---

“So what made you move up?” The Engineer behind the desk asked, reading over Thomas’ service transfer form. The young man standing before him, Thomas himself, looked downward for a moment, before he responded softly…

“I just… don’t feel safe out there, anymore.”

The Engineer nodded. “No worries.” He said, “Nothing wrong with wanting to feel safe. And hey, the city’s gotten quite lively over the years. It’ll be good for you.” He looked down at the paper and pressed a stamp on it, with the Engineers’ seal of approval in full red ink. He handed the paper back to Thomas and said, “Take it to the Observatory’s administrative offices. Someone’ll set you up with a temporary training course in Flesh Golem maintenance and repair.”

“I know a good bit already, actually. My mother was a Tier III.”

“Good for you then! You can skip that bit. You should be good to go by tomorrow then. Unless you need a form for housing?”

“No, that’s alright. I’ll be using my father’s residence.”

“Excellent. Take care, then.”

And with that, Thomas turned away and exited the Workshop, off to Old Voldoa.

His life as a Tier I was over.

---

And his life as a Tier II had begun.

Thomas leaned over the railing of a bridge situated over a waterway. They ran from Arboretum down throughout the Commons, eventually dissipating into a series of small tunnels leading down into the Undercity. He’d heard that, in the past, some Voldoans used to try and climb down them to see what lies beneath the ground they walk upon. Whatever happened to them afterwards, they never remembered what they saw.

He watched as Voldoans of all sorts passed by him. Some concealed in their human forms, others towering over the rest in their full glory. Furry ones, scaly ones, ones with horns, ones with tails… all kinds, all around.

It was almost kind of frightening. He’d never really been… among them.

Up until a week ago, Thomas had been working alongside his father as a Tier I. But a few too many run-ins with the Fifty-Eighters, the Order of Saint Derring, and the Silver Battalion… it was just too much for him. But his father Collin supported his final decision, in the end.

“You’ll be closer to your mother that way. I think she’d like that.”

Dear Lydia. God rest her soul.

Well, nothing much was happening at the moment. No announcements, no nearby Flesh Golems in need of repair... bit of a slow day really. Thomas detached himself from the railing and turned away, strolling down the path, passing by more and more Voldoans, wondering what to do about nothing.

Maybe something would come up.

---

---

Needles. Jars. Braces. Rods. Strings.

As Kantus placed the last bottle of some strange medicine atop a shelf, he was officially done with the week’s stocking of supplies. He glossed over the shelf full of the stuff with his unblinking eyes. He stepped back a bit, and then turned his head. He tucked his sickly gray arms back inside his coat. Rather unsightly, those things were. As an owl, he had wings. But those were hardly good for writing or lifting things, so… he remedied that when he set up this clinic quite some time ago.

Seven years.

Kantus exited the storage room, into the main wing of the clinic. Wooden floors, cabinets everywhere, ornate beds and curtains on the sides. This was more where Engineers and smaller Voldoans would be treated. Upstairs were the more situational establishments.

Kantus took a step behind the front desk, opening a log book seated on top and beginning to write inside of it. For record’s sake of course. Not that he much needed it at all, solid as his memory and sense of space were.

His assistant, however…

November 18, 4:36 PM
West Commons, Kantus' Clinic

---

Mister Iglesias,

I write to you to acknowledge your continued service to the city of Voldoa and the Engineers. And beyond mere acknowledgement, I present to you an offer. At the recommendation of another individual, I have deemed you qualified to attain a higher status as one of our Hands. Should you wish to pursue this opportunity, come to our Observatory in Old Voldoa at your earliest convenience. Show this letter to the receptionist. She will direct you to my office, and we will discuss this further.

Regards,

Hugo Tarblatt

---

Millions of thoughts ran through Martin's head, and his large, dark eyes ran over the letter a few times. Observatory? Hand status? Recommendation? He, unfortunately, didn't know many otherkin personally enough for them to have recommendations sent in his name. Hell, Kantus and Nessa had been the few he interacted with on a regular basis and, he was certain that Nessa was not a Hand. Not that that was a bad thing.

This was an unexpected surprise, and while a good one, he doubted it had been his higher up that had recommended him. The Lord of Owls was secretive and didn't speak much with him. When he did it had always been blunt, concise, and to the point. So the mystery persisted in his own mind. It could've just been a copied letter - they might've not actually gotten a recommendation, but then why contact a nurse in the West Commons? He didn't feel like he had done anything that noteable recently.

He pushed backward with his long, lanky legs and stood up, re-reading the paper as he did so and not looking where he was going, which led to him knocking over various objects and scrambling to catch them (and sometimes failing) on his way to his destination. "Kantus," he began, "Do you know anything about this? I just got it delivered with my portfolio." he said, presenting his employer with the letter of recommendation.

Kantus grabbed the letter with one of the thin, gray, human-esque arms peeking out of the folds of his coat. He gazed down at it with those large, blank eyes of his. "Right on time." He said, in his usually low voice. His beak didn't move an inch. No part of his face did. He handed the letter back to Martin. "Congratulations."

Martin blinked.

"I'll uh... I'll take that as a yes... I'll get back to work. I probably wont be able to stay afterward today like I normally do because... you get the idea." Martin said, giving Kantus his signature Cheshire grin and slowly backing out of the room to return to his work, giving the Lord Of Owls an awkward wave with his long spindly fingers before shutting the door behind him. As he shut it however, his fingers got caught in the door. There was a string of muffled curses from the other side of the door as he cracked the door again, pulled his fingers out, and shut it again.

Kantus merely shook his head.

Maybe writing that recommendation letter wasn't the best idea.

---

The wind rustled over the paper-like membranes of Knox's wings, colourful mottling almost shining as the sun passed through them. He sailed through the air, slicing a path over the street traffic like a knife. He needed to get these deliveries done and quick! Luckily he was fastest in his family, perfectly suited for running deliveries for Mr. Franzetti. To represent the Looking Glass Personal Delivery Service gave him joy enough to make the yelling and the threats almost nonexistent!

At the beginning of the day, his messenger bag was full to bursting, and over the course of his route that hadn't changed! Right now, he had one parcel to deliver and it was a decently sized one. He was making decent time, but he had never been this late with a delivery! Mr. Franzetti was going to have his antennae for this, he just knew it!

He soared and tumbled through the air as he avoided other airborne Nonhumans, very narrowly swooping down upon the street traffic at one point. If he weren't so maneuverable in midair, he could have crashed right into someone. But thankfully all they would see was a dark humanoid figure in a buttoned-up mail uniform and a squarish hat.

Knox didn't even look back as he heard the shouts of anger and annoyance, he had a delivery to make and by gum, he would make it on time.

But if he turned to look for a moment, he might have seen that his massive dip had just dropped quite a few letters. Right around an unsuspecting Thomas.

---

---

The air was frigid and blowing harshly outside. Baldwin's leaf-draped form stood by the front door of a squalid little home, fire roaring in a hearth that could be seen from one of the front windows. He suppressed a violent shiver as he cracked his signature heart-winning smile and held out an inviting hand.

"Come, dear. You'll catch your death out here in the cold. Warm yourself by the fire for a spell before you go out again."

The girl was attractive enough, though she lacked any sort of finery or adornments beyond dirty rags and... more dirt. She came with him into the house easy enough and almost rushed to the fire, huddling close to it on her knees. Skin like porcelain and hair coloured like dirty hay. He wasted no time in shedding his leafy cloak and moving to embrace her. This girl was strange, he thought as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Far too inviting. Far too... compliant.

He slowly pulled apart her blouse at the buttons, exposing her shoulders and torso to the open air. Not a bad body. Strangely clean. A golden chain upon her neck. She tilted her head and hummed softly. She was making this... easy.

Too easy.

His train of thought was interrupted as his mouth was an inch away from her carotid artery. He didn't see her pull the salve out. He only saw white and pain as it smashed against his neck. It burned like fire, but it burned deep. With an inhuman shriek, he recoiled and felt as more of the horrid concoction dripped onto his bare chest and seared what it touched there. Then he saw it, just as she began to dissolve along with the rest of their surroundings. Upon her chest, between her breasts. The cross of Saint Derring.

"Burn for your transgressions, demon."

---

A yell of terror. Baldwin jumped to sit upright in bed, searching for the source of the noise. An inhuman screech it was, filled with fear and pain. It took him a few minutes to realize that it was his own scream that he had heard. That same dream. That same nightmare, still plaguing him to this day. He put his head in his hands and took a shaky breath. Too many nights lost to the same waking feeling of burning and running.

One of his hands was wet with what he could see in the dim light of the moon to be blood. His hand, his pillow, and his sheets. All covered in small droplets of it. He must have clawed at the scars again in his sleep and reopened what should have been healed. After a short bout of makeshift cleaning of wounds and bandaging, Baldwin groaned, a slightly bestial noise as his head fell back to the slightly damp pillow. He would change the sheets and such later, for now, he needed to try and sleep more.

He would have to make another trip to Kantus.

---

Baldwin pushed his way into the clinic with a wince, dressed in his usual long-coat, dress pants, dress shoes, button-up shirt and tie. He closed the door softly before calling out. "Kantus! I've need of your medical expertise. Again." He spoke in a tone that sounded almost ashamed as he held a hand to his chest. His hands were covered by sleek, black leather gloves, and they flexed audibly as he moved to push his round eyeglasses up on the bridge of his nose. Every time, the same blasted dance, he was left waiting here while his fellow Hand shuffled things and made noise to sound busy. At least, that is what he thought.

"Oh, no urgency, old boy. Just bleeding. Again."

Dolce

---

The little hum of the sewing machine ran low through the quaint shop. The mechanical whir of the needle puncturing over and over created a rhythm to the place, that it seemed even the settling dust in the windows light followed. The tiny machine was placed on a small block of wood, sitting and working with it was a to scale figure. Dolce the living doll worked on the dress recently delivered. It wasn't too much larger then she was, though still too big for her to wear. A young sprite had left here to be repaired, from what Dolce gathered, it had been ripped at the last gathering under the bridge. Something to do with a toad who needed to learn his place and a spilled drink. A small sigh left the working girl. She stopped the machine and looked up towards the door. What would only be a few steps away to most was a small walk to her, not to mention the large drop from the desktop to the ground. The building, was itself normal size, as it tailored to more then just the smaller Voldoans. Small tunnels, bridges and stairs were crafted across gaps, through walls of down slopes for those of a smaller persuasion to traverse the building. Run by a feisty fairy named Greia the shop specialized in helping creatures of nearly all sizes dress well. On the opposite face of the building a much larger room, with much larger features was present for those on the other end of the size scale.

Dolce had been taken in a few months back, and had been working there ever since. She lived in a small room in the back, nestled behind a bookshelf and some hefty novels. She didn't leave the building often, not without her friend at least. It could get dangerous in the streets for someone so...Well you probably get an idea. Today though seemed to be special, as Dolce stood from her seat and stretched her joints, some making audible creaks. She took up the dress and waked it over to the small hanger where it could be stored. She would finish it tomorrow...For now, she needed some company. Exiting through the scaled door next to the main entrance, she was outside. Sticking close to the walls and out fo the way, she walked. Mindlessly debating on who to entertain herself with.

November 18, 3:40pm
West Commons, perusing the streets

Tauro's massive form thuds along, smaller creatures scurrying out of the way. He pays them no mind, him gazing merrily at the buildings around him. Several beings wave to him, recognizing him as a friend and watcher. He waves back, shouting greetings to them. The people of Voldoa filled him with joy, as it was too long he roamed without a home and companions. The Ancient Minotaur stops on a bridge arching over a waterway, his eyes beholding the beauty of it. Several fluttering creatures zoom by his head, he gives a deep, hearty laugh at their antics. He smiles and continues on his way, his footsteps heard all throughout this part of the commons. He stops in front of a sewing shop, he gives a glance at it and crosses the street opposite of it. Green creature children are playing a game along the sidewalk. They stop at his approach, eyeing him fearfully. He gives a toothy smile and says "Hello, gamesome children, prithee continue with thy merriment. I will not bother thou." He nods and sits on the sidewalk, watching them play with a smile.

---

Thomas reeled back a bit as the airborn Voldoan flew right over his head, leaving him a bit confused and surrounded by some lost letters and packages. Thomas looked down at the scattered mess, then back up ahead to see the same Voldoan - a courier, he deduced - landing at the doorstep of a nearby residence. And even from this distance, he could see the courier scrounging through his satchel attempting to find a certain something. After a moment of pause, Thomas decided to gather up all the dropped parcels and bring them over to the Voldoan courier. He held the boxes in his hands with the letters stacked on top and headed in the courier's direction quickly.

Knox held back his hand from knocking on the door of the small abode he stood in front of. Was his bag lighter? Where was the smallish parcel for this location? He had ONE in his hands, but on his register it said that there was another for this address. Panic rising, Knox quickly rifled through his bag, in an attempt to find the package.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Did I drop parcels off too early once again? Oh dear, I must have left the bag open again."

Knox's antennae moved in a nervous flurry. He was fiiiiine! He would just retrace his steps and find the exact spot that he had dropped his deliveries, he would find it quickly from the air. At least he hoped. With one final search through the bag at his side, he prepared to let loose sigh of despair.

"Excuse me?" Thomas called out as he approached, "Sir?"

Knox whirled around to face the voice, antennae still moving at high speeds. His red compound eyes were wide and bulbous with terror as he turned and looked around. He spotted the young man approaching him and pointed to his own face. His wings fluttered slightly as he saw the man approaching with bundle of parcels in hand.

"Do you mean me, Sir?"

"Yes I, uh..." Thomas replied, holding out all the letters and packages he'd picked up, "I saw you drop these on your way overhead. Here."

Knox took the parcels and letters eagerly, depositing them in the bag gingerly before zipping it up once more. Maybe he just hadn't zipped it up? Oh well, hopefully that wouldn't happen again.

"Ahh yes, my deliveries! Thank you very much, friend!" Knox held out his now-free hand in greeting, "My name is Knox, of the Looking Glass Personal Delivery Service! And I thank you for your assistance in this day's deliveries."

"It's no problem. My name's..." He was a little distracted by Knox's eyes staring straight at him. He hadn't yet encountered a Voldoan like Knox until now. "Thomas..." He slowly snapped back to attention and extended his own hand, shaking the... moth-man's, he guessed the name.

"A pleasure to meet you, friend Thomas!" His tone, whilst chittering and slightly... insectoid in nature, was friendly at can be. Friendly enough to turn heads in the immediate area. The delay in the man's speech was almost palpable, but Knox took it in stride. "You are slightly puzzled, yes? Worry not, we Moth-people are as docile as they come, swear on my cocoon!"

Thomas nodded. "Pleasure to hear all that then." He responded, "I'm, I'm sorry for my hesitation, it's just that I only move up to Tier II rece-..."

He was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of a loud clang in the distance. The two (and several other passersby) turned their heads to see that a Flesh Golem had trudged its way out of a nearby alley, with a splintered leg ready to snap off its hinge. It let out a bellow before falling to the ground, with quite the audible thud accompanying the motion. Several folks crowded around it while the rest carried on, uninterested. Thomas paused for a moment before turning back to Knox and saying, "I, uh... I should see to that." He started walking in the fallen Flesh Golem's direction, turning back as he did and adding, "Pleasure meeting you!"

Knox wiped off a large compound eye to get a better look at what he had just seen. His chitters began to sound unsure and nervous once more. He gave a small wave to Thomas, eyes set firmly upon the Flesh Golem. "Yes, yes. You've a job to do. The pleasure is mutual, and I hope to..." The Flesh Golem groaned and thumped at the ground slightly. "I hope our paths cross again."

And with that, he turned to the already open door to hand his parcel over.

Thomas approached the fallen Flesh Golem, peering at its leg. The rod was bent and the joint was barely being held together by the meaty growths overlapping it. The Flesh Golem groaned once more, attempting to stand up, but failing, slumping back down. In that moment, Thomas was joined by another Tier II.

"Busted leg?"

"Yeah. The rod could probably be reshaped but that joint needs to be replaced."

"Good eye." The Engineer replied. He pointed over yonder, down the street. "There's a workshop right over there. I'll run over and get a joint and some other parts, just in case. You watch him." He pointed at the Flesh Golem, and Thomas nodded. The Engineer hurried away and left Thomas to stand by the Flesh Golem's head, crouching a bit. And for some odd reason, he began to comfort it.

"Uh... there, there..." He said, "We'll fix you up..."

---

---

Kantus emerged from the storage room at the sound of Baldwin's clamoring for medical assistance. He approached him, not even the slightest bit interested in hurrying - Baldwin was a frequent visitor - to help a fellow Hand. "Nighttime hysterics again?" He said aloud, in a plainly bored manner.

Baldwin shook his arm out of scratching at his poorly bandaged wounds. He had torn some deep scores out of his chiseled form, but he was made of tougher stuff than that. He could survive a few minutes of dilly and dally from his fellow Hand. "Sadly, yes. Nothing of the fun kind, either." He attempted to stand up straighter, and hold himself with a modicum of respectability, but only suceeded in wincing and groaning more.

"Must we always call it that, Kantus? The term seems so... falsely exciting."

"Hush." Kantus replied, turning his head and motioning towards one of the beds. "Lie down."

"Yes dear. Whatever you say, dear." Baldwin kept a strong face on, chuckling and groaning as he made his way over to the bed before lowering himself slowly. The mattress was as firm as always. The sheets light. "I'm considering reserving one of these beds. What do you think?" He said as he looked up, taking his eyeglasses into his hand with a smirk.

Kantus extended one of his arms out of his coat and unbuttoned Baldwin's vest, revealing the mess of bandages. Scratched open, almost to the point of splitting. Like he'd forgotten what they were for in the first place. Kantus plucked open the bandages with his nails, and then leaned forward. His neck began to elongate and narrow itself as his face dipped down to examine Baldwin's wounds more closely. Baldwin's expression, in the meantime, displayed no interest or lack of comfort. Again, this was frequent for him.

"One of these nights..." Kantus said, raising his head and turning towards a nearby drawer. "You'll claw your own heart out." He opened one of the drawers and began rifling through it.

Baldwin chuckled again, a slightly less pained sound now as he looked at his nails, picking at the blood beneath them with a scalpel. Where had he swiped that? He spoke softly, "Yes, indeed. Maybe it will be reparation for all the hearts I stole in my younger days."

Kantus turned back to his patient, swiping away the scalpel with his one free hand. For the other now held a bundle of thick, gray needles - several adorned with black strings, and one in red.

"Be still."

Kantus placed the scalpel aside and then set his hand on Baldwin's abdomen. With his other hand, he hovered a black-strung needle over the wounds, and then gently inserted it into one of the deepest scratches. He repeated the process several more times, working in order from the most severe wounds up. Baldwin's natural pain tolerance kept him from screaming like any human would. Once he had seven needles lodged in his chest, then came the red one.

"You seem chipper as usual today. I would think you were enjoying yourself."

Kantus didn't reply. He simply inserted the red-strung needle into the center-most location amidst the black ones. Seconds after it was placed within Baldwin's skin, the immediate area around it began to turn a very, very deep red. Like creeping vines, it spread outward, amassing around the points of the black needles. Once the growth had stopped, Kantus' coat rustled a bit as six more arms emerged. He gently placed all eight of his hands on the handles of the needles and steadily removed them, all at once. Once they were separated from the skin, the wounds quickly began to close. A moment passed, and all that was left was a bit of blood. Kantus tossed away the needles in a nearby metal bin, and then tossed Baldwin a rag from the drawers.

Baldwin snatched at the rag, swiping it out of the air and drawing it close to wipe his chest clean. "Wonderful work, as always." He tossed the rag, stained red with his vitae, onto a nearby pan full of instruments. Regard for contamination was not his to have. He stood once more and buttoned his shirt, smiling as he did. "I am thankful, Kantus. Your help is valued as always." He said in his usual jesting tone, fishing into his pocket to grab at a bundle of clip-restrained money. "How much must I owe you this time?"

Kantus picked up the rag that Baldwin had so nonchalantly tossed onto the tray of tools and tossed it in the bin as well. The tray, then, went into a bin of disinfecting liquid. Kantus turned his head back towards Baldwin and paused for a moment, eyeing him.

"Do you enjoy this game you play?"

Baldwin's smile dropped slightly as his eyes rose to the good doctor's own. One arm went to his chest and the other to a pocket. He looked to be feigning offense as he looked on, mouth slightly agape.

"Why, Kantus. Whatever could you mean, with your wounding words?"

Another pause, before the Lord of Owls responded, "No payment this time. You need only promise me a favor."

A quirk of the brow and a click of the tongue was all Baldwin gave before speaking seriously. "Of course, dear." He still dwelled upon the earlier question, but asked regardless. "Will this be an immediate favor, or is this an investment?"

"The latter. I will summon you when, and if, the need arises." Kantus replied, turning away and proceeding towards his desk. "Good day."

Baldwin was already at the door, hand turning the knob. He gave a slight bow of the head to his fellow Hand. "Then you've my assistance when the time comes. For now, I must avaunt. I'll see you at the next meeting. Ciao." And quickly out into the afternoon's chill as he donned his eyeglasses once more and stretched before setting off. He felt much more relieved.

Dolce

---

Dolce avoided footsteps as usual, making a brisk pace towards her lack of destination. She crossed paths with a coal black cat, Jasper she believed, and exchanged a few words. He was the familiar of a nearby witch and regular at the shop. It's quite hard to be a regular at a tailor, but that woman managed to burn her clothes quite often. Turning a few corners and making her way down a few alleys, she arrived behind a sorry sight. A stumbling and groaning flesh golem, bending awkwardly on one knee, it retreated from her and fell out to the street. Dolce had no particular stance on the things, though she did have some interest in them. What they were, how they worked. Making fast advancement to the figure, she stepped out of the alley and into the light of day once more. She arrived behind the struggling giant a smidgen after two others had. Engineers, it seemed.

Dolce didn't hold any particular stance on the engineers. Again curious of them if anything. She stood and watched as they exchanged simple words and one left the other alone. Taking even more steps closer to the man, she came within close proximity. "Will it be alright?" she asked, monotonously. Greetings were often wasted on her, they seemed a tad frivolous.

---

Lewis VonHauser

---

Lewis traversed the streets, humming to himself and not minding anyone he could bump into. He nearly skipped with the bounce he put into each step. His face had a small gentle smile plastered on it, and his eyelids hung a tad low, as if he was trying to keep awake. He was on his way to one of his favorite shops in the city. A small tailor for small beings. He didn't actually buy anything from them, in fact he was sort of a nuisance to the owner, he simply enjoyed entering and chatting for a while. His favorite toy lived there, and he wanted to play. His happy bouncing carried him closer and closer to his destination.

---

Cotton Aries, a man of business and formalities, rushed through the street, a coat jacket draped over one arm. His face was scrunched in a sort of sour scowl. He hurried around people, avoiding the touch of any bodies. Turning the corner to the one tailor he dealt with, he saw a large and familiar figure sitting nearby. Stopping his advancement he eyed the Minotaur up and down. He had hoped to see the man some time soon, he just didn't expect it to be now.

Making a much slower gate towards the ancient, Cotton debated his words. He didn't enjoy mincing them, though always found himself doing so with this person. Coming up next to the being, he stopped and swallowed back the knot in his throat. "...Good evening." He began slowly. His fingers tapped on his cloth over and over, Tauros was a sort of confident for him, though he still felt flustered spilling his guts.

---

This was by far the strangest thing Kaja had ever stolen. He didn't even know who the client was, the job was given to him by his father, head of there clan. The mark had a stall set up on the other side of the square, a small animal store, selling both pets and potential main courses. Not all were of flesh and blood though, many were clockwork, steam-driven, or otherwise manufactured in the various factories and workshops in the city. The item in question was at once marvelous yet still mundane compared to the other wares surrounding it.

"Alright i just have to keep him talking for three minutes" Kaja reminded himself. If done right this would be a clean and perfect job. He stood confidently forward casually observing the market stalls and pretended to grow interested in the animal pens. He approached the owner who appeared to be a molding vulture hunched over and staring. "Excuse me. But do you have a turkey in stock. I've had mad cravings for the bird and frankly i'm growing a little sick of ambrosia." The merchant said he had none but complimented his customer on his tastes. They rambled back and fourth on alternatives or where he might find one. About three minutes in Kaja shook the man's talons and said as if on cue "Well i might try the meat markets over in the East Commons, typically they just sell just rat and wild dog but i might get lucky."

At that moment a large rabbit came charging down the streets in a mad panic. The buzzard saw the creature and immediately charged after it. Whether it ended up in a little girls bedroom or a werewolf's stomach he would make a fine profit. After a breath once the owner was gone Kaja turned and casual as breathing undid the rope around a live tiger's neck and walked the groggy beast away as if he were walking a dog.

To a casual observer it would seem as if he were just finishing a business deal, one would need to be listening very carefully to realize otherwise. And so another job well done Kaja walked the tiger all the way to the Clans apartment in the East Commons.

---

"Will it be alright?"

Thomas turned and lowered his head at the sound of the voice. He looked down at the… at the doll that had just questioned the flesh golem’s future health. His eyes widened a bit, and his lips pursed in slight confusion. Yes, the moth-man was a sight, but… this was a manmade entity.

“Ahhh…” Thomas said, turning his gaze back towards the flesh golem. Oh, he was certain it would be back upright once the leg was fixed, but the whole doll thing was still strange to him. “Yes, he’ll… he’ll be back in working condition, once we repair his leg.” He took another gander at the overall damage, wondering just what caused it. From what he could see, it simply looked like the flesh golem had tripped and hit its leg against a hard surface. Fence or wall, maybe. Couldn’t have been deterioration, the parts all looked to be in good condition.

His mind wandered back from those thoughts as he redirected his head towards the doll. And, out of the blue, he inquired, “Who… I’m terribly sorry for asking but, who are you?”

November 18, 3:42 pm

West Commons


Tauro's massive head moved toward the voice, it being a familiar one. He sees Cotton Aries standing next to him, a crisp and rushed being that didn't take much time to appreciate the gift of life or this city. Tauro decided he will change that. Too many beings ran through their lives with hurry and ambition, often missing the little things. Cotton Aries would not be one of them. "God-den, Cotton Aries, how lovely 'tis to see thou again. Come and sit with me and enjoy the children playing and breathe in the crisp air of this wonderful city." He moves over slightly, grabbing his staff, which was as tall as Cotton, and moves it to his other side; making a space for Cotton.

---

November 18, 3:46 PM
West Commons

Grob was outside the front of his shop under a bridge at the west commons. It was nice for him. He could hear the surge of the market above him, and he didn't mind this at all. Anyone that needed to buy something from him knows where he is. His shop was more like a stall but there was what looked like piles of junk either side and it was rickety with nailed together wood and crudely drawn writing. Grob also put a small sign on the bridge pointing downwards to draw attention, see if anyone wanted to buy his wares. A loud clattering took his attention and he saw one of his four Gremlin servants dropping a bunch of stuff. "You idiot!" Grob shouted as he stormed torwards him. "You coulda blown this place sky high!" He complained. The gremlin started scraping all the dropped junk back into his arms. "Sorry boss! I'll put it down right away." He said, scurrying along. Grob simply wore brown trousers held by suspenders over his shoulders. He also had a pair of goggles on his head. "What do I pay ya for, ya git? Get goin'" Grob ordered.

November 18, 6:16 PM
Old Voldoa, Engineers' Observatory

---

Old Voldoa.

Large buildings, smoke and steam in the air, and Engineers walking about the place. The Announcement Tower over in the distance, silent at the moment. And standing before Martin, the Engineers' Observatory. Massive, round, pillars and all. Many stood on its steps, chatting idly. The only nonhuman being among them was Martin, and yet no one batted an eye. Martin looked up at the building, both impressed and intimidated. He had dawned his best clothes and used his best cologne in an attempt to look as presentable as possible. He took a deep breath and entered the building.

Before him, past the large double doors, a relatively empty foyer. Across the way, at the end of the marble flooring, there stood a long desk with a lone Tier II Engineer sitting behind its center. Martin approached, and the woman raised her head from the book she had been reading. "May I help you, sir?" She asked, not at all deterred by the fact that a Voldoan was standing before her, where as Old Voldoa was mainly a place for Engineers.

"I, hope I'm not late. There's not an expected time of arrival for these things is there?" Martin said. "I got a letter and-"

"Oh, you must be the newest Hand." The receptionist interrupted, marking her page and setting the book on the desk. "Do you have that letter with you now?"

"I-I think so." Martin said, pulling his coat open and patting down his body searching for the letter. As he did so, his expression grew in fear and he began to speak. "What would happen if I forgot it at my- never mind! I found it." he said, pulling the letter out of the opposite side's pocket and placing it on the table.

The Engineer picked up and opened the letter, examining for a brief moment before nodding and saying, "Alright, you can head up the stairs to your left around the atrium. Master Tarblatt's office is at the top."

"Should I knock or just walk in?"

"Knocking would be polite."

"Right, uh..." Martin said, kicking his foot out to the side in a very Jim Carrey like fashion. He stepped off, walking to the right and around the corner. A few seconds later he walked past the desk again. "Sorry uh, went the wrong way..." he said, walking to the left and up the stairs, and beginning his ascent up the long curve. As he climbed, he darted his eyes everywhere, noting the wooden walls and the marble columns segmenting them. Ahead of him above the steps, ornate plaques hung from the rounded ceiling. Each of them carried a message. In order, from the bottom to the top...



As he walked down the hallway and reached the door he was instructed to and he reached to knock but faltered for a moment. He was terrified, but he took a breath and tapped his knuckles on the wooden door. Knocking lightly.

_{"Yes, come in."}

The voice was muffled, but it still carried a sense of age and wisdom. Plus a bit of German accentuation.

Martin stepped into the room timidly. "Uh, Mr. Tarblatt, it's an... it's an honor.", Martin looked around the room. It was built in a form of half-circle, with Tarblatt's mahogany desk situated at the very back wall. The walls were painted green, and the windows were a somewhat opaque turquoise. The floor was, once again, white marble, with more columns to boot. Scattered around the walls were stands, glass cases, paintings and portraits, all of strange make and subject matter. Tarblatt himself was seated at his desk, with a large global shipping chart sprawled out over it, riddled in red lines and marks. The man raised one of his hands and beckoned Martin over.

"Thank you, Mister Iglesias. Come, sit, please."

Martin shuffled inside and slid into the open seat, only stubbing his toe on the corner of Tarblatt's desk once. He offered his hand to the man, being mindful of his large hand. "You know my name but... it's an honor to finally meet you in person." he said, repeating himself without realizing it.

"I feel meeting with all our potential Hands in person helps sway them into accepting the offer." Hugo replied, "Speaking of which... thought it over on your way any?"

"Sir I've always wanted to be a hand, but I didn't want to expect anything. It's been a yes since I read it."

"That's wonderful to hear." Hugo replied, turning his head a bit and opening one of his desk's drawers. As he rifled through it a bit, he asked, "You know who recommended you? Kantus, the clinic operator. He said your contributions to "blood treatment", as he put it, have been quite remarkable."

"I... had the feeling it was Kantus. I had no idea he was a Hand though."

"Really? Never noticed his badge?"

"He tends to... be fairly secretive. You know how he is. He'll keep your attention on exactly what part of him he wants your attention. I've tried to keep my eyes on his face since I began working for him, I get the idea he doesnt like people looking at his arms."

"Well regardless of how he feels towards others' staring, he's been quite the contributor to our efforts."

Hugo then lifted an ornate, wooden box from the drawer. _"Here..." He said, placing it on the desk beside the chart. He raised the lid, and from inside, he pulled a metal badge depicting a circle of interlocking, nonhuman arms. The Badge of Hands. He handed it to Martin with a wry smile on his face. "There you are."

Martin reached forward and took the badge, looking it over for moment, and then he placed it in his coat's inside pocket. "You have a... very nice staircase, I must say."

"The plaques." Hugo replied, leaning back in his leather chair. "Just a little something-something I wrote years ago. The Engineers in charge of the Observatory's construction humored me by hanging them up."

Martin nodded. "So... are there any rules I must abide by, with my new status?"

"To start out with, it's really just privileges. You'll be allowed to attend our weekly meetings when they happen. The locations rotate, you'll be sent a schedule. We mainly just talk about current and future developments, have a few drinks, and so on. Beyond that however, you'll be granted a bit of authority over residents, much like any Tier II possesses. If your select services are required for something, we will expect you to answer any summons we make. That's most everything... however... if you prove yourself both competent and trustworthy then, in time, you may reach an elevated status, even among the Hands. Kantus holds it. He is privy to... certain knowledge. You understand, yes?"

Martin nodded, but knew in cases like this simple acknowledgement didn't suffice in building respect or trust. "I understand." he reiterated.

Hugo nodded.

"All there is to it, then."

Dolce

---

Dolce listened to the man as he explained the state of the fallen golem. She took in every detail possible wit her glass eyes, noticing every slight bump or bruise in the fleshy substance that made up the giant overseer. She wished to touch it, to see how it worked, how it felt and how it might respond, though she felt as though that may be unwise. As she stopped searching the wounded sentinel, she changed her glance unto the man. As she did he seemed to return his to her. “Who… I’m terribly sorry for asking but, who are you?”

She blinked at him, pondering his interest, and with what manner would be best to respond in. Her glass eyes artificial and yet holding so much thought. "...Dolce." She said simply. She had no last name, nor no middle to add, just the simple name given to her by her first owner. "May I ask the same?" she tilted her head slightly to look closer into the man. Scanning his eyes for something new.

---

Lewis VonHauser

---

The young boy bobbed onward, skirting the edge of the market he eyed the colorful array of beings that strew past and around him. All shapes and sizes filled the streets, blurring together to make a delectable tapestry for the curious eye. Lewis had two curious eyes. He took in each new sound and sight with great interest, absorbing information by the second. What could they be doing? Why is she in a hurry? Who are they waiting for? Questions on each character flew into the boy mind. One struck him more then any other. Why is that man walking with a tiger? Not an unusual sight in Voldoa, perhaps, but the man carried a certain air about him. One that made Lewis a bit too curious for his own good. Without paying much mind, the glowing boy found himself in line with the striped beast. Throwing questions with his mind at the man ahead.

---

The bullish man responded to Cotton with gentle aplomb, greeting in return, and offering a seat on the dirty ground. Cotton looked from him to the aforementioned children, and squinted in mild confusion. Sighing, he took an awkward seat, making sure as little of his body was touching the floor as he could. His hands still holding his cloth hovered stiffly over the ground. He would never usually lower himself to this, though he knew how Tauro worked, and he would have found himself sitting next to him one way or another. "Well..." The horned man started, looking around coldly at possible flecks of dirt or bugs in the sky. "Crisp is, a word for it yes." Cotton knew he wouldn't be able to control the flow of conversation here. The calm giant next time was far too wise for that.

---

"Thomas... Thomas Marborough. I'm, uh... I'm an Engineer."

Not that it wasn't obvious. His coat, his badge, his human body. But he said it anyway.

Dolce remained a curiosity, which was sure saying something for a Voldoan, but the idle chat had to stop for now. The other Tier II had returned with a replacement joint, a bundle of rod segments, and a heavy satchel of tools all clinging to his person. "Should be enough..." He said, with a bit of a grunt, as he laid all the items down near the flesh golem. "Now... who actually gets to do the job?"

"I'll take care of it. Shouldn't be long."

"Well... alright then, thanks. Take care."

Thomas nodded, and the Engineer turned and wandered off. The young man assembled the parts and tools, kneeling before the flesh golem's leg. He turned his head back towards Dolce, seeing she was still watching intently. He shrugged, and turned back towards the leg.

First things first. The joint. He took a hefty cutting tool from the satchel and began severing the tendons overlapping the broken component.

---

Ka had a visitor. "Finally, it's been far too long since someone has had the pluck to seek me out." Ka informed his guest in his deep mocking voice. This time it was a young werewolve strong and fit perhaps this time...

Like the many others before him he had grabbed and light one of the torches set in the entrance to Ka's cave. Not that it helped, the pitiful thing barely lit a small circle of light and it certainly didn't come close to illuminating the room.

Ka begin his little game the same way he always had. As he talked to his 'brave young hero' he never stopped moving always circling keeping his head in total darkness so that it seemed as if each line came from some new impossible angel, keeping him unbalanced nervous. "Perfect" Ka thought.

"Listen well dark serpent! I've come seeking the power promised!" Barked the werewolve. "I guessed as much, most don't come for the scenery, or riveting conversation." Said Ka sinking around so that his condescending voice came behind the guest. Turning abruptly to find nothing but darkness, shouting now he continued "don't mock me creature I've earned this! I will have the respect I deserve!"

"Oh dear forgive me! Had a know I would receive such an esteemed visitor I would have tightened up, dusted a little! Tell me your Lordship what feats have you performed what makes you a cut above the hundreds of those seeking my power? Please go on tell me!" Never shouting never allowing anger in the voice only shifted to harsher sarcasm and always coming from a different direction.

"I... forgive my arrogance." Said the wolf bowing his head with a tinge of fear entering his voice. "I see! Not a brazen young fool unafraid of the power he seeks! willing to sacrifice anything for... for... What is it you want?" Ka prodded this time each sentence in a different ear.

"I... need strength... and skill, TO DESTROY ALL OF THE FILTH OF MAN!" Screamed the wolf confidence and rage returning. "My goodness how... boring. Revenge! It seems every one of you sad little souls who wind up on my porch all want to get back at, you parents murderer, he who slept with your wife, or something or other."

"They took our entire world nearly wiped all of my mind off the map!"Barked out the visitor. "They must pay!" "They must pay" mimicked Ka. "If I had a penny for everytime... regardless how do you know what humans do? I doubt a idiot like you is an engineer."

"I've been outside the city on my own! I have witnessed there destruction first-hand I WILL bring this destruction onto them!" Answered the guest. "Out in the big, bad, world all by yourself! Why what a big brave boy you must be!" Teased Ka.

"So you won't help me?" Whined the wolf."Oh don't be that way of course I'll help you and your stupid dream. It's what I'm here for right?" Reassured Ka voice now below the travelers feet. "Okay I'm ready" said the wolf.

"Are you sure?" Ka had stopped moving. He now stood still towering above the werewolve blood red eyes unblinking looking directly at him. "I will never withhold this sacred right to choose to alter yourself, to change your Destiny, to do things you were never meant to do! Yet know you shall never be the same once you cross this road. This is your only chance to leave."

Do It

Ka tightened his body around the wolf not crushing him but holding him tightly he struck out and bit him once,twice, three times in rapid succession the visitor screamed... and his heart stopped stone dead.

"I shouldn't be surprised. The bravest of them hardly ever can take the change." Ka slithered back into the corner dragging the body to be eaten latter. "He showed promise." Ka said sadly.

"Dammit! I forgot to ask his name!"

---

Through his buttoned shirt, Baldwin scratched at his chest autonomously as he walked. Stopping a habit itch was a thing of willpower, and whilst his will was strong in places, indulgence was not one of them. He looked down at himself as he wrenched his hand away. He looked rather scruffy at the moment, hardly befitting of a Hand. He could only sigh and push his eyeglasses up in an attempt to save face and look intellectual as he pushed through the crowds of fellow Nonhumans to peruse the stalls of the market. Maybe he could find some nicer clothing to replace these spattered rags.

Looking around at his fellow Nonhumans, it slightly disgusted him that he could hold a human shape so convincingly. around him all shapes and sizes bustled and frolicked, and here he stood, a facsimile of a human. He puzzled over Kantus' words to him, of his game and what he was doing. Truthfully, he didn't have an answer a short while ago just as he didn't now. Maybe a matter for another time.

He tore himself away from his musing to peruse a stall filled with various articles of clothing. His browsing was interrupted by the stall owner gasping and reaching out to him. The voice was slightly stuttered and had a chirpy tone to it.

"A-an honor it is, to have a Hand b-browsing my wares! Please, sir, b-buy whatever you wish! No stock is off-limits!"

Baldwin's eyebrow raised of its own accord as he looked up, smile curling into his cheek. The stall owner was a strange mix of avian and serpent, eyes like honey and a crest of colorful feathers atop its head. He tried hard, and with his practiced eye, he discerned the merchant was a female. He took the clawed, scaled hand with an air of grace.

"You truly are too lovely, ma'am. Do you treat all Hands with such kindness, or is it just I who receives the honor?"

The cockatrice woman, as he had also discerned, giggled as she hunched her shoulders and tottered from one foot to the other. Like putty. For his words and manner to manipulate.

Maybe the game did have a reason. Fun.

---

---

Knox's wing joints were beginning to ache from all the furious fluttering he had been doing, but it was well worth it as his day of deliveries drew to a close. Sure, he was far behind at this point, but delays were only a problem if the package never got there.

Right?

Knox took another gaze down at the instruction sheet he had been given. A crude drawing of two jagged outcrops of rock with an arrow pointing between them. The word 'HERE' was crudely scribbled over the arrow. Some of these directions from the customers were really obscure, he could see at least 13 different places that this could be referencing as he flew over, and that was just from the air!

He wiped at one of his compound eyes nervously, beginning to chitter to himself. If he didn't find this drop-off point quickly, who knows what the ramifications could be? Air whistled past his spiracles and over his carapace as he swooped low and came to a slow glide.

Ah.

Two large upheavals of stone identical to those on the instructions stood just below him as he reached into his bag for the parcel. It was squishy, felt as if someone were shipping wet paper. Compressible and yielding when he pressed his talon-like fingers into it gently. He shrugged as he bent his knees to land on the ground and place the package down. Hopefully whoever ordered it checked for it soon. Who knows what could be in there.

Oh well. Time to check in at the Delivery Service.

---

The sun shined brightly, even as it began to set, radiating a pleasant warmth over all of Voldoa. There was a light breeze, and scent of grass in the air. The few fluffy clouds in the sky lazily drifted over the orange horizon as children could be heard running and laughing. It was an excellent evening to be in the park, and so, it was an excellent day to be Marcel.

Marcel wiped some of the sweat from his forehead with his fleshy hand. His nails dangled awkwardly over his eyes as he did so. They were longer than his fingers, and when pressed together, had the same shape and length as a pair of trowels. He stood in the Galloway Gardens Park, where he made his living. Marcel was a gardener by trade, and by instinct -- To him, gardening was mostly just an advanced form of digging, and to dig was to live.

He plopped onto the ground, letting his overalls cushion his landing onto the soft green grass. His overalls were all he wore, along with his workboots. It made working in the sun much easier, at the cost of exposing his bare chest. Marcel didn't mind in the least. After all, there were all sorts of strange things in Voldoa, and most were much stranger than the six nipples of shirtless molepeople. He observed his day's work, bruxing in relaxation as he did so. There were long rows of freshly turned soil, where he was planting flowerbeds. He had dug six semicircles, three on either side of a large fountain. In a month or so, the wildflowers, daffodils, and daisies he had planted would appear. After his moment of relaxation, he stood up with a grunt, and turned around, making his way to one of the park's openings. He had no tools to collect. Other than the seeds he had planted, all he had ever used were his nails.

Marcel walked down the cobblestone road, brushing the dirt from his hands onto his overalls. Today was the first day of his workweek, and so, he still had nearly all of last week's payment. He turned a corner, walking through a crowd of small children -- some had fur, some had fangs, but all were happy to see him.

"Bonjour, little ones. No flowers today, désolé, désolé." He patted a few of them on the hair, but did not stop. He didn't mind the children, but he had been working for hours, and worked up a thirst. He turned once more, but this time, into a tavern. The Pale Horse. He entered the tavern, blinking for a moment to adjust to the slightly dimmer, warmer lights than the outside world. He stood by a barstool, reaching into the small bag of coins he kept in the pocket of his overalls.

"One Augustiner, please." He slid a few coins across the bar, before procuring a few more. "And two eggs with bread. Merci." He nodded to the barkeep, who would soon bring his order to the cook. He turned and looked around for a moment, trying to find a table with one chair. It was a bit crowded for this time of day, leaving only one table with two chairs. He shrugged, and sat down.

---

The first wheel was about to start turning.

After locking up the clinic for the time, Kantus had left to tend to his latest matters. A short walk after, he had descended the stairs by a waterway, taking care as to not draw any unwanted attention towards himself.

He turned, and before him stood his destination. A ruddy but volatile little shop, and the gremlins running it. Kantus approached, and the gremlin at the desk, Grob as the sign overhead indicated, looked up at him.

"Greetings!" He said, "Interested in buying some wares of mine? Or perhaps ya looking for something I got 'round back? What do ya want? I probably got it mate."

No immediate response came from the Lord of Owls. Instead, he merely presented a tied roll of bills and set it on the counter. The gremlin's hairless brow rose as Kantus spoke quietly.

"Your service."

"My service?" Grob replied, a scowl replacing his look of curiosity. "I ain't no mercenary. You're looking at the wrong gremlin, me lord." He said, with mocking emphasis on the last two words, peering at Kantus' many layers of regal attire.

He did not reply. He simply produced several more rolls of bills, with several more arms.

Grob slowly began to smile. He nodded and looked back up at Kantus. "A'ight. You got my attention. What do you want?" He said, walking out from behind the counter and looking up to the being in front of him.

Kantus wasted no time on obscurity.

"In four hours, at exactly11:32 PM, you and your cohorts must set off any sort of... explosive display, in plain view of the Engineers' watchtower between Overlook and Arboretum. Nothing lethal, only loud and bright. You will keep their attention for as long as you can and play the incident off as some form of inventory malfunction."

Grob nodded. "Precise..." He said, resting his chin on his fingers, "But okay, deal! The money, now, though."

Kantus set the rest of the bills on the counter. As Grob returned to his original position, the Lord of Owls issued him a warning.

"Know this." He said, craning his neck forward a bit. "Should you underperform or neglect your service, or speak of this to any soul..."

He pulled aside the collar of his coat, revealing the Badge of Hands resting underneath.

"There will be consequences."

Grob's face returned to a bit of a scowl as he looked at the badge. Grob took the money greedily. "All right." He said lowly, "A merchant like me can keep his word."

"Good. Be ready."

Kantus turned and left the vicinity of the shop while Grob began counting the bills. The first half of the preparations was done. Now, however, he had to wait for the latter half.

He ascended the stairs and made his way back to his clinic.

November 17 11:47 A.M.
West Commons-Arboretum

Morgan let out a contented sigh as the wind rushed around him, expertly navigating his old companion through the sea of night life still active in Valdoa centuries of riding taking over and guiding him with the flow of the streets as he let his mind drift, a small frown as marring his visage as his arm lifted suddenly, jerking his gaze in a dizzying spin before once more he was steadied once more as he readjustment his grip, not wanting to drop himself again. It had been a good two days after that before he'd been reunited, although that was more because an extraordinarily simple goblin had located him first and believed him an enchanted head to tell fortunes and such.

Morgan shuddered at the thought, remembering the smells he'd been introduced to. He was brought out of his memories to a place that ushered more distant one. He had once again found himself in the Arboretum, the illusion of true wilds having once more drawn him away from his self created home. Lost in memories of glories long past, here he saw a baying pack of black hounds, the eyes red and alight in the night. In the distance he could hear the haunting tones of the hunting horn, sounding off as they found sport once more. All were upstaged, however, by the shadow of he who led the hunt, a beast of a man, standing heads above any mounted creature in the pack, a wicked grin adorning his face, almost as sharp and deadly as the antlers which rose from his head, far more telling than any masterly crafted crown could signal. The man raised his hand to signal the hunt was on.

Then, like dew in the morning, the vision evaporated, that Wyld Hunt returning to the memories from whence it sprang. Morgan sighed as he stared upon the night sky, imagining once more that he could hear the horn signaling in the distance. He feared this life was domestication him, as such thoughts always came with the date of the hunt drawing near. Ah well, he had guests awaiting him back at the tavern, and though he respected...most of his staff, he feared some of them were lacking in the social arts. Still these rides helped fill a yearning for days gone past. Unsure of how long it had lain there, Morgan lifted his head off the saddle, placing it atop his shoulders for the time being. Gently patting his old friend on the neck, he turned the pitch steed back to the West Commons, a smile coming to his face as he heard some poor beast running through the forest, the thundering footfall of some predator signalling it soon demise.

________________________________________________

November 18 5:36 P.M.
Market

Morgan sighed as he finished dealing with he merchant, having finished placing an order with a merchant to resupply the meat reserves for his slice of the West Commons, many similar orders having taken up the day as he had returned to find much of his stores depleted last night as some upstart Lycan had been boasting of taken the "Test of the Serpent," or whatever it was they called that inane attempt for easy power. He had paid little attention to the whelp as he howled and recounted his tales of fury, not bothering to learn his name while gladly taking his coin. If the pup was anyone worth knowing, he'd hear of him after his meeting with the snake.

Morgan chuckled at the thought, very much doubting he'd see the youth, an aura of death had hung around the pup and he doubted he'd outwit or overpower fate. Ah well, so is life, or rather the lack there if. He had almost all his supplies ordered, with one last order of buisness before reveling in the festivities of the night, and that could be concluded at his home away from home.