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When the scene fades in from the blackness of before, we are treated to muffled screams and a close up shot over someone's shoulder as she takes aim with her bow. She is aiming at an ape currently in the middle of dragging away a screaming man holding a knife and taking wild swings at the thing. The camera rotates around, and we see you, Sparrow, let loose your arrow into the ape's flank, causing it to howl and drop the man in favor of cradling its new, seeping wound. Almost as soon as the camera returns to you, we see another ape drop from the trees onto you, throwing its club-like arms at your head with a trilling scream. If it gets a solid hold of you, you know the thing will rip off your arm and club you to death with it.

With a violent jerk of the camera, we see you, Avenue, holding your weapon of choice in hand and brandishing it at one of the large apes in the troop trying to drag away one of your flock to be eaten. Scatter is bleeding profusely from the head, and the ape is holding a large rock above its head, threatening to club your brains out with it. In the background, we see four more apes harassing members of your flock with sticks, rocks, teeth, and nails. Tum Tum, your right hand man, calls out, "PROVE YOUR STRENGTH IN HOPE, BRETHREN!"
We are right outside of your little... Chapel? Cult Hut? Whatever it is, describe it to us. Oh yeah, and tell us why the fuck the apes are trying to kill your flock.

Sparrow, why are you out by Avenue's place, why are you helping, and what are you going to do about this ape trying to violently push your brain out through your ears?


We cut to a new scene, in the heart of Steelbird Landing. We see a tent, erected by stitching together many tarps. We hear, briefly, the sound of a few gasps and yelps of alarm. There is a small crowd gathered near the front of a long bar, forming a circle around something interesting happening in its center. The crowd seems to have gone still for a moment. In the center of this circle, we see Pepsi.

You have a shattered bottle jammed deep into the neck of a bearded man named First. His hot blood is racing in rivulets down your arm, and his own fists are opening and closing uselessly as if desperately clinging to the life seeping out of his body while you hold him in a sort of perverse, macabre hug.

Pepsi, what happened here? What do we hear you whispering into First's ear? Why is the crowd starting to cheer when you finish talking?

Hemlock, we watch the camera slowly zoom into your face, and we watch you smile and pull yourself from the crowd as they begin to hoot and holler. We see the violation glove on your hand. What does it look like? What are you smiling about? How did you cause this? Why? Where are you going now?


Alcohol, we find you in your "office" where you do your official business. In your post, please tell us where that is and what it looks like inside. While you're at it, tell us about the report you're hearing from Twice about another monster sighting just outside of the walls last night, and what Coop is saying the thing did... and said.

Milk, you're going to give Alcohol a rough time of it. You're looking for Hemlock, and have a strong suspicion that Alcohol knows where Hemlock is right now. You need to know where Hemlock is, because she knows where Twix is at. You're especially angry about her disappearance today... tell us why. Oh, and also make sure to include what you're threatening Alcohol with to really put the screws to him.

Al was rubbing his temples, leaning his elbows on the wooden desk, sitting in a wooden chair. The floor was concrete, with some decent rugs scattered about to make it easier to walk on. There were a few windows, with no glass, but instead wooden shutters with curtains on the inside. All of them were currently closed. On the wall behind Al's desk was a painting of a quaint farm, peaceful and serene with easily managable shrubbery and amber waves of grain. There was also a poster, a very old poster made of the old materials, durable, plyable and shiny. On it was a picture of the Steelbird itself, the ancient airplane slumbering somewhere in the jungle, from which the town got it's name. A reminder of things that once were. Al had never had an opportunity to learn to read, but apparently the poster was marketing for an airport, where people used to ride airplanes and fly all over the world.

But here, in the ground floor of the mayor's office, Alcohol was dealing with much more grounded issues. At least, he would like to be, but apparently the boogie man himself was getting ready to bust in and make a mess.

"...so that would be the third this month an alleged monster was spotted outside of town." Twice finished.

"Right." Al grumbled, exasperated. "Dismissed." He waved a hand. Twice swallowed dryly. "That's not all." He spoke up after a brief moment of silence.

Al raised one eyebrow and made eye contact with Twice, expectantly.

"Apparently, according to Coop, this time it talked."

Al didn't seem to react. "It...talked." He slowly said.

Twice nodded.

The mayor raised his hands into the air and put his weight on the back of his chair. "Well. By all means, what did it say?"

Twice hesitated once again. "Harbinge, sir." Al nodded, wisely, as if this was all expected. "Harbinge?"

"Yeah," Twice nodded his head, "Just the word 'harbinge.' Over and over and over again. Allegedly. Apparantly. According to Coop." He distanced himself from the theory.

"Harbinge. Ain't even a real word."

"No, sir, I suspect not."

"That all?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Thanks. See you around, Twice." The messenger guard nodded and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. Al exhaled. Monsters. They talked, now, though they said no words. Coop was either crazy, or something terrible was about to happen. The mayor stood, and locked the door behind Twice with a wooden bar that clunked heavily on two pegs.

Then, he approached the map of Steelbird Landing. It was one of the only maps in a town. A similar map was in the headquarters of the police force. It was hand drawn, a rough representation of the different streets and districts of the town. N, S, E, and W, the letters Alcohol knew to represent the cardinal directions, were marked down as well. There was a little X on a square towards the eastern side of town, which repsented where the mayors office was. Towards the center of town, there was a symbol of a gun that represented where the police office was. A big, bold line surrounded the whole thing that represented the walls, that thinned at the northern and southern points into gates. Around the town, not fully pictured, were the farms of Steelbird that provided the towns food and a lot of jobs.

It was a beautiful town, really. It had it's issues, sure, but it was the best he'd seen. Alcohol might have had something to do with it, but really it was the hard working people of this town that kept everything running. People like Twice. People like Coop, even though he was delusional. Still, to dismiss the notion of encroaching "monsters" outright was to be foolish. Clearly something was happening out there, and perhaps Coop's monster sighting were a side effect of these events. Or, maybe, there was really a horrifice beast on the outside of town saying made up words. What a shitty time that would be, huh?

As his eyes scanned the town, he began thinking about what to do. The patrol was already thinner than he'd like. Could he really afford to have guards on monster patrol? Peeking over the walls at night with lights, hoping to catch a glimpse at some abomination? What if these rumors and sighting amounted to nothing? See the guards looking for monsters would only confirm the rumors in most people's minds. Panic might spread. But if they were true...what would happen then? So far, no guard had seen it, and only a few townspeople had claimed to have spotted it. No guard had spotted it, no one really trustworthy. Just people seeing things in the dark, acts of the maelstrom and drugs, perhaps. So many reasons for it to not be true.

Yet the seed of doubt remained. The primal part of all humans that feared the dark and the monsters that lurk within. The mayor could not allow fear to spread. If one of his guards corroborated these tales, than yes, he would act. Until then, the town's guard detail would continue to be the well-oiled machine it was today. Of all the things the Mayor had done, revamping the police was the thing he was perhaps most proud of. No longer were they the lazy, apathetic brutes of old who were just bullies in uniform. Now, they were loyalists, benefactors of the community who did fine work to help keep the town safe. It was important to get that right; the police were representatives of the law, and by extension, everything Alcohol believed in. The town had to like them, had to trust them, for this whole thing to work.

Alcohol turned and pulled open a wooden shutter. The sun poured in and his eyes adjusted to the bright outside lighting. The mayors office was on a slight hill, and it was a taller building than most, so he could see over the rooftops of many of the houses. He could see some people milling around, going about their business. And on the very edge, he could the walls, and beyond that, the mysterious jungle. Somewhere in that jungle there were monsters. Metaphorical monsters and perhaps literal monsters as well. Al couldn't tell which was worse, which one he would choose to deal with. The good news was he wouldn't have to choose; the choice was being made for him.

"Enough!"

The stern voice of Milk shouted over the flurry of many other voices of women. Her voice dusty and powerful but sweet like honey. The ladies were upset, and more urgently they were hungry for lunch. "I don't know why you keep covering for her Milk!" the voice of Bubblegum came, she had very recently joined the group- a young blonde, fair skinned and could not be but a couple years into her teens. Milk reached out and placed a hand on the slender shoulder of Gum. "I know you all are upset.." she started, giving a gentle squeeze, "However you know how I feel about this, we work together as one. Separated we are nothing, together we are strong." a few of the older women nodded. "I will feed you all once I have a few answers, we must find Twix and we must do it before night fall or she will be dead, and so will we." a wail came from the group as another young member approached to Milk.

She pulled the teen into her chest as she pet the hair of the young girl. The girl sobbed, her nose sniffling between her shallow breaths. Furrowed eyebrows became relaxed upon Milk's face as she placed her hand under the girl's chin and gently lifted it up, "Rolo, my sweet girl what happened? Why do you cry so loudly, when you should be singing to me?" a smile formed on Milk's lips as she used her thumb to wipe the stream line of tears.

"I saw Twix leave with Hemlock earlier this morning, and I said nothing. I thought it was a dream!" the girl spewed out.

Leaning forward slightly, her bare heel raising off the ground, Milk kissed the soft freckled forehead of the tall brunette that was called Rolo. "Please do not cry, I am not angry. I just want us to all be together. Thank you for being honest with me." she released Rolo as she stepped back slightly. All the women were so beautiful, their body types as varied as their skin tones, their expressions full of life and hope. "Let us get some food, shall we?"

The group parted as Milk walked through the gang, her dreaded bright hair swinging to and fro across her back as she made her way to their kitchen. Milk's home was always overcrowded, but to most this was a comfort. The house had only two bedrooms- once in which Milk slept, and one that was saved for ceremonial births. The women slept in every corner of the main room that was littered with comfortable furniture ranging from pillows to entire mattresses. This was a safe place for the women, men were not allowed to sleep here, unless specified by Milk herself- which rarely ever happened. Most of them would only be here for awhile, some would be here their whole lives.

Opening a basket, Milk peered in to see that their daily rice supply had been cooked but was dwindling. She placed it on a counter, before squatting down and pulling out an unmarked plastic liter bottle from a lower cabinet. It was filled with a dark, sweet liquid that had been seasoned heavily and had almost a putrid odor if directly inhaled. Milk lifted the bottle and peered through it, as she swirled it around. "Hmm." she pondered, as she opened the bottle and poured a little over half of the bottle into a wooden bowl. Sparrow hadn't come home in awhile, so fresh meat was not on the menu this afternoon.

Milk would never eat before all of her women, so she nodded to them as they came forward in line. This was procedure by now, as they took turns scooping out a handful of rice. They would then if they so choose dip their ball of rice in the mixture, the liquid soaking up into the white grain turning it a dull brown. Thank you and other polite messages were echoed across the board as they ate up the light, but filling lunch. "Feel free to have more if you need it, but do not be greedy." she mentioned, as she took the rest of the liquid from the bottle and drank it straight. It almost came back up but she swallowed the acidic liquid down, her pink lips stained from the mixture. The back of her hand served as a napkin as she placed the empty bottle back on the counter.

"Fill that when you can, I have to speak to Alcohol. I will be back soon."

Alcohol's home sat on top of the hill, and if you were to ask; to Milk it would be make a far better home for her than the one she currently resided in. As she made her way through the small village and eventually the hill she adjusted the cloth that wrapped around her voluptuous body. Along the way a flat stone on the road caught her eye. She decided to pick it up, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger as her doe eyes kept alert and active. By the time she reached closer to the top of the hill, the sun beat hard on her decorated back. The shutters of the house Alcohol lived in opened slightly as she rounded the corner.

"Alcohol!" she yelled, her voice once again displaying the mix of sweet and spice.

Her fingers gripped around the rock tighter as she finally reached his door, using the stone to pound a heavy SEVEN times. "We need to talk Al!" she continued, her tone impatient from the hike she had to take to get here. If the women had said that Hemlock had been a part of this, then it had to be so. Alcohol had eyes on the entire city he ran, he saw every fly that landed on every shit that was taken. "I know you are here Alcohol, I saw you peeking at me when I came up the hill. If you enjoyed the show so much, you should have been taking this hike down to me instead. You know where I sleep Al. At least it wouldn't be too hard to convince everyone that you do." she taunted from outside.

Milk leaned against the door frame, rock in hand as she sat waiting for Al to answer his door.

"You are weak," Pepsi snarled into the dying man's ear. "And you are dying because you are weak." He twisted the bottle into First's neck, causing him to gurgle up blood. His eyes were full of terror and animal incomprehension - pathetic. Even in the end, he did not see.

It had been simplicity itself to slay him, this self-proclaimed 'toughest bastard in Steelbird Landing'. Not ten minutes after word of the guard's drunken boast reached his ear, Pepsi had burst into his tent and dragged him outside, kicking and screaming like a newborn child. He swung the bottle clutched in his hand only once, his blow sailing past his assailant, before Pepsi grabbed the bottle from his grasp, shattered it against his skull and drove the jagged edge into his throat. This was the Way of Steelbird Landing, then. Relying on a drunken sot for protection.

Pepsi shoved the dying man to the ground, releasing his grip on the bottle and leaving it embedded in First's neck. The blood was running down his hand and arm, and he wiped it across his face, leaving a red streak across his features, turning to the crowd with his teeth bared. "Pathetic," he shouted, fingering the shard of green glass around his neck. "Look upon the fate of your protector, murdered like a shrieking babe in his tent, drinking while he was meant to be keeping watch. Is this your Way, people? Is this your strength?"

First was crawling away from him, blood pouring out as he fumbled for the bottle still embedded in his flesh. Pepsi kicked him onto his back with one blow and planted a foot on his chest. "I slew this man because his Way was weak, and mine is strong. Because he has failed you with his cowardice and foolishness, his boasting, his drunken pawing at your women. I cut his heart from his chest now," he said, pulling the shard of glass from his neck, "And in so doing, I make you strong. Your children will not be torn apart by monsters while he sleeps. Your fellows will not be murdered while he drinks. I squeeze this weak Way from you like pus from a wound!"

He knew his words would find an audience. First was not beloved among his town, even if he had been granted a position as guard for his marksmanship, size and pugnacity, and there was nobody less popular in those days than a guard caught shirking his duties. He knew these people would be seduced by his Way, the Way of Plaza, in the end. That was what made it The Way. Perhaps he would be driven away for this action, but people would remember. And when his fellows arrived, they would see.

The body had gone still. Pepsi loomed over it, the hard green glass of Plaza clutched in his hand, and crouched down. He raised it over his head and plunged it down, spraying blood across his face, and the crowd cheered.

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People, people everywhere. Hemlock hated crowds, she despised the cluster of skin, the heat that emanated from their presence, sticking hungrily to her. Just the thought made the young woman groan, rubbing absentmindedly at her bare arms as she continued forward. She could see people going about their day, minding their business, completely unaware of the events that would soon unfold, commanding their eyes to stare, their bodies to shift and swarm like a pack of malnourished wolves. But for now, all that stood before her was a tent, the mouth of the cloth hut drawn shut to conceal whoever was within. Without second thought, feet would push on, a glove clad hand swiping the tarp that covered the entrance, to the side. Within the tent was a man, his name unknown and entirely irrelevant to Hemlock. He was disposable, his life merely a chess piece within this grand game of life. The Maelstrom had given Hemlock specific directions, whispering the details of a very intricate plan, right into her eager ears. The girl stood before the man, his face twisting and contorting in confusion. He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by Hemlocks own voice.

"Don't speak, I do not wish to hear your words man, listen and you will benefit from this interaction." She spoke smoothly, her voice clear, stern and backed by so much power. She stepped forward every so slightly, eyes of vibrant emerald scanned the man, their glare cold, unfeeling.

"A man will be coming here soon, he seeks destruction, he believes you are a small, worthless man. He will confront you, fight you, you will not fight back and he will not stop until you bleed every last drop of your blood.." Her voice continued on, each word bringing her figure closer to the man who sat bewildered. Her glove clad hand would rise once she was within reaching distance, placed gently upon First's cheek. The man's eyes grew once Hemlock had finished speaking, her bare hand would find its place on the opposite side of his head and a series of words would spew from the woman's mouth. Most were inaudible, likely another language. The glove, known as the Violation Glove, would come to life, three circular portions glowing, a mechanical whir purring from the once silent device. Hemlock continued the chant that fell so effortlessly from her lips, the mans head fixed between her hands, hindering his ability to move. The power that the glove held was dark, its depths unknown, its abilities foreign. Hemlock knew little of what she was doing, following orders like a bewitched soldier, her faith in The Maelstrom, something that was nearly impossible to sever.

As soon as the chanting had started, it ended. The man sat with his eyes shut for a long while, his body slumped where he had previously been sitting. Hemlock wasted no time in waiting, slinking from the tent and into the streets. She would stay near, awaiting the arrival of another by the name of Pepsi. The Maelstrom spoke of him often, his dark intent, his appetite for blood. The Maelstrom's plan was difficult to understand, why this man, First, had to die was not something Hemlock would question however. It wasn't long before the anticipated man would present himself, bursting into the tent without second thought. One could hear gruff voices clashing, a shriek and then the image of Pepsi, dragging First out like an animal dragging his prey. First appeared terrified but did not fight back as Hemlock had instructed, the glove aiding her in putting First in this bewitched state. A crowd would soon gather as Pepsi continued his assault, tossing First around like a rag doll. Hemlock slithered in among the people, finding her place near the front, eyeing the scene, awaiting its finale to confirm her job had been done.

It wasn't long before First had gone still, his prior movements ceasing once and for all. Just as instructed, First had allowed his death, allowed his blood to seep from his body by the hand of Pepsi. The finale would come as expected, a rabid Pepsi plunging the bottle that had been used to slice away at First, deep into his motionless body once more. The force of the blow would send blood spraying, like rain, it would speckle every surface, beads of crimson misting Hemlock's pale skin. She grinned a grin so devilish, so entirely content with herself and the success of her "mission" from The Maelstrom. She would linger no more, pulling the red hood of her cloak over her head before dismissing herself from the scene. Now she would be required to return to her home and perform a ritual, informing The Maelstrom of her triumphant endeavor.
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This trip was a mistake. Sparrow had never ventured past the small cliff that marked the edge of what she referred to as the Earth Mother’s hunting ground because she knew that the apes lived not far past it. They were an entirely different beast compared to hunting a jaguar or deer. Normally, Sparrow may have even taken the chance of running into an ape because the likelihood of them spotting her was slim to none.

But this? This chaos that ran its course in front of her very eyes? These were not the odds she’d wanted. Following Avenue and his goons had been a mistake from the start. They were anything but stealthy. Sparrow would’ve bet her entire shop and inventory that the apes had been aware of their presence the moment they’d stepped foot in the jungle. The only reason that the apes had seen her was because she’d had to intervene so that it wasn’t a damn massacre. Sure, Avenue and company had held their own for a bit, but the apes didn’t show any sign of stopping. It would go against her moral compass to stay back and watch.

Now, Sparrow sat in the trees and launched arrow after broadhead-tipped arrow at the gigantic beasts, the cries of Avenue’s men echoing through the forest. The practiced archer was fluid in her movements, the arrows barely making a whisper as the traditional wooden recurve bow whipped them through the air. In fact, had she not called out to Avenue she still may have sat hidden in the tree.

It was not to last.

Sparrow let out a cry as the ape dropped down onto her. The beast hit her across the head only once before she reacted, spots briefly flying across her vision. With reflexes like lightning, she grabbed one of the blades strapped under her arm and balanced on the think tree branch carefully. She held out the blade in front of her, keeping the ape at a distance while she planned her next move. Sparrow could feel the small gash on her forehead where the ape had hit her, but though it stung, the huntress had to focus on the matter at hand.

“You doin’ alright Avenue?!” she called out, her eyes never leaving the beast in front of her.

Avenue gnawed at his left hand, tapping the ground with the warm branding iron in his right. From his throat spills a rumbling keening sound that resounds in the gut and pierces the eardrums. The wounded cultists around him rally to the sound of Tum Tum, swarming over the ape facing Avenue like small children over their mother. It dropped the rock, focusing on picking the pests off.

He heard Sparrow, pausing his keening to reply. ”Yesss, Sparrow. Bow Bird. Birdyyy Bird biiiiiii-”. Halfway through saying bird for the last time, he turned it into the worming drone from before.

This wasn’t the first time Avenue and his cult had fought these apes. They guarded the precious moss which was used in the production of Dap, the stimulant which the cult seemed to be so fond of. Never had they seen them so vicious or in such a great number, though. A good thing Sparrow showed up.

Apparently they still had it in them. The ferocious creature had fallen to the scrubs, and with a last, deafening roar, it bit a leg off one of the cultists, and hurled it straight at Avenue, who spread his arms in an embrace. They went down in a shower of blood from the stump. Moments later, the cultist was scrambling across the jungle floor, foaming blood at the mouth, but determined to reach the next ape.

When Avenue hit the ground, his vision swam. His back arched, his chest heaved, and his hands clenched, but in the face of this, he stood. Step by shaky step, he walked towards Sparrow. His knee buckled, and he fell. His shoulder slammed into something hard. He looked up: the chapel.

Sparrow threw herself at the ape in a dive, planting the blade of her dagger into its chest. The ape let out a deafening roar before it clawed at her back, but Sparrow was pushed tight against the beast, her legs wrapped around it’s waist as she stabbed the ape over and over. Her heart pounded against the walls of her chest as the beast finally lay still beneath her. The young woman stood on the branch and grabbed her bow before she dropped to the forest floor.

With a practiced hand, Sparrow drew an arrow and launched it from her recurve bow in one swift movement, letting out a whispered prayer to the Earth Mother as she did “Forgive me mother, for the slaughter of your spawn. Know I only do this for my own preservation.” The arrow flew true and impaled itself into the leg of one of the apes just as it was about to tackle a cultist. With a cry, the ape fell to the jungle floor and Sparrow left no time for it to recover.

Sparrow grabbed an arrow from her quiver and retrieved a small vial from her belt, quickly pouring a portion of its contents onto the arrow’s point. Then, she nocked the projectile onto the bowstring and took aim at the downed ape. “Mother, guide my arrow and let this beast suffer no more.” She drew the string back to full draw and let the arrow fly, watching as it buried itself into the apes neck. Sparrow whispered a gentle thank you and closed her eyes for a single moment.

Another mistake.

Sparrow felt the wind leave her lungs as she was thrown from her feet, the full powered swing of an ape landing square in her side. She crashed against the trunk of a huge tree and slumped against the ground. The next moments were oddly silent. Her heartbeat was deafening and yet silent at the same time in her ears. Her vision was blurry as she slowly came back from the brief blackout. Pain was surging through her back. Why did she ever follow Avenue out here?

The thick sandstone wall was cold against Avenue’s flank. He rubbed his eyes to rid them of spots. He took a moment to survey how the fight was going: two apes were left. There was the one that Sparrow had shot in the leg, and the one who had just launched her. The remaining five functional cultists were surging towards the second ape, ready to pull it down. Three others were lying motionless, and another two were scrambling across the ground with injuries that would incapacitate most people. They didn’t have much longer left.

Avenue pushed off the wall. Taking a moment to get some air in his lungs was a good idea. He staggered over to the ape who had been shot in the leg, dragging his branding iron along the ground behind him. The iron was not like other irons: long and wickedly sharp, with a vicious hook on the end. This is what he raised into the air, and brought down into the hamstrings of the ape. Fists flew and the beast squirmed. Fatigue and pain had marred the ape’s judgement though, and evading them was easy.

The ape that had knocked Sparrow to the ground had just noticed the cultists, and, deeming them the bigger threat, charged straight into their group, sending a few flying. A roar, a laugh. Something sprayed blood over the ground. One of the cultists slammed into the ground a few meters from Sparrow. Blood was spurting from a wound in their shoulder. Bone was poking through cloth. But they got back up, and ran back into the fray. The ape was not going down by the cultists’ hands any time soon.

Avenue started keening again. It was higher pitched this time, cutting right through the cacophony of battle. When the beast had settled again, Avenue took another swing, this time at its deltoid. The sharp, heavy steel easily settled into flesh. Avenue’s keening grew higher in pitch, and he was walking around with a visible bounce in his step. He cut through the back muscles and the bicep, and then there was only one arm left that could move. So next, Avenue cut that up, arm rising and falling, iron spraying blood, beast howling, and Avenue keening. He walked over to the head of the ape. ”My sweet beastie, oh how you make good fun.”, he cooed, looking the ape in its desperate eyes. It strained and flexed, but it couldn’t move to get the object of its hate. He touched the ape on either side of the head, speaking softly to it.

Sparrow gave a quiet groan as she pushed herself up from the ground. The young woman took deep breaths as she watched the cultists try (insert fail) to kill the remaining two apes, still recovering from having the wind knocked from her lungs. As she went to stand, Sparrow grabbed her bow from the blood covered forest floor and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She looked over to see Avenue strike one of the apes numerous times, each hit causing Sparrow to flinch. Enough was enough. She paced quietly around the scene, nocking an arrow to her bow’s string before drawing it back. As she let it fly, Sparrow whispered a few words.

“To end your suffering.”

The arrow impaled itself directly into the apes carotid artery, causing a large squirt of blood to fly out as the life faded from the beast’s eyes. Sparrow took in a breath and lowered her bow, slipping it over her torso to free her hands. Though it may have been a battle, a huntress like herself could not let this meat go to waste. Sparrow pulled one of her daggers from its sheath on her torso before approaching one of the fallen apes. As she began to cut into its flesh, she looked to Avenue and spoke with a stern voice.

“Though they are our opponents, they need not suffer. The animals only act in defense. Your men are reckless and should not have entered this jungle. Why are you here?”

The spurt of blood hit Avenue square in the face. He looked up at Sparrow, and frowned, sorrow drawing lines on his face. "O little Bird. You know nothing. To suffer is- to suffer is to grow. And... well, what is a life without- without growth?" he asked. He felt the warm blood trickle to the corner of his eye, but didn't stop staring at Sparrow to wipe it away.

“Me? Why I’m here?” he chuckled, “Well. Fact- as a matter of fact, these lands are belong- belonging to Hope, and she has given us leave to wander them as we choose. My mind wound wonder why a Bird like you: frail and delicate, would be here. Be here. Be here,” he stuttered. His blinking became faster and harder as he talked, apparently finding words to be difficult. “Not that we’re complaining. You may not be of Hope, but we can’t deny that you were of service to her- her cause today.”

“These lands, all lands, belong to the Earth Mother. She gives us food and water, in return we respect her creations. We do not let them suffer, suffering is misery and nothing more. Suffering is not growth, it is not good.” Sparrow continued to cut away slabs of meat, stuffing them into the leather pouch that hung from her shoulder. “What happened here, this was unnecessary. I will kill your men before I see them start another slaughter like this. This accomplished nothing.” Her words were cold and venomous towards him.

Sparrow moved and began to skin the hide from the ape’s body, the black shiny pelt coming free from the muscle below it effortlessly. Her practiced hand moved without thought like she’d done hundreds of times before. Sparing only one other moment for Avenue, she looked to him once more and spoke coldly “You ventured through my hunting grounds as you walked. Your men scared everything away. That, and only that, is why I followed you. Tread lightly on these grounds or this little bird will put an arrow in your back without hesitation.” She finished skinning the one ape before standing right up to Avenue, her tiny frame dwarfed by his.

“You can call me delicate all you like. The only reason you’re still standing here is because of me.”

Alcohol narrowed his eyes as Milk approached. She was sure being brazen about her approach. What did she want? He closed the window and approached the door a few moments after she knocked and opened it. What she was saying was a little hard to make out though the walls, but Alcohol got the gist. He wondered if the threat of rumor was genuine. The door swung open and the sun lit up his frame, casting a stark silhouette on the floor behind him.

"Can I help you?" He asked dryly.

As Alcohol came into view Milk smirked, the corner of her lips mischievous as ever. "Took you long enough.!" she cooed, as she handed him the rock that she had picked up. "Here is a present. Now that I have given you something, you should give something to me." she tapped the side of her chin with her finger, before speaking again, "I need to know where Hemlock is, have you seen her?" Milk asked, her foot stepping forward slightly to perhaps be let into his home.

He glanced down at the rock, giving a cynical chuckle. Alcohol stepped aside. "Come into my office, we'll talk in there." He grabbed a chair leaning against the wall and moved it for Milk to sit in. Then he sat on his chair on the other side of the desk. He considered her question. Hemlock. Yeah, someone he knew probably knew where she was. It's not like she was hard to miss. Still, he couldn't just give out information like that.

"Why do you wanna know?" He asked, setting the stone down on his desk.

Milk sat in the chair Alcohol offered her, her ankles crossing beneath her delicately. She smiled when he placed the stone down on his desk, perhaps he would keep it for awhile? "I need her help." Milk admitted. There was no reason for her to lie. There weren't any devious contexts about the situation they had found themselves in. Milk rested her hands onto her thighs before continuing once more, "Hemlock knows where my friend is, and I need to talk to her. That's it Al, no harm done." her lips pouted slightly as her eyes widened for mercy. She hoped that Alcohol was in a good mood today so that more strings would not have to be pulled. She was already exhausted, and knew that the trouble for the day had really just begun.

Alcohol drummed his fingers for a brief moment, thinking. Obviously, there were limits to telling everybody who came in here where someone was. Generally, he liked to keep his so called "intelligence network" limited to things like missing persons and threats to the town. Personal favors like this were another thing entirely. Especially since, in this case, something was off.

"Just ask her. If Hemlock wanted to help you, she would, right?"

Milk adjusted in her seat, her ankles uncrossing as she leaned forward slightly. "Well." the woman started, her finger digging slightly into the skin of her thigh, "Well, yes she would. However, I don't know WHERE Hemlock is, and that is why I am asking you, because you are the right person to ask." the woman cocked her head slightly as she looked into Alcohol's eyes, her gaze steady before she parted her lips once more, "If you don't think you can help me, by all means just tell me now. I don't want to waste my time, but it's dire to this community that you give me Hem's location. If my friend gets hurt, there is going to be a lot of problems coming." Milk taunted, a small grin forming- her teeth showing ever so slightly. "I don't want any trouble Al, you know I don't want any trouble." she claimed, as she moved her left leg to cross over her right leg to expose a decent amount of thigh.

Al nodded. "Right. You think this person, your friend, whoever they are, are in danger. They might be missing or lost. We can start looking for them. When we find them, we can take them into protective custody, if you'd like. Unless," He averted his gaze, looking down at his desk. He leaned forward onto his desk and laced his fingers together, then he looked back up at Milk. "You think Hemlock is somehow responsible for this persons absence? Because, unless you think someone's life is really in danger, I don't think we can help you." He laying out the rules. What if Milk just wanted to smash Hemlock's face in with a rock? The fact that she was asking for information on Hemlock, and not the as-of-yet unamed missing person was suspicious to the mayor.

Placing her face in the palm of her hand, Milk could do nothing at first but shake her head. Alcohol was unwavering, he was solid. He was hard, but NOT the kind Milk had dealt with so many times before. "No, no. I don't want any of this!" she spoke, feeling a sense of defeat. She removed her head from her palm as she leaned forward and placed a hand warmly on top of Alcohol's intertwined fingers. "I just want my friend home safe, she means a lot to me. I'm sorry for causing a scene. I just thought you.." Milk slipped her hand away slowly, her eyes falling to the floor. "I just thought you'd be different." she finalized her words before raising herself up and out of the chair. "Thanks Al." she cooed, beginning to turn from the desk where he sat.

Alcohol blinked at the hand contact. What was she playing at? Was there some layer he was missing? Still, he knew what he should say, so he did. "Sorry, Milk. If you're friend wants to go somewhere without telling you, they can. I can't make exceptions just because you're my friend. Soon as I start making exceptions..." He let the sentence hang, shrugging.

"If you think this person is in danger from someone, just let an officer know, okay?" His tone softened a bit, though even Alcohol couldn't tell if it was genuine or condescending.

"I will." she said with a nod, and a slight wave of hand. Alcohol was invincible. Milk would have to find Hemlock herself, or leave Twix to rot. Milk walked out of the office, closing the door behind her, Alcohol watching her as she went. Milk used the height of the hill for an advantage for only a moment- her hand reaching up to her brow to cover her eyes from the high light that radiated towards her. The people looked like ants from here, and Milk was ever so sweet. Her adventure would continue as she made her way back down the hill to try to find Hemlock, so that she could eventually find and scold Twix.

Now alone in his office, the Mayor reached and took the rook in his hands, contemplating it. It was a rock, most likely a joke. Once again he opened up the window, looking out at the town. Casually he dropped the rock on the outside, watching it tumble a bit. He saw Milk's form walking away to do whatever she was going to do. An interesting person, to be sure. He hoped it worked out for her, because he doubted her intentions were malicious. Principle, however, was important. Especially to a figure of authority, who's entire existence was built on consistency and principles. After reassuring himself of his decision he closed the window to the outside world and was left to his thoughts once again.

---

---

Well this has become something of a testy situation, hasn't it? The representatives of two different gods having something of a minor confrontation....

Tum Tum puts a hand on your shoulder, Avenue, in a pleading gesture. "Avenue, master, our people are badly injured and need healing. Shasta, Lemmy, and III are dead. We must tend to these needs. Let this nonbeliever wander back to where she belongs. Can we not deal with her another time?"


Tum Tum is wide, with a stocky build and something of a gut. You're not entirely certain how he manages to be heavy set in a world like this. Key thinks he's eating the dead, and that it is giving him power.

Speaking of Key, that's who speaks up next. She's got a black eye and she's nursing a pretty bad bite wound on her hand. She might have lost a finger, even. "This is why we need to bring Hope to the world... So mongrels like these Apes can learn to fear her power, and unbelievers like this can know their place." She spits on the ground while you watch. Despite the fight, Key is probably the cleanest in your group. She habitually bathes in the river, a practice some of your people frown upon as making her weak, but she insists it is right to present herself as a clean and sweet offering before Hope at all times.



Sparrow, you're in a bit of a spot right now. These guys are injured, sure, but they outnumber you by quite a lot and they're still full of adrenaline. I don't think you need me to tell you that this is not an advantageous position for you. Figure out where you're going and tell me why.


Pepsi, as you're enjoying the cheers, you see a few guys go running off, yelling for the town guards and looking spooked. At least one is headed for Alcohol's place. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

The guy at the bar, Twice, doesn't seem to pleased with you, either. "Hey, Pepsi, can you drag his ass outside or something? It's gonna stink and I don't need Alcohol's guys sniffin' around here." It's something of an open secret that Twice sells more than just booze out of his little tent, as evidenced by the occasional patron quietly tweaking out in a corner and the somewhat regular visits from Avenue's people.

Perhaps the most concerning, you get a glimpse of Hemlock as she's headed away.

What do you do?


Show us the ritual you're performing, and Open Your Brain. PM me when you're at that point and I'll feed you what you see.


Oh boy. You're having something of a busy morning. It hasn't even been 5 minutes since Milk left that you see one of your guys, Nickles, come barging through your door.
"Al! Something's happened! That big guy from Plaza... he fuckin' killed First! Stabbed him to death with a broken bottle and then bragged about it to the crowd. He's down at Twice's place. Some of the other guys are trying to get a few men to see if we can get him under arrest."

Alcohol, this is probably some bad fuckin' news for you. What are you gonna do about it?


Milk, you've not been down long before you see one of the cops sprint past you in a rush, and you see a crowd starting to disperse around Twice's place. It looks like some crazy shit just went down, but you're too far to make out exactly what happened.

You know more or less the area where Hemlock lives, but that doesn't guarantee she'll be there. She tends to wander like the crazy bitch she is. What are you gonna do?

Plaza. Another straw to layer onto the already structually compromised camels back. And now, First was dead. A cop, one of the people meant to protect this city all because Alcohol let this big guy from Plaza into town. Al stood. "Get two units to go to the armory at the station. You need to lead me to this fucker." As he spoke, the mayor knelt down and pulled up a loose floorboard. Nestled in the a hole in the dirt was a footlocker. Unlocked, he flipped bent and rusted pre-war container open and inside was one of the most high-quality shotguns in town. Alcohol could most certainly handle himself in a gun fight, and this pump-action beauty was durable and well-maintained over the years.

Nickles most likely had an improvised handgun or rifle. The mayor followed the guard into the streets, where they quickly and effeciently navigated toward the scene of the incident. People would recognize a situation was developing when the mayor had his shotgun out. This was no ordinary arrest. This person was an ambassador of sorts. This was more of a diplomatic incident than anything. If he was to be honest, First in particular would not be missed, but he imagined it could have been anyone. Murder like this could not stand, obviously, but there were greater implications. Al had to handle this situation carefully.

They cut through a narrow alleyway and the two men burst onto the scene. Several other guards were arriving, all of them armed with an improvised firearm. Still, bullets were bullets. Most of the road was empty, with a few people mordibly watching from behind cover as the man from Plaza had begun tearing into the flesh of First with a broken bottle.

"That's enough!" Alcohol shouted, leveling his shotgun at the man. As they had trained, a guard or two would circle behind Pepsi, most likely climbing to a rooftop. One of the guards would try to get ontop of the building Pepsi and First had been in earlier, for sure.

"Toss that bottle to the side, get your hands in the air, and on your knees to the dirt." Alcohol declared, his voice loud but steady. His finger was behind the trigger of the shotgun, the ironsights lining up with Pepsi's wide center of mass.

"Don't test me, boy." He concluded firmly, narrowing his eyes. The mayor took a few steps forward, beginning him and his guards slow approach to try and take the outsider alive.

Avenue stared Sparrow in the eye as she spoke her bold words. "Hope has more hands here. These lands belong to- belong to Hope." was all he said. He scraped his iron on the ground a little, and looked softly at it. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Tum Tum had just told him of how pyrrhic their victory was. He regarded the cluster of people gazing curiously at their wounds, then said "Heal them all, they're not- not cowering.". He swayed over to Sparrow, set himself on the other side of the gorilla from her, crouched, and breathed in deep. He licked his lips, and allowed his mouth to go ajar. "Stop stealing my fuck-ing food or we may just find some real use for you.", he spat. His breath would make you gag.

He walked over to Key, who he kicked in the side. He helped her to her feet, then walked her inside the large sandstone chapel, sitting her on a fur under a boarded up window that used to have stained glass in it. "We know you want Hope to enter- enter this world, Key. So stop- stop," he paused, blinking hard, "whining about it, and do it yourself. Anyway, today will see a good many- many of us grow stronger. Stronger. A lot stronger," he said. He walked outside to the wounded, and helped the chirurgeons distribute poultices and bandages. He specialised in inflicting harm, not treating it, so he took the backseat when medical attention was needed.

You should’ve let him die… Sparrow thought to herself, her eyes glaring daggers into Avenue’s back. He hadn’t changed one bit since the night he ran off with Milk’s child. Still a coward, still heartless. From now on she would do no more for him. “Really? After I saved you from these beasts, that’s what you have to say? I risk my own life so that you and your people may continue to live yours, but you disallow me to sustain my own life and feed my family? Let me remind you, I had little choice but to follow you because you and your men prevented me from gathering food.”

Sparrow reached down and grabbed the meat-filled leather pouch before she sheathed her blade, watching as Avenue walked into the church. She shook her head before pulling up her hood and running back into the forest, her feet making little noise as she carefully placed each step. The still bloody ape pelt was draped over her entire back, fur side in as to not soak her clothing anymore. The young woman was headed back towards the Mother’s hunting grounds which were just north of Steelbird Landing. She’d wanted to check a few snares that she’d laid in the days before. Maybe, just maybe Milk could have something other than rice or ape meat this evening.

She didn’t even have to stop her jog to see that the first snare was empty, but fortunately the second and third gave better results. Two rabbits, rather plump ones nonetheless, were caught in the wire she’d laid down. With a quick motion, she snapped their necks and hung them from her pack. Sparrow would skin and clean them when she arrived home.

Not long after, Steelbird landing finally came into view. Home at last. With a nod to the few guards standing by the gate, Sparrow entered into the fine city that she called home. She’d walked this route a thousand times; A left here, walk past the man she bought her daggers from, a quick right and then left again, and finally Milk’s place appeared from amongst the endless rows of homes.

Sparrow walked inside and glanced around the room, greeting the women that were present with a calm voice. “Good afternoon ladies, I come to bring you fresh meat from the jungle. Where might I find Milk?” She nodded as a few of them responded, before letting her pack and the leather pouch fall from her shoulder. “Ape and rabbit today, no deer unfortunately. You have Avenue to thank for that.” And with that remark, Sparrow went about cleaning and preparing the raw meat so that it could be cooked later.

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"One, two, three, four, five, six—" Everything had gone as planned, Hemlock had used the glove appropriately, she had followed The Maelstroms instructions and had hopefully made The Maelstrom proud.. "Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven..." Her shack, this was her next destination. However, before she got there she would stop by the small, natural stream nearby. Her shack would sit snugly within the forest, the outskirts of town, an area not many ventured into. The red hooded girl slipped through the town, her pace quick, set on getting where she needed without interruption. "Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.." It wouldn't be long before gravel turned to soil, buildings turning to foliage. Hemlock scurried through the forest, checking trees for engraved "X's" that she had left long ago to find her way back and forth. Finally, the light trickle of the stream would catch her attention, the glistening of the water gleaming through the branches and brush before her. Hemlock would strip from her shift, hanging the cloak on a nearby branch before ridding her body of the rest of its garments. Now nude, she would step into the frigid water, kneeling so that it lapped at her waist. Her hands would cup, gingerly splashing the clear water across her form, palms scrubbing away at the loose dirt and blood that had speckled her skin. Content with the brief surface cleansing, Hemlock would rise to return to her cloak where she would retrieve a small pouch that held a handful of orange peels, a jar of ground salt, and a small vile of lavender oil. She had traded her poisons and hallucinogens for the salt and orange peels, the lavender oil something she had created herself. Gathering the items, Hemlock would find her spot in the water once more, pouring a small mound of salt onto her palm followed by a drop of lavender oil and an orange peel. This mixture would be rubbed against every portion of her skin, the roughness of the salt scratching away at any grim the water couldn't take off. She had to be pure for The Maelstrom, that meant striping her skin of any filth that had gathered throughout the day.

It wasn't long before her skin was spotless, a red hue left behind from the intense scrubbing that had occurred. Her hair was next, a similar routine following before she was able to step out of the water. The items used for cleansing were then left by her cloak as she made her way towards her shack that sat only a few feet nearby. Clothes were unnecessary for the ritual, she was at her purist form when she was nude, vulnerable to The Maelstrom. Hemlock entered her shack, rummaging through a bin that held various items. She grasped a blade, its surface blackened, charred as if it had been caressed by a flame, over and over again. This, a candle, and another small pouch were the only items she needed, her body finding a place knelt in the center of the shack. The candle would come to life with the use of two stones, a spark lighting a piece of paper aflame, the paper used to light the wick. As the flame licked hungrily at the air, Hemlock began to speak, the same language she had muttered to the man when she wore the glove. The blade she held dipped into the fire, the metal heating, turning a bright vermilion color before it was withdrawn from the smoldering heat, used to rid the blade of potential infectious bacteria. Hemlock placed the scorching metal against her palm, slicing at the skin of her right hand before doing the same to the left. The blade clattered to the floor, her hands fumbling to pull out a sprig of salvia divinorum, which was then placed in her mouth and chewed. The sprig was a psychoactive, used to achieve an altered state of consciousness, perfect for contacting The Maelstrom and opening her mind...
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Hemlock's eyes open with abruptness, darting around the room as she attempted to regather her thoughts. Crimson trickled down her forearms and across her bare thighs, the slits in her palms the faucet. Hemlock's skin shifted to a ghastly hue, she appeared sickly, drained from what she had just seen and the loss of blood. Her chest heaved rapidly, perspiration beading over her forehead and breasts. It only took a short moment before her composure was recollected, her body shifting to stand on legs of jello. She stumbled towards a desk, clumsily fumbling to open a drawer to retrieve bandages. Before the wounds were cleansed and covered, her hands would shakily rise to her face, pressing against her skin to smear the blood from her hairline to her jaw.

"Thank you Maelstrom.."

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Hips swayed to and fro as Milk had made her way down the hill from Alcohol's residence, a unfamiliar tune humming against her lips. She was not happy about Alcohol's answers, or rather lack there of. Who did he think he was? Not but a few minutes into her hike down a man rushed past her, nearly knocking her petite body over as he went. "Asshole." she huffed under her breath. It wasn't long after until the crowding and various noises could come into view. More men flew past her, including Alcohol.

A show? How wonderful!

Gallivanting over to the scene for just a moment, Milk watched the men yell and threaten to spill blood. A grin formed on her lips, she loved a good performance. Men were curious creatures like that. They often fought and fought, and then after the fight they would be brothers in arms. It was different with women, they would look into one another's eyes and say how glad they were to see them and then poison their offerings. Milk cleared her dry throat, her voice coming from the crowd- "First could not protect himself let alone US, he showed us his WORTH!" few others agreed, while some thought the opposite, sneering and pushing Milk in distaste.

She spit on them, directly. "Touch me again and you won't survive the night." she threatened before excusing herself. These men had small counterparts, and they were not worthy of her time let alone her strength. Milk in general did not have time for these small events, it would only make a good story for the women later. Her goal was still Hemlock, and Hemlock was still her goal.

Milk made her way through town and eventually past town to an area where she knew Hemlock to lay her head at night, or so she guessed as did her women. Along the way she gathered two flat stones, and a small delicate green clover along the path as an offering for friendship before she would come on strongly about Twix's whereabouts. Along the travels she would smash the clover between the two stones so that the clover was almost imprinted on to one of the rocks. Beautiful! This would make a wonderful present. She tossed the other rock onto the ground.

Into view came a small shack.

"Hmph." Milk huffed a sigh out loud. Is this where Hemlock lived? She wondered if the young woman enjoyed the small structure, perhaps it was cozy? You didn't need much room when you lived alone after all. It didn't seem so bad, and Milk thought that she wouldn't mind that type of lifestyle after all. Peace and quiet were rare these days.

"Hemlock, are you home?" Milk called out softly, a sweet and sultry tone to her voice. She did not want to get too close in case this wasn't her home, or if she was not in the mood to accept any visitors. "Hemlock?" she questioned again, her fingers fumbling with the present in her hand as she waited for a response from inside.

Pepsi turned at the sound of bootfalls behind him, placing the gore-stained glass around his neck quickly and lifting his hands over his head. He bared his teeth in a wide, mirthless grin at the so-called warriors who had come to investigate the death of their fellow, and the man leading them who spoke with him in a voice so stern, so rich with certainty in its Way. Finally.

"Alcohol, whose Way is walls and rules and bullets, who would bring order to the mad jungle. Had I known that death would bring me this audience, I would have piled body after body at your feet." He sniffed at the air, blood running down his face. "You could offer me your thanks. Your guard was disregarding his duty, and I contend that he has been rightly punished for the weakness of his Way."

He straightened his back and stood to his full, towering height, glancing between the guns drawn on him, the shaky hands, the horrified eyes. Perhaps he had been wrong about this place - perhaps these people would be better crushed beneath Plaza than serving underneath it. But Alcohol was a man of strength - he would serve the sun-priests well, in time.

"Tell the man who circles behind me that if he lays a hand on me, I will rip his throat out with my teeth," Pepsi barked, and the boy in question recoiled, obviously convinced he'd been quite discreet in his approach. "There is no reason in his dying today, nor mine. I will walk where you will take me." In Plaza, an outsider who attacked a Jaguar would be torn apart on the spot, his still-living guts an offering to the sun. But that was not the Way of this place, to gun down a threat in broad view of the people who had cheered for the attack. Time would tell which Way was superior, when one remained and one was ash and blood. The world was beautiful in that simplicity.

He held up his hands higher, still grinning, his gaze fixed on Alcohol. "I am waiting."

---

---

Avenue, Key is following you around, grimacing. You can tell she's pissed off at you for putting the burden of summoning Hope on her, and you can see she's coming to some kind of decision. She's not letting the stitch boys have a look at her just yet. Just following a few paces behind you as if trying to solve a puzzle on the back of your shirt.

Tum Tum is working with the doctors. He's got that weird hand twitch that makes you worried he'll end up killing someone, but whether that matters or not is up to you. And maybe your mood.

The uninjured are chopping up the ape meat. You notice that one of the apes is wearing a necklace, crudely formed of wood chips and human teeth. You've never seen an ape wearing jewelry before.



Sparrow, the girls seem distraught. Pixie, one of the youngest girls, sits nearby while you work to prepare the meat. "Milk left this morning... she went to find Alcohol so she could find Hemlock so she could find Twix... I'm worried."

She sits on the counter and smooths her burlap skirt.


"I think... I think you should go looking for her, Sparrow. Make sure she's okay. I don't want Hemlock to hurt her, and things have been really crazy in town today. We just got word that some guy named Pepsi killed one of Al's guards."

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---

Sparrow had almost forgotten about the nasty gash on her forehead until she went to brush the hair from her face and the pain caused her to visibly wince and clench her jaw. She put down the knife she’d been using to clean the meat before looking to the little girl, Pixie. Sparrow may have been cold and merciless in battle but when she was here in her home, the huntress was patient and kind. She listened to the child’s every word, watching with her calm grey eyes, normally stormy. Sparrow knelt down to Pixie’s level before speaking to her in a warm and reassuring voice. “I will do my best to find her, young one. I know what Milk means to you. Hopefully she’s found Twix, I’d hate to see anything bad happen to either of them and Twix certainly has her way of getting into trouble.”

Sparrow rose from her knees and rolled her shoulders before looking to one of the women who stood before her. “Cinder my dear, could you help me patch this up?” Sparrow motioned to her head before Cinder went to retrieve her supplies with a nod.

“Yes Sparrow, it is the least I can do for you.”

Many painful moments later, Cinder tied off the last stitch in Sparrow’s forehead and carefully cleaned away the dried blood around the wound. Sparrow opened her eyes, trying her hardest to hide the searing pain. She nodded gently to Cinder before rolling on her side and standing from where she had once laid. “Thank you…” Sparrow spoke, before going to retrieve her bow from the corner where she’d left it. Then, she reattached her waist-mounted quiver to her belt, making sure that there were enough arrows left to properly make use of.

Sparrow emerged from the shack she called home and squinted as the sun hit her unadjusted eyes. She took in her surroundings and watched as Alcohol and his men entered Twice’s place. Not something Sparrow wanted to get involved with. She had a decent standing with the guard and she wasn’t gonna screw that up for the sake of her own curiosity. Instead, she began her walk in the direction of Hemlock’s place. Clearly Milk had already spoken with Alcohol if he was now out here.

As she made her way into the forest, Sparrow drew her bow from its place and took an arrow from her quiver. It was not one of her normal arrows however. This one was tied to a long length of rope that hung from her pack and had a weight for its tip. She aimed the arrow up into the branches and let it fly, watching as it flew up and over a think extension of the tree trunk before falling back to the forest floor. Now she had her way up.

Sparrow carefully followed the path she’d stalked Hemlock along in the past, except this time she follow from the safety of the trees. It wasn’t long before she came upon the little construction that was Hemlock’s home and sure enough, there stood the fiery redhead that was her sister. Now? Now Sparrow watched from the tree, her hands loosely holding the bow, an arrow already nocked on its string. If Hemlock tried anything on Milk, her suffering would be short and her death swift. It wasn’t something Sparrow wanted to do, but she would if it was necessary.

Avenue was running bandages to a chirurgeon when he was interrupted by one of the uninjured men, who was waving a wooden necklace in his face. "Avenue! Sir! Prophet! We found this on that there Gorilla, what mean?", he said.
Avenue took the necklace to appraise it: it was a thing of beauty, the teeth adding malice to the ruggedness of the wood. "Clearly this was- this was sent by Hope herself. Scope, please go and- go and- go and prepare a ritual ground. We will examine this with the aid of Hope after all this," he gestured to the scene, "-has been- has been dealt with," he said. He walked over to the rest of the carcasses to see what else has been found, and Key was right behind him. This was irritating him beyond words could express, so before she could react, Avenue snapped around, causing her to crash into him and stumble back a bit. "Key. Key, Key, Key, Key, Key, Key, Key, Key, Key, Key. Quit following- following me. Make yourself useful- useful and go help the healers out," he said, pushing the bandage he was still holding into her hand and shooing her away like a fly.

Avenue resumed his previous duty, looking over the rest of the apes. Nothing else seemed to be amiss, so Avenue ordered their heads cut off and mounted on spikes, with the eyes of the one wearing the necklace gouged. They were to have bones put in their mouth, and fur on the top of the mouth removed.

All that done, and the chirurgeons still needed help, so Avenue went to Tum Tum to see if there was anything he could do.
"Yes. You can get Key to actually help," Tum Tum pointed at the woman, who was shuffling along, and turned to glare at Avenue. "All she's done since you sent her over is shuffle around like that," he said. Avenue noticed that his hand was twitching. Well that's interesting, thought Avenue. Raising his voice to a shout so the whole clearing could hear, he said "My Devout! A great victory- terrible victory we have won. Some of us have fallen- have fallen, but you all know how Hope wants us- wants us to react to this. Unflinchingly. Unflinchingly. Let's remember our fallen with a fight- a fight." He raised his arms to the air, humming. Other voices joined his, until a dissonant chorus frightened the birds off, going on just long enough to make any onlooker uncomfortable.
Opening his eyes, Avenue gestured for silence. "The combatants will be- will be Tum Tum and Key. Tum Tum has the favour of Hope," he declared, giving Tum Tum the iron.

A roughly ring shaped space was cleared on the ground around Key, which Tum Tum approached. Key was still nursing her bit finger, while Tum Tum was but a little bit tired and had a weapon in hand.

"Fight!"

---

---

The circle forms around Tum Tum and Key, with the smaller woman looking positively outclassed in the fight. She doesn't back down, though, shooting you a hateful glare.

"Hope, grant me thy divine strength, that I may show your power to those who doubt and lead astray." The words fall from her mouth before Tum Tum charges, swinging wildly and recklessly with the iron bar.

Key throws herself into a roll with the first clumsy swing, and manages to kick another away before climbing to her feet inside of Tum Tum's reach, throwing her blood-covered injury into his face and swiping it across his eyes, leaving a thick crimson trail. Tum Tum recoils, clutching at his eyes and making another wild swing. It slams into Key's side with a dull ringing sound and a wet crunch, causing Key to cough violently even as she swings her arm over the iron and holds it fast against her battered body.

The crowd is chanting, baying for blood. Key's blood.

Key turns her body, wrestling the iron from Tum Tum's single-handed grip. Even as Tum Tum backpedals to get away she jams it squarely into his groin, dropping him to his knees before she delivers a blow, screaming at the top of her lungs, across his temple.

The circle goes silent as she swings wildly several more times into Tum Tum's fallen body, until the iron bar is bloodied and Tum Tum is clearly and thoroughly dead.

She coughs up some blood as soon as she is done, but gives a defiant glare to the assembled. "Now that one more doubter is dead... let's get to work."

Avenue, you can feel a shift in your flock. Some of them, in their hearts, belong to Key now. She keeps the iron bar, and nobody is stopping her from carrying it with her to the chirurgeons.

Alcohol squinted at the smiling maniac. What the fuck was he on about? Whatever it was, it sounded like he was surrendering. He threatened a guards life, which Al didn't like. Clearly, he thought he was making some kind of power move. Right now, the best thing to do would be not to engage on a philosophical level with the pyscho.

"We're puttin' you in cuffs." Al declared bluntly. It was a statement of fact rather than a threat or even a command. The young man behind Pepsi looked nervous. Another guard joined him, she holstered her gun and held a baseball bat for close quarters. Pepsi was surrounded, but Al could not risk Pepsi walking with those deadly hands of his free. If Pepsi was going to attempt an escape the mayor would rather have him start fighting right now while outgunned and outmaneuvered, than later, when the warrior could act on his own terms. Even if this guy somehow managed to kill someone, he would get gunned down right after.

Still, the preferable outcome was this guy coming quietly. Give him an inch, he'll take a mile. It was very key that right now Alcohol showed Steelbird Landing that they all had it under control. Gun him down in the streets like the savage dog he was and suddenly they might have a point. Well, Al thought grimly to himself, they don't. Nothing makes a stronger statement than a second chance.

Trembling hands fumbled clumsily through a cluttered desk, grasping different items before coming to a rest. After her hands landed upon their desired destination, Hemlock cleansed her bloodied palms briskly, a loose fitting bandage placed upon each wound after, keeping infection away but allowing the cuts air to breathe. The sudden chirp from outside would catch her attention, the voice familiar, belonging to none other than Milk surely. Hemlock would snatch a sheer, crocheted, black robe-like slip, before wandering towards her shacks entrance. "Hello, Milk. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Hemlock stood comfortably in the shacks doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the old wooden framing. Her demeanor appeared undisturbed, but her eyes were always sure to pan their surroundings, looking beyond Milk once or twice before resting on her figure.

Milk only glanced upon Hemlock's figure in the door way, before walking closer to her in small, non-aggressive steps. "First and foremost Hemlock, I brought you a gift." she handed over the rock that had a three leaf clover smashed upon it. A smile was plastered against her lips, but soon faded as she looked to the woman's bandaged wounds. "Oh, I'm sorry- are you okay?" she questioned, motioning to grab Hemlock's wrist to examine, but resisted. What was Hemlock doing? What had she done? Milk knew it was not appropriate to grab her, nor did she want to get Hemlock upset before she got her own sought out answers. She continued, "Second, I was told by someone that you might know some information, and I know that you aren't one to..." she pursed her lips slightly, peeking through her sheered robe "hide things." she smiled, her weight shifting on to her back her hip. "I need to know what happened to Twix." she bluntly spoke, wanting answers.

As Milk approached, Hemlock's chin lifted ever so slightly, eyes glancing down her nose in a curious manner. The rock earned a jovial expression that played at Hemlock's features, she tossed it from hand to hand childishly before glancing back towards Milk as the other woman questioned the whereabouts of Twix. "Twix~" The name rolled off her tongue sensually, a lecherous gleam in her piney eyes. "Mmm, she's grown yes? Her whereabouts belong to her and none other than her.. I have no place to disclose where she has gone nor why.. But you do seem to have intentions that are pure." Hemlock flashed a wicked smile, rubbing her bandaged palms together carelessly. "Pay my wounds no mind, I am fine, just as Twix is also fine.. She merely sought my expertise. As I'm sure you know, I have extensive knowledge with herbs, but my intellect goes beyond that, I know a lot about the body.. Twix was desperate for advice- One, two, three, four, five, six." Hemlock's once lively eyes and confident expression would falter, her face falling blank, eyes glazed over as numbers spewed from her lips in repetition. This lasted only momentarily before her gaze shifted back to Milk, seemingly un-pausing from the previous state as if nothing had happened. "Twix is infertile, I gave her a thorough examination, she is unable to bear a child, her womb is unfit for life."

Hemlock's analogies and puzzling way of speaking annoyed but mostly entertained Milk. She loved a good story, and she loved a good riddle- but even she became impatient once in awhile. She remained quiet as the young woman spoke, going back and forth between conversations. It wasn't until the last statement was said that Milk's attention shot towards the woman's spewing mouth. A pit in her stomach tumbled and squeezed, instantly feeling uneasy "She gave birth once you know, the men robbed her of that joy." Milk recalled that day like it was yesterday. Twix had given birth to a girl, when she had promised her beloved a boy. Milk hid the child for years, lied to the face of the man and said his child had died during delivery. When they had found out they took the young girl and did... only they know what they did. Milk wiped the sweat from her forehead as she brought her open palm back into her dreaded red hair. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked to the sky, the sun making her ducts flow with salted tears. "I am glad she is okay, but I do not know why you two found it necessary to hide this from me." she peered down and looked into Hemlock's soft gaze, "We are not so different you and I, Hemlock. I hope you know that. I hope you remember, we are cut from the same cloth, you and I." she meant the comment, it wasn't a ploy in the slightest. Her delicate fingers reached up and cupped Hemlock's cheek, her thumb stroking it with intent. As long as Twix was alive, Milk was pleased with the answers she had received. She would not waste more time today looking for her, but if the woman decided to come back begging there would be hell to pay for the disappearing act. Removing her hand from Hemlock's face, "If you are hungry, cold, or needing a companion my door is always open for you Hemlock." Milk said, a slight nod of her head making a silent pact between them.

Hemlock could see the distress that stained Milk's face, painting pain, worry even in the other woman's eyes. Hemlock clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, tutting at the words Milk spoke. "Twix spoke of worries she had, concern that you would be angry with her inability to birth another child. You are after all, a breeder of sorts.. Those women, while you may cherish some, are your livestock and when livestock fails to prove useful... well.." Hemlock shrugged, letting her sentence run off without conclusion. A soft smile would be offered in response to Milk's kindness and opening of her home, it was not usual for others to trust Hemlock. She was considered, odd.. and most times was avoided at all costs.. That was until someone needed some form of herb or medical advice. This didn't bother Hemlock, she much preferred the seclusion her reputation earned her. "Thank you, Milk.. I appreciate your kindness.. If you ever need,anything, you know where to find me." Hemlock's smile twisted into a devilish smirk that was followed by a wink. "I adore the stone by the way, do allow me to fetch you a gift in return.. Stay right there." Without awaiting a reply, Hemlock disappeared within her shack, the sound of items clattering and clashing with the floor could be heard before the lithe woman reappeared, a lavender toned satchel in her grasp. "Inside are two herbs, Maca and Red Clover. Each can be used as an aphrodisiac. I thought you could use these for your girls, or personally I suppose." Hemlock reached forward and gripped Milk's hands gingerly, placing the satchel there before retracting. "They are to be chewed and swallowed an hour before sexual intercourse and should last a few hours.."