. "We shall." He said with a chuckle. He turned to the guards. "The procession following us may be slightly unhappy friend. Let them know that they're more than welcome to have a sand bath to feel just that little bit more at home." Xixis said feigning concern and helpfulness to conceal a large dollop of spitefulness. "They get a bit antsy without one every few miles or so."

The guards roll their eyes and look at each other, shaking their heads. "Yeah, yeah." Just as they were about to open the doors, out from the shadows of the keep slipped a cloaked figure, though distinctly feminine. Just by her presence Nash felt unsettled, but Xixis, inherently knew who it was. She takes a position between Nash and Xixis, thick brown robes covering her head to toe, and preventing an inch of skin from being seen. "... This an old friend, I'm guessing?" One of the guards asks.

"No no, it's a sentient flying robe come to kill us all." Xixis said deadpan to the guard while winking at Sarah. "It's good to see you again old friend, I trust you've been well?"

The figure nods and slips him a note. Written in perfect Goblinoid, it confirmed her identity, as there were very few humans who could even speak it or write it, leave alone perfectly. "Well... Alright then." The guards open the large doors to allow the trio passage, along with a few elite goblin and orc guards who accompanied them. Nash grinned as he stepped forth, being greeted to the sights and sounds of Livarians in their dark and shadowy ways, Imperials all remaining closely knit as if forever trapped in formation, Rheinfelders in a mixture of shining armour and blue ribboned Republicans, and of course Renaltans, who were of all various shapes and sizes. It was a remarkable sized hall, and Nash turned slowly, taking in the sights of it. Sometimes he forgot his station, much to the chagrin of some of the others there. He then spots amongst the Imperium's crowd a Lich, who had a blank expression as she stared at him and nodded. Strangely, she had human flesh. "... Powerful." He remarks as the Lich looks back at him. "... Cunning." She replies in her ethereal voice, her lips unmoving.

Kouri and Alex stood by their thrones, though Alex seemed to be slowly getting agitated with repeatedly being interrupted in the middle of whatever conversation she was in every time someone arrived. Still, she took it in stride.

Xixis nodded as those nobles who deigned to notice him as his scorpion skittered over the floor towards the thrones. "Kouri, Alex." He bowed slightly in respect. "Such pomp must certainly be putting the metaphorical sand in your pants Alex." He winked at her.

Kouri shakes her head at the comment and smiles. "Haven't changed at all, have you." She then looks at the cloaked figure and narrows her eyes. It took her a moment, but the look she had confirmed that she knew who it was. "You keep dangerous company." She says softly as the crowd around quiets down, sensing tension, and something else.

"King Madheart." The all too familiar, spine chillingly feminine voice came from the crowd assembled there as Amanda stepped out, fully covered in robes, staff in hand. Nash steps in her way and growls lowly. "You realize the artifact you carry is unknown even to us... It is dangerous to take it with you here."

"You realise I care not whether it's unknown to you or not. It is known to me and has been known to my clan for untold lengths of time before it was stolen. So, if I may be impolite for a moment, go away." Xixis said without any trace of diplomacy. "I'm not about to allow you to steal the inheritance of Clan Madheart."

"It would not be stealing." Amanda says with a sigh. "I would return it to you when I had thoroughly finished studying it... Besides, let us be honest, if I wished not for diplomacy, I would be more than enough even for you." Kouri looks at Amanda with an icy glare, very uncharacteristic of her usually tranquil and kind nature. "This is neutral territory, back off Amanda. I'm asking you both as a friend and as the Queen of this nation in which your Guild calls home." Amanda then looks at the figure in the middle, who had turned to stare at Amanda. There was a bit of a pause before Amanda stated something in a language that nobody in the room recognized, though it didn't sound particularly polite or meant for the ears of children.

The figure chuckles, and pulls back her hood, revealing herself: Sarah Darkhammer. Even those who hadn't met her knew her description well enough to know who she was, and at that, half the room immediately loathed her, the other half, intrigued. "Yes, it's me, old friend... Try to be polite. These Queens are a good enough lot." Amanda sighs, and backs off, away from Nash, who finally lowered his staff. "Just for you," Amanda says while she looks at Kouri, not Sarah. "And, please..." She then looks at Xixis. "Do at least consider... That I would be willing to study it at your home, now that I have the portable tools, and don't have to take it to the Guild."

"I think not." Xixis said plainly. "The only other people in this room I’d trust to touch let alone read the book is sitting on that throne, or just making her dramatic entrance." The extreme distaste he held for Amanda spilling through in his tone. "Though I am fairly sure Kouri can't read the tongue its written in." He chuckles.

Kouri takes a glance at the tome. "I could figure it out, I think, given enough time." As the ball room starts to relax, she does her best attempt to speak in Goblinoid. "You kind, language, hard. Syntax." It was messy and hard to understand, but the attempt was admirable enough. Nash nods to Xixis and remains close to him, but seems to admire the lycanthrope more now that he could see her than before when he could only imagine what she looked like.

Xixis winced at the mangled goblinoid. "Admirable attempt for a human milady, but next time you visit the Goblin Holds I'll be happy to help you speak the 'uncivilised' tongue a little more proficiently." He offered with some polite humility. Not even the lowliest Goblin would mistake their tongue for a civilised one.

Kouri bows her head politely to the King, though she still knew him as a travelling compatriot. "I would be honoured to learn more about your people." She then approaches Xixis and motions to move towards one side of the room. "Now, shall we catch up before the Free Holds arrive?" She says softly.

"Most certainly." He says with a smile before flicking a copper coin at Alex. "Memories of less troubled times." He grins slightly sadly.

.

---

The Free Holds: Introduction

---

Just as the people of the Goblin Holds had finally dispersed into the crowds and taverns of the capital city, another desert caravan arrived behind them. Even later than expected, as they had to clean sand from all of their things. Such, marvellous things, indeed, as even the camels were covered in gold, silver, platinum, and jewels, dragging behind them further gold and silver. There were elephants and scorpions and wolves and all such variety of animals, some of which barely fit the city streets as the crowds on each side made room for them to pass. Still, there were some other, not such beautiful sights that the crowds had the misfortune of seeing: Slaves. Fairly well dressed slaves, remarkable, most even modestly, but still, the crowds tended to grow silent and reserved at the sight of them, despite being offered ‘the charity of the holds’ in the form of small pouches of gold and silver.

At the front of this immense caravan of at least fifteen hundred men and women is a carriage, of sorts. It is floating without the need or aid of men and women to lift it through the aid of a magician dressed in thick, purple robes who stood in front of the front of the caravan. Surprisingly enough given the circumstances, he was a tiefling. Inside sat an older man with darker skin and short, curled black hair. He was young and yet tired looking judging by the bags under his eyes, and the sign of wrinkles starting to form across his forehead. Others sat inside with him, at least a half a dozen men and one woman of various ethnicity, race, and appearance. Each was the ruler of a hold in the Free Holds, large or small... And all, predictable, arguing.

”Look, we can’t just march an army into Southblood!” One chimed in. ”Ever since the Gods were banished it has grown to nearly three times the size and power it had before!” Another shakes his head in disagreement. ”Of course we can, we just aren’t foolish enough to try it. That’s why we hire assassins.” A third spoke up, this one the woman. ”And your brilliant plan to hire assassins is foolish. The crescent sisters are no longer available to us and others cannot get the job done like they could... Given the situation, we couldn’t hire anyone like them again anyway.”

As they continued to squabble, the man with black hair rested his head in his hands and groaned. The magician at the front crosses his eyebrows, and telepathically spoke to him. ”Fahim, I know you tire of your current form, but I need you to hold it for just a while longer.” Fahim nods and telepathically communicates back to the magician. ”You’re sure it will happen here?” There was a momentary pause as Fahim looked about the interior. ”Absolutely. There is no reason for Deimos’ assassin to--”

Boom. In a single moment, without warning, the entire carriage explodes violently, sending wooden shards in several directions. The crowd on either side of the street shrieked in momentary terror before watching the sharps hit invisible barriers, and fall to the ground harmlessly. There was some blood sprayed as well, but not nearly enough for the seven people inside. As the smoke clears, a greyish, slimey mess slowly reforms itself from the puddle it had previously been. The magician nods in appreciation as the keep’s gate guards reached the scene, along with a few Rheinfelder knights and a couple Liverian witch hunters. Both the Rheinfelders and Liverians immediately unsheathed their weapons at the sight of the strange creature, who retook Fahim’s form, with the black curly hair and noble robes decorated heavily in gold and silver... Though with grey, empty eyes.

The magician steps over to Fahim with a smile as he pulls back his hood, revealing his identity as a ruler of one of the most powerful warlords of the Free Holds: Rashad Rhallous. Behind Fahim, some of the other warlords whose likeness had been within the carriage ran to reach the front of the caravan, which had come to a halt. The Renaltan guards usher the Rheinfelders and Liverians to lower their weapons as the keep’s pair of guards approached Fahim and Rashad. ”Wh... Hey... You... Are... What... I...” The two sigh at the same time as the older of the two speaks. ”What is going on? Is everyone alright?” Fahim shrugs as Rashad nods, a gentle looking smile on his face. ”Yes. Of course. Everyone of consequence is perfectly fine.” Fahim then looks to Rashad. ”The assassin was the woman. She had a small but potent ignition which she used magic to amplify by turning the bodies of the two closest men she could reach into a combustible explosive. Boom. Instant powder kegs.” As one of the warlords catches up to the group, he pants, and nods towards Rashad. ”Good work. I hadn’t thought Deimos to be so craven. Or bold.”

Rashad stumbles and reaches for his head as Fahim grabs him around the shoulders. ”Thank you.” Rashad mutters as he looks to the warlord whose life they had just saved. ”Fahim is the one to thank.” The warlord rolls his eyes. ”I know you are soft towards slaves, but stop giving them credit. He is your property so it was your idea.” The keep guards scratch their heads in a mixture of anger and confusion. ”Can we just... Go to the keep? And you can explain all of this to the Queens?” Rashad nods appreciatively. ”Of course.”

After a short amount of travel, with little explanation as to Fahim’s powers or who Deimos was, they entered the keep. With Fahid and Rashad came the other warlords that had joined Rashad in the invitation to visit Renalta, and with them came attractive looking men and women, as well as rather tough looking bodyguards. Rashad spots the look on Queen Kouri’s face at the sight of the “dancers” who had followed the other warlords in and yelled loudly, proudly, and joyfully. ”THESE ARE INDEED SLAVES! We know your laws, and while we travelled with some, they are well treated. We are not the brutish thug you met in your travels in Southblood. We have some...” He is momentarily distracted as a dark skinned, curvacious elf passes him by and winks. ”... Standards.”

As Kouri is about to reply, Sarah Darkhammer steps in and stares at Fahim. Her eye twitches as Fahim has a slight, vicious smirk cross his lips. ”You should be dead.” His smirk only grew at her annoyance. ”So should Enigma, and yet, he lives.” Kouri looks in confusion between them as Sarah, quietly, narrows her eyes at Fahim and explains. ”Many ages ago the Mechanists attempted to create artificial life. Prior to their attempts with Golems, they wanted the perfect assassins... Shapeshifters. They only succeeded with a select few creatures, and all were insane.” Rashad interjects quickly as Sarah’s hand twitches. ”Were! Were is the key word. I found Fahim in the desert, and decided he would be useful, but he proved to be more than just an assassin...”

Kouri raises her hands and pushes Sarah back a little, feeling an all too familiar chill run down her spine. ”Cut it.” She mutters as Sarah obliges in disrupting the spell that had linked them from Kouri’s mere touch. The Queen then looks at Rashad. ”Alright. Fine. I’m going to ignore the slaves for now, and your shapeshifter. Just...” She points towards the doors. ”What in the Gods was that sound?” Rashad’s breath catches in his throat as he takes a deep breath. Looking to Fahim momentarily for some help, Fahim merely shrugs again. He sighs, and faces the Queen once more, straightening his collar as he did so.

”Well... To keep it short and simple, there is a man who rose to power recently named Deimos. We have no doubt this is not his real name. He rose to power retaking the hold we lost to the Imperium, and has been violently disposing of the other warlords one by one, and installing his own puppet rulers. We were going to be his next targets seeing as how we bring the strongest opposition to him... However... One thing this ‘Deimos’ does not seem to understand.” He motions to the dark skinned dancer from earlier, who was putting a powder in a drink. ”If anyone knows assassins...” He pauses for a few moments as the dancer approaches, handing him a drink. ”It is us.” He spills the drink on her clothes as Kouri motions for a couple of guards to take her away. ”We are the best kingmakers and king killers you can find.”

Kouri sighs and rolls her eyes, looking up at the ceiling of the ball. ”Just make sure the assassins here do not harm a single soul. If they do...” She looks back down at him, glaring. ”I will hold you personally responsible.” Rashad nods as motions for Fahim to keep a lookout. ”There should be no further problems.” He stares after her as she turns to walk away. ”Ah... I might add something of interest, to you?” The queen turns, still with a glare as he continues. ”... Something I want to change... Is when this... Deimos, is removed, when the nine hells are finished... I plan on making this little... Council, of warlords, permanent... And the first thing I will try to do is set laws that slaves are people, not objects.” Kouri shakes her head with a bit of sorrow in her eyes. ”They should not be slaves, at all.” She turns to leave once more, only to have Rashad raise a hand once again asking her to stay momentarily. She sighs and turns. ”... By the way... We brought some exotic dresses for you and your wife, as gifts.” Kouri’s glare returns. ”... Not that kind. Well, mostly not that kind. Trust me! You are... Far too gracious a host for us to propose wearing the garb of some simple dancer!” She shakes her head and motions for him to show her, motioning Alex to come with her as she does.

All the while, Fahim and Sarah occasionally eyeball each other, and otherwise keep looking around for potential threats.

---

The Underdark Coalition: Introduction

---

((Note: Valsharess is an equivalent position to “queen.”))

As the Free Holds finally dispersed there was a slight rumbling as the roadway just behind Renalta’s city gate broke away and fell into a deep hole, several feet in size. A dwarf slowly pokes his head out of the hole, his helmet covered in dirt and dust as he looks around at the shocked looks of the gate guards. ”...Surface dwellers. Feh.” He grips the edge of the hole tightly, though it doesn’t seem to matter much as the drow woman beneath him shoves him up onto the ground. He flails momentarily as the drow woman steps out, dusting her rather revealing dress off with great annoyance as her ebony skin was revealed by the evening sun. ”This is ridiculous.” She says as she looks at the dwarf. ”What are you flailing about for?!” The dwarf stops and stares at the woman, then looks around. ”... I... Was told I would fall into the sky!” The drow woman reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose, great irritation crossing her face. ”... Why are you dwarves so gullible...”

Still. Further dwarves and drow start to pour out of the hole, side by side, the dwarves in a mixture of armours and martial weapons, the drow in their ceremonial garments, and noble robes. Some of the first to leave the hole were a drow and a dwarf of rather unique appearances. The other drow and dwarves seemed to look upon them with a certain sense of reverence. The dwarf was adorned head to toe in thick plate mail, a heavy mace rested upon his back as his beard unfurled in several braids down his chest to his waist. Upon his head sat a golden crown. Beside him, the tall, drow woman wore a rather revealing dress that showed off her midriff and was patterened in a black-purple colour scheme. Adored across it were many images of spiders of various shapes and sizes, and following her was a large spider, also adorned in lighter armour.

The dwarf looks over to his drow companion and snorts. ”Ye should be riding yer spider, oh valsharess.” His thick accent came through pretty clearly, as did the tease. ”We drow revere them, as you know. They are holy, we would not ride them... Besides, where is your pet, champion of the dwarves?” The dwarven champion snorts as he pulls a rather large stone out of a pocket of his. ”Her name’s skippy and she loves herself t’ bounce herself off a few fine lassies ‘fer a good brawl n a tavern. Also, it’s Duncan o’ the Rocklover clan to you, drow.” The valsharess rolls her eyes in irritation before gently caressing her spider’s large head, just between its eyes. ”Valsharess, if you would so please... But if you must call me by a first name... Anora. Or mistress... Whichever you prefer.” She says with a small smirk crossing her lips.

They moved quickly for the city’s keep, though as they did, several bystanders watched in awe at their passing. The both of them blink and stare back, though for altogether different reasons. ”A strange lot these people are... They stare out at us without a single weapon amongst them.” Duncan snorts and shoves Anora playfully. ”They’re jus’ frien’ly folks, no sense’n keepin’ any un’s weapons ‘fer’n reasons.” The valsharess blinked in confusion as the spider hissed at the dwarf champion. Duncan glares at the spider, in a challenging manner. ”Try it shit’fer brains and you’ll get smeared on me mace.” The valsharess stops momentarily and coos softly to her spider, calming it immediately. Duncan once again snorts. ”See, n’ this is why’yer lot don’t have any fun. Nobody beats each other to prove they can rule ‘nythin’.”

Quietly and calmly the woman turns and sways her hips as she kneels before her dwarven companion. Running a finger underneath his chin, she smiles slightly. ”You dwarves do a poor job of hiding your interest.” Duncan shrugs. ”It’s hard’n hidin’ me feelings in a honest society, mi’lady.” Anora frowns, pouting her bottom lip out a little as her fingers gently caress his jaws. ”Aww... Close...” He coughs and looks down at the ground. ”Fin’ mistress, I’ll call ye’ that once... But not in front o’ the other royals, got images to keep up n’ such.” Chuckling quietly, Anora returns to her feet. ”Good. It would be such a shame if there were any accidents before we returned to the underdark.” He stands stunned for a moment as she passes him by, spider in tow. The spider in turn hisses at him as it passes. Shaking himself out, the dwarven champion instinctively goes to straighten his collar, though being made of metal, it was hardly adjustable. ”That is one hell o’ a woman... Keepin’ her cool...” He mutters quietly to himself.

Finally, they arrive at the keep’s gates. As with all the other cavarans before theirs, they dispersed. The two keep gate guards looked at each other before looking the drow valsharess over. ”... Well, you seem... Appropriately dressed mi’lady.” The younger one says, blushing brightly as the drow queen rests a hand on his chest. ”Oh, you think so?... You know, flattery will get you everywhere...” The young man fumbles, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes widen, utterly intoxicated. The older guard narrows his eyes and snaps his fingers. ”Eh’, snap out of it.” The younger man does not respond as the drow woman whispers something in his ear. He immediately kneels and presses both of his arms against his chest. ”Yes mistress! Of course! I will do anything you say!” His voice was strained as the valsharess stepped back, her subtle handiwork accomplished. ”Be careful young man... Some pretty things are quite venomous for you.” She gently rests her hand on her spider as it coos gleefully. Duncan, on the other hand, merely moved past the whole lot and entered the keep.

As he did so, several stopped and stared at the odd sight of the short figure standing awestruck at how vaguely similar this place was to his home. Torches on the walls made out of real stone... Nice, velvet carpets made out of silk... Before his eyes reach, what was to him, the delicate frame of queen Kouri. He clears his throat as he bows before everyone there. ”Well... Ah... Hm... Public speeches aren’ my thing. So... Hello, I am... The grand champion of the dwarven peoples. I represent the pinnacle of physical and mental success.” He was trying his damned hardest to clear out his accent to make it understandable to others, and yet, hints of it remained. ”An’ I’m here to answer ye call to this party... Ball... Celebration, of yours.” Uncomfortable with the looks he was getting, he shuffled away into the crowd as the queen of the drow finally stepped into the room.

”I am Anora... Though you should call me by my title, Valsharess. Queen of the drow, and leader of the coalition.” Her eyes wander over the room, noticing the appreciative looks she was getting her lips curl up into what appeared to be a warm smile, though a few recognized the daggers that laid behind it. ”... And I, like the somewhat... Shy, Duncan of the dwarves, have come to offer open arms of companionship for any that should seek it.” She, like Duncan, bows, though this was with far greater eloquence as she then immediately approached the ‘delicate’ looking queen, unlike Duncan, who was content to try (and fail) to blend in with the crowd.

Kouri watched as Anora approached, and bowed her head slightly in respect. ”Welcome to my kingdom.” The valsharess pouted as she noticed that Kouri didn’t even bat an eye at her appearance. Then again, the valsharess noted quietly to herself, there was a drow general in this kingdom who likely told her all about drow customs... And drow tricks. Still, her own eyes wandered over Kouri, and unlike Duncan who merely saw a delicate woman, she saw so much more judging by the way she quietly closed the small gap between them, getting close to Kouri. ”Ah, yes, this... Surface world is such a... Different, place.”

Kouri hesitated as she took a step back. Anora noticed the hesitation and stepped forward, immediately grasping Kouri’s hand. ”Please, do not be alarmed, I have no intention or ability to do to you what I did to your guard... He simply had to be showed his place. After all, we women are far more sophisticated, interesting... Especially you.” Kouri’s eyes narrow into a glare as she slaps the valsharess’ hand away. In turn, she takes the step back in surprise. ”You are so... Personal, I am sorry if I offended you, you surfacers are very... Private, with your space, it is something I have heard of but never really experienced.” Kouri sighs and shakes her head. ”I am married... And the last woman with such powers as yours to try influencing me, even a little, was a half-succubi... And she nearly was lit aflame.”

Quietly, the two women eyeball each other. Two drastically different cultures collided, and yet, they were both politicians, they could both see that in one another. ”Our negotiation tactics are... Different.” The valsharess remarks quietly, and with uncertainty. ”Quite.” Kouri replies softly. Already things were made awkward between them. ”Well... I... Think we should... Speak more later. About other things than... Personal rules, and social conduct.” Anora stated, watching like a hawk for any kind of response from Kouri, who merely gave her a blank look as she hid how she felt about it. ”Of course... Though, Alexandria will also be present when we speak of what it is your coalition needs from the queen’s blades.” The valsharess then chuckles and smirks flirtatiously. ”The more the merrier as the dwarves are fond of saying.” With that said, she turns to cavort with the rest of the ball, and yet from the way she walked Kouri couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath all of that flirtatious veneer was a deadly predator waiting for the right victim to entangle in her web. ”Ugh...” She mutters as Liveria’s princess approaches her side, staring at the drow queen. ”Are you okay Kouri?” Sh asks softly as Kouri nods. ”Yes, I just feel disgusting now. I could use a nice, cold bath after that.”

---

The Amazons: Introduction

---

((Note: You may want to read the others before this one. It’s essentially a “conclusion” as well as an intro for the Amazons.))

As the evening sun finally and slowly began to dip behind the city’s large walls, the last of the envoys finally arrived. The Amazonian troupe was little more than a pack of fifty or so women, carrying a variety of weapons and tribal trinkets with them. Each of them were carrying travel packs, even the blatant leader of the group, who stood ahead of the rest. The princess of the Amazons herself had come to see this blasted world of stone and civilization. The crowds had dispersed somewhat, though the remainder stared, many in a mixture of wonder and lust at such exotic women. They said nothing, and kept to themselves, avoiding the great displays of power and wealth that others had thrown out for gravitas. Wasted resources, in the mind of an amazon.

Still. Without delay or ruckus, they reached the keep’s guards. The younger man was still recovering from his traumatizing experience earlier, while the older man stood wearily, looking over the Amazons. ”... Finally.” He says with irritation as he motions them inside. Some of the women stayed outside and nodded to each other, each diverging to a different part of the city. Likely to explore it and report back their findings to their princess later, not that there was anything particularly secretive about the capital to discover.

Still. The entire ball room--underdark coalition, liverian, renaltan, free holder and goblin holder, all of them--stopped and stared at the strange and yet fascinating appearance. The few amazons that joined their princess were decked out in full leather armour, each painted individually with a series of otherwise indecipherable and unintelligible tribal symbols. The princess, however, was something altogether different. Standing in what looked like plate mail, but lighter, and with a dark red tone, the drake scale covered woman glared at the Free Holders in particular. Raising her staff high, a few droplets of blood strike the floor of the ball as Amanda the Archmage glanced at Kouri with concern. ”When next you send an assassin, send someone that does not smell of the rot that contaminates your people.”

Rashad steps out from the crowd, humbly kneeling before the rather aggressive princess. ”My lady, please, why would I dare stoop to such lows with you? Think about it. I have my own causes. My own battles to wage within my own people... Why would I dare start a war with yours? Your enemies are the same as my own, Amazon.” The princess furrows her eyebrows, and then waves Rashad off, choosing to believe his feeble tale. ”I am Princess Ethlinn, of the Amazonian people. I am a shaman, and I am here not only to enjoy in the generous hospitality of the people of Renalta...” Her eyes wander to queen Alexandria, a spark of interest instantly appearing in the amazon’s eyes. ”...But to later ask for your help in exchange for our loyalty.”

Crown-Prince Xavier rolls his eyes as he steps out from the crowd, his cold stare matching that of the one the princess gave him. ”Amazon, we are all here to ask for help. We merely are celebrating that the queen’s blades are competent at their jobs first. After all, it is a feat to save an entire village.” The amazon steps forward, slowly approaching Xavier, who in turn approaches her back until they are standing closely to one another. ”My concerns might save the lives of thousands.” The princess whispers to him, though loudly enough that with the deafening silence of the ball room, everyone knew what she had said. ”As could mine.” Xavier replied, his cold, hard stare not leaving him. ”However, we must allow at least some room for hope and celebration... We need to allow ourselves to get to know each other, trust each other, so that the nine hells cannot turn us against one another.” The princess seems to think about it for a few moments before nodding in agreement. ”Fair enough, liverian.”

Queen Kouri steps out into the middle of the ball room, and looks around at all the starring faces. So many different peoples, cultures. ”It is true. There are pressing matters to attend to.” She begins her speech as she takes a deep breath, commanding attention with the way she stood, and spoke. ”Some of us are traditionally allies.” Her eyes wander to the Eternal Empress of the Imperium. ”Some, enemies.” She then turns to face Taigyn and the rest of the Templar Order, of Rheinfeld. ”However, we are all united by a common cause. I will keep it blunt and simple: We want to survive. We want to preserve our ways of life, and see our families and friends safe and sound. I won’t lie to you. Sacrifices will be made.” Alexandria walks over to Kouri’s side, and grasps her hand gently, ushering her to continue.

Squeezing Alexandria’s hand tightly, Kouri does, her voice growing with determination. ”Even in the defence of Arian village, some of our own fell in the line of battle. Two did not make it home. One, a brave liverian, and the other, a courageous dweller from the underdark. However, their sacrifices were not in vain. The bombs were all disarmed, all the civilians were saved, and we captured a powerful demon child of Sloth, as well as her guardian.” She looks around the room. ”We have names for our enemies now. We know what some of their tactics are now. We know what to look for to detect them.” As her eyes wander to Taigyn, he joins in on the speech giving, pride swelling within him. ”I travelled with the queen once before, and she defeated impossible odds against a force that everyone thought was invincible.” He avoided directly naming the gods as an adversary, knowing that it might upset some of the templar in the room if he did. ”That was with a handful of misfits and outcasts. Now she has an entire nation backing her, and I trust her.” He bows his head and presses a fist to his chest. Xavier nods in agreement as he looks to Kouri. ”We have had our disagreements, but I also trust you... As a... Friend.” His thinly veiled frown meant little as he bowed his head anyway. ”Without her, the Imperium would no longer exist. We, too, as formal allies to the state of Renalta, would place our trust in this woman.” The Eternal Empress bows her head, though Florence does not.

While everyone else seems amazed by the amount of trust placed in this one woman, none of them followed suit. Kouri clears her throat and continues where she left off. ”So.” She turns to face the princess of the Amazons, who was awestruck by the sheer amount of power that had just sworn itself to Kouri’s cause. ”After this night of celebration and introductions is through, and we all have rested, tomorrow, on a fresh day, I will address all of your concerns. I will then leave it in the hands of our perfectly capable Blades to decide what is of the utmost importance.” She then smiles softly. ”Speaking of.” She points to certain places around the room. One by one, on cue, Amanda summoned lights to shine on each of the Queen’s Blades. Both those that had been at the Arian invasion, and those that had just joined recently or were simply absent from the battle. ”These are the Queen’s Blades. They are all here protecting you, and are all available to be spoken with for the entire duration of the ball.”

Finally, she takes a deep breath and sighs softly. “I saved this world from oppression once, and I will do so again. So long as we stand together, we’ll make it through whatever crises shall come up against us over the next few weeks and months.” Finally, she bows her head, signifying that her small speech on the spot was over. The entire ball room relaxed as the amazonian princess approached queen Alexandria. Kneeling down on one knee, she pulls a ceremonial short blade off of her waist and offers it to her. ”I decided that if I should be begging for help, I should at least bring gifts of common courtesy.” Alexandria takes it, and after a few brief words with Kouri and a gentle kiss, is left to speak with the amazonian princess while Kouri meandered about the rest of the ball room.

Intermission: Maeven and Meryl Slothchild

---

Deep within the interior of Renalta's castle, a staircase led into the dungeon. A fairly dark, cold place, with several cells, though surprisingly vacant of torture equipment for one reason or another. At the end of the rows of cells was the largest cell, intended for noble prisoners or otherwise. Still, it should only have the most basic amenities, and yet, there it was, covered in toys, a few drawings. Mostly stuffed animals and the like. Meryl herself was sitting alone, against a back wall, the colourful environment had faded almost to a grey as she hung her head, legs drawn up to her chest. She was miserable, for some reason, despite obviously showing signs of happiness earlier with the toys.

Maeven had been asking after what had happened to the child who she encountered on her adventure at the West Tower. She had seen Fafnir fixed and had found herself wondering more and more what the fate of the child was. As it would happen, upon learning about the dungeon home, she was horrified. A small feeling of dread had come over her. Now it was, with a kitten she had picked up from the streets in arms, that she was working her way down to the dungeons to see what was going on. She had made a promise to the girl that she would get a ride upon Fafnir.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as she descends the stairs, deeper and deeper into the dank dungeon that brought on memories of home and her old workshop. A chill runs down her spine remembering what she had done and she strokes comfortingly over the kitten's head. As she approaches the dungeon, she clears her throat to get the attention of the jailer. “I'm here to see Meryl, the child from the attack on Arian... Would you allow me in with her for a time?”

The jailer, a young woman with short blonde hair, nods as she motions towards the cell. There was a scar across her throat, implicating that she could not vocalize things. Still, telepathically she communicated to Maeven. "The child's guardian is being interrogated. Be wary. She did not seem to take it well."

Maeven nods, appreciative for the information as she goes over to the cell and waits for it to be opened for her. As it is, the mechanist walks in, still cradling the kitten in her arms as she approaches Meryl, “Hey there tyke... Doing alright?”

The jailer opened the cell slowly, allowing Maeven inside before closing the door behind her and locking it. She then stood a few feet away, ready to move in at a moment's notice. Meryl looked up, seeing Maeven she hesitated before unfurling from self-cradling. "... Is that a kitty?" She asked with piqued curiosity, seeing the orange fur she smiled. "C-Can I hold it?"

Maeven nods and offers the kitten over gently, “Mmhmm, but be gentle with it, its just a baby still.” She gets onto her knees to supervise, eyes scanning over the toys curiously.

The toys were variously coloured, stuffed dolls, though disturbingly, many looked like they were either sleeping or dead. Closer examination showed it was a scene of some sort. At a small table were three dolls in particular, two were recognizable: Meryl and Gustavo. Across from Meryl however was a third figure, a tall figure, wrapped in metal plates and leather covering every inch of its skin. Its hands were claws and its eyes glowed with a light red, staring at Meryl wherever she went. Looking back, Meryl was petting the kitten, nuzzling against it gently even as the kitten purred. "It is so weak..." Meryl says, with concern in her voice. "... It should be bigger, shouldn't it?"

Maeven shrugs, “It'll get bigger as it grows up. Right now, it is just perfect, though.” She smiles and inches a little away from the toys as they were sort of disturbing her. She reaches out and ruffles Meryl's hair softly, “Just like some day, you should get bigger too, I bet.”

"Mm..." She pets the kitten underneath his chin, and he continues to purr happily. Then, without warning, she rests both of her hands on each of the kitten's sides, and looks him over, much to his confusion. "It -is- cute, buut... What if something attacks it?" Looking at the tail, a curious look crosses her eyes. "...What if we changed the tail... To have spines!"

Maeven's face lights up with intrigue for the briefest of instants before she reluctantly shakes her head. “Well, if something attacks it, then maybe it should have someone to protect it.” She reaches out and lightly taps Meryl upon the nose, “Like you and your big friend, Gustav. You don't look like you could take much in a fight, but Gustav sure does a good job of trying to keep you safe.” She smiles a tad and winks, “Sometimes, it's alright to just be soft and cute.”

"But if I can't protect it... And it can't defend itself... It will... 'Die'." She frowns as the kitten mews, prompting her to nuzzle it further.

Maeven pauses for a moment before inching a little closer. “It's still a baby, though... Small... But...” She reaches out, taking a hold of a tiny paw before pressing along its pads, “It still has claws, and its tiny kitten teeth...” She looks at Meryl, uncertainty apparent on her expression, “Sometimes, though, there's no way to avoid death. We can try, but all things natural meet there end...” She pauses, “Everything... But that doesn't mean we should change them because of what we might want.” Her eyes move along the spine of the cat to its tail. “Would you be able to change the kitten if you really wanted to?”

"Well, yes." Meryl says stubbornly as she, too, looks the kitten over. He mews as she drops him. He lands on the ground with a light thud, then holds up its front left paw, having hurt it as he was still young and clumsy. Meryl stares in curiosity. "What's wrong? Why does he hold his paw up like that?"

Maeven makes a gentle tut-tut and caresses soothingly over the kitten's back, “He must have hurt his poor widdle paw just now... You're a lot bigger and tougher than this little guy, you have to be gentler, Meryl.” She smiles a little sadly, “Have you never hurt yourself? Fallen down and scuffed your knee, bumped into something a bit too hard?”

"No." She says plainly. "... Did I break his fuzzy paw?" She reaches out only to see the kitten recoil from her hand. Frowning she gently caresses his hurt paw. "I am sorry Edgar."

The Mechanist furrows her brow as she draws her knees up to her chest, watching the kitten and girl. “You are a curious child... But, yeah... You have to be careful up here in the mortal realm. Animals, like little Edgar,” she smiles fondly at the name, “And people too, we can all break and get hurt. And it can take a long time for us to get fixed... I don't know, but I think you might be able to get hurt too here. You're lucky the game with me and the others ended like it did because of that sprite... You, Gustav, all of us, we could have got very hurt.” She reaches up, hand brushing over the scratch on her face because of Meryl. “This here is just a little scrape, but it could have been much worse... My dragon, Faf, he's only alive because he's a spirit in a fake body... Those demons you brought, and Gustav, they were out to hurt us for real... Did you really want that when you started your game?”

"Mm... No." She says, squirming a little. "James told me the mortal realm was like the nine hells, people could just be remade..." She frowns. "He lied..."

“Yeah, yeah he did... But you know better, now...” Maeven furrows her brow before moving to sit beside Meryl, letting herself slump down all the way to the floor and resting her head back against the stone wall as she glances sidelong at the girl. “I can't tell you that I know everything, Meryl, and the Gods know, I've made mistakes in my life.. But I'm trying to do better now... And I think you might have a chance to try better too, as you come to know things.” She pauses before swallowing nervously, “James hurt a lot of people, and he tried to get you to do the same... But, I think you might be able to do some good, given the chance. Like with Edgar... I think he could use a new momma. Do you think you can help take care of him?”

"Momma?" Meryl asks curiously.

Maeven considers this before moving forward, “A woman who takes care of their baby... A guy who does that would be a daddy?” She did not quite feel like trying to explain the birds and the bees or all the other convoluted stuff right about now.

She blinks. "Caretaker! Sloth said Gustavo is mine..." She immediately frowns despite the purring kitten who nuzzles on her lap.

The Tulerian woman ruffles her hair, “Do you know what they're doing to Gustavo?”

"Talking." Meryl replies, though she narrowed her eyes as she tightened her grip around the scuff of Edgar's neck, not dangerously though concerning nonetheless. "I think they are lying too. Just like James."'

Maeven scratches her cheek, looking at Meryl. “I think it might be important that they talk right now, Meryl... There's some bad stuff going on right now, and we need information... And hopefully Gustavo can give us some, otherwise, some innocent people could get hurt...” She sighs and lightly nudges the sloth-child. “I'm going to try and get you and Gustavo out of here... but it might require you and Gustavo having to listen to a few rules from the Queens here... Do you think you can do that?”

Her eyes widen as she looks around her cell. The colours brighten slightly. "Really?!... Can I keep Edgar too?" She lifts him up again, and quietly a small, blue ribbon appears, acting like a collar on his head. "... No spine tail, I promise!... And... Something for his paw?..."

Maeven nods, “We'll get something for Edgar's paw...” She tousles Meryl's hair, “I'll have you out of here soon, the both of you... I promised you a ride on my dragon, didn't I?” She smirks and winks, going to stand up.

"With Edgar!" Meryl says with a bright smile as Edgar adds in a happy purr, likely not comprehending what Meryl was happy about.

Maeven smiles, “With Edgar...” She stretches her legs, moving over to the edge of the cell and gesturing for the guard to let her out. “I'll come back and visit soon, Meryl.”

"Please, do!" Looking back, Maeven would see another doll in her likeness at the mini table, along with a plushie cat. "... Please..."

Her smile drops as she casts her gaze away, feeling terrible. As she guard approaches, she drops her voice down low so just the guard could hear, assuming Meryl did not have a matching sense of hearing for her power. “Take care of the child... She didn't know any better...”

The blonde guard nods, but adds nothing else. No promises.

Meryl on the other hand stares after Maeven, at the bars, kitten mewling with concerns.

Maeven tenses as she hears the mewls, turning back, “I promise, I'll come back... And I'll make sure you're out of that cell.” With that, she bows her head and takes off, moving from a jog as she gets out of sight of Meryl to a full-out run as she goes in search of the Queen. She wouldn't let the child rot in some dungeon like a criminal. She was just a kid...

She finds Kouri alone on an upper floor, playing on a piano slowly and softly. It was a gentle, though remorseful tune.

Maeven falters in her steps, uncertain of how to address the queen before taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. “Queen Kouri, I have something to discuss with you...”

Kouri abruptly stops playing the piano and looks back at Maeven. Slightly surprised, she motions Maeven to a nearby seat. "Come in. What do you need?"

Licking her lips nervously, the Mechanist moves over across from Kouri and takes her seat. With a sigh, she raises her head, “It's about Meryl, the child taken prisoner from our defense of the West Watch Tower.”

The Queen hesitates before returning to playing her piano slowly. "What about her do you wish to discuss?"

Maeven takes a deep breath, trying to steel herself. It was not every day one was in the presence of a queen, leave alone about to make a personal plea of them. It was making her legs shake and her palms sweat, which she awkwardly runs over her pants. With a weak, wavering voice she starts, “I would like to see her free of that cell. Her and her guardian, both. It's no place for a child, especially one who had no idea what she was doing at the time... I've had a chance to talk to her... And I honestly believe she was being utilized as a puppet of James', driven on by falsehoods, manipulative of her own innocence to our realm.”

"Truly soft." Kouri states as she stops playing the piano again with a small sigh. "However, two things you fail to account for. One, she is just as much protected from those whose lives she threatened, who might want revenge. Two, she is a twelve year old girl with seemingly little knowledge of the real world with enough power to kill several armed men in a temper tantrum." She looks at Maeven and frowns sympathetically. "Child though she may be, she is also incredible dangerous, Maeven."

Maeven raises her chin, feeling more than a little angered, “She can protect herself if that happened... She disabled that bomb as soon as I went to do anything with it, without even having to try... And even if she could do that, I don't think she would, not now. She can learn, Queen Kouri, and she understands when we talk with her and give her a background.” She clutches the arms of the chair, furrowing her brow, “And yes, she can be incredibly dangerous, but the same can be said of several of the Blades, ones I'm sure you have no hard guarantee of their loyalties should a conflict of interests happen...”

She swallows, beginning on a different path, “Besides... I'm sure you heard... This child has an association with Sloth... Her and her caretaker. They could prove invaluable assets in the time to come... The demonlord must hold her dear, to not only hold such intimate conversation with her, but to assign her a caretaker as well...” She chews the inside of her cheek, “Keeping her happy, could be an asset with the reports of raising demon skirmishes and prove to assist in keeping her amiable... You think she can't escape that prison if she wanted?... If she were, how many would have to die because we could not grant her a small token of freedom and instead she grows restless and scared?”

"She would not make it five feet out of that cell." Kouri remarks coldly before looking at Maeven, slight annoyance was starting to creep into her voice. "Besides. You saw it, I am sure. She is so naive about the real world. With so much power... I need to know more about her before I can judge what would be safe and what wouldn't be. That won't happen until the interrogation of Gustavo is completed."

Maeven grimaces, raising her hand up to ruffle her hair, “Just don't leave her cooped up like that, My Queen. No one should have to live like that.” She works her jaw, teeth gnashing, “I don't care if its just about the palace, but she's still a kid you've locked into a dungeon. If not in power, then in mind and body.” She sighs and readjusts, “Interrogate Gustavo, find out what you can, but I made a promise to her. Two, now, that demand her release.. I'll look after her, if that's the problem. I'll be held accountable for her actions.”

"You should not make promises you cannot keep." Kouri says as she plays the piano slowly once more, perhaps with even more remorse than before. "I will consider it."

Maeven stands up and gives a stiff curtsey. “Thank you... For considering it, at least.” She bites back her comments, intending to attack the Queen for her own inability to follow her own ideals. It would seem there was little in that way to go along. Nobles never took well to insult. “Please, don't make me a liar to Meryl...”

"Understand, this is for her own good." She says softly as she easily spots Maeven's agitation. "I am aware you visited her. She might learn quickly, but she still has significant power and little to no training in how to control it." The tune turns darker as her fingers glide down the piano's keys into the lower octaves. She was making it up as she went along. "Besides. You have innocent blood on your hands in exchange for your knowledge and power. You, of all people, should understand my caution in wanting to ensure that a twelve year old with great power doesn't have to deal with that on her conscience. Atop everything else that comes with being twelve, in a completely foreign land."

Maeven fidgets, unnerved by the truth laid out before her, yet she bows her head. “So I was right to think you had your research done upon each and every one of us...” She sighs and raises her head, “Then you understand my want for this child to have a second lease on life, and why I cannot stand by so idly when I see this child imprisoned.” She lowers her head, a faint tremble to her small form. “I grasp your... desires for holding her prisoner... Your... reasoning is sound, but still... At the cost of what?... I would hate to see this kingdom begin slipping in its ideals in order merely to handle the threat against us all.” She licks her lips, looking at Kouri, “After all, there's enough monsters out there without us having to emulate them. I know I was one of them.”

"If you really think this behaviour monstrous, you must think the world to be a terrifying place." Kouri sighs and the tune turns somewhat lighter. "As I said. I will consider it. Oh, and, as for values..." She leans back a little, taking a temporary break from playing to look at Maeven. "She did threaten the lives of many people over a game."

Maeven furrows her brow, “Isn't it a terrifying place?... Not everywhere is as ideal as Renalta, and from what I hear, that is after the oppression of one unstoppable force... And there is another yet rising, its presence growing.” She furrows her brow, “And she did... But only when James lied to her and said people could be fixed. She already realizes the fault in that due to my own conversations with her and she regrets those actions.”

"You still don't see it? She is listening to you. Blindly. Just as she listened to James. Blindly. She is a naive young woman in a world you consider terrifying, where even my actions to you seem morally questionable. And you want to unleash her into that?" She says skeptically as she returns to playing the piano. "If I let her out, it will only be on castle grounds."

Maeven crosses her arms and nods, “Then that is something...” She sighs, “And yes, surely she listens to me, but what other choice does she have locked away from others. She cannot learn and choose her own way if we give her no context... And the world is full of terrors, but its the one we have. And we learn to stand against them.” She offers a bitter smile, “Isn't that how we forge a path to a new day? Conquering Gods and rallying soldiers to a cause? Mortals, heh, we just can't help but lift a stick to what lays in the dark, even if it is far larger and fiercer than ourselves.” She smiles slightly, remembering something similar Fafnir had said to her.

"This still isn't some just a teenager discovering the world and you know it isn't that simple."

“Is anything ever?” the mechanist states counterpoint before curtseying once more, “I've said all I can in my plea to you and anything more is just wasting your time. Have a pleasant evening, my Queen.”

As Maeven leaves, Kouri continues to play the piano. When it was certain that she was alone, Mikan slips out from the dark, looking at Kouri curiously. "Should I keep an eye on her?" Kouri nods. "For now."

As Maeven makes her way back down the halls, she stops by the medical room to procure some supplies for a very small patient. From there, she continues back on her descent into the palace, back down into the dungeons where she nods to the guard in passing before approaching the cell of Meryl once more. Her expression is downcast as she looks in at the girl, “Hey there, little buddy...”

"Hi!" Meryl says with a Chipper tone of voice as she sees Maeven approach. Edgar was napping on the mini tea table. "Be Veeery quiet. He is tired."

Maeven waits for the guard to open the gate once more before entering, doing her best to quiet the faint jangling of her gear by holding a silencing hand to them. As she moves in, she holds up the medical supplies for Meryl to see and whispers, as instructed, “I thought maybe we could see to Edgar's paw...” She smiles faintly, looking about the dungeon once more. She closes her eyes, trying to drown out Kouri's voice. It was unnerving to her to have to not only face down her past mistakes but also speak up like that to someone of such social standing. For the best, perhaps. It could be seen as insight for how to better handle the world leaders rumored to be coming to the ball.

"Yeah, okay." Meryl says as she gently lifts her kitten from the mini table. He mews out in slight irritation but quickly purrs as she nuzzles him.

Maeven carefully takes the kittens paw, making a small kitty splint and wrapping it tenderly. “I talked with the Queen about getting you out of here,” she murmurs.

"Oh?" Meryl inquires curiously as she watches her kitten inspect his splint, nibbling it and licking it.

Maeven nods, “She might allow you to explore about the castle grounds... Do you think that is something you could accept?”

"Well yeah!" She says with a giggle. "Better than being alone..."

Maeven nods, a slight smile on her face, “Well, good... Cuz I might have to go before too long... I'm one of the Queen's Blades... And just like the other day, I might have to go and help save people. I think it'd be better than leaving you all by yourself... But, I think Gustavo should be free to spend time with you again, just as soon as he helps the Queens.” She pauses before reaching out, ruffling Meryl's hair. “Think you can be a good kid when I'm gone?”

"Uhh... I can try?" She says with uncertainty as the sounds of an approaching pair of high heels ring through the dungeon. Amanda stares at them through the cell bars. "Good, because I'm here to help you with that."

Maeven looks up at Amanda, eyes going wide and swallowing and tries to stay calm beneath her gaze. “Ah, you're... You're Amanda... A-aren't you?”

"Yes. Kouri sent for me." Amanda says softly as Gustavo follows a few feet behind her, accompanied by a pair of guards. "I will be helping you learn, Meryl." Gustavo looked exhausted, but unharmed.

Maeven pauses before nodding. “Then I bet there's no one better who she could learn from...” Her gaze drifts over the Meryl as she starts to bite the nail of her thumb. “You'll take good care of her, right?... And I'll get to visit her still?... I told her I'd take her for a ride on Fafnir...”

"Of course." Amanda says as she opens the cell door. Gustavo immediately walks inside, then pauses as Meryl tackles him and nuzzles against his chest. "I missed you so much~" Amanda looks at them as Gustavo looks back and nods. Amanda motions for Maeven to leave the cell.

Maeven pauses, watching the reuniting of the duo for a moment before leaving the cell. She does not wait before she begins to head back towards the exit to the dungeon. They had things handled for now, and it was likely for the better things were out of her hands now.

Before Maeven can get out if sight, Meryl yells after her. "Hey Maeven!!" Looking back, Meryl held her kitten above her head as he mewled loudly. "Thank you! Please don't forget me!"

Maeven hesitates for a moment, a shudder running down her spine. She bites her lip, fully aware that she may not make it back from the next set of missions, “Of course I won't! Don't forget me either, though! We'll play next time, alright?”

"Okay!"

The ball-Alicia Le'roux, Hanus Wolfblood, Crown-Prince Xavier and Mila

---

The brightness of the spotlight managed to dazzle the Vampire’s unhidden silver eyes: causing spots to form in her vision which she tried to blink away. After a moment of regaining her composure, she stares down at the gathered assembly with a barely masked mysticism. Such a group of obviously prominent figures, gathered in honour of the blades and, by extension, her.

She slightly shifted the weight of her footing, trying to get comfortable in the courtly dress. It was a deep purple colour, almost nightshade in colour, with a number of white ‘stars’ to complete the motif. Despite the pomp and showy-ness, she wore at her hip a silver rapier. Most would consider it an accessory, and she was thankful that Xavier set a precedent by carrying his own weapon on display: she felt uneasy being disarmed in such a large crowd.

She waited for the queen and the Amazon princess to stop speaking, and for the queens to begin walking around the ball, before she left the pedestal at last. She knew who she was seeking out: after all, he had an agenda and a promise to keep. It would hardly be fitting to keep the general waiting.

Standing amongst several of the other nobility, though mainly a mix of the drow, renaltan, and imperial nobility, he looked mildly uncomfortable. Dressed in high quality silk and wool, with a primarily black colour scheme save for green patches on his shoulders, he adjusted the few medals on the upper left half of his chest almost obsessively. Even his hair, normally a little unkempt from one physical activity or another amongst his men, was instead combed back. The way he stood, shoulders raised, back straight, indicated that of just another nobleman, rather than the berserker that raged underneath his skin.

Spotting the approaching Alicia, he sized her up and raised an eyebrow, repressing a smirk as he did so. “You just cannot part with thy rapier, can you?” He said with a voice that almost made him sound like an entirely different person from the one she met in the barracks. “We nobles fancy ourselves above such barbarism.” A rather pompous looking renaltan nobleman stated as Hanus knocked him aside to reach Alicia’s side. “I think she looks wonderful, though that should be expected of one of Diana’s upper class… Working women.” He says, the smirk finally breaking through.

Alicia smirked at both Hanus and the noble’s attempts to greet her with insults and indignation. She had expected at least some of the banter to come, but she had to admit: so quickly was a minor surprise. She decided to keep her calm this time, as opposed to charging in like an over-eager bull. “Hanus, you look positively dashing. It honestly surprises me that one of Malaki’s brutes could clean the blood off their paws long enough to look so presentable.” She nods at the Renaltan nobleman, not even bother to acknowledge him in her moment of verbal riposte. “I expected you to keep better company though, might I suggest myself?” She offered Hanus a smile, trying her best to at least play polite. She knew the general would likely keep up the bloodline snark until she truly bested him. She would learn to just take it in her stride, though. He was right about her pride being a weakness, and if this is what it took to conquer it, then she would.

“Of course.” Hanus says, though as he grasps for her hand and bows slightly, kissing her fingers. The Renaltan nobleman looks disgusted as he turns away, though judging by his waist, it was certainly no great loss for Alicia. Hanus then speaks quietly as he looks about the ball room. “You are not experienced in the gatherings of nobles, I can tell.” His hand was cold, unlike hers that mimicked life functions. Notable, his hands were also gloved. “Nobles speak in the language of… Allusion. They always veil insults with enough language barriers that they can proclaim innocence should they get a rise out of their opponent.” He then starts to subtly lead her towards Crown-Prince Xavier, as he had his own agenda in mind. “Just as I insulted you in our duel. It made you angry, and it caused you to make mistakes which through my own sort of veil, I used to obtain victory.”

Alicia smiles at the display of Hanus kissing her fingers, well aware that it was merely a formality, but enjoying the attention, none-the-less. When the Renaltan noble was gone, she speaks in a similarly hushed tone. “Forgive me if it comes across as rude, General: but perhaps you underestimate me. I was more than happy to ‘get the rise’ of that particular noble. Although I imagine it is thoughts of you, not I that will be doing that, later.”

Noting how rapidly Hanus was steering them towards Xavier, Alicia felt a growing lump form in the back of her throat. The last time she had seen or spoken to Xavier, she had been effectively banished from Liveria with the task of representing the state’s nobles amongst the blades. To meet him again so soon was daunting, if nothing else. “Lets get this over with. I would prefer not to be at the forefront of Xavier’s mind, come the end of this evening.”

Hanus had neither the time or apparent inclination to try and teach her further social mannerisms that he didn’t appear to particularly care for in any great measure. So, without further adieu, he silently reaches Xavier’s backside and then whispers quietly, “hello Xavier.” The man is startled as he turns on his heels, then spots the pair of silver eyes mere inches from his face. “General.” He states with slight annoyance as he looks at Alicia. “...And you, how is the life of the blades treating you, vampire?”

Alicia looks at the man without a smile on her lips. Xavier was a very real threat to her, and one she couldn’t deal with in any normal manner. He controlled her fate, and he could easily toss it aside like so much waste from a chamber pot. “The blades treat me well, your excellency. I am still humbled by the chance you have given me.” She offers a bow of her head to Xavier, silently hating the fact she had to act in such a way in front of the General, no less.

Hanus squeezes Alicia’s hand reassuringly, then lets it go as he takes one step closer to Xavier, causing him to take one step back. A power move, of sorts, though it disguised the real intention: To get himself between Alicia and Xavier. “I have a question for you… I have received reports that witch hunters have been traversing the border and killing vampires.” Hanus raises an eyebrow as he kept his tone hushed, to prevent half the ball room from staring at them. “Why, you would not happen to know about this, would you?” Xavier crosses his hands behind his back and tilts his head slightly. “Witch hunters? You are certain?”

Alicia feels a growing sense of gratitude towards Hanus, in both his support and his mere presence. The way in which he stepped between herself and Xavier was no small comfort, and she would have breathed a sigh of relief, were she not forgetting to breath. She had found that in times of extreme stress, she forgot some of the more human aspects of her disguise: breathing being one of them.

Yet, being the damsel in distress suited her ill. She was not the sort who would abide by taking a back seat, even when it would probably be more beneficial if she did. She stepped up beside Hanus, head still lowered before the Crown-Prince. “The reports identified them as Witch-hunters, your lordship: in the east grasslands, I doubt many could imitate their skill.”

“True.” Xavier said as he took another step back, looking somewhat uncomfortable in front of the pair of undead that stood imposingly on him. Without needing to say a word, Mila arrives at his side and stares at the pair. Behind her glasses came an icy glare at the both of them. “No witch hunters have been performing authorized tasks beyond our own borders, save in the mountains, which are unclaimed by any nation.” Her eyes wander to Alicia. “Why does this one bow so much?” Hanus narrows his eyes. “Do you not recognize one of your own?” Mila raises an eyebrow. “Technically I am a foreigner, excuse my mistake, fair woman.” She says, bowing her head briefly to Alicia. “Still. It is unnecessary.”

Alicia was slow to raise her head, feeling uncomfortable in the company of giants. Her posture was over-straightened, making her appear a half as uncomfortable as she was. “My apology. I am afraid I am a little overwhelmed. I am hardly used to being at such prodigious events: especially ones that celebrate the success of an group I am a part of.” She offered a slight smile to Mila. “I suppose I am a relatively small fish, in the grand scheme of Liveria’s court: I have yet to do anything truly noteworthy.”

Mila looks at Alicia and smiles slightly. “Aren’t we all just small fish.” Xavier looks around the ball room before glaring at Taigyn, though, more specifically, at the Templar Order. “Some of us have sharp teeth the rest should be wary of.” Hanus shakes his head. “We all have teeth.” He then looks at Mila. “You said something funny, though.” Mila cocks an eyebrow, the smile growing a little. “Oh? What entertained you so?” Hanus’ smirk leaves his face as he watches for Mila’s reaction. “A certain word… Authorized.” Mila paused, and Alicia catches it sharply: The way that Mila’s pupils dilated. A give away that a human is trying to avoid something. “Yes. It is true, no authorized witch hunter activity is going on.” Hanus looks at Alicia and nods, giving her the floor.

“Which would indicate that you are both aware of the actions and trying to hide them.” She keeps her eyes locked with Mila’s, her posture looked less uncomfortable now and more focused: it seems she had found her footing, after all. “So are these Witch hunters acting against the will of the crown, or are they fulfilling their intended purposes outside of the borders of Liveria?” She glanced briefly at Hanus, not sure how she was suddenly so involved in the political interrogation. Surely such accusations against a representative of the Crown-Prince could be seen as treasonous? Was she not risking her very life in Liveria here? Her father’s legacy? Her wealth? Her livelihood?

Crown-Prince Xavier was, indeed, unpleased, and glared at Alicia. “How uncharacteristically liverian of you.” It seemed like he was about to continue, but Hanus interrupts him. “She is simply performing her duties as a Queen’s Blade and hunting out potential signs of demon corruption… Last I checked, it was a function also held by your estimable witch hunters.” Xavier doesn’t appear to have anything to add as Hanus continues. “If there is something that has attracted their concern to such a point as to disregard political protocol and begin murdering vampires across the border, most certainly, you could inform us as to why this is?” Xavier looks up at them both with a stone cold look, almost as though incapable of bringing himself to rage, which contrasted against the directness of Hanus’ statements, that came from a great, seething anger underneath his skin. “There is, and I will tell you in private if it so pleases you.” Hanus nods. “It does.” Xavier then looks at Alicia and straightens out his collar, forcing himself to smile a little. “I apologize… I should not go off on a liverian for pursuing corruption. I simply have much to learn still about my… Position.”

That apology having been said, he motions for Mila to join him as he breaks away from the pair, having nothing more to say. Hanus, knowing social protocol, does not pursue them. Instead he pats Alicia’s back. “Well done. We’ll make something out of you yet, overgrown child.”

Alicia was a little shell shocked at the sudden developments. It had happened very quickly: The Prince’s accusations, followed by Hanus’ defence and then Xavier’s apology. It was a very sudden change and in honesty, she wasn’t sure that she’d deserved it. “It seems my view of the world is going to require a great deal of adjusting.” She looked at the General and smiled. “I am thankful for your help, Hanus. I wouldn’t have been able to do that alone.”

“I know that.” Hanus stated bluntly, and without mercy in his tone, though it wasn’t meant to be cruel. “You have a lot of growing to do. In such a short time.” He then looks her over. “I’d be careful. A lot of people would try to use your naive nature with politics to their advantage.” With a chuckle he motions into the crowd. “Now, shall we blend back in with the rest of these important people?”

Alicia paused at Hanus’ words, tempted to lash out but eventually choosing to hold her tongue. Hanus was right, of course. He had yet to prove himself wrong in these accounts, probably because he had dealt with similar ordeals not so distant a time ago. “I fear that I am not the only naive one who will be prone to manipulation.” She presses a thumb and a forefinger against her nose. “I think blending in would be nice: I could do with a drink or three.”

Gala Ball; Rheinfelders and Draza

---

It had felt like so long since Draza had seen so many important people, and almost never so many of them at once. This was a global stage, the big leagues, and as other people meandered and spoke after the grand entrances and speech, Draza had to keep deftly moving for those less accustomed to avoiding someone of her size. Her dress flowed around her form as she did so, restricting her but not too taut until she made her way to her native brothers and sisters, friends, allies, countrymen and those whom she didn’t exactly have the best of relations with always politically or personally. But, they were her people whether they or she liked it, and she was going to do her best to greet them with all due respect before she made her way through the ranks of any other aristocracy, nobility, plutocrat, or otherwise.

Amongst the several various Rheinfelders the republic’s finest sat on the floor together in a circle, each wearing a blue ribbon around an arm or a leg, or in a rare case, a waist or a forehead. They were drinking like most Rheinfelders do, a fine mead or beer. Alida Spiegel watches the approaching Draza with a large, warm grin on her face, though part of that was probably the alcohol doing its job of loosening up her usually tough veneer. “Ah! There’s my favourite sprite!” She says with a jovial tone of voice. Raising her drink, she motions Draza over. “Come! Did you bring any of your wonderful cakes this time? Or just that everlasting cheer of yours?”

“Sweet rolls well enough for you, my most gracious lady, friend, leader?” Draza said as she slipped her shouldered purse a bit forward around the sides of her dress to pull out one such roll. There was a special wonder to her snacks, as they never could spoil a dinner given their relative size. Well, not a normal person’s one at least. The roll was a soft bread made woven with sugar, cinnamon, and pears brought to such softness that a babe could chew threw it using only its gums. The other specialness of the treats were because of the size, she usually had enough to share, and as she skipped over her deft fingers retrieved a collection of them for the pleasure of those around her. “I hope you all have had fair journey and pleasant mornings despite any unpleasantries with the uh,” she leaned forward and lowered her voice as she glanced around for anyone with the defining marks of a Templar, “Riff raff.” She almost bounced off her feet as she shot back to standing and began to hand out her treats proper to those who would partake.

With a roll of her eyes Alida grabs one of the sweet rolls and starts munching away, in quite the unsophisticated manner. So much so that the nobles near her decided to steer clear of her, meandering in different directions. Her men, however, merely laughed, though one blushed and took the chance to stare luridly at her. She either didn’t notice, or didn’t care as she looked to Draza once more. “Naww... The Schwine gave us no problems. Davian maybe, but he’s just jealous Taigyn isn’t nearly the noble manchild he is.” She says with a soft laugh, before looking around the crowd. “Huh. I wonder where he went.”

Draza craned her eyes to look through, well, mostly the legs of the crowd but through the crowd still and found the form of Taigyn off elsewhere, preoccupied at the moment. “He’s with someone else, probably important world saving things. Y’know, like the rest of the ball. Hey, speaking of,” she turned back to Alida, “How’s my favourite part of the world doing?”

Chuckling and grasping the top of the small sprite’s head, she ruffles her hair and then lets go, rolling onto her back and laying down on the stone blocks. “Not so good I’m afraid.” She says quieter. “The papacy has been sending mercenaries at us more so than the Order.” She grimaces. “We’ve been taking casualties.”

Draza shuddered, “I hate knowing that I used to work for and help those guys…” she sighs, mumbling about her own naivety. “The Papacy is being just as bad as the whole ‘armies of doomy demon’ patooy that we’re going to be dealing with globally. Talk about a heel turn…” She really wished that the Papacy would shape up, and stop being so… well, what they are now. “We need to get Rheinfeld sorted out before all heck breaks loose. While it’d be nice if the Papacy could stop being the bad guys and like, reform like the Templar are trying to do, but if that’s not an option, they need to be stopped by some means… even if it’s just cutting off funding to their mercenaries,” Draza thought back to how extravagant the Papacy was, and therefore how deep its coffers likely could go, “Or buying the mercenaries out. I don’t get much from his gig but what I do you can consider yours to any effort of peace.”

“It’s impossible to purchase away the rotten souls of men sold to another when you offer merely an idea.” Alida says with a slight hint of sorrow in her voice. She then looks out into the crowd again, but this time, towards specifically Kouri. “Her idea of a council... That people pick candidates to represent them..." A little bit of a smile reaches her lips. “It is inspiring. We are a country with no royalty. No king. No queen. It has always been the papacy... A military dictatorship holds little appeal... Imagine... Imagine a nation, of people, who ruled themselves.” She stares up at the ceiling, a dreamy look in her eyes that was inspiring to her men, who all sat around eagerly. “The Imperium calls it the senate... But we don’t need an eternal empress. We’re the longest lived nation in this world... We will take the first steps. We are ready for it. For a... A republic.”

Nearby, the sounds of a pair of mailed hands clapping disrupts some of the nearby people, who stop to stare at the situation. “Bravo, wonderful speech.” Davian states, looking at Draza and bowing his head respectfully. “A nation run by commoners who cannot read, and who when faced with the supernatural, turn and flee like... Heretics, to the sword. How impressive our nation would look when vagabonds were done thoroughly looting her, no?”

Draza was quick to retrieve a sweet roll from her pouch and offer it with a respectable bow of her own in return to Davian before even speaking in response to his interruption. She’d mince words with him after offering him his due respect, even if others would disagree with it being due in the first place, “I hope you have found yourself in good spirits on your journey here, most regal Templar Davian, and that you will honour me with accepting my offering of food, however small.”

“Like he would dine from the commoner’s trough.” Alida sneers, her men chuckling. Davian glares at them and then snatches the sweet roll from Draza’s hand. He sniffs it, then eats it in one bite, chewing, his face goes from discontent to surprise. Finishing, he looks at her and nods in appreciation. “Well made! But then, prior to everything falling apart, the papacy even did comment that your food was utterly divine.” Alida’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You are complimenting someone?” Davian looks at her with a smug expression. “When someone does something good for a change, certainly... Ex-Templar.”

Draza looked back and forth between the two and and quietly huffed as if watching two children, before turning her gaze up to Davian, and then down respectfully as she curtsied, “Your compliments are most gracious,” her eyes while low quickly shot again to the seated group around her as she wordlessly mouthed something along the lines of “Please don’t fight right now”. Quickly, her face resumed its referent respectful nature as she turned back up to the Templar second in command, “And,” Draza considered her words carefully, “You do have a fair point about the dream of Republic. While it is a dream I share, I cannot deny that as things are it would not yet function. The commoners are a bread basket, not a legion of scholars, nor a powerful force as the Order.” She quickly put up a hand hoping to Lada that someone would see it and not speak up from either side about that, for now at least. “But, this is not the time for such a matter,” she added an “I think” to that quietly before continuing, “This is a ball, not a war room or diplomatic meeting for specifically our issues. So, Templar Davian, I beseech you a courtesy not for myself, or Rheinfeld, but for everyone present; that we minimize… er… unnecessary conflict for this occasion. As a man of such lineage that could fill a tome of deeds marvellous and grand, let this not be the place for a squabble for you, or anyone else.”

“Heh.” He looks around the ball room, and steps back. “Then you will excuse me. I have little need for conversation with this woman.” Without adding anything further, he leaves and enters the crowd. Turning back to Alida and her men, Draza would notice that her attempt at finding middle ground only serviced to alienate the people sitting with Alida. They were very much commoners, as were most members of the Republic. Alida, too, seemed disappointed, but at least appeared to understand what Draza was trying to do. “... I think we should speak another time, Draza... People don’t like to be reminded of how much others doubt them.”

Draza waited until the man was removed from the conversation before suddenly relaxing immensely. Never pleasant to be around someone who thought themselves so much better. With a turn, she turned to the others. The ones who for all intents and purposes she had just insulted, and did something that she did not do often. With one last gaze cast to make sure she was not being watched by the man, Draza slipped her purse off from her shoulder, placed it on the ground, and got down on the floor to bow as low as she could, messing her dress just a tad as she got onto her hands and knees and her face touched the floor, “I did not for a moment mean to imply that the Republic cannot or will not happen. The commoners,” she stopped shaking her head, “Are not common. I am a commoner, and yet here I am, a Blade and bowing to you.” She turned her head up, “I have only the greatest respect and adoration for the ‘commoner’ because unlike the noble who has been set on a course and is set in their ways, a commoner is not so limited. You provide food now, but with food you provide people. With people, potential. I am not well because of blood or birth or rank, I am well because like every commoner of Rheinfeld, I’m uncommon. We may not yet have the sword of the Order, but the weapon of the Republic is being forged today, and it will cast a shadow upon those who doubted, and slay those who dare attempt to crush the commoner. We may not have their ancient libraries, but we can and will build our own. I know that I have in my attempt of peace slighted you and I do not expect an ‘atta girl’ for civility, but I do hope you understand that while he’s right in some ways, he is wrong in almost every other. You do not run as heretics from the sword, and you do not hide behind your name. You’ve stood strong against many forces that others would contend you not capable of doing so.”

She lowered her head once more to each of them, “I’m sorry that I misspoke, and made any of you feel less extraordinary than you are. You may be commoners, but you are anything but common,” she stopped to breathe deep, and sighed out soothingly as the passion in her words calmed, “Please, I beg your forgiveness.”

There was a moment of silence between them all before Alida merely shrugged and raised her glass of beer. “To the commoner then! Replaceable, but never forgettable!” The others join her in drinking to their heart’s content. There was not much else left to be said.

And that was all Draza needed. With an exaggerated huff, she bounced up as fast as she could without damaging the dress. “Lada de da,” she mumbled as she tried to make herself be more presentable. Her voice turned up to normal volume and tone, “Don’t suppose you’ve got one in a small size.”

“No.” Alida says sharply as she looks at her men. The one who was earlier infatuated with her stared dumbfounded as she looked at him. “Get us another drink.” He nods, and bolts into the crowd. “Funny young man.” Alida says with a chuckle as she pats the ground beside her. “For now you can share my glass, Draza.”

Draza reached a hand out in the direction of the man as he went before lowering it, “He didn’t… oh well, I’m sure uh, he could use the exercise?” She shook her head, “You do me a great service by sharing your drink with me so personally. I’d wager some would be jealous.” She couldn’t even say that with a straight face, as she immediately broke into giggles as she sat down next to Alida.

“Maybe.” She says as she drinks a little more. Though her men drank far more often than she did, already stumbling about and laughing. Alida, on the other hand, kept alert. Maybe due to training. Maybe not.

Draza enjoyed her time with her people for a bit, doing better, so she hoped, to not step on toes until finally after some time she excused herself to go seek out and converse with others.

Dressing room, Child

”Miss. Please stand still. You are hurt!” The medic tending to her was in a state of panic. The youn half-blood was not taking the whole dress up for ball well. She had hollared and protested. She had gone from back to life and in shock to being a dressup doll. There was also people mistaking her for Dianas brood due to her Mask. Not that she had any idea who that lot were. But she didn't like being reffered to someone that belonged to anyone. So now she was dealing with a bunch of maids, a healer and sewstress. They had apprently sewn her a entire dress during her deep sleep. How they took her measurements so well she could only speculate in, and the more she did the angrier she got. Child was not strictly, a girl or a boy. And this had clearly not been accepted by her 'benefactors.' They consistently tried to get her wear frilly things. Her protests were soffocated as they suddenly snared the corset tight. Her still healing ribs screamed and she lost her breath.

”GNuuhhh-stooop!” She finally cried out, grabbing one of the mads by the wrist and janking her close. She had somehow taken the scissor of the seamstress in the same motion and held it against the poor womans face. She was close to feinting. The Healer, clearly made of sterner stuff huffed and shook her head. ”You need to rest. Your chest is still recovering”

”Then why, are you, trying, to fit, me in, a GODDAMN CORSET!” Child objected, nearly loosing her temper completely. Somehow, the maids used this moment to snare a silken sash around her waist. The color was not terrible on her, but she looked less then pleased by this. Her scowl beneath the mask would have scared a rabid pitbull. But as the mask firmly hid anything but the rage in her eyes, peoples reactions were less timid even if the whole 'stabby' feeling was enough to keep the less brave ones at a distant..

”Becouse. Began the Healer. ”It's the ball.” Her face was settling ino a motherly frown. It was suprsingly oppressive and disarming. Child lowered the improvised weapon ever so slightly. Her arms crossed she met the eyes of the Healer who had a good 30 kilos on her, and some impressive scars of her own.

”So?” Child inquired, the maids stared at the two. They were cought between two rather scary people.

”Your presence would be appreciated. You are of the Queens Blades. You need to look more... formal. It would not do for you to represent them dressed in a broken piece of leather armor. Not very inspiring.” She wasn't budging, and Child could feel her anger dissepate. She slumped in defeat.

”..Fine” Defeated, Child lost her hostile posture entirely. The maids were on her like welldressed piranhas. Soon enough she had a ballgown fit for nobility, sued in part, by the head maid who was beaming at Child. ”Perfe-” Her words cut short as child tore off the arms, ripped it in places and then demanded a pair of pants. One of the maids fainted, The healer dug her face into her palm and somewhere, a seamstress felt suddenly ill.

The Kingdom of Tuleria: Introduction

---

Collaboration Brovo and Tempest

Latecoming, but still certain to arrive even with the sun already set was the Tulerian procession. They came in three equal lines, divided between the Magi Society, the Aristocracy and the Military. Yet even in this division, they remained unified in their distinct cultural flairs of posh accents, vibrant colors, loose fabrics, feathers and beads. Obvious tension could be noted, each line keeping to themselves and not interacting amongst themselves as they march, heads down and eyes shifting about warily.

The Magi Society, while more at ease apparently than the other two factions, was perhaps the most unified in attire and resorting to simpler robes. At the head stands a man whose eyes, particularly in the dark hours of the night, his eyes were erupt with a white light as he scans his surroundings lazily, pausing even as he stares at solid buildings and people, as if seeing through them.

In the center of the procession was the Aristocratic branch. Unlike the other two legs of the Triumvirate, who had opted for a representative in their higher eschalons to go, such as the Magi Councilman Roarke Bezial, the High King himself leads the way. However, in a tight ring about him, royal guard uncertainly proceed and keep guard, their shields strapped to their arms and their ornamental spears meant for more than show if needbe.

At the center of this ring of guard, High King Boann Hyrill has his face set sternly, as the sparse scale plates on his body rasp from the tension in his muscles. His staff clicks on the ground as he goes, supporting his weight as he limps haphazardly. Also supporting him is a dark-skinned woman, Jezmin, obviously roaming gypsy. She leans in and whispers too softly for anyone but him to hear.

Most agitated, though, would be the Military branch. Most noticeable was the increased number of lizardmen in their midst, many preferring the freedom to fight it offered. They were beginning to grow rowdy and some raise their heads challenging at the mistrusting gazes being cast their ways. The injury to Boann was being blamed greatly upon them, either falling through their security or allowed through. Still, they tried to ignore it and hold their pride intact.

At the head of the military procession was Marcela Adriana Otis. A long name for an ex-pirate, but it was hers nonetheless. Riding on a large lizard she looks back at her men, a mix of lizardmen and soldier, and spits on the dirt in disgust. A rowdy, disorganized lot, and not in the manner that she liked it. On her back was a dragon rocket of sorts. In truth it was simply a magical artifact that shot fireballs which exploded on impact and needed gunpowder for 'ammunition'. Still. she certainly looked attractive enough for most.

"SOLDIERS!" She yells back at them. "Keep your eaye towards t' fore. There will be plenty o' thin's for you t' do here, you need not waste your energy on common bigotry." She hesitates a moment, then thoughtfully adds with a sly tone. "And if you can manage that, I might order your expenses paid for t' night in t' crown jewel o' Renalta." With that said, she ushers her lizard closer to Boann, motioning for a captain to take charge of the formation.

Roarke's attention sharply turns to the display as a cheer surges forth from the military branch. He gives a disapproving look but says naught, he was meant to be an observant eye and had no words to part for the rabble. Boann, though, chuckles and shakes his head, drawing his corded arm about Jezmin as he looks at Marcela. “Well, nice to see Varro sent someone with a little competence. I was more expecting an insult towards Renalta with him choosing a representative with your background. We know how he loathes the pirates.” He clucks his tongue in thought before raising his crested head, nodding at the torch-lit castle before them. “We are going to be making quite a statement already, arriving fashionably late, Admiral Otis. I would hate for things to explode just after we pass through their gates.”

"They won't." She states as she gently rubs her lizard's neck with her knuckles, scratching an itch it seemed as the lizard twitched with momentary happiness. "If they try it, they know I won't hesitate to put them on ship cleaning duty in Port Luclin... And you know how much they would adore trying to clean blood out of wood." Her eyes look up at the keep's guards, they weren't far from the entrance as she clicked her tongue. "I may be an ex-pirate but that just makes me more qualified to keep the rabble in line... As for you..." Her eyes examine the way he limped with a wince. "I am sorry I did not get to the assassin sooner."

Boann narrows his eyes before he rolls his shoulders, “It happens. It should be healed before long, thank my bloodlines.” He looks at the admiral uncertainly before offering a chuckle, “It only means the rumours are true and pushes certain issues forward.”

Roarke harrumphs from the side, “Such as the legitimacy of your place on the throne?”

Jezmin glares at him and with a thick accent that speaks more of the Free Holds combats, “That is not an issue. Not like the archaic dealings of the Mage Guild and the conscription policies it holds.”

With a sigh the admiral looked between them. So even now the squabbling continued. Having learned long ago to abandon any hope of them listening to advice from a military officer, she instead looks to Boann and nods. "Agreed. It does." Still. The pirate in her couldn't keep the tongue silent as she looked at Jezmin. "And maybe others could learn that." Her eyes then sharply peer at Roarke. "After all, dialogue is just a war where nobody has to die."

Boann chuckles and shakes his head, “There is honor in tradition, and stability... But there is room for changes, I admit. Renalta has been a shining example of what modern ideas can do for a nation.” He raises his head and nods as they stop in front of two guards who were looking very tired, near falling asleep on their feet. “Well met. I am High King Boann Hyrill of Tuleria. I am accompanied by Jezmin, Roarke Bezial and Marcela Adrianna Otis. My apologies for being so late, we encountered troubles on the way.”

The keep guards nod, the younger one was already stumbling to stay awake. The older one looked reassuringly at the younger one. "Don't worry, the relief guards are on their way. I think." He then looks at Boann, suddenly remembering that the man in front of him is royalty, while he was just a commoner. "Oh! My... Apologies." He motions them inside. "Mi'lady is surely concerned for your arrival."

Marcela had nothing to add, but dismounted her lizard and patted him on the neck, ushering him towards the stables. "Remember not to eat any horses this time!" She yells after him, before seeing the shocked look in the younger keep guard's eyes. "Ah... Funny story, maybe for another time, soldier."

Boann leans over conspiratorially to ask of Marcela, “Are you sure you need not tell that of some of your troops as well?” He chuckles as he walks, adjusting his weight as he continues through the gates.

Marcela shrugs and moves forward into the keep. Once inside, it was clear that Kouri had been alerted to their arrival, as she stood with Alex by her side and bowed her head briefly. "Welcome to Renalta." She says softly, though with a somewhat weary look to her.

Boann shuffles away from Jezmin, leaning more heavily upon his staff as he makes to make a slight bow in respect. “Queen Kouri. I have heard tales of your beauty. A wonder to find them so true. Thank you for your hospitality, and for your patience. I hope we have not slighted you with our tardiness, but there was no avoiding it as we met with trouble in our crossing the Blood Sea.” His eyes cross back to Alex who was slowly making her cross up behind Kouri, rubbing her eyes with exhaustion and tugging at the sleeves of her dress. He inclines his head to her as well.

"There is no harm done." Kouri says, noticing the limp but making no comment about it. Florence then, without warning, makes his way through the crowd to stand before Boann. "Ah! You have been avoiding me, I think. I have wanted to speak to you, about the Imperium!"

Boann stiffens and averts his attention to Florence. “Ah, so you do. I suppose I might talk to you about this, but do know there is only so much support I might give without the official consent of the other two Triumvirs.”

"Well." He looks at the head of the other two parts the Tulerian envoy. "... Dammit." As his shoulders droop, Marcela crosses her arms behind her back in a military pose. "Don't look so disappointed. I'm sure you can come visit us sometime. When your navy can manage something that doesn't immediately rot away in the blood." Florence looks at her with annoyance before looking back to Boann and bowing humbly. "Please, come see me later. We need speak of such things at some point."

Boann nods his head, “If it suits you, we might discuss such matters now and I will relay it to the other heads of state in our next meeting. There will be much to talk of after this gala ball affair, I am sure, and it will easily fit in.” He flicks a blue-speckled reptilian tongue over his lips as he averts his obsidian eyes back to Kouri. “As of right now, though, I have a request of the Queens of Renalta, seeing how it is already a time of celebration.”

Roarke stiffens his hand tightening about a glass of wine he had procured as his eyes level upon Boann. “What are you planning, King?” he hisses under his breath, beams of light narrowing upon him for a moment even as Boann begins to stride closer to the Queens as best he can manage.

As Florence moves back into the crowd, the Admiral looks at Boann with a suspicious glare of her own. While she wasn't particularly a fan of the chokehold and emphasis on "lizardtry" that Varro Luclin had, any 'plans' kept hidden until now by Boann couldn't be good for the military, and by extension, herself. "What are you doing..." She mutters with discontent as she shifts the weight of her large weapon on her back around a little, nervously.

Kouri on the other hand takes a few steps closer to Boann so as to be only a few feet away and smiles softly. "What can I do for you Boann?"

Boann reaches out his hand, beckoning for Jezmin to join him. He bows his head to Kouri as Jezmin grasps his hand and curtseys before the Queen once more. “Seeing how it is a time of celebration, and see this as no slight to the accomplishments of your Blades, I wished to announce the betrothal of me and my Queen to be, Jezmin of LovoldHold.” He raises his head, a slight smirk playing across his face as his gaze darts briefly to the council mage and admiral. “And as for my request... I wish to be wed here in Renalta, by you and the Queen Alex, if you have no qualms. I have heard pleasant things about these Renaltan weddings and would have one for myself.”

The entire room suddenly goes silent and turns to face Boann. Already the admiral's face lit up like a christmas tree light: Furious and yet at the same time, the salty ex-pirate within her wanted to celebrate the happiness they found in each other. Then, the silence is broken as a woman with a hood starts jumping up and down and cheering. The hood slips back to reveal that it's the spymaster, Mikan. "WOOHOO! Another wedding! Weddings everywhere! I'll get the artist to draw them!" Crown-Prince Xavier shrugs as he looks momentarily at Kouri, then back to Boann. "I hope they wil lbe a happy couple. Well wishes from Liveria." That stated, everyone else started to wish the happy couple well as Kouri nods, agreeing to help the two become married.

Jezmin's uncertain face softens as she leans in and brushes her lips softly against Boann's cheek. His arm goes, draping about her shoulder possessively as he nods his head thankfully to the Queens of Renalta before they meander off to join the ballroom and partake in the revelry and take up word on the events of the world beyond their borders.

Roarke's eyes are thin slits as he glares off after them, hands balled into fists as he seethes at the at the political rug being pulled out from under his feet. He was unamused at twice since leaving Tuleria that things had caught him off his guard. He directs his attention to Marcela, “I think you will have as much fun as I will to Janelle, explaining to Varro the events of this journey. I could only imagine the depths of Varro's rage for the one to bear such tidings. After all, we both know he wishes war with our neighbors to the west.”

Marcela stretches her arms above her head and yawns, staring at the ceiling with mildly unimpressed look in her eyes. "Now -I- will be lucky to avoid blood scraping duty."

A Naream and Valsharess Collab

Naream took a deep breath and smoothed down his robes, he had gone to great efforts to have his best robes cleaned and repaired for the ball. He was not looking forward to this... but the arrogance and stubbornness of a certain pair of queens and their 'oh so superior elder mage' ally to return what was rightfully his forced him to swallow his pride. With reluctance at first but gaining confidence he approached the Drow delegation.

Seeing some guards noting his approach and naturally intercept him he simply stopped and glared at them as he made his introductions, "Naream... of house Baenre..." He gritted his teeth. "Humbly... requesting a audience with the Valsharess."

The guards say nothing as the Valsharess makes a single gesture with her hand. The guards, without being able to see it, step aside and let Naream pass. "Ahh... Andrea... I've been waiting for you." The Valsharess turns and spots, with almost bitter disappointment, Naream. "... Oh. It's you. Hello."

"I feel the same kind of pleasure meeting you, oh Valsharess." Naream said and bowed, hiding his facial features as he said that. "My deepest and most sincere apologies if I am not your pet priestess, or should I say spy, at the Renaltan court." He said without almost a hint of sarcasm, almost. "How fare the Drow, still oppressed by maniacal, religious zealots, even after our gods, especially a certain goddess are banished?" He said, unable to prevent himself from making that jab.

The Valsharess moves her fingers slightly and Naream could feel it, as though a pair of fingers were toying with his adam's apple. "Careful..." He could feel the fingers dig into his skin, causing him to bleed a little. "Llolth can still hear you, foolish child..." The look in her eyes showed a little concern, though it was mostly annoyance at the lack of reverence Naream showed. "The Drow flourish, more powerful than they have ever been, and will be stronger still than that if things go my way... Now, what do you want?"

"Love you too mother..." Naream says, glaring at her. "What I want... well we both know what I want in the long run, but for now." He narrowed his eyes, "Don't you dare deny this, but you must have known that Harrad, had a certain tome in his possession when he fled the Underdark on his quest for immortality, a certain, powerful tome. By right it should now belong to me, in the hands of a Drow. Unfortunately, queen Kouri got her hands of it, after she banished the gods, all of them." He couldn't help but smirk again, knowing his part in that part and to rub it in that by all rights and knowledge all the gods, those of the surface and the underdark were gone, forever. He however mentally shook his head and continued, "She handed it over to her pet mage, Amanda, while they have promised to... give it to me when the time is right, it might be better if say, a strong ally of theirs makes a case that it should be returned to it's rightful owner now. For the good of us all, of course."

He stopped smiling now and clenched his fists, bowing stiffly. "I would be... grateful for such assistance and offer.... my assistance with anything.... our people... the Valsharess... require." He felt like he was making a deal with a daemon, but she was much worse...

"... You want me, to pull strings and acquire you -that- tome?" She looks him over, then shakes her head, uninterested. "You have nothing to offer and you are as treacherous as they come."

Naream glared, then sighed and muttered lowly under his breath, so only she would hear. "I am as treacherous like any other Drow." He snorts, "And nothing to offer... I have access to Harrad's laboratory, he built a entire army of undead mother, not just wights, beasts and monsters as well and all it needs, is someone, with the knowledge and skill, which there is only one Drow currently living who possesses it, to use that tome to awaken and summon them forth... to be at the service of... another, perhaps." He cursed his own weakness for this next part, "Another who might allow a exiled son to return home."

The Valsharess seems to consider this as she thoughtfully looks him over again. Suddenly, her interested was piqued, though not fully. "Intriguing... Still inevitable treacherous, but I should almost do so just to see what you would do with such power..." Licking her lips she snaps herself back to the real world, and sighs. "Not now. Prove yourself, and I will... Consider it."

He bowed again, sensing this conversation was over, for now and made to leave before he paused and turned around, suspicion in his eyes. "If I may offer some advice, do not try to manipulate the queens, either of them. I have seen where that leads to and last time someone did so, well queen Kouri banished the gods, she holds grudges almost like she is a Drow." He said, with a hint of admiration. "Perhaps we will talk again, assuming I survive any potential assassination attempts you throw my way, enjoy the ball, Valsharess." And with that he left, silently cursing himself he had to steep so low to ask for assistance in this matter, but the queens and that bitch Amanda gave him no choice by refusing to return his birthright.

The Valsharess watched him leave, then silently whispered to a small spider on her shoulder. It rappels up to the ceiling and stays out of his sight, though keeps an eye on him for now. Maybe it would mean something more later on.

---

Naream and Maeven Collab

Still having a rather sour taste in his mouth after his audience with the supreme Drow bitch he wandered aimlessly over the ball floor between the various dignitaries of the kingdoms that had come to Renalta for this occasion. On two separate cases he had to point out that, no he wasn't one of the Valsharess's lapdogs he was one of the Queens blades in service of Renalta, at least for the moment, though he did not add that last part. He caught a hint of green hair in his periphery vision, thinking it was Mikan he grinned to himself and went after the elusive owner of the green hair.

When he approached her he frowned, was she shorter now? Still the green hair still made her stood out from everyone else at the ball and he approached her from behind and leaned down, murmuring in her ear. "Still have time to grant a dance to your favourite Drow?" He said with a smirk playing on his lips.

Maeven furrows her brow uncertainly at the voice niggling at her ear as she taps her foot. She did not know any Drow so how could she possibly have a favorite amongst them. Of course, that Val-whatever woman that had introduced herself to the Queen Kouri had been a very attractive specimen so she could be vying for that spot already but this voice was distrinctly masculine. With curiosity she finds herself turning about and looking up at the taller man. And finding her jaw dropping. She begins to find herself snapping her finger as she tries to recall his name before giving up. "Okay. So I don't remember your name. But you were at the West Tower with me and Faf. You had the dead guys... Right?"

Naream blinked, surprised, it seemed he had been in error since this green haired woman was most certainly not Mikan. He blinked when she mentioned the west tower and then widened his eyes, "You, you were the one with the mechanical dragon... with the rather active dragon soul inside that I sensed, yes I remember you." He looked at her hair and then at her face, "You... had a different colour then, ah my apologies I thought you were someone else." He inclined his head, still smiling however. "I guess we never got introduced, Naream Baenre."

"Maeven Lucre," she smiles, lightly tapping the side of her nose and drawing out her skirt as she curtseys. "And thanks for taking notice of Fafnir. I'm sorry he couldn't come along tonight, but apparently they were making a fuss about him scuffing up the floor and causing a riot with the noble people. A whole bunch of squeamish prisses if you ask me." She sniffs and straightens herself up, looking over the drows. She ponders for a moment, looking him over and wondering if he really meant if it was a case of mistaken identity or if he just wanted his soul gem back and was just looking for a more polite excuse instead of causing a scene.

He chuckles and smirks, "Yes I wholly agree with you on that, not much at home or comfortable around nobles either." He glanced back at the Drow delegation with a scowl before he returned his facial features to a more neutral outlook once more and returned his attention to his current conversational partner. "I admit I actually wanted to talk to you, it is quite... intriguing for me to witness someone, not a mage, at least in the strictest sense, able to implement soul stones into constructs, much like my undead and my newest experiments with golems. Especially a powerful one like a dragon soul housed inside a mechanical dragon." He suddenly blinked at a memory and looked suddenly intently at Maeven. "On that note... I had witnessed the damages to your dragon... and I am missing a soul stone, know anything about that?"

Maeven crosses her arms over her blouse and raises her chin with a sniff. "One shouldn't fall asleep with their prized possessions scattered about town willy nilly, sir. That's just common sense. Who knows what scum of the earth will come about picking up such shiny things. Why, what would the little children have done, picking up a such a powerful thing, hmm? Or what if your enemies got ahold of it, imagine what terrible things they might do with such a thing against you." She waggles a finger at him. "Games and battles are just no times for naps."

He smiled thinly and reached out suddenly, grabbing her by the chin with his glove covered hand and traced over the edge of her cheek, "Perhaps, but I was not asleep, I was passed out trying to stay alive and fight off those demonic chess pieces with my magic, among those who I were told were allies, not thieves." He let go of her chin and raised a eyebrow, "It was a empty soul stone regardless and I suspect it is now filled, nevertheless I would ask payment for it since it cannot be returned to it's rightful owner."

"Not thieves, opportunists who would rather not have such things lying around for people we could not account for to pick up." she lightly brushes herself against Naream's hand. "And what payment are you talking about. Money? I am afraid I am quite bled dry with the repairs I have already had to put in for Fafnir saving your arse taking care of the real threats and ending that 'game' with the sprite. Haven't you heard?... Got the bomb disarmed with the child too..." She looks up at the drow and presses closer, raising a hand and presses a hand to his chest, caressing over his torso. "A craft of my skill, perhaps? I'm not sure that would interest you, but it would take time, and I would need information on what you would desire..." She pauses, a small smile spreading as she drops her voice and whispers, "Or is there something else, given you're apparently someone's favorite drow..."

Were all Mechanists... so... flirty? He wondered as he smirked at what she was doing, merely raising a eyebrow with interest, at first when she pressed closer. "Well I admit, your art did intrigue me and I would like to know more, so I would greatly appreciate anything on that regard you could tell me. As for what I desire..." He murmured, before he pressed his body back against her, his hand reaching out once more, tracing over the curve of her ear and then her neck. "As for the something else... I do not want that... as payment at least, I am not that kind a person and neither are you I imagine." He smirked, looking her in the eyes, perhaps this case of mistaken identity would be fun after all. He traced his hand down from her neck, over her shoulder to her arm and hand, taking her hand in his and brought it to his face, kissing the back of it while looking her in the eyes still. "But if you can be persuaded to give it freely I will most certainly be happy to reciprocate..."

She smiles softly and wriggles her fingers at the kiss upon her hand, intrigued by the gesture. "How sweet. I may just have to take you up on that..." With heavily lidded eyes, her mind was already beginning to race with ideas on how to craft a device best suited to Naream's needs to service him. It most certainly would be hard to suit a mage, considering they they had magic at their service, but perhaps that was limiting in its own nature. She licks her lips before continuing, "Perhaps we can talk later as to what your needs may be, but for now, perhaps we can dance or partake in the wines they have to offer here. I have heard from the sprite these things can be quite enjoyable, and not just for the nobles... Can we prove her right?"

He grinned, holding her hand still as he guided his dance partner to the floor, "I think we can most sincerely prove her right." He placed a hand at her hip, but not before brushing it near her thigh. "Dance first, wine later?" He said with a smile, looking like a hungry predator for a moment.

She smiles and fumbles trying to mimic the positions the others about them were taking. "Yeah. I'd hate to see how many times I'd step on your feet after the drink, afterall," she giggles, "I do hope you can lead, otherwise, this might be painful for both of us."

He grinned, "I have been on the surface for a while and had a teacher or two to instruct me." He said, making sure to lead, and pull her even closer to him. "As for the wine later... perhaps we can remove one of those bottles... and enjoy it in the privacy of my or your room." He took a brazen move and leaned in to kiss her neck, sinking his teeth in lightly as well. "After we have stayed sufficiently at this ball of course..." He murmured afterwards.

She smirks and smiles at his offer. "That would be nice... After all... It wouldn't do well... to miss out on all our duties, playing host to all these foreign dignitaries, meeting and greeting, making contacts, so on, so forth." She purrs and plays her fingers lightly through his hair, tangling them lightly in his locks as he leads her along the dance floor.

The Grand Ball, a meeting of Drow with their Valsharess

Frowning, Andrea observed the heretic Drow of all people leave the presence of the Valsharess, what had he to do with her? She scowled, watching his back before ignoring his entire presence from her mind and approached the Drow part of the Underdark representation at the ball. Like a dutiful servant, and not wanting to become spider food, she waited till the Valsharess deigned to notice her presence and allow her to come closer and speak.

Which was nearly immediately, as the Valsharess had yet to mingle back with others when Andrea approached. "Ah... Andrea." She murmurs as she impulsively turns to face her. With a single hand motion her guards move to each side, though they could not see this hand motion, they knew to obey. "What do you wish, child?"

She smiled and approached, glad to speak in her native tongue once more and not just with Ceann. "Merely to welcome you to the surface and the realm of Renalta my queen." She bowed and even the animated snakehead of her whip seemed to show submissive behaviour towards the Drow Valsharess. She glanced at some of the Dwarf congregation nearby, who either had found the ale or brought their own. "I see the alliance sought with the Dwarves has been accepted." She smiled but her eyes showed disdain for the runty little creatures.

Turning back to her queen, she stepped closer, "I have not yet been able to travel far here on the surface, but if my opinion matters on this realm and its rulers." She could not spot the queens, no doubt obscured by other representatives but she continued, making a brief scowl, before making a few quick signs with her hands and fingers. *Strong but fools. They banished their gods without regard of the consequences and now have to reap them, taking us all with them in the coming storm.* "Make decent rulers." She said while signing.

The Valsharess looks around the room and spots Kouri, speaking with Davian and Florence. The two seemed to get along well, and she was introducing them. Responding with sign language, she rapidly weaves words through the air using her hands. *The strongest Drow did not depend on Llolth, they loved her. They still love her. She is wiser than you give her credit for.* Her eyes wander back to Andrea, examining her form, though noticeable stopping on the snake whip. "Wonderful..."

She reaches out and gently touches the snake whip's head, seeing it coo she sighs with satisfaction. "You learn quickly here, I see." The tone of the Valsharess' voice indicated mixed feelings on the prospect as she steps back from the snake. "What else, did you come to me for?"

She looked down at her whip whose tongue slipped out as it tasted the air, thinking about what the Valsharess just signed to her before she continued speaking. "Wondering if I, and Ceann, need to continue serve the interests of our people as you stated still, or if things have changed." She continued signing, *She is strong here, I am cut off from the Underdark but I feel her presence still and her continued blessings* The snake reared it's head as if in response, wrapping itself once around Andrea's waist. *Will we keep it a secret.*

The Valsharess raises an eyebrow in slight surprise. "Of course, child." *To both questions. We are Drow. Secrets are our currency.* Looking around she notices Duncan Rocklover stumbling over to her, drunk as a sea rat. One exhale told her enough as her face wrinkled in disgust. "EEhhhhh... Hic... Dark lady!" The guards get in his way as she slips into the crowd, leading Ceann and Andrea with her. "Dwarves." The inflection of her voice was anything but pleasant as she turned to look at Ceann. "... You were both wounded up here... What happened to you, my children?"

Andrea blinked, looking back and was able to resist a shudder or looking surprised at seeing the stealthy bodyguard there, not even she had sensed her, her paranoia flared suddenly, was Ceann here to protect her like she had been told or had she been send along to watch her?

She had been watching, as always, the people in this ball did not notice her, not when she didn't wanted them to, although a few individuals, did seem to notice her, which was quite a remarkable feat for them. Now that the Valsharess had deigned her presence she spoke up, softly, as always. "They call it the carnival of Chaos, they, or it's leader, deemed that Kouri... the Queens Blades of Renalta needed to learn a lesson, or be tested by fire. Sowing chaos in a village with explosive devices that needed to be disarmed, we got injured during the blast after a Queens Blade, put in the weird combination to disarm the device. A enemy vampire and his Aasimar lover were involved, the former who was able to command spiders, to which Andrea of course objected and seemed to earn favour by swaying one of the spiders, but not both."

She hissed, "That was because the others killed that one before my commands could settle in it's mind. But other than that, Ceann gave a adequate report. Another queens blade died but... has also been... restored to life, a angel was involved, or so I am told."

"An angel?..." The Valsharess narrows her eyes and glares at Andrea, suddenly all the amused masquerades were gone. This was serious. "What was his name." How she knew the gender of this angel was beyond their knowledge, and from the slight uncertainty in her eyes, her own.

"Gabriel." Andrea replied simply and at once at the demand of her Valsharess to know the name.

Ceann remained silent, merely looking around the ballroom if the angel in question was in attendance to point out for the Drow queen.

"Gabriel..." The Valsharess repeats softly, Ceann would notice sharply that the name was almost intimiately famliar to the Valsharess. Andrea noticed nothing, however. "... He seeks to restore other angels..." Quietly she makes sure no other Drow were around to watch as she uses sign language once more. *Llolth needs an angel for her cause, but we need an angel to create an angel.*

"Perhaps, I learned from another Queens blade, a Aasimar as it happens, that she intends to travel with this angel to a enclave of his kind that have been stuck on the mortal coil." While saying this she signed, *Willing or captive.*

Ceann barely raised her eyebrows when the Valsharess seemed to be familiar with the angel's name, her purpose was not to question however, if she deemed they needed to know more she would tell them.

The Valsharess smiles warmly to Ceann. Slipping past Andrea, she rests a hand on Ceann's cheek, slowly running her thumb across Ceann's nose. "Loyalty is such an underappreciated quality." Her hand drifts down to Ceann's shoulder before slipping off her body. Looking to Andrea she takes a deep breath. "Ensure they succeed. We need the angel more than we need the crown."

Andrea blinked and for a moment, a look of intense jealousy crossed her features when she saw what the Valsharess did to Ceann and seemed to praise her, she gritted her teeth and remained silent however, swallowing any bile she might have been about to say and instead bowed, "It will be done." What crown? She wanted to ask but bit her tongue on it.

Ceann felt pride and joy at being recognized but did not let it rise to her head, she was the servant after all and also bowed. "It will be done." She signed quickly, *Must this be kept away from the angel here*. She felt like she had to ask that, if they needed to inform the angels somewhat of their intent or if they needed to seek out a angel, other than this Gabriel and somehow convince him, or her, to go to the Valsharess.

"Good." The Valsharess notices the jealousy from Andrea and chuckles. Without warning she wraps her arms around the priestess' waist, and pulls her in for a deep, long kiss. After a few moments she looks her eye to eye. "Feeling better, child?" Looking between Ceann and Andrea, she finally responds to Ceann's question. *Yes.*

Ceann blinked once and nodded, her purpose and mission clear once more.

Andrea blinked but melted, kissing back meekly, unable to resist a whimper as she nods, taking a deep breath. "Yes, mistress." She shuddered and then frowned, "These surfacers are weird however... I have been informed... this event will not end in a orgy, like we are used to at our own grand gatherings of nobles..."

The Valsharess glances back towards Duncan Rocklover, who was whooping and cheering on a small but controlled fist fight between a dwarf and a Rheinfelder. The dwarf was winning. "Oh, there will be one in the Coalition's part of the guest quarters... But..." Her eyes drift over to Andrea and Ceann, a small, devilish smirk reaching her lips. "I feel as though a priestess and her pet would be... Quite a welcome addition to the crowd."

Smiling Andrea bowed, "We would be most happy to attend, after mingling of course, with so many delegations of the surface gathered, there is so much to learn." Though she did hope to not see any Dwarves at the orgy, or at least none she would have to couple with.

She was surprised to be included but bowed her head.

Andrea smiled still, beaming actually it seems, tracing over the head of her snake. "Our thanks for seeing us Valsharess, we strive to please you and the spider queen."She bowed again, expecting to be dismissed, since they had been able to give their report and receive a new, curious mission.

"Good." The Valsharess notices Duncan motioning her over and with a roll of her eyes and a sigh, she starts walking over to him. "Take care, children. Llolth has great interest in you."

They walked away and remained silent before Andrea turned to Ceann, "So, Liveria, have you been there before?"

Ceann tilted her head and then slowly shook her head, "No, well not for long, the country did not appeal to me. They have their secrets, but they are rather private about it all, perhaps as close as our own people."

She nods slowly and looked for the Liverian delegation. "Perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves to them and see what we can learn." *Without revealing our true purpose, naturally*.

She just nodded and off they went.

Aslo stood uncomfortably as the light fell on him, it was a curious enough feeling to have a spotlight on him after he had spent such a long time of his life hiding his name as best he could. He had watched as the diplomatic parties had strolled into the building watching intently as they bickered about themselves, and he had made a note or two to himself for future review. As focus once again shifted to the ball he took a place against a nearby wall. He felt almost nude without a hood on, and the colors of his current clothing were much lighter than he'd usually sport, such was the life of a party-goer he supposed. He brushed a loose trimming off of his shoulder where Kira had torn through the fabric slightly, sadly she was left in his quarters for some rather unsatisfactory reason that had been supplied to him. One could be sure that the guard would receive his dues for the method he had shooed Kira off when they had arrived at the Ballroom.

Soon he would scan the room and have his eyes rest upon those from the Freeholds. While he didn't recognize any of them right off, he had at least heard the names of those spoken. It was strange to him to be so disconnected from his homelands, and yet have them come so near him now. He decided quickly to leave his place at the wall and approach the leaders. Aware of their believed standings in the world Aslo gave a slight bow as he reached them. "Esteemed lords, it is a honour for one of your lands to find you so far from home!" a signature smile dawned on his face, somehow just as strange in the full light of the room as it was peeking from beneath a hood.

"Ah, yes, you." A half elf woman said as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was the warlord of a hold near Southblood. Whilst not a major contender in her own right, she had thrown her support behind Rashad, as upon taking power over her hold she had taken a hostile stance towards most slavers. "I'm sure you remember me. Tina. The one with pig tails. The one the other warlords take verbal shots at."

"With a name heard as often as yours it'd be difficult not to recognize you in a crowd. Favoured femme fatale of Orogal!" He extended a hand towards her, motioning for her own. "A wonderful meeting once again!"

"Right." Tina says as she doesn't uncross her arms to shake his hand. "What do you want?"

Aslo withdraws his hand uncomfortably. Beginning to sense something was not quite right between the two of them. His gaze shifted off to the right as he tried to recall exactly how things had been left when last they met. "At the request of my Queens I am here to mingle and introduce myself to those we hope to be our allies, such as yourselves." he said motioning to those in the group "And to offer our assistance in future matters that you may require aid in and so forth."

"Right, then you're talking to me... Why?" Tina sighs and finally lowers her arms from her chest. She then starts wringing her wrists out, looking about the room nervously. "L-look... In the carriage, that exploded... That stupid pile of grey goop figured it was the woman in the carriage who did it... They were our body doubles." She then looks to Rashad, who was only a few feet away. Gritting her teeth she looks back at Aslo. "...I... I'm a little... Afraid, he doesn't trust me anymore. That was -my- body double." The nervousness in her eyes shined like a pair of bright stars. "Could you... Maybe... Talk to him?" That being said, she then manages a bit of a smile as her hands move behind her back. Stretching out, she prominantly shows off her admirable enough hour glass figure. In any world she would be attractive. "If you did I would... Appreciate it. Very much."

"Curious" Aslo thought. He had obviously witnessed the botched assassination attempt. Tutting the entire time. The shoddy craft some assassins was heinous, and he felt they cheapened the name. There had been a time that had he been hired, the Freeholds would not have been taking part in tonight's discussions. He realized he was chewing his lip a bit, all together ignoring whatever it was Tina had been saying. "Well Tina as it seems I owe you something, a little investigation can only brighten my night." He bowed as he took a step away and motioned towards Rashad. Spreading his arms out wide "Rashad of Ravenhold! seems you can't escape the presence of death even in the lush peace of Renalta!"

Rashad looks back at the marvelous assassin, and in a moment, Fahim stepped between them. Rashad chuckles and motions Fahid aside. "It is fine, Fahim, if this one was doing his work he would do it with poison, not with a blade, he's far more... Sophisticated." He steps past a suspicious looking Fahid as he embraces Aslo in a warm, overexaggerated hug. "Of course death can't take me, I am Rashad! Rashad Rhallous! Not even the nine hells could contain me!" He says with laughter. "What is it you want, Aslo? Come for work..." He glances at one of his slaves, a rather attractive looking man who stood shirtless, a smile on his face as he looked at Aslo. "... Or pleasure?"

He joined his hands together and lowered his gaze to his feet "Some might call me craven for the use of poisons, but fear not! For they were taught true shortly afterwards by mine own blade." he once again looked to Rashad "I should say my motives lie somewhere in between tonight. I am here on order from the Queen to enjoy myself." he shrugs "What's a man to do!" A smile forms on his lips "You should not tempt the Fates after the proceedings of this afternoon, frightening times for all of us."

"Maybe." Rashad says with a chuckle. "For a boy who fears death, certainly." He then lets go of Aslo and rests his hands on Aslo's shoulders. "No, truly, what is it that you need?"

"Need? Nothing friend. I am quite content." he said with a quick glance over to Tina "I am here only as a courtesy to some who most certainly do fear death, perhaps even from you, surrounding the attack. My friend fears you may place blame on her. I speak on her behalf." with a second of reflection, a grin formed on his face "Rather their."

Rashad chuckles and shakes his head. "No. She is too small to afford someone like that." He states simply, if a little brutally. "Besides, too obvious! Nobody gets to be a warlord by being obvious. At least, not for long." He then looks Aslo over and scratches his chin. "I don't suppose you might... Possibly..." He looks around. "... Might be interested in a little bit of... Business?"

"Fear is ever present, but you are not wrong. I certainly agree that she does not seem to play a part in this one. Though as a friend I might be able to recommend playing this one to your benefit, she's not all that hideous afterall. And the pigtails are cute I suppose." He smiles with a wink. "As for business, well I suppose if it's to be official Blades business I'd have to discuss things with the others." he said with a wave towards the Blades spread among the Ball. "However all other forms of skulduggery are never turned away by me, and I have means to complete most any task."

"I ah... Would find it... Immensely helpful..." He looks around, then leans in and whispers. "... If you would... Possible direct me to a few of your... Contacts, in Southblood. I could use them to get more last minute information... For my ah... Proposition, in case it is accepted by your Queen."

The lack of nerves displayed by even the most powerful of men were always humorous to Aslo. The slaughter of 100 men? Not a problem. Yet shades and secrets seemed to tighten their lips more than a nun is faithful. "What form of information might you require? Do you have a mage handy that might communicate with my people? Even a Magestone of your own?"

"Maybe." Rashad says, giving away that he had one, just not on his person at that very moment. "And anything on Deimos' security. His keep... And his secondary." He glances at Tina, who seemed a little anxious. "She seems to be waiting on you."

"I shall tell my man to get in contact with you. Expect a report from him before you leave for Ravenhold." Looking back over his shoulder he noticed the anxious look on Tina's face. "It would seem as though she is. Unless you wished to intervene?"

He looks at her, then chuckles. "No, this one is all yours... 'Assassin'." He turns around, back towards the crowd, though Fahim watched for any suspicious movements.

Aslo gave a bow as Rashad turns away, and waved at Fahim with a wide smile as well. He moved back towards Tina, unsure how to handle the following situation. He could make her feel quite fearful.

She motions him close and whispers furtively. "Well?"

"Well I should think you safe. While he wasn't entirely convinced your hands were clear of any wrong doings, with a simple deal I was able to buy your safety. Never fear." He said with as innocent smile upon his face.

"Ah, I see." She says with a smile on her face as well, stepping closer to him she wraps her arms around his shoulders. "Then I suppose..." One of her fingers runs down to his waist. "... I should... Inform you..." As her hand goes lower, she grasps between his legs and squeezes tightly. "That half-elves still have large ears that can hear quite clearly, and that I'm not a woman to fuck with."

He cringes as his grip tightens, forcing out words with a simple shrug. "You would think a man with as much information at his disposal as I do would have known that." his hands venture to her hips resting as comfortably there as they could all things considered. "I suppose what we should take from this is that he suspects you of no wrong-doing, and that you are safe regardless of the means."

"True." She says as the hand travels back up from between his legs. "And my but you are handsome..." Leaving a kiss on his cheek, Tina pushes him away. "But you should know better, assassin."

A sigh of relief escapes his lips as she releases pressure. "Perhaps someday I will learn." As she leaves her kiss upon him, he reaches up to brush her cheek "Perhaps someday you might teach me."

"Ha." She smiles and looks him over again. "I like you. Maybe I will teach you sometime."

"Then I wait with baited breath Tina. Or should I address you with some kind of title befitting your station?"

"Tina's fine, assassin." Once again crossing her arms, she motions to the crowd. "Go blend in again."

"As you wish then mi'lady, I'll find my way back into the shade." he took off with a silent stride. "Feel confident in the knowledge that you are safe." a sigh escaped his lips as he made his way towards the drinks. The ball reminded him of the auction so long ago, and how ill suited he had been to the spotlight even then. Foolish as he had been to attempt his plan that night, he knew he had done it for the right reasons The life of an assassin truly lies within the shade... Such things I do to avenge what was lost. Perhaps a drink might help alleviate such poor tidings. and he turned on his heels to make his way towards the alcohol.

Gala Ball; Rustle
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As Kouri's hand gestured in the direction of a far wall of the ballroom, the light generated by Amanda illuminated a figure somewhat surrounded by men and women in elaborate and gaudy clothing, showing off their wealth and nobility with ornamentation. The nobles of a few different locale paused to look at what the light touched, and their eyes widened as what most had assumed to be but an oddly place, grim statue of a skeleton, stirred. Its bones were mottled of aged ivory and stains of brown, a heavy woolen tabard draped over its shoulders; edged in fine leather, a black border around sable, in the center, front and back, a silver shield over a black tree embroidered with care. At it's left waist hung a field ready arming sword, rather than the ornate weapons of decor and office that presided at such an affair; plain brass quillions, a stacked leather grip, and a circular pommel. The scabbard was embellished only by the engraving of the Queen's Blades symbol near the mount.

The skeleton's head pivoted as the people around him stepped back from what they now realized wasn't just a mildly macabre statue that seemed slightly out of place in such an elegant setting. They gave it space once realizing that it was aware, more than a few expressions of unease, or possibly disgust being readable upon their face. Whether it was for his lack of flesh, or his lowly attire, he likely would never know. Not that he was inclined to ask. Instead, Russel turned and started a slow pace around the room, his head slowly pivoting as he took in the sights, and the mingling dignitaries. Himself remaining quiet as he moved, only cracking his jaw to offer an earily toned expression of his desire to move through a cluster of people too wide to circle about.

He walked with his left hand over the mount of his blade's scabbard, keeping the steel under control as he moved with a familiarity that, when he thought about it, made him curious. It was obvious that he was a man of blade, bow and spear when he was flesh and whole, that much was clear. But what position did he hold? He was able to read and write, and knew sword play to a better degree than some, which seemed like he wasn't quite a peasant, nor a member of a part time militia. Even now, these sights, these sounds seemed intangibly familiar. Was he a guard? A member of a city watch? A soldier, a knight or lord? Every time he discovered something that seemed familiar, it sparked more questions, fanning that flame of curiosity that he wanted to solve just who he was, or had been.

Something jostled him, a weight impacting his right leg. Looking down ot of his thoughts, he was greeted with the stare of immense blue eyes of a little girl with deep brown hair. She wore an expensive little cotehardie of violet velvet, adorned with golden buttons down the front, and a pattern picked out in silver and yellow thread of flowers and stars around the collar and sleeves that transitioned to silky lace from just past her shoulders. Her hair was done neatly in braids, netted with laced pearls. She flashed him a smile as two young boys of roughly the same age, caught up to her before she took off again with a quiet shriek of youthful playfulness.

Suddenly his vision blurred, shifting, fading, as colours muted and sounds grew dim and muffled. His view chased a silken train through pale golden light, between canyons of people dressed in particoloured hose and elegant gowns. He jerked slightly as he caught himself, trying to orientate his mind, he scanned around, the faded shadows of the vision had dissolved. Everything was as it was. Confusion set in as he grasped at what that vision meant, A memory?

Overwhelming, the noise of the people around him caught him off guard, it was uncomfortable, hard to think, distracting, jarring his mind as he heard the conversations of hundreds of people crashing into each other, each voice getting mingled with another, words shattering into shards of unintelligible sound. Quietly, he excused himself through the throngs of people, seeking empty air.

A Russel and Naream Collabation at the great Ball...

Excusing himself from his dance partner, Maeven, claiming he needed to cool off some, mostly due to her bumping and grinding during the dancing they were doing, even though he was far from innocent of not doing the same to her. Regardless he cleared his head of any… distracting thoughts, heading for one of the buffet tables when he stopped and raised his eyebrows at the most curious individual he had witnessed in a long time.

The others people nearby were giving this… apparition a rather wide berth, either from fear, distaste or simply indifference. It was a man, well the skeleton of a man, nothing unusual to him of course, what was unusual, this one was not under the control of a necromancer, he had heard about this one, also a member of the Queens Blades but he thought the people discussing him were jesting and not serious.

Seeing the oddity walk away he decided to follow in pursuit and perhaps, assuming he was able to communicate with it, which should not be a problem he had ways to talk to the deceased after all…

It did not take Rust long to find clear air near the open doors of the ballroom, a door the opened onto balcony of marble, carved with care of craftsmen. The din of the party that was suffocating, and all encompassing diminished as he rested his hands upon the balustrade and leaned against it for a moment, hanging his barren head in thought, trying to remember the memory, to analyze it, to cement every detail. Yet it fluttered, like dreams upon waking, shifting through his grasp.

He wanted to be angry, but there was nothing to be angry at, or about. He couldn’t angry at what raised him, as nothing seemed to have done so. No one had caused his amnesia, and it made no sense to be angry at himself over something he had utterly no control of. The anger wanted to corrupt itself into depression, but there was...joy there. He had remembered something While the detailed slipped away, leaving him with impressions, he knew he had been happy in that memory, enthralled, joyous even.

It was something tangible. It meant he was not imagining a life that never was. He had lived before. He had a past that could be found. He gripped the railing tightly, faint noise coming from his skeleton as it ground against the smoothed stone.

Naream crossed his arms and studied the skeleton Queens Blade for a moment, how… fascinating indeed, if he didn’t knew any better from the way it seemed to be in it’s current stance, it seemed almost at a loss or forlorn. He reached out with his magical senses but could not feel the tug and pull of some necromancer pulling the strings from somewhere unseen.

After a while, when it seemed he would either not be noticed or just ignored he coughed to make his presence known.

A noise displaced from the regular dull roar of the ball itself caught his attention. Looking up and pivoting on the heel of his right foot, Russel turned to the noise, to find someone there, someone he didn’t recognize. As he finished his turn, his left hand returned to the mount of the scabbard, steading the blade’s sway without consciously thinking of it, his right hesitating for a moment, before reaching forwards in friendly gesture, “Russel, of the Queen’s Blades.” His voice carried from the hollow confines of his upper chest, or around there; a hollow, hissing note of unnatural speech that followed the vague pattern of his opening and closing jaw. His vision fell upon the clasp Naream wore, bearing the insignia of the Queen’s Blades, and nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Naream Baenre, also of the Queen’s Blades.” He replied with, pausing briefly and chuckled. “My apologies, I was not certain if you had… capabilities to form speech, considering your… condition shall we say. But I am rude, we have not met before, or at least not accordingly. I must say you drew quite a crowd back there.” He nodded back the way of the ball. “I feel the need to ask, from a professional point of view, how did you… came to be in this condition you are now? I do not feel the pulling of strings of a necromancer on you, besides you clearly seem to be capable of more than a simple skeleton brought to life, or even a warrior wight.” Naream asked and stated, curiousity evident in his features and voice.

Rust paused for a moment, considering, “Do I guess correctly that you would be a scholar of the undead?” He slowly lowered his right hand, he’d been told it was not a custom adopted by all, so it didn’t bother him much. “But to answer your question, I do not know.” His chest inflated without the intake of air as if in a mimed gesture of a sigh, “I recall nothing until I woke in the mountains to the north, half buried in ruins and bramble.” It came out rather matter of factly, possibly aided by the near monotone of his voice, though there were small inflections that managed to carry through.

He got closer, perhaps inappropriately so, studying the chest area. “No lungs yet the actions of your chest inflating happens, not to mention you are able to speak without any visible voice cords that would be needed to produce such sounds.” He looked up at Russel’s face, well skeletal visage, “You are quite the unique apparition. So you suffer a total loss of memory? No hint of your past at all? Did you wake up at the sound of thunder and some madman shouting ‘ITS ALIVE’? No? How odd, usually that is the case when… well, something like you appears.”

He shook his head slightly, “Loss of recollection, one of the interrogation members assigned to clearing me of any ill intent, claimed. I retained skills and abilities of who I once was, but memories, how I have them, or the knowledge of if I have them is void. However, I feel familiarities when I do something that I know. Combat is one. This gala itself has familiarity to it.” A thought crossed his mind, of whether he should divulge the recent occurrence of a resurfacing memory, but for the moment, kept that to himself. He knew not this Naream, though the man seemed friendly enough. “One of the Scholars suggested my excess movements are vestiges of muscle memory. However, I saw nothing but deer, birds, and other wildlife when I walked from the ruins. Though, without knowing why exactly, I dug free the scraps of armour I wore and a broken blade that had been buried by time beneath me.”

“Hmmm, I see. No indication of who or what resided within the ruins… or how long ago you might have been buried?” He chuckled, “Do forgive but when it comes to matters of the undead… and animated skeletons like yourself.” He cocked his head and then nodded, mostly to himself as if making a decision. “Let me reveal you a secret of myself.” He raised one of his arms and removed the glove, rolling up the sleeve, revealing his skeletal but still functioning arm. “As you can see, quite the professional interest.”

“Well, they postulated it had been several centuries since I breathed air. The armour I wore and the blade I salvaged seemed to place the time somewhere between four and five centuries. But I have not yet had the chance, nor opportunity to pursue dating them, or identifying their origin further. This event being quite the distraction, since I joined the Blade but a few moons ago.” As Naream revealed his arm however, the gesture of Russel’s head from the arm back to Naream seemed to accentuate what he said next however, “Sir Baerne, I do believe you confuse the meaning of ‘professional interest’ with ‘personal interest’?”

“I am a necromancer, in this case they are both one and the same I imagine, though my experimentation is for something… a bit more far reaching.” He smiled and rolled his sleeve back down and returned the glove over his hand. “Even so what happened to you… must have been the work of a great magical spell or condition, or a curse.” He paused after saying the last part, if what happened to this man was a curse he had made some powerful enemies back in his day, something to contemplate. “Now I am wondering, if you had lived centuries ago… and yet are… ‘revived’ if you can call it that, now then it can mean many things, right now I would like to offer my advice or assistance, if you require it.” He gestured at Russel’s body, this service we both are in asks us to find combat, now I do not know if bones regenerate but if you, were to say, suffer from any damages I could repair you. Perhaps I can even help with your memories, in return… well as you said, personal interest, I would like to make some studies, if I amy and see if what has befallen you, I can use for myself.”

As the Drow confessed to his interest being a bit of both, Rust nodded. He had assumed as much, most seemed to regard a walking, aware skeleton with hesitancy, caution, or fear. It had so far been Rust’s experience that the only people who approached him with any candor, had been children, the drunk, or scholars of death and undeath. “You wonder the same things as I, in regards to why I now walk again. But I think it would be beneficial of us both to work together in this fashion you suggest. For as long as it remains mutually beneficial of course. I would not impose my needs upon you at the expense of your interests, and I would object to studies or experiments that hold danger to my existence. An equitable arrangement?”

“That is a agreeable arrangement to me.” He extended his hand. “To a good and mutually beneficial association between the two of us then.” He smiled, yes he thought, this could provide many shortcuts to his own research and he could not deny that this condition that had befallen this human held a great deal of interest, he always loved a good mystery involving the undead.

He nodded and took the extended hand a shook it firmly. He wasn’t sure he trusted Naream yet, nor knew if he was a man of honour. However, he was a man of skill to have been able to join the Blades, and for now, that knowledge would suffice.

He shook the hand back and grinned, “At this point I’d normally suggest to share a drink, but in your case it might be, ah, a bit messy when it goes down. I however will be returning to the ball, will you as well? I gathered you actually sought some solace when I announced my presence.”

He considered for a moment, and then shook his head once, “I may spend a minute more. While familiar, I am unaccustomed to the din of such a large gathering. It was...a bit overwhelming. I shall rejoin in but a few more moments though. It was good to make your acquaintance Sir Naream.”

He bowed, “It was indeed, enjoy the… quiet, while it lasts then.” He turned back and headed back inside, this mutual partnership might be quite the adventure ahead...

Alicia Le'roux and Princess Ethlinn-The Grand Ball

---

After general Hanus disappeared with Xavier and his assistant, Alicia found herself retreating to a dining table, where she claimed a glass of wine. She sipped the drink at a leisurely pace, enjoying the strength and sharpness of the vino as she observed the people around them: her silver eyes surveying the room and taking great delight in people-watching. With so many people to observe, from so many different regions, there was no shortage of interesting sights.

After finishing her first drink and procuring herself a second, she started seeing some of the stars of the show: The dwarves’ leader, surrounded by his drunken, bearded brothers; The Drow woman, seemingly the most interesting and non-interesting person in the room at the same time, as if it were a talent; The Rhienfelder, seemingly divided down the middle but all sharing a certain straightness of the back; and the Amazonian princess, so out of place amongst them all. Something about the woman was...for lack of a better word, exotic. A certain aura seemed to radiate from her that made the Vampirism in her blood dance. She wanted to know more, no, she needed to know more. Perhaps the alcohol was making her feel more brazen than normal, but Alicia rose from a lazy perched lean she had adopted and made her way towards the Princess.

The princess stood alone, seemingly voluntarily as she stared around at the stone that comprised the majority of the structure. Her staff glowed a little as Alicia approached, catching Ethlinn’s attention as she turns to face the approaching vampire. Standing straight and looking Alicia over from head to toe, Ethlinn’s eyes remained cold and untrusting nonetheless. “Who are you?” Her tone was a mix of intrigue and caution. “And where did you get such civil manners…”

Alicia’s eyes glanced over the princess in as curious a manner as the Amazonian seemed to glance at her. Unabashed interest had her glancing at the staff a number of times, intrigued at how it glowed upon her approach. When addressed, Alicia bowed her head respectfully to Ethlinn. “I am Alicia Le’roux, a member of the Queen’s Blades.” She offered the princess a slight smile, although taking care not to flash her teeth: sometimes the gesture scared people. “What civil manners do you speak of, princess Ethlinn?” She was a bit unsure of what the princess was referring to, when it came to ‘Civil manners.’ Had she performed some social faux pas?

Ethlinn’s grip on her staff tightens as Alicia looked it over; the silver eyes were mildly unnerving to her in contrast to Alicia’s behaviour. “You are civilized. You stand straight like the others; you speak eloquently like the others. Not like our vampires.” Her eyes narrow. “What have they done to make you such a well-trained kitten.”

Alicia was left at a pause as Ethlinn compared her to a trained kitten. She had been called many things in her life-time, but ‘Well trained kitten’ had never been one of them. “I’ll have you know that I am no kitten, and the fact that I am civilized should be no shock at all. Have you never met a civilized vampire before? We aren’t all of that brutish Malakai’s brood: and even his lineage can produce the rare, if barely, civil specimen.” She lifted the glass of wine to her lips, sipping it before glancing at the princess. “Truth be told, I was expecting the leader of the amazon people to be more...well...big: no offense meant.”

The princess seemed extremely irritated by the comment, but didn’t lash out as she walks around the vampire. Looking at the glass of wine, complete confusion crossed her face. “You cannot enjoy that drink. Or any drink. Why would you drink wine, and not blood?” A slight, playful smile crosses her face as her tone changes to an equally playful mood. “We do not recognize broods… Vampirism is a curse, but a useful one, one to be indulged in. You stand here, so straight and tall, yet within you courses the blood of monsters many generations past… You should be enthralled with the hunt for prey, not with this… This…” Motioning around the room at the stone architecture, she emphasizes her point with body language. “... Timid, repressed civilization.”

The vampire couldn’t help but feel her smile grow as the princess talked. There was an infectious nature to the excited inflections of her shifted tone. As she got more playful and more energetic, Alicia felt a sort of giddiness. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am nothing more than a cursed monster, masquerading as something more: a predator amongst the prey…” She pauses deliberately, taking another slow sip of the wine. “...and yet, surely that makes me an even more terrifying sort of beast. A viper, compared to your normal wolves. ‘This ‘timid, repressed civilization’ holds many splendours. My prey now consists of some of the world’s most terrifying adversaries: and I wouldn’t trade that for any useless slavery to savage desire.” She drained the last of the wine, holding the empty glass between thumb and finger. “As for the wine: well, sometimes I like to taste nostalgia, even if the taste pales in comparison to my normal diet.”

Ethlinn shakes her head and growls, the left corner of her lip twitches as she represses an outright snarl. “You do not understand.” Turning, she starts to walk away without any further words. Perhaps it was unwise to compare oneself to a poisonous viper and then insult the core cultural values of another civilization. Maybe.

Alicia paused as if slapped when the Amazonian stormed away, snarling. The confusion on her face was evident, and yet her desire to understand Ethlinn was unsated. Something was enticing her, calling to her curse: and she didn’t know what. She stepped forward, following the princess. “Please wait, Princess Ethlinn. I don’t mean to offend. The things you say confuse me greatly and I seem to have slighted you in my retort. Truth be told, I sought you out because something about you is...enticing to me…The uncivilized me that you speak of.” Alicia sighs, not sure how to even pursue the conversation she sought. Every story she’d heard of the amazon people was about a nation of savage, brutish and beautiful women: there was nothing about customs or culture or how to slight or not to slight them. “How can I show the sincerity of my apology? We seem to not understand each other, but I feel a need to understand you: If only for my curse’s sake.”

“You cannot understand an Amazon with words.” Ethlinn says sharply as she turns and slaps the empty wine glass out of Alicia’s hand. It shatters as it hits the ground, causing a few people to jump in surprise, though most paid it no heed with dwarves and Rheinfelders under the same roof. Things were bound to be broken on a regular basis. Still, the princess grasps one of Alicia’s shoulders with one hand, squeezing it tightly she glares into Alicia’s silver eyes, seemingly trying to read for the truth… Though it was pointless to try with a vampire. “We are a culture that prides itself on actions. We don’t just claim to love passion, we are passion, we live for passion, we pursue it in everything we do. The things we say, the art we create, the battles we fight, and the… More private matters that distress you civilized people to speak of in any kind of open context. Already, I repress myself simply to fit in here. Do you not see that?” Sighing, she lets go of Alicia’s shoulder. “You cannot categorize an Amazon in a book on a page. It is not that simple. In the same way that it would be a massive disservice to simply label all vampires as parasitic walking corpses who excel at getting murdered by people with sharp wooden sticks.”

Alicia heard the glass break, but she didn’t dare look at it. She was transfixed by the Amazon’s stare: meeting her glare without shame and trying to prove herself. Passion flowed from every word of the woman’s speech, and Alicia felt her blood boil. If she still had a beating heart, it would be pumping at a furious pace as she felt the infectious excitement of the woman’s words. Ethlinn was...amazing. She defied every one of Alicia’s expectations and the vampire was left speechless. She hadn’t a retort, or a soothing comment, or any words at all. Words would be injustice to the woman, she understood that now. Words were not worth spending here, to insult a princess. She needed action. An action to show her sincerity...something…

She finally came up with an idea. She turned briefly from the woman and grabbed a handful of glass from the floor. It cut and sliced flesh, drawing blood instantly and leaving Alicia to wince, but she ignored the pain in pursuit of the act. Lifting up the fistful of glass, she turned back to Ethlinn, opening the bloodied palm and the broken glass and presenting it to the princess. “Does this show you? I want to know more. If you can’t tell me, show me. If you can’t forgive me, spurn me. Just...help me understand.”

Ethlinn stood, somewhat baffled by the display, and yet, a large smile quickly brightened her look as she tilted her staff somewhat and gently rolled the blood on Alicia’s hand. Pushing the glass away, the blood then immediately clots over the wounds, stopping the bleeding as she sighs, looking momentarily weary. “You want to learn. How… Interesting, isn’t that what you civilized people would say.” Pondering Alicia’s request, the princess starts to pace slowly around in a circle. “How do I ‘teach’ passion?” There was a subtle change in the sound her feet made as they touched the ground. The weight was being distributed differently in her steps now, they were lighter, almost like they were more elusive. “I am not much of a teacher… Our shamans are better teachers. This environment also represses my ability to teach. For instance…” As she makes her way back to where she started, she smacks the end of her staff against a nearby Imperial. Noticing no response and seemingly agitated by that, she smacks a nearby Rheinfelder instead, who immediately turns in anger. Alicia would immediately recognize the man.

“How dare you strike me, jungle wench!” It was Davian, Taigyn’s second in command of the Templar Order. “What makes you thi--” He is smacked again by the end of the staff as the Amazonian giggles. Still, she hit him hard enough to leave a red mark against his cheek. “... I’m not supposed to do this.” The princess finally states as Davian nods in agreement. “Right you aren’t. Hit me again and we’ll see ho--” Seemingly obliging his request, Ethlinn smacks him across the face with the end of her staff once more. Davian then charges Ethlinn, only for Ethlinn to step aside, resulting in Davian ramming into a small group of half-drunk dwarves. They in turn growl angrily as Davian takes a few steps back, chuckling nervously as the dwarves then start a small fight. “Do you see it yet?” Ethlinn states plainly as she steps away from the fight and keeps her distance, though it seemed every fibre of her being wanted to join in.

Alicia’s face shifted from confusion to horror to open laughter as she watched Ethlinn shame the strange Templar a number of times, ending up in a drunken brawl between Dwarf and Rhienfelder. She laughed longer and harder than most would consider decent, and for some reason she didn’t seem to care. It was...invigorating. The freedom in Ethlinn’s actions was selfish, and callous, and disregarded all rules of common decency: but perhaps that was the point? “You act because you want to act. To think that such a natural thing should feel so unnatural…”

Understanding was a strange thing. To understand why Ethlinn did what she did was one thing, but Alicia’s mind couldn’t comprehend what action would follow. Every time she did, her mind would settle on consequences, and the results of her actions. She remembered her fear when confronting Xavier: how she had been afraid of speaking out because of the consequences...She had nearly been made useless by those same fears. “This is…” she looked around at the carnage of the scene, the broken glass and the moving people and the unorganised motion of the room. For the first time that night, she felt smothered by the enclosed walls of the hall. “This is more than I think any person can understand in one night. She looked at Ethlinn again, focusing on the Amazon and smiling broadly: not hiding her fangs or the mirth she felt. “Although I think I’m starting to understand a bit. Th…” She stopped herself, mid gratitude. Considering the crux of this little display had been about action and passion, it seemed that words would be a disservice. She stepped in closer to Ethlinn, leaning in and kissing the Princess’ cheek. “Thank you.”

“Hm…” The amazon purrs with appreciation as she is kissed on the cheek. “Close enough, for now.” The fight is broken up quickly as Amanda raised her hands and sent everyone involved sprawling onto their backs. Ethlinn watches as Amanda approached her, though she recoiled in slight fear as Amanda glared at her. “Don’t try this again. I am much too busy to be watching over the actions of a little girl with an artifact far too powerful to leave in her possession.” Growling lowly, Ethlinn nods, though makes it no secret she didn’t like being talked down to. Amanda then turns her attention to Alicia. “The same goes for you.” She then moves on to deal with a couple of dwarves who hadn’t seemed to understand the message as they continued to fight each other.

Ethlinn then turns to Alicia and motions her away, though with a smile on her lips. “Go back to your civilized friends. Maybe I will see you again sometime.”

Alicia looks at Ethlinn, a smile still on her lips, despite the light scolding. She had suddenly found a great deal of joy in the evening’s events: as opposed to the rather more distasteful events with Xavier, earlier in the night. “I would very much like that.” She turns towards the opposite direction of the drunken brawl. After taking a few steps, she pivots on her heel, blowing a kiss in the princess’ direction. She had no idea why, it just felt...right. After that, she finishes walking away from the Amazonian princess, a much happier spring in her step.

As both Amanda and Alicia leave, Ethlinn’s staff glows slightly. Giving it a gentle pat, she quietly turns and moves back into the crowd. Yet, nearby, she noticed Aslo and Florence having a conversation, and they were looking at her. “Damnable men.” She mutters quietly, realizing they were looking at her on occasion. “Oh well…” She looks up at the ceiling and smiles. There was at least one pleasant moment for her this evening.

Interlude Collab
Fahim + Laenaia

---

Laenaia had come to the Ball in her newest dress and best face. Her dress, despite the silken material, seemed simple but both the coloration and pattern seemed to unnaturally accentuate her beauty, emphasising her wispy, slender figure and innocent face. She was sure that to some, she looked like a living doll with how her kindly blue eyes looked at other people and blond hair framing her face. After the introduction, the Blades were left to their own devices and Laenaia meant to attempt to introduce herself to the lists of people attending the Ball. That plan, however, was changed when she locked eyes with one of the Free Holds consorts before they both walked away. She was sure that she had never met him before yet somehow his face felt familiar but importantly, there was an uncharacteristic anger bubbling from inside her as she saw his face.

Distracted with the thought, Laenaia turned on her heel and looked for the male with irritating face. She doubt she could focus until she could get an answer on why she felt like that upon seeing his face. Coming up to the person, Laenaia gave him a short curtsy while studying his face closer, "Greetings, my name is Laenaia, forgive my interruption, but may we talk for a moment?"

Fahim turned to face Laenaia, and tilted his head slightly in curiosity at the masqueraded woman before him. There was definitely something off, specifically about his eyes, that seemed almost emotionless as he stared at her. "What can I, a lowly bodyguard and slave, do for you, a Queen's Blade?"

Laenaia hummed before replying, "I apologize for sounding skeptical but...I feel that you're not as simple a person as that despite your claim...and that's probably why I'm...interested with you." she said, voice tinged with mild irritation. She couldn't help it, as much as she tried to act normal, the person in front of her both interest and irritate her unlike other people, even those she found irritating.

"Hm. Really now." Fahim said as a knowing smile graces his lips, slight wrinkles in his skin forming around his eyes as he looks her eye to eye, the same, lacklustre attempt at emotions seeming to emanate from them. "Then why don't you skip to the part where you claim to know things. That part is my favourite, vampire." How he knew was hard to guess, seeing as how he had the perfect poker face.

Laenaia paused, surprised to hear him figured out her nature quickly even as she tried to hide it. Had she really met him before or even before that? "I'm afraid that's not my right to say, not when parts of my own past is an unknown to me," she said sadly. "Although it could be that you were part of it, if you were, I would be thankful if you could tell me of my own past."

"No." Fahim says with a somewhat bored inflection in his voice. Quietly he starts rubbing the palm of his left hand with his right thumb. Eerily, his left hand seemed pale and largely, though not entirely, unresponsive to outside stimuli. "Your breathing is too perfect, timed, and you hide your face. You are also... Cold. There is no heat from you." He glances down towards his hands. "I should know what it looks like. I've practiced more than enough myself."

This time, Laenaia didn't hide her surprise and blinked several times at him as the implication of his words dawned in her mind. "Ah...I...see, that..give me a moment please.." Laenaia stumbled on her words. Even among the few other vampires of Diana's Brood she has met, none expressed an ability to disguise themselves better than hers. "That answers it...." she said after gathering her thoughts. "I shall take your points and strife to be better at them the next time we run into each other, senior."

"Senior? Am I truly that old?... I can't remember that far back, now you have me at the disadvantage." Fahim chuckles as he lowers his hands to his sides and looks her over. "That still does not answer my question."

Laenaia returned with a smile. "I suppose not...what answer do you wish to hear?"

"The honest one." He states plainly, now looking a little uncomfortable. "Is there something you want?"

"Nothing other than curiosity," She said before adding apologetically. "or trying to find out why you irked me. Maybe it was jealousy talking, a realization that you're simply better than I am before I realized it myself."

"Maybe. Still, if curiosity is all that you have, that is a desire, a feeling, not something you want of me, but a feeling that is a result of looking upon me." Fahim shakes his head. "This is a pointless conversation. You know not what you want, do you?"

"Is it really that bad of a thing?" Laenaia tilted her head and giggled. "I guess I didn't know what I want but I may figure out something...I'd say companionship although that probably a bit...unlikely?"

"Unlikely?" Fahim repeats softly, and with a hint of curiosity. "Why would you say that?"

"Our work obligations, I assume would hinder meetings, at the very least, we won't be in a situation to talk freely," Laenaia muttered.

"Perhaps." Fahim says with a small smile on his lips. "We could always be pen pals." A chuckle seems to escape him as he looks her over. "How long have you been a vampire?"

Laenaia opened her mouth before closing it, "I...did not think of that," she said. "That would work. As for that question, I'm not sure myself, at least fifteen years but that was as far back as I could remember, other than that, what I can recall from my memories are bits and pieces, not exactly something I can measure time with. What I can do doesn't help either."

"It has its advantage, so I'm not complaining about it," she finished before waving an arm at him. "How about you? How long have you been in...your position?"

"I do not know." Fahim says, bluntly and truthfully with a shrug. "I know I have lived many lives I cannot remember. See... I... When I use my... Abilities, I cannot defy the laws of biology. At least, not for long periods of time." He demonstrates by molding his hand slowly, into a larger one, with short claws instead of fingers. "My default state is one that attempts to mimic the nearest living animal. Once I am sufficiently injured or otherwise, I return to my regular state, and that means no brain. No brain means no memories. No memories means that everything I was, is gone. This lifetime, I am Fahim. Who knows what I was before." He changes his hand back to the form it was before. "I am able to retain memories and other key things in my non-human forms, but only briefly before I start to lose them. So in a way, I am... Only... Twelve years old."

"That's...grim," Laenaia stated, her brows knitted to a frown and sighed. "I suppose the only thing I could offer is for you to live long?"

"Hopefully this life time will last long, yes." Fahim states as he looks around the room, seeing Rashad he smiles a little. "I can do good here."

Laenaia smiled at Fahim, extending a hand to him, "Let's wish each other for luck then, until we meet again, or exchanged a letter. Hopefully by then, I can discern the signs better so I wouldn't find you based on how one irritate me."

"Hopefully." Fahim shakes her hand with a bit of uncertainty. "Cold, indeed." He mutters as he bows his head respectfully.

"Another I shall try to circumvent," Laenaia giggled. She then bowed her head similarly to Fahim. "I've taken enough of your time, I bid you farewell."

"Farewell, Laenaia." Fahim keeps his head bowed and turns away to other business.

"I think politicians are worse than farm work. Farm work is honest work, at least." -Queen Kouri, Page 1.

---

Mikan & Rayvon

(Optional collab: Mikan and Rayvon. Purely character advancement.)

---

Shortly after the ball ended Rayvon ascended through the castle, following Mikan's instructions for a private meeting. Knocking on a wooden door in a stone hall, she would hear someone stumbling and after a few moments, the door creaks open to reveal the smiling face of a nine year old. "Hi! Mommy said to expect someone." He says shyly as he pushes his cowboy hat down to try and hide his burgeoning blush. "You're pretty."

Rayvon, having had her shoulders squared and arms locked behind her back relaxes at the sight of the small caballero. She smiles slightly and loosens her hands, reaching out and ruffling the hat upon his head. "Hey there, handsome man... Is your mother busy?..." She tries not to peer over his head to scan the room, but she does anyways, scanning the room beyond and taking in the scene beyond. She could sense Mikan nearby regardless of her inability to see her. The sense of the corruption prickling ever so slightly. She tries to keep her smile upon her face though as she focuses her faze back upon the boy, though. "That's a very nice hat you have. Where did you get it?"

"I dunno... Mommy came home with it one day." The child replies as he looks back with her into their quarters. They were rather large, with separate bedrooms for both of them, even, along with a common living space. Luxury, really, by most standards of single mothers. Mikan strolls out into the common room, and noticing Rayvon, ushers her inside. "Come in, come in, thanks for coming so quickly." She says, her hands shaking a little. At the ball, she had managed to convince herself to wear a dress. Here at her home, it was nothing but shorts and a loose fitting shirt. Instinctively, Mikan recoils around a corner, only keeping her head peeked out. Partially knowing Rayvon's nature, and partially because of gut feelings that Rayvon gave her. Looking at her son, she smiled gently and motioned him to his room. "You've met the stranger, now go to your room and get some sleep, it's way too late for you."

She gives a small wave to the child as he departs giving him a kind smile before looking to Mikan uncertainly, walking past the door and awkwardly closing it behind her after checking that no one had followed. "I did not know you had a son," she says, an honest note of surprise in her voice as she stares at the door, uncertain if he would be listening in at the door like she used to many a time as a child.

Mikan quickly motions Rayvon over, into her room. "Well, good, it means I'm keeping him safe from adventure... Has his father's fiery blood in him." She mentions softly as she enters her room, a little sway in her hips as she curled her fingers a few times to try and battle off the shakes. Her room was lit by candles, though most prominently her bed which sat by an open window. A large, queen sized bed, that gave away more about her life style than she would likely care to admit to Rayvon at this moment. She sits quietly on her bed, looking up at Rayvon to close the door.

Rayvon furrows her brow, closing the door quietly and stays by the door, staring across at Mikan as she folds her arms across the silk tunic over her chest. "I would not have guessed it from the shy child I just saw, but, that was just a stranger meeting a child for the first time. I hear children always act different around me, anyways..." She lets her gaze take in the room with curiosity, never having taken in such a scenery before and it was unusual to her. Almost like a shrine to sleep. "Of course, on to other matters... I will be honest, It is unusual, you know, for it to be requested of me to speak in private. It is not very often that I do not speak in the open, leave alone be asked to the home of the spymaster herself."

"Well, this is a personal matter, not one of the affairs of state." Mikan says softly with a sigh as she looks at her hands. Still shaking... Drat. "You can sense it, I know you can... I also know you can... Help me. Not completely, I know, but..." Mikan looks up to Rayvon patting her bed sheets and motioning for Rayvon to sit with her. "... I need your help. So I can keep doing my duty to the crown... If you will. Help me, that is." She says with a giggle.

Rayvon shuffles uncomfortably before edging closer and sitting beside Mikan. She swallows nervously and begins to raise a hand up before pausing. "It's not a complete process, not yet. I... I am not a real angel and am still learning, but I can ease it. And I will, as much as I can, as often as I can as long as you want me to..." She shifts her hand, brushing back Mikan's hair. "I'm not going to tell you what you should and should not do... that is... for you to decide... But do not feel like it is a burden. It is my duty and I am happy to do so." She smiles awkwardly and folds her hands in her lap, shrugging slightly.

Mikan quietly grasps Rayvon's hands and grins childishly. "Well you help me and I'll help you then. Just... Do what you can. I have no idea how this works." She squeezes Rayvon's hands, then scoots herself to be close to Rayvon. "So... What do you do?"

Rayvon closes her eyes before raising a hand and places it over Mikan's heart. She takes a deep breath before raising the other and placing it over Mikan's brow. Mind. Heart. Under her breath, Rayvon begins to utter the litany of the purification as her father had taught her so long ago, that Gabriel had allowed her to control her emotions better of recently. She controls her emotions and her breath begins to come out in wisps of light and flow into Mikan. The darker corruption begins to flow out of Mikan and in through Rayvon's hands slowly.

The Aasimar begins to feel it slowly and shudder. It begins to feel prickling in her skin. The room begins to feel hotter and her breath begins to quicken. Beneath her hands she suddenly begins to notice the flesh beneath her hands, warm and soft. Her cheeks grow flushed and she begins to open her eyes ever so slight and see glistening emerald eyes staring back at her. Her breath catches and suddenly the connection severs. She jerks back, panting and staring at Mikan, eyes wide as she stares upon the spymaster upon the bed. "I..." She swallows and shudders, tugging at her clothes that suddenly felt a lot more silken upon her. "Did it work?..."

Mikan looks at her hands. They had stopped shaking, and she sighs with relief, though seeing Rayvon's eyes told her enough. "I am, but..." She frowns a little. "That was... Fast, too fast, I think..." Without a moment's hesitation she brushes a hand gently against Rayvon's cheek. "I can tell... You feel a piece of it now, don't you."

She blushes and nods slightly, withdrawing some from her hand, fighting the urge to lean in against her hand. "I... It should pass..." She shivers and shifts her legs, eyes passing over Mikan as if taking her in for the first time.

Mikan giggles, realizing Rayvon's naivety and stretches, intentionally pushing out her chest. "Like what you see now that you see it with different eyes?" Teasing Rayvon playfully, she grasps Rayvon's arms and pulls her further onto the large bed. "Lay down on your stomach. You're staying here for tonight... A lot of people would take advantage of you like this, and I have to repay you for what you've done for me anyway."

She chews her lip before nodding compliantly. The paladin shifts with a small squeak, moving further onto the bed while watching Mikan, drawing her arms closer about herself as she moves onto her belly. "Sorry to be a bother... I was not sure that would actually happen, though, the person who taught me said there was a chance..." She swallows nervously, watching the way Mikan's body moves. There was no doubt in her mind that the demons in the ballroom had been succubi now.

"Heh..." Mikan's grin turns to a softer smile. "I have two people who teach me things too..." Firmly placing one of her knees between Rayvon's legs she leans over-top of Rayvon, then rests her hands on Rayvon's upper back. "You're nervous... The tension in your muscles is ridiculous, I won't hurt you... Relax." Slowly the palms of her hands push into her back, and start gently caressing and moving, massaging gently. Immediately a few dozen cracks resound through the room. "... You've also never had a massage." Mikan giggles.

She lets out a grunt of surprise before shuddering with an appreciative groan. "What heavenly torture..." She closes her eyes and slowly lets herself sink into the down bedding. "Very well... If you promise no tricks... and to keep such wonderful magic up... I can let down my guard for now..."

Slowly, though rhythmically, her hands move down Rayvon's back, following the length of her spine, until reaching her lower back. With a playful giggle she slips her hands underneath the shirt to massage the bare skin at the lower back, only to feel the hint of something. A slight frown crosses her lips as she lifts Rayvon's silk shirt further, to her mid back, revealing the scars. Breathlessly her fingers softly trace the scars. "... It's true... Oh... I am so sorry..." Still, her hands continue to massage Rayvon after a brief moment, now a little harder to get at the deeper points of tension. "You needn't worry... I won't whisper to a soul."

Rayvon fidgets at the contact on the scar tissue before cooing softly and burying her face against the bed. "As long as you do not tell," she whispers, her voice trembling with repressed feelings.

Mikan seems to ponder for a moment before suddenly pulling the silk shirt up to Rayvon's neck. Slipping herself up so that her leg was between Rayvon's thighs, she kisses the back of Rayvon's neck, then leans down and wraps her arms around her belly. Falling beside her, she holds Rayvon close, and kisses the back of Rayvon's neck once again. "Turn around..." She whispers softly. "No funny business..."

Still shivering from the kisses from the back of her neck, she nods slowly and submits to following the request. She turns around slowly, opening her eyes and waits for what Mikan had planned. Her breath coming in uneven, shaking rasps.

As Rayvon rolls over, she would see Mikan slipping her shirt off. All over her abdomen were several scars, some small, some large. Some long and straight, others wide and jagged. Mikan's gentle smile is the next thing she would see. "I'm frail too. Legend though I may be." Her leg remains between Rayvon's thighs as she pulls Rayvon in closely, nuzzling into her neck. "Whatever feelings or emotions coursing through you, underneath... Let them go... You are not alone, and I will be here." She looks Rayvon eye to eye and gently rubs her nose against Rayvon's nose. "Whether that's giving into your desires, or letting some of your pain go... You helped with my burden. I will help with yours." She continues to look Rayvon eye to eye, lust in her eyes, but also genuine empathetic care, matching her words. "Just let go..."

She takes in the sight with confusion, the zig-zagging lines and cross-hatching scars with horror as her jaw hangs open. She swallows as her mouth tries to work with words before she shakes her head, giving up. She finally does something, drawing Mikan tight in her arms and buries her face against her as she chokes out a sob. The tears do not stop as the floodgate breaks down and stream begins to pour through relentlessly, shaking her whole body with the fit of release.

Ushering further words of comfort and calm, Mikan holds Rayvon for the rest of the night until they both fall into a deep sleep. Possible some of the best sleep either of them will have had in weeks.

---

Mikan & Taigyn

(Optional collab: Taigyn and Mikan. Same story as above: Character advancement.)

---

Taigyn grunts and gets up from the the sheets in the guest quarters he was assigned. He scratches the scruff of his beard and the stubble that had grown. He smiles slightly, tugging at the silk shift he had donned late the night before and goes over to the basin, unpacking his supplies to find the grooming kit to trim himself up and frowning in the polished steel mirror at the glints of silver peeking through his rusty blonde hair. "You really are getting old... Imagine how bad you would be feeling if you had drunk like some of the others," he chuckles, cleaning his razor in the water before washing his face with a towel and retrieving clothes to change for the day.

As he retrieves his clothes, there's a knock at his door. Likely a maid with his morning meal, or a friend come to greet him.

Tightening his belt and slipping on his leather boots still, he shuffles awkwardly to the door. He grunts and raises his chin, hair still wet and slicked back as he fumbles for the door with one hand in his disarray. Friend or maid, he hardly cared if they saw him in his disarray and none of the other dignitaries would be so mad (or used to, would they?) to call him at such hours that were normally befit to working class and military folk only, surely.

The door opens, revealing a somewhat tall maid with distinctly feminine curves underneath her dress. Her face is obscured by a hood, but the tray of food she's carrying makes her purpose clear. "Are you hungry?" She asks, her voice immediately familiar though not quite recognizable.

Taigyn pauses for a moment, stomach grumbling at the intoxicating scent of the food and the sight of the food but the familiar ring to that voice throws him off for a moment. He pauses for a moment, alarm bells begin to go off in his head, as some of Davian's words sound off in his head. Cautiously, he raises a hand and whispers a word of magic beneath his breath. A soft breeze rolls out from his palm and washes warmly with glimmers of light against her cheeks before knocking back the hood to reveal...

...Mikan, who smiles and blushes slightly as she taps the floor with one of her feet. "Oh gosh mister, is this how you flirt with all the maids or just me?" A bubbly, ever so familiar giggle escapes her lips as she grabs a piece of bacon and nibbles on the end of it suggestively. "No poison."

He chuckles and rolls his shoulder nonchalantly, "Only the ones too dangerous to be maids..." He watches her chew on the bacon with a pout, scratching his beard, "And since it is not poison, I think... I would most definitely enjoy some." He clutches his belly in show, "My power, ugh, it is waning, help a poor man."

"Mm... I think I can manage that." She says teasing him as she brings the piece of bacon to his lips. "How's this?" She says, feigning innocence as she stretches, showing off her rather attractive figure.

Taigyn takes a bite, accidentally sucking upon her finger as he takes notice of her stretching from the peripheral of his eye. His cheeks begin to flush with colour as he straightens himself up and swallows with a slight splutter. After choking down the last of his food, he ruffles through his hair, "That was, ah, rather nice..."

"Aww, just nice?" With a little exaggeration her lip quivers, before she looks at Taigyn's blushing face. "I think it was a little more than nice." She says, sliding closer to him and hugging him. "Guess I will need to work on it before I go to the Free Holds, huh?"

He pauses before smiling and draping his arms about her waist. "Are you just playing with me again, Fox... Or am I suppose to be expecting something else?" He searches her face for an answer, not that he had ever found anything other than her teasing him for the past ten years.

"Whoever said I was just playing, Templar..." Mikan whispers as she brings a finger across his lips. "You just didn't hear me right years ago." She draws closer to him still, pushing herself against him. "Ever wanted to catch the Green Fox?" She says with a giggle.

He raises a hand up, caressing a hand along her cheek, confusion apparent upon his face for a moment. Not just at her words but from a menagerie of emotions running through him. He opens his mouth before sighing and leaning in, kissing her brow. "I always have. I thought that was clear. I just never wanted to share you with others. I never thought we could be with my returning to Rheinfeld, either. How could that ever be fair to either of us?..."

Mikan sighs and looks around Taigyn. Noticing the bed as the best possible option, she shakes her head slowly. "You are such a stubborn man..." Suggestively sliding her leg up against his, she leans on him and rests her arms around his neck, feeling comfortable with his arms around her waist. "It's been ten years... We made it through all manner of terrible things, and yet, more awaits us around the corner... I mean, you're going back to a civil war, I'm going to infiltrate the Free Holds in the same place I nearly... Well..." She looks away from him, towards the floor. "This might really be the only chance either of us has before we are dead, married, or married and dead." She giggles, then goes up onto the tips of her toes, brushing her lips against his. "Trust me..."

Taigyn pulls her tighter against him, kissing her hard upon the lips and rumbles, "I do trust you..." He frowns and rests his brow to hers, keeping her close against her, "But what would be so wrong if I were to ask you to marry me, hmm?..." His hands explore along her waist before slipping along to her hand, slipping his fingers between hers. "Would that be so terrible a fate?..."

"Is that a proposition?..." Mikan mumbles against his lips. "I would not be the right woman for that... But... Marriage... Taigyn, honey. Marriage doesn't make love..." She gently pushes him towards his bed, still intent on getting what she wanted, but nonetheless continuing to try to get through his crusty exterior. "Taigyn... I love you, I do. And I will stand with you until we are both long dead. Until you find someone to marry, but... Well." One of her hands slides down his chest, then lightly grasps between his legs. "Someone has got to teach you how to use this... And..." Her hand then drifts up to his chest. "... This. And if all of this is over, and its just you and me at the end... You can bet we will talk about marriage."

A grunt comes from him at her roaming hands as he grasps her chin and tugs her in for a demanding kiss, unable to think of words for a few spinning moments. Stalling, caught in that moment, he tries to recollect his thoughts, "Fine, but do not think I will let it go so easily... But for now... I think you may have a point..." An expression passes over his face, far more primal and unrefined than anything Mikan would have seen as he rolls them both over, pinning her beneath him as he growls from deep in his chest. "Right now, something has been to build far too long, Fox..."

"Oh my~" Mikan replies as her breath catches in her throat. In a moment he became so... Commanding. She responds by wrapping her legs around his waist, then leaning up to whisper in his ear. "There is nothing under this dress..." She giggles, then groans meekly. "And oh, it seems I've been captured..."

Taigyn smirks as he leans down, brushing his lips tenderly against hers as his hands roam exploratively along her body as he had only imagined so many times across the years. "I am not much of a mage... But I bet I can make that dress disappear," he jokes crudely.

Biting her lip with excitement she giggles as she rolls them over, sitting on his waist gleefully as she starts to unbutton and loosen her dress. "We'll see how long it takes a thief to get through your clothes..."

---

Imperium - Anima Aeternum

---

Having departed from the Mage's Guild with guides into magical network of hallways and corridors, Raen Delaeseris Elvarasi, Aslo, Doctor Steven Adian Gremlock, Murderok, & Gryff all arrive in the Imperium's small mage's outpost. It was nothing glorious to look at, with a meagre detachment of mostly young recruits from the Imperium. Quickly ushered away on horseback, they arrived in a small port, where Florence Merryweather joined up with them. Sailing across the Blood Sea, they quickly came to the island referenced: There, only one hill stood eerily in the centre of the island, which was nothing more than blood soaked rock. There was a small detachment of Imperium soldiers, though once again they looked fairly young and inexperienced. On the north side of the hill was a dug out entrance through almost a quarter of a mile of rock, belying the deep, reinforced structure underneath the island. Immediately, Steven Gremlock would recognize two familiar things: The scent of gunpowder, and the feeling of rather potent magic coming from within.

Walking deeper inside, Florence ordered his men to stay behind save for two, grabbed a number of torches, and proceeded down into the catacombs. Traveling the short distance with ease, they come upon a doorway, tall and proud. It was at this point that Florence finally began to explain things to them. "Before the nightmarish cataclysm that struck us, the sea as it is now was not as large as it was then. While we had indeed dug underground corridors, we had not exactly accounted for magic to nearly drown this entire island of what was once a small but productive colonia. While I oversaw the construction of this place, that was ten thousand years ago... I'm not sure if I will clearly remember the passages we tread in." He strolls forward and rests his hand over the ancient door. It had been constructed impressively to survive ten thousand years, but what few Imperial ruins and the like that remained were remarkable wonders of construction.

Florence then opens the door simply and plainly. Even he seemed surprised however by how well preserved the door was as it opened without any issue. More surprising was the lit torches inside. Without warning, a loud, raspy voice echoes out to them.

"Welcome new Voices! The Choir will be thanking you, personally, for freeing it and the Others. For returning the voices ripped from the Choir... One of them, anyway." Florence squints as he looks inside, seeing torches lit on dust free stone walls he gritted his teeth and scowled. "Magic." He says with distaste as he looks back to the Queen's Blades. "Now you know why I brought you." He motions for them to lead the way, then quickly returns his hand to his gladius. He was equipped in typical heavy armour for an Imperial soldier, metal plates and a large shield, along with a pair of pilum on his back. His two soldiers shared the same armament.

Inside, the doorway quickly left them with a simple choice: Walking down a tight corridor to the left or to the right. It had just enough space for Gryff and Murderok to stand side by side, but no more than that. Florence looks inside, and look of concentration reaches his eyes. "The one to the left... Leads... To the armoury. The one to the right leads to... A dining hall. Either path would be sufficient for moving towards the artifact chamber. It is your lead. My men and I will follow."

---

Rheinfeld - Scheideweg

---

Unlike others who were able to use the Mage's Guild, Draza Zorya, Zayn, Zinnarath "Zin" Corsys, Laenaia, and Kasim Ambilus had to go on horseback across the mountains to the north. Though they traveled with the Templar Order, the Rheinfeld Republic took a different path to the same location along the border, near Tempel Des Vaters. Passing near the temple gave the group a small sense of the sheer level of power that the traditionally religious institutes held: It was a temple the size of a small city surrounded with enough defenses to take on a half a dozen besieging armies, decorated in gold and silver though never to a degree that would suggest waste of gaudiness. Many of the Templar Order stopped there, though a few, such as Taigyn and Davian, continued on with them, keeping them safe from wandering bandits and mercenaries hellbent on killing them.

As the group finally reached the meeting grounds they saw several rather humble looking tents, stretched out and about over grassy plains with only the occasional tree in sight. It looks like there may have been farms nearby at some point, though they've been abandoned for some time as their fields have been completely overrun with grass and weeds, and livestock have long since left. At the centre of the tents was a single, large tent. By the time they had arrived, it was late in the afternoon, and the guards were changing from afternoon to evening watch. Davian sighs with relief as he dismounts his horse and looks to the Queen's Blades. Bowing his head respecfully, he motions towards the interior of the camp. "Finally, we are here. Out in the middle of nowhere, and quite vulnerable... Impressive, no?" Taigyn gives him a disparaging look as Davian clears his throat. "What I meant to say is, be careful. The discussions will start shortly I would imagine, and one cannot be too sure."

Looking around the camp, Zayn & Laenaia would quickly notice a few of the Crusaders eying them and looking at their weapons. One in particular had a cloak on that just screamed to them of the assassins back in the Free Holds.

Kasim, on the other hand, noticed that and something else. The Crusaders eying their weapons all seemed to put extra effort in keeping a little distance from the main tent, for one reason or another, while the cloaked figure was a woman. He could swear seeing a few of the Republican soldiers behaving in this manner as well, though couldn't confirm it due to them being on the other side of the large, main tent.

It seemed that Taigyn and Davian were somewhat uneasy, though for different reasons as they looked in the distance towards an abandoned barn. "Alida is unaccounted for." Davian says suspiciously as Taigyn narrows his eyes looking at the barn. "We should rectify this. Davian, find her and ensure she is safe." Davian stares at Taigyn with slight annoyance momentarily before nodding begrudgingly. "Right... Of course, me. The one she threw a dagger at." Taigyn smiles a little smugly. "Don't say anything and you'll be fine." Davian leaves without any further protest towards the Republican side of the camp, leaving the party there to decide what to do in the meantime.

---

Liveria - Heaven's Haven

---

Traveling through the Mage's Guild's networks of halls and corridors proved to be an easy feat with the right guides leading the way. Travel which should have taken hours instead took minutes as they arrived in an outpost near the northern border of Liveria. It was at this point that Crown-Prince Xavier split off from the group, giving a brief hug and wish of good luck to his daughter, he returned to the capital on horseback. Meanwhile, Mira led them to stables where they could pick from a small variety of mounts, and led Elbetrt Westfeld, Rayvon Krayvitch, Andrea Llolth'Allin, Ceann, and Elrithos "Sand Runner" to the northern mountains. Stretching tall and thick, and spreading east to west for hundreds of miles, the geographical wonder of the world held many secrets. Most of which were very deadly and anywhere between hundreds of years to a couple thousand years old. Things such as decaying magical barriers back in the time of the first Renalta that used to keep the predecessor nation to Rheinfeld away from her borders.

There was one brief stop as they reached the foothills, human skulls were on sticks with signs written in a mixture of blood and ink. Judging from the looks of it, these were signposts marking territory, for the orcish tribes most likely. "Brazen fools to mark themselves so close to us." Mila remarks with distaste. Helénē frowned as she peered into the empty eye sockets. "Why are they so brutal..." Mila shakes her head. "Because they are orcs. They are a brutal race, like many of the savage races." Helénē seems to bite her tongue, though it was plain she disagreed with the sentiment that their race defined their identity. Gabriel, on the other hand, remained silent, his gold eyes looking across the hills as a slight shudder ran down his spine, though otherwise remained silent, allowing the Liverians to lead the way.

Riding further past the sign posts, Elrbetrt could swear she occasionally heard the sounds of feet sliding along rocks, smaller feet, followed with larger ones a little further back, but only one or two steps before their own movement would drown it out. As well, the further they traveled up into the mountains, the more thick the air became with the smell of unbathed, grimy, sometimes even rotting flesh.

First Gabriel reacted, suddenly jerking his head in seemingly random directions and attempting to pierce through the stone walls to see what was around them. "I sense evil... But it's too dangerous to fly to check." Rayvon, then, too, slowly began to notice a general sense of malevolence in the area. It seemed being near Gabriel was amplifying her abilities somewhat. "The orcs?" Mila replies sharply as her eyes continue to scan the horizon. Gabriel shakes his head. "No. The orcs are savage, but not inherently... Evil. There's... Some inherent wrongness here. Something completely... Twisted. Malformed. Borne straight from the Nine Hells." Helénē looks between Rayvon and Gabriel with fear in her eyes. "F-From the Nine Hells?" The flying gecko on her shoulder starts squeaking, then looks up into the sky. Helénē's gaze follows it. There were rain clouds coming in towards them, which had been largely obstructed by mountains. It wouldn't take long before the rain would start.

As Mila orders them all to stop in a small clearing, both Ceann and Elrithos would immediately notice some auspiciously placed boulders ahead of them, that didn't form a natural pattern to the others that had fallen in landslides over time. The dirt around them also had recently been disturbed, indicating that some of it had been moved, possible in large quantities. They were only a few dozen feet away from an ambush if they kept going forward. Mila had seemed to notice this too as she brought her hand behind her back and used sign language to signify danger, though only the Drow and Helénē seemed to pick up on it. "What should we do now?" Helénē whispers, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a blade. Gabriel looks to Rayvon and nods, likely confirming whatever suspicions she had about this being an ambush. He then rests his hands on thighs, having no apparent weapons on him, though plenty of magic at his disposal. "We wait." He states as Mila looked back at him with confusion. "We should strike while we have the chance." She whispers to him, in a hushed tone. "Strike out at unknown numbers with unknown strength when we know something of great evil is near. Unwise. Let them come to us." Gabriel replies as Mila growls in annoyance and looks back out towards the boulders.

---

Free Holds - Devil's Children

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The winding corridors and halls of the Mage's Guild led Aëyr, Abida Qisaf, and Child to their Free Hold outpost in a matter of a couple hours travel. Emerging out into an outpost located just outside of Southblood, they were given heavy cloaks and lead by Mikan into Southblood. It wasn't hard to get them inside, there seemed to be a hundred ways to slip inside undetected and the guards seemed unwary of any potential threats. What greeted them were the sights and sounds of hundreds of thousands of people, choking the city streets as caravans entered and left with near nonstop regularity. All around them crimes were happening nearly nonstop, small, petty ones. At one point, Child even noticed a thief stealing a purse, only to have his purse taken by another thief as he fled from his victim. Abida Qisaf's unnatural vision would be utterly drowned in the sheer number of illusions that others wore. All sorts of magic ranging from cheap and weak to subtle and ingenious was used. She was fairly sure, even, that there were some who were likely evading her eyes, given the overwhelming feeling she felt from her tattoos at all times that there was something watching them.

Deeper inside the town, Mikan leads them to the entrance of the Keep. It was dusk at this point, and inside it seemed a ball was about to be thrown as guests were starting to arrive. However, they all knew what it was really for: A slave auction. A regular occurrence wherein the 'best goods' were sold in a celebratory party. Usually attractive women, foreign fighters, brutish thugs of the oversized variety--all meat and no bones, as some put it. Mikan then looks to the trio and motions them in close, a large grin on her face as she pulls them into a huddle within the large crowd. "Ookay! Here's the options we got." She looks around, noticing that some of the slavers were eying her. She was attractive, despite her brown cloak, her curves and slender frame showed through. Leaning over to huddle with the group even slightly wasn't helping either. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she turns back to the group and whispers to them. "Alright. So. We have three ways in. We can pretend to be slaves for sale. We'll be led in a back way by Fahim, who will pose as a seller. We then assassinate the guards leading us to the cages, and from there, either make a beeline for the ball room and kill Deimos while he sits in his chair, or wait and ambush him when he returns to his quarters, likely with his prize for the night."

A man then approaches them, bumping into Mikan he drops a note for her. Kneeling down to pick it up, it was written in common, clear for them all to read. "You are clear. Nobody is listening. I'll bump you again if someone is. --Fahim." Giggling childishly, Mikan then goes back to what she was saying to them, still in a hushed tone. "I wish he did that earlier. Anyway, the second option is we walk in, only I will be the only pseudo slave. A common practice by hold owners is to hold a... 'Dancing' competition, of sorts, where owners attempt to have their slaves woo over the ruler of the hold. You would all be my 'team', your goal of course being to ruin the other dancer's performances subtly, to support my dance and attempt to get attention on it, and to stop others from disrupting me. I easily have the... Persuasive ability to win over Deimos, unlike most slaves who are forced to do such things, I enjoy it and know how to do it well. If he picks me then we will be guided to his quarters, you all serving as my guards in case he wants to buy me. The moment his back is turned, he dies quietly in his own quarters. This is the most surefire way to do it safely and silently... It's also the most fun." Again, she giggles, looking around to make sure nobody was listening, she adds the last of the three options.

"The last option is that we head back to a tavern rented out by Fahim. He has a whole group of Rashad's most loyal men. Again, we sneak into the ballroom with me being a pseudo slave for Fahim to give us cover, only this time they would serve as bait, starting a large fight in the ball room. This would allow us to try and get close to Deimos and kill him before he knew we were threats to him, though finding his succubi second in command afterwards would be hardest with this option, this is most definitely the fastest way to do it." She looks them all over and smiles a little. "It's your choice."

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Amazons - The Greatest Hunt

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Traveling with the Imperium group through the Mage's Guild's magical network of hallways and corridors, Maeven Lucre, Naream Baenre, Alicia, Russel, and Esyllt Boudica, also arrived at the same, small Mage's Guild outpost in the Imperium. However they then immediately got on horseback, and began to ride north through the Imperium. Within hours they arrived in the Amazonian Jungle, and with Princess Ethlinn leading the way with her Amazons, what would have likely taken them several days instead took them a mere hour or so to reach the closest Amazonian village. Much of it was built up in the extremely thick canopy, as the trees were several feet large it was entirely possible for some of them to be hollowed out and lived in. There were also small buildings and tents, cleverly disguised amongst the shrubbery and making the village look more like a campsite than a place where hundreds of people lived.

Soon enough it became apparent that this society was more lax on its personal behaviours than the others. Women and men alike wore openly provocative clothing, though part of it was simply being practical for the absurd heat it was obviously designed to induce other kinds of heat. Even Ethlinn seemed to dislike wearing her drake scale armour, constantly readjusting it and sighing with dismay every time an Amazon walked past wearing something she liked. Yet, it wasn't quite what the Free Hold's adult literature industry would have everyone believe it to be: Many of the female Amazons had battle scars, ranging from minor to utterly deformed, even some of the men had scars, though they were smaller in stature, likely due to not drinking from the river of blood like the Amazons do. Still, none of them tried to hide their blemishes, in fact, many seemed to wear them with pride. Depending on the view this society was either alarmingly progressive or disturbingly sexualized.

Queen Alexandria followed them, also wearing relatively heavy armour and keeping her vision straight and narrow. Hanging gently from her neck was a small pendant with a blue gem encrusted in it, and on her gloved hand was a silver ring. Both of these things she glanced at every time an Amazon looked her way and did anything more than simply smile politely, which was fairly consistently.

Maeven would notice the tension in the air wherever Princess Ethlinn went. People seemed to look at her with an air of uncertainty. Despite her youth and status, more people were even paying flirtatious looks towards Alexandria or herself, which seemed odd, surely they would be more attracted to their own kind, though she couldn't be sure.

Alicia didn't notice anything really out of the ordinary beyond how shiny her blade seemed in such a humid environment. Neat!

Finally being lead inside of a rather large and old tree, an elderly woman welcomed them inside, though confusion was plain on her face as Princess Ethlinn stared at her. Clearing her throat nervously, she still manages to speak in a steady tone. "These are my... New partners... In finding and quelling the beast. I take it... You have acquired the things I have asked. Narina?" The old woman shuffles her way to a small chest and opens it, motioning her wrinkled hand towards the contents. "All here, my dear." She croaks out as Ethlinn smiles warmly. "Age is treating you well." Narina chuckles. "Not many Amazons can brag about living to be forty five you know! I think I have beaten our village's record!" Alexandria seemed a little taken aback by the short lifespans, but otherwise remained silent, waiting for Ethlinn to simply get on with her plan.

And Ethlinn almost seemed to sense that as she turned and looked Alexandria eye to eye for a moment flirtatiously before turning her attention to the Queen's Blades, though she seemed to admire each of them as well, for differing reasons. "The beast we are hunting is a malformed drake. Drakes are already heavily armoured, potent creatures. My armour is made out of their scales, and is able to withstand a Free Holder's heaviest crossbow at all but point blank range." She pats her shoulder plates and smiles, her eyes drifting to Alexandria's armour. "They're also light and easy to slip off, just in case of emergencies." Alexandria shakes her head and brings one of her gloved hands up, blatantly showing off her ring. Ethlinn sighs and continues speaking. "They are able to spit acid short distances though they always bring their head up to gargle their acid first, giving you a chance to attack their throats if you're close enough. They are powerful enough to destroy small trees, though this one can blatantly charge through... Well... Anything, so don't count on cover keeping you safe. They're a little slow at turning, but have great forward momentum. Do not be in its way or it will catch you and it will rip you apart." She hesitates for a moment, seeming to cringe at a memory that mentioning its abilities conjured. "I do, however, have a plan."

Quickly breaking her gaze away from some of the more attractive members of the group she walks over to the chest and pulls out several lengths of very thick, very tough looking vines. "These are enchanted to withstand nearly anything." She then displays the tips on the vines. They were coated in a small, green liquid. "This is a sleeping poison. If we can jam enough of these into its hide, we can slow it down and eventually knock it out, then tie it down. Then your... Mages... Can come and get it, if they so wish to have it alive." Standing up, she motions to small hooks on each of the vines. "We can attach these to your strange ranged weapons. The vines are sturdy enough that they won't be damaged, even by your... Your... Loud, sticks." She motions to Maeven's gun, then looks at Alexandria again and smiles as she walks back to stand close to the group once again, a little extra predatory sway to each step, though she kept enough distance to accommodate their personal comforts.

"There is, however, one problem... There is a succubi somewhere in our village. If we don't kill it, it'll run off to go help its larger friend, making a difficult battle nearly impossible to accomplish without further casualties... We should find this... Creature, and kill it. And I have just the thing... We've narrowed it down to just a few suspects. We've put these suspects into training duels. If we enter, you Queen's Blades could easily find this creature, it would want to take its chance attempting to poison one of you, as we're sure it would consider its own life worth sacrificing to weaken us since it will merely return to the nine hells if we slay it." The corners of her lips curl up into a hungry grin. "We catch it, we put it down, then we head out into the jungle and we take down its oversized pet... Does anyone have any questions?" She asks the group as she returns the vines to the chest momentarily.