Time: Morning
Location: River Port
Interactions: Kenia @Tae, Malachi @princess

Two giant spiders silently observed the three humanoids from their concealed perches amidst the dense treetops. The intruders had foolishly chosen to pilfer their prey, and the arachnids prepared for a well-orchestrated ambush. They stealthily maneuvered through the branches, closing in to encircle their unwitting victims.

When the moment was right, the foremost spider, positioned directly in front of the trio, descended from the trees, its body gracefully lowering on a glistening thread of silk. As it touched the ground, the spider swiftly retracted, raising its glistening fangs and unleashing a vicious torrent of corrosive venom in a calculated assault.

Meanwhile, the second spider, lurking behind the trio, refrained from descending but instead shot a precision-crafted web toward the child among them. Its intent was clear: to ensnare the young one and hoist him skyward into the branches, further entangling their prey in a deadly web.

Time: MORNING
Location: INT. MAMA MALACHI'S SUMMERHOUSE - RIVER PORT / EXT. WOODS - RIVER PORT
Interactions/Mentions: The golden lion furry @Helo; The lady in a purple dress @Tae; The guy cosplaying as an elf @princess; Giant spider(s) @Alivefalling
Equipment:

---

For a blink, Zion's guilt trip worked on Jun. Then renewed frustration replaced the torrent of shame. Why was he suddenly the bad guy here? Why should he owe Malachi anything for appointing himself group leader? How did having the human decency to feed his teammates and captive negate how the man judged Jun at every turn, patronized him, and ignored his wish to leave? On top of all that, he was supposed to be grateful? Being a pessimist didn't make him a masochist!

"Not from my perspective." His voice sounded as frosty as he felt. "I'm not part of your pride. I'm your captive." Jun jabbed his food with a fork. "You guys go. If there's any real danger, you're better off without me. What's the point of dragging around someone useless and unwilling?" He jabbed again. "Unless you want cannon fodder." And again.

The lady's "new friends," comment rang hollow in his ears.

If anyone spoke to him after that, Jun didn't hear it. He was only vaguely aware of shapes moving around as the others prepared to leave.

Suddenly, without warning, he felt a pair of large, very hairy, hands grab him. Before Jun could react, he was lifted up out of his chair and hoisted into the air. He let out an involuntary yelp as his view shifted, and Jun found himself being slung over Zion's broad shoulder. His feet dangled helplessly midair and his face was smushed into the lion's back. "I'm not going!" Jun protested, voice muffled by fur. He squirmed and wiggled, in an attempt to break free—he even pounded his fists against Zion but he just laughed, completely unfazed.

It wasn't long before Jun tired himself out, resigning to being lugged around like a sack of potatoes.

Save for one mumbled sentence ("Wherever the green stuff is," when totally-just-a-friendly-neighbor-who-can-hold-her-own-in-a-fight asked which direction Malachi headed), Jun stayed silent and limp as a rag doll after they left the house.

His ears pricked at the sound of crying. Jun pushed himself up and twisted his upper body into an Eschergirl pose, straining to get a better look at what was going on…. and saw the spider. Either that was the best animatronic money could buy, or climate change had whipped up extra large giant spiders down south. Or was this what they meant by island gigantism?

Time: Morning
Location: River
Interactions: Aurora @mole Zora @13org
Mentions: None
Equipment: Longsword and Plate Armor

---

Like a training dummy, he just stood there, not knowing how to leave or even approach the conversation, until the tattooed lady took the conversation to him instead. But it was about the previous encounter he had with the dark elf. Barrock mostly found that annoying to be reminded of. He still harboured some innate urge to take the dark elf to an early grave, but once again he had to remind himself that malarkey like that does not deserve any further attention.

"At one point, you have to say it's not worth it."

He gritted his teeth on the inside, as the anger subsided for good. Now he was left with this lad elf and two ladies, one of whom did not hesitate to compliment his 'gentleness'. From the sound of it, she seemed to be genuine about it. A genuine compliment, that's a first.

He glanced away awkwardly at first before looking back at Aurora. "Thank you." Barrock gave a light bow as he held onto the hilt of his sword. He never really knew how to respond to the compliment. Simplicity was perhaps the easiest and, in his opinion, most genuine. "The name is Barrock. And no, you did not bother me." He returned Zora's greeting with an acknowledging nod. Seeing the weird but pleasant friendliness the two of them gave to him, he was tempted to ask a follow up.

"You two must be Master Rowan's training partner. What training is this?"

Time: Morning
Location: Roshmi City
Interactions: @Helo Bowyn ❄ @Lava Alckon Bardulf ❄ @FunnyGuy Mister Luum ❄ @Tae Brigette ❄ @Pink Khione Zeva
Mentions:
Equipment: Small backpack, two knives, bow and arrow, rations, water flask, hygiene products, polearm, outfit

Rue watched the interaction and sighed. The amusement of watching Raze successfully steal from Zeva caused amusement to rise. Despite the amusement, Rue noticed the spectacle had caused heads to turn. In turn, they were now being paid attention to, and would be throughout their trip. She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. If they made it more than two miles without being arrested, then she would be shocked. While the group moved forward, Rue paused, and noticed Mr. Luum and Brigette conversing. She continued forward since she could not hear what they were saying anyways.

Rue glanced up at as Bowyn joined, and listened attentively. When he was done speaking, she nodded. ”Sounds good. I’ll grab some more supplies, then we can follow them. I don’t trust them nor this city, and I would rather lose a wing than allow Bardulf to be harmed. I can take to the skies and rooftops for an aerial view and whistle if I hear any noise. I’ll ask Star to return, too.”

Upon nearing the bakery, Rue held the door open for everyone, then joined them. Her gaze went to the menu and she began examining it hungrily. Her mouth watered once she laid her gaze on the precious honey toasts. A smile tugged at her lips as she ordered. While she spoke, she gently took Bowyn’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

”Four honey toasts, please, three Blas Buns, two Cinnamon Hot Breads, and five Cacao cookies.” Rue paused and looked at Bardulf. ”Would you like anything?” Her voice lowered to a whisper. ”I can help you order if you like anything or need to know its name.”

While she waited her wings fluttered with anticipation. Her stomach growled as her eyes fixated on the honey toast with intensity.

Time: Early Morning / Early Afternoon
Location: Roshmi City / The Nest
Interactions: Aerilyn @Alivefalling, Mari @princess, and Thraash @funnyguy
Current Equipment: Massive adamantine greatsword w/ Ethereal enchantment, heavy full-plated adamantine armor, magic nullification enchanted cuffs, standard backpack, rope (up to 50ft), wayfinder and timeteller, fire starter kit, first aid kit, chemist set to produce different mixtures for his fogger device, and small kit for minor repairs and maintenance

---

Five watched Mari gracelessly evade his onslaught. Although he had missed, the fact the light elf was forced to fling her body out of the way and injure herself across the ruined floor in the process spoke to how close the attack would have landed. And painted the bar red as a result. He regarded his other two opponents as well. Thraash had attempted to hold down Five's right arm and missed as it flew toward his partner. The act alone had put him within range of the warforged's paralyzing gas. Then there was the matter of the demihuman. Upon her attack being deflected, she quickly disengaged once she took notice of the sickly haze. Five could tell that much from her reaction.

Just as the two female combatants were recuperating, Five noted the dragonborn breathing deeply, taking in as much oxygen as he could despite the gas cloud before him. His eye observed the questionable behavior, though after cycling through his various sights, he found the Thraash's body temperature sharply rising. It was clear that Thraash was reading to unleash a torrent of fire from his gullet. Five immediately responded, demanding the mechanical nature of his body to adapt. Thick armor plating, both externally and internally, shifted positions and assembled where Thraash's attack would land. Five figured that his reinforced shell would hold off the dragonborn's attack for a few seconds until the integrity of the adamantine plating began to lose integrity and deform from the intense heat. But upon his concurrent observations of Mari and the rabbit girl, he needed to adjust his tactic. With his front torso still facing behind him, Five raised his left arm just as a gout of flames left Thraash's maw. The upper part of Five was swiftly engulfed in an inferno. Yet, Five didn't even once budge. Suddenly, the firestorm was scattering and folding over the warforged rather than consuming him. Five's left hand was at the forefront of the dispersion, now having taken the shape of a makeshift propeller due to his large fingers opening up and taking positions around his circular palm. Although Five managed to fan the fire away from him, the heat encompassing his frame would still be an escalating issue if not addressed soon. All he did at the moment was buy time.

Then Mari had ignited a blinding light that filled the entire bar. Five could hear shouts and screams from the patrons as they recoiled. The flash of light didn't bother him. What did disturb him was that Mari and the demihuman had somehow switched places in that very instance of Mari casting her spell. How was that possible? Did they teleport? Five was not aware of his quarry having that kind of ability. Just before he changed his posture to adapt to the seemingly new reality of the fight, he picked up on a critical clue. It was Mari's voice. Five ignored Mari's directed rant and instead took a moment to triangulate where she actually was. He had quickly theorized the light elf had, in fact, never moved from her original position. It was an illusion she projected, which made it seem she and her new ally had exchanged places. His optics would confirm this theory to be accurate. Through echolocation and thermal imaging, he confirmed it was all a ruse. All because Mari couldn't keep her trap shut.

Five's faceplate quickly swung around and faced Mari, suggesting to her she'd been found out. At that moment, Five's greatsword ceased its rotation, stopping with a loud mechanical bang as his internal components purposefully jammed. Extending his right hand, he pulled the sword's grip from its chamber, revealing the rod emanating a white-hot glow and billowing fumes from the incredible frictional heat it had generated. Five only took a few seconds to reorient his grasp of the sword to where he was now holding it by its grip. His left hand began rotating again, though at a much slower and unthreatening pace. More mechanical clanks and pings echoed as the plates over his arm and torso shifted again. He knew what was going to happen and was prepared for it.

Right one cue, the rabbit demihuman lunged at him once more. Five responded in kind. Duplicating his sweeping action from before, his torso exploded with momentum, twisting back toward its original face. As if it was moving in rhythm to his movements, Five directed his greatsword and gave it purpose through the swing. However, it wasn't the sword's edge that flew through the air but the entire flat side of the enormous weapon barreling toward Five's attacker. The blade tip would miss Thraash by inches, but its effect over the wind would carry a blasting current of air, blowing out his dying embers. After a few split-second adjustments, the joints of his right arm extended, plates taking final positions and slotting in for what was to come. Five brought the thick side of his sword into its final attack vector and met the face of the demihuman girl's hammer. Five was fully aware of the risks involved with willingly meeting the brunt of the girl's hammer. He wouldn't, however, do so without applying several mitigating factors and an ace up his metaphorical sleeve. The sound produced by the two massive weapons making contact with each other was loud and ear-wrenching. If there was anyone crazy enough still close to the action, they would have felt the tremendous beat produced by the powerful collision.

As Five expected, the demihuman's weapon went off, channeling a powerful force and sending it through his body.
Sparks spewed from every plate and joint that made up his framework as it resonated with the shockwave. Most of all, his right arm took the full brunt of the damage as it shook violently and groaned under the intense pressure placed upon it. Yet, despite Five feeling his framework was seizing up, he took an unexpected and giant step forward. To an onlooker, Five had extended the reach of his right arm, and with the sword in hand, his body was actually a couple of meters from where the weapons met. Five knew that if the demihuman's hammer made contact with his main body, the results would have been catastrophic, likely crippling, or worse, completely disabling him under the duress of the heavy impact and the following shockwave. But the shockwave in question had a limit to it. When he first witnessed it in action, it knocked both Mari and Thraash down, yet no one around them was as affected; perhaps jumping from their seat was the only response they gave. In fact, the phenomenon's effects appeared to weaken as it traveled through the floor. As such, Five planned on this accordingly. As he purposely made contact with the girl's hammer, he ensured the upper segment of his sword would receive the brunt of the impact, giving himself the most distance he could achieve. Five calculated the force would channel through his sword, down the entire arm's length, and then reach his body. And that was his plan, forcing the wave to travel all that distance before it could even make any genuine impact on him, effectively weakening the shockwave's effects until it renders itself out.

Five briefly regarded his right arm. It was barely functional, and he could detect several components were forced out of alignment despite reinforcing his arm ahead of time. A necessary consequence of keeping his long-eared prey in place. As with every action the warforged giant takes, intent is always channeled with each motion. And the step forward was yet another part of his scheme, especially since he was now in range of his overcommitted foe. His left arm suddenly shot forth just as their weapons traded blows. Still seared by Thraash's flames, Five's left hand glowed hot, and with its talons raised once more, it lashed out like a viper attacking its entrapped prey.

ᴛɪᴍᴇ | Late Morning
ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | Roshmi City Bakery
ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ | Mister Luum @FunnyGuy, Bardulf @Lava Alckon, Rue @Potter, Bowyn @Helo, Brigitte
ᴇQᴜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ | Travel bag with essentials (money, rations, first aid, etc), sapphire pendant, twin daggers.

---

Zeva enthusiastically skipped towards the bakery, relieved that the group were beginning to follow. Between the group’s worries and idle chatter, they had been dilly-dallying by the city gates for too long, and Zeva’s hunger only made her more impatient. Above all, sitting down and eating something would be a good mental break from the absurdity of the morning and the peculiar company she found herself in. She would have never imagined that her errand in Roshmi City would lead her on a quest to save the world with a ragtag team of strangers with weird magic who have alluded to killing her on numerous occasions. After all, everyone appeared to be maintaining a cautious distance from her still, with only a few of them making official introductions.

The end of her thoughts were concluded with a sigh, and she found other things to focus her attention on. There was some chatter amongst the group on their short walk to the bakery, but Zeva paid it no mind, only making a conscious effort to stay away from Bowyn and his fur-coated friend, lest risk losing another ama. She practiced some footwork, retracing steps she had learned in training, while weaving through the crowd towards the baked goods. Before long, they were at the front of the queue, close enough to the delectable scent of honey toast she could almost sense its sweetness on her taste buds.

The dark haired man was the first to order, speaking no more than necessary. He seemed equally interested in the honey toast that the faeries had mentioned, and Rue ordered a whopping four at her turn at the till, alongside other goods. Zeva was crouched down, pressed against the display as the shopkeeper packaged the previous orders, bread and cookies crinkling between layers of thin parchment paper. She was deep in thought, carefully analyzing the inventory to determine the tastiest looking treats. The sugar glazes atop the custards and apples sparkled in the morning sun, the fluffy breads and buns bounced as they were loaded into their respective containers. “Maybe I’ll have an alaberry custard… or no, perhaps a blas bun…”

Zeva shuffled back and forth across the display a few times, examining each item with unnecessary scrutiny, before finally flagging down one of the shop workers to put in her order. “I’d like… one honey toast and I’ll take an order of the long loaf and cinnamon hot bread for the road!” She carefully dug out 9 amas from her bag, placed the coins on the counter, and took extra precaution to seal her ama pouch tight after the payment was done.

---

Ismael let out a sigh one the thugs began to run, Ismael rose from his once kneeling position and began to look to the others. Once to Amisra noticing that she had taken it bad then to Tanithil as he began to carry her, Ismael gave a nod to the Tanithil and said, "Yeah, make sure she will be alright".

Ismael then began to head to the people who now laid on the floor and began to see what they had on them as he called out, "So what next? We ain't got anything to do and we are in port for a while". Ismael did a light shrug as he said, "I'd say we should take what we can here, clean up, and head off somewhere else and do something to not be so easily tied to this".

【Ｔｉｍｅ】 Morning
【Ｌｏｃａｔｉｏｎ】 North Pass
【Ｉｎｔｅｒａｃｔｉｏｎｓ】 None
【Ｅｑｕｉｐｍｅｎｔ】 Magic infused collar | Simple bow | Coin pouch | Various herbal satchels | Simple bone dagger

---

A relentless snowstorm howled through the towering pine trees of the North Pass, creating a mesmerizing dance of swirling flakes in the frigid air. Nestled within the protective embrace of the dense tree line stood a quaint cabin, a rustic creation crafted from aged logs meticulously stacked to form a humble, yet inviting rectangular-shaped home. Gracefully adorning its front, a simple porch offered shelter from the relentless storm, where a handcrafted rocking chair swayed gently to and fro in defiance of the fierce, snowy winds. From the cabin's stout chimney, a plume of smoke rose into the snowstorm, the streams of smoke twisting and disappearing into the white abyss.

As the fire crackled merrily in the heart of Cyrene's Home, its warm, comforting sounds reverberated through the cozy interior, casting a welcoming aura that beckoned travelers to seek refuge within its walls. However, this home was so far in the wilderness very few ventured into its domain.

Inside her simple home, built by her very own hands, Cyrene rushed around finishing the remaining of her affairs. Having spent the early morning delivering the pelts, meats, and various items she had crafted to the locals in town it was finally time to get ready for her latest adventure.

For the last 10 years Cyrene had been living, but more so, hiding in the woods of the North Pass. Every few weeks Cyrene would venture into town with various goods that she had acquired. This week was particularly a hearty bounty which was welcomed as Cyrene had a long travel ahead of her. Cyrene had ridden a carriage into town towards the main market area, her wagon filled to the brim with dried and skinned pelts, tools, and sometimes furniture that she made. The harsh storm that had hit the North pass for about a week now caused the visibility to be terrible. However, Cyrene's eyes were sharper than most and thankfully didn’t cause any problems for her but the townspeople found themselves struggling for their basic needs. They were so grateful to receive her wagon of supplies that it was gone in nearly minutes barely having a chance to look back to see what was left.

She never asked for payment,much of the things she made or caught would go to waste or simply allowed her something to pass the time. Cyrene already felt indebted to the North Pass people for their hospitality in keeping her sheltered in their woods. Allowing her to keep in hiding away from…Him.

As the morning sun broke the horizon Cyrene knew it was time to go. She would only have so much new daylight to make it to the cliff edge near her home. She’d need to get there without anyone noticing. Thankfully with the storm, her location and the time of day it was unlikely anyone would notice. She knew that there were rumors circling about what Cyrene truly was, if anyone were to find out she would be in danger and the piece of jewelry around her neck would be the least of her concerns.

Cyrene grabbed her belongings and started to trek off towards the cliff edge. She had purposely built on the location due to the ease of location for her. The large cliff edge hung over the sea allowing an easy drop into the frigid cold waters. As Cyrene approached, she began stripping off one layer of her clothing after the other. The cold air stung her skin as she powered through the pain. Each article of clothing was carefully tossed in a small hutch she had built. It had a matching set on the other side of the island for when she would return.

Reaching the edge of the cliff, completely naked in the middle of a snow storm and without hesitation, she jumped off the edge. Her body curving down as her arms stretched out to the side moving to the front of her head for the perfect diving form. As the water swallowed her it caused her true form to be unveiled. As each part of her body hit the water, dark navy blue scales appeared. First, small groups of scales clustered over her arms then as her shoulders dipped in, scales appeared like pauldrens over her shoulders. As her torso hit the water, the scales appeared over her breasts trickling down her belly in a thin cluster until they branched out creating a large tail that continued to grow as her legs finally cleared the surface. Her tail was made of the same dark blue scales with large fins that broke off into thin deep purple pieces. They looked like thin pieces of fabric floating with ease in water. A large fin also ran down her butt towards where her thighs would be, matching the beauty of her tail.

Cyrene was a siren. Every so often she had to return to the water after being on the mainland for so long, if she failed to do so it could cause serious illness and soon death. Normally Cyrene would swim around the North Pass, cleaning up various things that fell in the ocean while enjoying her time, however, this time was slightly different. Cyrene planned on setting off towards Roshmi City. She enjoyed watching the boats coming in and out of the harbor, the sound of the bustling city, and the warm waters. The journey would be long and Cyrene would not arrive until sometime in the evening, just in time to catch the morning deliveries. Once night hit, the sign of the siren from her people would appear. Her tail would light up with shimmering scales luminescent in the dark waters. The runes along her tail were ancient symbols telling the story in a beautiful artistic design. Sadly, it was well-known sirens from different families held their siren mark in various fashions, and for Cyrene, it was all too visible at night. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was how her mother was found. She was too young to remember.

Slipping the thoughts from her mind, Cyrene swam through the cold and dark waters. Hours had gone by but it felt like minutes. She felt at peace in the water, it was like a recharge to her soul swimming through the depths. However, it brought back memories…bad ones. The collar around her neck floated around, crashing into her skin every so often with each move. It was a constant reminder of the castration of her voice. She missed singing. It was a release for her, an escape that she could never explain. Like breathing air, it was just a part of who she was. Then someone took it from her. Ripping away parts of her identity to claim for his own as if her body were a trophy. The thought angered her. She would never again be someone's property.

As her mind twisted with thoughts, she wasn’t paying attention. Suddenly she found herself entangled in strings of cotton as her tail whipped around her body reacted causing her to get even more twisted and tangled. It took her only a moment to realize, she was stuck in a fishing net…..

_{T I M E : One Week After Human Arrival
L O C A T I O N : Riverbloom, The River
I N T E R A C T I O N S : @13org, @Conscripts
T A G S : @13org , @Conscripts
E Q U I P M E N T :}




“It is a pleasure to meet you, Barrack.” Again, Aurora bowed her head. The Orc’s name, despite having a violent connotation was actually a place to shelter to comfort soldiers. The Light Elf found this interesting, as some note of his destiny.

Before Aurora could answer Barrack’s question, Rowan re-took his authority of the conversation. His gesture was polite and concise, and Aurora simply smiled behind his role. “With much respect, we are unable to give a satisfying answer the your question, Barrack.” The Light Elf held up a hand as a warning. “If not for our own good, for yours, as well, that we making this passing without interfering with anyone’s safety.” His eyes quickly shifted in penitence towards Zora and then back to Barrack. A smile of courtesy curled on his lips.

Aurora gripped her staff hesitantly. “Dear brother,” she began, not wanting to interfere with her brother’s judgement once again. She trusted him wholeheartedly and was already harvesting a request for Zora that she had yet to make known to him.

Rowan turned to Aurora. His smile faltered slightly as his demeanor softened. “Yes, Aurora? What is it?”

“I believe we may trust this Orc… and, I also believe he may be able to help us, if he wishes. Her smile was resolute and serious in its serenity. “He shows much courage, peace, and wisdom. I see his heart. It is very pure, and his bravery would only aid us, causing no one here any harm.”

Her brother’s shoulder lowered as his eyes closed and a sigh breathed from his lips. He allowed a moment to pass, as he contemplated his sister’s counsel. When he re-opened his eyes, a soft stare studied Aurora. How could he reject her advice? Only a fool would do so.

He turned his attention to Barrack. “Now that you are aware that there is danger involved in knowing our mission. Do you still wish to know?” He realized he could very well tell Barrack. It was unlikely his curiosity had been assuaged, but Rowan militantly preferred the formalities.

---

Scathael’s plan did not work.

Granted, he supposed that it had more to do with the fact that everyone was far too occupied with trying to get out of The Den than anything intrinsically wrong with his idea itself. Not every window had been thrown open to their fullest extent, and not every ceiling fan spun at their best possible speed. But, there was one saving grace: In their rush to vacate the building, nobody had the mind to shut the doors behind them. Dirt and detritus from the street outside drifted past thresholds, caught in the swirls of a weak breeze.

Such a paltry wind did little to dispel the Warforged’s miasma, and its effects were already starting to make themselves known. It wasn't the individuals on the peripheries of the cloud who suddenly collapsed that caught Scathael’s attention – more likely than not, they were simply struck by panic and hysteria – but the Dragonborn engaging the automaton in combat. As far as Scathael knew, the Dragonborn were a resilient and tough people. They could take enough punishment to kill any other species thrice over and still remain on their feet and raring to fight.

And so, to see one slowed and muddled by the gas was concerning, to say the least.

“Paralytic agent,” the dark elf muttered beneath his breath. Be it as gas or liquid, it was a common enough thing used by bounty hunters across the world. Scathael would never claim to be a chemist, but he spent enough time around such people to know a thing or two about such concoctions. Chief of which was that depending on the ingredients used, the gas could either be effective only in a dense cloud, or it could put a person on the ground with just the barest of whiffs.

Scathael wasn’t keen on finding out firsthand. Clicking his tongue, he grabbed his equipment and slipped around the sides of the building towards the kitchen. Between the rushing crowd making their exit, and the cacophony of the fight, it wasn’t difficult for him to pass unnoticed.

The kitchen’s air was thick and soupy, heated by at least a half-dozen idling stoves. Half-cooked food and discarded pots and pans sat on their tops. Scathael ignored them all and focused on searching for the one thing he cared about. It had to be in here somewhere; every kitchen had one, lest the owners of the place be of the sort to not mind one or two kitchen staff suffocating to death every so often. And even so, there had to be something similar, or at least something Scathael could bend to his purpose with some tinkering.

The ventilation fans sat partially embedded in a wall far to the back of the kitchen. Scathael made his way towards them with haste, pulling out his tools even as he moved. By the time he reached the scuffed panel he knew was covering the gearbox, he had his screwdriver out and ready to remove the rusted and pitted screws holding it in place. The hammered piece of copper was dropped onto the floor along with its ruined fasteners. Scathael had no need of them anymore. His true aim was what laid within.

“Alright, let’s see here,” he murmured as he looked at the collection of gears before him. Each was linked with another, and all were heavily scarred with rust. It didn’t seem as if anyone had ever given them even a customary oiling before. Scathael chewed on his lower lip. That could potentially prove hazardous to his plan, but it wasn’t as if there was anything else he could do at this point. He flipped the switch to stop them from turning. One-by-one, he carefully plucked them from their axles and laid them on the floor by his feet, arranged according to their size.

Scathael had repaired enough such mechanisms to pay for food and lodging to know how a large majority of them worked. Connecting the fans directly to The Den’s power plant would cause them to spin much too fast to be of any practical use. It was thus the job of the gearbox to essentially reduce and limit the power given to the fans. With a little creativity and intentional malpractice, however, Scathael could just as easily reverse the process and instead feed the fans as much power as The Den could provide. It was, at best, a wild idea and at worst, a stupid one, but it was all Scathael had. He didn’t even care about the fight at this point; no matter who won, the gas would still linger and stay, and cause problems for everyone involved, himself included.

He hammered the last gear into position just in time to hear someone’s muffled attempts to parley with the Warforged. A brave attempt, but not one Scathael was confident would succeed. “Lady Fate, don’t piss on me now,” he said drily beneath his breath, then pulled the switch.

The gears crunched once, then twice, and then spun with such intensity that they visibly shivered on their axles. The fans spun until they made a loud whine, and a gust almost knocked Scathael back. The strong wind tore through the kitchen, rattling utensils and sending loose parchments flying. The dark elf gathered his things and made a quick exit. It was unlikely that the gears or even fans themselves could keep this up for long before, quite literally, shattering themselves. He wanted to be away when that happened. It didn’t feel like the sort of thing he could repay with just his labour.