T'was on a barrier island barely thirty kilometers off of the coast of the Blessed Isle. Warm summer air and a pleasantly salty breeze belied the terror the inhabitants were going through. Lintha pirates, horrible rogues with a penchant for demon worship and wanton slaughter, were laying siege to the small community. Despite it all, one young woman walked toward the sea shore. Her eyes transfixed to the horizon, she muttered only two words. Though her words were nearly silent to all but the most keen of ears, one of the nearby Lintha was able to read her lips. The pirate grumbled, then briskly walked over and cuffed her upside the head with the haft of his broad-axe.

"Oi, you daft cunt! We's already 'ere!" growled the pirate as he ran his knife up the back of the woman's dress. However, something stopped the man dead in his tracks as he leaned in to grope her and run his tongue along her cheek. What came next was not what the pirate expected. "Mmm, yeah... come on, you mutated Lintha bastard. Come on! Take me like the whore you want me to be!" As she finished, the woman grabbed hold of her top and tore it off, only to throw it in the pirate's face. Surprised, the pirate stepped back momentarily... only to be run through with a large sword.

The girl before him tilted her head, smiled, and waved goodbye to her would-be rapist before bursting into tiny ribbons of crimson and black. As the Lintha turned his head to see who had stabbed him from behind, he saw a woman clad in dark armor for the briefest of moments before she tore her sword out sideways through his ribcage and followed it up with a decapitation.

Flicking the blood from her blade, the woman was clearly irritated. "I sent the signal to those blighters in Thorns nearly six weeks ago. You'd think crossing the inland sea on th..."


It was a day like any other in the Imperial Ruins. The night had brought light rain, the morning was cool and pleasant, and most folks were just trying to get through another day. As he sat across from one of the various churches in the Ruins, Fergus chuckled and said "I suppose I should go deliver the news to them." before popping a handful of Bloodberry Trail Mix into his mouth. What news? Well, it was not likely good news for the folks using the building. The local magistrate had been informed by the owner of the land that he wished the current "tenants" to vacate. Why? He wanted to build a home there for his extended family, as doing so in the Imperial Ruins was far cheaper than buying a new plot of land elsewhere.

For a moment, Fergus thought to himself if he REALLY wanted to enforce this writ. From everything he'd heard, the monk who headed this little conclave was not only a veteran of the war but also a pillar of the local community. That only lasted a moment, however. Fergus was, after all, a child of House Mnemon. Not only did he have to live up to that, but his reputation as a barrister would take a huge hit if he refused to present writs to defendants. If THAT happened, he wouldn't make near as much jade. If he didn't make as much jade, well... he could kiss moving back home goodbye. When it all boiled down, he didn't have much choice in the matter.

Another handful of his favorite snack went down the hatch as he sat there thinking, but he couldn't really delay any longer. He had four other writs to hand out before the end of the day. Given the size of this district of the city and the fact he was on foot, that alone would take up most of his afternoon. Not to mention the walk home afterward. Thankfully he would be in the courtroom all day tomorrow and his poor legs would get a break from all the walking. Still, a job was a job. It was time to be the bearer of bad news. It sucked, but someone had to do it. And so Fergus put on his best face and headed over to the rather quaint-looking house of worship.

"Dragons, please forgive me for this one. I'm just doing my job."

Cilla headed for Snow’s sanctuary, the night had brought rain which meant that her clothes were damp, cold, and clingy which drew unwanted eyes with unhealthy thoughts. She knew that she should be safe and warm at Moon’s. Maybe even get some warm food. Street rats, like herself, needed someone watching out from the Jon’s and thugs.

Snow had a reputation that he wasn’t to be messed with. Cilia had dropped his name in a couple tight spots mentioning that he was waiting for her. She had been able to escape. She liked to think of being under his protection, but she wasn’t sure. She had brought things to the church, some interesting curiosities and money, when she had it. Today, she came with a bag full of items, that she hope Moon could help her sort as being of value and not.

She noticed Fergus as he was putting the trail mix, in his mouth. She nodded then looked down trying to be invisible. She knew he was trouble by the man’s shoes, expensive and shiny. She crossed the street quickly and entered calling for Snow. “Trouble is coming to your door! Right now!” She nearly shouted. In her life experience, people in expensive shoes always brought bad news. She was hoping someday to experience something different. But, she was playing the odds.

Snow always got up before dawn every morning. This was his life. One of ritual. One of repetition everyday. It was an affront to the powers of chaos that he was the stability. It was his own sense of vindictiveness from the war, and reverence. He washed his face, slipped on his white yukata, something he would spend alot of time to stay white, slip on his sandles, take his satchel and live the humble interior of his little church. It was a fifteen minute walk out of the ruins into the nearby country side. There was a few groves and plots that the owners would allow him to occasionally pick fruits and vegetables for in return for blessing their land and honoring harvest gods.

He would always do something first. He would take off his sandles on a lonely hill, remove the creases in his robes and get on his knees He would face the East. He would wait in the darkness, until the first light stretches over creation. The Dawning sun. He'd be there to greet it, he'd be there to bow his head to it. He'd be there to thank it, the Unconquered Sun, and the chosen that had saved his life and freed him from a life of ignorance. He owed the hero that much. He'd do the same at sundown, bowing to it as it crests the mountain, thanking it for its warmth and light, and bid that it rise the next day.

Then, he remove the top of his Yukata. He'd take a wide stance, center himself, and Begin. He needed to practice the forms and katas. The Imperial Ruins have been dangerous lately. He has his congregation to look to him, to protect them. He needed to stay focused, stay loose, call back to his days in the monastary and put effort and focus into every strike, every move and flourish. He would hop on one foot to switch to the other, his arms folding and moving like a cranes wings in flight, before the hands would turn sideways, and he'd stamp his feet, cutting strikes, kicks and punches, emulating the aspects of the five dragons. He felt the pain of his sprained ankle from a few days ago, the pinch of a rotator cuff that needed more time to heal. His age was getting to him, but this was all he had. The people of the Realm.

If he could do this til Lethe takes him, he just might be happy.

---

He returned to the Ruins his basket filled with peaches, leeks, potatoes, and bushels of raspberry, he walked back to his little church, opening the door to the three dozen or so homeless that called the walls of stone and shakled roof home. He set the basket in the kitchen as a boy with a sick mother showed up. "Could you put this away Brother Lee?" he asked the boy who agreed.

He went to a basin of water and prepared a cloth of water and took a few bottles from a cupboard. He walked up the stairs, seeing an older gentleman with a twisted leg. "Good morning Angron. Good to see you out of bed."

The bearded man smiled at the ex-priest. "Still haven't cut your hair Snow?"

"I'm not with the Order, you know that."

"I know, the ladies like a well groomed man is all. You're not too old to pop out some pups.""

"I have enough children right now thank you." Snow laughed. "But I'll consider it.

Snow went to a room, one of the only private ones available, a prostitute, her eye bandaged, arm broken and all manner of welts lay here, two of her friends waking up nearby. She had been savagely beaten by her pimp for getting pregnant. Maiden's Tea had become quite expensive and many had to go without. Thankfully she had friends who brought her here. "Good morning sisters. How are you today Lilly?" He kneeled next to the hurt girl, looking at him through tearied eyes, another rough night. "Don't give me that look. The medicine can't be that bad." The handsome man smiles happily down at the hurt woman. His face showing constantly that there is nothing to fear, all will be well. Gentleness in his hands he coats a spoon in the medicine and held hers head. "Say ahh."

They all had worries, they all had no where else to go. Snow always tries to keep the doors open. The community called it Sparrow's Solace. Everyone had a roof and a friend at Solace.

---

Near lunch, after morning prayers.

The bard Axley had given the ex-monk an idea when he complained to her that he wasn't getting rich off of providing a safe place for the penniless, the sick, and the maimed. It was donations, tit for tat, and services that would bring food and clothing, and medicine for those in the Solace. He managed to get his hands on an old Sanxian and he was to meet the talented musician near the center of the 'city'. He hoped to maybe impress one of the merchants, hopefully using Axley's good looks and supreme talent next to his own reputation (And also debatable good looks) to get a few more yen for himself. He hoped, but not even the Dragons could make him a better player over the course of a weak. Still, she was atleast open to the idea, maybe he could play base... well, striking the same chord over and over again. He could do that.

He had the saxian all in tune and ready to go on his back when who would appear, a friend. A friend and a giver. Truly Cilla was always welcome and infact, he enjoyed her company. They'd talk over the items she'd bring, offering stories if he could over the bland tea he could afford. He enjoyed teaching her to read and even offered her books that were donated for her travels, though he figured she was always just going through the ruins getting into trouble. She could always stay but she deserved more than just spending her nights at a half run down piece of masonry. He'd have to see where she was always running off to. "Morning Cilla. Maybe you'd like to-?"

Her words gave him pause. "Trouble?" his smile fainted only slightly as he laid the sanxian down and went for the door, his hands in his sleeves.

He appeared in the door way, confronting a man that the monk was immediately reminded of patrician's clothes. Or maybe a merchant. In any case, it was made of leathers and silks, not cotton or wool and he had cobbled shoes. He looked at the man, before a big smile formed on his face. He bowed his head, his long dark, almost blue hair cascading over a shoulder. "Hello my brother. Welcome to Solace. You may always find rest here, please come in if you need."

Being a bard wasn't as easy as many seemed to think. It was probably the most common heckle Axley was used to receiving from particularly drunken listeners when she played in taverns come day's end. She'd been offended when she first started her unwieldy career, but nowadays she simply scoffed and rolled her eyes. Not everyone could play a tune, let along a good one. She knew that now...though when she had first started hearing the coarse, brutish nature of the common working man had been quite the bit of culture shock. It had taken time to grow accustomed to the nature of society, though once she had she had learned she didn't much like taking shit from others; her personality grew confident and a bit standoffish as a result, though her heart still beat pure and would not rest to see another's suffering.

Today, she wasn't to be alone-she'd often played at Snow Sparrow's church in the evenings, the only payment she truly required being a sampling of some of the dinner he'd provide to the homeless that night. For a soup kitchen of sorts, the meal was really quite excellent; it was what had first drawn Axley to the place when she had first arrived in the Ruins, barely a yen to her name. Her first night had been at the church, in fact; it was out of the kindness of its head that she had managed to get back on her feet in the first place. She could say she owed him one, and repaid his kindness whenever she could by making an appearance to grace the church and its following with a bit of music to enhance their evening. It didn't pay well, but sometimes money wasn't the most important thing in the world. If only her father had learned that lesson.

Axley rose early as always; in order to snag the crowd at lunchtime, she had to prepare early. She wished to start earlier than usual as well; she knew Sparrow was bringing a sanxian, but apparently his skill was not quite as refined as hers. She intended to help him along just a little, and figure out a few numbers that they could play together. A minstrel band could draw more than a single bard...but only if all the players were in harmony. The slightest bit of makeup to ensure her features were fair, and a fresh set of her bard's clothes, and she was prepared for the day. The walk to the center of town was a fairly long one, but rewarding; it helped keep her body in shape and gave her plenty of time to let her thoughts wander. She pulled into their planned meeting spot a little bit early to find no Snow Sparrow in sight. She supposed she had gotten there early, and she knew he had a morning routine, so she couldn't fault the man too much. She played on her own for a little bit, collecting the few coins tossed her way with a bright smile and a thanks, before starting to wonder just where he was. Had he forgotten? Had he gotten the time wrong?

Once an hour had passed, Axley grew a mite concerned. She abandoned her usual spot, taking off down the court at a brisk pace in the direction of Snow Sparrow's church. He'd probably gotten distracted with others or simply gotten the meeting time wrong; either way, they were burning daylight to work together. Her legs carried her away from the bustle of the crowd, out towards the outskirts where she knew his church was located. Seemed to be a fairly busy spot today; even just from a distance, she could see a few children playing outside. Seemed he'd been busy after all. That was fine, but he'd made a commitment and she intended to see it through, one way or another. She walked up to the entrance to find Snow Sparrow engaged with another man she didn't pay much attention to at first. "Oi, Sparrow." A mildly irritated, nearly lyrical voice would greet the ears of those at the door as Axley approached. "You didn't forget our gig was today, did you?" It was only then she noticed the man Sparrow was speaking to. This was not one of his flock; no, she recognized those clothes from her time with Father. This was a barrister, possibly a lawyer. For one to be here...it likely wasn't good news. "This guy bothering you?" Axley wasn't a fighter, but it wouldn't stop her from defending those she cared about, and the ceremonial sword on her back gleamed in the midday light.

"Of bloody course they'd freak out." grumbled Fergus as he watched folks scramble around. No one really liked seeing him or others in his profession unless they were the claimant. Still, he had a job to do. Sometimes it wasn't pleasant. Sometimes it wasn't enjoyable. But the unfortunate fact was that people like him were necessary. If not for laws, what would the Blessed Isle be but a massive collection of nomads and bandits? Plus the folks he served such writs to USUALLY did something to deserve it. Granted, that wasn't the case this time.

As he neared the entryway to the makeshift church, the Mnemon lawyer heard "... oor. Right now!" and thought to himself "Great. Now they are going to barricade the door. This is going to be faaaaantastic." And so he knocked on the door, expecting things to get complicated very quickly. Such was usually the case. Whether it was a writ to pay for something, a seizure of property, request to vacate, etc... folks just did not like being given bad news and would often do crazy things to avoid it. That didn't deter Fergus, though. He wasn't going anywhere.

Much to his surprise, the door not only was NOT barricaded; but the monk who led the congregation answered the knock. "Much appreciated, my Immaculate friend. I have to admit I'm not really used to warm welcomes. Comes with the trade, you know. Most folks are not fond of bloodsucking lawyer types like myself." the statement was followed by a hearty chuckle.

The duo was greeted by a girl who was dressed somewhat nicely. She spoke of a "gig" before turning her attention to Fergus and asking if the monk was being troubled by his presence. Her tone was firm and not exactly polite, but verbal confrontations were definitely preferable to physical ones. Uppn taking a small piece of paper from his shirt pocket, he handed it to the girl. What was it? Simple. It was a business card, of sorts. His information on one side, and House Mnemon credentials on the other.

"Fergus Mac Teague, Imperial barrister for House Mnemon. I do sincerely wish I WASN'T here to trouble our monk friend here." he tilted his head in Snow's direction as he made mention of him, then turned to face the man directly. "Unfortunately, that's not the case today. I've a writ from the noble courts demanding you vacate within the day." even though he was just doing his job, a blatant look of displeasure had crept onto Fergus' face. It was clear he was not enjoying this delivery.

A sigh, a look around, and another handful of trail mix.

"I'm duty-bound to enforce this, and I won't be leaving until it is complied with. That said... there's nothing saying I can't help. Surely an extra pair of hands would be useful." While it wasn't much, helping them move things out was literally the only thing he could do to make the news less hard to bear. He couldn't just peave these people to do all the work themselves. After all, the guardsmen nearby sure as hell wouldn't help out. They were too busy watching nothing.


Meanwhile, the woman who had singlehandedly routed a Lintha raid on the coast was standing on a hillside overlooking the Imperial Ruins. In her hand, a vicious blade crafted from blackened and bloodthirsty Soulsteel. Behind her, a force of nearly ten thousand undead warriors and hungry ghosts... all bent on destroying whatever they were ordered to attack. In their sights: The Imperial Ruins. It would not be long before they would burst forth from the forests that surrounded the makeshift city and reduced it to a smoldering graveyard. All at the behest of their overlord, the Mask of Winters.

Soon, the Blessed Isle would fall before his mighty army and righteous cause. No fey would take Winters’ prize from him. He had schemed for too long to let the rest of the world fall to the forces of chaos. In destroying it, he would not only preserve it and rule over it for himself… but also save it, in a twisted sense. The Wyld could not consume shadowlands, as they were directly connected to the Underworld. Creation had a simple choice to make. Either it would live on under his rule… or perish altogether. It mattered not if the people understood that or if they fought against him. His goal was as noble as it was selfish. The Imperial Ruins would be the staging area for his grand assault and creation of the largest shadowland in history... and no one would stop him now.

It was going to be an interesting day...

Cilla would not trust this man, in fact most people wouldn't. He could already feel like the breeze had shifted. The wheels of destiny were turning and the world itself would turn on the ex priest. He abandoned his order. The dragons had no obligation to look after this meek little traitor, so of course he was just as vulnerable to bad news as anyone.

Still... Sparrow would not treat this man any differently. He had seen evil. This man was not evil. "Please. Come in. I'll prepare us some tea." He smiled at Cilla happily. He wanted to make sure his friend was no too perturbed. He always showed that face, closed eyes, soft almost fatherly grin through white teeth.



A truly maddening sentiment.

He got out of the man's to invite him inside. "I appreciate the friend, though I must correct you on the title. I'm not with the order. They kicked me out when my hair grew too long." He joked. "It looked so nice, I didn't have the heart to cut it down."

He then heard the songbird voice of the woman he had mistakenly stood up. She seemed to come to his aid and defense, much to the glee in his heart. His smile faltered as a hand went to his head, a slight lingering on his brow. "Oh dear. I apologize Axley, no I didn't forget but I was very much delayed." He bowed to her, hands in front, a fist into an open palm fingers pointing upwards. "Please, forgive me. We will leave as soon as I hear what this gentleman has to say."

And the man did not take his invitation instead, offering him the bad news. This was enough to make Snow's smile fade completely. A pause uttered through as adrenaline seized Snow's heart, making his chest tighten. Barrister Fergus was a messenger though. It wasn't his decision or his desire... atleast from what was stated. "Oh... Oh dear." The ex-monk tiled his eyes down for a moment as he attempted to come up with some kind of solution. "A day..." He repeated. It was impossible... he couldn't prepare anything within a day... it was near noon already. "I- I sincerely wish I had received this news earlier." He closed his eyes, muttering a small prayer to himself before he centered, trying to atleast come up with a way, any way he could rectify this.

The ex monk stood with arms at his side. "Very well." He said agreeing to the writ. He looked up though, his eyes stoic, but pleading.
"Master Mac Teague. I have two pregnant girls, four injured men, three infirm, and nine children. I do not wish you to bring the Dark Helms to my door step, but I will need to find somewhere for these people to stay. If you could give me more time, three days is all I ask. Three, and we will leave without any trouble." He bowed his head to him. "Please, Good Sir. I can even bargain myself if need be as payment. I beg of you to ask your masters for just some time." He was a man who forgone pride if it meant ease for others.

Cilla looks at the former monk and says, “I know of a place that is about a ten minute walk from here.” She pauses for a moment then continues, ”It is not safe there, even the stray dogs stay out of the area.” From Cilla, this is about as bad of a recommendation as she can give a place. She looks at the barrister, “Do you think you can get a wagon and some guards to help us clear the building?”

She goes on to describe what was a warehouse with doors that could be latched. Bad things had happened there to some of the street girls and some of them were left beaten and broken. She closes her eyes as she talks about the horrible things that happen in that area, ignored by the guard at night.she closed her hand as if she was holding a knife. She pauses again the anger showing in her body. She was not a knife fighter, she like her dogs was more use to tooth and claw.

Sometimes, Axley couldn't believe the cordiality and patience of the man called Snow Sparrow. Lawyers generally tended to never be good news in the Imperial Ruins, and the bard had a bad feeling about this encounter. Inviting the man in for tea was likely not the best course of action, but Axley was really in no position to fight. Violence against someone in the legal business would go over extremely poorly...not that she was much of a fighter anyways. She knew enough to swing a blade and defend herself, but her ceremonial sword was mostly for intimidation...she wasn't entirely sure how the thing hadn't broken in the few scraps she'd had since she struck out on her own.

More importantly, Axley knew the moment the news was delivered that her plans for the day were ruined. Not that she was mad at Sparrow...no, she had a much more pointed target of her outrage. "You have got to be kidding me. You're joking, right?" To forcefully evict a a pillar of the community, and a church no less, was bad enough, but to give him a day...? Did the people ordering this goon around have any sense of labor and time? There was no world in which even a group of Solars could vacate the premises safely over the course of a day, even if one did not sleep and used the night as well. She knew she couldn't fight the writ itself; perhaps if she still had the status of her bloodline to back her up, she might, but with her family dead, her money liquidated, and her lineage all but forgotten, there was precious little she could do here but be indignant.

"So this is how the rich treat the less privileged, got it." Was this how her father was as well? She'd kept mostly out of business affairs, focusing instead on being a proper daughter of a Crawford. If that was the case...maybe it was no wonder he had made enemies. Still. That was then, and this was now. Axley stood with a hand on her hip, the burning glare in her eyes more than enough to melt straight through any with a faint heart. "Well, you can tell whatever idiot decided to make this writ that a day isn't sufficient time to evacuate an entire block of underprivileged folk out. Hell, three days wouldn't be enough." Axley was choosing her words carefully despite her anger. The last thing she needed was for her words to be seen as a threat and legal action be tossed her way. She took a breath before she continued to speak.

"So here's how this works. Either you give us more time to find a safe place for all these people and a proper place for Sparrow to continue his work...or you can turn around and prosecute the fool who ordered this for murder when they have to slaughter us for merely being mortal. Sure that'll look fantastic for them." It was a bad enough situation for Axley, Sparrow, and everyone here. Surely anyone with a sense of decency would understand that people couldn't up and move an entire homeless shelter in a day.

Of the three people nearest to Fergus upon his explaining why he was there, it seemed as though the only person handling this somewhat well was the monk. It made sense, given his former training. Immaculates, even former ones, were often exemplars of self-control. One woman suggested they move to a place that was so unsafe that not even feral hounds chose to live there. The other was making demands of him as if she was some noble of higher standing than the magistrates of the city. Neither was an intelligent thing to do, but Fergus understood they were being emotional. Luckily for all three, Fergus did not enjoy delivering this news to them. He had a plan that would help all of them, and still get the land owner what they wanted.

"Calm yourselves, please." pleaded Fergus before taking a few individual berries out of one of the pouches on his belt and nervously eating them, giving the trio a moment to compose themselves. "I know this is tragic for you all. As I said, I wish I didn't have to give you this news. If it were up to me? I'd just let you stay. But that's not the case." he looked to his side and rifled through a different pouch on his belt as he spoke. "All that being said, the land owner and magistrates said nothing about allowing OR disallowing me personally to help. I'd like to give you some money in order to both pay for assistance in moving your things from the building and to arrange temporary shelter at an inn nearby."

At that, he took one Koku and two Quian from the pouch he had been fiddling with. "I may be a barrister. I may be wealthy. I may be privileged. But I am not heartless. You're doing good work here. Yes, the man is within his rights to demand you leave. But he is not doing so in a way that is very considerate. Legal, yes. Right, no. So take this money and use it. It should get you by for a week or so, at least. Now come on. Let's start by finding a suitable place nearby. The able-bodied here can at least START packing things up, yes?"

Fergus handed the money to Snow and motioned to the front exit.


Not far away, Cackling Harlot's Retribution saw the silhouette of a gargantuan creature approaching from the east. The Juggernaut had arrived. This was the signal she had beem waiting for. Turning to her force of undead soldiers, she let out a primal scream and pointed her blade toward the Imperial Ruins. It was time to take the city. Cackling Harlot knew this was the beginning of the end, and in a few short minutes she would bask in the despair and death that she and her warriors would unleash.

Cilla watched the exchanges that were happening. Her emotions were running high and she knew it. He was correct about that. As she watched the exchange between Fergus and the ex-monk, the apology of sorts and the offer of real help. She let the inner growl die down to a soft snarl. His body language had given a hint of humanity and his words expressed a sense of something - Guilt, shame, regret - she could not place it and she dared not to ask anyone. She knew Fergus like snow to be Alpha's and they had their pride and image to maintain. She was a yipping pup in their world, an annoyance, and her admiration or gratitude would mean little to either of them.

Cilla struggled as she thought. On one hand, She wanted to like Fergus. She wanted to admire him for his kindness. As she looked at him, She did feel grateful and it showed on her face. On the other hand, one had to be cautious. One does not give their friendship for one kind act. She liked the thought of being able to sleep in an inn, it would be like being a lady. A bed and a bath would being a queen. She did not like the thought of taking Ferus' generosity as a hand out. It was offered to Snow and those under his protection. Snow also knew that she would need to do something worth what she received or she would not accept it. She blew a sigh out.

Cilla then looked from Ferus to Axley and watched the bard. She would do what Snow asked her to do. How could she do less, he had helped her many times and kept her safe. Cilla looked at Axley with eyes that asked the big question, Is he nice or mean? Axley knew people like she knew animals. Axley had made a point of learning peoples names and listening to their stories. She had been patient with people like Cilla that had a hard time trusting. She was glad that Axley had gotten to know her, even a little. Axley knew her name and the names of her dogs. She watched the Bard trying to read her body language on what was going on.

It is good to face a challenge with friends. Cillia and Axley both came to his defense, thinking about others than themselves. They were too good for him. "Cillia. Axley." He whispered, feeling his head thrum from the tension and release of adrenaline.

Cillia recommended a place nearby and frankly the option had merit but would be considered a last resort. There were... places... in every city that felt the touch of the war. Dark places. Everyone knew that ghosts exist, very few seen one, but fewer still know what kind of terror they can wreak. If that was indeed the case... there were worse things. Still he knew the rites and words for an excorcism. But he knew that wouldn't be an easy choice. "It's an option..." He said considering.

Axley was a bit more direct. She was always that way. Yes, a talented bard, easy on the eyes but she could command an entire room if she wanted. Had she been of higher birth she'd be a heck of a patrician but probably not so artistically inclined. For a moment even Snow was tight lipped watching her. She had the floor and she was his 'lawyer' it seemed. Her empassioned plea like the Fires of Hesiesh herself.

Then Mr. Fergus spoke. His expression was sympathetic, but- nervous. He ate something from his belt providing a much needed pause as tensions simmered. The man gave a speech and while Snow was expecting the honey'ed words of a man whom was used to using those less fortunate under a seal of authority, his words and actions were much different. Fergus seemed a man of integrity and virtue. In a single moment he had offered dire news but atleast a temporary solution that was indeed a safer recourse.

Taking the coins in his hand, Snow rubbed them together... they were real. This earned the ex-monk a sigh of relief. "This is a sizable offering..." He said with a growing smile. "You are only the messenger of bad news, but you do not reflect your supriors. That is a rarity in this world." He bowed to him again. "Thank you, your hands will be appreciated. It is a dark day, but the Dragons will see us through. A moment please to share the news and give the others time to pack."

He turned to the Cillia and Axley, his handsome, even pretty face smiling warmly at them. "And thank you both. Honestly I'd feel lost if I didn't have either of you here. If you can think of anywhere in the meantime and help me, I'll repay you in kind." More books for the urban explorer, more concerts with Axley. "Though I'm afraid we might have to reschedule our music session..." He said, trying to put on a brave face.

He looked to Cillia holding up a hand and smiling nervous. "Not saying you didn't have a good idea, I'd prefer if I didn't have to fight for it.

He would walk off for a moment, finding the older, if still capable man he spoke to. The news was obviously harsh, but Snow was friends with this man, and while Snow sought new dwellings, he would spread the word. He went to a corner, taking a walking stick in his hand, and setting the prayer scroll case across his back. "I was thinking the Metal Road. Surly there must be an empty warehouse we could procure." And he exited into the streets.

Sometimes, Axley hated life. When her home and family burned before her very eyes and left her alone, near penniless, and adrift in the sea of fate. When she was homeless in the Imperial Ruins before meeting Sparrow, begging for a living and having nothing but her blade and lute to her name. And right now, being forced to accept that her once-home and treasured place in her heart was being destroyed at the whim of some asshole who decided the lives of those within simply didn't matter. Those were the times Axley truly despised the cards she had been dealt. But unfortunately...she couldn't simply ask for a redeal. She would have to play them the only way she truly knew how.

She could feel the eyes of Cillia on her as she watched the exchange of money take place. At least the man was being charitable and giving them a chance...though part of that made her angry as well. Simply flaunt money at a problem, and suddenly everything was better. That was her father's way of thinking as well; he may have been doing it with the right intentions, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth. Regardless...it was clear she was simply not winning this fight. Moreover, the last thing she wanted to do was set off the woman beside her. If she were to decide the man deserved hate...there was no telling what might happen.

With a defeated sigh, Axley hung her head for a moment before folding her arms. "Looks like I don't have any option but to agree." She spoke as though it were her own livelihood being taken from her, her own home being uprooted. At times, it truly felt that way. Even as Sparrow turned to them and he thanked them for their presence...Axley felt somewhat useless. "I don't exactly have a ton of space, but I can take at least a few people in in interim. It's the least I can do." It was also the most she could do, but details were in the eye of the beholder, she supposed. She grumbled to herself. "Honestly, after this, I'm not in the mood to go serenading. I'm probably going to go stuff my face in some diner tonight." Axley liked to eat her frustrations away. Luckily, she was not frustrated often, but for tonight she'd likely be eating something very large and expensive.

For now, though...she needed to give Sparrow what help she could. She moved to the streets with the rest of the small group, sighing defeatedly once more. Now she needed to help Sparrow move...at least to maintain some level of usefulness. What a terrible day...even though Sparrow was probably feeling it tens of times worse than she was.

Cilia read Axley's reaction to the barrister as be civil but cold. She could do that. She gave him her best I don't know what to do with you look and quickly went and grabbed a couple things for Sparrow as the group got ready to leave.

There were a couple old books that he looked at often. Since she loved books, he thought she should grab them for him. Next were two knives that Sparrow took from the thug that was attacking Cillia when they met. The ex-monk didn't like people carrying weapons when they did not know how to use properly. Cilia longed to slip them into the sleeve of her dress so she could protect herself, but she couldn't steal them. She should have taken up his offer to learn how to defend herself with a knife. Like many of the women living on the street, he had taught her to scratch, kick, bite, and do other things that would make a man think twice about hurting her. But weapons could be taken away and used against you, the thug had learned that the hard way.

As the group was heading to the door, she showed Master Sparrow what she grabbed. They could come back for more things later.

The mixed reactions were normal, rationalized Fergus. After all, he was there to take away their refuge... then offered help? Suspicions were only natural. Still, Sparrow was nothing but kind and thanked everyone for their support. Following Sparrow out the door and motioning for his two female friends to join them, Fergus commented on something the monk had said. "Metal Road is full of old foundries yes? Forgive me if I am mistaken. I'm not actually from this city and don't know for sure." He didn't fully agree that would be the best place, but it WOULD have at least one unused warehouse they might be able to obtain. And perhaps some of the folks under his care could find work nearby as well.

"I was thinking perhaps near the old university on the northern side of the city. There should be a few sympathetic folks there that could provide more help. And you could take advantage of some of the disused buildings that have not been claimed for years. I'd be happy to walk with you and see if we can find a suitable structure, as it is on my way to to my next case." Fergus felt that he should be open with these folks. Admitting he wanted to help while also heading to his next case might have seemed selfish, but it would preserve his credibility with them.

There was one other reason he suggested the area. "There are also a few inns that you might be able to use for the short term in that area. They are less expensive, as they usually cater to traveling scholars and students of the university. Just an idea, of course."

The group conversed as they walked, and things seemed to remain fairly civil for a time. But then things changed for the worse... for the WORST, some might argue.

A sound just on the edge of hearing caught the attention of the Mnemon barrister. "Hold on. What was that?"


The charge was on to claim the Imperial Ruins. Cackling Harlot and her horde of warriors descended from the eastern foothills and fell upon the city like a tsunami. At their rear came the Juggernaut, lumbering in from the coast. Even from a dozen miles away, its low guttural moan could be heard. It seemed to be a sort of rallying cry for the Harlot's forces, who all yelled out in unison upon hearing it. Harlot herself had begun setting structures ablaze around her, the flames dancing merrily in a macabre ballet of misery and destruction.

Worse yet, the Juggernaut itself began to attack. From its distant vantage, the siege cannons began to fire. Rather than heavy shells of metal and firedust, the impacts seemed to deal minimal initial damage. Instead, lashing tendrils of silvery energy rushed out from the points the shells landed and corroded flesh and stone and metal alike. The sheer scope of the attack made one thing very clear...


In moments, Fergus' outlook had gone from upbeat and hopeful and happy to be helping... to terrified and confused. Though he could not see the damage, he heard the moan of the Juggernaut and saw the shells falling from the sky and landing in the city. Combined with the smoke from the fires that were breaking out, it made obvious what was happening.

It was Fergus who spoke up first among the group as they witnessed the start of another war. "I don't want to worry anyone, but I think our priorities just shifted from finding shelter to survival." ... and then something confirmed his statement. A volley of three shells landed near them. One on a merchant's storehouse, one in a fountain, and another... through the wall of Sparrow's church. The screams were piercing as the silvery tendrils lashed out and began to consume the stone and metal of buildings and the flesh of any unfortunate people close enough to be touched.

At the risk of sounding insensitive, Fergus spoke up again. "We need to leave. Now. If we get caught by those things, we're every bit as d-" he was cut short when the eastern wall and the ceiling of Sparrow's church came crumbling down. "By the dragons..." Fergus froze for a moment, but snapped back to reality when a fleeing man bumped into him and nearly knocked him over. "We need to go!"

Axley could get scary when she was angry. He could already tell that she was utterly miffed. But her willingness to help was what he did this for. People helping people. Its the only way Creation will survive this madness it had become. He sighed happily, "Next pheasant that gets donated has your name written on it. With you and the offered money, we could atleast get a roof over everyone's head."

Cilia put her physical stature to work, already going in and saving what was arguably the most valuable items in all the church. The books themselves were all designed for teaching, through fiction and non fiction about the Blessed Isle, and Creation beyond. It was a wonderful thing to read to the children that called the church home. Give them visions and dreams of travel and wonder. Cilia returned and he nodded. "Good call." He told her, though noticed her other items. He knew those knives. That was an interesting day. He hated weapons but now... "No telling if the next place will be completely safe. Hope we don't need them."

Fergus responded to his suggestion. "Old foundries and a lot of soot... Not exactly the cleanest area." He tried to sound civil, but he was still disappointed. The next statement did have Sparrow stroking his chin. "The university?" He hadn't considered that. He listened intently, though his actions had slowed, as if to give Fergus the lead. "I think... I think this just might work."

People helping people... All will be well.

How wrong he was.

---

He stopped when something became amiss. His smile faded as he closed his eyes, to listen. He heard a rumbling... he heard a cry. He knew that sound. That was a sound of battle. He heard that sound on the Threshold. It brought back chilling awful memories. Then the explosions, the load gutteral moan that sent shelling through the sky, wisps into the air. The ex-monk had seen horrors but these should be miles, thousands of miles away.

It was a Holocaust.

He undid his backpack, ready to free himself to run. "Run. Run get yourselves out of th-" Then three shells, they landed near, too near... "No..." His eyes went wide as the world seemed to slow. One of those... things. It hit the church. The silver wisps it wrung through the windows, out the door, a poor man vanishing into dust as the essence cascaded over him. Snow stood stunned. Tears filled his sapphire eyes, his hand fell over his mouth. His heart and soul died. He knew instantly, not a man woman or child in his home survived...

Fergus snapped him out of it as he looked back. They could see it in his eyes. Snow never cried. This jolly man. This happy hopeful man. It was a look of utter anguish.

A shame he couldn't just die there... No. He was spared. The dragons spared him. He looked at the others.
Three people. He could save at least these three. He slung his pack over his shoulder and his legs moved, his arms outstretched to help Cilia, Axley, turn and run. He'd try to save others... if he could. They were priority.

cilia watched in utter suprise as the shells starting coming. Then with a howl, she let out a cry for the people that died in the church. In shock she tried to turn back to head for the people, but Snow kept her on track and moving away from the shells. The Barrister went up 100 points on her scale. He didn't kill people, he hadn't used them, and he was trying to be nice. As the shells came down, it was clear that who ever was doing this deserved to be on her dislike list.

As they ran, a shell hit her abandoned building. She started to fight them as two walls of the building collapsed from the shock. She left her her dogs dying from the shell and blunt force trauma of the walls. The shock made her numb and she followed the directions of who ever was leading her this way and that without thought. She klung to anything she could as the anger and confusion welled up in her.

Axley would have killed for a pheasant in the moment, but she shook her head and offered Sparrow a smile regardless. "Don't worry about it. I don't exactly make much, but I can at least cook for a little bit. If anything, let me cook the pheasant for everyone else." That was the last interaction Axley had for the time being. She wanted some time to think about the situation she found herself in. The place she had called home when she lacked a place to live or a job to keep her fed was being foreclosed upon for seemingly no good reason, and she couldn't fight the powers that be in the process. What a nasty predicament to find oneself in, truly...

Axley found herself straggling behind the others; she truly had no desire to leave the church, even if the man inside it was leaving it and the convoy had moved on without her. She sighed, turning back to look at it wistfully. It might be the last time she saw it under Sparrow's ownership, after all. Best to cherish the time she spent there and the people who had helped her become a real member of the Ruins' society, instead of just a leech and homeless. And yet here it was, simply being taken away from her. At least the building would still stand; she could perhaps visit every now and then...just to relive old times.

Irony had a funny way of striking quickly and painfully.

"What was that?" She could have sworn the ground had shaken ever so slightly, and the low groan of...what was that? A machine of some kind? She couldn't identify the noise, but she barely even had time to consider that when she watched a strange, silver shell smash directly into the place she held close to her. She wanted to go investigate, but from what little she could see and the screams she could hear, that was most likely a fatal idea. No, someone had come to destroy her home....

Again.

Axley locked up. Was it the mafia? Had they found her somehow? No, that couldn't be...whatever was eating away at the church's insides was...sinister. Definitely too powerful to be the work of a criminal organization some hundreds of miles away. Something else had done this, but the thoughts racing through her head were all the same. Why couldn't she just have something? Her legs wobbled like jelly at the prospect of everything being taken from her a second time. She wanted to run back, protect the church to the very end, but the voices around her all were encouraging her to run, run in the other direction, as fast as she could.

It was something she at least knew she could do.

"Move, move, MOVE!" Axley's panicked cry rang out as she barreled through a group of fleeing citizens to catch back up with everyone else. Her lute bounced on her back as she rushed through the streets as quickly as she possibly could, trying to do anything she could do to escape the oncoming carnage. "F-Follow me, I know the fastest way outta here..." Her home was on the outskirts of the Ruins, which conveniently happened to be on the side of town opposite the direction the shells were coming from. She probably wouldn't have any time to grab anything, but at least it'd get them closer to the end of town and relative safety...

Running away was obviously a good plan, and Fergus made no objections as he followed Axley, Cilia, and Snow. That said, running away without a plan was likely just postponing the inevitable. The shells kept falling. Buildings and people continued to be consumed and destroyed. The groans of the Juggernaut grew louder and louder. Then it happened. Fergus and the unlikely trio he was now fleeing with were retreating across the city and trying to avoid the deadly bombardment, but ground forces were less easy to evade. Three warriors with sickly grey-white skin and wicked curved blades crossed their path, along with a woman in heavy armor who wielded a flaming sword.

"Not far to the remnants of the grid, General. We'll mop up around here while you get it ready for his arrival." The woman gave no verbal response, and simply ran back toward the center of the city. The three men turned their attention to Fergus and the other survivors from the church, and began their approach. Fergus, while far from a warrior himself, had received his share of combat training from House Mnemon. He drew his short blade, but was visibly trembling. This was not training. If he fouled up here, he would be dead.

"Shit shit shit! What do we do?!" cried the barrister mere seconds before the men were upon them. One took a wide swing at Fergus, who barely stepped out of the way. Rather than lose his whole arm, the sleeve of his shirt was very crudely torn and he took a small cut on his bicep. The pain was not immediate, however. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug. In retaliation, Fergus took a stab at the warrior. While his blade atually hit its mark in the foe's side, there was no blood. This caused Fergus to take another step back. Undead. That meant only one thing. Even a man who was not involved in the Scarlet War knew that undead were often a hallmark of a Deathlord. Wait. Could that mean... no. The monstrous roar. Was this going to be a repeat of what happened in Thorns?!

It may have seemed silly, but Fergus took a rock from one of his pouches and hurled it at his opponent's face. It smashed right into the undead's eye, causing him to yell out in anger and pain as the hefty rock did severe damage to his eye. "We need to leave! Now! Follow me! Please, I beg you trust me!" and with that, he fled toaward the northwest. Fergus knew he needed to tell the ruling class in Lord's Crossing about the impending invasion by the Deathlord. If they were informed of the sacking of the Imperial Ruins yet again, perhaps they might take action. But to ensure that, Fergus (and his new friends) needed to recount their tale of survival and escape to House Mnemon and the other noble houses.

They needed to survive. They needed to escape. They needed to live.

He was practically holding Cilia, an arm around the arm of Axley. He made sure they stayed behind Fergus. It might even be out of a desire and a need, a panic to do something, anything. As he ran though, his mind began to enter back into a state of awareness. Adrenaline was pumping through him, and then he remembered his training, his battles on the Threshold. It all came back to him, and how he had to harden his heart and focus on the task at hand.

They got sight of a woman. For a fleeting bleak instant, he saw the Solar that had saved his life so long ago. But this was a twisted reflection. The burning sword was all that was radiant about her. Everything else seemed of malice, cursed and black. The undead, those loathsome creatures against the natural order. He saw them as rotting corpses barely recognizable as human anymore with their weapons. No time to hide, they were noticed.

He released the women, his staff before him as he entered into the five dragon style stance, his front leg forward, back leg bend, the staff held across his body. He waited just a moment "Get behind me~!" He tried to shout but they came at once. Snow knew what to do against a blade, having fought them many a time in the past. He lashed out with his staff, aiming not for the person, but the hand itself. The strike would even if the monster couldnt feel pain, would disrupt their swing. He ducked underneath the swipe, and in a fluid motion, used his leg and staff to trip the creature off his feet, before jumping and spinning the staff raizing back and arching with a jump.

A THWACK hit the creature square in the face, his non existant nose pummeled to gravel, skull shattering against the stones. He took a moment to aid his companions, even as Ferguson edged them ever onward...