[center][color=CCCCFF] [h3]Joakim Fortinbras – Belka Schoolhouse[/h3][/color] [@oblivion666][/center] The schoolhouse, with a single, diminutive bell pillar topped with a spire, could be seen easily from Frenzy Plant’s makeshift camp. Having spotted it, Joakim took the initiative and set off, with Ike in pursuit and Riona close behind him. Despite Riona’s short span of time with the guild, and the change come over Ike as a result of his inhuman captivity, the northerner felt that the three made a good team. Of course, he didn’t anticipate any sort of conflict with the nobleman Evgeny, but after so long in service to the war guild he evaluated practically everything in terms of combat practicality. As the saying went: one could take a man out of the battle, but one could not take the battle out of a man. Compared to the shacks stacked like building blocks in the inner portion of the town, the schoolhouse stood like a miniature castle, an edifice of stone. All the same, its walls stooped slightly, and the windows –long since deprived of glass- displayed horizontal boards. No sound came from within, creating a vacuum of silence where the low roar of a living community previously existed. Joakim could not fathom children coming to such a place to learn; the very place seemed dreary enough to suffocate the desire for self-improvement out of anyone. He turned the knob and opened the door in one smooth motion, hanging in the same spot just long enough to inadvertently create a chill that his allies would be obliged to walk through. Before the trio stretched a single room, a long rectangle filled with rows of desks and chairs. At the very front, a blackboard hung on the wall, and before it stood a desk piled with sheets of bark. Behind the desk sat the teacher himself, that startlingly tall, thin, and frilled nobleman named Evgeny, studying a sheet through dark, rounded spectacles. Joakim walked toward him, mildly surprised that the grader of papers had not noticed him, but a creak in the floor rectified that error. Looking up quickly, as if frightened, Evgeny quickly cracked his dry lips into a smile. “Some of our guests—the war guild. Or, mercenaries, rather. I don’t know what might have [i]plant[/i]ed that thought in my head. Welcome to my little school! I’m just looking over the student’s work at the moment,” he added, gesturing at the sheets of bark and the charcoal marks thereon. Sticks of charcoal lay scattered around the room on desks, most likely the only writing utensil that could be gotten. “How may I be of service?” In an officious manner, Joakim replied, [color=CCCCFF]“Just looking around. We knew about this town because of its medicine, but whatever other expectations we had were completely shattered. It’s a very unique place…and it must be a tough life out here. We just wanted to get to know the people. It can’t be very often that you get to tell your story to outsiders.”[/color] He paused for a moment before pulling out a chair from a desk to sit in. [color=CCCCFF]”Perhaps you could tell us about recent events in Belka?”[/color] Evgeny appeared somewhere between pleased and curious—as if he didn’t know whether to open up or to wonder why some soldiers were asking. After a few seconds, he leaned forward slightly and said, “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. Food’s not scarce, thanks to the farms, but it’s nowhere near plentiful. The ticks are terrible; if not for our vaccines, there would be widespread spotted fever. Still, we get by. Not much goes on around here.” He adjusted his hat, thinking. “Except for the killer, of course. Nasty, sordid affair, that was.” [center] [color=F4CA16] [h3]Harper Saxum – Belka Outskirts[/h3][/color] [@liferusher][@lunarlors34][/center] It seemed that no matter how dour the weather or ominous the coming storm, a sun would still shine in the heart of Harper Saxum. Her every action suggested that if her energetic optimism was infectious, the plight of the whole town could be solved in minutes. Whether or not such an attitude befitted a shinobi didn’t appear to concern her, so with a spring in her step she walked alongside Ashlyn and Thor. Though the lightning wizard outranked her handily, Thor struck nobody as the leadership-type, so Harper happily took the lead. Leaving the camp behind, they came to the edge of the cliff overlooking the deep, terrifying canyon and turned left. Mindful of the wind and their footing, the three moved along its edge until they came to the western edge of the town. An arc of huts marked the town perimeter, with nothing more than trees behind them, but Harper’s quick eyes spotted a tiny ridge on the cliffside providing a way around the line of huts. Carefully she made her way across, wishing that like Thor she could simply fly, and not suffer her knees shaking from fear of falling. [color=F4CA16]”Yikes…”[/color] When all three made it across, they stood behind the rightmost house and in front of a shadowy tangle of dead and dying trees, every twig a finger and every branch an arm. [color=F4CA16]”Haha…it’s just like a haunted house!”[/color] Harper smiled, veiling her unease, and sauntered forward. For about twenty minutes the group searched. They turned up all manner of rubbish beneath the trees, from detritus to thrown-out implements and articles of clothing. Not stepping on the rusted prong of a used-up hoe or rake proved to be a challenge. In one hard-to-see spot, however, there was no litter. The earth looked flattened, as if the resting place of a giant block, and smack in the center lay the only tree trunk in the entire morbid copse. Harper narrowed her eyes at it. [color=F4CA16]”Someone came out into this dump to cut down one tree…? That’s dedication.”[/color] [center][color=BC8F8F] [h3]Mercury Marowit – Belka Market[/h3][/color] [@hatakekuro][@caits][/center] Belka’s market, though ramshackle, hosted a crowd of people that all seemed intent on talking over one another. Some demanded, others, haggled, a few complained, and a steady flow of goods exchanged hands. Barter served as a more reasonable form of trade than the use of money in this place. One might wonder, in fact, if any of these people had ever seen the kind of jewel that came from Crocus’ mints. Mercury, Gabriel, and Enma had no eyes for shopping, however, and kept a sharp lookout for anything suspicious. Instead, they found something most unusual. In one corner of the market, populated mostly by empty stalls, an ally led off between some buildings. On the cusp of the ally rested a peculiar shape. At first glance, it looked like a massive sack of vegetables, or perhaps bread dough, so crammed full as to develop piles and rolls. Another moment’s examination, however, made for a new revelation. Atop the vast, cloth-constricted blob was a human head, with brown hair spilling out of a roughhewn hood, trying in vain to hide two extra chins. In places, the coarse cloth was torn, and out of the tears bulged pale flesh. The three were looking at an incredibly obese human—about six hundred pounds. And she was crying. In fact, the tears stained her face, and her mass quivered as she wept. The few townsfolk in this area of the market passed her by as if she didn’t exist. Another glance at her revealed one of her sleeves cut and pasted with dried blood emanating from a poorly-bandaged gash. [center] [color=A4DDED] [h3]Ni Rensa – Cinders of a Home[/h3][/color] [@zarkun][/center] The two women responded quickly to Damian’s call. Eliza, tall and dark, stood still and silently. The expression –or lack thereof- on her face indicated without words that while she didn’t think highly of Damian, she would respect his authority in Phoenix Wing enough to lend her silent service. Ni Rensa, meanwhile, who barely reached five feet, seemed unable to stop moving. Anyone imagining that all cats were lazy had only to look at the restlessness granted by the blood of the war sphinx within her to be proven wrong. In truth, she harbored more ill will than Eliza did for the infamous Blade of Phoenix Wing, but in hopeful emulation of the professional she would not allow it to tamper with the mission. With Damian in the lead, they arrived at the burnt-out hut of Singed Willard very quickly. Beneath the light of a cloudy day, the place did not exude any sort of scariness, but instead a resigned sorrow. The north wall had crumpled and plummeted off the cliff, taking most of the roof down with it. Once inside, Ni imagined that the hand of some vengeful giant had just reached in and scooped half of the house away. Everything that remained was either ashen or charred, but even the stuff burnt black retained its shape. She reached out to a little table still miraculously standing and picked up a mostly-melted picture frame. When she tried to blow the ash off the picture, the weakened paper turned to dust instead, and blew away on a gust of wind toward the void. She tried not to picture a young man reaching out in desperation for a picture of his loved ones as a burning house collapsed around him. Nevertheless the images came, and Ni couldn’t even stop herself imagining his hollow scream. The sound that echoed in her head, she knew, belonged to someone else: a grave man. [i]What is wrong with me?[/i] [color=A4DDED]”So,”[/color] she said, trying to distract herself from imagining. [color=A4DDED]”Why would a pyromancer die in a fire? Everyone thinks it was an accident, I guess. His nyame was Singed Willard, after all. But wouldn’t havin’ experience with that sorta thing prevent something like this? I cut myself on my axe lots, but I get better each time.”[/color] Grabbing a braid in her hand, she twisted it, as if to stimulate her brain. Wizards sometimes lost control of their powers, but a young, novice pyromancer? Her thoughts drifted to magic itself. [i]Fire responds to emotion pretty often, right? Maybe if something made him mad…or scared…?[/i] [center] [color=E1A95F] [h3]Chester Graham – Cragland Plateau[/h3][/color] [@caits][@raijinslayer][/center] Outside the limits of Belka, a perhaps inappropriately intense sparring match raged on. Frenzy Plant’s mysterious medicinal witch, Morimato Tsubano, and its airborne outrider, Chester Graham, did not come close to matching either one of the contestants in power even combined. Yet it fell to them to stop the fight and put Argus at least to work investigating the city. In the face of an ominous sky that set even General Sanders on edge, no man could afford to slack off. Graham drew as close to the fighting as he could before calling out, [color=E1A95F] “Hey! Stop! Hold up! Sanders needs you in Belka!”[/color] When things calmed down, Tsubano stepped forward to offer her own help. [color=29AB87]”Argus, I know you suffer from demonic feedback in response to negativity. Nevertheless, we want your assistance, and it’s time we gave you some real help when it comes to curbing your dark power. By now you are acquainted with Xyster, yes?”[/color] The witch waited for a reply. [color=29AB87]”Well, Dullahans are violent, evil creatures in their natural state. Way back when we encountered Xyster for the first time, she was branded with a special seal to keep her contained. Gradually she developed into the more human persona you are familiar with. The point is this: the seal contains within it the true authority of Frenzy Plant, magically condensed into a sigil almost holy in nature, and it serves to keep chaos at bay. I am able to apply a Seal of Denial on you and contain your powers. Your magic might not be as strong, but you will have control.”[/color] Despite her conversational tone, it would be apparent that she was not so much offering a choice and explaining what awaited Argus in the near future. [center] [color=324AB2] [h3]Nandy Rewman – Cleric’s Chapel[/h3][/color] [@liferusher][/center] Moving through the town, even with a lesser presence, did not present the two soldiers and their prisoner with an issue. Belka’s east side harbored more farmland and pens for livestock than the ever-so-slightly more urban west-central zone. In this community, there were no real divides in property. Structures and contraptions stood where they were most useful; tools lay where they fell. Townsfolk hard at work gave off an air of resignation. Here, everyone knew they were in it together. The chapel turned out to be not near the graveyard, but in it. Headstones, statues, and oddly-shaped symbols dotted the uneven soil on either side of the bricked path leading to the foreboding, eerie chapel. Nandy looked around constantly, nervously attentive for some startling surprise, and Bytan Brass kept his eyes forward on the building. Until now, they had kept Isla between them, but at this instant both were inattentive enough that the girl might be able to slip between some tombstones and make her escape. Only a few meters separated the group from the chapel and whatever lay within; if Isla thought her chances were better in this remote, poor village than with the soldiers of Frenzy Plant, now was the time to take action.