Oratorio, //O3 - Bladerights Estate
_{In collaboration with @ERode}

---

Elys scanned the room, picking up on monochrome ‘feels' of gravity playing off of objects. Her ‘stare’ focused on one item in particular - the humanoid figurine. Hovering, before her attention shifted to the mass as it- she, spoke.

"I'm looking for work, ma'am," Elys said. "Crag said this was a place where a blade could be used."

Yes, Crag had said this was a place where her skills could be used. What she was sensing wasn't lining up, though. There were children here. There were studies. Everything screamed that this place was simply a plain old orphanage, and she could take her staff and move on.

But a singular noise contradicted all of that. The strange noise of wood clacking on wood.

What did it mean?

Elys brought herself back to the conversation, back to the question asked.

What did she value?

A strange question.

Sensations passed through Elys' mind. The smell of smoke, being suffocated under floorboards. The weight of a sword in her hand.

Burning brighter than all of them, ascending the stairs, to the top. Bated breath caught in hopeful lungs.

"I value justice, and a dream."

Another pause.

"Who... am I speaking with?"

That question was left unanswered.

"Come with me," was what Elys heard instead, the presence heading deeper into the estate.

"Who taught you to wield a sword?"

Lips pursed, Elys followed the mass with ease, staff in hand, as they ventured deeper.

"I taught myself, ma'am." A slight pause. "It was... necessary."

There was no response. A door hinge creaked, and the smell of incense was lessened as the outdoor way blew in. The estate had an inner courtyard, where the clacking of wood sounded more loudly now.

Plenty of individuals present. Plenty of pairs, swinging wooden sticks at each other.

The intention became clarified soon enough.

This "ma'am" strode to a rack against a wall, taking two more sticks. One for herself, the other for Elys. Around her, the clacking of wood quieted down, the students shifting to give both women space in the center. A few whispers sounded, curious about the stranger with masked eyes.

"When you're ready."

In one smooth motion, Elys took the stick offered to her while giving her staff to one of the students to hold. Ah, she understood now.

They stood across from each other. Elys’ hand wiped the wooden stick down, getting a feel for its dimensions, before she raised it, lowering her stance.

At once, she shot forward, locked on the mass in front of her. Her stick came down diagonally, and was met with a resounding clack of a block. She struck again, pushing forward, trying to get the mass pinned against the wall. Another strike, and another, before the ‘ma'am’ pushed back.

Elys lost ground, backing out of the strikes as they came. The “ma'am” had a way of making her strikes unpredictable, causing Elys to take another step back.

No matter.

Elys spun, her stick snapping into a scooping motion, before she followed with a furious jab.

Both were parried flawlessly, before the “ma’am” spoke. “Don't lose control.”

Brief confusion flickered across Elys’ pursed lips. How did she know?

A hot exhale of breath, a brief step back, a brief coil, before springing forward again, trying to keep her movements tight and controlled. She began to encircle the mass, trying to find a break in the defense. Diagonal slashes down, from the sides, step, step, more downward slashes. They increased in speed, in fervor-

Clack!

The “ma’am” swatted aside her attack and came narrowly close to striking her chest. Elys sidestepped, feeling the rush of her hair and robes in the wind from the speed.

“Lower the intensity.” The mass said.

Elys’ lips spread into a thin line, feeling her competitiveness begging to go all out.

But this was a sparring match. She just had to play it smart. Difficult, given the experience and skill she was up against.

Her breath was coming in even gasps, her pulse rushing through her ears, body alive and sharp with adrenaline.

This time, she waited for the mass to approach first. This time, she would be ready.

As the monochrome ‘sight’ of masses playing off gravity, and a stick swinging towards her, Elys took a step forward. Her stick parried to the left, pressing the opposing stick to the side enough to leave the ‘ma'am's body open. She took another step forward, aiming to go for the neck.

But, as her stick snapped forward, a familiar weight was pressed against her own neck.

The “ma'am” had easily slipped past Elys’ own defenses, and now they perfectly matched in their spar-ending poses. Noting her opponent's stick, it had actually made contact, while Elys was just an inch off making contact.

Elys took a gasp of air, breathing heavily against the stick against her throat.

"A draw."

Perhaps if both of them moved at their full speed, it would be a different result, but as it stood, there was no difference between a blade at one's throat and a blade an inch away. Neither trajectory was impeded; both swordswomen would have their necks sliced open in sequence.

"You taught yourself how to fight animals and monsters. That has made you direct and forceful, your sword a cleaver. Your footwork is all over the place, made to work more through athleticism than technique."

She retracted the stick.

"But it's an honest style."

Around them, the sound of clacking wood resumed, some sort of unknown signal made for the students around them to go about their own training once more. There was a breath, a rolling of the shoulder, before the woman spoke up once more. "I am Therese, the instructor of the Bladerights. Wield your sword for me, and I shall teach you how a sword may become more than a sword. But if your dream is of more import, then I can offer you a bed and a meal, on the condition that you spar with my students on occasion."

Elys’ lips parted in awe. Was she just… was she just offered a place among their ranks? A place she could call home? A place where She could wield her sword in a good way, with a good name?

It was everything she could have hoped for.

And, sensing the clacks of wooden sticks resume once more, Elys had every reason to settle down here among the children as a fellow acolyte, as a sparring partner.

“That… sounds wonderful…”

But, alas, she knew in her heart she was not meant to stay. Something pulled at her. To the void that existed within the Abyss. The unknown.

There was a slight apologetic look that graced her lips as Elys squared her shoulders.

“Madame Therese, you honor me. Alas, I’m called to the Abyss. I would like it if I could spar with your students here, spend the night, and venture out tomorrow.”

---

And indeed, the words of the child informed Ananta of everything she needed to know.

Well, perhaps that is a small exaggeration. Certainly, Ananta could easily base her decision off of those two words, but whether or not she had the tools to truly help would be another matter entirely. Indeed, for those without a strong innate resistance to such things, even something as simple as a common cold, or an otherwise easily treatable infection, could spell the end for a slumborn of any sort. That was just the reality of the environment her fellows were forced to suffer through.

Indeed, every inch of life was a battle for even something as good and well as air that does not burn the throat. Something that she learned, later in her adventuring career, likely came from an abundance of mold or something similar. Every single aspect of the world that surrounded was actively working against her fellows, all for the sake of dragging them down into the dirt, to proliferate off of their corpses to drag down even more. To survive, you needed to learn how to cope. How to breathe, and how to move. How to walk and run, and how to hide. How to figure out who is diseased, and with what, to know who to avoid and who was an acceptable risk...

But then, she was getting off track. Though the child's situation was far from unique, Ananta wouldn't be particularly surprised if she could find many others in the Underpass looking for help with something similar, there was a chance that she might be of help. It was a small chance, it entirely depended on if what she had on hand was enough to heal the mother... but she would try.

As such, after that moment pause to ponder, Ananta spoke quiet enough for only the child to hear. "I cannot guarantee a cure to whatever might afflict her... however, should I possess something that might assist your mother, I will provide." For the time being, the Abyss had become the furthest thing from Ananta's mind.

Her path, for the time being, had been decided.

"Please, lead the way." She finished, at the same volume as the rest.

She did have some amounts of medicine with her, so there was a chance...

//O11 - Deserted Backstreets
The three thieves traversed through town without much more in terms of fortunate or unfortunate encounters, keeping to themselves as they sought out a proper hideout among the shacks and alleys, the shoddily-made buildings of the Outer Layer. And while the potential hideouts they found couldn’t be considered anywhere fit for one to live in, they certainly could be fit for storing ill-gotten gains or hiding away from angry mobs.

A derelict warehouse, the home of rats the size of one’s hand, offered plentiful boxes for storage, rotten as those boxes were. The rats themselves, so long as one had a long stick, could be temporarily scared off, but there had to be an understanding built here, mutual respect built between mankind and the rats. It would take only one bite to end a life.

The sewers, filled with a nightmarishly sludgy stench, offered another avenue for long-term storage. While entrances were few, the labyrinthian sewers served as a perfect hideout if one wasn’t afraid of getting lost. Of course, hiding spots in sewers didn’t exactly take a genius thief to figure out. Just because the trio didn’t encounter any others within the sewers beneath the Royal Road during their first venture did not mean that they or their loot wouldn’t be discovered by another sewer-venturer down the line.

Other avenues could be found in an abandoned watchtower off to one corner of the district. The structure was a groaning, creaking thing, even on a day with no wind, and it was difficult to gauge just how much longer it would last for. The interior took some actual climbing skill to navigate, and if it collapsed, it would no doubtedly take everything in their hideout with it…but for that same reason, Talia couldn’t imagine anyone else thinking there was anything of value in here. Sometimes, it took a gamble.

But why take a gamble, when you could take a sure thing instead? Local gangs certainly offered such services, and one of the slumlords even offered a small suite in one of their properties free of charge, if only Talia and her men would do him an occasional favor every once in a while. It was certainly more secure than a random hiding spot, and it had the added benefit of serving as a place for them to sleep without worry too.

It was, of course, also a choice that may be naive. How much upwards mobility could she expect, if she were to align herself with an existing gang, while she herself was a total outsider?

The options were before Talia, nonetheless. With her numbers, it’d be difficult to renovate and maintain more than one of these potential hideouts.
_@OwO

---

//A14 - Slaughterhouse No. 4
The dwarven woman let out a low whistle as the chains suspending the sandbag creaked rhythmically. The genetics of a dragonkin was nothing to scoff at, certainly, when even a shrimp like Frederika could generate that much force.

“You can hit hard, sure, but plenty o’ hard hitters round these parts. Like yer gusto tho, kid.” She nodded, then turned her attention back to Almagest. “If yer not giving her up permanently, guessin' ya don't know our deal in the Slaughterhouse. We usually take ‘em in, make sure they know their ropes. Then work ‘em up an audience n build a story up to get folks riled up.”

She did some calculations in her head quickly.

“Could bring her into one of the battle royales tonight, but just need ta know, old man. You’re rentin’ her out then? Kid’s not plannin’ on being one o’ my own?”
_@Izurich

---

//O7 - Public Square
The wagoner was a man in his fifties, thickly built with a head that reminded one of a fish: bald and oval in shape, with bugged-out eyes and an overbite. He looked down at Lethe upon the Ichor-Blessed’s approach, blinking twice in the way that someone unaccustomed to people speaking to him did. A flick of his wrists, and the reins on the draft horse snapped, the beast itself slowing to a stop.

“Out the city,” was the response. “Found something you want?”

Around the other side of the wagon, his partner stepped out, more curiosity rather than suspicion in his own gaze. No one had reason to rob the corpse-collectors, after all. “Who’re you to ask anyhow? Don’t look like you’re around these parts.”

An assertion that came, no doubt, from the fact that Lethe had approached them to begin with.
_@Thayr

---

//A3 - The Entrance into the Abyss
As their path continued through the Adventurer’s District, quietude began to descend. It wasn’t due to the decreasing amount of people, no, for there were still plenty of adventurers present. But outside of those who were bold and inexperienced, less of them saw it fit to make merry. They had to get into the headspace for adventure now, after all. An adventure not through the vast lands, but through the forbidden depths, where death and glory was divided by a borderline the width of one’s blade-edge. Grand walls loomed before Theodore and the mining crew, and rather than entering through any ground-level gate, they were marched up the staircases instead, trudging up higher and higher until they joined many other adventurers upon the tops of the walls.

It afforded a view that was at once beautiful and terrifying.

Behind them laid the entirety of Oratorio and the lands they had traversed to enter this city, a sprawling of terrains and the cloud-dappled heavens. Before them was a sheer drop into the depths of the Abyss, the hole bored into the planet when the Thousand-Faced God was slain by a foreign entity that pierced through the firmament. This was the cradle of the monsters, that accursed labyrinth from which corrupted creations spawned out of. Standing on the edge, Theodore could not help but entertain the idea of simply stepping off the wall, of plummeting into his destiny.

A drive towards death. It would come for him either way. Why delay it? Why not return as fast as gravity would allow, into darkness so deep that he could make out no details of what laid at the bottom, even when the sun was shining bright overhead?

But the Ichor-Blessed did not step off. Shepherded by a gruff-voiced man, he was instead lead upon a rudimentary elevator system, crammed upon a single platform that no doubt was overtaxed by the presence of everyone aboard. The chain was a lifeline for all these miserable, unprepared, undersupplied part-time labourers, but that chain looked so fragile, so slender.

It slinked away nonetheless; his ‘employee’ would be taking the next elevator down, no doubt with much more space inside the wooden cage than was afforded to the twenty-odd that Theodore and his followers were stuck with.

What could be done though?

Without power, all he could do was plot and bear with it, the abyssal descent a snail’s pace rather than a freefall.
_@Silverpaw

---

//O7 - A Shanty Between Buildings
The girl was still for a moment. As if in disbelief. Being ignored for so long had paralyzed her to what she would do if someone actually heard her story and sought to help her in a way that exceeded a coin or two dropped in pity.

It was the movement of others in the Underpass though, that forced her into action. Other beggars, hearing of medicine being offered, shifting and preparing to approach. Other children, for there were too many children, who saw the possibility of a soft heart, a charitable soul. The girl nodded, then turned, guiding Ananta out of the Underpass and into the Outer Layer once more.

For one Ichor-Blessed, it seemed, the Abyss could wait.

Thirty five minutes and twenty nine seconds later, the dark-haired adventurer found herself in the space between two larger buildings, nothing more than a nook made due to inefficient spacing. The remnants of a wooden fence and rough canvas wrested from an old carriage formed a roof for the pathetic shanty, where an older woman laid. Her hair, a dull red, seemed to have wasted away with the rest of her body, her clothes hanging off her bones. Upon their approach, she opened one eye, the shifting of the blankets indicative of her grasping something hidden.

But it was her daughter, with a stranger who didn’t look completely a scoundrel. The woman relaxed, if only enough so that she could sink into the fatigue of sickness once more.

“Thank you.”

Words, rasped out from a leaded tongue. Her child scrambled to her side, helping her sit upright as she beheld Ananta properly. There was gratitude, but resignation too.

“You got hurt again, Sasha.” She nudged the girl’s cheek. The bruise was forming. “I told you. Watch out for yourself first.”

“But ma, she says she can help.”

“And I told you.” A dry cough sounded, the movement causing the blankets to shift once more, revealing bare flesh and the very edges of a strange, pulsating mark. The woman moved her blankets once more, covered it up once more. “It’s not something that can be helped.”
_@Kero

"..." Frederika would've made some kind of smug grin when the establishment's staff complimented her strength and guts, but then she just had to sneak in a disparaging remark there, not the first time, nor would be the last, but since the woman was the welcoming sort - unlike that other ringmaster - the dragonkin decided to just assume that 'kid' here referred to her being younger, instead of a literal one, whatever the truth was, she'd substitute it with her own, for the sake of smooth employment.

With the demonstration over, it was Almagest's turn to continue the business negotiations, an exchange of service for pay, "I see, so you take in people and hone them into fighters," The astrologist nodded as he briefly glanced toward the arena, "I can see that you're running a quite successful venture here." Detached from his family's teachings he might be, Almagest was still the son of merchants. "Yes, she will work for you as one of your entertainers in exchange for salary, but I'll let her manage the details with you herself." As he said, he was just here to accompany her.

"Yep! What he said~" The petite horned woman smirked, "I even brought my own weapons if that means anything, can't say that I'm not prepared for this!" Rika quipped as she showed off her gauntlets, one of the things she and Almagest bought with their life savings before departing on a one-way-trip for Oratorio, "Battle royale? Sounds good, so, how much does it pay?"

@ERode

“Just honest pilgrims,” came the gravekeep’s response to the second, looking the pair over with honest appraisal. They were surprised by the question, by the wonder, and that meant they came and went without issue from the gangs and such which they had earlier passed by. It meant the practice they gave, whatever it was, wasn't a new one. It had become accepted, cemented by all as fact. That could bode ill or well for the gravekeep. It depended on the practice itself.

He looked up at the first man, older and well-worn. A thought came to Lethe, a minor worry compared to it all. “Work, maybe. What happens out the city?” The gravekeep adjusted the shouldered shovel pointedly with that implied meaning as he asked. Sucking his tooth for a moment, he nodded, adding, “Mind we talk as we go? Wouldn't want to hold you up.”

Oratorio, //O3 - Bladerights Estate > The Underpass
_{In collaboration with @ERode}

---

"Ah, the dream."

There was both understanding and resignation in the older woman's tone.

"Little other reason to come to Oratorio, except for the Abyss's siren song. Regardless though, so long as your hands remain clean, you're welcome here. A name would be convenient though."

Elys slightly grimaced. In her efforts to keep up with the instructor, she had forgotten an introduction.

“Elys. Elys Adair, ma'am.”

She considered her travels thus far. She had an early start in the day, and imagined there was still time to explore before calling it a day.

The instructor had her worried, though. Was it really so difficult to keep one's hands clean in a city like this?

Regardless, the desire to use the day to her full advantage was upon her. She could at least relax knowing she had a place to rest for the night.

As one of the students passed her staff back to her, Elys spoke. “I will do my best to honor your welcome, ma'am. I will try to return before night comes. There's some of the city I want to see today.”

Staff in hand, she bid farewell to the Bladerights Estate and continued down the road. She walked towards the heart of the city, following the call in her heart more than gravity. She made note of where and how she walked, ensuring she would be able to find her way back ‘home’ again.

Thus, she found herself at the mouth of a tunnel - The Underpass. And she walked inside.

//O4 - Main Streets

Sebi and Sumiye left 'Sunchy' to his dreary position as they departed -but not without a delicate wave on Sebi's part, to add another final seal to Sunchy's even more delicate psyche. The two ladies left the wall partitioning the Royal Road and made for the 'Onyx Sardine'; a terrible name for a bathhouse if ever there was one. Who would think to give their establishment a connotation of saltiness and fishy smell? Sebi hoped dearly that it was some sort of historic joke to the place, and not any genuine descriptor.

Leaving the Outer Layer via the Royal Road's underpass, the two kitsune delved into a dark, perhaps even seedier stretch of the city wherein their foreign appearances earned them no less of a staring audience. At least there were no guards here to make comments on their race. Poverty appeared even more rife down in the tunnels, and Sebi's mood turned sour.

It was not a feeling of revulsion, but of helplessness.

In the city she lived in for most of her life, poverty was not an alien concept -but the depths of it she saw here cursed her with a kind of eldritch knowledge that threatened to drive anyone suitably unaccustomed mad. In the city of Tairyo, she was priestess, and for all of her unaccountable behavior after defending the city, her responsibilities never quite went away. It was perhaps when the needy were in need that she was most attentive. Tairyo was so loveable in part because of the tiny fraction there who suffered in ways like she was seeing here in Oratorio. A great amount of the pleasure she took in playing priestess was in the happiness she saw in those starving given food, and those cold given shelter. These were the things she loved the most herself -a warm cushion, and hot food- and so in giving them to others...

But here... how could she even begin to fix something like this?

"It will take time," Sumiye said sagely, eyes forward amidst the shadowed suffering. Sebi's worried expression was yanked away from the source of it, and she blinked. Had Sumiye once again read her mother's mind, or was it merely coincidence? Sebi knew her daughter shared similar values, and so it was just as easily that she was feeling the same things. She said nothing to her daughter, but the silence spoke volumes.

//A5 - Adventurer's District - The Onyx Sardine

As a distraction, Sebi relayed her "plan" to Sumiye under whispered words, earning a smile and a sigh from the more pragmatic daughter. She went with it, nevertheless. Their first step of course was to get a bath, and approaching the Onyx Sardine as they made it out of the underpass and into the Adventurer's District, that first step was at hand.

Here in the Adventurer's District, things were considerably more quaint and sturdy, but still maintained that deeper nature of Oratorio Sebi and Sumiye were only still getting used to. A large building of stone stood before them, with clouds of water steam billowing out of chimneys and ajar windows. Inside was an army of workers -and an army of smells. Oils and perfumes saturated the interior giving Sebi a moment of nostalgia and Sumiye a developing headache.

Excited for a proper bath, the two ladies' hopes were to be dashed by the scaly, intimidating, bouncer-receptionist heading the front counter. The baths were closed until evening, and all that they could be offered was buckets of water and malnourished slivers of soap.

They'd take it, of course.

Unfortunate, but not a total defeat. Sebi would accept the lesser bath with a disappointed demeanor, but nevertheless make the most of it. She and Sumiye would make the buckets and soap work between them efficiently, given that the buckets themselves were some change-per-fill. The truly awful part was finding a spot to even do the cleaning in private. That, and Sumiye leveling several complaints about the length of her mother's hair and how much water it was taking to properly wash out. By the end, though, Sebi and Sumiye had rid themselves of dirt and smell and were as pristine as they'd ever been in some time. The two couldn't help but exhale in deep satisfaction as they stepped away from the Onyx Sardine.

Next on the list for Sebi's plan was to buy some innocuous items -specifically a carryable crate or box of some kind. Along the way through markets in the district, Sebi engaged in a very specific gossip with whoever might lend her an ear.

_@ERode

---

"Yes, Sister Laina." He responds. "I might not be the most vicious with the blade like my Brothers, but I did receive some training around axe and shield. Enough to earn coin for my monastery."This is a fact with an asterisk behind it. The monastery's combat training for Cantor focuses on teamwork, squad formation, tandem footwork, and raising a shield. He was trained to block arrows for his brother, to raise his shield in tandem with his brother, and to lunge an axe at an opening his brothers had made.

This was good enough for the Head Priest. After all, Cantor is an embalmer. One of the few good at the job. As such, Cantor did not see much action compared to his other more combat-oriented brothers. The furthest Cantor ever traveled as a mercenary was during a 2-week caravan escort. It was 4 towns away. The most noticeable thing on the road was the merchant's diarrhea and eventual succumb to fever. It was a sunny day.

Cantor knew the difference in his combat capabilities when compared to those with more experience. However, what he did not anticipate was how much his dependency on teamwork and cooperation from others hinders him. Without them, Cantor was just a guy who knew how to raise a shield and swing an axe. A mediocre one at that.

"Do you have any suggestion for my motion earlier? You seem to be the most accepting of my idea." He motions her to a nearby empty table, away from other Acolytes at work.

---

Ah. So while he didn’t recognize true beauty, between the books and painting, he had at least some learning and culture to him. Firenze hadn’t stopped preening the entire time, glowing under the attention that Camille showered on her by painting her. Of course, Meisa would drown her paladin in shit later, but for now she continued to be friendly with the painter.

“Hmm hmm, I see. Perhaps their intent was to grant you that very understanding?” she ventured, recalling the subject of the paintings that she had peeked at upstairs.

The golden-haired elf nodded at the question she received in return, expecting the bit of quid-pro-quo here. “Hum… I suppose that’s a fair question. Two things,” she replied, holding up two fingers, “I’ve been growing tired of the state of affairs of the past two centuries. Culture and civilization have taken a turn for the worse… and it feels like I’m the only one among my people who has any motivation left to do anything about it! Otherwise I would have started there, but it does feel like I’ve had a strange calling to come to Oratario that is difficult for me to articulate.”

She shrugged at that, but continued on, “On the Royal Road… I’d like to get a true feel for how the city works, as dangerous as it is. And I would rather not immediately return to old habits.”

Meisa gave a small laugh at that. That, at the very least, was quite true.

"A calling? Like that of saints from the pre-Godfall Era?"

The golden-haired elf hummed. "Not quite, yet that's likely the best way to describe it," she nodded. "That spark to actually do something does have a similar feeling."

"Mmm, well, I'm sure that a work so great as 'improving civilization' could only be overseen by one with an equally great lifespan ahead of them. In absence of the divinity recorded by historians, it appears that others naturally drift towards self-servitude."

A pause.

"Though I suppose that's always been the case."

"Well, yes. Firenze does exist, after all. Do you see how well she preens?"

"Hey!"

Meisa continued on. "Eheh, I suppose. I've been finding the city wanting, but it's nice to see someone who appreciates the classics. As a native, what is your perspective on things here?"

Camille chuckled at the interaction between the two elves.

"That countenance too, is a charming thing."

He dwelled in silence a bit longer, intent on reaching certain point in the painting, before setting his brush down.

"I would say that Oratorio is very much a city that encapsulates the stories people tell of it. It is where opportunities and wealth spring up aplenty, and also where the lawlessness of the frontier manifests. And I suppose too, that it is this way by design."

The young man turned towards Meisa for the first time.

"Could I ask for your perspective too, as one who laments the decay of society?"

The elf shook her head. One could be cultured, and still have no taste. She allowed him his silence as he continue with his painting, her own curiosity making her lean in to watch until he furnished her with a reply. She didn't expect to be having a proper intellectual conversation today, fully expecting to continue trading barbs with her purple-haired companion, but the conversation with Camille was welcome and actually rather informative.

"Ah, well... You can apply the moniker of the former to any city in nearly any time period." She looked thoughtful as she hummed again. "The only difference, I would say, is that in Oratorio, it is as you say, in the absense of divinity. Everyone works for themselves, rather than together, or for others, which is how a civilization properly functions. I am merely an outsider looking in still, but I find it a minor miracle that the city has yet to collapse in on itself without the proper cooperation I would expect..."

She paused. "I suppose the existence of the Abyss and the way it churns through fresh blood has something to do with it."

"Or one could think of Oratorio as a microcosm of the world, rather than just a city. War breaks out and nations fall, but the world itself doesn't fall apart, no?"

"Ehh... as a political experiment, maybe. When it goes beyond, the comparison falls apart. As a city, everything is intertwined enough that each part is truly a smaller portion of the whole. A small amount of rot will eventually spread to the rest, and I don't just mean disease. The great merchants of my day would shudder at the lost potential of it all."

She turned the question back on him. "As a resident, do you not want to see the city and that within rise to its proper potential? At the very least, it must be tiring having to bring up the ladder every night."

“What do you believe it’s proper potential will be?”

Meisa spread a palm out. "Far more than it is now! A city like this that draws so many people to it should be a prosperous center for commerce like in the great cities of old, not just one that entirely revolves around dying in a dark dungeon. Wealth and an extended franchise brings in better education, thus better appreciation for the arts, and arts develops a proper culture, as opposed to... whatever it is now that can't find any appreciation for proper books like the ones you keep."

"A lovely dream."

He turned back to the canvas, to Firenze.

"Is that why you chaperone her, madam?"

Meisa huffed a bit at the easy dismissal, while Firenze tilted her head even as she kept her certifiably striking pose.

"Well, no. She's absolutely crazy, yes, but has some good ideas, so maybe. It's more force of habit than anything, you know? It's sad. I don't even get a royal salary anymore, or the perks that came with it!"

She made a dramatic show of lamentation as Meisa's turn to exclaim came.

"Hey!"

"Oh, you're elven royalty?"

"Fuck's sake..." she muttered under her breath, resisting the urge to whack herself in the face with the borrowed book from her host.

Meisa shot Firenze --who was still in that damn pose-- a glare that promised a talk later, before she turned and gave Camille a small smile. "By blood, yes. But that was a long time ago, before the fall."

"You witnessed the fall?"

"Ah-- yes?" She blinked, confused for a moment. "I'm sure I mentioned it earlier... but I did. We both did. I remember what it was like, before then. It might be selfish, but I do want it back. It's why I'm here."

The man considered things for a moment.

"In that case, if you're willing to entertain further conversation regarding life and culture in the past era, I will be more than happy to offer what assistance I can provide to you and your lady, Firenze."

Camille gestured, a lopsided smile forming.

"Even if that would be only an atelier, some tea, and my proficiency with the brush."

"I wouldn't mind at all," Meisa agreed, after a moment's consideration of her own, happy at having finally gained a follower in Oratorio. "Most people don't care for hearing about the past. I would be glad to tell you stories of the old era in exchange..."

Her words trailed off as he addressed Firenze directly again, who was beaming now. Meisa clicked her teeth shut, but controlled herself as she let out a sigh. She had to consider who she was dealing with, after all.

"Certainly," Firenze chimed in, looking like the cat ate the canary. She would be staying under a proper roof again! "I'm sure there's lots of lost history and culture that Meisa can divulge. In the meantime, you can paint me all you want!"

The golden-haired elf rolled her eyes. She had to consider who she was dealing with, after all.

The conversation settled down after that, with Camille focusing on painting after the two elves finally accepted his offer of tea. Having gained a follower in Camille, she left him to his art as she cracked open his book and found a comfortable corner to relive some culinary nostalgia. The painting was done after a few hours—and when Meisa and Firenze had a look at the completed work, while it wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t a masterpiece, either.

Despite that, Firenze showered praises on the man and gladly accepted the offered painting.

No doubt he would continue to improve now that he had such blessed inspiration in the form of Firenze, at least according to her.

With a spare key in hand and the comfort of shelter, the gamble had paid off well. Of course, they still hadn’t actually gotten into the Royal Road, but with an actual property to work out of, there was a lot more to work with. They still needed some proper income, though, and more of a picture of Oratorio, so with some light still left in the day, the two elves left once more to explore the neighborhood around Camille’s atelier.

---

Ananta observed the child's - Sasha's - mother and their home without judgment. The home, though many would likely hesitate to call it as such, was something made out of pure necessity... Though, given the state of Sasha's mother, Ananta assumed that she'd made it either a long time ago, before her body had undergone such deterioration, or appropriated it for her own use. Such was the way of things.

But these idle musings did nothing to help either of them, so Ananta banished them from her mind. There were far more pressing concerns, in her mind. Such as that strange mark that she'd gotten a glimpse of.

But before she would inquire further, it seems some clarifications were in order. Ananta spoke gently, "I said I would see if I could help, I would not dare speak of a guarantee. I know not of what afflicts your mother." And past that, introductions. "I am Ananta, ma'am." She said, inclining her head. "I cannot say for certain if I can provide a solution for what might ail you, but if you are willing, I would see if there is naught I can do." She held some experience when it came to illness, but if she were to make an assumption off of what she saw, Ananta could guess that this wouldn't be quite as simple as that.

The woman coughed.

"Would it be too much to ask you to...take my daughter out from Oratorio, to a village or town far from here?"

"Ma!"

"This isn't an illness that can be fixed with medicine, and this stupid girl won't stay at the orphanage."

... Ananta knew that such a thing was within her power. Indeed, though she could certainly feel something writhe inside of herself at the thought of leaving now, she knew that she would return by the time she'd found a safe home for Sasha. Kamal may not be as far away as the mother might like, but it would likely be the best Ananta could do. Even if she could endure the burning coals inside of her for that long, the amount of families she knew that might be willing to take in a child, or just a good orphanage, were primarily concentrated in Kamal. It would not make much sense to go further, when it would likely only serve to harm Sasha.

However, even though she had the ability to do so... Such a thing was an option she would much rather save as a last resort, in a scenario like this. Even if her mother wished for her daughter to leave, and even if it would more than likely grant her daughter a better life if Ananta brought her to Kamal or elsewhere... The fact remained that Sasha very clearly wished to stay with her mother, and was desperately searching for something, or someone, to help. But, more than that, it was Sasha who had reached out to her, and it was Sasha who brought her here. So, at the end of the day, the one who had petitioned for her help was the child, and Ananta would do her best to ensure she completed the child's request.

That said, she would not lie. "... I could do that, yes." She would not do so until it was clear that she could not help, but she would admit it was possible. "The town I call home, Kamal, is likely not quite as far as you would like, but yes, I could." But would not settle to end it there, so she pressed further, "However, ma'am, it was your daughter who brought me to assist you. Even if medicine cannot banish this illness, I would see if there is aught I can do to assist in another way, if you would allow me."

"Kamal..."

A flicker of recognition.

"So you came from there."

It was not quite what Ananta had hoped she would focus on, but so be it. "Yes, ma'am." She confirmed. "I would not call it my birthplace, but it has been my home for nine odd summers." She had started young, incredibly young. So much so that when she had started out adventuring, more often than not, she was laughed out of many a party and job. In the end, she'd made something of herself, but only out of luck.

"You are familiar with it?" Ananta said, attempting to gently broach the subject.

"I've passed by, on my way here."

She shifted her position, as if setting aside that memory.

"Sasha brought you, but why did you come? If you stop for every misfortunate child on your path, you'll never make it to the Abyss." There was suspicion, but it was cursory at best, easily understandable whenever one unaccustomed to charity receives it without reason.

It was a fair question. One that Ananta herself would inquire, had she been in the mother's shoes.

The answer was twofold. One that she could provide with resolve.

"I stopped to hear what she wished to say, and as it was something I might be able to provide, I saw no reason to refuse."

And the other with a modicum of embarrassment.

"And, as you can likely tell from my pack, I may have... overpacked, somewhat."

The hero of Kamal, everyone. Truly, an inspiration.

"A weird sort, aren't you?"

A brief look of surprise graced Ananta's otherwise serene expression, before being overcome by a small smile and a chuckle. "Ah, well, I suppose I cannot deny that, can I?" Internally, Ananta would have claimed fraud, but weird suited her quite well, too.

She shook off her amusement at the comment after a moment, and returned to the task at hand. "But, I believe we are straying, ma'am." Ananta said, referring to her daughter's request.

The woman looked at Sasha as well. Then she held her daughter close while placing a hand over the child's eyes. The blanket shifted off afterwards, revealing a body emaciated, a dark, pulsating tattoo having consumed more than half her body.

"Do you know what this is?"

Ananta took a moment to properly analyze what she was looking at. If she had to label the kinds or markings the horrible tattoo appeared to have distributed across the woman, she would label them as flames. Black flames that had crawled their way over much of the woman's body, that were very clearly harming her in some way. She could see full well why the woman said medicine would not help. If Ananta were to assume, she would point to this being some form of curse. It fit the bill of curses she'd seen in the past. A particularly horrible one, at that. If she were to guess further, Ananta would say that the pulsating of the mark was playing a part in the harm.

And so, she spoke her suspicions aloud. "... A curse, I would say." She said. "One done out of cruelty."

The woman nodded.

"A Banshee resides on the Second Layer, and I reckon I've got five more days in me." She closed her eyes, leaning back. "It takes two to reach the Second Layer."

"Can you do it?"

A Banshee... Well, this would certainly be a first for her, wouldn't it? An undead fiend, loud ones, at that. She'd heard a few tales from the elderly and retired adventurers. Unable to leave that which they are bound to, but they hold the ability of flight. A tricky foe, and one that she'd heard many a tale of loss over.

But could Ananta pull off something like this?

The Second Layer was deeper than she had intended to delve for some days. Ananta had planned to get her bearings with some more contained delving on the first floor... But the woman before her did not have such time to spare.

It seemed, then, that she would have to adjust her timeline.

After some moments of contemplation, Ananta resolved herself, and with her hand on her heart, nodded to the woman. "I will make the delve. Again, I shall not offer a guarantee of success, but I will do everything in my power to put the fiend down." It would be a disservice to everything she was, and everything she represented, to do anything less. She would succeed or she would die in the attempt.

"Do you recall it's location in the Layer? Bound as they are, with that information it would become much less of a task to track it down." If the woman did not, then that would be fine as well. Hunting down beasts and fiends with only an incredibly unspecific guide to their hunt such as "In the forest somewhere" was something of an adventurer specialty, even if she would rather that she got to the fiend as quickly as she could.

"No." She shook her head. "The Second Layer...you'll understand when you see it. And rather than doing everything in your power to kill it...make sure you survive." Because if time ran out, someone needed to know that Sasha still lived.

The location was not...? ... Very well. At one point or another, the woman had clearly braved the Abyss up to the Second Layer, and by virtue of that, she was more experienced than Ananta in that area by a good amount. She chose to simply nod at her words. If the woman believed that all Ananta would need was to see the Layer for herself, then she would trust in that.

The woman pulled out a crossbow and offered it to Ananta. It was a well-maintained thing, made of good wood and thick cord, its bolts tipped with iron.

"This will help, I trust."

Ananta accepted the crossbow without fuss, and inspected it's quality for no longer than a moment before realizing that it was of quality make. She nodded again. "It will."

Before she would depart, however, Ananta had one final question. "Ah, may I have your name, ma'am?" She asked, "It's occurred to me that I failed to ask earlier, my apologies for that."

"Valentine."

Ananta nodded. "Well met, Valentine." A good name, she thought. "I will take my leave. With luck, I will return with success." Ananta said, and turned to leave. She met Sasha's eyes as she did, and Ananta gave the girl the most confident nod she could manage. It seemed to lift her spirits somewhat, as her eyes regained some small amount of hope, so Ananta would call it a success.

About to exit, Valentine called out once more, reiterating her earlier words. "Even should you fail, see to it that you live."

Ananta paused her steps for a moment, and replied, "As you say."

"Good."

And that was that.

In a few moments, Ananta found herself back on the streets of Oratorio. Her hood up once again, her form obscured by her worn dark blue cloak. The streets of this district were much the same as the one she'd arrived to. But she would not spent overlong on those thoughts, not for a second time. With renewed determination, Ananta's feet brought her back to the Underpass.

Once again keeping a close eye on her things, she contemplated her next steps. This development would propel her much deeper than she had intended for, she knew. The supplies she'd brought along had been at the advice of a long retired tavern goer. Supposedly, it'd be what she needed to spend time hunting for a day or two on the First Layer of the Abyss... and she hadn't planned to delve beyond that for some a good while yet. Ananta had hoped to build at least some amount of familiarity with the trials that would be thrown at her, before going to where many claimed the "true" challenge began.

But sometimes, that was just the way of things. It wasn't reasonable to expect everything to stick to a single plan. So, she needed to adapt...

Five days was a heavy limit to be chained by. Ananta wasn't certain as to exactly how long it would take to reach the second floor... but it was likely for the best that she obtained what she needed quickly. Preferably in a day or two. The quicker she managed to delve, the better.

She would need additional supplies, for certain, and she would need them quickly. Ananta couldn't say she was entirely sure as to how she would go about it, but the simplest in theory, if likely somewhat challenging in practice, was to simply acquire more funds. But, then, how to go about such a thing?

... When she reached the Adventurers District, she would need to ask around. There would likely be at least some who were willing to answer the questions of a newcomer to the Abyss.

She would ask around, first, for how much one could make off of a day or two in the First Layer. Despite all the tales she'd heard back in Kamal, few had gone into the exact specifics of what they'd managed to gain, outside of vague exaggerations. For the most part, it was a result of them being muscleheads, but some of them simply could no longer remember. So she would need to confirm that first.

If it turned out to be viable for her needs... then she would consider delving.

The second, then, would be information on what she should expect. It would be good to hear more details on both the First and Second Layers, so she had a clearer picture of what she was getting into. The more she knew, the better prepared she could be to brave the depths.

And, lastly, for other methods of making coin. Though she imagined that it would be difficult to find someone willing to cough up the kind of coin she imagined she would need for her purposes from just a single job... Ananta knew how to be efficient. While a single request would likely not grant her what she needed, multiple very well could.

Information would be her very best friend, for the trials that lay ahead.

🎕 Talia of Roses 🎕

//O11 - Deserted Backstreets

While Talia's options were vast on paper, they were actually deceptively slim. Predictably, each of her zero-cost hideaway options had downsides.

The warehouse of the rats was free from human pests, but the natural guards had no qualms about the new self-proclaimed owners. Not only that, but the rats would eat any stowed away ration or leather goods. Not only that, but if the rats began to covet shinies for their lustre then she would have to constantly fight for her spoils. To die from a rat bite would be a pathetic way for a thief to go; the best death that a thief could have was one that was fake.

While the outskirts had an awful smell, the sewers were even worse. Talia simply couldn't bear to exist down there for long periods of times. Not only that, but the sewers offered little protection beyond the smell.

The abandoned watchtower was moments from collapse. At any time, their coffers could be buried. Not to mention, if they were inside it, they would join their riches in the afterlife.

The offer from a slumlord was the final option. It was a ball and chain, but one made of gold. While they had aligned themselves with a gang, it was as equal an opportunity as it was a risk. It was a great connection to more thieves. With silver tongue and perhaps a more earthly glib, she could convince the gang to be under her instead. Though that would come in time. If things went wrong, the local nature of the gang would make cutting and running to the other side of the city a simple option.

As such, Talia and her remaining two men had begun their renovations to make their suite a base worthy of a thieving divine. She'd continue this until either something interesting happened, her pickpocketing merry men came back, or they finished their renovations.

"Thanks for the meal," happy Voi said to the proprietor as he started eating his chicken wings. Luckily, it was not expensive, and it tasted good, a good thing since it was still between lunch and dinner. Hot food may have been scarce around this hour, but luckily, it was not.

As Voi was eating his meal, he would sometimes look at the others in the room. The youngsters and their map, the older group and the loner. He silently listened to them as he ate. Nothing new was said or seemed important to him, and the older group just kept eating and making remarks. Deciding which group to approach. But he was curious about the quiet loner. He stood out from the others. What does he know of the Abyss? He looks like an adventurer, and maybe he could help Voi in some way.

After finishing his tasty chicken wings and enjoying that last piece of it. Voi had made up his mind on who to approach, and after getting up from his seat. Did he walk over to the loner and tried to get his attention. Sounding friendly, "Hello there, do you mind if we talk for a bit?" Voi is hoping this is not a mistake.

//A14 - Slaughterhouse No. 4
“Ay, those gauntlets, yeah?”

The dwarven woman nodded. From her perspective, they looked more like toys than anything else, but that was fine with her. Slaughterhouse No. 4 was an establishment known more for their larger-scale events, from frenzied battle royales to organized team fights. Some adventurers found their party here; others were scouted out for work as guards of the wealthy. It was important then, to both put on a good show, as well as to ensure that no crippling injuries were received during the show.

Better a pair of gauntlets than a proper-sharp sword.

“Pay depends on placement, but we can talk ‘bout that later.” She peeked her head out towards the courtyard, more looking towards the light rather than towards those still training there. “I’ll run you through rules n all first, introduce you to the rest of the folks here.”

And with that, she began to lead Frederika off to see the rest of the Slaughterhouse, allowing Almagest to do whatever the old man wished to do.

_@Izurich

---

//O7 - Outskirts of Oratorio
A strange sort. Pilgrims to the Frontier City, and yet so willing to walk the way they came.

It was no skin off the back of the workers though. The older one shrugged and flicked the reins once more, while the younger one took that as his signal to get back to work. With a snorting of its nostrils, the draft horse pulled its load once more, wheels grinding against the packed dirt of the main road.

“Gravedigger, are you? Not much work for your sort here,” the wagoner spoke. “We return ‘em to nature here. ‘least for the sorts that end up nowhere.”

The wagon creaked as another body was slung atop the pile. Nothing more than another anonymous figure, to join the others who couldn't make it in Oratorio.
_@Thayr

---

//O3 - The Underpass
It was a tidal wave.

Where else, after all, were those most destitute concentrated? Where else were the hopeful and the hopeless forced to mingle? Where else could injustice and unkindness be found in plain sight? She had some sense of the crush of humanity within the Outer Layer itself, but here, within the Underpass, the sheer fluctuation of masses, the sheer unrelenting stench, the sounds of movement and chatter and begging and suffering, it all fused into a seething, miserable beast, begging for escape.
Some cried out with hoarse throats. Others spoke of brighter topics with forced ignorance. Merchants cursed the rabble, cursed their own inability to travel and trade in the Royal Road. Adventurers focused on what was at hand, striding with intention to a place that would keep them out of a place like this. Workers scrambled by, unwilling to be stalled by any feeling of pity towards lesser creatures. And then was that constant, constant dripping and splattering, the sewage of the district above falling and settling down to those below.

Elys was truly blind here, and her other senses offered little assistance either. Only her staff offered her guidance through the most helpless of humanity distilled into these parts, as the city grounded their will to live into dust.

Would she do anything other than leave, following the flow of the unfeeling mass? Perhaps swearing an oath to be fulfilled in the far future, when most of those present now would be dead?

In absence of many of her other senses, what did her sense of justice offer?
_@Estylwen

---

//A5 - Market Plaza
When it came to crates, Sebi honestly didn’t even have to buy it if she didn’t want to. There were plenty of open crates lying around that she could probably pluck right off the streets, their owners having abandoned them. Of course, if she wanted quality, hand-crafted, tailor-made crates, there were merchants selling them as well, undoubtedly for adventurers who sought to carry more delicate objects with them into the Abyss…but chances were nil that she could afford any of those without turning on the Kitsune charm to the maximum.

More interesting than the procurement of the boxes though, was the chatter of the people around her as her fox ears swivelled left and right, catching snatches of conversation. There were rumors about faulty potions in the market, which caused the ends of more than just a couple parties on the Second Layer, tales of a new adventuring party who had broken into the third layer, as well as news that the Diamond Knight would be returning soon from the Fifth Layer, which would undoubtedly mean yet another lucrative auction would be at hand. Less serious conversation talked of how Hawkeye Longjohn’s group imploded into a civil war over his clandestine courting of both the barbarian and the battle-mage, which ended up with half a tavern full of people injured in the resulting scuffle. Intermingling with that was talk of a mysterious stealer of boots who’ve been performing this most strange heist in the brothels up north. None of the missing boots had shown up on the markets later, however, leading to discussions of a collection of them somewhere.

But where?

Before Sebi could delve into that particular rabbit-hole, however, she heard a voice call out behind her, through the crowd.

“Ah, miss, excuse me!”

Could it be?

Of course she would turn, and of course, she would see a young foxboy, a childish blush coloring his cheeks as he looked up at her. He must have been no more than a teenager, but his clothes, hardy and practical with plenty of pockets, made him out to be an adventurer as well. A fighter, by the sword and shield slung over his shoulder.

“Um, you two are both mages, right? If you don’t have another party or anything, um…could you join ours?” His green eyes flickered with a puppy-like desire. “Please? It just needs to be once, if you don’t like it!”

Further off, the rest of this foxboy’s party waved, a blue-skinned troll with a wild, red beard and a human woman bearing a pack twice her size. Certainly, it looked like they were lacking when it came to true mages, but at the same time, there certainly wouldn’t be any benefit to becoming adventurers out-of-the-blue, no?

…

But there was no doubt too, that if Sebi’s latest ploy didn’t work, neither her nor her daughter would be able to afford to stay even in the cheapest, most squalid inn in the Adventurer’s District. And there was no way two beautiful, well-dressed kitsune would be safe once the sun sets in the Outer Layer.
_@Asuras

---

//A7 - Ordo Benevolence
“Suggestions?”

Laina clicked her tongue.

“The Head Priest’s right, for one.”

Her gaze settled onto Cantor’s a beat later.

“But for two, nothing’s gonna change if we keep going like this. I heard you could kill the monsters on the First Layer with nothing more than a big rock.” She tried to calculate the costs, but apparently didn’t have a head for numbers. “And if you reduce your costs to nothing, you can make a lot more in one day than you would in three days out in Oratorio.”

Laina folded her arms, leaning back against a wooden pillar that seemed to give, just slightly against her small frame.

“You killed any monsters before, Brother Cantor?”
_@Shovel

---

//O4 - Exploring
The area around Camille’s atelier was, as the two elves would find out, surprisingly well-kept. It seemed that immediate adjacency to the Royal Road caused some degree of civility to be present in these parts of the streets, and even the smell wasn’t nearly so bad. And the area surrounding the subterranean tunnels that lead one from the Outer Layer to the Adventurer’s District were commercial centers all on their own. Plenty of street vendors were present, selling trinkets ‘blessed’ with fortune or simply wraps that contained mysterious meat, the sorts of stuff that one could get at the Adventurer’s District, but could get for cheaper in the Outer Layer. Where there was a guaranteed concentration of people, it simply made sense to set up stalls here.

And there too, was profit to be made from the stall owners themselves.

Firenze and Meisa would both notice that a curious ornament, a wooden plaque with a symbol painted upon it, hung from each of the wagon-sized carts that carried their owners’ wares. A strange decoration. Perhaps the symbol of a fledging guild?

Perhaps.

But the more likely purpose was proven when they saw five thugs upend an undecorated cart in broad daylight, scattering the bundles of dried herbs within.

A racketeering operation, undoubtedly.

“Oi!” The leader amongst them growled, glaring at the bookish woman before him. “First time’s free, but second time’s personal, bitch. Ya had plenty of time ta pay up, didn’t you? Asking to be taught a lesson now?”

The guards of the Royal Road, of course, didn’t move to act.

The adventurers and merchants passing by didn’t move to act either.

Why would they? An operation like this clearly implied a larger gang behind it, with more trouble to come in the future for such little reward.

“Hold her down!” Two of the other thugs grabbed the herb-gatherer and slammed her against her up-ended cart. She struggled against their grip, but two-on-one were bad odds when unarmed, and there were two more who were just there to watch as her arms were extended outwards.

The rasping of steel sounded, a short sword drawn.

“Pick a hand. Or I’ll take both.”

Camille’s civility was truly extraordinary. What was happening right now was a much more common thing in the city. Violence, wielded for money and power, as the helpless grieved through gritted teeth.

Would Meisa act?

And if she did, would she even act in defense of the victim here, when there was opportunity to join in on the feeding frenzy instead?
_{@Click This}

---

//A7 - On the Streets
It turns out that, despite being a fraud, Ananta knew enough about the adventurer life to at least ingratiate herself with other adventurers, and all without paying a single coin to do so. She had seen plenty of different adventurers before, after all, and most of them fell into simple enough types that she knew how to avoid the boastful gloryhounds or the near-criminal lunatics on her way to gathering information. A couple of more veteran adventurers traded some tips with her in exchange for news regarding who was still kicking in Kamal, while a quick look through the markets confirmed what looked in demand and what was being sold off for cheap.

Most importantly, however, was the fact that things were dire in the First Layer of the Abyss. It made sense, of course, but still, Ananta was absolutely chilled by the fact that the best possible result of adventuring in the First Layer, at least if one stayed only one day, was to break-even on the amount of supplies that would have to be used to stay safe on that First Layer.

Indeed, everything that she had gathered for her travel to Oratorio would only last her a single day and would only be enough to give her ‘experience’, rather than ‘profit’. In order to make money, she’d have to go in with the intention of sparing her supplies and gear as much as possible, risking injury and death in the process. Meanwhile, the influx of cheap labour available in Oratorio in the form of newbie adventurers who have to make ends meet meant that the above-ground jobs she could gain access to wouldn’t even pay enough to purchase three packets of rations after a full day.

There, of course, was the possibility of working as a porter for another party as well, of simply being the person who bore the weight of the entire party’s supplies and loot, but compared to the types that seemed to be advertising their abilities in that particular industry, Ananta was diminutive.

Could she pose as a deadshot or something then, temporarily join a party as an experienced archer, utilizing the weapon of a dying woman as a marketing device?

Or could she use that weapon, to rob a merchant or two at nightfall, and trust that the lack of proper law enforcement in Oratorio would mean that no one would chase after her?

Adventurers had to be flexible, certainly. How flexible were her morals?
_@Kero

---

//A12 - The Rooster and Ridge
There was more chewing, the sorta hard-boiled chewing of tobacco that only the most grizzled adventurers would do. With a practiced motion, the lone ranger flicked his hat up, just enough that his steely gaze arrested Voi right where he stood.

"Don't normally do jobs for fresh-faced kiddos," he spoke, his tone like gargling gravel, "But you look like you've got the coin to afford it. What's the deal here, pretty boy?"
_@Theyra

“Returning people to nature,” snorted one of the followers, shaking their head slowly, sadly as they spoke in a quieter tone that was lost to the collectors in the din of their cart. “People aren’t beasts. If they were, we’d not be troubled by these worries.”

The gravekeep couldn’t help but agree, his mouth tight as he wryly looked on at the corpse-collectors’ works. To the men in the cart, what they were doing wasn’t ever exactly wrong. They had a problem, corpses in the streets of the countless dead from the city, and they had their solution. Those they took up were never asked about again, no not at all, and in fact were likely not even seen anymore as people. They were cargo, to be shifted about without remorse for the problem which had put them there to die, and in fact such collectors likely did not even have the remorse. After all, what were small men to do, to alter the city such that people would not die so? He couldn’t help but feel regret, though, towards the corpse-collectors. They had a problem, they had a solution, and they were not enlightened to the problems which such a solution would cause.

Lethe could already imagine their arguments in response. The nameless dead died so for a reason, forgotten because they had already become meaningless in life, and so there was nothing left to profit from remembering their names and how they died. He could already see the wonderment in them at the merest hint of a suggestion that burial was better, for there would be no one to mourn at the graves even if they had the time to do so. The base desire for burial and remembrance was never laid as a foundation in such men. What arguments could he present that might move men so?

Would the nameless dead even have anything upon them that might render a service back to a gravekeep merely by its existence? Would they have jewelry that might be sold to fund such efforts? Would they have clothing which might be sold? He doubted it. They were the nameless dead for a reason, lost in the streets for a reason, and likely anything that might have been sold would have already been sold. Likely those who could afford burial would already have their attendants, their gravesites, and turn their noses up at the likes of he and his. The gravekeep let out a long, dejected sigh at the prospects which lay before him.

“The task is a holy one, collector. People are people, and their passings should be written so those who come after know. There will always be work. The center, maybe?”

Oratorio, //O3 - The Underpass
@ERode

---

This nauseating, unfair city.

The Underpass was a trial all on its own, forcing any with a weak heart back from whence they came.

Elys walked in the darkness. A spiritual darkness as much as she had to assume it was a physical darkness. The masses all congregated together, nearly piled on top of one another in the cramped passageway made the way forward clotted with slow progress.

The sounds. The feral, desperate screams. The sounds a person at the end of their wits, descending into feverish madness makes, the sounds of the desperate, ignored, and dying.

It shook the very foundation of a soul to listen to.

And she, blind as she was, had to push all these desperate cries out in order to move forward. To ignore them like the ones before her had.

What was the point of a sense of justice, in the face of such appalling injustice? These people, these human beings had as much right to life as she had. Yet they were considered less than animals, ignored here. The Royal Road happy if those here would simply suffocate and die peacefully.

It was an ugly side to the city that Elys hadn't prepared herself for. She had only seen a fraction of such injustice the night her home was burned down. This…

This was too much.

She couldn't ignore this, could she?

Another step forward, her staff tapping a way clear ahead. Little by little, her heart was dying, dragged down into the screams and hopeless unrest found here. Another step forward.

Was that all she could do? Simply move forward?

Surely, she could do something. Anything.

Especially if she was meant to serve these people.

Elys’ lips flattened into a determined line. She was too aware of her own empty pockets. She had nothing to give these people. Nothing except her words. Her soul.

Following the tormented screams falling from hoarse lips, Elys moved down the passageway until the screams were much louder. Right in front of her. A hesitant hand.

Could she even do something?

Well.

It didn't really matter, did it? Something was better than nothing, after all.

So her hand reached out, gently brushing against the shoulder of the one who cried out coarsely, before gently patting them, holding the shoulder firmly.

“Why do you cry like this? Don't you know you are seen? Don't you know you are loved?”

---

"My biggest martial achievement was to lay down a small giant." He chuckled. A small caveat is the feat was performed with gears. He needs his chainmail, a shield, 2 pikes, 5 caltrops, an axe, and 2 poisoned pigs as bait. This did not include the other gear his ten battle brothers were wearing. The total price was nothing less than 500 gold. Of course, the monastery provided for them when he was one of the battle brothers and even then they still came out with two suffered medium injuries. All of them sustained some minor bruising.

None of the gears are with him now, save for his embalming gears and herbs. This includes 5 knives, a handpump, scissors and clamps, a saw, embalming fluids, and restoration gears. He doesn't even have light armor for crying out loud. But still, if what she said is true, perhaps there is gold to make. His lack of weapons posed a challenge, however. He could use his knives, but one wrong flick and the blade is sure to bend or lose its edge. Perhaps fists...? Brawl is a study and being unharmed in a brawl is a feat...

Perplexed by the enigma of war and violence, Acolyte Cantor decided to study the woman as she is studying him now. His right hand somewhat covered his mouth, the index finger tapped with the random rhythm his subconscious orchestrated. Despite being smaller in size, the humanoid figure carried a certain gives of dexterity and nimbleness. Her chest rises and falls with the sturdiness of a farmer sowing seeds. This, of course, brought Cantor's attention to her black robe and brown leather apron. He could not discern which ordo she came from, or what mission this Sister followed.

"So we are in a dead cycle." Cantor said while continuing to familiarize himself with Sister Laina's features. "None of us here excel at fighting while the landlord continued to charge rent..." He paused, taking in the pupil's color and the frowned eyebrows of his observer. "It would have been different had we been like vultures or hyenas, predators that preyed on the weak and ..." How dare they, have they forgotten the words of God and his message? How dare they, with foul tongues and dirty fingers, defilling our cleanliness? And how could they, from the bottom of their heart, choose to turn a blind eye and snuff out the compassion of a man who devote everything to His Mission?

Taken aback by his poisonous words and degrading thoughts, Cantor apologized to his Sister."Forgive me, Sister Laina. Forgive me for my rage and degrading thoughts."

"Still, I am not a person who idled in the face of destruction. Would you care to join me for an early morning stroll? I would like to get the lay of the land as well as the difficulties from the First Floor."

//A5 - Market Plaza

A bit like hunting for the perfect pebble upon a shoreline for skipping, Sebi was in need of a suitable crate, not just any old discarded box. Commonplace or not, it still needed to look at least serviceable -something that reflected a certain measure of cleanliness, but nevertheless was rugged enough to stand the journey she was planning on faking. As with a shoreline too, totally covered in stone, it wasn't hard to find as much, which she'd begun to lug along through the markets.

Homing in on the chatter of the district delighted Sebi's ears. Plenty of tales were told of just how deep into the adventuring spirit Oratorio was, but it was only in hearing the gossip and news straight from its uncountable legion of dungeon-delvers that she truly understood what this city really was. Opportunities whispered in her perky ears until she felt overwhelmed. A young voice, directed at her, drew her out of the frenzied storm of thoughts she was stuck in.

Putting on her best smile in a new town, Sebi swiveled around to be faced with a rather young adventurer. She couldn't help -frozen in her silent smile- to dwell on the discrepancy here for a brief moment. Was this child actually prepared to venture into a place like the Abyss? Aged as his apparent party-members were, Sebi still felt a pang of worry for the kid.

The two kitsune glanced at each other. Ultimately this was a city for adventurers, from top to bottom. No doubts they would dip their hand into such matters eventually, and what better way to understand that spirit than to participate in it?

...is what Sebi wanted to think, but with such a young, timid -no, not timid. He was brave enough to ask two strangers to join his party, wasn't he?

"Well, I suppose it'd depend on what you're planning on doing in the near-future," Sebi said pleasantly before looking past the boy to the troll and the woman that insisted on suffering as a pack mule. "You look like you're about to delve soon. My daughter and I... we're not exactly prepared at the moment, you see... And furthermore we're both quite new to Oratorio. Quite unused to adventuring and such."

"But we are mages," Sumiye chimed in, seemingly trying to sweeten where Sebi was souring.

"...So, it would again depend. Are you up for two greenhorns?" Sebi smiled again. Conning an artist didn't have to happen immediately, and if the stars aligned, they'd at least get some shelter and food for this spontaneous venture -two things they were going to be in desperate need of by the end of the day.

_@ERode

---

---

The first layer gives the impression of an open field atop a mountain. The air is sharp and humid here, a breeze passing by that's more a refreshing than it is cold. Piles of whitestone rubble are here and there, and there's definitely some ups and downs present, as well as patches of white fog, but there are patches of wildflowers too, of a species that Theodore wouldn't recognize. No monsters are present thus far. He'd note that the wall that he was on top of before this would continue into the Abyss itself, serving as a perpetual boundary.

Around him, his fellow crew members immediately start eating the food they were given.

Theodore gave the surroundings a cursory glance around. No danger yet. Then, as the saying went, he did as the locals did - he ate. The only blooded creatures here so far were the workers and he doubted any would be keen to be fed upon, now or later. His human follower copied him, while the vampire lady pouted. With an eye roll, Theo beckoned her. Frowning, she complied. With an ease that revealed the two's familiarity - if not exactly comfort - with the idea, they exchanged nutrition sources.

In other words, he received her lunch, and Maris bit into his neck to drink some blood. It was easy enough to mistake for an intimate embrace, though neither was that particular about the actual exchange getting noticed. Ezra watched with a predator's gleam in his eyes, licking his lips, but Theo ignored him.

As if there were nothing unusual going on, he turned to a group of workers. "You've done this before, yea? What's to watch out for - do monsters just...appear?"

"Nah. Heard stories 'bout them popping outta thin air in the lower layers, but on the first, you can expect em to pop out from holes or the sky."

The one who answered him upended the sack, shaking it out in hopes of anything he had missed. It was empty though, so he went to tie it around his belt.

"Lotsa fog 'round these parts. We try 'n avoid em, but most times we can't, and that's where the bigger ones like to lurk." The worker turned his attention to Maris. "That your woman? Kinda stupid, bringin' her down here."

"Huh," Theo remarked. He'd not heard that about monsters. Seeing the man seeking more food, the dhampir tilted his head. He still had a bit of his left, given he'd had two portions. He offered the remaining piece of bread and cheese to the man. He figured he might as well reward his cooperation.

"I see," he nodded. The fog, huh. He wondered if Maris could sense hidden danger, but a glance her way revealed nothing except her satisfaction after a good meal. "Can any of them be fought, or do we run?" he wondered. The man, unsurprisingly, made an assumption about their relationship, pointing it out with an insensitive question. "Ah, she's--"

The vampire literally hissed as she turned towards the worker, fangs exposed. "You dare? You, a mere human, would question my prowess?" Theodore sighed, and put a palm on her shoulder. "She's her own lady, and a feisty one, you see," he answered, lips quirked in amusement. "On a good day, she can even beat me." Evidently, the backhanded compliment didn't soothe her ruffled feathers any. "If I had my sword, I'd slice you to ribbons in a second," she glowered. With an offended sniff, and a graceful turn, she walked away - not anywhere far, of course, just the few steps it took to make her point.

"Feisty," Theodore reiterated. He was smiling; inviting, friendly, charming. "What brought you here?" he asked after a beat. Even though more focused on talking, he still scanned the surroundings intermittently.

The man waved it off.

"You'd need it more. And as for fighting monsters...well, dunno where your lady-friend's sword went, but that's what the boss's for. We run and he handles it. Unless it’s too much. Then we're all running."

He looked up. The elevator was descending once more, the trio that oversaw the group about to arrive.

"Just a money thing for me. Risk and reward, yea? Crazier that tidy folks like yourself'd do this though, when you could be an actual adventurer. 'less yer trynna get a dungeon divorce."

Theo shrugged off the refused offer, and stored the food. His eyes tracked the arrival of 'the boss'. He chuckled at the last question. "No, I like her around just fine. I would be an adventurer, but, well...We've just arrived, and are left with nothing – a common enough story, I’m sure. But all in its own time, no? Speaking of, it looked like it was time to venture forth.

Once the trio of well-armored adventurer-supervisors descended, one of them handed out pickaxes to the labourers present. The labourers then headed off, fanning off over the layer. They were to give a shout when they came across a particular cave or tunnel opening in the ground. The practice struck Theodore as odd, so he asked about it.

He learned that the Abyss was a living environment; the caves opened up from time to time across the first layer. One could mine common ores from it, but that was also how the monsters of this layer armed themselves, so there was often a risk of encountering monsters when descending inside. Of course, the supervisors wouldn’t care unless there was a monster inside, so the labourers were expected to get in and get as much work done as possible. Once they found one such cave system, all the labourers descended into it, mining for stones and other materials around the cave, while the adventurers mostly stayed outside.

Theodore was informed that they would have to show the contents of their bags when they left. He could see this lead to disputes between labourers if one of them came across a rarer sort of material. But that was a worry for later. More immediately, the first tunnel system had a ceiling so low that Theo and Ezra had to be in a perpetually-crouching position within. It was extremely uncomfortable, but at least, there was no sign of any monsters.

A tunnel collapse, however, was always a possibility.

A possibility he and his followers ignored as they diligently mined as much as they could.

As Theodore continued to just straight up exist in the Abyss, he got the sense that something invisible was clinging onto himself and his followers. It was a sort of aura or energy, and it was ever so slowly gathering around them. Drop by drop, the energy condensed, yet it barely made a difference. He estimated they would have to make several trips into the Abyss for the energy level to become significantly larger. Out of curiosity, Theo flexed the aura, and he thought it sort of moved as he wanted it to…but that didn’t seem to do anything. Nor did he sense anything similar anywhere else in the area. So, he simply let it be for now.

Since his followers did not appear to notice what he had, Theodore moved to give them a heads-up. However, this was when he heard an alarmed call, accompanied by the sounds of fighting.

Two monstrous wolves with goblin spearmen riding on their backs descended into the tunnel. More were obviously outside, being handled by the adventurer-supervisors. The intruding monsters lashed out at the labourers nearby; the cramped space and low ceiling made it hard for the labourers to get out of the way, while the spears themselves were certainly proper iron spears that had no issues piercing flesh.

After the immediate clearing out of their surroundings, the monsters beelined straight for Theodore.

“Fuck.” The tunnels were too low and convoluted to run well; there wasn’t much beyond the drops bags of ore to hide behind either. Rushing to the nearest bag, Theo picked out a chunk of the mined material, and hurled it at the wolf’s snout. It snarled, but wasn’t cowed. No regular animal, that’s for sure. “Everyone! I’ll keep them busy – just attack when you can! We can get these bastards down, adventurers or no!” His confidence, and the willingness of his two followers to help was enough to embolden the workers too.

Theodore kept going from bag to bag, throwing rocks and ore at the monsters. When a goblin rider got to close, he blocked or parried it as best as he could with a pickaxe. Obviously, against a spear, the tool wasn’t up to task. He’d thought about breaking or stealing one of the spears, but that was no go.

So, he focused on dismounting the creatures from their mounts. Throughout his attempts, his followers and the other workers pitched in when they could, dealing glancing blows, and preventing the two riders from moving him down. Eventually, with clever tactics and luck, he dislodged one goblin.

…

Only for that goblin to jump right on him!

The little bastard was clawing at his chest, trying to scratch his face, and had even picked up a rock to smash his face in.

As Theodore raged and snarled and defended one of his best features, Ezra was the one to notice his predicament. With a smug smirk in place, he came over, and held down the goblin. That was enough for Theo to bite into the creature and drain it dry.

The blood was thin, bitter, and acidy – but he could drink it. He felt he could do this safely only because of his Divine ability rather than any natural dhampiric trait, however.

A quick glance around let him know the fight was over. The goblin-less wolf had been put down by a group of labourers, and the other rider had likely been weakened by his followers before being killed by some desperate workers. Three workers he didn’t know laid on the floor, slain. Two had major wounds, and five others had sustained minor injuries similar to Theo’s.

With a sigh, he turned to Ezra. The human didn’t even bother trying to suppress his glee. “So, how bad is it?” Theodore asked, cautiously raising a hand to his face.

“Mmmm…rudimentary marks made by lowly beasts, but…Delicious,” Ezra commented with a purr. Between one blink and the next, the man was already touching his face, tracing the wounds with a disquieting eagerness. Theodore merely rolled his eyes, however, and lazily slapped the offending hand away.

“Right, never mind. Forgot you were a blood-freak,” he snorted. And that’s a dhampir saying that, yes.
The worker who he’d spoken to before approached. “Aye, good work, there.” Secretively, he handed over a goblin’s pouch to Theodore. With equal furtiveness, the dhampir stashed it away. “Thanks. Good job on living. What’s the name?” The man introduced himself as Greg, and Theodore nodded. He asked about a water source, but apparently there was nothing substantial.

Just in case, he decided to check outside. There, the combat had settled down as well. The adventurer-supervisors were definitely surprised about the amount of monsters that seemed to just zoom in on them – there had been seven pairs total – but money was money. Those with major injuries were being helped up by their fellow workers; they were to be escorted back to the walls, awaiting an elevator up. The corpses, of course, were looted by the survivors.

As all this was going on, Theodore knelt down by a patch of damp grass, and gathered dew between his fingers. With meticulous care, he patted down his face, ensuring that the scratches would at least clean – as clean as he could make do with dew from Abyss. It wasn’t optimal, but it was what it was.

Soon, the supervisors drove them back to work. The intensity of the attack had been a surprise, but also not too out of the ordinary. Theodore noticed the adventurers and the boss had no injuries whatsoever.

Before Theodore returned to work, he observed the adventurers. They went and looted all the monsters’ corpses, even the ones they hadn’t killed themselves. They took any pouches the goblins had hanging from them, and sliced open and removed the liver. They broke off the canines of the wolves for storage, and removed the hearts. They also took the spearheads, but not the spear shafts of the goblin spears. The dhampir memorized the process; these were the valuables from these types of monsters, then.

Once back in the cave, he nodded at the survivors. “Back to it, then, aye? Let’s celebrate surviving by mining the heck outta these damn rocks,” he grinned. Maybe it was weird for him to be so perky, but he’d learned much in this one trip.

“Oh, by the way – if anyone’s ever looking to save on food costs by being able to drink blood, you’ll want to keep me in mind.” He threw that out there, just in case. Couldn’t hurt to have a little advertisement for potential would-be followers.

---

The neighborhood surrounding the atelier was surprisingly decent, for an area within the Outer Layer. Given that their objectives had changed, at least for the day, Meisa and Firenze had changed back into simpler clothing, although it was still attire that stood well out among the downtrodden. Firenze being Firenze, though, didn’t mind changing in front of Camille, if it brought the puppy-like man further in their camp.

Perhaps even without.

The marketplaces near the Royal Road were surprisingly active and running relatively brisk business. Firenze noticed the odd wooden plaques first, and realized their meaning well before Meisa did, given her proclivities towards spy craft. Regardless, the commotio in the square did not take long to catch the attention of both elves. Five ruffians were roughing up one of the vendors in a clear racketeering operation.

Meisa frowned.

The obvious, smart thing to do was to simply look away and continue on with their stroll. In a normal circumstance, both girls had the mindset to do that. Firenze had done things far worse just messing around for fun, and Meisa was more selfish and morally disengaged than her newfound crusade suggested.

But this sort of blatant criminal activity was not something that ever been tolerated in the kingdom she remembered, nor was it something she would want suffered when the people were dancing to her tune. And Firenze had been itching for a fight ever since arriving at Oratorio. As far as the purple-haired woman was concerned, ever since somehow losing her sword on the journey here, having the pick of five weapons to keep was a plus.

She glanced at Meisa for a signal. The golden-haired elf bit down on her teeth for a moment before sighing and nodding. She was going to regret this, she was sure. No doubt there was a big gang somewhere behind these thugs, and perhaps even a wealthy noble in the Royal Road backing them, too.

With the go signal given, Firenze immediately stalked towards the thugs, using the crowd to position herself for the most optimal opening. Having worked together for so long, although Meisa was her charge, she too moved in concert, having an idea of what the purple praetorian was going to do.

Stepping out of the crowd, she approached one of the watching thugs from behind before immediately sucker-punching the man in the temple, using the twisting movement to simultaneously draw his sword and run him through. The man next to him began to react, but by then, Meisa was also in position, and a moment later, he found a boot planted up his family jewels and the man crumpled to the ground next to his companion while she relieved him of his weapon as well before finishing him off.

At this point, the two elves had gotten what they really wanted—weapons and a lesson taught. If they wanted, they could just bail now and be done with it. The guards, it seemed, still didn’t see fit to intervene, which Firenze took as remit to go further.

“You dare…!?”

By now, the other three men were fully alert, and the leader of the group turned with surprise but immediately fell on Firenze with a clash of steel—with the two other thugs hesitating before releasing the poor merchant girl to scramble to the defense of their thug friends. Now that Meisa’s terrifying bodyguard had a weapon, though, some relatively untrained ruffians had no chance. “Nice fucking try, bitches!” With a delighted grin, she met their steel with her own once more.

One of the bandits moved towards Meisa, who was so confident in her paladin that she was already rifling through the pockets of one of them fallen men for goodies. Firenze had enough opportunity to trip the man on the way there, making him fall flat on his face and just in time for Meisa to react by stomping his head with her boot, making it a simple two against one for Firenze. Her footwork and swordplay were superior, though, and after a few parries and blows, her sword took off the head of the leader before running the last rapscallion through.

And the guards still didn’t react.

“Nice work,” Meisa finally said, as if the battle had been foregone conclusion. Seeing that stall merchant was still hanging around looking bewildered and afraid, she turned her attention towards the lady as Firenze cleaned her weapon on one of the corpses and began to check for valuables, too.

“Congratulations, it looks like you’ve been rescued. Now, who were those folks?”

---

Upon reflection, Ananta supposed it made sense. It did not make her want to curse any less, but she could see why the First Layer would give such a low profit. With the sheer concentration of adventurers that make the city home, it only makes sense that the most accessible layer also produced the least value. There was likely an overabundance of spoils from that Layer, which did what supply and demand usually does…

Oratorio was called the City of Opportunity as a result of the Abyss. For any adventurer, the idea of an area that seemingly endlessly spat out monsters and treasures of each and every kind was both utterly terrifying and incredibly appealing. However, the reality of any true opportunity was the fact of risk. In a market so saturated as this, without putting your life and resources in peril… the odds of turning any sort of profit were so small you may as well have never come in the first place.

Back on the road, before she’d arrived in Oratorio, she’d distantly realized this reality. Until Ananta was able to reach below the First Layer, she wouldn’t be getting anything particularly splendorous when it came to rewards. She hadn’t known it would be quite so bad that the best result on the First Layer would be, more often than not, breaking even… but she would survive.

It certainly threw a wrench in her plans, though. She’d expected the average First Layer delve would at least net a small profit, and Ananta had told Valentine she would make the delve with that thought in mind. It wasn’t enough to change her mind on accepting the request in the slightest, but the time limit was going to make this all the harder.

Five days was… not as much time as Ananta would like. Even just one more day would have allowed this to go so much smoother, but that would not be in the cards. Including today, she had two days to turn something of a profit, and obtain some manner of supplies to delve to the Second Layer. And, more than that, given what she’d learned from the adventurer’s she’d spoken to… the blades she’d brought weren't going to cut it.

The crossbow Valentine had granted her was an incredible boon, and was likely going to be essential in the days that would come, but it would not be enough for the Second Layer. Alongside the supplies she was going to need to purchase, she would need new steel… And she should probably ask around for what specifically would be useful against a Banshee later.

But, again, that was for later. Right now, Ananta had far more pressing concerns to ponder as she walked. She needed funding, and she needed it quickly. Perhaps if she’d had a connection or two to reach out to for assistance… But she was not in Kamal, nor any city she’d visited before, and had no such friends. In Oratorio, for the moment, she was alone.

Similarly, any thoughts of trying to pick up odd jobs were dashed. From what she’d been told, market saturation was in full effect, and thus the pay for such things was below nothing. So, she’d need to think about alternate methods. Intrusive thoughts of returning to her roots came to the forefront of her mind. Ananta banished them as quickly as they had come.

And thus, not seeing an alternative, her thoughts turned back to the Abyss and its siren call.

Ideally, she would join a party, however… with the crossbow she’d been given, it was likely that a number of assumptions would be laid upon her. Ones that she knew full well that she wouldn’t be able to fit. Sure, she could work a crossbow just fine, ease of use was practically the selling point of them. She was good enough to aim, shoot, and kill reliably… but she was no deadeye. She wasn’t going to start hitting hundred plus meter shots one after another, and with the good quality she held, the possibility of a party taking her lack of impressive ability as deception was… Well, it was not a chance she would like to take.

Perhaps she might function as a porter, it wasn’t as though she hadn’t done such things in the past, but she could see the competition in that market. With the statues that she would be forced to compete against, it just wasn’t worth wasting the time, in her mind.

And thus, her legs had brought her here. To the edge of the First Layer of the Abyss.

Ananta would need to be as conservative as possible with her gear, and simultaneously secure as many kills as she could. As many spoils as she could.

Her heart ticked faster and faster, yearning to take the next step.

She would need to keep an eye out for the bodies of the dead. The surroundings would need to be checked, to be sure she wouldn’t be ambushed if she went to take, but unless it was too dangerous to risk, anything that their bodies might hold could be another item that could keep her alive… or that she could sell.

She was losing daylight.

She had everything she figured she might need. At this point, difficult as it was, she would need to have faith in herself.

And so, alone, Ananta began her plunge.