Place(s): Cargo Hold, Lorentine Queen
Interactions:Manfred:@Force and Fury, Eun-Ji & Various @Medili, Dorothea @jasbraq, Zarra @BreathOfTheWoof

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Fortunately for her, Eun-ji was quick on the uptake. As crazed as Dorothea was behaving, Carmillia found it hard to believe she'd attempt to shoot through Eun-ji to get to her. Even if such a thing were to occur, the she believed the trained Tan Keoulian would manage to keep her unharmed. She snuck a peek at Dorothea from above Eun-ji's head. Even after being warned by one of the Feskan mages, Dorothea kept her gun pointed at her. It was then that Manfred stepped in and skillfully knocked her out. That's one issue resolved.

As Eun-ji was midway through the conversation with the female Feskan mage, they were interrupted by a scream. It was one of the Traveler agents that the rest of them had dealt with earlier; the female hiding behind the table. A wave of nausea and malaise assaulted her senses as the other agent who had been huddled in the corner, had also seemingly recovered and was charging right at them. I'm taking back my thanks. When The Crimson Hand dealt with such situations, she didn't need to worry about her enemies not being properly incapcitated once the battle was over.

The Feskan mage directed her magics toward the agent hiding behind the table, exploding it. Arcane. Carmillia connected the dots. The two Feskan mages were probably the engine mages.

Eun-ji immediately kicked into gear and was dealing with the agent that had charged at them, leaving Carmillia recover from the internal chemical attack. For some reason, it seemed the attack had only been directed at her, given the Feskan mage and Eun-ji had sprung immediately into battle. Accursed bitch.

She stumbled briefly and braced herself. A nausea blast was a common attack under the internal chemical school. It was essentially the equivalent of an arcane mage using a fireball. Consequently, it was also easily resolved. Employing her own magic, she targeted various centers in her own brain to offset the effects of the nausea and malaise as well as stimulating the production of her own adrenaline. She was back to prime condition within seconds.

She assessed the situation.

Eun-ji was outperforming her adversary which was no surprise to Carmillia, the agents had already lost to them earlier and quickly at that. The two ship mages were dealing with the last agent. Between the two fights, she chose to aid the latter. She knew Eun-ji far better than them and believed her capable in dealing with her own fight. The two ship mages were the main variables. No more gambles.

Straining herself, she made full potential of her meager RAS, launching a revenge internal chemical attack back at the female agent. Carmillia wasn't capable of a nausea blast large enough to be useful and she knew that. That said, as long as one was creative enough, there were a plethora of ways to take use of the internal chemical school.

Vertigo.

Such a spell wouldn't incapacitate the agent on its own but it was a curse to battle under its effects, no matter how mild.

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A loud thud could be heard from the trapdoor leading into the cargo hold. Had Leon been cornered by an opponent in there? Or had he simply found himself locked in? But no other signs of a struggle could be heard following that.

5 seconds pass.

The hatch of the door swings open, and then again, and then again to no accompanying sound. Similarly, Leon Solaire himself popped up in a gracious ta-da from the opening. Then another one did, and another after that, converging on the performer's held pose. And yet, in a strange deviation of character, any noise you would expect from him was drowned out by the surrounding chaos.

The Leons exited the hatch with a jump landing on their feet and began to waltz through the room holding the Lyre in clear view as they pretended to pluck the strings. Each Leon followed the other so closely that the three blurred into one another. Their capes seemed weightless and chaotic as they weren’t beholden to the changes in the wind from various thrown objects and blows. But their movements were incredibly similar, in fact, they were identical aside from being offset milliseconds in time.

To those paying close attention, they would see a marble apparate out of nowhere ahead of him then split into three floating inline upward at a snail's pace, defying any sense of gravity. The marbles start floating upward and back in the direction of the Leons. Eventually, each perfectly landed between their respective Leon’s fingers, as if they hadn’t even tried to catch a marble at all. The Leons were even not looking at the marbles. Instead, they gazed directionlessly out to the chaotic battle with the same plastic smile.

The Leons carried on further in their waltz until an arbitrary point in which they opened their mouths and bit down on the empty air. Soon after, they take an exaggerated inhale before bellowing fire in the direction of Forceful. And yet, it was poorly aimed and off centre from the Traveller’s agent and it didn’t carry any heat as fire would. So aside from the initial shock at seeing the fire, it wouldn’t do anything.

Reaching the entrance to the room, the Leons took a short bow before continuing down the corridor. They continued to move at a constant speed unbothered by the danger around them. Until they passed by Dorothea. The first Leon stopped with the others not too far behind. An expression of concern could be seen on his face and he stopped for a while as if unsure what to do. He began reaching out his hand toward her. But then he shook his head, retreating his hand immediately to continue the dance. The other two Leons did the same as they all continued the waltz out of the corridor.

Just what had happened? One could assume it was all illusory. But an experienced arcane mage would see that none of it (except the flame) was the result of magically conjured light.

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The tiles were the same: worn, patterned sandstone, they passed beneath Jocasta's wheels the same as they had six years ago, same as they had passed beneath her feet, same as they would another six or even sixty years from now, when she was long gone. She nearly smacked into Yalen, so absorbed was she, and she pulled quickly back on her wheels. For his part, the monk jumped like a scared animal.

Normally, Jocasta would have had to stifle a snicker at that, but he looked so genuinely spooked for a moment that she didn't find it amusing. She managed a quick apology as last night's actions came flooding back to her. She'd killed Gutierrez. A shiver ran down her spine. She'd killed ninety-two people so far, but none had ever been so personal. It had been six years since she'd looked a man in the eyes as he'd died. Murder was very much an abstract thing for Jocasta. Could Yalen know something? She'd fixed her eyes ahead to avoid any further near-collisions, but they slid uneasily in his direction. Would she have to kill him? She did not want to. He was a religious fool, but a good person. Her world started to seem a little bit colder.

The others were in various states of walking, most of them rather quiet. It was Kaspar's and Ysilla's default state. Zarina was nowhere to be seen. Yalen remained oddly silent, though, like a frightened animal, and for a moment, it made her want to hurt him. What are you all vulnerable and timid looking for? Who pissed in your porridge, you little bitch? She knitted her brows together, took a breath, and decided that the thought had been unnecessarily mean. Still, a deep kind of anxiety settled in the pit of her stomach, right down close to where her feeling ended, to where she wouldn't be able to feel anything in a couple of years' time. Jocasta didn't want to think about that. Death was inevitable. Her clock was ticking, and it ticked so much faster than the others'. Gods, she hated this place. She hated the oil lanterns that hung on their chains from the ceiling, the pale greyish-yellow of the colonnades and tiles, the way the heat rolled in from the desert in waves that distorted the air. She could breathe in the dust: that same smell she had known as a child. She did not want to be here. 'Here' was a place that should not have existed and, even if she destroyed it all, she knew that she could not heal the damage that it had done to her and a thousand other people.

Ayla looked lonely and needy, though perhaps it was just the Tethered girl projecting her own weaknesses onto the Torragonese. She was small and sweet, though, and Jocasta made an effort to come up beside her and take her hand. Wordlessly, she flashed a little smile and knitted her fingers into her teammate's.

Their morning meeting was a mundane enough affair at first, but it shed some light on where the aberration might be. It's far. She'd reached out for it and hadn't sensed it. She was sure that the Warden had already had his people reach for it too, but he wasn't about to risk his cash cows out in the desert. Somehow, his call for help had reached the Paradigm, and quickly. The bigger questions, quite frankly, were just what an aberration of that size was doing way out in the desert and how on Sipenta the Warden planned to dispose of it. More likely that he was hoping some animals would take it in and their group would dispose of the animals. Let them suffer for human failures. She gritted her teeth and, it seemed, was gritting them forevermore after that. With each lie and dismissive remark from the Warden, her anger grew, tempered only by the fact that they genuinely did not seem to suspect that Gutierrez was dead, much less that she'd done it. She had only Yalen to worry about, potentially, and if he did know, the fact that he hadn't said anything yet meant that he likely wouldn't until confronting her. She would tell him the truth, then. She would see how righteous his religion truly was. If he accepted the necessity of what she'd done, then there would be no problem. If he didn't, then she might be able to live with herself should she have to do what she did not want to.

Jocasta did not enjoy breakfast. The very smell of the churros reminded her of her breakfasts with the previous Warden: that sugary sweetness to cover up the rot. On the wall, the stupid clock ticked away and she hated it. The others probed after useless things, but Jocasta was already on thin ice. She was six years older, there were few staff left from back then, and she had changed her hair colour and skin tone. One might mistake her now for for a fair Kerreman, Eskandish, or southern Perrenchwoman as opposed to the swarthy Dorvalish that she was. Still, she did not want to draw any more attention to herself than the great deal already drawn by the mere fact that she was Tethered.

Then, as matters were wrapping up, Ayla asked Marceline for a tour. The girl's eyes darted awkwardly in Jocasta's direction and the older Tethered gave a tiny nod. They'd been planning to meet. If Father truly had an ally here, then perhaps they could move forward. Alas, it was not to be... for now. A tour...chatting and smiling with the others. That was something that Jocasta did not want and could not do, but to be on her own in this place...



Pushing off smoothly, she rolled down the colonnade, a gentle breeze whistling past her ears. It was muscle memory: she could navigate this place blindly if she needed to. All of those blissful childhood games of tag amid the plants and pillars, until running became harder, and then even walking and she had to become an observer. Those nights spent wandering the grounds, having slipped out after curfew. The secret training sessions in the outer compound and the way she'd linger before and after.
She was decaying, but this place was unchanging.

Jocasta had just made it down the short ramp into the courtyard, when she spotted one of the magpies who laundered the bed sheets. Avoiding a small barrier and some bushes, she made haste across the packed dirt. "Hola. ¿Hay alguien llamado Amanda aquí?"*¹ she asked in her best Torragonese. The caretaker looked at her uncertainly for a moment. "Amanda," the Tethered clarified. "Ella sería un cero si todavía estuviera aquí."*²

The woman's eyes narrowed. "¿Tú... no eres un residente aquí?"*³

Jocasta's heart skipped a beat. "No. Sólo estoy de visita"*⁴

"Ah, sí, sí. Amanda..." There was an extended pause as the caretaker considered. "Ella es un poco mayor", she replied. "No sé si está viva con certeza, pero estaba en... la habitación 304 en el área de Zeroes la última vez que la vi".*⁵

Room 304. That was one of the ones with a courtyard view. She started to back away. "Muchas gracias!" she replied, turning and wheeling off. Why was Jocasta doing this, again? Why was she so bent on ruining everything just for some emotional satisfaction. Yet... it was hardly something she could pass up. Amanda was eleven years her senior. When she'd first arrived, it had been into the older girl's strong, comforting arms. When she'd left, it had been sudden, just as the first serious numbness had started to spread through her mentor's hands and she'd been struggling with the impending end of her active role.

Jocasta hurried up the ramp and from one covered colonnade to the next, grabbing corner pillars and swinging herself around them to keep up her speed as she turned. A part of her dreaded what she would see. If Amanda still lived, she would be near the end, and the end was not pretty. Still, it had lingered with her how she had just left without saying goodbye. It hadn't been intentional. It hadn't been planned, but the feeling of having betrayed an elder sister was not something that she felt good about. Plus, she needed some wisdom. Amanda had always been wise, or perhaps Jocasta had just been a child. She did not know but chose to believe the former.

Arriving at the Torre de la Soledad, hairs began to prickle down the back or her neck and arms. A tall, squarish citadel made of reddish-yellow sandstone, it seemed more fortress than residence, here in its own corner of the refuge. Meekly, Jocasta rolled up to the gate. It was unlocked during the day, though none but caretakers ever really went in or out. After the first year or so, where people came to visit and talk with them, keeping them apprised of the refuge's daily happenings, the Zeros were inevitably forgotten.











Then, the door was closed and Jocasta sat in the middle of a hallway. She estimated she had been about an hour in all and had perhaps half that left: just enough time to rush to her room and grab a few things, relieve herself, and take an orange from Pulpo Viejo before meeting with the others. She found her direction and rolled briskly down the hallway. The desert beckoned and, with it, the hope that they could set things right.

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Summary: Yalen didn't sleep well and spends breakfast acting like he sees dead people. He has some new leg braces to replace his cane for the time being, but he still walks kind of funny. He has separated from the group to keep a kid named Rita company at the swimming pool.

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After entering what Zarra has dubbed the "Greyborn dimension" there's a large flash of light, Zarra is entirely taken off-guard and he feels ears and eyes suddenly shut-down for a moment. Developing one of worst migraines he's ever experienced in his life in an instant. Just when he thought he would cry out in anguish, it was gone, and his senses became clear again. Obviously, this has never happened before. Maybe he was slightly too slow, and one of the chemical mages messed with his neurotrasmitters. The idea of that is scary to him, he'll have to be careful this time around.

Despite the strange attack no longer effecting him, what he watches does little to fix his feeling of being overwhelmed. Eun-Ji and Carmilla being engaged by the enemy. Dorothea is holding an actual gun to the one person who can't even defend herself. The arcane mages, the last people he wanted to see, are now in the fray, and Leon is entirely gone. As this is going down, he sees a piece of exploded table shoot at him, despite being intangible, he instinctively dives away. He stops himself midlanding, facepalming himself for forgetting something so simple. As Zarra considers what to do in this situation, under the effects of analysis paralysis, Manfred shows up to the rescue and subdues Dory.

He observes Eun-Ji and one of the villains fighting mano-a-mano, with each giving each other very little to work with in terms of openings, Zarra admits he's impressed with their foot work, almost forgetting that they're fighting for their lives. Does the guy even know he's there? Does he have the element of surprise here? He guesses there's only one way to find out.

The young noble materializes behind Forceful, not realizing the irony of what he's about to do. Summoning what kinetic force into his leg he can within as little time as possible, Zarra dishonorably attempts to kick the male Kinetic mage between the legs from behind with the ball of his foot.

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The fight continued on. With the Arcane Mages in an uneasy alliance with them, things were slowly but surely turning in favor of the students; at least in so far as defeating the Traveler's agents were concerned. As for the Lyre, that will be a complication of its own to handle. Obviously enough, it will be very unlikely for these temporary allies of theirs to appreciate it if the students were to try to take the Lyre for themselves. As for the moment though, the battle took priority for all sides involved.

Slightly away from the center of the fight itself, within the corridor, a tense situation were defused by the decisive action of Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau. It was not a decision he made lightly, but as painful as it was, something he believed will be for the best in the end. With one smooth and precise strike of his hand, he knocked his own lover out. It was done so skillfully that Dory only had a split second to feel a sharp pain on her neck before passing out cold, going limp with the gun she aimed at Carmillia falling from her hand. Fortunately it did not went off as it fell and clattered on the wooden floors of the corridor, and now with her unconscious figure being held by Manfred, one of the crisis faced by the team had been solved.

Of course, there will likely be a lot to solve later on a personal level between the individuals involved in causing Dory to be so distressed that she took such an extreme action, but it will be most wise to keep that for later indeed.

Surprised, Jens Becker von Magdeburg stopped in his tracks as he watched Manfred knock Dory out cold. He observed them both for a moment, not entirely sure yet that this wasn't a ploy to fool him. This doubt was erased as Manfred looked him straight in the eyes, telling him that his intervention is not required. Whether it be because of his own instinct or the way Manfred conducted himself or both, Jens Becker surmised that this was no trick, and that the gun-holding girl had truly been knocked out cold by the man before him. "Very well..." he said simply as he raised both hands briefly and nodded at Manfred before backing off.

Evanescence continued with her assault, shifting her focus on Hilde. She had pegged Carmillia as the least of the threat due to how helpless she looked, and thus believed that her Internal Chemical attack on the Perrench women will be enough to take her out of the fight. That was soon proven to be a mistake. Just as she was about to launch a more powerful Internal Chemical carnage on Hilde, she felt a sudden bout of vertigo affecting her. "What the-?" she muttered as she shook her head. Unsurprisingly, she quickly identified it for what it was; an Internal Chemical magic affecting herself. Just as quickly, she worked on purging the effects from her system while her eyes searched for the perpetrator, finding her gaze landing back on Carmillia. She frowned in anger, hissing.

"Oh you little bit-" was all that Evanescence managed to spout out of her mouth before a powerful explosion of heat struck her squarely on the torso. The brief time of distraction caused by Carmillia was more than enough for Hilde to build up and fire off an explosion of sufficient intensity against Evanescence, throwing her back violently as she slammed to the wall at the other end of the room. The Traveler agent slumped to the floors face first, the scent of burnt fabric and flesh emanating from her. Hilde watched on for a brief moment. When Evanescence didn't rise back up, she let out a satisfied huff and looked over at Carmillia, nodding her head in approval. "Much appreciated, young lady. I think that solved that annoying little problem, hmm?"

The last bout of action within the room came from the pair of Kineticists continuing to engage in intense contest of both martial prowess and Kinetic Magic expertise. For the latter, Forceful proved able to match his opponent, each performing a rapid series of drawing and casting of Kinetic enhancements one after another to keep the empowered physical fights going. For the former however, the Traveler agent realized rather quickly that he was out of his depth. He was trained in Kastäng pretty well. He liked to think of himself as a pretty good practitioner of the martial arts, even. Still, it wasn't enough. Not compared to the degree of training that his Tan Keoulian opponent had received. And thus, he continued finding himself being slowly but surely overpowered despite his significantly more imposing stature.

The last hammer that ended up deciding the bout, however, came not from Eun-Ji but from her allies whom both had a penchant for chaos.

A sudden thud from the trapdoor, followed by 5 seconds of silence. Of this, neither Eun-Ji nor Forceful particularly paid much attention to. They noticed the noise of course, but knew that taking their focus off of their respective opponent was not a wise thing to do. It was what happened afterwards that finally caused them to disengage, separated several meters apart from one another as they looked at the trapdoor to the cargo hold opening once. Then twice. Then thrice. Silently. And to make things even more bizarre, the great performer Leon Solaire came out of the Cargo Hold the same numbers of time. Again, silently.

It looked to be a blessing for Forceful who were about to be completely overwhelmed before all of it happened. Both Eun-Ji and Forceful kept their focus on each other while also watching the bizarre occurrence happening in front of their eyes. Eun-Ji quirked an eyebrow up slightly. It was obvious to her that this must be some sort of illusion performed by her comrade. And yet, it was also definitely not a typical form of illusion.

At first, it was mostly only Eun-Ji and Forceful that were witnesses to the strange show. That changed when the three Leons started waltzing through the room, each holding an instance of the Lyre in their grasps that they seemed to pretend to pluck. "HEY!" Forceful shouted loudly. "The Lyre! He's got the Lyre!"

At this, everyone's attention were caught, including the Arcane Mages. Hilde's eyes widened in surprise. She recognized who Leon was due to his fame, but she couldn't quite understand why there were three Leon Solaires and why they were all holding the Lyres. Forceful hesitated to give chase as the Leons continued to stride through the room, each one making exactly the same set of movements as one another, separated only by about half a second each. He was wary that the moment he moved, Eun-Ji will immediately react to take him down. Yet he knew he needed to make a decision; with Evanescence seemingly downed by Hilde with Carmillia's help, it was all up to him to secure the Lyre for the Traveler.

It was not easy for him however, as the magical show made him doubt his own sight, if not his sanity. What the heck is the deal with the marble? What in hells is happening here?? puzzled the Kineticist in his mind. Am I the only one seeing all these? Did someone messed with my mind? As Forceful was contemplating all of it, the Leons then 'attacked' him with a poorly aimed blast of fire. By reflex, he jumped back, not immediately realizing that no heat can be felt from the flame.

Eun-Ji immediately took advantage of Forceful's reaction towards Leon's fake fire; she can immediately identify them as nothing more than Arcane illusion. Thus she sprinted right through the fire, enhanced by Kinetic magic and ready to finish the fight with a fatal stab from her dagger. In that moment, Forceful realized his mistake, eyes widened as he looked upon the death rapidly approaching him.

A split second later, he found out that death felt quite different from what he was expecting. He most definitely didn't expect it to be so painful to his pair of cojones. In reality, what he felt was not death for him but for several billions of his precious life seeds that just got killed by extreme blunt trauma induced by Kinetic-enhanced kick, courtesy of the Greyborn that had reappeared behind him. While it was doubtlessly unlucky for his microscopic brothers, it can be argued that this ended up being lucky for Forceful himself, as Zarra's sudden reappearance surprised even Eun-Ji for just a split second.

"AEEEEEEEEEGHH!" her opponent shouted in agonizing pain as his hands flew to his own nether regions. It was cut short when Eun-Ji delivered a Kinetic-empowered jab to his neck. The surprise from Zarra's reappearance and the sudden shift in Forceful's posture, brief as it was, had caused her to reflexively struck Forceful with her empty left hand instead of the dagger in her right hand. Forceful slumped down, still holding his pulverized man-sacks, knocked out cold but alive. Lucky for him. Eun-Ji blinked once, looking down at her knocked out opponent and then at Zarra. She nodded politely at the Greyborn after another second of silence as a sign that she appreciated the assistance regardless of whether it was actually necessary or not. The result was still that the opponent was out of the fight, and that was good for them all.

"After him!" a shout from Hilde suddenly sounded through the air. She didn't understand what the Leons were doing, but when she saw that he continued to dance away with the Lyre in his hands, she simply couldn't take the risk of allowing it. It was part of her job to protect the cargo hold and the items within it, and she'd be damned to let someone take off with part of the cargo, even if that person was Leon Solaire(s) himself. Hilde didn't wait for the others to move, immediately taking off to chase after the Leons. Jens Becker did the same after hearing his comrade shouted, racing after the Leons as they ran through the corridor.

Thus once more, as if practically his natural calling to be the center of attention, all eyes were on to the famed performer and his magical show. Except there were three of him this time, each holding a Lyre and all doing exactly the same moves separated by about half a second each as they reached the other end of the corridor...

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Ysilla had laid in the quiet of her room. She had felt tired before but now having the chance to rest, she could not. Sleep required an invitation, but it never could arrive when she wanted it too. For awhile, the Virangish teen lay with her eyes closed only taking moments to peer through slits at the sound of stirring. She swore she heard someone stirring outside and she glanced to the door. Khamsei and Hoopoe sharing the foot of the bed, facing the door acting as sentries. It... was more a ritual than anything else to place them in such a manner. They wouldn't provide any security despite 'watching' the door.

Whoever was outside, Ysilla decided not to investigate opting to return to closing her eyes. Sleep was finally knocking but the dreams were quick to follow.

A feminine voice sang softly, no more than a mere whisper. She carried a tune but her voice croaked with strain and the melody sounded sad. There was a longing in melody, a want for something. Ysilla couldn't see her, the picture was dark as if she had her eyes closed. As if she were somewhere else.

The language was Virganish and as Ysilla heard more, the woman sounded familiar. Whoever the singer was, it was like she had known her for a very long time. There was a strange longing, like she felt she was being pulled towards the singer's voice.

Suddenly there was a sting in her chest, like a needle had pierced her flesh. Ysilla clenched her teeth and thrashed, at least she thought she did but no matter how much her mind played her movement, her body did not stir. Was she strapped down? Encased magically? She needed to open her eyes.

A sharper pain in her chest flared. This was no longer a pinprick but now she was being sliced open. She wanted to open her mouth and scream but it didn't shift, not even her vocal chords could wail in agony. Could she do anything?

Concentrate. Concentrate. Ysilla heard those words stir in her mind. She had to find out where she was. Find out what she needed to do to break free. It took everything, fighting the anguish of the various pricks and cuts to her chest tearing her apart, but she managed to move. Her eyelids lifted, light rushing in and she could see.

The woman, singing still as hovered over her chest. Ysilla couldn't see herself, aside from the pale skin of her nose but she could see the woman, focused intently on whatever she was doing to her chest for a moment before she froze. The other woman shifted, the length of her hat coming to block the light and shade Ysilla's gaze. Her hat. Before she could study anything else a soft set of fingers touched her eyelids, gently closing them. Ysilla couldn't see the woman anymore as her song continued for one more line.

Ysilla awoke with a gasp. She clutched at the fabric covering her chest as she jolted up. Her breathing intense as she glanced around the room. It was just her, back in the Refuge. Nobody was here. Save for Khamsei and Hoopoe who were watching her wake with a fright. Their lifeless eyes seemed to peer focus on her and as she recovered from her reoccurring dream. She always had nightmares but this was the first that actually brought fright. The gaze of those unflinching eyes of her puppets weren't bringing comfort like they did in her room. Her own gaze shifted to her hat that sat in the corner of the room. Why had she seen that in her dream? The girl from last night? She wondered...

Movement outside. People were waking and moving on. She had to as well.

She dressed and stashed Khamsei and Hoopoe in their spots. She had new clothes but her hat and cloak were kept, maintaining that iconic look. Stepping out into the sunlit pavilion, the puppeteer would skulk silently following some of her companions to breakfast.

She didn't eat. Not much, anyway. She had each of the items offered but only a single bite-sized portion of each as if she were sampling them. The cooking was adequate for what it was. This wasn't a place of taste as a segregated colony in a danger strewn desert. They wouldn't be able to bring in spices and more exotic ingredients like the cities of Torragon but the Torragonese cuisine was always Ysilla's favorite outside of some of Virangish specialties.

Discussions at breakfast were dull proceedings. They talked business and any topics away from that were deflected by this table's conversational dictator. Bored, Ysilla sat still and slowly panned from each of her dining companions, watching what they ate and how they ate. Maybe if they reacted a certain way to whatever was being talked about. While the intention was innocent enough, her still and seemingly unblinking certainly came off with a different energy.

We don’t need to fill the minds of children with nightmares

Ysilla perked up. Her nightmare, as cumbersome as it was during sleep, at least offered an insight into what people were like. What did they fear enough to consider it a nightmare? She panned back to warden, patiently waiting to interject with her own question.

"Warden, indulge me. Perchance do you have any nightmares?" She asked plainly like it was an everyday question. If he denied or refused, he was lying. Ysilla wouldn't follow that up, knowing that regardless of his reaction, she would know more about what the warden was like.

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@YummyYummy

With breakfast ended. Ysilla wondered off on her own. She walked quietly through the grounds, watching the children and the guards go about their usual days. She got a lot of stares back but few approached her, noting that the children might have been instructed to avoid them. A lie by the warden that they could see the children tomorrow. Ysilla wasn't going to cause an issue on that matter yet. She was distracted with something else.

In her mind, there was an inkling of something she wanted to see but couldn't place it. The presence of this nagging desire was bothering her. Last night when she arrived at the Refuge, it was there, but this morning? It was like the thought vanished. Someone had something she wanted to see? But who and what? Her mind began to hurt and slipping a hand from under her cloak to her temple. She rubbed in a circular movement, eyes closed trying let that nagging feeling fall away.

When there was some relief, Ysilla used her exposed hand and lifted up her hat to let Hoopoe out. The wooden bird cawed and took off in a low hover circling Ysilla as she paced over to a wall where she could lean against. She'd sit there and watch as Hoopoe would turn and fly off. The bird airing itself out as it surveyed the Refuge now with the light of day to get the full layout. Ysilla could see through Hoopoe's eyes through a bit of complexity with chemical magic. It stirred her own mind to dream of what Hoopoe was actually seeing. The process was difficult to maintain but very, very useful.

The static entity of the Refuge, the buildings and the like, were swiftly taken into account before Ysilla started to focus on the movement. People. It took work to focus on them after building the image of the landscape but she'd be able to watch people from Hoopoe's point of view. There were the children and guards, even her companions moving about. She watched for awhile before witnessing her sister break away towards the stables. She recognized what that meant.

Opening her eyes, she snapped her attention back herself, slightly dizzy from the effort. Hoopoe would descend as Ysilla started heading for the stables. The wooden bird would arrive first, flying through the window and perching herself on the windowsill, announcing the arrival with a loud squawk. It would be seconds after that Ysilla would step inside the stable.

She stood at the doorway for a moment but didn't give her sister a chance to break the silence first. "You always flee towards animals when anger is at the forefront." She said plainly in their native tongue. "Tragically predictable. You ought to consider that."

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She came to on a beach, gazing up at the star-filled sky. For a moment, there was only peace, and Penny was happy. A crab skittered along somewhere close to her head and the waves heaved in and out at her foot. Then, she felt the aches and pains and it all came flooding back to her: being knocked out in a sneak attack, the throbbing pain in her head, the temporary blindness, darkness, and abduction. She'd cast off the chemical magic and fought her way out. She winced and moaned as she tried to take a deep breath. This is what broken ribs feel like, the Perrenchwoman thought. She lay there for a moment, giggling stupidly, but it hurt. She'd never broken a bone in her life. She'd barely even gotten a scrape. Climbed a rocky shore? Fought someone to the death? Her heart pounded at the thought of it. It was crazy: bloody and violent and terrifying, but she'd done it: thrown her strength against a half-dozen hardened cutthroats and overcome them all. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dying in the sand. She found herself strangely compelled to pray.


Penny managed a deeper breath and, with great pain, forced herself to sit up. The glove over her weird hand was tattered and one of her fingers was broken. Her ankle was twisted and her right triceps howled in agony when she tried to move it. There were scuffs, scrapes, and lacerations everywhere she looked. The youth closed her eyes and drew from her surroundings, finding ample energy. This, she applied first to her ankle and her finger, but she was dazed and the effort was clumsy. She let the rest slip and her ribs and triceps remained a source of pain. Again, she reached out, this time gripping the small medallion of Dami's Hammer that she'd worn for this mission. Scrapes healed over, soft and pinkish. Lacerations closed themselves, and the tear in her muscles eased somewhat. It was then that Penny heard the distant voices of what she could only assume were more members of the crew that had tried to kidnap her. Pushing off, she rose to her foot and cast about for her crutch. Dammit! she cursed inwardly. All of the Gift in the world but she was far too dependent upon a stupid stick for basic mobility.

Straining into the distance, Penny spotted something bobbing in the water. Gingerly, she hopped a few steps forward and recognized it for what it was. Taking another painful breath, she stretched out with Kinetic Magic and called it forth from the waves. It arced through the air and snapped straight into her hand. The waves were such a source of power that she continued to draw from them, concentrating as she converted their energy into binding. This, she used to reinforce the bones of her ribcage and the pain began to fade. She took a deep cautious breath. Good enough. There remained yet a painful bruise on her legless hip and a pinch in her right arm, but she was well enough to function and that's what was important.

Peering off into the darkness, Penny couldn't make much sense of anything. It was an unusually black night: only one moon was up, and she still felt a bit woozy. She stumbled around for a bit, searching for some clue, and found herself wandering further up the beach. Then, she saw them: footprints. They were the distinctive mark of a foot and a crutch on sand and they could only be hers. They stretched off into the distance and she now knew a way out. She started to walk.



There was the expected treasure: gold, spices, medicines, and valuable stones. About to leave, the Perrenchwoman paused. There was a midsized lockbox, shoved off in a corner, conspicuous only in its pointed inconspicuousness. Creeping up to it, she drew from the lock mechanism using binding magic and it shattered. She took a moment to apply some of the repurposed matter in healing her arm and her stump. She rolled and flexed the latter and propped the former on her crutch handle. Inside the lockbox, however, lay only disappointment: an old lamp and nothing more. It was the simple kind too, with only a candle and some old-style glass: a Chune Lamp, people called it, for that's how the Seeker of Knowledge's holy symbol was always portrayed. Penny thought about bringing it along. Wouldn't it be something if that was the actual Lantern of Chune? She shook her head to clear it, rolled her eyes, and decided that it was probably time to get out of here.

Before she could make it more than a couple of steps, however, the sound of approaching footsteps threw her into a near-panic. Penny darted into a darkened alcove and held her breath. "Coulda sworn I heard somethin'," one of the pirates insisted. The other's eyes swept the room. "Aye, I think she doubled back, sneaky lil' wench." They were talking about her! They were onto her! A cold, prickly shot of adrenaline shuddered through her veins. If these two spotted her, even if they shared their suspicions with other members of the crew, it could be very bad. They would come swarming for her by the dozens and she could not hope to fight them all off. I'm sorry, she thought, but you have to die.

Rising up behind them, the Blood Mage pulled with all of her might. The two men disintegrated, heads first, and she watched them die. Immediately, she hunched over, hands on her knee, and swallowed back the bile rising in the back of her throat. Those were someone's children, she thought, maybe someone's fathers. Holy shit! She stood uneasily and gulped a couple of times. Magic power coursed through her veins and she used it conjure some light, doing a final sweep of the caves, that lantern still nagging at the back of her mind. It began to dawn on the one-legged woman, then, that she was playing a very dangerous game. It was time to get out of here. Making haste, she darted out of the cave, glancing about as she went. With the coast looking clear, Penny took a couple of steps, but then she was falling. The world spun and she hit the ground with a painful smack. Her lip split and her vision blurred. The journal tumbled away to the edge of the water, its pages getting wet, and she lay there, stunned, her crutch clattering on the rocks.

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Penny drew, then, with everything that she could, from the stone of the grotto itself. Rock began to crackle and a couple of large chunks plummeted from the ceiling to land with a splash. Shouts echoed through the dimness and people scrambled about. Up above, cracks began to form and the youth's stomach went cold. Too much! Driven by desperation and adrenaline, she turned the repurposed energy into Kinetic and rocketed out the channel, past great crumbling pillars of stone. A small section of the grotto outright collapsed, but she was past it, riding the wave. She found herself bobbing up and down beside her crutch in the cold dark waters of the ocean. Another moon had risen and it was brighter now. The lantern and journal hovering above her head in a kinetic grasp, she continued to tread water for a moment. You're no fish, stupid, she chided herself, making for shore.

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Amelia could sense the noose tightening. She had neither the time nor the energy for it. These people were a threat in their own right. Ingrid, whose life she'd saved, was eyeing her the way a dog eyed a steak on the table. Desmond's hand upon her was... far more threatening than comforting. He was trying to hide some kind of signal behind his back. She'd almost missed it, but she'd grown up around hidden meanings and whispered messages. She shrugged him off and backed away. Her eyes darted warily about. "You're all about to turn on me, aren't you?" she said defiantly, backing away. "But you're... not Prospero's people," she thought aloud, eyes wide and brow furrowed. She glanced about at the corpses and then back at the threatening group. "...They were." She stood there for a moment, haunted. "...How?" she practically mouthed. Amelia paced tightly then, a few steps each way before remembering that she was not among friends. "Tell me, honestly," she demanded, whirling to look at Desmond. "Were you truly sent to rescue me, and by whom?"

"We are from Ersand'Enise. We were sent here by Paradigm Hunghorasz to do three things-" Desmond stepped forward with a cold expression, losing all trace of emotion, much more like a mask as he spoke in a calm and commanding tone, seeming to hide a growing sense of anger, "-rescue Princes Amelea of Segona, retrieve the possible artifact the Maria Nera has, and kill the Captain."

As he stepped forward he looked down on her, only his eyes breaking his mask-like expression, as they seemed to relay every emotion he felt. He continued, "We lost one of our people, another one is confirmed dead, and I have not trusted you since the moment I met you. So you tell me how I would react?"

"Goddammit, now's not the time! she shouted, rubbing at her temples and half turning. "I mean: yes. Yes, I lied. I thought you were lying. I know my uncle - Prospero, that throne-stealing slimy eel - has friends at the school. At first, I thought you were just some useful idiot who might be an ally, but once you said you were from there and it was too late to just run, and I thought you were working for him, for sure. I was going to lose you in the city - fake my own death. I had... people who were going to distract you." She pulled her hands back from her face nervously, opening and clasping them, as if she didn't quite know what to do. "Oh Gods, oh Dami, oh Eshiran!" She pivoted to take them all in. "I have been less than forthright. I apologize. Truly, I'm sorry, but there is still a chance to salvage the situation," she continued desperately. She took a deep quick breath and exhaled. "My uncle, Prospero Malatesta, was to be my regent after my father and brother died. I was ten. You know the rest. He took over. He rules Segona like it's an extension of his realm: another source of people and plunder for his war machine."

Her face was flushed. Anybody who reached out to sense her energy could plainly feel the heightened pulse within her. "Maybe you have heard that I'm called 'The Ghost' by some. It is because I lived the past fourteen years under house arrest, except for when I was to be trotted out for the odd function. Godsdammit!" she cursed. "I escaped a few months ago. I came here because it was beyond the reach of the law, beyond the reach of his many, many friends... or so I thought." She shook her head, as Onarr was healed behind them and cleanup efforts continued. "My goal was to recruit loyal Segonese - we're good sailors - and to start building a resistance. It was to free myself, win back my throne, and free my people." She shook her head tightly, wrapping arms around her small figure.

"But the bastard knew, or he found out." She sighed shakily. "When he couldn't find me, thanks to my friends here, he decided to use my name." Her fists clenched open and closed. "The Maria Nera is not my ship," she hissed. "But that she were: what I could do with her!" She breathed a bit more calmly. "She is a fabrication of the Doge: a false flag creweed by his own people meant to make me an outlaw and a danger so that he can justify eliminating me without being named kinslayer." She laughed bitterly. "Ever question why the Nera sinks all the ships that she catches? Why nobody but the most loyal Revidians have ever seen her? Why every. single. target. is Revidian?" Her face scrunched up and she half-turned towards the waterfront, off in the direction of The Main. "Ask the Dorvalish, if you don't believe me." she begged, "Ask them about the registry of the ships that went missing: all Prospero's ships and his friends' ships. Ask them about the prices of goods that soared from the thefts, about who stocked up on those right before the ships were 'plundered' and 'sunk'."

Dazed, she sat on a curb. "Gods, we've been played. All of us: you, me, my allies." She exhaled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Hugo Hunghorasz and the Doge are friend, or else they pretend to be, at arm's length, for the sake of mutual interest." She chewed on her lower lip nervously. "You were sent to retrieve me so that I would poke my head out of hiding. He had his people ready to pounce. News travels very quickly here." She gestured at the carnage around them, silhouetted against the backdrop of a slowly lightening sky. "Then we have this fight and the evil rotten crew of the 'Nera' - myself and you - lay waste to the town and prove that I need to be stopped. We were supposed to have lost to those Black Rezaindians Prospero sent, I imagine: those men and women of faith, sent to bring me to justice." She looked up at the others. "We're patsies, she said simply. "He outplayed us, and now I'm sure the Nera will be coming, loaded with whatever Black Rezaindians, pirates, and mercenary mages his money can muster."

Amelia of Segona rose and dusted herself off. "I am going to fight them, one way or another, with or without you. She backed away once more, fishing a whistle from the folds of her dress and blowing it in a distinct high-pitched pattern. The sound reverberated through the air, enhanced by liberal use of sonic magic. "But I will die," the princess concluded, "by my own hand if need be - for I will not let anymore shed blood for me unless they offer it freely. I will die before I let you take me."

They shuffled into the plaza by the waterfront, then: first a handful, then ten, then dozens. Some had already been there, among the growing crowd, among the rescuers and accusers. They began to gather around their rightful queen. "But there is another way," she offered. "I know I've no right to ask you, but I can promise rich reward should we win the day." She smirked. "The Nera's winnings are substantial indeed, and whatever does not go to fund our war effort would be yours to do whatever you wished with."

It was Ismette who spoke first. "Say we do trust you," she said. "And get involved in your war." She glanced between Amelia and her fellow students. "How is this not a suicide mission? Why not run? Cut your losses, get safe, and live to fight another day? I mean..." She glanced around and tilted her head to one side, not entirely unsympathetic. "You don't even have a ship."

"That's... not strictly true," said a particularly greasy-looking pirate, stepping through the crowd. It was Xavier Falzon, the Dorvalish pirate from The Main. He crossed his arms, eyes flicking over to Ingrid and Onarr. "Sorry for rippin' yeh off before. Thought you was against the Princess here." He cleared his throat as a few more of his crew came up behind him. "I'd have preferred not to, but the Nera's market manipluation's gotta stop. Plus, I gave Lady Amelia my word and Xavier Falzon is a man who... usually keeps that." He removed his hat and bowed his head slightly. St. Elmo's Fyre is at your service, my lady."

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She wasn't so occupied with healing Onarr that she wasn't able to also take in the conversation that was happening mere feet from her. It confirmed more or less what she had suspected, though the details differed. Basics remained the same however: Princess discontent with her lot flees to the pirate island in order to escape from under the thumb of her uncle's tyrannical rule. The biggest surprise was mostly just the fact that she had no connection to the Maria Nera itself.

Not that it mattered. Thrones passed hands all the time. She decries her uncle's cruel war-mongering yet she herself speaks largely of war. Each ruler uses the same language, speaking with passion and appealing to the crowd's pathos. In the end regardless of whether she reclaims the throne or her uncle marches on the world will continue on, unflinching as history churns forth.

Trypano looked on at her and her plea for them to aid them with an expression that was plain and simply unimpressed. While her normal expression was flat and unemotive this feeling definitely bled through her calm mask, an expression that looked as though she hadn't slept for days but she wasn't any less well rested. Plain and simply put their team bumbled into a flat out ambush which could have easily been avoided had they not outed themselves immediately, all to rescue someone who was only in danger thanks to them.

_
She cared not for the causes of royalty nor the promise of wealth. Two of theirs were dead, one more obviously so than the other. At least, that's what she thought. As soon as cannon fire rang out in the distance it alerted her to the presence of several ships out amidst the waters. Yelling through kinetic magic was Penny, previously MIA.

Oh good. Looks like while everyone else has been failing to maintain cover or make any decisive tracks towards finding the artifact Penny was off on her own doing a significant lot more it seems.

Trypano placed her left index and middle finger against her carotid artery she scanned herself for magical tampering. She believed her growing irritation had a fairly self-evident origin but it never hurt to confirm by eliminating the possibility of outside interference. She quickly checked her patterns on a material, chemical and even bio-electrical scale, ensuring that they were all operating as expected, no anomalous patterns occurring within.

"Now that her attempted abductors are slain one of our three tasks is complete. Only the retrieval of the artifact and the slaying of the captain remain. The latter is optional."

With that said she began walking away, looking out onto the scene of the battle and inexplicably moving towards the water's edge.

"Do not tarry lest we incur more casualties."

_
And just like that she began to descend into the ocean, one measured step at a time, not even bothering to look at those she was speaking to before her head disappeared beneath the waves. Now underwater it was time to get to work. She started drawing the water in front of her while creating water behind her in a manner not dissimilar to her movement through the ground. She was able to move fairly quickly through the water, much faster even than she was through solid earth. As she neared Penny's ship she drew a circular hole through the side, right where she was about to enter.

In a smooth motion the water forced her through the hole she had created, sliding across the floorboards as water splashed in after her. Now inside she simply turned and sealed the hole she had created, a flat mesh of wood fibers sealing off her entrance aboard the ship.

With a light splatting of her wet feet she ascended from the belly of the ship, moist step after step, until she was upon the deck. It was not an unfamiliar place to her, the deck of a boat. She walked with firm confidence, as though she owned the very vessel she stood upon. She cast her stone cold gaze upon their previously missing teammate, head held high and eyes fixed upon her with an analytical stare.

"Debrief me. Short version."

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Interacting with - @Force and Fury,@Th3King0fChaos,@dragonpiece & @Bork Lazer

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As Penny witnessed the strange girl's approach, her heart started crawling up her throat for a moment. You made a hole in my ship! she screamed inwardly, stalking towards the stairs where Tyrpano emerged. But then the hole was sealed and she knew, as a Binder herself, that it had been a fairly easy thing to do. What irked her was the tone, the entitled body language - the lording of her height - and the near-glare. It reminded Penny of the way that her mother had always addressed her and spawned an instant and intense reactionary dislike.

"Oh, hello to you too," the Perrenchwoman shot back. "You want a summary?" She tilted her head to one side, the tricorn hat nearly sliding loose. She had to keep this professional. Besides, people had been looking down on her for entire life. This one wasn't any different. She sighed. "It's a dynastic struggle. Just... played out through piracy. Amelia owns the Nera and she's using it to hit back at the Doge." She shrugged. "I avoided the Doge's Breeches because-"that's just nasty. Who'd wanna go into a Doge's breeches? She sensed that her teammate was a being bereft of humour, however, and skipped the joke. "A pair of Perrenchwomen walking into a Revidian stronghold and asking questions about attacks on Revidian ships when the two countries are on the brink of war is just daft." Penny waved dismissively. "Tried to convince Wvysen and only got silence. She's a big girl and can make her own poor decisions. I saw tracks along the shore, went to check them out, and got kidnapped." she continued. "Long story short, I broke out and did some snooping along the way. Killed a few pirates before they could kill me and stole a couple ships in my escape. Not sure how I'm not dead. Just kept going and here I am." She hobbled to the side and plucked the journal off of a stool. "Got her journal: just sitting out there to be had. It's an awful read." She arched an eyebrow. "But a very convenient piece of evidence." Penny plunked it back down and motioned with her chin beneath the stool. "There was that lantern too. I thought it could be Chune-Sept's, since I know that we were briefed on an artifact. It's probably just an old lantern or a decoy at best, but it didn't hurt to grab, just in case." She tilted her head again. "That's my side. What's yours? Long version. They're taking their sweet time ashore anyway."

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Location: Isla d'Amato

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Interactions:

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Ingrid listened to the princess's speech. Ingrid had heard so many boastful speeches of war recently that it just feels unoriginal. Spinning this to really be about the rightful ruler and painting your side as righteous was a classic. They were classic for a reason, they worked. Ingrid felt herself being moved by it slightly. Amelia's speech was reminiscent of some of the books Ingrid read as a child. Ooh! I wonder if she has read the True King of the South? Or maybe the Oriflamme Epic. Such good reads. As these warm feelings washed over Ingrid, she continued to clear the debris.

Ingrid's mind was on where Penny might be. With the sky lightening with the approaching day, Ingrid should be able to make out landmarks to look for her. Whatever the case they need to at least confirm if she is alive or not. Ingrid shuttered at the thought of what pirates might do to a captured girl. Well whatever, I need to finish clearing the debris before I can go look. There are probably more people trapped in the rubble. Ingrid took a look around, she would be here for a long time if she kept holding back. Now that she knows that the princess wasn't going to try to kill them at the moment, Ingrid could finally use her telekinesis fully.

It was mere moments after Ingrid started, A loud crack rippled in the air. It sounded like canons, Ingrid turned her head to prepare for battle but instead was met with the amplified voice of Penny! Ingrid felt a great deal of relief seeing she was alive. The 2 ships were surprising, to say the least. Where could she have gotten them Ingrid pondered for but a moment before returning to debris clearing now more at ease with one less dead teammate. I'm sure Penny is going to have a hell of a story to tell us. Ingrid went back to cleaning up the rubble.

As Ingrid got deeper into the rubble of the storehouse, the injuries got more severe. The most she could do was cauterize some of the injuries. They would need medical attention from an actual doctor. Then Ingrid finally uncovered someone who had already died. Ingrid paused. She had been removing debris when she came across what looked to be one of the beams that she blew up in the previous fight. As Ingrid the shards of wood she came across the mangled corpse of a young boy, maybe 13 if Ingrid were to guess. Ingrid seemed to shut down. That momentary relief of not having to fight the princess and Penny being alive no longer mattered. The sight of the body sent her into a haze. She kept cleaning the rubble when now she overcame an injured woman trying to get into what seemed like a crushed dresser even as the rubble covered her. She screamed over something about her child. Ingrid's blood ran cold. She didn't want to see what she had done but she had to. The sight was revolting. Her stomach turned and twisted and she felt horrid.

In another show of power, Ingrid began to draw in more energy than normal. She didn't want to be here she needed space. The rubble moved quickly overhead and was stacked in the growing pile. The Injured were moved to a separate area out of the way. Ingrid broke away to take a moment in the alley to try to calm herself. It wasn't long until she was spewing the alcohol she had drunk earlier trying to make a deal with Captain Xavier Falzon. Some tears were shed over what she had done. Ingrid wasn't trying to process her thoughts, more like expel them for the moment while the mission was still going. Ingrid will be there for a few minutes.

Kaspar shut the door behind him, listening to the sounds of his companions fading into the distance, hopefully off to their own rooms for the night. Feelings had been tugging at him since Jocasta had first talked about the nature of the refuge, but they’d been shoved down and away—as emotions always were, for one who was dangerous without that control.

The lightest sting in his palms returned, and the boy glanced down at them for the first time since they’d entered the refuge. The skin was scraped, though not severely so—it was still more than he’d hurt himself in years, and he cursed his lack of control. Something about this place made him feel vulnerable and weak—emotional, in a way he couldn’t allow himself to be.

He started toward the bath and then stopped, heaving out a breath. His muscles itched and he felt like he couldn’t stand still, like he was shaking. He grabbed at his dark brown hair, red eyes squeezing shut, and tried to breath deeply into his chest. He had a mission to do, for fuck’s sake—he couldn’t be this weak. Besides, this reaction would spark curiosity and questions. Maybe not all of his companions would notice, but some were far too sharp—and might be all too willing to use something they learned. No one else could know that he wasn’t Kaspar Elstrøm von Wentoft.

At that, something in his mind grabbed back violently and he jerked away like he’d been hit.

You are Kaspar. You’ve always been Kaspar. There is no one else.

He sucked in another stuttered breath, eyes snapping open, and realized he’d fallen back against the tub, crouching on the floor with his face between his knees like a toddler. He couldn’t find it in him to care much for decorum, letting himself slide down until he sat against the floor.

He needed to sketch. Sketching was what calmed him, what could tame these emotions and put them back into the locked box where they belonged. He’d not brought supplies, but the boy reached for anything nearby that could be remade into charcoal—drawing away at the nearby materials and, perhaps, at flesh. As the utensil materialized in his hands, Kaspar had the epiphany that trying to make anything else in such a state could leave him very injured and very lacking in deniability.

He glanced up, looking for a desk or some manner of paper.

His eyes found the wall first. It was flat enough, and plain enough. Charcoal was not so picky as ink.

The boy stood, stalking swiftly to the wall with a stick of charcoal clutched in his fingers. He put it to stone, hand sketching a rough line. He wasn’t even sure what he was creating until the first large, arcing line of a shell became apparent.

The halassa took shape one line at a time on the rough wall, the boy pacing back and forth fervently. At some point he grew too hot, bunching the ends of his sleeves up the elbow, but before long the fabric around the joints became too much for him to bear, and he hastily pulled off the vest and tunic alike, ignoring the prints of charcoal against the fabrics. The pale skin of his bared back glistened with sweat as he worked at the sketch, mind honing into the fine point he craved.

The face came last. He stared at the empty space in the center of this rapidly sketched piece, and his mind kept blinking to the designs—was it meant to have eyes dribbling down its cheeks, or to be choking on its own blood? Perhaps the neck was to be turned at an awkward angle, or no face at all but a gory hole where one had been, once.

He never thought of the peaceful face of the one Yalen had killed with internal chemistry.

Finally, it was a dark and smudged handprint that formed the face as he dragged his palm and spread fingers against the stone, ignoring the pain against the scraped flesh. There was enough charcoal left on the skin to coat it as he dropped the darkened nub that had served him. The boy stepped back, breathing more easily than he had since the door had closed.

For minutes he stood stock-still, taking in the messy sketch with little thought to the manner of cleaning it. Finally, wiping sweat from his brow, he noticed the black stains on his hands. He let out one humorless bark of laughter before stumbling back towards the bath, fumbling to kick the sand-filled boots off his feet.

The water was cold now, and he shivered as he lowered himself into it. The soap was not hard to locate—he noted that the bar seemed to be fresh, but was missing an uneven chunk. He tried to push down the shame of that moment and rubbed it against the skin of his hands, watching the charcoal slowly turn the water dark. Despite the chill of the bath, he found his energy draining and tiredness overtaking him down to the very bone.

He saw his parents in the dream that found him. Not the Marquis and his wife, but Ehren and Lark Weber. They looked just as they had when he was eight, young and lively and filled with joy in parenthood. He and his father were playing some simple game, sitting cross-legged on the floor and trying to tap each other on the hands, laughing the whole while.

It was Lark’s screams that pitched above his own childlike giggles, snapping the boy’s attention behind him towards the sound. She stared at him, horror in her eyes. Scared, and confused, he turned back to his father for help and—

Red.

His hands and wrists, and the floor all around him, painted in the dark crimson of fresh-spilled blood. It was icy cold and crawled up his arms as Alaric screamed, trying to scramble back from it to no avail. It climbed up and up, over his elbow and up the flesh of his arm, across the shoulder, prickling and cold against his skin all the way. Across his throat and up under his chin, passing his lips and flooding into his wide-opened mouth and reaching for the nostrils—

Kaspar woke, coughing icy water back into the tub and nearly dry-heaving. He shivered, breathing clean air and shaking his wet hair from his eyes. The boy couldn’t tell the hour, but knew he should’ve been asleep long ago—in a bed, perhaps.

He pushed himself out of the tub, arms weak but mostly clean, and shuffled toward the bed. Practically falling into it, no care for the water droplets still clinging to him, the boy wrapped himself in every available blanket, willing away the cold of the water and his mind.

He fell back into sleep, and did not dream again.

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Kaspar would seem stoic to any who looked at him over breakfast, but it was not unusual for the boy. If there was something darker to the silence, shadowing over him, it would be difficult to notice. He was tired, but that much had to be expected after the night he and his companions had experienced.

He had more than his fill of coffee, hoping the liquid would breathe something like life back into him, and picked at most of what was brought out for the meal. He glanced at his classmates, keeping an eye on their conversations, but lacked the motivation to chip in anything—even though one of them was Ayla, the cheerful girl who seemed to be the only one he stayed around.

His plate was nearly empty when the warden began talking, but Kaspar watched the man passively and continued to chew at his Pan Con Tomate, offering up neither questions nor suggestions. Something in him disliked this man, but the student couldn’t tell if it was for specific actions and the way he spoke to Marceline, or for the knowledge Jocasta had given them about the refuge—there was certainly no love in him for a man who allowed such things to happen.

But the Warden’s visit was blessedly short-lived, and Kaspar found himself pulled along behind his classmates on a tour of the facilities. While he did not have much personal interest in the tour, it would provide distraction enough for his mind and allow him to assess the state of the refuge and those living within it.

He noted, as Zarina drew attention to the priest, that Yalen seemed even more lacking in sleep than Kaspar. With a stab of pity, he wondered what nightmares could’ve visited him in the night—and decided, a moment later, that he’d rather not know. Kaspar’s own demons were enough to deal with. But he kept an eye on the fellow student, when he could—he might be impartial to emotions, but the red-eyed boy was not heartless.

Yet as the tour went on, the group dwindled with surprising urgency—Jocasta wheeling off to some task of her own and Yalen disappearing to aid a child. Ysilla seemed to be missing entirely, and Kaspar hadn’t quite noticed her departure following breakfast. He hung behind his classmates and Marceline, listening quietly to the conversation as it turned toward the tree they were nearing.

(Also found in YummyYummy’s “Morning before the Mission”)

As his feet shuffled back across the courtyard toward Ayla, Zarina, and Marceline, Kaspar finally caught onto the body language. He realized, moments before he stumbled back into it, that he was approaching what seemed to be a heated argument. He stopped, uncertain, and stared wide-eyed as Marceline turned and began to storm away. As he processed the last of her words, trying to make sense of where things may have gone wrong, it was Ayla’s angry voice that resounded next.

Kaspar felt like a child witnessing his parents argue, standing mere steps away as they shouted and thoroughly unsure as to whether he should still be here, listening. It was Zarina’s response when he truly began to make sense of the words, bodily flinching as she mentioned the tree—though it was unlikely either of them would notice, caught up in their disagreement.

As she turned and left, Kaspar was at a loss to see the tour ended so quickly—and in such poor spirits. For the moment, it seemed Ayla was the only other student left. The red-eyed boy stood unmoving, half-raised hand still coated in juice and stinging. He blinked slowly at her, unsure whether he should announce his presence, or perhaps offer some support or comfort… Or simply turn and leave, and pretend he’d not witnessed the heated exchange.

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They saddled up at the gatehouse and it was telling that the animals the small convoy mounted were camels and not horses. Lingering in some minds as they gazed out across the desolate terrain may have been the Warden's response to Ysilla's strange question from a few hours earlier. "Everyday," he had said, narrowing his flinty eyes, "I have nightmares of this place being consumed: swallowed by the shifting sands of los Páramos Sin Fin."*¹ He had shaken his head and his voice had lowered. "You do not know it like I do, girl. I pray you never will." He had moved on quickly.

It was near to midday as they set off, canopies above their heads, a couple of supply animals loaded down mostly with water. A distant breeze undulated across the shallow dunes, ghostly waves of sand writhing in its embrace. When it reached the group of ten - for Marceline, two guards, and a quiet, leathery-skinned ranger named Escarra were with them - it did not provide any relief. Hot air blasted them and they were forced to shield their eyes and clasp their lips shut until Jocasta drew from the desert and forced its winds to swirl around rather than through them.

As they ventured further into the desert, the midday sun beat down on them and Escarra stopped to check his map more than once, consulting with the guards or Marceline. The latter smiled and nodding, pointing this way or that, clearly happy to be out of the Refuge or perhaps to be in his company. The ranger, for his part, said few things once he had finished teaching some who had never ridden a camel before how to do it. He perched upon his camel like a lizard on a rock: barely moving at all but seeming to see everything. Occasionally, he would call out with a word or a hand gesture to marshal them to stay close. Given his taciturn nature, understated competence, and what they had already seen of this place, there was little argument.

The swirling sands gave way to something rockier, as outcroppings rose into the burning sun. Sips from flasks were stolen at increasing opportunity and animals were spotted here and there in the distance, particularly halassa. Marceline explained with great enthusiasm that windier days like this one were idea for them, as many smaller animals preferred to shelter or spent time shoring up their burrows and nests. It was easy hunting should they seek meet and there were more roots exposed should they have favoured that.

It wasn't long before the group's first encounter, and it was a harrowing one. As a set of low cliffs and hoodoos rose up around them, a pack of five halassa started to come uncomfortably close. These were driven off twice by Escarra and once by one of the guards. Then, one made a grab for one of the baggage camels and the crack of a rifle echoed through the dry air. Spooked, the giant tortoises backed off, only to begin doubling back some thirty seconds later. There were five of them and it would not be a pleasant fight. "Be ready," Marceline warned the others, and a few of them started to gather their magic. Escarra held a hand out in a placating gesture, however, and they saw him pull out his rifle. To his lips, he brought the whistle hanging from a colourful string around his neck.

The halassa came closer and he blew a strange, deep note on it. Frozen for a second, the lead beast took a bullet perhaps an inch above one of its eyes. It grunted and snorted, flinching belatedy, and the entire pack scampered off into the desert. "Missed your shot, old man," teased one of the guards: a young guy with a large nose and a resting smirk.

Escarra shook his head and spat. "I didn't." They continued into the heart of los Páramos Sin Fin and the winds picked up further. The grizzled ranger pointed in the direction of some shallow cliffs and the convoy turned to follow his lead. "Hey Manuel!" called Marceline, "Are we gonna stop up there?"

Escarra nodded.

Taking that as a cue, the guard who'd teased him spurred his mount on and took the lead. "Exploraré por delante."*² The senior ranger clucked his tongue and those closest to him could see his face tighten, but he said nothing.

Moments later, the lead guard and his camel went still. From around a small rise came a great angry snort. They had mere seconds to react before a Rhinodon came charging out. The foolish young guard who'd drawn its ire at least managed to save himself, but the angry herbivore continued its charge, forcing people to dodge or dive away. Even Zarina's attempts to calm it did nothing, and it skidded to a stop, turned, and began lining itself up for another charge.

It didn't follow through, however. Sniffing the air, it flicked its ears and its tail back and forth, before trotting briskly away. "The hoodoos!" shouted Escarra, "now!" and he coaxed his camel into a gallop. In the distance, what had seemed a large hazy ridge revealed itself as the leading edge of a sizable sandstorm. It gained on them with frightening speed, but they had enough of a lead that they reached the hoodoos, slipped in through a small gap, and were able to hunker down and ride out what ended up being a rather brief storm.

Interestingly, the winds had revealed ruins among the cliffs, built right into them and it was in the shade of these that they took an early afternoon meal - not deep inside, though, Escarra had warned, for there were a great many animals that liked to live in places such as that, and it was their domain now.

Some people talked as they ate, and Marceline joined them belatedy, unable to walk without assistance and the Gift in the deep sand. The two guards played a card game, and Jocasta disappeared into a darkened room for a few minutes before returning and joining her peers. Escarra, meanwhile, sat off to the side, separate from the others but not entirely inaccessible to them. He spent most of his time cleaning his rifle and checking his equipment. His eyes scanned the area twice every minute and he ate mostly without chewing.

"We ride two and a half more hours," the ranger said as they remounted their camels. "If we don't find it, it's not in this direction." The sun was now no longer directly overhead. It was towards the latter half of Oraff's hours and the sand, where it was not cloaked in shadow, positively boiled. Wrapped in desert whites, they could feel the heat rising from below. Those whose feet yet lived found it leeching up through their shoes.

They had been on the move again for scarcely more than five minutes when Jocasta and Marceline exchanged a look. The former rode towards the back of the group in a modified saddle, useless legs strapped to her animal, and the latter paced her. The two women looked to Yalen, who could yet ride normally, but all three tethered seemed to have a moment of agreement. "I can feel it," announced the youngest of the trio, moving up closer to the head of the pack. She pointed further down the canyon. "Not sure exactly how far." She glanced back towards Jocasta and the older girl took a moment to catch up. "About...uh... eight miles away," she decided, and Escarra scowled, brow furrowed in momentary thought. "Then we go," he announced. "On the return, no dinner." Suiting words to action, he coaxed some more speed out of his camel, and the group pressed forward.

The ruins faded from view and their world became the blue sky above, the greyish-gold sand below, and the steady rhythmic rocking of their mounts. To either side stretched increasingly imposing canyon walls and, occasionally, they would sight some animal scampering about. Most unnerving by far were the froabasses that roosted along the top. They had thus far managed to avoid any unpleasant encounters with the beasts, but the twenty to thirty foot dragons were known to be voracious predators. "Into Ejiran's throat we go," murmured the older of the guards as a pair of them circled on the thermals overhead. He made the Sign of the Pentad.

Yet it was not the froabasses that troubled them. Two more hours and one quick water break passed in uneasy anticipation and they drew ever nearer to the aberration that was their goal. Once again, the Tethered were first to feel something and Jocasta leaned in towards their guide. "There is a wyrm," she told Escarra quietly, eyes sliding over to the others.

He nodded, unpanicked. "How far?"

"About a mile," she warned. "It was inert before. It has awoken."

"The storm," he replied, "has stirred up the animals. It hunts."

Marceline appeared beside them. "Uhhh, there's a sand wyrm," she warned. Jocasta twisted and nodded. "We know. It isn't headed toward us yet. Go tell the others."

Escarra's eyes peered out through folds of white cloth, searching for something. He twisted in his saddle. then, after a moment, he raised his arm and pointed to an area some two to three hundred yards ahead where the cliffs tumbled down into the sand and there was ample rocky ground. The group began making their way and the progress was good. Everyone had gotten to be at last competent in riding by this point, and none questioned the instructions that had kept them alive to this juncture.

Then the sand moved.

Everybody froze for a moment, and the ranger held up a fist, demanding complete stillness. Necks craned hesitantly, waiting to see if it would come their way, but fate's dice refused to take their part today and, with a great tremor the sands of la Garganta del Ejiran*³ quivered. One of the camels in the baggage train panicked and began to gallop off in a different direction. "Go!" shouted Escarra, "Go now!"

A wave of sand built behind them and they set their camels on a gallop, the beasts' instincts doing most of the work. The wave gained but Zarina was not with them. Reaching out with words and, perhaps, the Gift, she brought the stray camel back down from its panic and hurried to catch up with the others. One by one, they reached the safety of the rocks, some with perhaps only a couple tens of yards to spare. The Sand Wyrm barely slowed at the lost opportunity, plowing forward in the shallow sand, and carving a great furrow behind it. It was lost upon nobody that the aberration was less than a mile distant and the enormous sand dragon was headed straight for it.

"Don Escarra!" shouted the younger guard, "We have to stop it!"

"If it takes in the aberración," added the other, "Who knows what-"

"Shut up!" the ranger snapped, and it was jarring to hear him speak that way, so calm and steady had he been up to now. He gave the signal for complete quiet. His eyes were looking up.

Already, six or seven froabasses were in the sky, and more were joining them every moment, clacking and circling overhead. As the group watched, a pod of hibernating Sand Cows, their burrow revealed by the wyrm's path, began to stir. One of the froabases came streaking in like a comet and plowed into the sand not ten yards from the sheltering convoy. A great cloud was kicked up in the struggle and there were flashes of the dragon thrashing its prey about.

Then, came the chittering screech of a dozen more of the beasts and they hit the sand like meteors, roaring, snapping, and feeding in a blood-crazed frenzy.

It was too much for the camels. In the immediate presence of a nearby predator, they panicked and bolted, an instinct to hug the cliff walls (where the froabasses could not swoop down on them) and run taking over. Only Escarra and Zarina managed to control theirs. Everyone else was exposed, and the results were grisly. First it was the older guard, ripped from his mount, struggling and screaming, and then the younger. He cried out for his mother and was torn in two as a second froabas came. The camels fared better, but not by much. One from the baggage train and one of the guards' met bloody ends, and it was chaos: all chaos. People attacked with what they could of the Gift. A couple were thrown by their mounts. Kaspar's was snatched out from under him and the Helbahnishman avoided death by perhaps inches, slamming it with a barrier and hurling himself into the sand.

All around, the dragons flapped and swarmed. There must've been more than two dozen. Magic speared more than one from the sky, or hammered them on the ground, but the beasts were durable, quick, and had some mana of their own, making many of the tactics that the students had employed the previous evening against the mad halassa unusable.

Zarina hit on something else, though. As Escarra was controlling his camel, galloping about in a spiral pattern meant to distract the froabasses and shooting at them, one took notice and hurtled directly at him. Then, it pulled back. The closest half-dozen of the beasts did the same, tearing meat away from dead sand cows, camels, humans, and their own kin, satisfied with their meals. For a moment, it looked like the Virangishwoman had saved them.

Then, the rest of the flock sensed weakness. Plunging down from every direction they came: nearly twenty of the beasts. Escarra kept firing, praying loudly in an unknown language as he went, but even his pinpoint accuracy did little. It seemed time for the students to make peace with their gods.

The froabases went still: frozen unnaturally in place. Sound deadened and one could not even hear his own breath. The very sky itself seemed to grow darker for a moment. Then, they saw it: Jocasta. The tethered girl rose into the air, hair writhing around her like golden snakes. Energy flooded into her small body like water spiraling down a drain. Escarra collapsed into the sand, wretching. Marceline staggered and fell. The pressure was immense! So much energy! It built in people's heads. It hammered their stomachs and organs: ungodly, unnatural!

Their schoolmate trembled, drawing still more. Beads of sweat stained her skin and clothes. Her eyes grew bloodshot. Then, the energy changed. It was... more like what they had felt in the Paradigm's tower: a strange, forbidden magic. They blinked, or perhaps they did not, and the froabases were gone: gone as if they had never even been there.

A cool breeze swept the sands and whistled along the cliffs. Jocasta dropped to the ground, limp, with a light a thud. The sun burned in the sky with all of its usual vigour.

Marceline struggled to her knees, hurrying over with the assistance of the Gift. Jocasta lay partially face down, crumpled in something like the fetal position, but she was breathing. Croucching in the lengthening shadows, the others turned her over. "I tried to get the wyrm," she rasped, "but I couldn't. The froabasses are... nine miles from here, with their food. They won't be bothering us anymore." She blinked a couple of times, clearly woozy, and tried to sit up, but she needed help to do it. With a quick, brusque thanks, she brushed the hands away. "We need to stop the wyrm. It's headed for the aberration. If it gets there..." She paused. A dark look had crossed Marceline's face. Kneeling in the sand, she knit and unknit her fingers and shook her head tightly. "I cannot sense the aberration anymore," she squeaked, looking to Yalen for confirmation. "I fear we are too late."

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Place(s): Cargo Hold/Corridor, Lorentine Queen
Interactions: Manfred:@Force and Fury, Leon Solaire(s) @Jumbus Eun-Ji & Various @Medili, Dorothea @jasbraq, Zarra @BreathOfTheWoof

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Carmillia watched as the the force of the explosion launch the female agent several meters away. The loud thud that came from her smashing into the wall was extremely satisfying. If not for the current situation and the watching eyes, Carmillia would have loved to physically continue the beatdown on her unconscious body and more. Count yourself lucky that's all you had to deal with.

"Much appreciated, young lady. I think that solved that annoying little problem, hmm?"

"Yes, you have," responded Carmillia with an approving nod.

With their adversary down, Carmillia and the arcane mage watched as Eun-ji took on the remaining agent. Though she kept it from showing, Carmillia was reeling inwardly from the aftereffects of overdrawing. At the moment, she wasn't capable of launching any internal chemical magic strong enough to impact the fight. Likewise, the arcane mage refrained from interfering as Eun-ji and the agent were locked in close combat. If she intervened, Eun-ji could get in the crossfire. That said, it didn't seem like any help was necessary as they watched Eun-ji slowly but surely overwhelming her opponent.

With her awareness peaking from both the adrenaline and her own mental focus, Carmillia did not miss the thud coming from the trapdoor. She noticed Leon, or Leons, the moment they appeared from below. The Lyre!

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of the Leons waltzing about with the Lyre, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of the situation at hand. It was entirely a Leon thing to do. He truly was a wild card. With the exception of herself, Leon was the next ideal member of their team to have possession of the Lyre. Her foresight with Dorothea had been a miss but it looked like it had been accurate with the performer.

She reran over her schemes in her head, making plans on how to sway Leon onto her side and how to get him to agree to keeping the Lyre for themselves. Even when Zarra made his reappearance and the subsequent howls of pain from the agent, she paid them little notice. Her attention was on the Lyre. She watched as the Leons exited the cargo hold and continued down the corridor.

Even before the arcane mage had yelled "After him!", Carmillia was already on the move. She sidestepped and strode passed the gawking male arcane mage, Manfred and the now unconscious Dorothea. As she approached the Leons, she hesitated briefly. She had no idea if the magic he was employing was some sort of trap based spell that triggered upon contact.

"Leon, stop!"

She grabbed onto their shoulders.

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Location: Isla d'Amato near the water

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Interactions/Mentions: Onarr @Bork Lazer, Trypano @A Lowly Wretch, Ingrid @dragonpiece, Amelea, Ismet'ych'lahin'dichora, and the others nearby @Force and Fury

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Desmond listened to the princess as she spoke, and he was honestly dumbfounded. At this point, Desmond had about enough of this whole situation. He is found in the middle of a political struggle, a king trying to secure his thrown through any means, a princess trying to free herself and her people from his grasp. This little shadow game between a nation, the school, and the church, honestly Desmond about had enough. He was not paid enough…'Wait, I'm not even being paid!! I was promised not a damn thing for all of this. No money, no promise of education, hell why would I care what that old man could show me? What can he do for me?

Desmond began to rub the back of his head as he looked down, he seemed like he was beyond irritated, he has had the most annoying night humanly possible. He had to deal with a very annoying situation from the very beginning, a political game that he had no clue about because he had zero clue about any of the political push and pull that was occurring. He is in a pirate's paradise with every corner seeming to have someone either willing to gut you or a pirate. And for some reason, Desmond is always being set up with missions that have no guaranteed reward, and right now he has to either choose between letting the princess go off and cut his own losses or decide to fight to try and ensure her survival. Yet the most annoying thing of this all is that Desmond decided to accept another mission without any guarantee of a reward. As he looked around and listened to the Princess talk he began to watch as many different people seem to almost appear from the crowd that was appearing answering the call she made to them.

As the princess continued she asked for their assistance, with the promise of rewards if they are victorious. There would be quite a bit of reward, some to go to their war and whatever is left is to be given to them. Desmond looked away as he clicked his tongue and almost seemed upset, someone finally promised him something, but now it is to face off against what would be mostly mages, pirates, and mercenaries. He ground his teeth as now they were being compensated, yet they were going to be tasked on a suicide mission. They had no ship, and whatever they could scrounge up would probably be second-rate at best. Yet it seemed like another one of Desmond's excuses were dashed, as a pirate appeared who says they were loyal to Amelea and offered his ship and crew to her war.

Desmond thought for a moment as when he was about to talk about their missing teammate, almost like clockwork he heard cannon fire. He whipped around and looked out to see two ships, one pulling the other as he heard the voice of a very familiar person, "Penny". Desmond felt almost relieved, almost. Desmond stood there and waved nonchalantly to her as it seemed Trypano was done with the conversation as she left in a hurry. Desmond sighed as he realized this might be a fight they need to take. Desmond took a breath in as he was about to say something, that was until he felt a draw of energy that made him almost sick. His head turned to Ingrid as he saw the flying rubble and then her run into an alley, as that was when he knew she found something she shouldn't have. She found the death she caused. He wished if she left it alone, yet she was more than determined to do it, she had a decent heart to her, so having such things happen can easily break someone. Injuring their very being as they now had to deal with the idea of innocent death. Desmond looked to the others as he says, "We'll need to talk with the rest of our crew, so please give me a moment". As once he said that he made his way to Ingrid, he needed to make sure she was okay, having someone going crazy now would be too much for them to handle now.

As he made his way to the alley he saw Ingrid puking up what seemed to mostly be liquids. She must have had been mostly alcohol because of how late they were called to the Forked Tower for the Bastard Magician's game to take these missions. Desmond looked to her and saw she was mostly naked, with only small bits of cloth covering the most important bits, she must have not thought of it through the intensity of the combat and the things following after. Desmond moved over to where she is and took off his coat and tossed it over her as she was hunched over. He leaned against the wall as he took his hat off as well and tossed it onto her head while he took out his water skin and took a swig from it before holding it out to her and saying, "I know it hurts. But if we don't do what we have to now, then we will never be able to atone". Desmond did not look to her with sympathy, he looked as if he had a neutral face, one that seemed to almost never be held on his face, it had no smirk, no grin, but it was also no mask it just seemed like he was getting tired himself and took it off.

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Part: Prior to Meeting Point | Collab: Kaspar @Wolfieh

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Part: Rest at the Ruins | Collab: Yalen @pantothenic

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Part: Journey back to Refuge | Collab: Zarina @YummyYummy

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Next: It is time to meet Amanda...

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With Ysilla gone, Zarina could return to caring for the beasts she thought would be their trusted steeds for the next venture in the desert. The sunrays from the window Hoopoe had come from had since thinned, indicating the sun had moved a bit since she had last checked. It was nearly time, and hopefully the staff had the steed ready for them in the next minutes or so. A few more things were packed, notably her two blades and a second gourd containing a nice mix of the refuge’s coffee and the goat milk that had been freshly taken from the livestock. A Café au Lait. Finally, a very brief morning prayer– it wasn’t too unusual to get it done quickly, as few were morning people, and they were not in a place of worship. When Zarina walked out to meet the party, it would not be the guards and the head of the expedition that took her attention, but the animals.

”Camels. Huh.”

She remarked, eyeing one of them that she would claim as her’s, ”Then a long journey is to be expected?” she inquired out loud, to see which one of the three unknowns would step up and present potential plans. It would likely be Escarra in this case, a man that definitely looked the part of a veteran desert ranger. All the while, she slid her hand over the snout of the tall breast, immediately letting the relatively young but strong male take a good sniff of her scent and grow used to her touch. Similar to a horse, it seemed to be more intrigued to see if there was food in her palm, flapping its lips a little over it before returning to its docile state, looking around and awaiting its rider’s orders, ”What’s your name, handsome guy, hmmm?” the camel’s neck got a couple of pats before she walked to the side and eventually hopped onto its back between the humps. Clearly she had rode one before, ”Daoud. That’s your name, okay?”



The caravan was to set off, and Zarina’s experience as a horse rider made it easy for her to adapt and steer the camel to her liking, although she abstained from pushing it before a calm pace. It was also a habit of her’s to keep to the back, especially with inexperienced troop members and supply animals, ”That’s right, Yalen. Nice ‘n’ steady.” she called out to the young priest with a grin, ”Hold the reins tight, but don’t pull unless you wanna stop, yeah?” it looks like she had regained some vigour after spending some ‘alone’ time.

Their first hurdle: The Halassa. Well, as much of a hurdle as they were the previous night. Zarina was ready to act, but the squad leader had his way of dealing with it. A method she approved of quite a bit and took note of the means to efficiently scare off these big beasts. But the real jump in adrenaline came with a Rhinodon of all things charging right for them. Why? It was anybody’s guess, but one would suspect it could be from invading some territory if it wasn’t madness. Without any comment on it being the latter, she started to manoeuvre her camel to steer clear of any path the angered beast would take. The fact that some of her peers were not too experienced with riding, however, prompted her to step up in this mini-crisis.

”Hey!” she called out, tapping the sides of Daoud with the soles of her boots to prompt a trop and maybe even a canter if it came to it. The Virangish girl even whistled to get the Rhino’s attention, but it seemed tunnel visioned. It didn’t help that riding a camel at such speeds for the first time stressed Zarina a tad, but she did her best to at least help her teammates not get run over by the bulky creature. Luckily, or maybe the contrary, a storm seemed to hit them minutes after this issue had occurred. A wall of sand was coming onto them, and it was enough to have the horned animal to cease its assault and seek safety. The group did the same in a mountain of sorts, taking refuge until it subsided just moments later. No casualties so far.

When they emerged, an interesting sight came about from the residue of the storm: Ruins! Architecture Zarina didn’t recognize, although she did not think too much of it either. What took priority in her mind was a little break to eat and drink with plenty of shading to be had in these forgotten stone buildings. The animals were parked and given some feed, with Zarina lagging behind to ensure all was good with Daoud.



They were back on the hot sands, marching forward to a destination she could not see. The break was soothing, if not jam-packed with conflicting feelings that plagued Zarina’s restless mind. The fact that she still hadn’t gotten some shut-eye was weighing on her, even if her mood was kept in check with other positive stimuli. The more her mind got hazy, the more the unsettling thoughts came to be.

Jocasta …

The ‘On Two’ Tethered of the group. A mysterious one that had so far merely been a light risk of emotional breakdown, but now a whole new angle was provided. Zarina kept at the back and could have a good look at everyone, and she narrowed her eyes onto the blonde first. What was it she had planned? How did she have a rapport with Marci? Why did she not just come clean with her origins? The more she thought about it, the more she started to piece things together. Slowly. Before any conclusions could be made, her weakened mind ended up focusing elsewhere …

Marci …

The young teen she had reconciled with, and in turn was let in on some insight that made Zarina’s head spin. She wanted to help Marceline. Help the one willing to fight for what’s her’s to get what she’s owed. It was almost a sort of honour thing, to the point that it drew from Zarina’s indignation and emotional nature and led her down this rabbithole of revolution. Would she partake in this potentially disastrous ‘revolution’ to help a friend? Or is she just way over her head? She blinked a few times, having nearly fallen asleep on her camel.

Yalen …

Did they all know each other? Was this some sort of coordinated thing and Hugo was the mastermind? Or was he fooled too? After all, two Tethered pupils attending this mission was objectively a boon. He did not look well at all this morning, even worse than Zarina herself. Had he been involved in something as well? Or was it one of those nightmares her sister had brought up? So many questions, and the Virangish insomniac would get little from them in her current state. Although with the way he killed those Halassa, Zarina was not going to bank on some Quentic pacifism to hold this one back.

Kaspar, Ayla …

Two with family names that mattered. One from this very land, one from another where potential ‘Clovers’ like Marci could be sold to. What would disrupting a factory of Mage Snipers potentially do to their reputations? Would they go with it, and maybe risk their families’ wellbeing? There were many patients in that Refuge, many children. But how many depended on these families too? Would a two or three hundred ailing youths be worth the many impacted by the harming of big names? The thought was nauseating, when Zarina realised how complex things could get with stopping something so clearly ‘wrong’ in many ways.

Ysilla …

And finally her own sister. Her own blood. What applied to the two previous applied to her own family. In a sense, her mother was likely not to ever falter over petty geopolitical cabals, but to bring shame to her family’s name, and subsequently harm her very blood was a frightening prospect indeed. It was all mentally taxing, to the point where she just let go, and slumped over the first hump, and entered a micro-sleep. Luckily the camel was content with just following the herd, letting the rider get a bit of rest. No dreams would be had, thankfully.

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And then suddenly, she woke up to growing tremors in the sand and stone. They were getting close to the aberration. The Tethered trio could sense it. But it would obviously not be made easy. Another Wyrm came into play, or maybe it was the same one as before? It really did not matter, they just had to leave. Rushing toward safety, the animals were clearly spooked by the ordeal, but Escarra could lead the flock away just in time while Zarina took notice of the one supply camel panicking. Pumped with adrenaline and refusing to lose a precious source of goods, she went into a full-on gallop with Daoud to retrieve the panicked beast, seizing its broken rope and calling out to it. It actually calmed down once tugged and heard the calls of the girl despite the chaos going around it.

Successful in her rescue, she kept the camel bound to her own and quickly joined the party before she ended up Wyrm chow. They were safe … Until one crisis ushered in another. A meat feast had awakened within the canyon, and the predators were now all on high alert. Forabasses, a lot of them, first picking off the easy targets, but then taking interest in the party. Coming in waves, the clouds of pseudo-dragons began to pick off their group, ”Hug the wall!” she called out, employing some of her Kinetic magic to push the supply camel to safety and close to her own.

The Froabasses were limited, for a time, but they would end up winning. First was one of the guards, and the scene unfolding before her eyes had Zarina’s heartbeat at a headache-inducing pace. She was clearly scared, but not helpless. One hand drew a sword, and the other picked up some knives she had brought along for the trip. The guard was already long ago, taken by the carnivorous beasts, but the second was about to be devoured right before them. As he was being ripped apart, she instinctively hurled her blade toward his head. She missed, hitting the throat instead. Her attempt to end his life painlessly before the gruesome end had only partially failed, as he would likely not feel much after losing most of his blood in a few seconds. Still, she whimpered at the sight, but didn’t give up. A few camels were taken too, and while her aim wasn’t the greatest, she did her best to pierce their skulls and end it quickly, until it was her turn to be greeted by the predators.

”Fuck it.” if it was going to be the end, she would go down with a fight. Both blades were drawn and she hopped off Daoud, keeping the terrified beast behind her as she began to swing at the monsters while shouting at them. And when she was in the right state to just go all out, her mind serene and committed, one of the creatures downright attacked another and served as a shield for Zarina and those near her. This bizarre turn of events had her completely stunned, ”What the …” her body felt cooler than normal, and she couldn’t shake off the sensation that the moment she felt that coldness, the beast felt it too and acted accordingly, somehow.

The group attacking them retreated after this strange occurrence. They were not safe, but a moment of respite was generously given to them. Enough time for Zarina to actually approach the draconic being and slowly attempt to rest her hand on its tail. Any thoughts of her actually connecting with the beast immediately vanished as it reacted with a slap to her core with the tail. Not breaking anything, but she would get a bruise. It growled at her, seeming ready to attack, but then just flew off with the flock.

That same flock was going to come back to them. At least two dozen massive flying beasts, and they had to chance. Zarina took this time to peer over at her sister and Ayla. Then at Marceline. She frowned melancholically, but only briefly. Inhaling strongly, she raised both her blades and stared down the coming swarm with defiant eyes. She screamed a powerful warcry, bracing herself for the worst and standing between the attackers and those she cared for most. She would not die today, however.

A massive draw was taking place. One that even the Froabasses were sensing and halted their attack over. All this energy– it converged toward one person: Jocasta. The intense power was enough to have Zarina kneel and stare in awe. She had only seen one person display such power before, and even then this seemed exceptional by that standard too. The thought of inevitable death was superseded by a fear of the unknown. What could possibly come of such a concentration of power? And then she felt a familiar feeling. The same that came from solving that first riddle in the tower, and when the Paradigm opened a tear in space and time. The Froabasses were then all gone. Poof. Like they weren’t there in the first place, along with their meals.

It took a moment for Zarina to fully grasp what was going on, her eyes shifting about to see if anything else had changed. And then Jocasta explained. The threat was gone, taken somewhere else via a magic that few knew. It didn’t hit the Virangish teen right away what all of this could imply. No, she was first and foremost thankful to Vashdal that this did not turn into the nightmare it could easily have been. Her hand reached for her pendant, her thumb tracing the lines upon it. She had so nearly died, and yet here she was. It did not stop a creeping bad feeling to take root at the back of her mind, however.

[Ending is at Ayla's post above!]

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Location: Isla d'Amato -> Penny's new whip

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Interactions: Trypano @A Lowly Wretch, Desmond @Th3King0fChaos, Penny @Force and Fury

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Ingrid was taking time to purge herself of what she saw. She was trying to put what she saw behind her for at least the mission. But the reoccurring image of the dead children kept creeping into her mind. Her conscience wouldn't let her move past it that easily. She wanted to just go home, leave this island and this ever happened but it's not like she could. The alcohol nauseated her less than the images and by the time Desmond arrived Ingrid was dry heaving trying to get a handle on herself.

Ingrid didn't even flinch when the jacket, her guard was down and it wasn't until he tossed the hat on her head that she stiffened up to look at the person who draped her. It was Desmond, not a face Ingrid wanted to see, to be honest. Well, she didn't want to see anyone but having the mission lead come to check on her just told her she was taking too much time composing herself. She listened to what he had to say and a pathetic smile crossed her face as she turned her face away before saying "I know, I know." Ingrid held back tears as she continued, "I … I'm okay. Okay enough. I have to be. I'll head out to the ship after I clean myself up a bit." Ingrid wiped away the tears and let out a sigh like she was trying to refocus. She tied the jacket together to try and cover up a bit more and it was semi-successful. Her current outfit reminds her of the enemy's seductress after succeeding to go home with the naval captain. It was… a look and Ingrid might not have minded it if she wasn't in front of actual people. Hopefully either ship Penny captured has some pants for me, mine are barely holding on. I should figure out how to fix this stuff in the future. She took some of the water out of Desmond's waterskin with kinetic magic, Ingrid wasn't too keen on getting puke lips on her classmate's waterskin. Ingrid quickly rinsed her mouth out and started to make her way out of the alley. Ingrid turned back and said ready, handing back Desmond's hat.

Ingrid tried to make her way quickly to the water where she could make her way to the ship. Her embarrassment of walking in front of so many people in such a scandalous outfit was put on hold for the next moment of rest. She swears to Eshiran that she heard some fucker whistle at her. Whatever the case, when she made it to the water she cheated an ice disk big enough for 2 if Desmond wished to hop on. The ice sheet shot towards the ship, using the waves' movements to propel the forward. It would probably be difficult to stand if you were not used to the ice but Ingrid was more than used to the ice. Ingrid's homeland is mostly ice so this was like walking to her.

As Ingrid approached the ship she just simply did a kinetic jump onto the ship. But Ingrid didn't expect the ice sheet she made to be so thin after the travel to the ship. The water must have been warmer than she expected. The Ice broke underneath her and she went up maybe a foot and then fell into the newly created hole in the ice. She decide to just climb up the side where the ladder was. As she was climbing she slipped and hit her head on one of the steps, dazing her. Hitting the water brought her back to attention. She finally decided to just make a large ice structure to put her on top of a small ice block to get on the ship. As the block grew closer and closer to her goal, the ice flipped as a big wave hit it and sent her off it into the water again. Defeated she yells to Penny and Trypano for a rope. I can't even get on a ship. How humiliating…

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Location: Isla d'Amato near the water

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Interactions: Trypano @A Lowly Wretch, Ingrid @dragonpiece, Onarr @Bork Lazer, Amelea, Penny, and Ismet'ych'lahin'dichora @Force and Fury

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Desmond watched as Ingrid had began to notice the world and compose herself. She seemed like she was mentally pushing everything to the side until it was all over, 'Good, we'll make it out yet'. As she began to dress herself, she tied up his jacket, and that was when Desmond realized how big Ingrid was, he never fully understood until that moment. He almost chuckled at her outfit, it did not suit her, definitely was not a part of her wardrobe. Yet is seemed once she made her clothing do, she readied herself by clearing he mouth out with water, using magic nonetheless. Desmond did chuckle at that as it did show their difference, Desmond saw Magic as a tool, she saw it as an extension of herself. In this moment of thought it seemed Ingrid had fully composed herself and prepared to move forward. Desmond gave her a nod as she handed back his hat, he flipped it onto his head as he said, "Alright let's go".

As they left the alleyway Desmond realized that it was not only her top taken off, Desmond walked a little closer to her and slightly off to the side where the larger group was. He was being nonchalant about his actions, but he was trying to cover her bottom side from those looking. As they walked by Desmond looked to Ismette and Onarr as he called out to them, "Come on we need to talk on the ship. We need to see what's happening with Penny". As they moved past them and near the Princess he looked to her and said, "We will be talking on the ship, when you see the sail raised on the ketch, red will mean we fight and white will mean we are leaving". Desmond left it brief, they could not waste time, they had mages on the way. He let out a sigh as he heard a whistle come from the group of on lookers, Desmond just tilted his hat as they continued, this was not a great look for the crew yet it was what they had to deal with. Yet once they made it to the water Ingrid created a sheet of ice, as she stepped on she shifted herself to make enough room for him. Desmond took a step on and was about to slip, yet he began to focus his magic onto the bottom of his boots and started to make the ice underneath him much more rough and able to create friction between his boots to allow him to stand just fine. This was a trick that Desmond was taught to work on all terrains, to shift and change not only the ground he is on but also his boots to allow him to walk with ease.

As they neared the ship, Desmond prepared to do a kinetic jump, as he pulled in kinetic energy, he waited a moment as the moment he was about to jump, he first jumped off of the ice and then used his stored energy to throw himself into the air. A kinetic jump in the end never needs you to physically jump, all that needs to be done is using the energy to propel yourself. So Desmond decided to use the energy to push up against his legs while drawing in the energy at the moment of impact to allow him to be launched without hurting himself. As he flew up he used the kinetic energy to make sure he made it up and the moment he was about to land on the ships deck he drew in the energy to soften his landing into nothing. Desmond looked back and didn't see Ingrid, as he looked back into the water and saw her trying to climb the side of the ship as she fell again. He began looking for a rope as then he felt a draw of energy as he saw ice beginning to climb up, yet not connected to the boat. And a wave seemed to past that flipped it over and send her into the water. Desmond let out a sigh as he said, "Alright let's get her up".

As he looked to Ingrid, he used the energy he had to launch Ingrid out of the water, yet he didn't realize how light she was, so she went up much faster than expected, to the point where she was right infront of him in a moment, and he had no time to react to her coming up and over as she lands straight onto him. As he fell with Ingrid landing on top of him, as he fell over, he landed on his back and Ingrid had landed on his lap and lower stomach area. He looked up to Ingrid and said through a slight grunt, "You alright?"