Rem moved at Ellorei's pace, arriving right behind her as she discovered the caravan. It was indeed a wreck. The smell of blood and meat was heavy in the air from the literally blown apart venbu. The older druid brought his wrist up to his nose and kept his voice low. "When it comes to the fair races there is always a reason." He answered in response to Ell. "I don't see any movement around us yet." He paused, lifting an enchanted rein left in several pieces with the tip of his staff. He dropped it quickly as he heard more muffled talking from further beyond. The caravan itself looked to be mostly intact. A marvel that this kind of mess happened and yet that metal can was still whole. "Either bandits are still looting the cabin or we have survivors." Rem verbally noted. He hadn't seen any humanoid remains yet, of course he wasn't able to look at every angle of the scene either. He moved toward the cabin, his staff clacking against the ground every few steps.

The spell was readied in Rem's mind as he approached the door. There was no subtlety to his movements, no intention to hide. He moved straight to the door and clamored his staff against it three times.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________



Daelin nearly jumped... nearly. More of a small hop, really. Taking a good step away from the door, he raised his crossbow in preparation for the worst. "I really hope that's Marilyn." He prayed. Whatever was out there didn't seem like a beast, what the hell kind of beast would knock courteously? Daelin turned his head to the gathered crew. "Captain?" He addressed.

- A Quarter past 9PM.
- Mentions: @Mataus

When Ayer saw the shadow of the guardsmen draw closer, his heart nearly skipped a beat. He held his breath and pushed himself closer behind the corner of the turn, finger on the trigger of Wax Jury. He had it all planned out, how to move, how to take out this man without a single moment to react. But something was wrong in his head. Though he told himself that he needed to do this, the thought of hurting another person made him feel horrible. His lips felt dry and chapped, despite all the moisture of the sea.

All his life, his work was always designed to help people. Though there was a bit of revenge and ego tied into the motivation, these long years spent adrift were fundamentally towards figuring out a way to make people's lives easier. These Ars were supposed to be his greatest revelation upon the world of magic and technology. And yet, he was using these very tools for inflicting pain and treason. But what choice did he really have? The Nillium will do with his Ars far worse than he possible can, if he allowed it. His brow furrowed just thinking of the act of destruction he had committed to his own prized work earlier today. All of those tools and crafts, meant to one day lead the revolution to advance the sentient races of Thoris, to perhaps rid them of the threat of the untamed wilds, gone and destroyed by the self-initiated meltdown. There were probably be bits left, he was sure. The jewel cores themselves were incredibly durable. But he was sure that was not enough to replicate the complexity of the Ars itself.

But his time to contemplation was over. The shadow was a few steps away now.

One for many... this is what you must accept, Ayer...

That drunken act he overheard earlier seemed to really work wonders. The young man didn't even look like he wanted to be bothered with the search anymore, disgruntled and carelessly walking down towards the lower floor where Ayer was. The second the man pulled the corner, Ayer stepped out and pointed the barrel at his chest and blasted him. He hoped the loud pop of condensed wind wouldn't draw too much attention. Though there was also a slight spark of mana influx from the crystal cores to worry about too, though much less noticeable.

Ayer simply hoped for the best. And hoped the man lived too. He lowered the power considerably, afraid to kill the unsuspecting innocent. Maybe a little too much, one might even say.

Flin looked at the many explosive devices. He found one that looked exactly like the flashbang that had been used earlier, and stuffed it into his pocket. He had seen it in action, and had a good idea of how it worked now. Perhaps it would have some use at one point. But he wasn't about to take any of the other devices. Using one carelessly without knowing what it would do could just as easily endanger himself or his allies instead. He glanced up at Zay, blushing a bit at his comments. "I-I ain't into that shit!" He whined, like a dog who'd just been whacked. He snickered shortly after, and laughed it off.

As he found the note and the tattoo, he narrowed his eyes and swiftly tried to snatch the piece of paper. He tried to read it quickly to see if there was anything interesting on it. If it wasn't anything special, there was no need to tell the captain about it. And there was also the small possibility that the captain would choose to keep the information to himself. After he'd read the note through, he pointed at the tattoo. "Anyone seen that tattoo before?" He asked the others. But as someone knocked on the door, he immediately stood up and glared at the entrance. He took a combat stance, some mana forming around his left hand.

To sum up Ellorei at this moment in a word it would have to be torn. She wasn't sure if she should grieve the dead or seek their justice. It probably was for the best that Rem took the lead. This was Ellorei's first encounter with an official caravan up close. Her tribe had always avoided them, traveling with a wide enough girth that her childhood was shielded from them. The stories of armies told around the Cha'miran fires at night often included caravans, it was for her the tales parents told to keep their children in line. Despite being twenty-five, she found herself clutching her staff a little closer, "Rem, have you dealt with soldiers before?"

Ellorei matched her steps to Rem as he neared the metal contraption her nose wrinkled. Metal made her uneasy, she couldn't hear a voice from metal and Ellorei's judgment was often made by the voice she could hear from an element, creature, or plant. It made Gaia's restriction of entering cities an easy one for her to keep. As a male voice emerged from the caravan, Ellorei's eyes narrowed. She wanted to be friendly, but until she had her answers that was going to be difficult, "Are you responsible for this? How many of you are there? What happened? Seriously, it looked like you set off an explosion? That's a bit unnecessary. Nothing warrants an explosion, at least not around here."

Philip turned right into the concussive blast, and before he even knew what was going on, his body was propelled across the sunken alley, and against the building opposite to where Ayer stood. He hit the brick with a satisfying thud back-first, and landed on the ground with his head just barely tilted forwards. Despite their sneak attack, it looked like Philip was able to keep conscious, even after bumping his head. The man kept himself from falling forward with both hands and slowly tried to left himself up.

"Hall..p.. Help.." His voice was a quiet breathy murmur, and he wobbled from side to side. What just happened? He looked up to see Ayer wielding his strange machine and narrowed his eye to try and make out his features. Philip didn't know what he looked like, but that weapon of his would give him away if he could just focus. But before he could manage any completely thoughts, his consciousness quickly faded, and the man fell forwards chest-first into the damp concrete beneath him.

From the edge of the Alley, just out of site from where Ayer and Paric were standing, heavy footsteps began to echo towards them. At first, that's all they would hear. But the approaching man's shadow was cast wide against the left wall by moonlight. The shape of his upper body stretched far, but with a metallic swish, the shadow grew even longer as he drew a blade from his waist.

"Hey hey, Phi*HICK*lip. No breaks! No breaks! What're you doin' back here?"



Looking out into the forests that surrounding Nillium, several men and women were lining the edge of the encampment's wall. Among them stood Bertha Nillium, the Don's beloved sister, and her two favorite henchmen, Joseph Bristle, and Larry Norwell. Of the many nameless grunts that polluted the city of Nillium, those two were especially tactless. Most of the gang's members at least adhered to some kind of moral foundation, but those who served under Bertha had a terrible habit of ignoring the rules. Being second-hand to the Don had its perks, and none of them boded well for anyone who ticked off that woman in any way, shape or form. Of course, she was just as shameless as her underlings. When the Nilliums had first 'acquired' Ayer, she suggested that the Don immediately resort to more sinister means in order to unravel the man's designs. Whether that amounted to torture, murder, or more subtle strategies didn't bother her in the slightest. But the Don was a reasonable man. He liked to consider all of his options before resorting to senseless violence.

The forests were silent today. Unlike everyone else in town, Bertha was one of the few who decided to keep herself separated from her brother's silly witch-hunt. If they had just gone with her ideas from that start, Ayer wouldn't have even been an issue! But keeping watch at the wall was pretty boring. Most of the time, Bertha would convince the guards to just play cards with her, rather than keep an eye out. That's probably why people were able to sneak into Nillium to begin with. Bertha and her cronies had a lot of pull, and they were a negative influence in more ways than one.

"Full house!" Bertha shrieked, "Whattaya got? Lay 'em out boys!" Joseph smiled and laid his hand flat, but Larry just tossed his cards away.

"Four of a kind," Joseph announced. He cheated, as he often would, but Bertha knew it. She laughed it off and shoved her snacks across the table.

"Yeh win again you filthy cheatin' bastard!"

"Bertha," Larry started, "We should probably keep an eye out-"

"Shut it!" Bertha growled, "Don't be such a spoil sport! Nobody's stupid enough to screw with the Nilliums! Any spies that get through won't be gettin' any information that 'ain't already public!" Larry rolled his eyes and stood up. "Where ya goin?"

"Sick of losin'?" Joseph gawked.

"Sick of bein' made to lose, jackass," He said calmly. Larry made his way to one of the many staircases that lined the wall and sighed. He stopped for a second. "Gonna go get some more food." Bertha rolled her eyes.

"Put anything else in that tummy'o yours and you'll end up more fat than man," she said quietly. Joseph snickered at her little insult. Larry didn't waste any time acknowledging it, and quickly sped downstairs. With their third player gone, suddenly rigged poker wasn't any fun. Larry's reactions were what made it worthwhile after all! It's not like they were betting coin or anything, anyways.

"He'll be back, miss," Joseph assured Bertha. But she didn't seemed convinced. Her attitude quickly drooped and she slunk into her chair like an angst ridden teenager with her arms crossed over her chest. "Don't ya go worrying yourself."

"He hates me," She pouted. Joseph rolled his eyes with a gentle chuckle.

"If he hated you, the boy wouldn't be so loyal. There are plenty of other posts for a man with his talents. I Reckon there's some reason he follows you around." Bertha blew at a strand of hair that clung to her sweaty cheek. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it." She rolled her eyes.

"Shut up Jo."



There was nowhere mustier than the dank underground tunnels that ran between Nillium's sewer system. Pipes and cracks were littered throughout the open-topped trenches that the city used to disposed of its waste, leading liquid and garbage from one trench to the next. A few of those tunnels served a purpose beyond that, though. Only a few people know about the underground networks, and even fewer had direct access to them through some parts of the city. But for every Nillium that had permission to be stomping through those filthy escape routes, there was somebody who didn't.

The tunnels weren't all that well hidden if people were willing to dive into the shit-filled trenches that ran across town. For some, that was the only option. Much like Ayer, there were many visitors that didn't like the idea of working for the Don, or staying in the Nillium encampment. Others simply couldn't contribute anything to the continued growth of their town. Since the tunnels rarely saw any practical use, as the town itself had not fallen under siege in years, homeless bums and renegades made them their home. Although there wasn't any sense of community underneath Nillium, a few vagabonds would cooperate from time to time if they saw the need to. It was because of their combined efforts, that the tunnels were rarely combed. The Don had more important things to worry about then a few losers mucking up his sewers. To him, they were merely trash that didn't even deserve a proper cleanup. Going through the expansive tunnels would have been a pointless effort, anyways. It was almost impossible to sneak up on anybody in the winding network without making a splash. At least, that's what most people thought.

One of Nillium's bums was panting heavily in the tunnels beneath the city with his back and hands pressed firmly into the smoothed tunnel wall. His chest jutted out rapidly with every breath, but he tried his best to constrict every last movement he made.

'calm yourself willie, the gin's makin' you see things'

His desperate attempt to calm himself had been pointless. He heard it again. A familiar tapping against the walls of the tunnel. Something metal tapped rhythmically. One-two, one-two. Then the humming started again, moving in sync with the metal tapping. 'Mh-hm hmm hm~Mh-hm hmm hm~' Tippity-tap, tippity-tap. One-two, one-two. It got louder and louder, like it had done before, and the man's heart began to race. It pounded in his chest viciously. Blood thumped through his neck and forced him sliding down the walls until he hit the ground.

'calm... calm... Ca..'

The tapping stopped, along with the humming, when it sounded like the culprit was just around the corner. The man held his breath and turned his head slowly. He gasped for air when there was nothing there, and sank into the wall. These hallucinations had been going on for hours now. Stress like this couldn't be good for his health.

'calm...ca..c-c-k-_ka^-kssh_-kshhhh!'

His heart almost stopped when he hear metal dragging against the wall. It sounded like it was only a few inches away from his left ear. His head snapped towards the sound even though his veins felt like they were filled with lead. There was a blade slowly dragging against the stone, leaving behind a clear mark as it cut an inch-deep into the wall.

"Come now, are we out of breath already?"

The blade stopped inches away from his cheek. His body began to pulsate as he tried to muster the energy to pick himself up off the ground. But as soon as he scrambled to his feet, something rammed against the side of his rib-cage and sent him crashing back into the dampened dirt below.

"A bore! You're become a bore!"

That voice was familiar. He recognized it immediately. It was a man's voice. The same voice that hummed to the tapping. The tapping that had been following him around all night. The man pushed himself to face whoever forced him into the ground, but a jolt of pain coursed through his arm before he could make any moves. He felt the arm go numb as blood welled from his shoulder blade. He'd just been stabbed.

"Silly Nilliums, nillies, nice little nuanced nincompoops! Nilliums? Nillie Nilliums, was it? You all smells exactly the same, pardon me for my nose does not discriminate between the bold or the cowardly mice that linger in these filthy gutters, but perhaps that sweet, succulent smell has bewildered me in the past! Look here, look!" A shadow, barely visible, forced its blade deeper into the bumb's shoulder, and turned him over while cutting through more flesh. A grown of pain rang through the tunnel like a blaring Venbu. "Hello! Hello, little one! Hi!" The man on the ground looked up at his assailant. A few beams of stray moonlight bounced off the shimmering pools of the tunnel to just barely light up the face of his ruthless attacker. "Yes, yes, hi!"

His skin was pale like wax paper, and his eyes had the faintest ruby glow to their silhouettes. What stood out the most though, was his overbearing smile.

"Did you like my song, little one? An ode to the indulgence of this petty world! An ode long lost to time, I'm afraid, time consumes anything worth putting in a museum, a sad thought, so I cannot guarantee you'll recognize the name!" His smile widened. "The Sky Falls, and With it, Our Dreams. A famous poem of its era, I'm sure."

"P-p-puh-ple-"

"Puh-puh-pish posh! A man that stutters cannot expect to be acknowledged as anything more than a drunken fool!" The sword started to cut around the circumference of the drunk's shoulder as its wielder put pressure on the handle, squeezing out a few more painful groans. "What a wretched thing you are. We've just only met, and yet, you lay breathing bated breaths so beautifully! You haven't even asked my name yet, you scoundrel!"

From the end of the tunnel, several voices called out.

"Down here! I think he's hurt! Get him!"

The pale-faced figure turned towards the approaching voices slowly, dragging his blade through his victims chest as if he was no longer present. The drunken man shouted and hollered incomprehensible phrases as his lungs were sliced in half. Blood began to pool in his throat, reducing his pitiful groans to a series of guttural gurgles. Before long, the assailant was standing face to face with three men, all of whom were wielding blades, and a few mana-lit lanterns. They stopped in the tunnel and stared at the pale figure quietly. This wasn't Ayer at all. It smiled at them and casually flicked the blood from its weapon.

"Hello!"



Flin couldn't make out the writing on the note. There were a few lines of Myti-script with a few words, or phrases, crossed out with black ink. Zay began to peer towards the Myti's lower back, but spun towards the Caravan's front door as soon as the tapping started. Neal and Noru reacted in a similar fashion, completely forgetting about the two females on the floor of their cavern for a second. The medic didn't let his attention get stolen for long, though. Neal looked at Zay, who peered to him as well, before looking to the door.

"Open it," He said quietly. Neal, after a short delay, walked past Daelin and unlocked the door. Zay stood up and positioned himself against the wall, trying his best to conjure something small and sharp in his right hand.

- Around 9:30PM.
- Mentions: @Mataus

Ayer breathed a grateful sigh when the guard showed signs of life after reciving the blast. Even if he was about to give their position away.

“Sorry, I really am...” he muttered, checking the pulse of the guard before turning to his device and flipping a panel at his hip open.

Still breathing, fantastic news. But are you, my little Ars...?

His eyes glanced over the messy rows of buttons, bulbs, and switches, stopping atop a metal meter split by crude welded bars that outlined five ticks. Attached to it was what appeared to be a re-fitted gauge pointer. The needle had move up the first tick half-way, all of which looking the same dull bronze except for one. The last tick had a bright red film and a doodle of a squiggly mushroom adorned the end. The was no questioning what that meant. This device used large amounts of power no matter what, sometimes even shooting multiple ticks on particularly straining charges. Luckily, he didn’t use that much mana for this task.

Good, still stable...
Eyes flicking down at a faint blue light among all the wires and pipes. And there is still plenty of power left for my plan.

But his hopefulness did not last long. His pale eyes then glanced over at the shifting moonlight, the pale yellow disks widening as a very familiar, slurry, though suddenly menacing voice now called out.

The Nillium commanders were no jokes when it came to keeping law, no matter how casual or unassuming they acted normally. Ayer remembered just how nimble one of them flicked a blade to his neck, an odd wishy, pale fellow, who casually threatened him on his welcoming tour of their facilities. He didn’t even have time to react. If it wasn’t for the others intervening at that point, his snide comment would’ve cost him his life. He was then told that was normal, and was that one’s way of saying ‘hello’. So if that one was just playing around, Ayer would never be able to match someone of apparent equal rank in a straight fight. Especially not when he was so tired from all the running and snooping as it was.

Ayer’s head snapped to the left and he gazed up the platform where Paric stood. He wanted to yell, but stopped himself as his mouth went open. No, if they caused a commotion now, all of Nillium will come down on them.

They needed to deal with Mop. Now.

Before the shadow could make it any closer, he pointed the Ars and twisted the curved handle again, turning the dial to a spark synbol. Lightning. This time, he pumped up the force considerably. Ayer knew it would drain a lot of mana, but he also knew he only had one shot to incapacitate the man. Otherwise, things were going to get a whole lot rowdier than just a drunken brawl.

...

A crossbow, several men taking up battle positions and two men preparing magic to use. Not a very friendly welcome. Rem huffed a sigh. With a passing glance at the shirtless Zay and then between the garb of Flin and the various array of outfits and uniforms among the others, he wasn't certain whether they were bandits or soldiers. Rem swept a free hand up to scratch the back of his head. "You do realize you are quite the motley crew right?" He commented. Though to be fair he wasn't much of a great example of citizenry himself. The elder druid's own clothes made him look like the love-child of a bear and a tree.

Rem passed the staff along his front, holding it firmly against the ground with both hands before him. "You aren't highwaymen are you?" The druid made a particular nodding gesture toward Zay. "He certainly looks like one." He grumbled.

The square was as dull as ever in the morning sun. Most mornings in Berganfont were just the same. The town guard were still lurking about the High Houses, trolling the streets for any unsavory fellows that might've wandered up from the dank basin of the city. Homeless folk, eager salesmen, and a flurry of curious children liked to cross the Darkened Bridge and lurk between the alleys of rich-folk. There was money to be earned, or stolen, if you knew where to look. But with so many goons of the church doing their morning runs, it was a risky task to try and screw with the big-wigs. The closer anyone got to the Black Cathedral, the more dangerous it was for them. God forbid they were caught by an actual clergymen, or one of those wretched bishops. Getting a beating from the armored muscle heads that wandered the streets was nothing compared to whatever the hell happened to anyone that found themselves escorted into the cathedral.

It was too early for trouble to brew in the lower districts though.

Lilith's keg was usually one of the first places to open. Sometimes her kids would set the bar and get the breakfast orders ready, sometimes it would be Lilith herself. That place was a chaotic mess, but that didn't change the fact that the Low Houses appreciated their efforts. It would only be a few more minutes before either Lilith or one of the boys would lower the crude chain that 'prevented' intruders from waltzing inside. Nobody was low enough to rob Lilith, so it didn't really matter, but that didn't stop everyone from worrying.

The nearby houses had already been lit, marking the early hours of Berganfont's community as it sprung to life. Soon the square would be filling with the usual. Crooks, beggars, civilians of every shape and size, all sharing one thing in common.

They were broke.

Shane wandered around within the square, glancing over at some people that he passed by. It was still early, so he didn't expect anyone to try anything funny. Still, he'd learned that he could never be too cautious. There were several torn holes in his shirt, showing just how long he had it and how much it had been through. But it didn't look too dirty, despite it's poor state. He wandered towards Lilith's pub, as his stomach started to growl. It sounded like an angry bear. 'Geez...I don't have much money left. But I should have enough for a good meal!' He thought. He could reveal his bag of gold from his pocket to count whatever he had left, but that would be basicly him begging to get robbed. He stopped in front of the pub to wait until it would open, not seeming to care about how poor it looked from the outside. The man was simply hungry, and he'd need a good breakfast to start the day.



Flin was prepared for anything as the door was opened. As the two strangers were revealed, and Rem decided to question them, Flin stared lazily at them and he became more relaxed. They didn't seem all that threatening, and seemed unaware of what Caravan Centaurus had been through. They also weren't Myti, which already made him less tense. He slipped the piece of paper in his left pocket for now, just in case. If they'd found a Myti later on, they would be able to translate it for them. Perhaps the info would be useful.

He gave a nasty smirk at Rem as he made a comment about Zay's appearance. "You two look like hobo's, yourself." He taunted. The mana that he'd been gathering in his left hand diminished. He glanced over at Zay. "Not sure why they're here, but I don't think these guys are with those Myti. They would probably not simply knock on the door, and would be better equipped than this." He said, pointing over at Rem's staff.

@RyuShura

Paric had walked over to a wall to lean on as he watched the guard walk further into Ayer's trap. With his adrenaline gone, his legs were killing him after all that running. It was going to hurt to just walk to the ships, he was sure running would strain or pull a muscle, if not worse. Both of their fates rested on Ayer's shoulders, but the young man seemed somewhat reliable even if he had yet to prove himself. Paric shook his head slowly. What had he done to himself?

Ayer's strike was announced by a loud pop followed by a flash of light. Paric's eyes widened at the strength of that blow. It had been wind magic, he was sure of it. The flash left him confused, however. Did that device actually work so well as to expel elemental mana? He shook his head again. Ayer was turning out to be more useful to their survival than he thought. That blow had actually pushed the man into the wall which had caused a audible thump. Paric pushed himself off the wall and started over towards the man laying on the ground. Ayer was checking the guards pulse with relief flooding his face. So the guard did survive that blow.

Paric heard the shout and footsteps as he was halfway to Ayer. Ayer was already raising his device, his hands working over the many buttons and whatever else was on it. Paric turned towards the oncoming man, realizing who it was. Mop. "Whaa..." Paric had sworn the man was drunk off his ass earlier. Yet here he was, coming straight for them. Paric felt a faint trace of mana swirling around his hands as he realized he would have to fight. "Ayer," Paric muttered, "I hope you have something for this commander." There was more than simple cruelty that allowed a person to become a commander of Nillium. No, Mop would put up a fight. Paric just wondered if the man was capable of strong magic.

"It would do you well to remember what a druid can do with nothing." Ellorei huffed if they wanted banter she was happy to oblige if there was one thing that she prided herself on it was talking. She popped her head into the caravan, noting that the people were, in fact, a motley looking crew. She brought the flame to her hands once again in order to brighten the area once, "You spoke of a captain are you missing them?"
Her eyes glancing about the interior of the caravan. An honest curiosity seemed to overtake the druid. This was the first time, though wary, she'd seen a caravan up close and there were soldiers inside to make it even more curious. Looking at her it probably looked as though she'd reverted in years. Ellorei's desire for knowledge was such a large part of who she was that it oftentimes got the redhead in dangerous situations.
Making sure that her bare feet never touched the metal she walked closer and looked at what she assumed were soldiers, "What happened?"

Locke slowly tip-toed through the alley, burdened by a sudden fit of hiccups that made his entire torso pop upwards every few seconds. The shadow of his blade stretched even longer against the far wall of the alley until Mop's shadow melted into the background, and his face peered into view. He looked through his scraggly, water-logged hair, catching a glimpse of Paric first.

"Philip?" He mumbled, "You look pointier than usual." Locke's eyes settled on the Eldi's pointed ears. He grasped the hilt of his sword - a thinner, longer variant of blade more common in the north - and lowered his eyes until they reached the man's hands. They shot back up in an instant and he slowly released his grip on the empty wine bottle he was holding. "Oh-" The moment it took him to realize what was going on was all the time Paric had to react.

Mop dashed into a sprint and dropped the bottle in his left hand. His footsteps were unusually silent as he proceeded, rousing only the slightest splash of noise as he stepped through a puddle that separated him from Paric and Ayer. He stopped hard on his right foot and twisted his body clockwise, clutching both hands onto the hilt of his blade. Locke's muscles bulged with a sudden influx of mass, and his once glassy eyes grew clear in an instant. Within moments, before the shattered glass behind him even had the chance to settle, he was upon the Eldi fire mage with his blade held low at his hip with both hands, poised to strike. The once aloof Captain pulled his blade upwards at a diagonal angle, using his waist and legs to erupt into an upwards slash aimed to sever Paric's torso from hip to shoulder in a single devastating blow.



Zay considered killing both of the newcomers on the spot for their commentary alone.

"Watch your mouth, little missy," Neal huffed, stepping in front of the rest of Centaurus' crew, "Druid or not, most would take what you've said as a threat." Zay reached up to Neal's shoulder and patted him away from the newcomers.

"Neal, shut up," He said quietly. Neal pulled his arm away from Zay and almost brought it back down into the back of his head. The only thing stopping him was... Well, he wasn't really sure. There were plenty of reasons to whack Mr Copp across the back of the head, and he'd only known the man for a few hours. Zay sat back down at the rounded table that sat at the room's center and sighed. "We'd be glad to share our tale of woes with a couple of wandering love-birds. Pardon my associate's mood. He's recently had to deal with almost getting his arm... Uh, torn off." Neal spun around and glared at Zay with his mouth half-open. The disgruntled Captain grit his teeth when he noticed that Captain Copp was smiling and half-snickering to himself. His eyes danced between Flin and Zay for a moment, and then he looked to Noru, hoping for a single voice of reason to side with his cautious outlook. Noru looked away, and then back to Neal before shrugging.

"Druids are not known for their hostility," Noru said quietly. Zay snickered to himself again.

Neal almost collapsed under his own weight.

"Read a book sometime, Captain," Zay mocked. Neal slumped away from the two druids and leaned against the wall next to where Lyullia was resting. He didn't trust the druids at all. Their appearance was just... Far too coincidental. Zay looked at them and beckoned them forwards. "Sit, sit. I'd be the active Captain, since you're asking. Name's Zay Copp, and as far as I know, I haven't been missing since I was a kid." He reached underneath the table and opened a drawer, rummaging quietly for something to snack on. There should have been a couple of rations still hanging loose. He'd stored them there for just such an occasion during their trip. "Welcome to Caravan Centaurus."

Flin glanced over at Zay for a moment. He didn't see the newcomers as a big threat, but the female druid certainly had some fighting spirit. And the fire that she created showed that she could wield magic well, focusing it enough to a point where the flames wouldn't lash out chaotically but were specifically used to light up the area consistently. He shrugged, and sat down at the rounded table as well. "We're a little stressed out, since we were just attacked by a bunch of Myti." He stated plainly. He would have searched for his guitar if it were somehow still intact, but now wasn't the time. "But yea, uh. Welcome. My name is Flin Meeru. Second Lieutenant." He said calmly, sitting lazily in his seat. He was still a little wary of these people, but Zay's relaxed attitude made him feel more calm.

The minutes ticked by like hours. Berganfont's air was fresh, but despite being surrounded by wildlife, and free of pollution, the gutters of the Low Houses always ebbed with with scents of grime and gunk. But after a few minutes of waiting outside of the old keg, Peter and Leon Casteli came running up to open the shop to the public. Shane was the only one there, though. It was pretty rare for Lilith to get any customers this early in the morning, so the Casteli brothers were a little shocked to see somebody standing outside already. Peter, the younger of the two boys, peered around the corner of the main doorway and stared at Shane. He'd recognized the man. Shane had been there before, but he'd never come out to speak with him directly. Neither had his brother. The little blonde boy waved him inside regardless, and his shorter brother joined him with a little smile. And then they disappeared into the building and rushed towards the kitchen. Looks like they were cooking early, today.

Shane smiled back at the boys as they ran off, calmly walking inside. The inside of the pub was incredibly clean and well-maintained as usual. This was probably one of the few places within the Low Houses that was so clean on the inside. The man sat down gently at one of the tables, calmly waiting for someone to show up. Now that he was inside, he felt that it was safe enough to check how much money he truly had. He pulled out his bag of gold for a moment, counting quickly. He gulped for a moment, but then sighed in relief as he put it back into his pocket. It looked like he would just have enough to pay for his meal today. He really needed to find himself another criminal to go after. It was that, or starve. But he wasn't about to let that ruin his day. It wasn't the first time that he was low on cash like this, and it would likely not be the last.

@RyuShura

Paric questioningly furrowed his brows as Locke began to speak. Philip? Who the hell was Philip? Paric began to move his hands up and slowly backtrack when it hit him. Oh, he thought, the guard we just incapacitated was Philip. To Paric there was not any sign that would have predicted Locke's lightning fast charge. The Eldi did not have a chance to even think about how he would use his mana, as he was too stunned to do so, nor did he have the time. Instead, he launched himself sideways, the launch being weak with his fatigued legs. Had he been of complete health the leap would probably have been enough to safely dodge the entire rush, but his weak leap made it possible for him to be caught if Locke was able make a change in direction.

There was no chance that Paric would have been able to conjure a spell that would have stopped that rush. From the split second Paric was able to see Locke he had noticed something unnatural about the drunk. It would have taken more time to gather and release a devastating wave of fire capable of stopping that headlong rush. For all of the Eldi's natural ability with magic, he had to rely on his agile Eldi physique. It seemed Locke knew this as well, for he had not hesitated when the situation became known to him. It seemed that the situation would lay in the hands of Ayer. Even if Paric managed to dodge, Locke would probably be right behind him.

Wor’Da’Li was falling, Za’Kul could not stop to rescue her and try and save himself. A hearty and heavy sacrifice he would learn from if he got out alive. One had to take risks, whether or not these risks payed off were what differentiated warriors from cowards, and apparently the youthful and wishing like Za’Kul from the wont wisdom of Ja’Kul who fled.

In his path were a crowd of Lok’Sha. Wor survivors at that. Now, he had to think quick on his feet as the Hearth site was collapsing rapid around him.

“You not like darkskins, but darkskins only help. Gave workers, gave tools. You stop me, but then stop rest of yours from getting out.” more Wor were scattering, some who had taken Za’Kul’s idea and headed for the nearest tunnel.

“Kul low, but not enemy. Wor live on but will be small,” it was their entire home collapsing; not just some section of it. Thousands of Wor had or were going to lose their lives here today, and would be reduced to little less than a meandering clan, now devoid of their leader’s son and with no idea of where their leader was, “Wor going to need Kul help if Wor want to stay alive. Kul know low and high tunnels. Kul have protection still.”

There were no lies this time. He only hoped they bit his bait; he had plans for himself and these remaining Wor if he could convince them to put aside their differences with his kind and his tribe for but a moment.

- Half past 9PM
- Mentions: @Mataus

The air, even despite being close by the sea, felt intense and musky, reeking of brine and sweat. Though perhaps it was just Ayer. Knowing he was no match, much like a defenseless rat, he silently stalked after the shadow looming above. With each step forward, he would glance out and instantly duck his head, hoping not to be seen. He moved like this until he reached the stairs back up towards the upper floors. The inventor flinched when he heard a quiet splash down the hallway and up the stairs he was crawling on, instantly turning that direction with his Ars aimed out.

His hands shook even though his eyes glared. Not much an intimidating force, he'd have to admit.

But the battle struck a different tide. Though he prepared himself for the worst, upon turning the corner he saw a savage shark burst out of the water and leap at his ally instead. Ayer could barely catch the fleeting form as 'Mop' darted across the room, like a predator in the tides. He pivoted, blade lowered and swung, all in one fluid motion. In a split moment, the jolly drunken that once was absently hollering sea shanties had transformed into a beast. He wanted to shout out to Paric but even his words wouldn't hope to reach him before the blade would. He wanted to pull the trigger too, but what if the man moved and he missed? If he was too slow and their opponent changed position, Pacis was directly in the line of fire.

He clenched his teeth and did the only thing that came to mind. He took aim and fired.

Squeezing the trigger, the Ars main chamber would suddenly emit a spark that traveled through the compressor and condenser units and down the handle an barrel in an instant. The whole alleyway would flash, followed by a soft low frequency. The many Ars cores sticking out the main unit would charge a bright rainbow-like spectrum, this higher intensity a result of using a higher mana charge, combined with a more unstable 'lightning' mana-elemental profile.

It would be obvious to Mop that he was being attacked from behind. In essence, he wanted it to be very obvious. Ayer figured the man was smart and wasn't some complete berserk maniac who had no interest in self-preseveration. In his mind, Mop had only two choices before the lightning would hit. He was in the middle of an attack, so his movements were already narrowed. Realistically, the shaggy-haired man can either let the swing rip to hit Paric, but tank the artificialized lightning bolt. Or do the more sensible thing and try to evade the lightning beam, thus moving the scenario back to neutral.

However, this action was nothing more than a bluff. He knew they had a losing hand and was calling all-in, hoping to get a fold.

Ayer purposely aimed the lightning spark slightly off center, towards the pool of water that Mop surely just ran over. He heard it, after all. The blast would spread enough to hit it. If Mop decided to dodge backwards back into the water, he'd go right into the trap. If he didn't, it wasn't a big issue. As a man of science, he didn't bank on pure luck anyways. He wanted to avoid getting his partner struck, more than anything. He wasn't entirely confident on Eldi physiology, but a direct hit from the beam at this level of intensity will stun even larger beasts of the wild. So fatality was almost guaranteed on smaller beings. Plus, if they were back at a neutral fighting position, their chances would be significantly better against Mop.

Ayer knew playing a trick was the only option he had, knowing how unfamiliar his technology was to practically everyone and how inept he was in straight combat.

"Drunk on the job, are we? Don't worry, this'll sober you right up!" he shouted over the air flux, just as the lightning charge fired.

...

"Now, now. No need to hurl insults around. I see now my errors." Rem directed. He turned his head to Ellorei. "And you should too, we do not flaunt power because it is now ours, it is Gaia's." He gently scolded. The crew was indeed haggard by the recent events. It would seem that whatever happened had wrecked the caravan for the most part and left them without means to move. Poor venbu. "I feel for your situation. Being stranded out here without countermeasures is no fun task." Rem opened his stance to appear more negotiable and less aggressive. "We'll listen to what happened if you would be willing. Then we can figure something out." Rem stepped right through the door at Zay's behest.

The room was getting more claustrophobic with the addition of new people. Rem sat down on the floor against the wall, placing his staff against his shoulder. With a wave of his hand he beckoned Ell to come inside. "Myti aren't common around here. The fact that you encountered a hostile group of them is indeed unsettling."