Just before the eve of Nox Arcanum, Dorothea got a special request from the crown. Not fully understanding why Vedil wished for her to take one of the Society of the Gift’s prized possessions, the Staff of the Covenant. A legendary staff of Eskandish origin as she has overheard over the last year of hearsay. Not only did she need to steal it from the Society of the Gift she also was tasked to take it to the Mausoleum of Ste. Berenice. The reason why was not disclosed as the only response back that was given was an ominous “You’ll see.”
To prepare for the masquerade where the Staff would be shown off the girl made sure to select the most opulent of dresses she had. Having sewed in an inner pocket where she could hide a couple samples of her newest product, derived from her mastering around the chemical formula that would put someone into a state of unconsciousness. A powder that was created with the similar formula, heating up upon contact with high concentration of moisture and becoming her signature gas. She dubbed it her Schlafpulver. She bound a rather small knife sheath along her thigh, the knife itself was not big or noticeable but it might come in handy. Donning the Mask of the Wandering Witch Doctor as she went to the party.
The evening masquerade was well underway and the staff was in her eyesight, she just needed the right time and place. Not thinking she could take out the students guarding it and make a run for it. Her indecisiveness came in handy this time around as… Hugo… came back and the girl could feel her ability to use magic fade away. using the shock and lack of magic to her advantage as she ran towards the staff, grabbing some wine from a person she passed. grabbing her powder and as she reached her destination released the powder into the wine and caused it to unleash her incapacitating agent. knocking out the people around the staff one by one. The girl had no time to think it through any longer as she grabbed the Staff and made a run for it.
Without her noticing the girl had not realized that something happened to her or rather with people around her. First their eyes were not glued to the staff… but rather to her and her figure. Without much of a warming the girl was getting swarmed by these people. The girl used the Marrowood staff to fend the people off enough to open some sort of pathway, her clothing was getting torn from the hands grabbing onto. The long dress turned a lot shorter after some tearing, but eventually the girl was out of the group’s stampede as the effect subsided as her magic returned to her.
Without much warning a dark portal appeared and a frog-like being hopped out, was it a frog? No, it reeked too much of Void energy for that. It appeared to be a Frog Demon of sorts and quickly lunged towards the Feskan. Out of fear the girl did not hold back against the demon and cast Touch of Doom against him, causing the little frog demon to expand before violently exploding into tiny bits.
As if one demon was not enough, soon another portal opened and another small demon appeared, this one looking somewhat more human? The noise it made was terrible cackling noise. To deal with the pest quickly the girl used Blizzard of Knives to skewer the demon and quickly let it escape this plane of existence.
Then as if the other two demons were more a test of her patience another presence came out of a third portal. This one felt different, it gave the girl chicken bumps by just its sheer presence. A massive grinning demon made itself present and looked straight at Dory. The Feskan shook in her boots before something clicked in her mind and soon enough her body began convulsing. The demon within the girl’s body did not say a single word with the only thing present on him being a content smirk. With little effort the crown’s demon tried to remove the grinning demon from reality, however it was not enough as he clawed its way back. Then “Dory’s” face contorted into a more annoyed frown. Putting in more effort into its next spell as the space around the grinning demon turned into the void and without much chance to struggle was erased from reality.
The crown’s demon let control over the body go and soon enough Dory came back, grasping her head and continuing her way towards the mausoleum, then one last portal opened as a small chicken demon appeared out of it. Dory, having had enough of this debacle, used Coldfire to coat the chicken demon with a non ending flame.
Then a sensation that was familiar from before came over her as what little people were around were dangerously attracted once more to her for some reason. Every person coming close to her was hit full blast by a gaze of sloth from her, forming up a line of unconscious bodies.
The sensation left her once more as a small condensed cloud hung over her head and poured cats and dogs, the girl struggled to keep up her pace with the rising winds. Lightning struck and like a gunslinger, Dory blasted it and the cloud away with a darkbolt. Running just in case a cloud returns.
Upon reaching the Mausoleum of Ste. Berenice, Dorothea looked around and found a couple of Gargoyles. Most of them look as if they have been left alone while others look quite damaged. Dory walked forward and placed the Staff upon a broken altar as was requested. The staff emitted energy and soon enough the statues around her began to move? The statue-esque beings soon enough approached the girl and kneeled. Out of the ten gargoyles only six managed to look unscathed, two unfortunately did not come to life from their broken form. It was then that Dory noticed that they were not seen around the group of six that slowly approached the girl, one was missing an arm while the other missed a wing. Their cries almost sounded like begging.
Taking pity on them, the girl sighed. She did not know how to bring back limbs with how little blood magic she had. Placing her left and right hand on both of their heads, even if she does not have the magic to heal them she can soothe their pain. But as if the gods themselves heard these being's pleas the arm and wing grew back upon their form. Both of them grabbed her respective hand and shook them before falling back in line with the other six.
Then everything went numb, she could still see however there was no way for her to speak or move on her own. It seemed as if Vedil had taken over. The words out of her mouth was not a single language she could understand in the slightest. Then something that sounded like a list of names came across. the two that came to her were called out first. “Zabarchazad, Arisztaxa” Then the others were called out “Simbarids, Gorganchack, Dandrouyo, Kalifenni, Dexoria, Allanayax” Vedil’s words continued a while further and the eight of them flew off, leaving Dory alone at the mausoleum once more. ”What just happened?...”
Ashon sat with the others as they enjoy their breakfast, thankfully, he managed to enjoy a good night of rest, but 10 people and 6 beds did end up with things rather spicy. Thankfully for everyone else the wooden doors were made of a sturdy construction as, Manfred & Dory took one bed, with the other occupied by Casii & Isii, in their room. The other rooms were split by sex, with Ymiico and Laska taking the girls room, leaving the boys squabbling over beds as Qasem huddled up with Kaspar, and Cal… despite Ashon offering a friendly suggestion to help warm the sheets for him, preferred to sleep alone. This left Ashon as it suited him, laying back upon the wooden floor.
As he was helping himself to a variety of the different breakfast mushrooms, Ines presented them with the bill. She appeared to look toward the most authoritative looking of the group at that moment, Manfred, who hesitated for a moment.
“Großer Bruder, der uns behandelt? - Big brother treating us?” Ashon pounced as he slide himself next to Manfred, sticking his arm around him, “er ist sehr großzügig! - he is very generous!” There was no room needed for imagination as Manfred felt and heard the chink of his coin purse being handled as Ashon presented coins toward their darling patron. “Etwas für die schöne Frau hinzugefügt - Added something for the beautiful woman” He winked toward her and gave the moustached leader a goofy grin. As Manfred checked his waist, his coin purse appeared to be unmolested.
After the blushing innkeeper decided to supply them with the information they needed to get started, they decided to split up into three parties. Countess Dorothea and Sister Laska, being the authoritative figures of the group, were to meet Herr Dubosque at the Church. Taking the curious Ymiico with them. Qasem, Manfred, and Isii went to play the Good, Bad, and the Ugly cop down at the Barracks. Ashon, Cal, Casii, Kaspar went to the Square to do some shopping.
Thanks to all the built up misunderstandings, Yalen had been given the "seat of honor" at the dinner table. The meal tonight was obviously distant from the Constantian palette, but he was ever the foodie and didn't hesitate to dig in, at least after giving everyone's food a quick check for toxins. He picked up a bread-like dumpling and bit into it, and was taken aback by how dry the outer shell was. His hand instinctively went for his cup of tea, but then he noticed that there was a savory, almost broth-like filling inside, and it was delicious. While idly listening to a conversation between Rikard and their guide, Yalen's attention was caught by the mention of a particular phrase. "Bái wèibīng? What does that mean?" He asked Xiulan.
The smile fell off of her face as if he had just spilled his food, but the guide quickly recovered. "Oh, zem. Yes!" she exclaimed, after finishing a bite. "Zey are... like ze elite policeman in ze country, I sink. If zis problem was serious, Captain Zhu will call zem." She took a sip of her water. It seemed that they served it warm - almost hot - here instead of cool. "I know how is sound," she sighed. "Like I'm bad host, just deny deny deny, but if the problem was serious, I will tell you." For a moment, her eyes flicked about, almost imperceptibly quick, scanning her immediate surroundings and the mezzanine above before returning to Yalen. She smiled.
Yalen picked up on the obvious hint and became alarmed. Before giving her a response, he began scanning the first and second floor for eavesdroppers, while masking his pause with a sip of tea. There were two guards at the front door and one at the rear. Two appeared to be resting already, and another in conversation with Captain Zhu up on the mezzanine floor. For the moment, there was nobody listening in aside from Yin, busy bringing in some new plates, but then she was back out. Xiulan's eyes met Yalen's. She smiled again, knowingly, this time. "You are a smart man, I sink," she told him quietly. "Nobody is watch wiss his eyes or listen wiss his ears." She paused for a moment, taking another dumpling. "See!" she concluded cheerily. "Retan is a very safe place!" She leaned in and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "I can see you like our food too, hmm?" She rose, quite suddenly. "Come!" she encouraged, gesturing for him to follow. "Come, I show you how we make. Yin doesn't mind."
Yalen had to hold back a smirk. He wasn't expecting a catch this big on the first day. He scooted out of his chair and stood up. "Really? I'd love to see that."
"Oh good!" exclaimed Xiulan, "because I want to show you!" She managed a little giggle and it was apparent that she'd had a bit to drink. She led him out of the courtyard and through a large set of double doors. It was dim where they were, with few lanterns to light their way: enough to see by, but not in detail. There were candles in wall sconces they could've lit, but she didn't light them. After a moment, not too far from the noise of the kitchen, she opened a small door and abruptly pulled Yalen inside. It was... a closet.
"...Quite." Yalen uncomfortably shifted as his medicine pouch dug into his waist. He turned his head slightly so he wouldn't be breathing over her face. Suspecting that this woman hadn’t captured him to sample the quality of Constantian men, he got straight to the point.
"So, let's talk shall we? It's obvious that the Traveler is not our only concern here. Who, or what, are you really afraid of?"
"Ze Hēi wèishì," she whispered, practically mouthing it, but she shook her head. "Like ze Bái wèibīng. Zey are not ze normal police. Nobody know he's real name or what looks like. Only ten of zem." She took a moment to swallow. "Sorry for my breass. It's bad." She let out a nervous chuckle. "Zey are not bad person. Zey are to help wiss find the Traveler. Very strong, zough. Very secret. I sink you are not here to do ze work." She paused for a moment, going still and holding a finger to her lips. Seemingly satisfied, she then continued.
"You must to understand: Retan have a different culture to Eastern country. Zis is a very political sing, I sink. Hēi wèishì handle it. Zey say you do it. Zey make some mistake, zey say you do it. You say nossing, okay?" she all-but demanded. "Or I get in big trouble and you get new guide, less fun." It was a poor attempt at levity, but an attempt nonetheless. Then, there came a series of clanks from the kitchen and the sound of a door opening. Xiulan yanked Yalen out before either Yin or her father could round the bend in the hallway. It was the latter, in this case and they spoke rapidly in Retanese. He regarded Yalen with a smile and said some things that the youth could not understand, but his gestures were clear, and Yalen picked up 'Yin' in there. "He say we can go see how ze foods are made," the guide explained, perfectly cheery again. "Come come!" She already had Yalen by the hand, and she fluttered into the kitchen with him in tow.
Yalen was not offended by her haste. He didn't intend to drag her any deeper into this mess. For now he allowed himself to be led along to keep up appearances, but behind his calm smile was a spark of determination. Someone else would give him more information, willingly or not. No matter what, he needed a name.
They returned to the courtyard table a few minutes later with Yin and another few platters of food, Yalen picking at one already and Xiulan playfully scolding him, none the wiser, or so it would seem. He would keep his mouth shut for the rest of the meal, but later on when dinner was concluded Yalen would go on to share what he had learned with the others, while making an open request for them to dig up more information about the secret police.
Twilight had fallen on the city, and most respectable work had been wrapped up for the day. This was the hour of crooks, carousers, and courtesans. Yalen had no idea if the capital city had an enforced curfew, but he felt the ice was still too thin to risk treading its surface. The team had been informed that they should be ready at eight o’ clock by the reckoning of Rettanese timepieces, and a skilled chemical mage could delay their sleep for some time, so Yalen elected to use the night hours for self study. He placed a cushion next to his coffee table and used it as a desk, producing what appeared to be a handwritten book as well as note taking materials.
An hour or so after sunset he bookmarked a page in his tome and rubbed his eyes. Yalen tapped his pen against his chin idly, then looked at his free hand. He gripped the writing implement tightly and pricked his thumb with it, allowing a miniscule trickle of blood to flow freely from the wound. The priest discarded his pen and clutched his wrist, while closing his eyes in concentration.
”Mend.”
Yalen stared at his thumb expectantly for… something to happen. A few seconds had to pass for him to realize that the intended effect had not materialized.
”Mend!”
Still nothing. He sighed and hastily stitched his finger closed with binding magic. Then he got off of the floor cushion and crawled dejectedly into bed. He was finally beginning to drift off, but before he was able to, the tethered mage was swept by a mild sense of paranoia, though he knew not the cause. The compulsion was too strong for Yalen to ignore, so to alay his personal fears he distracted himself with some productive meditation. Spreading his awareness outwards, he cast his mental net and began to passively investigate the energy sources he found. He was particularly interested in finding evidence of magic use, but despite being able to sense over a distance of over seven kilometers, Yalen detected no more than two incidents of magic. It was certainly night time, but Wanggang contained hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people within its walls. Statistically there should have been more magic use nearby, even given his limited ability to read more than a few energy sources at a time.
Something feels off here… Yalen thought to himself. He was about to give up when, at the very last minute, he felt the presence of a magic user. A proper mage this time, burning with energy that could only be mustered by someone trained extensively in drawing. They didn’t feel human though. Or did they? He felt like he recognized this kind of signature from one of the species he encountered during the Trials, but the memory was already faded from disuse.
They’re tangling with someone else. After widening his radius Yalen realized that there was a second individual close to the first one, and they seemed to be caught in a chase. The second one was definitely not human. Either that, or they were simply so strong that his mind could only see them as a monster.
The signatures eventually faded from his focus. Yalen investigated the humanoid thoroughly before he lost the connection, committing the fuzzy sensation to memory as best as he could. It was a very small chance, but he might come close to that unseen individual tomorrow. If that happened, he would know, and he would find them.
The night was filled with the sound of revelry, and the air thickened with anticipation. Mudville, a small town outside the city of Ersand'Enise, was hosting the grand debut of Pelova Fascino. This new fashion company promised to revolutionize how people dressed by representing some of Sipenta's most illustrious cultures. The owner, Yuliya, had spared no expense to make the event a spectacle, and the attendees arrived in droves, eager to witness the unveiling of the latest trends.
The line was monitored by one of Emiliano's men, a tall, broad-shouldered, big-headed Darrahnic who hailed from Virang. Albeit his frame intimidating, the gentleness in his eyes comforted the arriving attendees. Guards were stationed in various locations with and without identifiable attire. Some were to act as obvious deterrents, while others were to blend in. Two men in cloaks met in the fields adjacent to Pelova Fascino and between Miller's Hook.
"Non e un serpente." Evander stated unequivocally. Emiliano responded without hesitation, "Vive nell'acqua." The two reached out their hands and shook firmly.
Evander inquisitively asked, "Are the men in order?" Emiliano confirmed, "Like threads on a string, m'lord." Tonight's affair was important. Everything had to happen just as they debuted the Pelova Fascino fashion brand to some of the highest players in Ersand'Enise and abroad. Depending on first impressions, these sorts of ventures soared or burned as Icarus to the sun. People from all over arrived using the teleportation gates of Ersand'Enise, making their trip south, passing through the Seagate to the Pelova Fascino entrance.
"What about the little ones? Evander waved his hand low, signaling to Emiliano, the height of children. The network of Mudvillian children under Emiliano's influence was by the dozen. Some dashed around like squirrels on branches, others kept still in dark places eavesdropping on irrelevant and relevant conversations, and few found their magic in infiltrating other networks of adults and children.
Emiliano smirked, which would not have been visible to Evander if Emiliano was not a head taller than him, "The little semers are doing what they do best." He took a breath as he looked out into the lines of sowed land where crops would rise high in the coming season, "dispersed like seeds on this field, they grow and share their yield at unique lengths with mild tastes, they share with me a warning, there is a cause mixed in with the mud, and it does not wish to see your wealth step into its puddles."
Evander listened to the surprisingly poetic Emiliano, "Beyond a seafarer and a mercenary I see," he placed his hand into his pocket to pull out coin, "do find out who keeps the mud from drying and sowing new seeds." Evander extended his hand to place the coin in Emilaino's grasp. The two pulled back after their exchange; Emiliano bowed respectfully and turned toward Miller's Hook, while Evander turned toward Pelova Fascino's for the event.
Inside Pelova Fascino's show, the fashion was nothing short of breathtaking. Gowns flowed like waterfalls, their intricate embroidery shimmering in the light of the torches and lanterns. Accessories sparkle like stars across constellations, drawing attention to every curve and contour. All of it was designed by Isabella Lowell, a master of her craft, who had lent her talents to Yuliya's vision.
Yuliya, for her part, was radiant. She stepped onto the stage, her eyes glimmering with pride and toward opportunity. She promised to drive new ideas to inspire and uplift Mudville and the city of Ersand'Enise to show the world these were two great places to be. But then, something happened. A sudden gust of wind swept through the venue, rattling tables and chairs. In the midst of the chaos, a figure appeared. A ghostly apparition was hovering just above the ground. And it looked familiar.
Evander's eyes widened his heart still. He recognized the ghost, Hugo.
The ghost of Hugo hurled accusations at Yuliya, blaming her for his death. And then, he was gone. The crowd was silent, their faces etched with fear and confusion. Evander could feel a cold sweat drip from his brow, but he snapped out of it, reminding them it's a show. He stood up and began to clap, "What a heart-pumping end!" Others began to clap; some could not distinguish whether the ghost was real, honest, or an illusion to give publicity to Pelova's brand as a fashion show and a play. Ultimately, they erupted into applause, Yuliya giving her final remarks before closing out the evening as Evander's security graciously ushered the attendees out from the building.
Some attendees were leaving with Pelova Fascino's clothing, some praising, and some still questioning what just happened. A room divided, maybe, but Evander was not about to let the house follow. He immediately approached Yuliya and Isabella, who were gathering to debrief about the evening, "Yuliya, was that a part of the show?" Evander asked rhetorically; he knew it wasn't, "You might take offense to this; I don't think you are strong enough to have killed Hugo, at least not alone." He smirked, "To me, this feels more like a message to break the reputation of Pelova Fascino before it gets off the ground; otherwise, why would Hugo's ghost have waited this long to accuse you and why on the day of Pelova's opening and not a place where there would be more witnesses?" The whole thing seemed ridiculous the more Evander spoke about it out loud. Then he remembered Emiliano's warning, may those little semers yield something worth biting.
Setting Sails: All Aboard to Sirrahi Land
(Present)
Location: Docks of Ersand'EniseErasand’Enise
Evander, a Marquis of Revidia, stood tall and proud on the docks, his eyes fixed on the galleon before him. His father, a strong Duke of Revidia, next to the L'anguila himself, sent Evander one ship. The ship kept a crew of 50 to 75 men, and at the front was a powerful figurehead carved into the shape of a dragon's head - the Black Devil. The ears of it looked to outstretch like wings as if ready to take flight. Evander paused at the craftsmanship as a sailor drew down the bridge to allow access to the deck from the dock.
"Is that you, Lord Synesti?" The sailor croaked in a harsh voice, the result of smoking tobacco on long voyages through a pipe he carved years ago. Evander took a heavy step on the bridge and walked across to meet the sailor's gaze arm's distance away, "Captain Marsilio Baresi." The two stood in silence with straight-laced faces. And then, the two cracked into laughter, "Oh how you've grown!" Marsilio embraced Evander as if they were kin. The formalities broke quickly as Marsilio grabbed the shoulders of Evander with his barrel hands, pushed him slightly back with a firm hold, and repeated himself while adding, "...into a fine man!"
As a young kid, Evander could remember having toured Captain Marsilio's boat quite a few times. He was one of his father's most trusted and experienced captains. Marsilio's family traced back to the Synesti's rise in power during Revidia's emergence. They were cast from a line of shipbuilders, traders, and navy raiders. The Baresi's were loyal, stubborn, and hardy. Preferring hard work over political maneuvering, they had no issues hooking into the curtails of the Synesti's to move to the social status they have today. A symbiotic relationship as the Synesti's had no issues with the Baresi's consistently birthing children who managed to be some of the most competent sailors of Severna and possibly abroad.
Captain Marsilio took a step to the side as he wrapped his gigantic arm around the shoulder and neck of Evander, his bear paw cupping the outside, making the head of Evander's shoulder seem small. He guided Evander along the side of the boat and to the back where the Captain's quarters and wheel were located, "Ya' know, it's been twelve years since we've seen each other. I remember when you played on these very decks., do you remember?" The two passed sailors tying rope and smiling as if they knew Evander already. Evander could feel the strength of his friend's arm lying heavy on his back, "I remember you, and I remember Stefano. Wait, where is Stefano?"
The two stopped as Marsilio let his arm cascade down Evander's back and dropped to his side. Evander could not help but see Marsilio as a mountain . Marsilio sighed, which Evander perceived as a gust of wind, heavy and somber, "She took him." Marsilio then looked at the stairs. They stood at the base and stepped up. Evander knew what he meant, She, was the ocean.
The two reached the Helm. Marsilio's gloom overcame him as he opened up about Stefano, "I know ya, and your gonna ask, before ya do, I'll share with you. Stefano and I were making a trip to Belzagg, got attacked by some pirates, Weggos sort, we managed to defend our vessel. Still, Stefano took a knife to the neck by a pirate who called himself Sanka, soul of the Weggosi coast, woulda had him... but... he had Stefano in the heat of battle, used him to get close to the edge, cut him, and dove in." Evander felt a bit of sadness introduce itself into his heart, and then it transformed into a rage, "What in Ahn-Eshiran's name, what were they after?"
Marsilio shook his head, "The egg of a Black Devil." Evander understood the implications of a pirate leading a Black Devil in the Ensolian Sea, "How long ago was this?" Marsilio replied with some angst, "Three years ago, if it hatched and took to him, it'll be a problem if it hasn't become one already somewhere we have not heard about yet." Evander sighed, "Another freedom-preaching fanatic standing on sand castles instead of cornerstones." The two nodded as they turned to the deck, where they both could see Marsilio's crew of fifty, busy as ants, scurrying up and down the rigging, tying ropes, and hoisting sails. Evander was in the presence of skilled sailors, men who knew the sea and its ways, men who stood against men and beasts alike.
Marsilio's barrel chest rose as he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs to total capacity, "Aye men! Be respectful to our guests and greet yourselves before we set sail!" The deck ceased to move, all eyes facing the Helm, all eyes on Evander, in unison they shouted, "Aye, sir! Welcome aboard the Devil's Revenge." Marsilio turned to Evnader with a smile; Marsilio would find that Weggosi one day and take his life for Stefano's.
After the greeting from the crew, another figure came up to the Helm to pass along a letter, "From Harrachara.". The figure turned to leave, and Evander opened the envelope. It was an invitation.
Primitive: Into the Fire
(Present)
Location: Dune SeaTorragon
He could see the desert drawing toward him as if he had tugged the scene to his face. The gate opened into the barren sands of Torragon's Dune Sea; without missing a step, Evander landed effortlessly. His acrobatic talent instinctively kicked into gear when he needed it for those split-second saves. His feet crunched the sand below, and he stood upright to gain orientation of the situation.
The heat of the Dune Sea was nothing compared to what he remembered when meeting the Sirrahi. This place... had a sun that was rejuvenating Evander's mana and triggering memories of Toleus' arrival. This isn't the place, but it feels like it. The Sirrahi... the desert... the mission... if he was going to get close to them again, this might be it.
The others: Desmond, Tku, Benny, and Fiske, all arrived with Evander, appearing in front of Yalen and Isabella. Immediately they were warned of the Sand Wyrm that bore down the necks of Zarina, Ayla, Jocasta, and the rangers they came with. Without a second notice, Benny yelled out his intent to initiate the battle against the Sand Wyrm, "Eat shit, Worm! The calvary is here!"
Evander turned to face the Sand Wyrm in the distance.
"What in Eschiran... so that is a Sand Wyrm." Evander had only heard of these mighty beasts in the books. Never had he set eyes on one. It's hulking size was more than he could comprehend, not to mention there was probably more of it burrowed in the sand beneath all of them. The sheer force of the Sand Wyrm's presence was that compared to a titan. Waterfalls of sand cascaded down its side as it shifted its own weight from side to side. At the moment, it looked benign, but for how long?
Evander spoke out loud, "The Sand Wyrm does not look to be attacking, I don't think attacking it would do us good if it is not seeing us as a threat." The size of it was all Evander could focus on. It would kill most of them, if not all of them by the time the battle was through.
Evander and Emiliano's network of child spies grows in Mudville, and some begin to stretch their network into the city of Ersand'Enise.
Hugo's ghost accuses Yuliya of killing him. The event has divided the guests' opinions about Pelova Fascino.
Evander meets Captain Marsilio Baresi, an experienced sailor and old friend prepping the Devil's Revenge to set sail for the coordinates on the Sirrahi Map that Evander received from Disska.
Evander receives an invite from Harrachara as he steps off the boat.
Evander arrives in Torragon's Dune Sea to rescue other members of his cohort, only to find them facing off against a Sand Wyrm and Benny bitting at the bit to blow it up.
Benedetto pulled up at the last second possible, but the concussive force still sent Zarina flying. To her credit, she landed easily enough. The Wyrm, meanwhile, seemed well and truly pacified. It rose slowly from the sand, serpentine but for the small, streamlined limbs currently tucked into its sides. The scale of it was truly breathtaking. "Just because we don't need to blow it up doesn't mean we're taming a fucking Sand Wyrm, Benny announced, very much not about to be ordered around by some noble girl like he was a common servant.
The rangers were being ushered through a portal by Escarra as he spoke. It seemed to be something of a standoff now. The colossal dragon towered overhead, and the Revidian could tell that this was perhaps but a third of its total length. Great saurian eyes flicked about the group of tiny humans and he thought to reach out and sense what else was in the area. Dirt, critters, and... temporal ripples. They weren't his and it occurred to him that they were probably Jocasta's but... they had a lack of finesse to them that did not match her skill level. Then, he felt a surge, and the creature clearly felt it too. It rose up in a threat display before a pair of halassa materialized out of thin air in front of it and dropped roughly to the ground.
The desert titan swept in immediately and the the big tortoises had no chance. They thrashed and spat and steamed, but the crack of their shells and the sight of the sand wyrm rearing back and swallowing them was one that burned itself into more than one memory. It eyed the group of youths for a moment and then, with a ground-shaking twist, turned on the spot and sank beneath the sands, leaving hardly a ripple in its wake. Benedetto's eyes narrowed. "Anyone else feel that temporal fuckery?" he asked, not singling Jocasta out for sole praise. "Looks like someone put big n' beautiful there up to this little stunt." Jocasta's portal was still up and she regarded him evaluatively. "Benny's not wrong, for once," she replied. "We should group up with Yalen and Izzy and figure this out."
"Trail's gonna go grow cold," Benny spat.
"Trail's gonna begin back at the rangers' camp," came the reply, and they fairly glared at each other. She could never resist an opportunity to insult him and, before they were back at the school, she would be given cause to regret it.
Then, came a new voice. "Actually, it begins some ways before that." It was Manuel Escarra. "And it's... strange. Now, I think we should step through this young woman's portal."
Maura bit into the bao bun, finding it to be very delicious, as the steamed dough was soft like cotton with a seasoned meat filling. She picked up another of the buns with the chopsticks as she leaned over toward Abdel, presenting with her hand to prevent it from falling. “Say ‘Awh’ ~” she brought the delight toward the boy's mouth, so he may enjoy it as well.
She started to begin some small talk with the others, especially Blossom and the Inn-Keeper's daughter, as she attempted to use their goodwill for further useful information she may benefit from.
“Wánggǎng holds much interest for me, so does greater ReTan too. We are very fortunate to be here, especially to enjoy this authentic cuisine, far better than what is found in Ersand’Enise which pales in comparison using our local ingredients.” She mulled for a moment as she tried to say it in ReTanese for them. “大包很好吃。比 Ersand'Enise 好。” She looked toward Blossom, gauging the woman's opinion of her attempt of translation.
Maura started to ask about local delicacies, trade, and shipping, making mental notes. “Is there a harbour, a port, nearby? We love looking at the boats.” She looked hopeful toward them, wishing to enlist their aid with her request. “船在哪里?”
"We have same interest for your country here!" Xiulan replied cheerily, but she soon lost the thread of what the tethered girl was saying. Auth... Aunetic? Pales? Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, for she was a poor translator, and she took another sip of her drink. "Oh, you know some Retanese!" Xiulan cheered, saved from having to pretend any further. She clapped a little bit.
Yin, meanwhile, smiled at the attempts, grateful for being included. Aside from her sudden enthusiasm towards the dragons, however, she was more reserved than her peer.
Finally, they came upon the subject of the port. It was strange, thought the translator, that Maura used 'we', but she knew Avincian much better than her Retanese counterpart, and so Xiulan deferred, of course. "Hmmm, port?" she responded. "We have many ports." She began listing them, ticking off one after another on her fingers. "Zere is a main port not zat far from where walked. I believe you can see it? Zere is king's port close to zere for special sings. We have port for foreigner only. There is fishing port too!" She plucked another dumpling with her chopsticks. "I sink you will see some of zis tomorrow, actually."
Maura smiled as she thought of something, "Nothing as compared to you. 我的语言是托拉贡语 (My language is Torragonese)". She coughed for a moment to clear her throat, as she switched to her native tongue. "Hola soy Maura". She spoke to them in her own tongue, some basic introductions to demonstrate it. The language is far more beautiful than Avincian, with its more charming and pleasant rich sounds. Goal to build more good will and endearment. She soon shared a little about her home.
"My hometown is Varrahasta, a beautiful city that stretches out into the sea due to the number of boats. 小船隔海将城市延伸到地平线". She attempted some poet expression in the local language, to help give the mental image of boats to the horizon. Her eyes cast between them as she smiled sweetly. Nothing better than the image of a sweet lil' helpless girl who is homesick. "We find that the gentle rocking of the boats help sleep at night. The sound of the water lapping against them is peaceful. 船有助于睡眠"
There is something that itch her mind though, the difference between the main port and foreigner port. Her instinct is to assume taxation, though they are being confined to what is termed the foreigner district. It seems the culture here is far more isolating in particular than back home. “What makes someone a foreigner, and someone not a foreigner?” Whilst it may seem a simple question on the surface, she attempts to tease out the details during the conversation.
Xiulan was well into her cups and quite oblivious at this point. "Oh, I'm from an inland city myself," she chirped. "But your country sounds so interesting!"
Then, Maura kept going, and Xiulan arched an eyebrow and scowled in thought. "Well, I don't know what government said, but the foreigner is someone not be born in your country." She shrugged innocently and took another sip of her drink. This foreign girl used 'we' when she talked, and far be it from a Retanese to question her speech, but wasn't that for more than one person? She blinked. Wait! The 'royal we!' What if she's royal!? It would explain so much: why she was pretending to be a merchant, why she was so well-educated, why she was an invalid but allowed outside the home! That must have been it! The translator swallowed, trying to hide her nervousness. "So, what do you want to know about ze docks?" she asked helpfully. "I can accompany you, zere," she further offered.
Maura arched an eyebrow at the response as she noticed a switch in tone. The docks appeared to be making her feel very uncomfortable, perhaps worthy of a solo adventure. She paused for a moment as she began to switch subjects. “Well… there is something that has been bothering me a lot. Maybe you help us tomorrow?”. She raised her eyebrows as she adopted that puppy-eyed look. “You see, due to being foreigners, we are not adopting the appropriate Hanfu and this makes us stick out. Could you assist us by taking us to a tailor or clothing store?” As she canned the others, she tried to recall the different words. “Those are Nobles… so they should wear Beizi and Pifeng? The others would wear an Aoqun and Shanku? Kaureerah is a Yiji, so something fitting her station of the arts. Yalen would wear a suitable Daopao.” Maura started to point everyone out, and assigned them to the categories as she understood them, with Niallus and Abdel falling under the military as well, to permit their heavier hand in the future. Maura paused after pointing out the rest, as she considered her next question. “We… govern an Island, and represent my country's interest. What would be suitable for me to wear?” The conversation continued as things grew later into the night.
Maura, due to necessity, was assigned a room on the ground floor, which suited her perfectly. With a peck upon Abdel’s cheek as she bid him goodnight with a sweet smile, they parted for the evening. She would have loved to bring him along, but it might have been too much for what she had planned.
Dressing up appropriately from clothes she could find to fit in better with the surrounding ReTan people, she started to edge her way toward the rear entrance as he noticed the guard. A small hurdle as she does the elementary distraction technique. With the use of her magic, a little vase fell over and smashed. The guard’s ears pricked as he looked around the area, approaching the location with the tune of shi shui (是谁) leaving his lips. She simply rolled on through the door, the low quiet rolling sound and not the pitter-patter of footsteps the others would have left as she made it into the streets outside.
Thankfully, her conversation with Xiulan aided her direction as she oriented herself to the path taken to arrive at the inn and, like the girl said, she could make out the sight of it from where she was. “Time to have a better look without the Nannies breathing down our necks.” She rolled through the streets toward her destination.
Some of the foods that were on the table in front of him, Niallus never really tried ReTan cuisine before. Either way it smelled pretty good. Picking up a dumpling then taking a bite out of a dumpling, it's soft, other than that, it was good. Looking across the table, it seems Rikard is having a conversation with the guide. After taking another bite of the dumpling.
"Do you think that matter outside has been settled?" he asked Xiulain.
Xiulan smiled quickly at Niallus' inquiry, but it did not reach her eyes. "I sink it is probably be done," she replied. "The police are very good to catch people." She tried another dumpling. "So," she exclaimed, moving the conversation along, "How do we like the food?"
Niallus smiles, nodding his head. "I do. I've never tried food like this before." he takes a sip of his drink to wash it down. The drink was pretty good too. "By any chance, could I be shown how to make these, so I can make them back home?"
Niallus ponders to himself about this police that Xiulan mentioned. Something seemed off to him. If the police were good at capturing people, then why ask us to come here. Then again it might just be that he knows very little about ReTan and its culture. "Can I ask you something. What can you tell me about this police that you mentioned? Do they have titles based on rank? I'm only asking since I know very little about ReTan." he asks her.
Xiulan's face grew visibly paler - almost comically so if it wasn't for just how strong the reaction was. "Oh, you know. Zey have ze ranks." She waved her hand dismissively and let out a nervous laugh. "Zis isn't really my specialty, you know." She hammered back her cup of baiju in a most unladylike fashion, but then Captain Zhu was there, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. They conferred rapidly in Retanese for a moment and the head guard's eyes flicked between Niallus and Xiulan. A handful of Avincian words could be heard mixed in with the Retanese before Captain Zhu spoke. "Retan have many police. You see tomorrow." He addressed Niallus directly.
Something wasn't adding up. She's definitely hiding something based on how she was suddenly acting from that question. Looking at Captain Zhu, he's response made Niallus smile "That's good can't wait to see." he said with a smile. It would best for Niallus not to ask questions like this, especially in front of Zhu. He would have to ask Xiulan when she on her own. But for now it'll be best to avoid them for now.
After he finished eating he asked Xiulain if she, or the some cooks could show him how to make the dumpling. She happily shown him to the kitchen, where he was shown how to make them. It wasn't actually that difficult. First, he poured boiling water over the flour while mixing with chopsticks, Then added the room temperature water. Stir until no more liquid can be seen. Combine and knead the dough with your hands until it becomes smooth. Cover the bowl then rest for 30 minutes. While waiting he sorted out what filling he would like to choose, but Xiulan mentioned that he could try different fillings when he is home. After putting the filling into some of the dough, the time came to fold the dough to hold the filling. Niallus thought he did a good job. When they were fully cooked some of the dumpling had their fillings bursting out.
Niallus just smiled and figured that he put to much filling in them, but didn't mind, he'll just have to practice some more. He thanked Xiulan for showing him on how to make them. Then tried to find his way back to the others.
Tku popped through the portal fully expecting to fight the sand wyrm. Well, distract it for the most part, Dami knows that Tku had no shot at defeating such a foe. But that tension was changed into an intense curiosity as it seemed the Royal Sand Wyrm was… jovial? It was a scene like no other and whatever magic these ladies were using was past even his wildest imaginations.
Of course, our teammate Benedetto was ready to fight and was for lack of a better term, primed to try and kill it. Tku was more than ready to not fight this, but a small disturbance and disagreement had the platinum warrior flying. ”Oh shit,” Tku exclaimed from the shock of it. He was about to ask if they were okay, but they surprisingly landed and recovered with some ease. Oh this is going to be an experience, Tku thought as he adjusted his expectations. Still, he used a bit of binding on the platinum knight even if they seemed alright, just to be sure.
The wackness seemed to not reach its crescendo yet with them now suggesting to tame an Alpha Sand Wyrm. Taming any fully grown animal was difficult to impossible from what Tku had experienced but a sand wyrm? Us little people are like nothing to them, we are just small beings to them, no more significant than a puppy to us. The ideas were like they had already partaken in some of Luun’tils finest products. It almost came off as a joke but then a hallassa just appeared in front of everyone and Benny just confirmed it wasn’t anyone here. Tku just shook his head and moved onto the ranger who died. There was nothing left but Tku traveled the desert enough to know that they wanted to have something to mark the area.
He knew the stone of this area fine enough but cut a stone out of a particularly distinguished segment. Shaping the stone so that it would be visible for some time before the sand sweeps it away like everything else. Whatever he could do to help with the process he did and tried to be more of a facilitator of it and let the rangers do it as they wanted. After that was said and done, he followed Escarra’s suggestion. Where will this lead me, Tku pondered, knowing no matter where it went it would be interesting.
Interactions: None Crick in Ass No Where It had been a restless night, the yellowing sun rising above the horizon to take the chill of dawn away. Casii had found a comfortable spot, dangling out of their second story window as she watched the town wake from their slumber.
One that Casii had found little sleep, though she never found comfort held up in a yanii building. The air was too stagnant, and the walls seemed to close around her. Isii didn't get much sleep either, it seemed. No doubt in regard to her lashing out and there was something about that that stuck with Casii. Fighting for their lives is one thing but there was something more in Isii's twisted motivation to interrogate that dumb yanii for information. Was there really information there because in Casii's eyes those were some bums who picked a bad target and she often didn't mistake things like that. Something about it made Casii consider that Isii wasn't coming from a good place.
That frightened the fuck out of her.
Dark magic always didn't feel right from the way it removed existence outright to the unnatural monsters it seemed to bring forth. Casii liked to believe all of life had some kind of connection and transference. You die, you become fertilizer. That was natural but whatever Isii was learning interrupted that. There was nothing natural about it. There were times Casii made her opinion on that matter known, but seeing as she hadn't seen the things Isii had in Tarlon, she didn't have much leg to stand on.
Fight horror with horror or something like that.
Still, what Isii did yesterday wasn't sitting well. Casii asked about her last night, but Isii was played it off. She did that, trying not to make her worry but come on. She'd worry.
Reaching into her bag, Casii found half a half jamb'ysp scrapped the inside against her teeth before burying it into her cheek. Taking mental stock as her hand shuffled around her bag, she frowned realizing she had been slacking on keeping her stock up. Two left. A consequence of being distracted or lazy, even. She didn't care which but she'd need to slip away at some point if she was going to survive this trip. Then again, maybe the yaniis here had some. They were not far from Qarii'Muuna, relatively anyway, so they might have some from trade. Maybe Tusa did come all the way out here in his shitty raft.
"Humph. Vyshta's favored fool." She leaned forward and spat, letting her spit drop to the ground. She dipped back in to throw on her jacket, the wyrm scaling and froabas leather glittering in the sunlight as she peered out the window again. She picked up her staff and leapt out, landing in a low crouch.
Time to see what the yanii sellers had. If she could understand this crazy yanii speak.
Event: Metropolis Things were odd, there was no magic use and the one time she could have felt it being used, the guards ran off for quite awhile. Now they were being fed excellent food sitting in a very nice inn with beautiful views. It was wonderful and generous and if Ingrid was here as an envoy for friendly relationships, then this would make sense. But no, they were here to hunt down a traveler agent that was murdering people.
It seems her teammates also had some inkling that something was wrong. With everyone else asking Blossom questions, Ingrid played the lazy and ignorant noble who happily ate any food that was presented to her. Asking questions to Yin as she ate.
Not even the first day and there was much to speculate on. Though with Blossoms maybe intentional drinking we could get some time to discuss.
The meal concluded without too much hassle and people started to share what they knew. Yalen had gained a great deal of information from blossom. So they had a white guard and a black guard, and the black guard was hunting down the traveler and we are the convenient cover for them. Zenith Upta talked about how a connection with Rettan would be made if we pulled this off correctly. If the White guard are the elite and the Black guard are even more so, they might work with the very higher ups, possibly even the twin emperors.
Ingrid nodded to tell Yalen she understood but started to whisper to him in Perrench, a common language at the school but maybe not here at least. ”Je n’aime pas rester assis alors que nous pourrions faire les choses nous-mêmes. Et toi?” She felt Yalen wasn’t the type to sit around but maybe this could tell him she would support efforts on finding things out ourselves.
After washing up Ingrid decided to finally approach Maura after that little stunt she pulled. It didn’t really matter if they make a full of themselves now knowing that they are simply here as a convenient cover story for them. Still, Ingrid wanted to set the matter straight. She strolled over to Maura, ”Evening Maura,” Ingrid smiled. ”They sure did give a grand welcoming to us, and thank you for coming up with such respectable names for everyone,” Ingrid complimented Maura on her quick action, ”But that name you gave me was a bit much” Ingrid made no effort to hide her mild distaste for the name, ”As far as I am aware, we are not on good enough terms to be so lax with each other. Let’s try to be at least cordial in the meantime.” Ingrid yawned, ”Rest well Maura, you’ll have a lot of rolling to do tomorrow.” and headed off to her an Niallus’s room.
Once she was in her room she intended to just settle down with Niallus but her mind was caught up in all that was going on, just who could be in the Black guard and why were they using us. It sounds like they are near the level of the arch-Zeno’s at the academy so why then. Her mind couldn’t help but see them as a sacrifice for the white and black guard to remove problematic sectors. Something along the lines of, Oh the government didn’t do that, it was the nasty foreigners, this is why you can only trust the government. It’s an old trick, one that is surprisingly effective. And that didn’t sit right with her. Ingrid has done her fair share of bad things, but she would rather avoid making herself a public enemy here for any time she would want to do business in Retan.
The other thing that bothered me was if the guards came back. Even if the supposed legendary blackguards were on the case, common guards might be seen as expendable. Ingrid isn’t a traveler expert, but she has on more than one occasion dealt with them and both times their tactics were to lead their foe into an engagement where they are outnumbered. Ingrid snuck out and checked on the guards, believing herself to be stealthy with her mixture of arcane and kinetic magic. The only guard unaccounted for was the guard captain…
"What you do!?" demands a voice as she tries to slip around a corner undetected. It was Captain Zhu, Ingrid nearly had a heart attack, he snuck up on her so well and she was sensing for people as well. She quickly assessed the situation and determined that it was salvageable. She collected herself and spoke in her broken rettanese something along the lines of she was worried for his men because she had also encountered the Traveler. She tried to come off genuine but she couldn’t tell if she was really understood. At the very least Captain Zhu sent her back off to her room without any issue. Still, she was surprised how easy she was to sneak up on. Time to get some rest for tomorrow before it's too late, afterall there are no Zeno Bucks here.
When they woke up in the morning, Xiulan was not there. It was cool and overcast and the cityscape was red and gold and increasingly barren brown where trees peeked out among the sea of rooftops. In fact, she was not there for the start of breakfast either and, when she arrived, sweat pasted a few stray locks of hair to her forehead and she was noticeably out of breath despite her efforts to hide it. People had already started eating and the meal consisted of items one might not normally have considered 'morning food'.
"Very sorry!" she chirped, sliding into a seat beside Yalen. "I have some sings to arrange zis morning. We have a busy day!" They bundled up as they ate, but the inn was kept quite warm and it wasn't strictly necessary. Yin and Mr. Wei scurried about, attending to everything they needed and a good many things that they didn't. If one were to look carefully, it would be evident that both seemed to have bags under their eyes, and the younger of the two quickly hid a yawn at more than one point. They were nothing if not professional, however: all smiles and helpfulness when they needed to be.
A couple of the students, as well, were possibly not as... bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as they might've been. Kaureerah picked at her guitar a bit listlessly as a couple of fleeting, significant glances passed between her and Yalen. Maura was perhaps a bit less energetic than usual. She had been out last night, scouting some locations by the docks, and she had sensed something, fleetingly, as if it were the echo of some great distant 'crash': intense magic use, and powerful. It had been too much to ask for her to follow it, however, and she had returned to familiarizing herself with the area unsupervised, not entirely sure what - if anything - she was searching for. She had employed magic sparingly, when needed, to help her navigate the built environment or light her way. Yet, after some time doing this, she could sense them at the fringes of her range: people, always people following her, and brief flares of minor magic use, but never more, and never getting too close.
It was a different world by day, and how alien yet familiar, how exciting and new and gorgeous Retan was! Xiulan seemed eager to split her time mostly between Yalen and Maura as they were led through the spice market and the textile market. There was some time to shop, escorted for their own safety, of course, before they were taken to see a customs house, invited into a beautiful island pavillion in a lake within a walled garden for tea, and then shown around what was called a 'Guardian Station'. The uniforms of the people there seemed to vary by department, though the majority were blue, red, and orange, with a smattering of green, brown, and gold, the last of them similar to those of their escort. There, they were each given a folder to study for later, with details of the gruesome murders of mostly-minor government officials by the Traveler's Agent, who local law enforcement had nicknamed the 'Pale Ghost'.
Wherever the group of foreigners went, save the Station, curious onlookers seemed to follow them and some attempted to sell them items. Even within the station, a few still craned their necks or stole glances or whispered among their fellows. During this time, they saw not a single Constantian or Severan face, much less anything more exotic.
It was the later afternoon by the time they were led to a restaurant at the edge of a great plaza, where the colourful Exemplar of Creation and Destruction, Wu Long, was waiting for them in his official robes, surrounded by orderlies and guards who he soon dismissed to other tables to be treated to a dinner well above their pay grade. "Good to see you," he greeted each of the students, somehow able to recall all of their names. "Your first full day in ReTan," he remarked, leading them to a table. "How invigorating, I'm sure. How exciting. I bet you learned much." His tone was... queer. Was it sarcasm? Was he simply that earnest? Was he probing?
Their host made polite conversation with them all, and they found him somewhat more open than the others they had spoken with. When Rikard, sitting beside Xiulan, commented that they were being rather purposely and prominently displayed on the patio, she blushed and her eyes darted about awkwardly for the umpteenth time that evening, but the Exemplar merely let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, absolutely!" he confirmed, "for that is the Retanese way." He took a moment to dab at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "I find we are an odd paradox, as a people: very taken with displays of influence, wealth, and exclusivity, yet sneaky." He nodded. "We are sneaky, I fear, as you may have already gathered, and opaque."
The sun was getting low as dinner was served, its golden rays like great fingers of light across the flagstones, long and lengthening shadows separating them. People bustled about on their evening business, some pausing to glance at the odd group so displayed on the patio. When they noticed the Exemplar, they bowed deeply in his presence and, receiving a nod, continued on their way. "This is my country," Wu Long assured them, "and I love it despite its imperfections."
Indeed, there were families walking about, young couples holding hands or kissing under trees, and children running about, their play powered mostly by imagination. In particular, two little boys had been at it for some time, one moving as if in a bubble of slow time and the other always trying to get in behind him. They'd now broken into something of an argument. "但我是睡鲤鱼。你应该慢慢绕着我走!(But I'm Sleeping Carp. You're supposed to move slowly around me!) the former insisted. "不!我是笑鱿鱼也许我用了我的特殊能力,我已经在你身后了。" (No! I'm Laughing Squid. Maybe I used my special ability and I'm already behind you.) They continued bickering for another minute or so before they moved on, and some of the group idly watched them.
Captain Zhu plucked up the courage to speak, then, when the show was over. He had been quiet and deeply respectful int he presence of one so revered. It was Xiulan who translated for him. "You may have notice how little magic used here," she said, and he continued for her to translate further. "We know zat zis is not ze way of your land." As he spoke, she spoke. "But we belief it is better for few trusted people have it when we need zan everybody." He gestured outward in an all-encompassing gesture and Wu Long was silent, poised and listening. "You see how peaceful and prosperity it has make our nation."
The Exemplar stabbed at his food with his chopsticks and bit down. "Well spoken, Captain..." He quickly repeated himself in Retanese. Captain Zhu bowed his head crisply and deeply.
The sun began to set in earnest and lanterns glowed ever brighter into the burgeoning gloom. It was then that those not already drunk on their fifth cup of baiju and alert enough towards their surroundings may have noticed something: magic use. Their host noticed it too, and he straightened. Five men and a woman in grey uniforms similar to those of the Guardians strode briskly towards one of the large and opulent houses across the square. People cut them a wide berth, bordering on outright fear.
Wu Long began cleaning himself up and the students would feel a significant amount of energy drawn his way, but he remained outwardly nonchalant, even as the area began to feel almost-uncomfortably warm. Captain Zhu rose to his feet and barked out orders to his men. Dai, Huang, Xie, and Peng quickly joined him, drawing as well. Wang, Chen, Zhang, and Zheng spread out. "我应该把它们带到安全的地方吗?" (should I take them somewhere safe?) Xiulan inquired with some urgency, but Wu Long merely dusted some crumbs from his robes and tilted his head to one side. "No," he replied in Avincian, much to the translator's visible distress and a worried look from Captain Zhu. "It is not business that concerns us anyhow, and I think our guests can handle themselves should the need arise, else why would they be here?" He addressed the biros. "Get ready for a show, I think. You're about to see the Grey Ghosts in action." His eyes narrowed and an almost predatory smile creased his lips.
From inside the house, some two hundred yards distant, came flares of quick, precise, powerful magic. Then, to Kaureerah's shock and dismay, an older man was dragged out into the street and flung roughly to the pavement by two of the grey-robed figures. "你的主人在哪里!?" (Where is your master?) demanded the sole woman of the group. She was beautiful, but steely-eyed and severe in bearing. "不知道!" (Don't know!) he insisted, "我不知道!" (I don't know!) he cried.
"我不相信你" (I don't believe you.) came the frosty reply. The already-thinning crowds swirled back to a distance, radiating fear, but they did not entirely flee as kicks rained down upon the old servant. "What's his crime?" Kaureerah blurted, clearly distraught at the display. "How do they know he's guilty!?"
Xiulan shifted uncomfortably, but she put on a sympathetic smile and grabbed hold of the eeiako's hand. "I know it is... distressing," she admitted, and Kaureerah noticed that her hand was trembling, "But if the Grey Ghosts come for him, he is guilty already. One hundred percent, or he's master. He has been done some very bad sing. Do not to worry."
Wu Long sat there, tall and stoic, expression unreadable. "Do not worry," he repeated, with slightly better grammar, "This is Retan."
Ashon approached the herbalist healer’s house. He would have had assumed Casii took an interest here, but the shop next door was far more exciting for her and Cal, and it wouldn’t be fair to deprive them of that. As he approached the herbalist's house, it was easy to tell that the locals respected the building with a sense of reverence. It is an old building which is not in keeping with the more modern surrounding ones, speaking of how within its walls lies the healing knowledge of centuries past. The shop itself is a small, humble abode, with a thatched roof and wooden shutters on the windows. A small garden lies out front which extends around the side and far behind it was bursting with a variety of herbs, flowers, and plants.
He enters as the rich scent of dried herbs fills his senses, passing through the beads at the entrance to help keep out insects, as he is greeted by the sight of shelves lining the walls, filled to the brim with various jars and containers of herbs and remedies. The shelves themselves are made of rough-hewn wood, and each one is labelled in spidery handwriting, denoting the contents within.
The shop appeared to be presently empty as he began to browse the interior. He moved to pick up a jar of dried chamomile flowers, peering through the glass as he read the note which appeared to imply these were perfect for soothing stomach pains and promoting restful sleep. He inspected a bunch of fresh mint, as he breathed in the crisp aroma, similarly a note said about aiding digestion and freshening breath, as he thought about Penny for a moment, taking a leaf and chewing upon it. The pot next to it was pungent in its fragrance, the note describing it as rosemary, which can help stop wounds from becoming infected and also aid memory retention. In the corner, stood a bundle of sage, which was perfect for burning to purify the air or to soothe sore throats when brewed as a tea. Next to it, a jar of goldenrod, which is used to treat respiratory infections and inflammation, whilst laying to the side of it, a bundle of dried lavender, which is commonly used to aid in relaxation and promote calmness.
As Ashon wanders further into the herbalist's abode, he notices that even the walls were adorned with wreaths of dried flowers and herbs, hung in various places throughout the house. He spied a bunch of St. John's wort, the note describing its use for its anti-inflammatory properties and its ability to treat depression and anxiety, as a small pot of Echinacea, perfect for boosting the immune system, sits on a nearby table. Whoever ran this place, it is clear, it was a treasure trove of healing remedies and natural cures. Every shelf, every corner, is filled to the brim with the wisdom of nature.
The herbalist enters through from a rear and approached Ashon with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. She pauses for a moment, taking in his presence, and then speaks in a soft, yet enigmatic voice in native Kerreman: "Welcome, dear traveller. You've come to the right place, but perhaps not for what you seek. The secrets of nature are hidden deep, but fear not, for I am here to guide you. Let the winds of change carry you to what you truly need."
Ashon raised his eyebrow to the woman, regarding her presence as he adopted a wide sincere grin, “Oh wise one, fear not, I come seeking not only herbs, but also wisdom from a great one such as yourself."
“He who seeks answers must be willing to look beyond the surface. So too must he who seeks healing look beyond the leaves and roots. Come, see what I have prepared for those who seek more than just the ingredients." She cast her hand to the collection of made potions as she started to pick and describe the use of each one.
“I am a potion of green and gold, I cure the body and make it bold. From a wound, I'll stop the bleeding, and help you get back to eating.” Healing potion: This potion is made from a blend of herbs that promote healing, such as yarrow, chamomile, and comfrey. When consumed, it can help to heal wounds and injuries, and can even be effective against some illnesses.
“When dreams elude you and slumber seems far, This potion of roots shall help you reach the stars. Its scent is pungent, its taste is strong, But drink it down and sleep will come along.” Sleep potion: This potion is made from a blend of herbs that promote relaxation and sleep, such as valerian root, lavender, and passionflower. It can be useful for people who have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep, or for those who need help calming down after a stressful day.
"I am a brew of purple and blue, a potion that can mend bones anew. I'll take away the pain and strife, and let you live a happy life." Pain relief potion: This potion is made from a blend of herbs that can help to alleviate pain and inflammation, such as willow bark, ginger, and turmeric. It can be useful for people who suffer from chronic pain, as well as for those who have acute pain due to injury or illness.
“I am warm and spicy, But don't be hasty. Drink me slow, And your digestion will glow.” Digestive potion: This potion is made from a blend of herbs that can help to soothe and improve digestion, such as peppermint, fennel, and ginger. It can be useful for people who suffer from indigestion, bloating, or other digestive issues.
“I am a potion made of dark purple hue, With elderberry, I'm perfect for you. Drink me up and I'll help you fight, Against the illness, I'll make things right.” Immune-boosting potion: This potion is made from a blend of herbs that can help to strengthen the immune system, such as echinacea, elderberry, and astragalus. It can be useful for people who are prone to getting sick, or for those who are recovering from an illness or infection.
Ashon was rather impressed with the knowledge and collection. He had some knowledge through his alchemy class, but seeing it within this environment was something different, it inspired him to learn more. It was when he spied upon two vials which were not offered in the corner. “I see you have a corner with potions, may I know what is in those?”
She looked toward him in a questioning manner, ”Skuggvar”. As her hands moved over to the two vials, grasping a hold of them. “The one that brings life is as bitter as death, and the one that brings death is as sweet as life.” Shaking the pair of vials in front of his eyes.
After some haggling and negotiation, he arranged to stock potion supplies for the party, including the Skuggvar vials, and paid a princely sum in local currency with a few bennies thrown in to bulk up the amount. After both parties seemed satisfied, he picked up the basket to return to the inn.
It was when he put down his lucky stick against the counter, the woman started to cuss and curse at him. “Your walking stick is of cursed wood, it brings bad luck to those who wield it with good. Take it far from here, lest the curse follow and harm us all here.”
He awkwardly picked up his stick, scratching his back with it, dismissing the woman's concerns as he started to walk off from the shop. As he approached the door, he noticed the woman throw something at him. “It carries the stench of death, it draws dark spirits near. Keep it close, and they'll take you with them!” A ward against dark spirits? He caught it as he inspected the bag of powdered Plushtail, placing that in his pocket for later.
Desmond looked to Yalen, as the younger man spoke to him about bringing the others back safe, Desmond smiled and said, "Of course, you talking like-", Desmond instantly clenched his teeth as he felt an energy begin to work it's way into him, at first he fought it and nearly broke the connection. He had felt this energy multiple times now, as it was something he was familiar with at this point, a Command. Desmond then heard a word leave Yalen's mouth and sighed, it seemed it was a friendly Command. Desmond felt himself nearly break the connection, yet allowed it to go through, as he heard the priest roar to life and so too did Desmond's own manas and power.
It was something Desmond had now felt countless times, an over flowing of mana that well exceeded his own natural amount. Yet it also felt uncomfortable, he could feel his body shift, his blood vessels expanding, his heart beating harder and faster, he could even feel slight tinges of pain here and there as the amount of manas swelled and almost blocked blood flow. He let out a sigh as he said, "This feels weird, but thanks, this should do some good then. I'll make sure they come back". Desmond gives Yalen a nod and a pat on the shoulder before he looks to the others, preparing to leave. Desmond drew from his own gravity and began to float while saying, "Let's go save some damsels".
Desmond had made it to the fight around the same time Benedetto did, using Chemical, Kinetic, and magnetic magic to increase his propulsion. Yet he was met with a sight, a Royal Sand Wyrm just staring down onto them, as he was caught up on the gist of the situation and then ordered to do something, he said one thing, "Ayla, why are you always trying to tame everything we find?" It seemed most others were in agreement, taming it was the least of their priorities, as the moment the beast was given some food from Jocasta it left, allowing them to head into her portal with the Rangers, allowing them to maybe find where the temporal ripples are coming from. Desmond agreed and began to enter the portal saying, "Time's a wastin'. If we wanna find out who sent that beast at ya, we better start where the Ranger says it might be".
"The door, Ayla! Help me with the door!" We get it closed just on time but, already, more of those tiny, metallic, flesh-eating beetles are pouring through and a moment of doubt takes me. I can't outrun them. I'm not fast. I've never been fast. One leaps at my face, tracing a glowing orange line through the sky, and I can hear that awful snapping and clicking they man. The air boils and distorts with heat and I draw as much as I can in and hammer the bugs back with a kinetic wave.
Ayla's trying something sonic and I feel my ears ring, but then I'm turning and running, disoriented by her careless attack. For what it's worth, she drops a couple dozen, but there are thousands now. More come for me. They're vicious and uncannily smart. They go straight for my head and my legs. If I raise my arms out of instinct to protect the former, they slip in and go for the soft bits around my sides. Brilliant, multicoloured streaks of light, they'd be entrancingly beautiful were they not vile hellspawn bent on my murder.
A bunch are in Ayla's hair and she tries to crush them with that prehensile trick she does, but they're tough, too! A handful land on her midsection and I scream for her to watch out, flicking a couple away while she crushes a third, but the fourth one flares and she's hurled away, a great big smoking burn all along her side. She lets out a pained cry and sprawls across the ground. "Nine lives, Kitty Cat! Come on!" I spare a few seconds and disintegrate some bugs to heal her, but they're fast and she's not quite good as new. She's on her feet, though, thanking me, and we're not cooked yet. Five months ago, when my tethering was out of control, I'd have been dead, full stop. I still might be. This is bad. Very bad.
I hit them with Arc Lightning once there are more, and it must fry upwards of a hundred, lighting up the dark and ruined halls of Zarfan like the middle of the day for a moment, but this is a straightaway and, even as we thin their numbers, more just pour in, and they gain on us.
Dimly, we can sense the others. I reach out as Ayla tries another of those pulses and it seems to placate the leading edge of the swarm, but more just overtake them. I know, vaguely, where Zarina and Tku are, fighting something insidious that I can't quite detect. I can feel the bursts of Desmond's gun and Fiske's Chemical Magic as swarms of something fiendishly fast envelop them. A colossal atomic something from Benedetto complements Evander's lightning, similar to my own, but their enemies are a pair of huge and stout I-don't-know-whats. Finally, there is the awe-inspiring power of Jocasta and Yalen. Whatever the couple that slays together is facing, they make quick work of it. Yet, they seem to have no more luck than Ayla and I in breaking through this weird magical fog that lives in the walls.
Ayla shouts at me to jump, and I do. Moments later, we're sliding down some kind of steep slope, the demon scarabs receding into the back, their burning, chittering mass still lighting up the path behind us. She saw one of those arrows, she explains. It's our working theory that Jocasta's been able to break through just enough to put them up. She's trying to direct us all to a meeting point by the temporal heart. I'm skeptical, but Ayla believes in her and I know my mother does, so I have to do what I'm worst at and trust. It's not like we have options.
The ground comes up fast, just as I try to brighten our way with a basic Arcane skill. I brake hard and fill myself with Kinetic force, but I can still feel an unwelcome twinge in my ankle. My Torragonese partner lands more smoothly and we find ourselves in a truly vast chamber. I brighten my light as I try to heal my ankle, and the great dim outlines of houses, palaces, and ziggurats loom, tenebrous, in the cavernous depths.
Then, there's the sound of the swarm again, and the tunnel entrance begins to glow like the mouth of a dragon just before it belches fire. "Run, Ayla!" I scream, but she's already doing it, slowing herself just enough so I can kind of keep up. I draw again, slowing a bit as I do so and converting on the spot. Wicked forks of lightning whip and spit across the ruined city and spider up the swarm until hundreds of scarabs ignite, but I spend too much time admiring my handiwork. The vanguard is already upon us. I feel a burst of impossible heat right behind me and the trailing hem of my dress - or the tattered edge of what's left of it is on fire! Ayla's hair cracks and swishes, batting scarabs away, but then three blow themselves and the area around her glows gold, blue, and purple for a moment. She's hurled away, hair fried up to shoulder length, and hits the ground, picking herself up as I push another wave back and she unleashes a blast of light to stun the onslaught. There has to be an arrow. Please, Jocasta! There has to be! I try to do something about Ayla's scrapes and bruises, but I can barely see, much less run and fight and try to find the arrow. It's too much! It's all too -
My foot catches on something. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm flying, and then falling, and that's when I see the arrow. It's illuminating a set of great double doors and beyond them I can sense the familiar swirl of temporal magic. Then, the ground is there and the bugs are surrounding me and I realize that I should've focused on staying on my feet. Then, I wouldn't be about to die.
It is at this moment that we find our ten heroes separated into pairs and fighting for their very lives. Yes, I say 'ten heroes' because Yalen has decided to remain yet longer and Isabella is not among them. She is, at this very moment, back at San Agustin, courtesy of the Jocasta portal that brought Manuel Escarra and his rangers back and Marceline through to unite with her friends: a decision that, in retrospect, has proven to be her worst in some time.
As the Goddess of Death, I take no pleasure in people's suffering, much as I look forward to their entrance into my realm. Marceline is in grave danger and so are a couple of others. Is it their time? I cannot, in good faith, answer that question right now. Desmond has been drained of a good deal of his power and he does not see the Demon Bat coming up from behind and below. There are oh so many and Fiske cannot seem to successfully hide from them. They... detect him somehow, even with his magic in play. Benedetto has been hammering at the Sandy Threshers for some time, but they seem impervious to his atomic blasts and grounded against Evander's lightning. Both appear too proud to give any ground and I feel that I will soon be able to reel in their threads if they do not make a change. As for Zarina? She finds herself against an enemy that no armour will protect against and no amount of power repel. A sentient fog: quick, swirling, and endlessly reforming if dispelled, follows herself and Tku, its very presence blunting their senses, slowing their reactions, and draining them of their vitality. From it emerge skeletal monkeys, horses, and frogs, piling themselves at the pair, the dust created when they're destroyed or dispelled deadening the very magic in the air. Oh, and as for Yalen and Jocasta? They find themselves in the Hall of Needles, where the air itself burns and melts upon contact with them and small needles of obsidian launch themselves from the walls, floor, and ceiling by the hundreds.
It is said that the Dead City is a cursed place, so how is it that these ten fools ended up here? An investigation. After leaving a content and slightly bemused sand wyrm behind them, they followed a ranger's direction, their own magic senses, and consulted the message in the tube. It began glowing with an arrow to point them inexorably towards the city and inside of it: one that Jocasta replicated as a sort of signal. As the light of the outside world faded and they traveled ever deeper, strange energies swirled, for this was an ancient and cruel place and they could feel the weight of temporal energy at its very heart, beckoning to them just beyond a familiar challenge: mundane and not dissimilar to one already encountered by Zarina and Jocasta in another ancient place a good ways distant. A simple puzzle of colours and fives and splitting up for what was supposed to be mere seconds, it was spoken of in grateful terms, almost dismissive ones by some.
Their reward for solving it, however? THIS. Will they escape? How will they escape? For most, the arrows beckon. Are they Jocasta's work or someone else's? There is something familiar about them, for what it's worth. Do the other eight dare trust their only lead? What awaits on the other side of the doors they all now approach?
I cannot, in good faith, answer these questions. Only they can.
Primitive, Chapter Three: End of the Tunnel, begins! || ♫
Meanwhile, the night before on the Metropolis mission...
Pointless... How utterly pointless.
So long they spent on pleasantries and yet nearly no time was spent in pursuit of this supposed agent of the Traveller that they were supposed to assist in catching. It seemed strange enough that a largely reclusive country would invite students to solve an internal dispute with agents of the Traveller. Any country with a self sufficient government would likely have mages of their own to take care of such matters so given how placid the state of matters was this was likely a political arrangement. As such Yalen's news came as no surprise to her.
"I suspect until the traveller's agent forces their hand our 'escort' is unlikely to afford us much freedom to pursue clues."
_ Such was as much as she had to say on the matter for that night. The food was sufficient. She ate not to taste but to absorb a sufficient amount of nutrients for her body to distribute. Needless to say her meal was terminated far earlier than most of the other students who went about pursuing other matters whilst she returned to her room to wait. It was annoying to feel as useless as she felt here. Without grounding in the culture or even the language she was mostly left to support the efforts of the others, keeping her magic use minimal to avoid exposing too much of her specialties preemptively. She kept to mystical forms of scanning exclusively, waiting for a moment where her skills might be required.
Perhaps there was an eagerness to validate her art, to prove that she can do more good than harm with what she's studied. On the other hand she was quite happy with the night passing without a bloodbath. Having to demonstrate her skills publicly would put her at risk of more scrutiny and she had underwent more than her desired share of that already.
Meanwhile, Metropolis mission, present day...
It was no mystery to her that some of her team members had gone out during the night to engage in extra-judicial activities. She had that particular matter already factored into this investigation plan. What bothered her was that she was unable to keep track of them. Without means of contacting them it would have been all to easy for any one of them to have been killed without any hope of interception from the main group body. Aside from that the main consequence appeared to be that their efforts over the night left them lacking in fervor for the daytime. Rookie behavior really.
Trypano ate little and spoke even less. Small talk was for small people. She had some respect for those who could pick through the broken language of these people and gather small hints of info from it but she had her suspicions that many of her schoolmates were not conversing tactically. Alas, it spared her the time to review the details around them while they were caught up in this theater of words.
_ The land was much like a wealthy lord's trophy wife, plenty of splendor and glitter. As they say however heavy makeup conceals the bruising. She looked not for all that was good with this land for a land that was good would have no need for their ilk around. Her eyes looked to the people around them. Their guides, their guards, possibly other things concealing themselves magically. Beneath all the gold, silver, silk and armor her attention was on the meat stuffed within. Who was weary, who's pulse was higher than resting, which guards were watching and which were otherwise occupied. As an outsider she studied them as an outsider might, peering at their little lives from above, perhaps literally given her height.
Only the folders on the details of the murders they were meant to be investigating took her attention away from this. She had made a request to see the bodies themselves but it seemed they would need to receive clearance first before they'd be authorized to inspect them. Something told her that they were unlikely to gleam anything useful from the evidence by the time it would be sanitized for their viewing. She'd need to wait for a fresher corpse to inspect, something she was sure would be showing up given these recent spikes in magic activity.
_ Much rhetoric was spoken by the Exemplar Wu Long as well as the captain in regards to their own land. She listened, but in lieu of response she kept her focus on the states of those around her. Words were plenty and cheap to trade but a bullet or well placed dark bolt could shift the dynamic of this conversation drastically should they be caught unawares. Out of politeness she ate alongside the others but she did not drink and her eating was purposefully slow, taking in little while her mind remained alert. The opportunity to wax philosophically on their culture was better spared for times when other's lives were not at stake.
It seemed an incident was taking place nearby. The guards seemed uneasy but the Exemplar thought it fit to let them spectate this, perhaps as a demonstration of sorts. A flexing of their power or even a subtle warning.
Of course Kaureerah, seemingly unaware of their own situation, exclaimed in righteous shock at this. One of the others would be better fit to de-escalate this situation, she would not weigh in on this matter.
She quietly hoped her team members had a single diplomatic bone in their bodies. Having to help them survive a blood-bath against Retan's many magi would be grueling and an international incident to say the least. All attention she definitely didn't need. Involved - @dragonpiece,@Force and Fury,@YummyYummy,@pantothenic,@McKennaJ71,@Ti.
Ayla and Marci were frantically trying to push the heavy door closed, but the beetles were hot on their heels. The door was old and warped, and it resisted their efforts to shut it. Sweat beads on their foreheads as they strained against the door, their muscles trembling with exertion. The sound of the beetles grew louder and more frenzied, and Ayla can feel as if their hot breath was against her neck. With her back against the door, she glanced over her shoulder through the gap as she saw the swarm closing in, their mandibles snapping hungrily. With a burst of strength, she shoved the door to shut it, but it only budged a fraction of an inch. Marci screamed as one of the beetles nips at her heel, and Ayla gritted her teeth in determination. They couldn't give up now, not when they were so close to safety. Bracing her feet against the ground, Ayla put all her weight behind the door, while Marci scrambled to help. The beetle swarm was almost upon them, and Ayla heard awful snapping and clicking through the crack in the door. She felt a surge of panic, but couldn't let it overcome her. Channelling all her fear into one final push, the door slammed shut with a deafening boom. The beetles screeched in frustration, their bodies slamming into the stone barrier. For a moment, Ayla and Marci stood there, panting and trembling, listening to the furious buzzing of the beetles on the other side. The door held, for now. But Ayla knew they couldn't rest for long, as there were more on the path ahead.
As the beetles closed in on Ayla and Marci, Ayla knew she had to act fast. She reached for her flute, took a deep breath to calm her racing heart, and began to play. A low and mournful melody at first, but gradually building in intensity, the sound waves collided with the beetles, destabilizing them and driving them back. The swarm writhed and twisted in the air, confused and disoriented by the assault on their senses. Ayla continued to play, the notes of her flute weaving a complex and beautiful pattern in the air as she directed the sonic magic to push the beetles further away. As she played, she focused her mind on her sonic magic, feeling the power flow through her fingertips. She changed the notes, moving them higher and higher until they became a piercing, high-pitched frequency that cut through the air like a knife. A couple dozen of the creatures fell from the air, buying some time, but there were still thousands heading in their direction.
The attacks were relentless, Ayla crushed three of the beetles that landed on her midsection, feeling a momentary sense of relief. However, her victory was short-lived, as the fourth and hidden beetle suddenly flared and self-destructed. The blast sent Ayla flying, and she landed on the ground, groaning in pain. Struggling to get back on her feet, Ayla found the pain too intense. Marci rushed over to her, attempting to patch up her wounds with binding magic. "Nine lives, Kitty Cat! Come on!" Ayla winced as Marci's quick work left her with a wound that would need to be redone later. Despite the pain, Ayla forced herself to stand up. She couldn't afford to stay down, not when they were still being pursued by the relentless swarm of beetles. With a determined look in her eyes, she readied her flute once again, determined to keep the swarm at bay.
As they journeyed and pushed forward, they eventually entered into a vast chamber as their senses were suddenly overwhelmed by its grandeur and immensity. The air is thick with the scent of dust and ancient stone, and their footsteps echo hollowly against the hard ground. As Marci brightened her light, the darkness receded, revealing the imposing structures that surrounded the girls. The outlines of houses, palaces, and ziggurats emerge from the shadows, their forms massive and imposing. They seem to stretch endlessly upwards, reaching towards the distant ceiling of the chamber. They loom in the cavernous depths like giants, casting deep shadows that seem to pulse and writhe. Their details are shrouded in mystery, hidden by the murky atmosphere and the passage of time. The very air seems to hold secrets, whispering tales of the long-forgotten ancient Zaqhory civilization and the mysteries they left behind. The darkness seemed to threaten to overwhelm them with its weight and enormity.
As the beetles started to close in through one of the side entrances, their frenzied buzzing grew louder and more intense. Marci's eyes narrowed as she focused her magic, calling forth a crackling bolt of lightning that blazed through the air, striking the swarm with deadly accuracy. The beetles writhed and twitched as they were electrocuted, but their numbers were still too great. They pressed on, their mandibles snapping hungrily as they closed in on their prey. Ayla's heart raced as she watched the beetles draw nearer, their bodies writhing and twisting in the air like a swarm of angry hornets. She knew they were in trouble, but she refused to give up and with determination in her eyes. With a fierce roar, Ayla whipped her hair around, the thick curls lashing out like a whip. The beetles screeched in fury as they were struck, their bodies tumbling through the air. Ayla continued to lash out, her hair flying in all directions as she drove the beetles back. But even as she fought, Ayla knew that they couldn't hold out forever. She watched in horror as several of the beetles self-destructed, their bodies exploding in a burst of fire and shrapnel. A wave of heat washed over her, and she felt her hair singe and burn as the flames licked at her skin. With a desperate cry, Ayla shielded herself and Marci with her hair, using it as a barrier against the fiery onslaught. The strands hissed and crackled as they were consumed by the flames, but they held fast, protecting the pair from harm. When the smoke cleared and the danger had passed, Ayla lowered her hair, gasping for breath. She felt her scalp stinging, and when she touched her hair, she could feel that it was badly burnt. The once-beautiful waist-length curls were now ragged and singed, barely reaching her shoulders. But Ayla knew that her sacrifice had been worth it, for they had survived.
Ayla's heart jumped as she caught sight of the arrow, guiding her towards the double doors ahead. Beyond them, she knew, was the temporal magic that could only have been left behind by Jocasta they had been searching for. However, her excitement was short-lived as she heard Marci collapse behind her. The swarm was upon them, and Marci's screams echoed in her ears. Ayla was frozen, torn between her own safety and that of her friend. She felt utterly powerless, tears streaming down her face as the water formed into blue flame. She looked at her hands, watching as the fire pooled within them as an idea formed in her mind. More of Ayla's body started to erupt into blue flame, along the length of sweat drenched clothing. With newfound strength, Ayla charged towards Marci and the swarm of beetles threatening to engulf her. The intense blue flame radiating from Ayla's body as she disappeared into the body of the swarm, replaced by a darkness as she appeared to have consumed. There was silence for a brief moment before she created an explosion, sending the beetles flying away as molten slag. "You have flight, so fly, you fool!" Ayla shouted, urging Marci to flee towards the door. But Ayla knew she couldn't hold them off forever. She continued to fight back with all her pyromancer might, pushing back the tendrils of the swarm as she shielded Marci. The dry heat of the ruin was causing the water to evaporate faster than she could reuse it, and Ayla could feel her strength waning. "Hold the door!" she yelled, using the last of her strength to propel herself towards it.
From the Inn, a walk eastward through a straight path led to the impressive Church that was only matched by the castle further north in size. Not quite a cathedral but certainly bigger than a village’s site of worship, Mandelein was unmistakably Quentic with more care put to the building compared to the more weathered structures that populated the compact streets of the Kerreman town. Sounds of earth being grinded would inevitably bring attention to the plot of land right of the Church. There was a cemetery with a grave in the midst of being dug by the local grave tender.
The house of the Gods was always open to all, figuratively and literally in this case. Inside were sets of pews with a robed young man sat at the front indulging in some reading, rows of candles aligned to the walls being lit by an elderly nun and an ornate altar at the end of a recently cleaned carpet. Behind the altar was a golden tabernacle that stood out in its lavish appearance compared to the more humble colours and decor of the Church.
Emerging from a door leading to one of the quarters behind the establishment was a tall, balding man with a red moustache that easily put Manfred’s to shame. By his liturgical getup and age, it could be deduced that he was the Priest that led this church, “A most warm welcome to Mandelein. I am Father Jacques Dubosque.” he greeted in perfect Avincian and a deep voice, “I trust Ines has offered adequate hospitality even under short notice.” He flashed a smile at the group as he walked closer to them. He had a very clear limp on his right side, although it didn’t seem to really slow him down, “I had been told that there were many of you,” he first conferred a glance toward Dorothea, “of different walks of life,” then Ymiico, “and most interestingly, a sister walking among you.” Finally, his green eyes landed upon Laska. He addressed her specifically, “This could not be a matter of the Church. So I must ask,” he took a seat on a nearby pew and sighed in relief, “what warrants such a visit from such a distinct group to our humble town?”
Meanwhile, the robed man sitting at the front turned to watch the introductions unfold with a playful grin on his face. The nun, on the other hand, was completely unperturbed in her duty.
She was not, of course, the only nun in the church. Edyta Laska was there as well, and she well recognized the trappings of the town’s former glory. She smiled softly at Father Dubosque and bowed in the fashion of the church. “Father,” she greeted him politely, “I am Sister Edyta Laska, of the Red Rezaindians.” She gestured towards the other two. “These are Lady Dorothea Hohnstein of Feska and Ymiico’luun’yoru: a yasoi of Nikan.” She smiled evenly. “I will not mince words with a comrade in faith,” she decided, “for you deserve the truth. If one of my order is here, it is for the reason you have most likely ascertained: there is a monster of a magical nature in your town and I, along with my friends, are here to cleanse it.”
The good father passed his hand over his thigh as Laska presented him with the obligatory introductions followed by clear motives. His eyes drifted again to take in the clergywoman’s entourage, “The ways of the Rezaidian order may have changed since my arrival in Mandelein, but it strikes me as unusual for an envoy of the Church to be sent with the unaffiliated.” Dubosque responded, “Answer me frankly, sister, and I will reciprocate. Has this endeavour been ordered by the Church?” his eyes returned to her with a stern look to them.
“Maybe the senhorita wants to bring the right tools for the job, Jacques.” a voice echoed from the front row of pews as the sound of a loudly closed book punctuated the remark. A man no older than his mid-twenties spoke with a modulated voice, recognizably Segonian by his accent and choice of words. A man with a long stubble and tied, long hair emerged, wearing a Stresian getup that hide his lanky being, “Besides, the Church wouldn’t send an entire squadron over rumours and minor problems, would they?” she shrugged with as he approached the group, his book hidden under his arm, “I believe the sister is capable of answering simple formalities, brother.” remarked the older priest, “That would still leave the question of why such particular interest to Mandelein?”
Dorothea looked around before walking away from the other two to approach the young man back in the front, smiling warmly at the robed figure. ”Guten Tag,” The girl thought to herself before speaking further. ”Sprechen Sie Kerreman oder wäre Avincianisch besser geeignet?”
The monk waved his hands after grabbing his book from under his arm, “Oh, por favor, let’s keep it Avincian. I just arrived.” he smiled charmingly at Dory, his eyes shifting between her crown and more ‘generous’ assets on her, “But Olá! You can call me Baudile, Philosopher of the Stresian Order!” he was one for dramatics, taking a bow before the Feskan and reaching out to seize her hand, offering an introductory kiss to the lady, “From the big capital school, eh? Boa! I’ve only been once to the magic city myself.” he was slick, but Dorothea could easily notice he was often eyeing the headwear.
Sister Laska narrowed her eyes, but only slightly. It could just as easily be taken as a gesture of consideration as one of suspicion. “I attend the academy. I work for the church. One may fulfil both worldly and spiritual duties at once,” the young nun remarked, an idea coming to her. “Is it not so, Father, as the priest of this small town?” She allowed her eyes to rove somewhat pointedly over the unusually ornate tabernacle and other accoutrements.
“I wholeheartedly agree, sister.” he allowed a smile to form as he emerged from his seat with a light grunt. That leg had seen better days, “We do have a duty to the worldly needs of our flock too.” he affirmed, pacing toward the tabernacle and passing by Baudile, “The question still stands, however, Sister. Whether the Church or the School, what made Mandelein so worthy of the prestigious school’s time?” he inquired as he arrived at the altar, one that wasn’t nearly as decorated as the tabernacle, but looked more recent, “Although it is clear they would not have sent your group without certainties. And to that I will confirm the existence of a …” he inhaled loudly as he was mulling over his words, “Scourge that had caused some grief. A scourge we have since taken measures to handle.”
“I come here at the academy’s behest, but I do so to perform the same service I would for the church.” She clasped her hands and followed the priest, glancing at his conspicuous limp. “Pray tell, brother in faith, what is this scourge you refer to?” She now regarded his leg conspicuously. “Was it the cause of the injury that you now so stoically bear?
“You were correct in your assertion, Sister Laska. A so-called beast has caused grief among the townsfolk and our cattle.” he explained, finding support on the altar to sustain his weight, “It started three months ago. Since then we’ve managed to limit the dangers.” then came the subject of his leg, and the mere mention got him to rub his aching thigh, “Hah, that. Is it of your nature to inquire about everything you see, regardless of formalities?” he chuckled to add levity to his question, “It’s an old leg injury from a Skuggvar attack. The damage was simply … Too great.” his smile faded as he peered down to the Menana rested on the altar, “I’d bring my cane but I’m afraid a certain brother has taken the habit of imposing his own cleaning habits.” he shot a glare at brother Baudile.
The Feskan’s face contorted into one of surprise before letting out a sigh. How could she forget that not everyone around the churches were locals. “Ah, Avincian it will be then.” Clearing her throat. “Nice to meet you, mister Baudile. What did you think of Ersand’Enise then?” A wave of discomfort hit the girl as he eyed her headwear. ”Fancy my attire? Or are you perhaps eyeing something else?” Dory smiled warmly. Baudile shook his head and gestured in dismissal, “Oh, pardon me,” he looked her in the eyes, “I’m simply surprised to see such a gorgeous senhorita in this humble Church!” he chuckled, “And for you, I’ll turn a blind eye to not calling me brother!” he gestured over to the pew, inviting Dory to sit, “Ersand’Enise … I remember very vividly a little stand that sold coffee near the school.” he rubbed the his stubble, ”Their crest had a girl’s face on it. Weird, right?”
Dory bowed her head in a playful manner. ”Oh, I’m sorry Brother Baudile.” Soon after taking a seat. ”Ah, I think I know the place you are talking about. I believe it is called ZenoBucks™. Dory thought to herself. ”Ah, so you have been there quite recently?” Baudile crossed his arms, his hand still holding his nondescript book, “A few months ago, around Caldores.” he answered, “I was there to assist my mentor in an investigation that was ending. Some of our brethren went missing around Velles.” the suave monk explained, “But that’s not too important.” he nudged his head to point at Dory’s crown with his chin, “So, Feskan Royal, eh?”
“There should be no formality between we servants of the Pentad,” Edyta added with a smile. “And you will find me curious both by duty and by nature. How else does one master the Gift, after all?” She clasped her hands behind her back, looking about the church in admiration. “Such a beautiful house of worship and I can see how much you care for it and your flock.” There was, this time, a hint of genuine warmth to her smile. “Rest assured that I am here to help you with your problem, to make this place safe for you and all of them.” With that, she unclasped her hands. “And I shall not trouble you much further but, first, pray tell, Father, just how dangerous are those woods? What can one expect were she to venture there? This beast: do you believe it to be a mere rogue skuggvar?”
Jacques Dubosque also gave an admirative gaze to the Church he had led for over twenty years now, “I must apologise, sister.” he looked out at the Church window and its colourful mosaics, his eyes showing a man that had something to say but was gripped by hesitation, “I may have held a bit too much doubt in regards to your intentions.” he admitted, looking down briefly before eventually making eye-contact with his junior, “After a while in my position, you tend to become wary of outsiders, even if they follow the same creed as yourself.” He opened the Menana before him and stopped at a page with the top corner purposefully bent. It had been the basis of his sermon the day prior, and such memories always brought him ease of mind.
“The beast is no Skuggvar. In fact, you won’t find many anymore.” he answered with no signs indicating deception, “The Teufelssumpf, the forest surrounding us, holds many dangerous animals, including Coal Toads. It wouldn’t be wise to venture without some guidance.” then, he called out to the nun in the same tongue that was spoken all around the village. Dorothea could hear it, but again it was quite distinct from the Kerreman she knew. The nun replied with a brief answer, prompting a nod, “There is a man called Viktor. Strong, tall and blonde that is unmistakably Magusjaeger. He has been helping us, and since then there have been far fewer incidents. At this time he’s likely in the forest but …” he took a moment and then nodded as if he had convinced himself of something, “You can probably find him in the Inn you're staying in early in the morning. I’ll have Sister Eberl inform him of your situation.”
“You are a credit to your order, Father.” She bowed in the manner of the church, mind swirling with ideas, and bade him a polite farewell, turning her attention towards Dorothea in case she required assistance and, if not, towards the pews where she might pray for Shune’s wisdom and Eshiran’s strength.
People disappeared around the time of the trials? Was it that team of holy men? The girl always thought they had to go do some kind of divinely inspired mission or something akin to that. She was taken by surprise as the brother pointed at her crown. ”Royalty?... No, no, I could never.” confused by one thing the girl looked at the brother. ”How’d you know I was Feskan by chance?”
“They say Feskans have the … brightest of eyes!” he winked, trying his best to keep his own eyes onto Dory’s, “And the accent. It has a distinct melody to it.” Baudile looked over toward the altar. The exchange was reaching its end and things had to be done, “I’m afraid, Senhorita, that our time together must end for now.” a courteous nod was dedicated to Dory, “If you have any need for help …” he leaned in by her ear, and for a brief moment there was an anti-sound bubble formed around them, “Tomorrow night, the Trade Guild might have something that would interest you. Maybe.” then he backed up, finger-gunned with both hands and eventually retreated to one of the chambers at the back.
Location: Wánggǎng, ReTan Day of the week: Taldes Time: All Day Characters: Abdel, Maura @Ti, Ingrid @dragonpiece, Niallus @McKennaJ71, Yalen @Pantothenic, Trypano @A Lowly Wretch, Reekar @Force and Fury, Kaureerah, Xiulan, Wu Long, Captain Zhu, townsfolk, Dayanara, Qadira, Zorayas
“Bu! Bu …”
Abdel waved his arm in dismissal, his coordination clearly diminished and his voice higher pitched than usual. He was at his fourth glass of local Baiju with no notion of temperance ever crossing his mind. “I’m a uh-” he snapped his fingers, although his movements were impaired enough that no sound came from it, “Dragon friend!” he blurted out just as Zorayas, the infant Trickster Wyrm that wrapped around his body, emerged from his shirt collar to say hi to the group. Yin clapped in amusement as the critter wiggled its little body to the rhythm of laughter and clapping. He was having a good time and did not once deny Maura the chance to have him eat some dumplings.
Then came the late hours, and the team’s lightweight could barely walk, let alone remember where his room was! Thankfully, Maura was here to the rescue. “Yer a guud person Mohra …” he mumbled, cheek on his pillow and drool leaking already, “Wuv yewwww!” his eyes stayed closed, and soon he was already asleep.
A disturbance woke Abdel up in the middle of the night. Was it a scream? Furniture moved? He couldn’t tell with his head still light. His eyes were resisting any attempt to awaken, but he could at least reach out with the gift. “Hnnng, Silas?” he muttered in his sleep. The signature he recognized resembled his mark in Ersand’Enise so much. An eye opened and he saw Maura missing. Where did she go? Too many questions for his still drunken mind. It got far too tiresome when energy signatures came into the mix as he spread himself thin to try and detect his girlfriend too. He fell back to sleep.
When he awoke, Abdel had a hard time distinguishing dream and reality from that brief experience. It felt like a moment of semi-consciousness where reality and dream were hardly distinguishable. Also, his head was killing him! Thankfully, Xiulan was more than willing to share the tea she took for her own hangover.
The day started with another tour, and eventually the group was allowed to visit the streets and commerces. Abdel stayed at the station, however, to address an issue that had been gnawing at him - other than the nightly experience that remained hazy. The stables were his first destination, where he’d find his Skuggvars: Qadira and Dayanara. Both were sedated, although still awake. A specialised beastmaster permitted to use magic had been summoned to appease them, although even then their foreign nature never guaranteed total safety.
When Abdel stepped into the stables, both animals perked up. The carers were delighted to see the “dragon master” arrive to relieve them of their burden and the beasts were growing excited at the scent of their provider. After a bit of walking out of their cages with their muzzles on, the animals found their initial vigour. Abdel wandered about with the Skuggvars close behind him, and he wasn’t oblivious to the stares of awe from the locals. Awe and fear of the unknown, even as adolescents these predators were considerably bulky and the same height as their master.
Still, some were more courageous than others. Some children asked for pets which the teen had to unfortunately deny. Others wanted to draw the animals! One woman, just a few years older than Abdel, came up to the boy with what looked to be an offering, “Prease take! For Lóng Mastah!” she then retreated as Abdel hesitantly accepted the gift wrapped bauble, flushed. What he’d find was … A figurine? A doll? Some called these action figures due to how resilient they were and popular among children.
“它是什麼?很漂亮!(What is it? It is very pretty!)” inquired Abdel with the best of ability. The child that really wanted to pet Dayanara spoke up excitement, “這是一個 風暴雲 可動人偶!真幸運!(It’s a Stormcloud action figure! So Lucky!)” exclaimed the young boy, with Abdel getting bits and pieces to more or less grasp the meaning.
“暴風雲來自黑騎士。學者. (Stormcloud is from the Black Knights/Guard. The Scholar.)” explained the girl. Abdel recognized the term “Black Guard”, however he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. “她從許多瘟疫和枯萎病中拯救了我們的土地。並祝福有天賦的人在她的指導下獲得新的生命” (She saved our land from many plagues and blights. And blesses the gifted with a new life under her tutelage!) an elderly woman that joined the young woman’s side said as she slowly approached. By how gleeful she was to explain this phenomenon, Abdel could deduce that she may have gotten some sort of blessing from this person.
“Xièxiè.” Abdel bowed his head lightly and made the salutation sign with his hands. After showing his action figure to a few more kids, he departed to join his group and pursue whatever his guides had planned.
After a long day of touring and very little of doing the job they were sent to do, Abdel kicked back with another Baiju drink and watched his Skuggvars rest peacefully nearby. The two large animals were fed various meats from the locals that were fascinated, yet reasonably cautious, of the animals with Abdel approval. Many steaks were enjoyed by Qadira and Dayanara.
The addition of Exemplar Wu Long to their dinner, things would get more interesting even if Abdel did not dare to add much to the conversation. He also held back on the drinks out of concern for his potential behaviour toward the Life-and-Death man and his own ferocious animals. A quick glance was shot at the action figure he had sitting by his plate as he heard the children play. For such discreet legends, they were seen as quite the celebrities among the people.
Loving his country despite recognizing its flaws, even if they were quite glaring. Abdel mused, unable to help himself in comparing these words to his own experiences, I guess I feel the same about the Refuge, in some ways. I just hope the bads here aren’t as insidious as they were back home. he took a piece of caramel pork just as things started to get heated.
A man was arrested and questioned by a group known as the Grey Ghosts. The treatment of the man sparked a uniform reaction of displeasure from the foreigners, though the way they were expressed was different. Maura, in particular, favoured explaining a reasoning that could resonate with Wu Long’s experiences and perspective.
Abdel sat by and listened to Maura give his piece on the matter. He didn't expect anything less from the outspoken Torragonese, and envied her for her ability to do so in circumstances like these. ReTan was a different beast entirely and Abdel never felt more compelled to withdraw into silence than he did in this land. His girlfriend's words, however, motivated him to seize the initiative, especially after failing to utilise his investigation skills the other night due to his overindulgence.
“If I may,” his voice was stout and quite audible but his hand meekly rose up as if he needed permission to talk, “Maybe we can get some other leads that don't rely on witness statements.” he stood up, body straight and hands knitted together to make himself appear not all that imposing to Wu Long, “I work as an investigator, or more precisely, people finder, though some call it bounty hunter but that's ...” he scratched his cheek, “an exaggeration.” then he cleared his throat, going back to his point, “I'm experienced in tracking individuals affiliated with small militias, many associated with the Traveler. I could give the premises a scrub to see if I find any leads?”
To add to this proposition, he gestured to the two adolescent beasts that had been rested just outside the patio like guard dogs, “With them, there is no hiding if your culprit hasn't fled the region already.” he looked to Maura and smiled nervously, hoping his pitch could allow them to finally get the ball rolling when it came to their role here. And potentially uncover the truth regarding the situation unfolding before them.
"You are all welcome to exercise your skills in the service of what is right. I shall provide you with my utmost attention in observance." said Wu Long as he absently listened to Abdel’s offer.
Abdel nodded, first to the exemplar, then to Maura. They could figure out this enigma together. The young teen whistled, prompting the ears of his beasts to perk up, “Yip, yip!” he clapped his hand to motivate the animals to rise and get to work. They were to investigate the opulent home from which the older man was taken from.
With the hulking beasts in tow, Abdel entered the building that had supposedly been secured. The Skuggvars, now freed of their muzzles to allow their full detection potential to be realised, began to immediately sniff the premises. By how their blubber shook and their nostrils dilated, it seemed there were many scents, “Now if Maura can get me an item the so-called master valued and kept on their person, this can get easier.” he muttered to himself as he began the investigation.
It did not look like any home he had ever seen. Even if ReTan was as foreign as it got for Abdel, this made little sense. Beyond the clear signs of a fight and ransacking of the place, there was one massive detail anyone could notice: This was some sort of training facility. Weapon racks lined the walls, target dummies were spread out with some shattered and others upright, and the growing frustration of the animals made it clear to Abdel that far more than a few dozen had been here, “They only get this annoyed in very public places … Were there hundreds here?” he rubbed his chin in muse.
The sound of intense scratching disrupted Abdel thoughts. Qadira had started to frantically scratch and bag at the floorboards. Reaching out with the gift netted … Nothing? However, he did notice an odd discrepancy in airflow as he focused on the details. Was there a basement or cellar? As the young Virangish prepared to inspect the floor, Dayanara let out a low and intimidating growl. Her tail whipping even had Abdel show anxiety toward the animals he had thought he had tamed. This was never a good sign. The riled up animal was looking up at the ceiling, and so did the young Tethered.
Above and below, the beasts had found something. Abdel felt a wave of fear flow through him. But it wasn’t enough to stop him from pursuing his job as an investigator. With mild binding magic and kinetic magic, he sought out an opening to the ceiling. What was in there? He really hoped it was some animal Dayanara found alluring.
Marz scoffed as he set his hand on his side, right on top of his hammer, "Might as well see who it is. Standing around gives us nothing but more questions".
Silas nodded at the Hegelan, but made no motion to do anything beyond stand in the same place he'd been sitting.
While the rest of her group discussed and bickered, the Yasoi amoung them was naturally the first to take action. The cliffs might not have been Esmii's native terrain, but they provided more than enough holds and ledges for her to move up and out of the other's sight before most notice she'd begun at all. Once some fourteen feet from the ground they'd begun on, she turned around to observe the object of discussion below.
Sure enough, a young boy was sitting cross-legged atop the rock, staring back at her. It didn't take long to recognize him as the stable-hand from the few days before; unmistakably filthy and small. A small trail of crumbs lead from his mouth down a soiled shirt, and finally to a small pile on the rocks between his thin knees; the remains of their rations, it could be presumed.
Silas's not-eyes stared, unseeing, back at Nazih "He wasn't doing nothing before" He replied with a shrug, then lifted his own pack to be inspected. Unlike most of the others, it was free of obvious tears and holes, but none the less empty. "Stole whatever the rats didn't get." Silas' face turned upwards to glare at the figure still sleeping beyond the overhang.
Yuli brushed herself off from the dust of the mountains and the steppes. She was hungry, both for blood and for food at this point. Being a nomad did not suit her lifestyle, and she was half tempted to subsist off the mana brews that she'd bought in the hegelan city. Still, her annoyance was peaked by the powergazer. She had first felt endearment to the lad, when they had undergone their plan in the trials, but he was a known shifty character at this point, and she couldn't help but feel as if he was responsible for some of the troubles that had been plaguing them thus far.
"Why is your pack fine? Is empty, but no damage. And why would not say anything? You aren't even supposed be here! she shouted accusingly at the lad. Were she not famished and angry at the situation, she might have chosen a more stealthy approach but the time had passed for such measures in her mind as she was very ready to beat the snot out of this would-be informant just to make herself feel better at this point.
Once realising that it's a boy from the stables a few days ago "If you lot are finished discussing whatever it was. It seems we were being followed by one of the stable-hands that we met. And it seems that he is covered in crumbs." she informs the group below her
Ah, a fight between a merchant and a commoner breaking out might be just the entertainment the Perrench lad could use at a time like this, however there was no need for hostilities still. "Perhaps he just got lucky. Even if he is not supposed to be here a helping hand is always appreciated."
A smug grin appeared on Yvain’s face after he finished saying his piece. "Oh, if you do choose to fight with one another. He paused. "Then I will have to be forced to end said quarrel and I promise I won't be gentle."
Silas’ face darkened with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Some fear too, if he was honest with himself; he’d gone to great effort to avoid Yuliya at all costs for some time, after all.
“Just told you- I got robbed.” He shook his pack in demonstration, nothing but a cloth and two bennies fell out; the latter of which the boy quickly scrambled to collect again. But Yvain’s words didn’t go unnoticed.
“I’m supposed to be here much as any of you!” Silas spat out incredulously, “Ain’t nothing to even end- snail-sucking prick.” He finished, the last of his anger spat at the Perrench boy. It wasn’t fair. None of this was his fault, and offering help had gotten him nothing but condescension and more blame. He glared and fell back to his initial seated position, arms crossed and indignant, as Esmii’s shouts echoed from above.
Being ignored by the others, Esmii rolls her eyes and scoffs looking down at her group bickering with each other. "Boys..." she mumbles to herself. "As I was saying. A boy has been following us, he came from the stables a few days, and he's covered in crumbs. Did you hear me that time?" she shouts down once again, next time, she'll throw something at them.
Marz heard the constant bickering of those behind him, and let out a sigh as he rolled his eyes. He was about to turn and bark out until he heard the short long foot call down with information about who is following as he threw her a thumbs up.
"Ya, I hear ye".
Marz began to leave to confront the child, "While ye all bicker and try to keel each other, I'ma see our rat".
The child continued to observe Esmii on her first call to the others, but on the second he made to scatter. In one sudden motion, he was crouching, the debris of his stolen breakfast scattered as launched himself away from her on all fours, disappearing under the ledge. Rather than immediately fall, he gripped tightly with his fingertips, swinging his narrow frame with enough momentum to launch him self to another handhold in the rock some feet further in- still in clear view of the students below, but safely out of reach. Or so he’d assumed. Forgotten amongst the shouting, Marz was already half-way up to where the boy had just been, and within arms reach of his shoeless, callused foot.
Marz saw the little bugger scampering about, seemingly to maybe try and dodge the many prying eyes. Using reflexes and skills of an experienced climber, he expertly came right into Marz' hands as all Marz did was reach up and grab the boy by his foot and began to try to pulled him down while saying, "And down ye come".
Esmii says in a worried tone " Marz, be careful with the boy "
"Chied! Chied!" The boy screamed as his foot was grabbed, throwing his balance and sending both tumbling to the rocky ground. The child's screaming didn't end, even after nearly crushing Marz upon falling atop him. "Tall strangers tried to kill me! Vagrants! Liars! Criminals!" Yuliya had the grace to translate the heavily accented Hegelan for the others at first, but soon gave up as it became clear the boy intended to do little more than hurl insults and curses at them.
Marz had taken falls before, stone is where he was born from. Earth is his home, so a small fall of 20-30 feet meant nothing, especially when magic was introduced.
Merz however was angered on how now the boy hollered to the wind like some banshee. Marz' face contorted as he yelled at the boy in Hegelan to hopefully shut him up so an interrogation can actually begin, "Shut up! You follow and steal from us, and we're criminals? The least of your worries is a little tumble!"
The fluent language was enough to quiet the boy for a moment at least. He stared up at Marz, as though just realizing that he too was a Hegelan. "Not you!" The boy replied with shock and indigence- as though these strangers would ever be worth following. "Ilvir follows the Margukh." His eyes scanned the area for the beasts in questions, but they landed on Nazih first and narrowed. "Protect Margukh"
Marz sighed and shook his head, he looked to those in his party, "He's here for the animals. Making sure they don't get injured and can make it back".
Sven blinked. "All life is sacred," he said. "Of course we will protect these animals that have helped us. Why wouldn't we?" He patted his big goat. He'd become rather fond of her. "If you're here to look after them, why didn't you just say so?"
Ilvir stared blankly at the tall Eskandish while the others translated for him. "most ousiders don't know how to respect a Margukh" He replied, withering gaze falling up Nazih again as he kicked the loose stones at his feet.
"Chorily gave orderes to keep away from the strangers, so Ilvir keeps alone, travels only with the Margukh." Sure enough the familliar sound of the boy's voice alone was enough to draw two of the goats towards the group to investigate.
Esmii climbed down from her stone vantage point, she came close to losing her footing a few times on the way down, but she recovered. With a couple feet from the ground she jumped to land on he feet where the group is. "There we go." she says, dusting herself down.
Hearing what the boy was saying. "What do you mean?" she asks him.
"Well, maybe you can teach us if you let us talk to you," Sven answered. "I love Marghuks already, but I really don't know much about them, so I'll probably make some mistakes unles syou correct me." He paused. "You know, maybe it was the same for Nazih." He gestured toward the darker-skinned boy. "He doesn't have any where he's from." He raised an eyebrow, glancing between the other two. "What did he do anyway?"
"Obviously something very wrong, though I was just attempting to give the Marghuk's some relief from all the dirt their coat is ridden with." Nazihs shuffled himself over so he was crouched down next to the second, smaller boy, "I too wish to know more about how to care for the Marghuk. I'm sorry for earlier."
Ilvir backed away at first, eyes darting between Nazih and Marz as the older Hegelan translated for them. He seemed to relax a little once it was done, and picked one of the pelts of moss that made up most of his clothes and draped it over Nazih's outstretched arm.
"Moss." He said. "Marghuk's need the muck to grow the moss. Keep warm from the wind." He shook his head and let out a sigh before looking to the horizon, squinting at the well-past-risen sun "Lowlanders don't know much, should have taken the east route last day- a climb then would save time now. Won't make it down before dark."
Nazih blinked in surprise a few times, wondering if something was lost in translation. The thought of needing to be covered in dirt to survive was not one he wanted to entertain for himself, but he started to understand why the beasts needed the moss.
He turned to examine the coat of his mount more closely, "Intriguing, I never would have guessed."
"I get it. I hate it, but I get it."
Silas, who had remained quickly sulking behind the rest of the group, had decided enough was enough when both the Darhanic and Eskandish tried to make nice with the stowaway.
"What do we care about the cows?" He complained and pointed an accusing finger at Ilvir. "He still stole our food!"
Marz spoke up once more, now stopping his own translations, "Blind one has a point. He stole our food. And if he was actually here for the beasts and following us, he'd have brought his own".
"That is a bit of an issue," agreed Penny. She counseled herself patience. Commons like this one clearly was always seemed to act in bad faith, but it was often because they did not have it so easy as she did. He'd likely been hungry. "If you were hungry," she began, glancing apologetically toward Marz, who she hadn't known well before but who'd be an absolute gem as a translator. "Why didn't you just ask us for food? If this was your job," she continued, "Why didn't they give you anything to eat?" She still skewed more sympathetic than accusatory, but she let her confusion show too.
Whatever tension had been brewing in the young boy for being accused, evaporated at Penny's comment; which sent him into a fit of laughing.
"Ilvir hungry on a mountain trail! Do fish drown in the lowlands? Birds forget to fly?" He shook his head to regain some solemnity. "Low food on low ground belongs to the rats, soft-head. It's the them Ilvir took from- rats don't mind difference between Hegelan food and mountain food." He shrugged but offered back the soiled warping-cloth that had once held Silas' rations.
"Well he sort of has a point there, the rest of our food did get snatched by rats." Nazih poked the holes in what was once a sturdy bag. "But wait; if we had the Hegelan food, what did you mean by 'mountain food'? Why didn't you eat this mountain food instead of ours?" Nazih was hungry.
"Moutain food is best for the Marghuk and birds. Rats don't appreciate Zuri's cooking like Ilvir." The boy shifted his weight to lean on one of the goats that had approached him, in turn the creature nuzzled the hip where his other hand was placed. Almost miraculously, he produced three berries for it to gobble down.
"But if lowlanders are hungry, mountain food is better than no food" He considered something intently for a moment before nodding to himself, and taking two steps forward put himself in the centre of the group. "Ilvir can show where to find mountain food, and how to get down the steppe quick, if the tall strangers can keep quiet about Ilvir to Choliry."
The discussion that followed was a short one. Silas alone protested the other boy's entry to the group, but the elder Biro's dismissed his concerns as the hungry grumblings of a robbed thief.
They didn't mount their Marghuk for long, instead following Ilvir through twisted crevices that Sven and Nazih would struggle to pass at times. The goats were indifferent to their struggles; gracefully leaping upon the more open cliffs overhead, those gifted in climbing or kinetic magic might have a better time following their lead, as Ilvir did.
The tight spaces continued for what felt light hours, and just when the hunger and claustrophobia might have broken their spirits; the group poured out to a small opening. Cliffs surrounded them on all sides, but looking directly upwards showed clear blue sky far past the rocks. Under their feet was, while not actual soil, wet clay; nourishing enough for thorny bramble to take root and latch itself to the stone surroundings. The sound of running water was everywhere, but the numerous tiny rivets of water coursing down the walls were easy to miss at first glance.
The brambles, while cumbersome to navigate, were spotted with large dark berries similar to those they’d seen Ilvir feed the goat. He later showed them how to uproot the plant without hurting themselves, and how to clean and cook the long and thin roots over a fire made of the thorned branched themselves. Nothing was wasted.
While the group stopped for their late breakfast, Ilvir paced the small area, picking through the few plants they’d left behind for more fruit. The whole time he muttered to himself, glancing up on occasion to check on the Marghuk or stare curiously Marz. Their guide was a good more subdued on the remainder of their journey, directing them to follow the sound of water through further caves and canyons.
The sun was setting, but still lighting the sky when the party emerged from the base of the mountains to the misty, cool air of the upper steppe. ”Ilvir and Marghuk will stay here until twilight before going home.” He said as goodbye, clearly not intending to follow them into the human village.
The biros discover a young Hegelan by the name of Ilvir has followed them. An expert in mountain flora and fauna he led them to food after finding their breakfast stolen by vermin in exchange for not telling anyone they found him.
It was late when their audience with the village elder ended. Nikolai led them to yet another building they were meant to spend the night. There were only two rooms available, and two beds in each. It would be up to the group to decide who would be spending another night sleeping in a bedroll on the ground. Before that, they had a final chance to speak with Nikolai, ask him any questions about the begemot and give him a final answer as to how they intend to proceed.
Silas sat some ways away from the others. Silently munching a thick slice of bread over a steaming bowl of stew while discussion began around him; his sulking attitude had persisted all day. The only time his mouth had opened was to make a snide comments and half-audible insults. But the proper warm meal and warm fire of their resting spot seemed to have brought back his voice at least.
"Why stick around at all?" He asked of the others "The big ol' monster ain't what we're here for, I say we take the boat and keep on our way."
Penny paused with her bread - dipped in stew - halfway to her mouth. "You know," she admitted, glancing at some of the others, "He's not wrong." She shrugged. "We have a purpose here, and it's not to get caught up in the animal troubles of some random village. We're not soldiers or mercenaries. I imagine they have a government or lord for this." She shrugged. "Sounds selfish, I know, but we have to trust that we're here for a reason and that reason is urgent." With that, she stuck the fast-cooling food in her mouth and ate it.
Nikolai's nervous hand-wringing habit kicked up again while he stared between Penny and Silas, very clearly not liking the direction the conversation was taking.
"None will stop you from leaving." He admitted, "But as I said, this place it remote. It is a town built on trade, not warfare. I am the beginning and end of any magical talent to be found here, any 'guards' we have are little more than a militia of dock workers." His nerves seemed to wain as he spoke, replaced with frustration and deep resentment. "Help will come for us, but it will come too late. More will die and our food stores will not be full in time for next winter."
His settled and remained on Penny, able to actually look directly into her eyes. "You leave, people die. It is that simple. But helping would not be a charity, there is payment waiting for you."
Yuli sat and contemplated as she enjoyed the first hot meal in a while. On one hand, these weren't her subjects. On the other, they had her people's names and spoke their language. And were they to help, then they'd either have quite the mount for the rest of the way, or ample food and fur supplies.
"I think we should help. I tired of eating bread and leaves. Meat would be good." she spoke, looking at the others. She would be fine if they just left, but this would be a good test.
Penny frowned. Since when had she been afraid to help? Only... it wasn't fear. It was a weird sort of antipathy. She was ever being roped into things that were, quite frankly, not her concern: putting her neck on the line for others in often-thankless endeavours. It was difficult to forget the previous year's misadventures on Isla D'Amato, the thefts of the auction house items, and the events of Bloody Victendes. Yet it was her forays into the Workman's Quarter that smarted the most. She'd been insulted, assaulted, and nearly killed simply for... existing as she was and trying to help. Her entire life, she'd been sympathetic to the commons, imagining them an underserved class. She'd wanted to make common cause or at least help uplift them but, time and again, they had proven that they were violent, hard-hearted, impulsive, and simple. She hated them, in truth. It was the same kind of helpless anger that she'd felt for most of her life towards her family and even towards the Gods. She could not love those - why should she help those - who refused to love or help her back and, in fact, did quite the opposite!?
Yet, Nikolai and his small, isolated village were not her enemies. Here they were housing and feeding her and her... fellow students. She would hesitate to call any of them friends save Yuliya and Yvain. They were offering payment as well, and testing herself against a Begemot sounded... Dangerous! Deadly! oddly exhilarating. Then, Yuliya spoke and it was more weight to swing the other way. Why was she listening to Silas anyway? Had she felt some misplaced kinship with him because he, too, was viewed as disabled? He was merely proving his common simplicity and selfishness. She was a princess of Perrence! Was it not her prerogative - nay, her duty! - to behave in a manner befitting her station?
"I have perhaps spoken in haste and judged the situation too harshly and without complete knowledge." She took a moment to shift as she sat. "It is true that we are here on urgent business of our own, but I am not opposed to finding and either driving off or slaying this beast in the morning." She nodded in Nikolai's direction. "I am happy to offer that much of my time for a matter that is clearly of great importance to the people of this place."
Sven scowled. He was seated beside Esmii, with her snuggled into his side, but he could feel her shift at Penny's words, and then Yuliya's. For a moment, their eyes met, full of concern. It had never occurred to him not to help, and then he realized that most likely those here were out for blood. They were fixated on killing the great creature without even bothering to understand why she was doing what she was. "I believe we should help theshe people," he said solemnly. "But I believe there ish a more elegant sholution than 'shoot first, ashk questionsh later.' Thish ish highly unusual for a Begemot, at leasht to my outshider knowledge. There ish a caushe. We may not need to shed blood here: hersh or oursh."
Esmii sat next to her boyfriend. Enjoying her food that she was given. Breaking small bits of bread off to feed her loyal dormouse companion Sage, who was sat on one of her shoulder. She agreed with Sven, wanting to try to at least help them with this Begemot situation. "I think we should help them. she says looking to the group. "It might be beneficial for us to help, I could also help treat people even the citizens if they get hurt." she says to Nikolai with a little smile. Her smile slowy fades. "That's really all i can do, Heal. I feel so inadequate, especially with inability to fight. Can i not do any more?" she mumbles to herself.
"I am an emissary sent by St. Yuri's to ensure Vissoriya's interest in the trade through the Kirguz and good relations with the people here. In turn I provide them with services in the Gift, and... educated council. Nikolai replied to Yulia in rapid Vissoriyan before returning to the other in Avincian.
"I thank you for your reconsideration." He nodded towards Penny then Sven where his gaze remained. "But I fear I cannot promise reward without clear evidence the creature will not trouble us again."
"Well good, because I think we need more information before we decide how or even whether to approach this. Perhaps you have a hunter that can give us more details about the beast or how to best subdue it?" Nazih prodded
Penny nodded agreeably and twisted to regard Nikolai. "Any edge you can give us will make it easier to figure out how or if we can help you."
"I can tell you what I do know, but it is little. The Begemot is fully grown by all accounts, some say say up to fifty feet in height," He hesitated before continuing. "They also claim it's developed a taste for blood so," He splayed his hands in display of his own blindness to the truth of the situation. "It's strange enough that one's travelled so far north higher than the lower steppe. That it's come directly to our farms, attacked other animals is almost unheard of. There are farmers you can speak to, witnesses, but I warn you these trying times have awakened a... provincial irrationality causing them to invoke all sorts of ancient superstition."
Esmii thought to herself, about the information that had given to her and her group. "I wonder... She placed a hand onto her chin. "If its traveled so far north, something must have happened to its habitat. Something that has forced the creature to leave. Like hunters invading and it defended itself or its nest, that could explain why this had a taste for blood. But why it's up here, its could be out for revenge or looking for something. " this idea was based on it happening a couple of times with some of the Beasts in the swamps of her homeland.
"I cannot imagine any hunter- even an entire guild, being foolish enough to engage a full-grown Begemot. But there has been word of troubles on the lower steppe... Nikolai shrugged. "Begemots are occasionally hunted for their tusks- useful in magical crafting and very valuable, but rarely is such a task taken without a number of certified mages and notice to the surrounding areas. If someone was desperate enough though... Well, I wouldn't completely rule it out."
Sven tried not to speak over Esmii or make her feel invalidated, but he had taken something different from this. "Jusht what short of 'provincial irrationality' and 'ancient shupershtition are we talking about?" he questioned.
"Desperate times have people searching for explanation and reason. We've lost much is what should be a time of plenty. The cold first, then the begemot. The people here look for sense in it all and find the gods' anger." Nikolai's face tightened and darkened a shade, though it was difficult to tell whether from frustration or embarrassment. "Of course, that these events happened shortly after word reached us of a curse plaguing the lower steppe greatly fuelled the superstition."
Marz had been contemplating and thinking about something, it was only when Nikolai spoke of the Begemot Marz' face lit up, "Akay, I think taking care of this Begemot business should be good".
Nazih sat in deep thought, "Who do we know that is an expert on the local fauna and flora? Someone who has shown us to be very knowledgeable in the ways of the mountain..." And then, it dawned on him. He spoke up, "Maybe we can consult with the goat boy? He did know a lot about how to survive on the mountain, and he hasn't left town yet. It's worth an ask at least..."
"Goat boy?" Nikolai frowned. "If there is another with you, the Elder should know of it."
Esmii looked to Nazih, " Great idea, he was able to tell us a lot about the area, his input would be good to know."
"He should be one of the firsht we shpeak to," Sven agreed, and Penny nodded along. "I'm in favour. And you, Yvain?" She looked to the only one who'd not yet spoken.
Yvain, having kept quiet for most of the discussion. Nodded along with a shrug. "If he can tell us how to deal with it quicker, It's worth a try."
Yvain, having kept quiet for most of the discussion. Nodded along with a shrug. "If he can tell us how to deal with it quicker, It's worth a try."
Penny leaned over and hugged him from the side.
Yvain looked rather surprised, soon showing a warm smile. "To what do I owe this, Penelope?"
"Doing the right thing! she chirped.
"Oh dear me, You make it sound like I never do the right thing. I am not completely heartless." He hang his lip in a teasing manner.
Nikolai's look of concern only deepened as the students talked to each-other. "I will come with you." He announced, "We should not have strangers coming to our lands uninvited and without announcement." He added reproachfully.
Esmii kinda of agreed Nikolai was saying, they are strangers after all after finishing her meal, she gave Sage a little pet as she sat in her usual resting place, while cuddling into Sven. "Do you keep track of the people who have permission?" she asked him
Nikolai's words pricked Penny's suspicions and she worked to hide a scowl. The people of Kyrguz were either more xenophobic than she'd thought - though, technically, Nikolai wasn't even one of them - or there was something being hidden here. She leaned in towards Yvain and switched to Perrench, making sure to keep her tone and expression artificially light. "Something is up. I don't trust him."
Silas kept quiet, he'd made his desires known, even if the others had chosen to ignore is obvious wisdom. Let them throw their lives away, he was more than ready to go home already. But when they mentioned their new found accomplice only hours after promising to keep his presence secret, he spoke up again.
"Damned animal lovers," He forced out a laugh with his words, shaking his head. "Grown so attached to our mounts they really think they can talk to them now." Once he turned away from their host to face the Biros, his cheerful expression changed to one of icy judgement.
"But it would be good to make sure they're on thier way."
Nikolai's words pricked Penny's suspicions and she worked to hide a scowl. The people of Kyrguz were either more xenophobic than she'd thought - though, technically, Nikolai wasn't even one of them - or there was something being hidden here. She leaned in towards Yvain and switched to Perrench, making sure to keep her tone and expression artificially light. "Something is up. I don't trust him."
We're here to help and this is the reception we get? Yvain thought to himself. Then upon hearing Penny speak in their native tongue to him to switch over as well, smiling as if she made A joke. "Oh? What makes you say that? Being unwelcomed guests doesn't sit right with you?"
She'd noticed Esmii looking over and wasn't completely sure what to make of the yasoi. She shook her head to clear it and responded. "Not even just us. He's referring to goat boy - Ilvir, was it? - and his tone.... he's asking for help with a problem he won't reveal more about, yet they don't welcome unannounced guests and he basically wants to supervise us talking with someone we know. Sounds like they have something to hide. If you have any abilities in chemical, I would check for foreign substances in our foods."
Then, however, Silas spoke and Penny'd had enough of him. "Silas, let's walk and talk for a second?" she advised, rising. The look in her eyes made it clear that this was not an offer.
Nikolai did nothing to hide the fact he was staring at Penny, clearly uncomfortable with her shift to a language he did not know. "Kyrguz is a small country surrounded by larger powers. Tagayungri is smaller still and struggling through hard times. Maintaining borders and relations with our neighbours is of the greatest importance." He answered Yvain, while staring at his cousin. He replied to Silas as well, before shifting his gaze from her.
"Margukh? From the Hegelan lands? I'd be very interested in seeing a tamed one up close." He did nothing to break the rules of politeness, but was clearly instant in coming with them.
Nikolai's words pricked Penny's suspicions and she worked to hide a scowl. The people of Kyrguz were either more xenophobic than she'd thought - though, technically, Nikolai wasn't even one of them - or there was something being hidden here. She leaned in towards Yvain and switched to Perrench, making sure to keep her tone and expression artificially light. "Something is up. I don't trust him."
Esmii ears twitched as she heard Penny whisper to Yvain, luckily she was able to understand what they were talking about. While hugging Sven, she whispers into Sven's ear, " Penny has suspicions about Nikolai, be on your guard, do you think everyone else will catch on."
Silas looked between Penny, Yvain, and Nikolai "Alright," He acquiesced to her with nod, taking the remains of his bread with him as he stood to leave from the table and follow her outside.
Niklolai stared after the departing pair, but made no comment except to call after them. "We shall leave to visit your goat friends within the hour."
Sven leaned in and lowered his voice, nuzzling behind her so his mouth was hidden as he spoke. "I am not shure she's right. I'm not shure we should trusht her either. To be honesht, I trusht neither. Let'sh wait to shee how this playsh out."
"We should really check with Ilvir before we let anyone see the Margukh, especially since we don't quite trust this one yet." Nazih said, quietly enough so Nikolai could not hear.
Marz looked at his food, with his helm on his lap to act as a small table, his bowl sat atop it. Marz took a bite yet he seemed to have been lost in thought. He began to look around as he continued to eat and watched everyone.
Some people spoke of going and talking to the Mountain Rat, Silas knew exactly what they did and tried to deflect, yet others continued to speak of the Rat and let Nikolai know of him.
Others seemed to begin speaking among each other and even seemed to speak in other tounges. Possibly doubts of what is going on, and possible worry of things.
All Marz did was continue to eat as he heard the conversations, many of which he couldn't understand. Yet something felt off, this was good for him, materials he needed for his work were right in front of him, yet it seemed strange with their mission. What would cause all of this, Marz couldn't know but it bothered him.
Marz continued to eat, silently, while he lightly tapped his helm. His gaze seemed to have been caught in a 1000 yard stare.
Sven leaned in and lowered his voice, nuzzling behind her so his mouth was hidden as he spoke. "I am not shure she's right. I'm not shure we should trusht her either. To be honesht, I trusht neither. Let'sh wait to shee how this playsh out."
Esmii smiles joyfully with Sven nuzzling her. She kisses him on the cheek, before pulling away "Ok, We'll wait before making a decision. It would be best to keep our guard up. Just in case." she whispsers then kisses his cheek again.
Silas looked between Penny, Yvain, and Nikolai "Alright," He acquiesced to her with nod, taking the remains of his bread with him as he stood to leave from the table and follow her outside.
Penny led him a short ways away, outside and out of earshot before turning to face him. "Silas, for Dami's fucking sake," she sighed, still more concerned and exasperated than angry, "What's going on with you? Who pissed in your porridge?"
Silas stared unseeing at Penny, shocked the near stranger of a girl would speak to him so. But it didn't take long for the surprise to shift into anger. "I didn't get breakfast if you don't remember. On account of it being stolen" He folded his arms and scowled at her. "I'm just trying to keep myself alive and the thieving rat a secret- something the rest of you promised too."
"For someone who seems so angry at him, you sure are putting a lot of energy into protecting him." She tilted her head to the side. "Why's that?"
"Like the smiling host trying to get us to throw ourselves at a monster even less." Silas replied.
"For what it's worth, I agree: something's up with him and I wanna find out what, but... Fuck. I dunno. I should've kept my mouth shut about Ilvir, but once Nazih started, I just... forgot." She paused. "You're also avoiding the question, though."
"For what it's worth, I agree: something's up with him and I wanna find out what, but... Fuck. I dunno. I should've kept my mouth shut about Ilvir, but once Nazih started, I just... forgot." She paused. "You're also avoiding the question, though."
A shadow of a smile flashed across Silas' face. "Maybe I just have a soft spot for all the small vagrants of the world"
"Even when you wanna strangle them, huh?" Penny couldn't help but display a wry grin of her own. "Help me out here, Silas. Like - Ipte - I barely even know you, but you're the only other one who didn't just totally go with the flow. This stinks, Nikolai stinks, and I can smell it from a mile away." She shook her head. "Doesn't it make you just wanna bust it open? Just because these fuckers are trying to make us dance?"
A full smile broke through and Silas' head began nodding vigorously. For the first time since Harrachora's damned bird, someone was speaking sense. "Need to know more 'bout our puppet-master here first." He jutted a thumb back at the building they'd come from. "Keep him talking and walking slow and I can get Ilvir hidden away before you get there."
Penny nodded and, in eager anticipation, began to turn. "Leave it to me. I'll either broach the subject of dragons with Sven near, hammer him with well-meaning questions, or..." She was already moving away, but she glanced over her shoulder. "Worse comes to worst, 'Oops! Oh no! The girl with one leg needs help!'" She winked. "You just get our smelly little... friend? outta there."
Magic lit the groups path back to the mountain path, the reflection of the moon on the rippled waters of the late providing a pretty sight, but little to see with. Nikolai produced the glowing orb himself, arm raised above the others, still nearly coming short of Sven's full height. Even so, it was hard to see amongst the shadows, and near impossible to keep track of each student travelling with him. The short walk was uncomfortably quiet, none entirely sure what they would find upon arrival.
They needn't have worried. The small inlay where they'd left Ilvir was empty. Hoofprints and marks on the stone wall made by the Margukh horns the only evidence they'd been there at all. Nikolai frowned, his light growing to illuminate further as he investigated. He did another count of the students, but all were accounted for. "Well," He finally said to them, "It's unfortunate that your friends have left you, but it is likely for the best they did not linger long on the border.
Silas wasn't entirely sure the boy would re-appear again; their communication had been made mostly through poorly interpreted gestures, but he'd arrived, scowling atop the back of a single remaining Margukh. He muttered something in a language the Constansian boy didn't understand, and another series of violent gestures ensured until the Hegelen was dismounted and following back down the path out of the mountains. Over the flat of the steppe, the faint light of the rest of Nikolai's party could be seen, just in time to disappear inside the building that acted as their home for the night. Silas urged his companion to follow his lead, gripping the smaller boy's arm in a tight grip. But he was near as quick and silent as Silas himself, and the other students had been gathered in Marz's room for less than ten minutes when the pair rapped upon the shuttered window to announce their arrival.
"Things are bad here." Ilvir repeated the same phrase, but Marz and Yulia gave it meaning to the others with translation. "There isn't enough grass- trees should be sprouting by now."
The students told them what they'd learned, the mere mention of a Begemot had excited the young boy, but word of it's violence and supposed destruction upset him more.
"Lies!" He almost shouted, prompting the others the quiet him lest their host come to inspect any noise. "Begemots are solitary and wise, have no need for humans. Not unless they bothered it first." He glared reproachfully at the surrounding group, as though they were somehow responsible.
"There wash a shtorm," Sven offered, "They shaid it whiped out mosht of the new plantgrowth- maybe itsh just hungry?"
Ilvir shook his head after the translation. " Begemots are tough and smart, they can wait through the longest thaws without-" He stopped, leaving his translators and listeners confused as an idea dawned on the small boy. "Ilvir can help you," He said, suddenly standing in-front of his seat on the bed. "Take him to the places the Begemot went- help find tracks, markings in the steppe. Listen to Ilvir and Begemot will be gone; day after next."
Sven was quick to seize on the idea. The problem was that they didn't know exactly where beyond Nikolai's vague mentions of it attacking some of the farms and possibly killing animals. "We should track it tonight," he suggested, "if we can find our way to theshe farmsh. Anybody else in favour?"
Esmii stood talking with the rest of the group. She jumped a little bit from the boys outburst since he was behind her. Her heart, pounding from fright. She wanted to punch him, but refrained since he was just a child. After some deep breaths, she regains herself "What makes you say that? " she asks Ilvir.
When Sven offers if anyone else wants to join him on his suggestion, Esmii smiles putting her hand up. "I'm in.
"You all really just going to go jumping at this kid's offer without questions again?!" Silas stood from his cross-legged position on the floor, he was taller than the Hegelan boy, but still not by over-much. "That food he lead us to this morning was barely food at all- he hasn't even told us what he wants to do." He scowled and folded his arms across his chest. "I still say its a waste of time and we take the boat out come morning. If Ilvir feels so strongly for the monster let him deal with it."
Penny quirked an eyebrow. There was too much inconsistency for her to ignore it anymore. "You bend over backwards to help smuggle him away from Nikolai and now you wanna disregard what he's saying? Which is it, Silas? What gives?" She turned to Ilvir, glancing at Marz and Yuliya along the way. "He has a point, though. What is the plan? You can't expect us to just take it on faith when we hardly know you."
"Keeping the kid from getting smacked around by Nikolai doesn't mean I want to spend the next three days doing his busywork." Silas jut his chin out to compensate for the red flush his face had taken under direct confrontation. "But I can't take the boat alone either, so if we're going to deal with the monster I'd much rather avoid fighting it."
"Ilvir needs only two days to lead the Begemot away" The Hegelan boy interjected. "Find tracks, make lure, no more problems for the lowlanders by tomorrow." His eyes darted between the students as he bounced in place, either excited or nervous about the prospect of his self-appointed mission. "Yous can't be telling Chorily about this either though." He added.
Perhaps feeling a bit guilty for carelessly messing with the child's friends back in the stables, or perhaps just because he was curious, Nazih wanted to pursue this avenue.
"I'm inclined to trust Ilvir here, but it can't possibly be as simple as making a lure. I vote aye, only if we can get a little more information about the plan; namely, what we do after the lure has been made." He directed the latter sentence towards Ilvir.
Marz said, "Eh, yer just a pansy who's used to not needing to eat a traveler's food. Ilvir brought us to something to eat. It's hard, sure, but it filled ye up, no?"
Marz then looked to Ilvir, "What will you need us then? You seem to have it handled, no?"
Ilvir scowled at the Darhanic boy. "No." He shook his head. "You can help keep the lowlanders away but only Ilvir goes near the Begemot." His attention turned just as quickly to Marz, when he finally realised the older boy had been speaking to him, not translating.
"Need meat, if she's gotten a taste for it. Ruce seeds, and any other food that can be found. Gotta find tracks too- anything with her scent, fur, blood waste." He gaze shifted to each of the group again "That being your jobs so Ilvir can stay hidden."
Yvain was looking around to see the other's reaction. "And what if it ignores the lure? Or maybe it just returns to it's normal path after it has taken it."
His noblesse oblige was kicking against his better judgement. "Going in alone against something like that could turn dirty if it goes wrong, no?"
Sven shrugged. "There'sh alwaysh danger." His eyes roved about the room. "Thingsh will probably go the way we plan, but they might not. If we were here to do what wash eashy, then we wouldn't be here in the firsht place. Our prerogative ish to do what ish right: what will shave the mosht lives with the leasht harm. That ish clearly thish option if it worksh. If not, we explore othersh." He rose to his full height and stretched, prepared to get moving. "I have spoken my piece. The resht of you can do as you wish."
Ilvir shook his head emphatically. "Can't go wrong if Ilvir is the one alone with her."
Silas snorted at the translated proclamation. "If the rest of you want to spend the night looking for monster shit go right ahead; leaves a bed for me." With that, Silas yawned, stretched and took leave to the second room assigned to them.
Ilvir scowled after him, but quickly shifted his attention back to Sven. "Helping the Begemot is right." He assured him. "Plan should be easy as, except for finding Ruce seeds, too early and too close to the water for them."
"Could've mentioned that bit earlier," Penny grumbled to herself. "Well then, where are we supposed to find them?"
Ilvir's frown returned "Does she want Ilvir to chew and spit food for her to? Ask a farmer or beastmaster."
The biros discuss with Nikolai what little is known about the Begemot, the group decided to ask Ilvir what to do, and they come up with a plan to get rid of the troublesome beast without killing it.
A second agreement was reached, of a sort. With Silas and Yuliya bothing being markedly absent from the small room, the rest of the Biros agreed to help the Hegelan boy with his mysterious plan to lead the Begemot away from Tagayungri. Between them, the students would need to find meat, ruce seeds, begemot tracks and waste, and whatever other smelly food that could be procured for making a lure.
Nikolai would be found waiting for them with breakfast in the morning. While dissapointed to learn they oppted for a less permenant solition he promises to aid as much as he can, though he warns he cannot speak for the rest of the village which might be less understanding of merciful plans towards the monster that had terrorized their homes.
Indeed, when they were escorted to the surrounding effect farmlands, work was already well underway to move the remaining livestock and crops further north and into the mountains where it could be protected from the monster.
"If Ozodbek won't help us we'll have to find way to protect ourselves." The farmer they'd seen arguing with the elder yesterday explained to Nikolai on their arrival.
"No need for defenssiveness Dastan, I understand the troubles you face." Nikolai replied before explaining the situation to the farmer.
The latters face darkened as the steward concluded the plan the biros had explained to him. "You want us to sacrafice more of what little we have left to that monster?" He spat on the ground and glared at the students standing behind Nikolai. "No. Kyrguz will help her own. We will protect ourselves untill real help comes."
This is scavenger hunt mission. Its up to you as a group to decide who is going where to get what. Keep in mind Yulia and Silas both need to be informed as to where to go as niether were there when the plan was set in motion.
Once you have decided what your character is after, I will DM you the obstacles in your way. Some rolls may come up, but mostly I will be judging the contents of your post on how successfull you contribution was. Multiple failures will result in a failure of Ilvir's plan and potentially drastic consiquences.
It is suggested you keep in groups, as ONLY Marz and Yuliya will be able to converse with locals in a reliable manner. Nikolai has offered his services as a translator again should you decided to use him.
You need: - Meat, an amount to temp a dragon-sized monster - Ruce seeds, a seed more commonly grown in arid lands, is commonly kept by livestock farmers - Begemot tracks, where it has been, the direction/area it came from - Begemot sent ie bits of fur, blood, or waste of the animal that can be found - More food, the condition of it isn't important, so much as there is a lot.
This cycle deadline is set for April 22nd 12PM EST. Please don't forget to reach out to me if you need help getting started.
It was a snug and cozy fit for all the Biros to stay within the few provided rooms and beds given them. But Qasem was accustomed to lacking accomidations in remote places, and lost little sleep from it. He was the first one out for breakfast, though conversation with the locals in the inns main hall was sparse due to his ignorance of the local dialect and their barely-veild distrust and discomfort of his pressence.
If their prejudice bothered Qasem, he concealed it well. He greeted his fellow students with open arms and welcome words as they descended to join him and got what little information they could from the innkeep before making plans to investigate for the day over their meal.
"I should like to see the ones that accosted us the other day," He finally spoke once Manfred announcied his intentions to head for the barracks first, where the highwaymen were being held. "We never really had the chance for a proper introduction after all."
The Barracks were where they had entered the town, at the base of an old watchtower. Ragged but built to be stout, it seemed to have recently taken a blow but stood strong regardless. A middle-aged man in a raincoat studied the group before opening the door, however Ismet would first get a hand rested on her shoulder. She, unlike the others, would be ordered to rid herself of anything that could be used as a weapon. Qasem got a simple glare, but wasn’t accosted.
Inside, there was a room with a table in the centre and two young constables playing a game of cards. One of them was the female assistant to the man called Leonhardt, and she was playing against a fellow female worker that looked to be just below her twenties. Their coats hung by the entrance and they were relatively plain clothing one would expect from lower merchants/artisans. Except of course for the multiple guns they kept close to their persons and the knives attached to their belts.
“Ah! I knew you’d come!” said the older girl in what sounded close enough to Kerreman, “If you want to talk to the boss, he’ll be back after his patrol. But for now it’s just me, Strigenroth, and loser Baum here.” she informed them before placing a winning card to what seemed to be a very simple game of war.
There were a few doors that led to different, unknown rooms in the building with one of them undoubtedly being a small armoury. The cells were, on the other hand, very much visible from the main lounge they played in. Most of the highwaymen were in trios within the few cells available, along with an extra older fellow that sat in the corner of his cell. Annette was awake but didn’t say a thing, nor did she even look at the group. Her fixation was on her wrist. Cristophe kept his eyes on them, sat on his bed with a wary look, “Do you want to talk to them?” Stigenroth emerged from her seat and adjusted her belt, “They already told us everything. They’ll pay a fine and get back to work soon.” she nodded toward Cristophe, “You will also need to pay a fine for their losses, however.” she brought up, arms crossed in a defensive manner, “The human losses, I mean.”
Whatever surprise Qasem felt upon hearing the guard’s words and commands, was kept carefully concealed behind a veneer of cordial politeness. Whatever strange and sideways looks the small party gave him were readily ignored and returned with polite half-bows upon each introduction.
“We will be only too happy to assist however possible, but first we too will be needing some formal documentation please” As soon as the translation was finished, Qasem turned to his pack and produced a loose-bound notebook; rather official looking, with the embossed seal of the Greyscale Charmine order on the covering leather and written in flawless Inipori script inside.
“Firstly for the Inipori Charmine Order will need full reports on those who threatened the life of a serving brother to be preserved and recorded with the writings Ar'qush.” He flipped some of the pages. "My colleague, being a holy sister of the Pentad, has already gone to give her side of the report to the Quentic authority here, but I'm sure they too would appreciate hearing another account."
“Of course the free city of Ersand’Enise will be needing its own filing for student records. As well, the noble houses of the Marquis Elstrøm von Wentoft, Graf Hohnstein, and not least the Hohenfelter Reichsgrafs require notice of the endangerment of their kin and heirs.” His smile remained as wide and pleasant as ever while he waited for his partners to translate. There was not a trace of insincerity about him, as one by one pages were selected from the back of the book and placed on the card table.
“Some translation will be necessary,” He continued, almost apologetically, “But I’m sure by the time your captain has finished the paperwork, we will have the requested funds at the ready”
Manfred had been seething, at first, but now, he worked hard to hide a smirk. This Darhannic monk was good: really good. He crossed his arms, translating more or less word for word and adding his own notes and addenda. ”You shall, of course, have our full cooperation so long as we can be assured of yours. Surely, you’ll understand the need for a full report of the attack perpetrated against us for when we forward these expenses to the academy.” He smiled agreeably enough, doing his best to match Qasem’s masterpiece of self-control, before clapping his hands in a businesslike manner. “Well, I hope that settles that. Now, onto other matters.” He adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder. “I imagine you’ve been briefed as to why we’re here, but first…” He began moving over to where the rifles leaned. “I just need to take a moment to admire this thing.” He focused, in particular, on the older of the two pieces: an aged but magnificent wheellock. “Is this a Koppelman 49?” he wondered.
The wheellock in question was bigger than the rest of the weaponry available, “Ah ja - One of our older ones.” Stigenroth made her way to the weapon and hoisted it up with both her arms. It looked a bit heavy for her, “It’s an old variant, mostly used for Skuggvars. We used to have many lurk in the Teufelssumpf.” she presented the weapon in an inviting manner toward Manfred.
He took and spent a good while inspecting it and talking shop, here to provide muscle, gravitas, and - most importantly - translation if needed, but recognizing how much better cut out Qasem was for this sort of thing. At the very least, he could make a positive impression and see if there were any openings for information gathering that presented themselves. “Skuggs, hmm? They aren’t still a problem? This strikes me as prime turf for the big ugly bastards.”
The girl shook her head, “They were a problem for years but recently …” as Stigenroth got a little chatty, her younger associate flicked her shoulder to snap her out of it, “Ah ja. They migrated, most likely. After a few hunts they must’ve … Lost interest in the territory?” her lying wasn’t great and her shrug was exaggerated. The silent partner sighed from her nose and shot a disappointed stare at the older constable, “But the gun is still good enough to shoot coal toads! Especially the big ones.” she added, cheerfully. Manfred was not fooled for a moment, of course but he appeared to accept the clumsy coverup, and perhaps it was a mutual understanding that they both knew that the other knew and nothing would be said of it for now.
In the meantime, the young associate of the vice-constable had been noting down the translated demands of the Darhannic foreigner with great rigour. And once all the bureaucracy was put on the table, literally, the mousey worker scampered through one of the closed doors, only to emerge with a folder with a couple of papers. The information was tightly compacted, barely readable AND in Kerreman. They were clearly saving on paper, and the information they’d find there would likely be incomplete. “There was no time for a copy. If you want it faster, you can borrow the report if you copy it in here.” proposed Stigentroth, “If you want to interrogate, you may. Constable Leonhardt has allowed it.”
"Thank you," Qasem said to the steward then began providing the documents. He scanned the indecipherable language only briefly before looking to his partner. "We'd appreciate the chance to question them most certainly. But I think first we have some for you. Where is it they will be sent off to work? What is to prevent them from attacking us again? Is it common for Constable Leonhardt to grant access to prisoners?"
Manfred crossed his arms and nodded. He had his suspicions, but they were best not voiced yet. “Are they going to Drachenkopf or somewhere else?” he inquired. The Dragon’s Head was an ancient and notorious prison in the west of Kerremand, not actually that far away. It was the obvious choice and he could likely send a letter that way and check their claims if necessary. It was growing in him. These weren’t necessarily bad people, but they were hiding something. They were up to something.
The younger constable took the lead while Stigenroth tended to the gun Manfred and herself were admiring, “Back to the roads. They’ll pay a bigger fine if they attack you again. Yes, only after a night to sober up and if they’re local. Outsiders stay isolated until interrogated and judged.” she rapidly fired responses after Manfred had translated. Her Kerreman had a thicker regional accent than Stigenroth, and she spoke quickly! But, she was a very understanding mousey little lass and accepted to repeat as much as needed, “They work for us. Why would they go to the big prison? They’re punished with a fine and harsher punishment will come if they continue.” she smiled.
"I see." Qasem said curtly, giving the barest side-look to his companion before closing his own page book. His expression quickly returned to impassive politeness. Foreign as the people and their language might have been, Qasem knew a corrupt bureaucracy when he saw one. Not that this group seemed particularly worried about hiding it.
"And Constable Leonhardt," He pressed the least addressed point. "He answers to your local lord or governance?" A sheepish smile of innocence came to his face as Manfred translated the words. "Please excuse my ignorance as a stranger; unfamiliar with the laws of this place."
Stigenroth was about to say something, but Laura, the meeker constable, spoke up, “Constable Leonhardt will be here soon.” she said, “He will answer that better than we could.” again, she smiled.
Qasem reflected the hollow smile back to the woman before looking at Manfred "Let us interview these... decommissioned guardsmen in the meantime, yes?"
There was a pause and Manfred was less than thrilled with the entire situation. He was beginning to see why this place had required attention, though just what was being hidden, he did not know and was not certain that he could handle. “Yes,” he agreed, already moving. “Let’s.
The cells held the familiar faces of the defeated bandits, most of them recovered from their injuries. Some were sleeping, a couple played cards with one-another, and a female had been giving the group the stink-eye. The red marking around her eyes indicated she had been crying.
Even more familiar were the two heads of the group: Annette, referred to as ‘Haken’ by the Constables and the associates that were Cristophe. She did not glare as intensely as the distressed thug, but she hadn’t let Qasem out of her sight for a moment, as if she was eyeing prey from the bed she sat upon.
Cristophe was playing cards with a male inmate, appearing somewhat disinterested in the presence of those that had captured him. The cells were closed, although they seemed to have access to water, food and even some moonshine.
Seeing as they already had her attention, Qasem moved to stand opposite Annette first. "I'm glad we have an opportunity to try for a less painful introduction," He smiled as he nodded at her reformed hand, willfully ignorant of her obvious disdain.
"My name is Qasem Laghmani," His own right hand reached between the cell bars in greeting "and this is my associate."
“Manfred.” The large Kerreman with the magnificent mustache did not offer his hand or so much as uncross his arms.
"Just so," Qasem continued, "Might we begin by asking why enforcers of the law patrol the area under the guise of highwaymen?"
Annette stared at Qasem’s hand, and then at hers. No response from her, nor from the group locked up behind bars. Cristophe didn’t let this attempt at a conversation interrupt his card game. “Uhm,” Strigenroth’s more timid voice spoke up once it was clear the prisoners weren’t keen on simply cooperating, “they are not actually men and women of the law.” she explained, much to Laura’s annoyance, “They were hired to help keep the roads clear of beast attacks, and to add some additional safety to ease the minds of the townsfol-” as she spoke, Annette chuckled and spoke over her, “You’re not scared of any beast, little girl, it’s just a legend your dead grandparents loved to tell to scare you brats.” she hissed at the young constable but her eyes remained on Qasem, “You want to keep these fucking Affen and other foreigners out. And we agreed, these rats cause only grief to good Kerreman towns and homes.” she then snorted before spitting into an empty cup that once held some moonshine, “Better choo them away before change excites the creatures that don’t take kindly to that.”
“Tell me,” asked Manfred of his partner. “How much harm am I allowed to inflict in order to extract information?” He reached into his cloak and extracted a set of studded brass knuckles. creatures… he pondered. They would not give the information away freely, of course. “W-what?” Stigenroth’s hands started to shake. She looked for comfort in different places, although Laura seemed indifferent to the proposition while everything else evoked more anxiety. Meanwhile, Annette stared down the big moustache, “Continuing what your Affe friend started?” she taunted, “Come in this cell. I’ll give you a good time, child.”
Cristophe lowered his cards and paid attention to what was going on. The Constables were not intervening, likely from a lack of experience, or even care, of such extreme circumstances. It wasn’t often torture was on the table in this quaint little town, or it would be handled by higher forces. Where was Leonhardt? Stigenroth clenched the Quentic pendant, “You cut her hand off and she didn’t tell you anything,” Cristophe spoke up, “you’re going to alienate the few of you that pass as Kerreman by getting so trigger-happy.” He sounded quite eloquent when his native tongue was used. “Why are you giving him advice, Cristophe? Looking for a new son?” scoffed Annette, prompting a glare from the older blonde man. He didn’t add any more.
"Thank you for the clarification," Qasem withdrew his offered hand to nod in thanks towards Strigenroth, but fell quiet again to observe the effect of Manfred's implied threat. "I think enough harm has been done already," He finally spoke, "we came here to help these people after all." His focus turned from the woman to the blonde man. "Your son was one of the ones killed?"
“Nein.” answered Cristophe before pointing at the still weeping dreg of the group, “Her husband.” he uttered in Avincian. And he left it at that.
"I see," Nothing in Qasem's demeanour softened, and he made no effort to comfort or make apologies to the woman, instead continuing the line of questioning. "The device you used on us that silenced magic, where did you get it from?"
“From an Affe’s ass.” answered Annette, seemingly losing interest as she slouched on her creaking bed.
Qasem sighed, "The beast then. Anything you can share about that?" He looked to Annette, then Cristophe, and finally Stigenroth for an answer. "Do you think we could be allowed inside with them?" He asked the guards and gestured to the locked cell door. Laura stood from her seat with the keychain in hand. The cell was opened without a word, giving access to Cristophe’s cell, which contained three other male inmates. They all just stared at Qasem. “Anyone else want in?”
Manfred narrowed his eyes. “The yasoi,” he interjected, shooting Qasem a quick apologetic look, “I understand that things are not so good between you and them as they once were, but I am not from so distant a region myself. Did you not once call them brother? Where does this palpable hatred originate from? What have they done to earn it?” He looked at Annette in particular. “Unless it’s because you’re just a cranky old bitch, of course.” He sneered in her direction before shrugging most unbothered. “That’s always a possibility.”
Annette sneered at the boy, “Courageous words to say to a woman behind bars.” not that she couldn’t do something about them, but it seemed there was a deterrent keeping the more competent mages in check. “The fucking Affe. Heh.” Annette looked away, palpable rage building up inside, “Those animals are far worse if you step into their shitty land. They deserve to be smacked out of our own.” she spat again into her cup, “Now that their home is just so shit, they’re spilling everywhere. Spreading their disgusting habits and degenerate behaviours.” she continued to rant and did not hold back on the strength of her voice, “And before you know it, your lifelong crew’s gotta get in bed with these fucking junkies. Fuck. Them. And fuck these old ‘friends’ too!”
"I can see what you mean," Qasem said solemnly as he stepped into the cell. "That spitting- it's quite similar to the habit of Casii isn't it? The white haired Yasoi this one lost a hand over?" He asked Manfred almost conversationally, and moved to place a hand on Cristophe's shoulder. Cristophe aggressively shrugged his shoulder when he was touched, but he was indeed touched by the Darhannic interrogator.
“What did you say, sand-man?” Annette growled. Stigenroth reached for her baton in anticipation of the worst. As usual, Laura did not give a shit.
Manfred merely grinned, tightened his grip on his weapon, and started to draw, subtly, of course, in the way that magusjaegers were trained to.
"The truth.” Qasem replied coolly, "We’ve come to you in good faith despite being unjustly accosted in your lands, yet your prejudices have made you too blind and stupid to accept help you are clearly in need of.”
“And nobody asked for you here, worthless goat-fucker!” Annette hopped off her bed and smacked her palms against the bars, “Lemme outta here, Stigenroth, I’m not gonna kill him. Just set things right.” she began to draw, wordlessly threatening to snap the bars off. “Why do you even care, Haken?” finally, Cristophe interjected, “These aren’t our people. We’re just paid to do this.” he looked tired of it all, enough to tell off his supposed leader. “Why are you defending them? They killed two of-” “Maybe you should pick your fights better, Annette.” the woman was left flustered by that response. Static began to accumulate around all those within the barracks. Harmless but very noticeable static. “And you’ll end up alone like you did half a year ago. Or dead. If you don’t shut your mouth.” in turn, Cristophe pushed back with his own magnetic magic. He essentially sucker punched her with a sudden dose of electricity using her own flexing to finally sedate her. She wasn’t unconscious, just dazed and back to sitting on the bed.
“Let’s make this quick before she wakes up again.” Cristophe spoke to Qasem, his posture straightened and hands on his knees. Stigenroth was shaking in obvious fear, while Laura had been pointing her rifle right at Annette’s head the whole time in the background, finger on the trigger.
Qasem again waited for the drama to play out, quietly observing the reactions of those around. He nodded in thanks to Cristophe before speaking again. “The attacks that caused need for your employment, what can you tell me about them? What were you watching for?”
Cristophe shot a glance toward Stigenroth who didn’t reciprocate, and then to Laura who calmly looked back with eyebrows rising slightly. The highwayman pursed his lips before speaking, “You heard of a beast, yes?” the whole group of inmates were all looking at the lieutenant at this point, “We were to keep a lookout for that thing and ensure travellers wouldn’t fall victims to it.” he explained, actively gesturing with his right hand while squeezing his knee with the other, “We’ve never encountered it, but we’ve heard it. Many times.” again, he looked at Laura and then kept quiet. It definitely looked as though he wanted to add something to that answer, “Annette believes it to be hogwash.”
“We heard… Something on our way here.” Qasem replied, looking to Manfred as memory of the inhuman roar resurfaced with Christophe’s words. “Have people died? What evidence is there of attacks?”
“You should ask the people that live here.” Cristophe answered plainly, arms now crossed, “We get paid by the Lord of this land. Maybe you sh-” a loud, wooden slam shut Cristophe up. It was Laura who practically slammed her rifle onto the table, “Enough of a mess has been made. We should clean things up, before Constable Leonhardt comes back.” she flashed a hollow smile at Qasem. Stigenroth, after gathering her bearing, nodded in agreement, “Maybe we should continue later, ja?” she rubbed her arm that held the baton, her feet pacing anxiously.
“As you say” Qasem nodded to Laura with a tight-lipped smile “We wouldn’t want to cause further trouble.” He offered his hand to Cristophe one final time before leaving the cell. Cristophe did not take it and just stared at the man before him. They were not friends, and these people had still killed two of his own.
“Do you know when the Constable might be returning?” He asked the women. Laura shrugged, “Maybe in five minutes. Maybe an hour. Patrols can take longer when it rains. Or if an animal causes a ruckus in the farms.” she paused and tilted her head, “Not that there’s much there anymore.” having clearly lost interest, Laura relegated herself to cleaning up the small mess made by Annette while Stigenroth kindly escorted the group outside.
Once they were out they’d find the rain had calmed to just droplets with minimal winds. Stigenroth made sure they were far enough to bring something up, “That woman, Annette or Haken or whatever,” she continued to pace toward the town with the two young men, her eyes focused on her dirty boots as she talked, “she used to work with some bigger group that smuggled things through the Irrgarten, causing us grief for a few years. But then …” they were nearing the square where a few merchants had opened shop since the morning, “we just haven't heard from them since, around when our problem started. I’m not sure why they stopped, or why she left to work for Graf Anselm.”
Manfred had gone quiet as the questioning had continued, Qasem clearly being the better of the two at this sort of thing, but now he paused to consider. He’d seen seeming coincidences like this before, and it was almost always misdirection. If Haken - Hook - had been working for smugglers before, and only changed employ around when the problem had stopped, she was almost certainly still part of it. “There some way we can speak with the Graf? As a graf of Meckelin-Thandau, I suppose it would not be too hard to arrange a meeting, even as reclusive as he’s supposed to be.”
Stigenroth panicked a little fumbled her words a little before replying, “Uhhhh,” cheek scratching ensued, maybe a bit too hard as she’d be left with deep, red marks, “you should speak with Herr Dubosque.” she nodded, looking toward Qasem to avoid meeting eyes with the noble young man, “He is the liaison, I think. Yes, liaison. They work together for the town. Thanks to him, the incidents were reduced by a lot!”
"Problems. Incidents." Qasem repeated skeptically, but he'd given up on getting further explanations of those events from her. Directly at least. "How long has Mandelein been your home lieutenant?"
Stigenroth hesitated as if this was some sort of trick question. Qasem could feel her anxiety spike. She probably thought it was her turn to undergo an interrogation, “A-all my life?” she looked at both men expectantly, hoping for validation.
“But of course,” Manfred acknowledged, smiling in her direction. “A charming town in a unique region of our shared country. I want nothing more than to help it flourish, and that means solving what remains of this issue. Even lessened, it will still be enough to prevent a return to Mandelein’s former glory.”
Qasem returned to the inn with Manfred, and watched as the Leutenant continued fuirther down the street and around a corner.
"A dissapoitning endevour, but not enirely fruitless." He confided to his temporary partner. "Shame they weren't more forthcomming, but it seems we'll need to go to higher athorities to get anywehre." He checked the sky for any sign of that drizzle plauging them since stepping through the protal might let up, but found none. "We'll hear what the others learned from the church and the town, then try reaching Garf."
The pair spent the remainder of their afternoon investigations asking the frequenters of the inn and it's owners for whatever information they were willing to provide about the handfull of names they'd managed to gather: Herr Dubosque, Annette Haken, constable Laura, and Graf Anselm.