---

As the door creaked open and stopped short of allowing him to see... anything of the person he was delivering to, Knox's mandibles fell slightly. The shy ones always made deliveries more difficult, with their refusal to sign for the package or open the door fully to allow space for it to move through. This one was a special delivery, and required no signature, thankfully. Oh well, what could he do, after all? As long as the job was done!

"Uh, yes... I've a delivery here for one," He turns the package about to look at its recipient before turning it back and looking into the dark of the doorway, red eyes sweeping over the slightly cracked door slowly as his mandibles parted once more to allow him speech, "One Priscilla Aggreivo? I-is Ms. Aggreivo in at the moment?"

The package was larger than the standard stuffed envelope he usually delivered, and heavy enough to serve as a paperweight, his arms were straining from carrying it all this way. Around his shoulders, his wing-skin cloak flapped and fluttered in the light breeze, looking more like burlap than the colorful, patterned mosaic from earlier in the day. He hoped that she would take the delivery in soon, he was tired and the ominous house and reclusive recipient were beginning to make him feel uneasy.

---

The frigid air bit deep into the pair as they trudged through the sleet and snow. Baldwin's steps dug in deep and made the journey a struggle as he plowed his way through the snow. With his coat wrapped around his body tight, he still shivered slightly and felt his teeth chatter against his skull. He was resilient to a great many things, but cold was one thing he never got used to, even in his heyday of nudity and frivolous behaviour. Kantus' trek was noticably less laborous, his bird-like feet with their splayed toes allowing him to tread lighter on the snow and sink in less.

Baldwin's voice wavered as he spoke, "Kantus, if you don't mind my asking, why is it you needed me and didn't just ask one of the Tier Ones? I'm sure they can be persuaded to keep their traps shut, with the right motivation." His smile was a jagged one.

"They are not as easily molded as you may think." Kantus replied, "I cannot have them knowing of my involvement in the coming events, which if proceed as anticipated, you will play a part in as well."

Baldwin leapt from the snow to a rock sticking out of the earth, perching like a gargoyle with a great fashion sense. He sniffed at the air and sighed. "I can't smell a blasted thing with this wind." He said with a growl, "And you seem to underestimate my thoughts on the humans. I know there are more ways into the mind than through the loins."

"There is more to it than just the Engineers, Baldwin. You've not seen what lies in the Undercity."

"Excuse me if I am loathe to see another cramped, wet cavern as long as I live." Baldwin's eyes sweep across the landscape as he pounces down and hits a tree, stopping himself. "Aside from, well, need I even say it at this point?" He said with a chuckle.

Kantus stopped and turned towards Baldwin, his unblinking eyes piercing through the night air, craning his neck forward. "Baldwin, I want you to stop your joking and focus. You are one of the few living beings on this earth that I am willing to trust with these matters. I do not wish to be disappointed."

Baldwin stopped, smile falling into a severe, thin line. He looked down at the snow before looking up again, stonefaced and serious. "My apologies. Are we getting close to our intended destination? I smell a scent of warmth on the air."

"Tell me when you smell smoke and alcohol." Kantus replied, turning to continue his walk. "Then we will be close."

Baldwin sniffed at the air again for a time, speaking with little tone in his voice. "I smell smoke. The alcohol is not present. Maybe they are being smart?" With a rough brush of his coat, he follows on.

"I can only hope for such."

---

"I said no!" Parish called out to his subordinate, "I don't care how late or early it gets! We're stayin’ here ‘til mornin’, then we’re scoutin’ the mountain, and if nothin’ happens, then we'll leave!"

The unkempt man was dressed in an assortment of leather wear, with a ragged coat and several belts, all underneath a mangled red mantle. He wore a wide-brim cap, with a striking red feather pointing upward from the side. One of his hands held a bottle of whiskey, and the other held a rifle.

"What are we even waiting for?" The large, dark man in the fur coat retorted.

"I 'ave it on very good sources that people's been disappearin' 'round this mountain!" Parish replied, "What's more, Maude herself told me to take a looksee! So we're all here, and we're gonna wait and see if anythin' comes down! And if we hear so much as a squeak, we are marching up that mountain, ALL of us!"

"And what are you thinking even’s up this mountain?"

"Oh, bugger if I know!" Parish replied, sipping his whiskey. "But whatever it turns out to be, we got them noice gifts from the Silvers to help put 'em down for good." He pointed over to the campsite's rather large stockpile of weaponry, all of finer make than the blunderbusses and pistols they were formerly accustomed to. Indeed, the Silver Battalion had sold them some quality firearms.

"Now stop ya bitchin' an' get back to watchin'!"

---

---

The two crouched atop a ledge, looking down at the barrels of fire dotting the rather large campsite down below. From this distance, they could see damn well every aspect of the party's offensive force. Dozens of men, all standing around, admiring their guns, chatting, watching the perimeter. Kantus craned his neck outward to get the best view he could. He retracted it, and pointed an arm forward.

"That one. In the feathered cap. Do you see him?"

"What of him?" Baldwin said, spite creeping into his tone.

"He is their leader and my target. He is not to be harmed. The rest, however, must not survive."

Baldwin tilted his head to gaze at Kantus. His expression was grim. The dark circles beneath his eyes accentuated by the firelight below. "And you need me to... get my hands dirty. Yes?"

"Not here." Kantus replied, "You must begin ascending the mountain towards Voldoa. I will draw their attention and lure them behind you. When they are at the wall, I will abduct the leader, and you will slaughter the rest. Absolutely none of them must survive, or the hunter factions will gain knowledge of Voldoa, and all hell will transpire."

With a slow movement, Baldwin slicked his hair down. He gave out a long sigh as he stood from his crouching stance. "Best that we do not dally, then. Dead men tell no tales." He looked back shortly to Kantus, a ghost of a smile on his face. "And how can hell transpire if we fill it?"

Kantus stood and looked straight at Baldwin. "I am working to ensure that such will be the future case." As Baldwin nodded and turned, Kantus laid a hand on his shoulder. He retracted his neck some and said, "I assure you that you will be rewarded for this. Not by me, but the Engineers. Defending Voldoa from a Fifty-Eighter attack will warrant a higher status, akin to my own. And that will be coming into play later, should you be willing."

Baldwin brushed some frost off the end of his nose, sniffling slightly. "Should the Engineers, or even worse, Hugo, catch wind of this collusion... Can you-... I don't want to imagine the ramifications."

"Not a soul will hear of this, Baldwin."

"I know you well enough to know that you've thought this through. Thorougly, if my instincts tell me anything. I will trust in you."

"And I you." Kantus replied, "Now go."

"Be safe," With that he turned, bending his legs before turning back, "And, the first mark of faith I see, I am tearing off and devouring." Not waiting for an answer, Baldwin bounded off up the mountain, back to the walls of Voldoa.

Kantus turned back to the camp. He waited a short while after Baldwin departed to give the Bergkonge ample time to prepare for the attack. This would be the largest group to ever besiege Voldoa thus far, out of the very few attacks they’d suffered in the past. But all they had to be was thorough, leaving absolutely no one to run away, and things would work out well in the end.

Kantus raised his neck, and the feathers below his beak began to split apart, revealing a gaping maw of jagged teeth. He let out a nightmarish shriek, one that would bring the Fifty-Eighters running up the mountain.

He unfurled his wings and began his ascent.

---

How long had she wandered before finding this place? Too long it felt. Truthfully it had only been three years, the tiniest fraction of her lifetime. But they were the most lonely years she'd ever gone through. Vengeance did not fill the hole left by her family's death. She had moved on from that, there was nothing left to do but accept that they were gone. Since coming to Voldoa a couple months ago she'd yet to find her place in society. Hunting was still a habitual occurrence despite having food provided by the Engineers. It was not to her taste anyway. The humans down the mountain may have been alerted to something hidden above by one of her ventures outside the city.

Her taste for fighting had waned despite her more than capable experience. Defending the city could be a good occupation for her. But as of yet there was no attachment to the place. It had not set in that this was not just another stop on the journey, but a haven that should be considered home. The quiet yet sleepless night was broken by the unnatural screech of the owl creature. The dragons keen senses had picked up from where it had come. Emerging from her den she soared around the mountain to get a view from out of sight. Light and movement were below as she lighted on a boulder. They were pray for the fowl, easily outmatched by the silent movement through the air and superior vision in the darkness.

Koarin felt little need to get involved. Surely those who were on the job already would dispense of them shortly. To get involved would put her in a position she would rather avoid. Yes she hated humans, but her prior hunting of them made her no better than they. Such a realization served to pacify the woman. Only in defense would she find herself in conflict were she the choice. And from this distance there was no reason to believe that she was in any danger. With a rather bored expression she curled up against a rock face and watched events unfold.

---

November 19, 12:37 AM
Between Overlook and Arboretum

"Exactly what happened?" The Tier II asked.

Shit. Grob did not expect this. "Oh uhhh, hey there." Grob said as he whipped around to the new voice. "Well sir, my business makes fireworks and displays for the public ya see." He lied. "We wanted to... test... our... new line of fireworks." He explained, hoping the engineer would buy it‏.

"And you didn't think to test them in an outside clearing rather than a residential area?"

"This is a residential area?" Grob said in fake shock. "Looked like this place was abandoned. Bit of a shithole if ya ask me, but then again, isn't Voldoa?"

The Engineer crossed his arms, looking a bit... insulted. "That's very blunt of you, isn't it?"

"Look here mate, no harm done, no one 'urt. We'll clear this up and be on our way. Sound good?" Grob said, trying to get rid of the Engineer as quick as possible‏.

There was a bit of a pause as the Engineer looked around. Grob was right after all. No one in the immediate vicinity looked hurt in the slightest. Still, though...‏

"I'm going to file a report on this and make sure Tarblatt sees it." He said, "You just... make sure it doesn't happen again."

Grob flicked his finger in a cross on his chest. "Cross me heart mate." He said with a typical gremlin grin.

---

“C’mon! C’mon, keep it movin'!”

The whole of the party hurried up the mountainside, guns raised and lanterns lighting the way. The Fifty-Eighters were definitely not the most commonly well prepared of the three hunter factions, but among all of them loomed this sense of natural camaraderie. The will and want to track and destroy man’s common enemy, enjoying themselves in the process, making up the vast majority of the everyman in Europe, serving as beacons of a righteous, humanitarian existence.

“I said MOVE yer SHIT!”

Dane Parish was not a good example of this.

The party trudged over one last snowy hurdle, and Parish himself was the first to behold the sight ahead. A pause, and then he promptly announced, “What… the jammy fuck…” The leader and his men scanned the whole of Voldoa, assaulted with the notion that there was a city atop a mountain. Parish’s adjutant raised his rifle and scanned the interior of the city. “There’s…” He said, “There’s monsters in there… lots of them…”

“Un-fuckin’-real…” Parish replied, stepping forward. The adjutant continued, “Dane, I think we should be smart about this. We don’t know how many are in there, we should have some of the men scout the place while the rest of us report to Maude.”

“Yeah…” Dane replied, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds pre-”

He was interrupted by the nearby watchtower ringing its bells, with the many others dotting the city quickly copying the action. The alarms had been set off.

“SCRATCH THAT START SHOOTIN’.”

The men began to yell, raising their guns and running towards the city wall. Parish and his adjutant waved over a group of men hauling a load of explosives, sending them down to put them to good use. The adjutant followed them, but Dane stayed behind. As the last of his men passed him, he raised his rifle and propped up the magnifying lens, taking a look at the watchtower. Just think… a whole city of monsters…

His vision was quickly obscured by a figure rising up in front of him. Dane lowered his rifle and looked up at the tall, avian figure with the horrifying eyes.

None of his men heard his muffled panicking as he was taken away by the Lord of Owls.

---

---

Protocol 12: All nearby Tier IIs and Flesh Golems must gravitate towards the hostile area and defend the city.
Protocol 13: A dispatch unit of Tier IIIs from the Undercity will surround the attacking party and cover all conceivable routes of retreat.

No survivors must be left throughout the conduction of either protocol.

---

The group of humans advanced up the mountain and made it up to the peak where they could see the city. Still up against the rocks she blended in well while not using her flames. Much closer now she could see the weapons they were carrying. What caught her attention most was the explosives. Such human inventions were used during the battle that took her family. Raising her head the smell of gunpowder was strong and brought back crushing memories.

In a brief moment of clarity since arriving in Voldoa she realized that others likely had families in the city. Here she was selfishly sulking over her loss when lives were in danger. She supposed she had hoped that she didn't need to do anything, letting others take care of it. But if anyone got hurt, especially any children, she wouldn't be able to live with herself. From personal experience the explosives were quite destructive and should be dealt with while further from people. Most of them had passed her without notice. So she had the element of surprise for a little while. Dragon people are not particularly well known for their stealth most of the time.

Raising herself up her eyes lit like candles as she took flight. Koarin was not as silent in the air as the owl man but by the time they would turn she would already be up in the dark sky. Swooping down she landed between two of the men carrying explosives. Reaching out with an arm she grabbed one by the throat while her tail whipped around the neck of another. While she could potentially ignite them the resulting blast could rain rocks down on the city or cause some kind of slide. It was also quite loud and they didn't need any more attention than they already had. Being larger than your average human when she spun around the two bodies lifted and were flung off the mountain without much effort. If they managed to survive they wouldn't be escaping anytime soon.

Well now she had their attention. Rather than just stand there waiting to be shot to death there was a quick inhale. Her stomach and chest took on an orange glow before breathing fire at her feet. Engulfed in a fireball she used the cover to slip away. Too many had made the mistake of charging in after being spotted and it cost them dearly. Koarin did not intend to make the same mistake.

---

West Commons - The Pale Horse
8:15 PM.

---

It had taken Martin a little bit to recover from the magical stupor the the Succubi had placed upon him. And, with his luck, as soon as he got over it she returned, refiling his drink. One of her bat like wings wrapped around his shoulder and she slid into the stool next to him. His eyes turned to watch her. He wasn't feeling entranced for once, and he knew that she could tell. Her body language was less flirty and more serious. Her face had a fierce smirk to it rather than an inviting smile. He took off his hat and lifted it a few inches above his scalp before placing it back down. He smiled and so did she.

"Sorry about that earlier, it's part of the job. I'm on break now." Nessa explained, dropping her wing from his shoulder and folding it against her back again. "So, what's new?" She questioned, crossing her legs and leaning against the bar. Martin hummed and reached into his coat, pulling out his new badge. "I was made a Hand today!" he just about exclaimed. Nessa looked at the badge, then to him and then to the badge again and squealed, grabbing Martin in a hug. "Congratulations hun!" she said. Nessa had, for a long time, wanted to become a Hand. Martin had shared the same opinion on the matter but was quieter about it. He felt he was less deserving of it gratification.

The night after was a blur. Nessa eventually got Martin as buzzed as she could and when she got off work helped him home. It wasn't until she got him in bed did she feel a pang. Demons always felt it when something bad was about to happen.

---

Nessa slept on the couch to make sure Martin was alright, as she didn't trust him alone after she felt whatever IT was. She was right however, as soon as he stumbled into the living room, the announcement ran out. Their eyes met.

They both knew Martin wouldn't fight. But he sure as hell could care for the wounded. Even more so with her help.

---

Baldwin's eyes seemed to widen as the greyish-pink meat was lain before him. Saliva rose into his mouth as the scent of it hit him. Like a goblin eying gold, his stare was fixed on it as he bypassed the provided utensils and flexed the fingers on his right hand. Then they bent backwards, snapping with a series of sickening cracks as they became bony and slender. Claws made for tearing dug into the meat and brought a rather large chunk to his lips. Young, fit, healthy. You could always confirm the stock by the taste and texture.

Baldwin's head swiveled back to his caterer, he downed the shot without so much as a grimace before returning to the meal. "You and your fellows truly are a wonder, Morgan. A fine quality cut and a finer quality drink, with some kick from both to match. You all have my gratitude, once again." Baldwin's lips curled into a smile, his now-triangular teeth gleaming in the light as he spoke.

He watched Morgan as he spoke. That name. Lord of the Mountain. Even the name was a relic from ages past, to match Baldwin himself. He sighed as he ate, picking away at the meal with his talons like vultures at carrion. He managed to muster up a chuckle as he downed another shot of burning liquid. At least it was a good burn. "Mhmm. All rumors have their origins in fact. At some point." He furrowed his brow as he tore a chunk away from the meat with his teeth. Another killer smile. "But please, don't start with the honorifics and pleasantries, however archaic. I'd rather relaxed conversation and good companionship than 'milord's and fearful respect."

Another shot. He was really putting it away tonight.

"I received more than enough of that years ago."

---

November 18, 8:55 PM
West Commons, the Pale Horse

---

On cool, clear autumn nights, Doctor Coltrane would leave his carriage at home and would walk around the city, talking to the citizens and seeing the sick. In a past life, before he had become an Engineer, Coltrane had been a doctor, and still there were days when he couldn't resist the urge to visit those who needed help. Having a Hand who was a sentient fungus was incredibly helpful in such endeavors. On the side of his more...pressing research, Coltrane had been working some with Marcello's spores, which in some cases seemed to have some sort of anti-pathogenic effects.

"Are you hungry at all, my lord?" Marcello asked "Because I am growing quite famished." Coltrane looked around and saw a nearby tavern, the Pale Horse.

"As am I, my friend," Coltrane said "Let's stop for dinner."

He commanded the Lesser Flesh Golem which followed him around the city to sit down at the side of the building. He walked in, Marcello at his heels. Upon walking inside, he was greeted by the sound of conversations and the smell of beer and cooking meat. He scanned the room, looking for anyone familiar. His eyes fell upon Thomas, the new Class II. he nodded to Marcello, and the two walked over to Thomas' table.

"Ah, hello Thomas!" Coltrane said "Mind if Marcello and I join you?"

---

"Uh..." Thomas replied, turning his head to Marcel. The mole-man raised a hand and said, "Non, non, is fine. I will excuse myself. Au revoir." He stood from the table and departed, leaving Coltrane and his fungal cohort to take his place.

"Yes, uh... hello again, Doctor Coltrane."

Thomas had only met Coltrane a scant few times before now. Over the most recent years, his father had forged something of a partnership with the man, often bringing him personally requested supplies and the like from the outside world. Every time Collin came back to visit Voldoa, one of his few stops would be the Doctor's combination workshop and residence. He had a feeling he knew what they conversed over, but... it wasn't a comfortable topic for him. Or any Engineer, really.

"What brings you here?" He said, somewhat expecting to have the same asked of him.

________________________________________________
November 18, 8:55 P.M.
West Commons, The Pale Horse

Morgan smirked as he thoughtlessly waved a hand at Baldwin's rebukes towards old names, " Of course Baldwin, I hardly mean to dredge up old tales and stories," he replied, refilling his own glass after Baldwin had set it back down, watching the man eat, obviously enjoying the meal. Something about the man tickled at the back of his mind, like a riddle half remembered, the answer just out of reach.

"After all, we are now citizens of the fair city Voldoa, whose walls protect us and hosts see to all our needs, no longer must we stay sharp for fear of being hunted, nor isolate a meal as the hunter" he continued in what sounded like rehearsed lines , "I'd like to think of myself as a testament to such, after all, I've got a business with customers and everything, just like any well respected man," he said, a thin trail of smoke escaping as he spoke, whipping around in the air like an animal in a trap, "Hell, I'd even go so far as to say we're positively civilized," he said with a sigh, a dark chuckle following after.

Morgan paused, tilting his ear as he thought he heard a baying out in the street. It was probably just some stray dog or perhaps a werewolf, but the sound brought him back to the days where he had ran with the faes of the hunt, the few instances he'd indulge more base insincts. His eyes widened as the memories made him realize what had seemed off about his friend.

Morgan shivered at the memory before his normal calm demeanor returned in a flash, the moment gone quickly. He watched the fellow eating carefully, soaking in the familiar feeling. He'd never be able to explain it to someone who'd never experienced it before. It was that feeling of a power in the air after lightning struck the ground, fast and certain in its arrival. With it came feelings of both immense anger and a tranquil acceptance of peace. It was inevitable and it would not negotiate. Death was a part of Baldwin's near future, and a fair amount at that. With a large grin appearing and tendrils of smoke that writhed and grasped for an unseen target seeped from his collar, Morgan finished his drink and poured himself another glass, topping off the ancient lizard. " But enough of such talk, perhaps you are right, mayhaps it's the future we should set our sights," he said, a laugh escaping his lips. "After all, who knows what could come next."

________________________________________________
November 18, 1:20 A.M.
Market->Arboretum->Overlook

The roads were wind and fury as Morgan sped through them, a mad cackle that had chilled man's blood for centuries issued from his throat as he whipped down streets and through alleyways. Gone were the suits and baubles, all finery of men replaced with the vestiges he had been born with, metal armor of a faded grayish purple tint covering his form, ancient druidic runes carved along them glowing faintly. The night was alight with both the light of a waning moon and the dull blue coming from the iridescently glowing mane of his steed, the creature now resembling less a horse and seeming like some reptilian ancestor, large dark scales covering its skin, save for the head, which was little more than bone and tendons, a sharp whiny escaping the beasts throat now and again, the staccato of hooves on road a war drum to Morgan's ears. It had been much too long for the two of them, hidden behind these walls. While he enjoyed the slice of life he had gained for himself, this is what he had been made for.

He knew he had been following Baldwin's trail, the constant call of death death in his ears had been with him even after the old lizard had left, and mere hours into the night he had handed over control of the tavern to Jacque. The cats knew what he needed tonight, and he was sure they'd come through for him, but little entered his mind now save for the hunt. The air was growing thick with electricity as he entered the Arboretum, passing by trees, wildlife, and dryads with nary a look. He felt two lives coming to an end on the mountain. One of the men was lucky, a blow to the neck on a boulder killing him instantly. The second was not so lucky, as Morgan felt the slow ebb of life drain, he could tell the man had landed on some sort branch, the limb having pierced through his lung, the organ filling with blood every time he breathed.

Morgan looked to where the lights of life were fading away, seeing the mountain peaks in the distance, his destination made clear by the bright flare,as something set ablaze, men on one side of the inferno, a strange winged being on the other. Morgan urged his steed towards the flames, dropping the reins as he grabbed his head from atop his shoulders. His other hand plunged into the gaping hole left, the tendrils of smoke seeming to caress his hand as it entered, searching for a relic of days gone by.

---

With each bound and pounce, Baldwin's snow-dusted form zipped up the slope of the mountain until the wall was within sight. The towers and area around the walls was alive with activity, and judging from the scents of sweat and musk, those both within the walls and those behind him were experiencing various degrees of apprehension and fear. Rather than run up to the wall to be found out and most likely shot down in the dark of the morning, Baldwin darted to the side, careening around a tree as he dug his fingers into it and sling-shotted himself into a thicket of dense bush, close to the base of the watchtower. The Flesh Golems were already beginning to mount the parapets and fall to the snowy ground at the walls base, and the Engineers atop the watchtowers were already loading up their weaponry in preparation for the siege.

"Alright. Have to be smart about the entrance, in conversation as in combat, the entrance is everything." Baldwin whispered to himself as he waited for his opportunity to make a move.

A Flesh Golem fell to the ground and rolled for a distance before sprawling to get up, making quite the ruckus. There was his window, and to put it to use was almost an autonomous movement. In one fluid movement, he had leapt at the wall, shot up its height in a great heave and skittered to the parapet of the watchtower in the dark, making it look as if he had only just crawled to mount the tower from within the city.

Unsuspected and undetected.

He nudged a nearby Engineer and almost chuckled as she jumped and fumbled her weapon, but he managed to keep a cool expression, glassy white eyes piercing the morning gloom as he spoke to her side-on. "What is the current situation, ma'am?"

"A-a-announcement said th' was a groupuh Fifty-Eighters headed up the way, and t' gear up," He could almost feel her eyes dart over his Hand badge as he took off his coat and hung it on a nearby weapon rack. "Dunno much beyon' that, m-mist- uh- S-sir!"

He smiled back at her and nodded. "Do try not shoot me whilst I help out there, it isn't the most pleasant of sensations." He said as he placed a foot on the parapet, the Engineer taking a moment before trying to stutter out, "N-not at all, Sir! I'll tell the lads yer headed ou-" He had already thrown himself from the tower and landed in the snow once more. The horde of Fifty-Eighters was already beginning to come over the rise as he reached up for his scalp, both hands seizing a fistful of hair each.

There was a great upheaval of steam as he tore his human shell away by the head, crawling out like a butterfly from its split cocoon, streaked with gore and effluvia running from curves of bone and exposed muscle. Skin spun over the new form like spiders spinning web, pulled taut and sticking to the skeletal structure beneath like wet cloth to a corpse. Six great legs ending in blunted points stamped into the snow, and a tail that clattered like a bone chime waved and snapped angrily as a reptilian head with eight eyes opened and closed its jaw with a clap. Long tusks curled from the beast's mouth as its 'lips' rose into an appalling smile. The beast shook off the red on its form before advancing forward, surging with the Flesh Golems at its heels to clash with the coming party of Fifty-Eighters. The bone-crunching, trampling impacts could almost be heard above the hail of gunfire and the primal violence that was the beast's cry.

---

---

"...And He is my guide, the one light and the light to all, banish my shadow and find me in my time of need, for I... I am the lost of the flock."

A cloaked figure fell to the ground, panting out hissing breaths as it pulled itself forward upon the ground. Jacqueline was not intent on stopping her advance for even a moment now that the wall of the fabled city was in her sights. Her body screamed at her to stop, every muscle burning and straining as they seized up, but she refused to stop for even a moment. Just a few more meters and then all that stood between her and safety was a wall. Gloved fingers dug into the snow and dirt, pulling herself forward through the slush and sleet had served to send her body into near-freezing temperatures in the space of a few seconds. What was actually around 5 seconds felt like an eternity before her hand made contact with the stone of the wall.

The night was quiet at this side of the city, but over the wall, far away she could hear the sounds of struggle. Of activity. As she clawed her way to a stand once more, she grasped at the rosary around her cloth-wrapped wrist. The Lord was with her as long as she was with him. He would give her the strength to go on. He would make sure that she did not falter in this, her quest. And for that, she was thankful. In a quick jerk, she had removed her gloves and pushed her slender fingers into the gaps between the stone and mortar of the wall. In the dark of the night, a black mass of cloth jerked and skittered its way up the face of the wall bordering the West Commons of Voldoa, mumbling to itself and shivering violently.

---

---

The shivering, mumbling mass fell into a heap as it rolled over the parapet of the wall and flopped to the floor of the battlement. Weak, pathetic coughs issued out from beneath the cloth as she moved toward the other side in a slow, rising crawl. With one leg over the edge and ready to descend, she moved to position herself for the climb down before hearing the confused 'huh' of a patrolling Engineer. Her heart leapt as she and the guarding Engineer shared a moment's glance. It was an instant's gaze before she lost her footing and was sent tumbling down the side of the wall, nails screeching upon the stone for a handhold, or to slow her before she came to a solid impact with the ground. A crack echoed from her hip and she uttered a small scream as it felt as if it had... 'moved'.

The shouts of the Engineer were lost to her as she limped away from the wall as quickly as she dared and darted into the dark. Her fingers, skinned, grazed and relieved of some of her nails, slipped and slid as she fumbled with her bloodied rosary. Beneath her heaving breaths, she mumbled.

"...the one light and the light... to all, banish my shadow... my time of need, for I am the lost..."

---

The city never sleeps. Unlike in human society the supernatural world was as much nocturnal as diurnal. Still though there generally was less activity at night. The more open streets allowed Anna and her lesser slimes to move about with less obstruction. Moving about they picked up loose trash like sticky vacuums, leaving the path behind them cleaner than before. Some of the larger slimes had taken to staying in a single spot where others would haul their trash to and just toss refuse in without care to where it would land.

Yes when the slime covered skeleton originally crawled out of the pit she was born in she never thought she could perform such a service as this. Despite her sentience coming from many people that met their untimely and sometimes grewsum end she was quite a cheerful individual. Everything was new and exciting even if she'd seen it before. Such was the drawbacks of not having a physical brain. It either took a very long time to learn or was acquired by consuming another thing's brain. But it was not often to find someone that did not need their brain. So slow learning it was.

Although there was the occasional human that was captured or dying. From the sounds of it she may be called in to clean up the mess that would surely be left behind. It was a special agreement that she occasionally benefited from. Hopefully she would get some tasty morsels that would expand her knowledge. Preparing to leave the usual chores to her slimes her trek to the northern mountain was interrupted by a brief scream and chatter near the west wall. Directing her steps in that direction she walked until she stepped on a familiar substance. A small spot of blood was on the ground. Her whole body essentially being a digestive organ it was a familiar taste even when casually walked over. Curious she began to follow the light trail. It could be dangerous, but she lacked the discernment to fret over such things.

@Horrid

November 18, 7:03 P.M.
West Commons, Pale Horse

"Finally!" thought Kaja. "I've finally managed to ditch that glowing brat!" Kaja had simply pointed out a far more interesting resident then himself and quickly hurried along when he was distracted. He was already close so he decided to visit with the clan's greatest "business" partners one Mr. Morgan. And leading Aasiya he entered the Pale Horse.

As he entered the tavern he scanned the rooms for Morgan his eyes rested at the gambling hall, were some of his kin were enjoying a very spirited game of dice. Eventually he spotted Morgan exiting the kitchen and he ran up to great him. "Ahhh, Mister Morgan my father regrests not being here in person but he sent me in his stead to discuss the latest shipments." The young Cat-kin said with a bow.

"The casks of beer have arrived as scheduled, and our supplier has even sweetened the deal with 10 bottles of cola from America." Kaja smiled, "I think hes nervous well cut him out of the deal. He isn't wrong. My father was thinking of starting two small brewery's. One in your bar the other at the clan house he seeks only your permission for the second."

"As the contract states we are to inform you whenever firearms are sold upstairs and we have just smuggled in a shipment of British service revolvers. Police issue not for hunter use." he added quickly.

"Final order of business our 'poachers' have made a report. Two have made it in from Germany with some choice cuts. Unfortunately Nenet and Kaarle have been discovered killed. Silver Battalion caught them as they were headed home. Oh and Kree is back from his 'safari', I suspect he will want to deliver personally." Kaja shuddered as he said the last name Kree was disturbing to most people but to Kaja... he just dident trust the man.

"Also if you have any special requests or matters that need attention now would be the time to ask."

---

November 18, 1:22 AM
North Eastern Watchtower

Hearty laughter and loud conversation filled the room, Lawrence was holding a little get-together with his fellow Engineers. "So Lawrence!" One of the men said, downing his cup of ale after. "Why aren't you on Tier I duty again?" He asked. "I told you many times Hammel, I'm off-duty." Lawrence replied, flashing his white teeth with a smile and leaning back, a small cup of rum in his hand. "Which means I can drink when I want!" He joked, raising his cup before drinking it in one swig. The four other men laughed at the banterous nature of Lawrence. "So, how goes the Tier II work? Treating you all well I hope." Lawrence asked as he set his cup on the table. "Bah you know how it is." Another man said. "All in the Makers' name and whatnot." He said, giving a brief opinion. Then the announcement came.

“Fifty-Eighters are attacking the northeastern proximity! Initiate protocols twelve and thirteen!”

The men immediately got up and moved out the room as well as Lawrence. "Tier II's she said. You don't HAVE to do this." Hammel said to Lawrence. "I'm still an Engineer." Hale said as he picked up a Remington Model 1858 pistol and slinging a Lee Enfield rifle over his back. "And besides, nothing like defending Voldoa after drinking rum to steady your aim." He added with a smile, flashing his white teeth before making his way out of the room.

---

The mass of dirty cloth robes slumped and slunk from shadow to shadow, between slanted buildings and past the windows of residences like some sort of specter from a forgotten nightmare. Jacqueline fumbled and dropped her rosary before scrabbling to pick it up and faltering on her injured leg. She fell to the ground hard beside a pile of crates, but remained silent. There was no was she wasn't being followed, after her performance upon the walls where she entered. If there was one thing she specialized in, it was not being seen but even she couldn't mask a grand mistake such as what had occurred. The hardwood of her rosary was slick in her hands now, sticky and slimy between her pale, vascular fingers.

It was then that she heard a thick gurgling noise coming around the corner, and clawed away to hide behind some of the crates. Curled up in a ball of dark cloth, she looked quite similar to a pile of dirty laundry as she shivered on the hard cobblestones and whispered harshly to herself. What kind of savage sentinel had they sent to deal with her, following her intrusion? Would she be locked away? Would she be executed on the spot? How many lashes was she to receive as penance? So many questions rushed through her head as she turned the same holy symbol over again and again in her hand.

"Dearest Light, fffind me in my time of need. I am but a-" That same gurgling sounded out from nearby, causing her heart to jump into her mouth. A silent moment passed before she went back to her rambling, "I... I am b-but a girl, with nothing to my name but my life. I ask that your g-gaze pass over me and find me sufficient." The gurgling and sucking noise was closer now, was it only a matter of time before she was found? She could feel the warmth seeping from her fingers and her leg on this cold night, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth and the air around her.

@t2wave

_____________________________________
November 18, 7:15 P.M.
West Commons, The Pale Horse

Morgan finished another glass as he was talking to Baldwin, a movement in the gambling hall catching his eye. The group of Cat-kin nodded to an unexpected face coming through the door. Morgan narrowed his eyes as he saw the emissaries companion, something he'd be sure to mention. His excitement cooled as he stood, straightening up and brushing the wrinkles from his suit. "I'm afraid I must excuse myself, but enjoy the meal, make a toast for me, and if you can manage it, find a woman for the night to help you unwind," he said with a chuckle, "you seem like you use the help sleeping."

Morgan motioned for the wait staff to take care of the bar, before giving an apologetic nod to Jasper, "you'll have to forgive me, the less festive side business has reared its head, but I hope you enjoy yourself," he said to the regular as he made his way out of the bar, patting backs and shaking hands as he made his way through the crowd. His jovial manner melted away as he broke away from the crowd to a severe business manner.

Morgan took a seat as he listened in silence, motioning for a drink from a passing waitress as Kaja went through the list, pointedly not getting one for the Cat-kin. Morgan took it all in with little change until he finished, taking few moments to enjoy his drink before responding in a even tone, "I've no complaints with building breweries, in fact you may want to advise your father to open talks to the dryads within the city, they may be open to providing supplies to such a venture," he said pausing for a moment and taking another drink, " but as for the contact outside, I'd advise lowering our order, but keep doing business with him, there are always uses to having sources away from home."

"Pertaining the supplies, I'll have my men pick them up post haste, and I'll deal with Kree when I see him," he said, before raising his glass in a toast, "My condolences to your clan for the loss of their kinsman, may they be welcomed home by Bastet herself. " he said, finishing his glass after the customary prayer, standing and approaching the young Cat-kin, eyes hardly wavering as they locked with his.

"Now, with buisness out of the way, I fear I must make something clear," he said as he began circling Kaja and the tiger, eyeing the creature, "as fine a beast as this may be, I cannot abide you bringing in your work so callously," he said, a curt edge to his voice. " Normally I'd assume you had been raised in a barn, but I've seen you with your father, and I know he suffers no fools, so I take this as a lapse in judgement that shall not be repeated."

Morgan allowed that to sink in, before continuing on, " Luckily I've no time to focus on this." He said, the pleasant tone returning as he went onto new business, "How soon can you have say..." he paused looking back at Baldwin at the bar, noticing the aura death was around a few of the patrons that night, "I believe 4 yes, 4 carts with scavenging teams ready," he said, looking expectantly at Kaja.

---

_{"Your rest is over. Wake up."}

An intense, stinging sensation arose in Dane's chest, prompting his eyes to squint and his mouth to widen. He yelled as his vision returned to him, to faintly see a rather large needle dug into his shoulder, being twisted by a single, sickly-gray arm. As the needle was slowly removed, he could feel the wound heal all on its own the instant nothing was left inside it. He panted, glancing at the darkness around him, save a lone, dim lantern's light above his head. And before that light stood his captor.

Kantus tossed the needle into a waste bin set by a tray of unused ones. Next to the needles rested Dane's feathered cap, which the Lord of Owls promptly picked up and plucked the crimson plumage from. He ran his fingers through the elegant red vane, staring down at it with his unblinking eyes.

"The Crimson Ibis. Albert Lammond's killer." He said, returning his eyes down to Dane, "Even long after its demise at your peoples' hands, its striking visage remains. Untouched by time." He ceased caressing the feather and gently set it aside, on top of the cap. He grabbed another needle and hovered it over to the underside of Dane's chin.

"I want you to tell me all that you know. Where the Fifty-Eighters patrol. How far their reach extends. Where Krecher and the widow are hiding. Everything."

Dane raised his eyes to meet Kantus'. And he issued a proper respone.

"Fuck. You."

Kantus did not reply. He turned his neck over to the further corner of the room, peering into the dim. Where his... guest, resided.

---

The sound drew closer still and then stopped until a skull covered in slime shot into view. Even without eyes the thing was clearly studying the girl. The brief moment of silence must have felt forever before the thing spoke. It had a soft but reverberatory voice. It was something she spent a lot of time practicing to make sound less gargled. "Hello, my name is Anna. Are you hurt?" For the moment she didn't seem to care that the one before her likely shouldn't be there. That required a lot more thinking that was normally put forth by the slime girl.

Taking a step back she knelt down which caused her legs to fold up into one continuous blob with the bones suspended together. "You look hurt to me. And scared. Why are you scared?" After asking the question it occurred to her that her appearance had startled a few other people on occasion. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you. I like to help. Is there something I can do to help you?" Try as she might her naivete was quite strong. It has happened more than once that that was taken advantage of.
@Horrid

---

---

This was not exactly what Lillian had wanted. The newly transformed woman sat in the corner, a fraction of her former size. From toe to wing tip she stood a mere 15 inches. Since her arrival in Valdoa just a day and a half ago her entire world had changed. She dared not leave the clinic for fear of what lay outside. Monsters and strange creatures, all of which seemed to tower over her and could end her should they so choose. If they know who she was, what she has done, they may.

At this point the only thing that lay between her and death was Kantus. In her confusion and panic she outed herself as the emeny. The strange owl man had been kind to her up until that point, tending to her wounds with a gentle touch. Back against the wall it was survival that prompted the fairy to divulge what she knew of the Fifty-Eighter's attack. Where they were coming, around what time they should arrive, everything she could remember at the time.

And now her leader was before her. Her comrads up on the mountian were dying to who knows what and it was her fault. Lillian was torn between two worlds and there was no way to go back. Breaking out of the emotional tug of war she fluttered over and lighed by Parish. Saluting slightly she looked broken. Knowing the man well they served together on many a hunt. There was little chance the Red Raider would recognize her now other than when they attempted to take her life two days ago. "Dane, it's Lillian. Ol' Lil? I know you don't recognize me, it's a long story. But please, cooperate and maybe they'll be kind to you."

November 18, 8:57 PM
West Commons, the Pale Horse

---

"Ah, nothing much," Coltrane said, sitting down at a chair at Thomas' table "I was patrolling the neighborhood when I decided to get something to eat. They've got excellent steaks at this place. Marcello, would you mind running up to the bar and fetching us a round of drinks?"

"Yessir." The mushroom man plodded off through the crowd to the bar, where he attempted to flag down the bartender. He placed the three steins of beer on top of Marcello's head, and Marcello began to walk back to the table when a passerby knocked the beer off of his head. He cursed and ran back to the bartender.

"Anyways," Coltrane said "So how's it feel, being a Class II? Pretty great, eh?"