Event: White Thresher |Location: Zengali Taleja rolled up her letter and filed it away in her bag. Comte de Grasse certainly had a way with words; she had to give credit where it was due. Alas, she was here for work, so the poetry of the writing was not that important, but at least the gesture was silently appreciated. Upon hearing the news of sickness at the makeshift encampment, it was clear where her skills were best suited.
"If I may, I believe my talents are best suited to tending to the sick at the encampment," she politely bowed her head towards the other students, as well as the high nobility and royalty amongst their number. She gave a deeper gesture towards Princess Penelope and Yvain de Berbignon.
After excusing herself, she made her way to the destination. With her supplies, pets, apron, and plague mask, she wasn’t going to wait to be invited as she intervened on delivering healthcare to the desperate and in need.
As Taleja approached the encampment, the odour of sickness was as offensive and familiar as Perrench opinions of 'Crisians', yet more welcome. She steered herself to the area assigned as a makeshift infirmary and noticed an easily recognizable figure approaching.
"Lady Somia, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she bowed her head towards the figure. Then, she tilted her head towards the infirmary. "I would imagine there will be a number who could greatly benefit from your skills in flesh craft." She reached into her bag and brought out some anaesthetic. "I do have some spare if you require any."
A smell no less familiar to her than that of her own breath permeated these grounds, the smell of rot, pungent medicines and poorly kept equipment. Spare for the visibility of the sky itself the sounds and sights of suffering bore little dissimilarity to the holds of the naval vessels she once served upon during her tutelage. She approached not long after the woman adorned in the garments of a standard plague doctor, said woman addressing her work as they greeted her for the first time. It would seem as expected Trypano's reputation proceeded her.
"Greetings Lady Taleja, a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well." Spoken with the tone of a business negotiation, formality merely a side actor to the meat of her intent. She did not bother to correct Taleja on her title preface. As inscrutable as her expression ordinarily was below the hood of her cloak her expression was all the more obfuscated, what little to be seen simply appearing neutral if nothing else.
"I will note, all forms of medical binding involve the craft of flesh. We mustn't scare the laymen with needless semantic distinctions." She cast a glare to the scant few guards around their presence, wary of her intimidating and mysterious figure.
"My thanks in advance for the offer of anodyne for those who are suffering who may see my care. While I do offer my skills in excising the roots of malady I don't intend to ply my work on those who may choose to refuse it. I am simply along to discover more regarding the source of their suffering, both within and potentially without." She of course hinted regarding their business with the thresher. If any who suffered in these camps were aware of the beast or perchance even had a run in with the creature then it would benefit them to inquire.
"In regards to our ultimate task there is something I wish to discuss... In greater privacy, should the contents of our exchange prove sensitive." She hoped with this it would buy them both an excuse to head in and be able to talk away from the potential barrier of needless meddling from the laymen. After all, the contents of the letter and the matters that might pertain weren't a topic for just anyone to listen in on.
Taleja appreciated Trypano’s concern. “It is a shame we have to face discrimination and judgment from those who don’t understand,” she offered the woman a smile. “I, for one, admire your peerless talents. Your dedication, specialization, and singular pursuit of your craft are truly remarkable feats of a honed and diligent mind.”
“Yes, let’s make time for a discussion,” she responded to the other’s offer. “I feel that your insights would intrigue me.”
The guard's nerves were already fraying from the people slowly dying behind him and the sovereign pact showing up in the port unannounced. Now a pale, crimson haired, taller than yasoi, blood mage trying to 'treat' their injured.
Ignoring the high minded speech the 2 partake in, the guard stood firm, "The wounded inside are delirious so I will be refusing your services on their behalf, now be on your way." The guard kept his hand on his saber and turned to white haired woman, "I can permit you to go in, ask the nurses for the physician when you make it to the wounded."
"It would seem the local busybodies still find plenty of time to make other's matters their own." Trypano began to proceed away from the makeshift camp. Whilst the guards posed no actual threat to her the amount of fuss they'd raise was ill-worth the good she'd lend to the ungrateful lot.
"I'll be attending to matters elsewhere. We can talk elsewhere, either now or later should you decide to press forward with this venue" She turned to address Taleja, broadly gesturing to the camp as a whole before turning back and continuing on. Trypano continued, waiting momentarily to see if Taleja would bother to follow and inquire regarding what she had to say. If not, it scarcely mattered. Whilst the hope had been to do some good by the people first before moving to primary concerns this inconvenience had done little else but simplify her next objective.
It was time to go do... Something. Maybe fix a ship or something? Who knows. Very mysterious, yes. Definitely not blood magic.
Taleja bowed her head toward Trypano, “I will meet you with you after to discuss my findings. I feel that your input would be valuable.”
She then continued past the guard to inspect the wounded.
Taleja glanced towards the performer, her green eyes peering over the beak of the mask. Leon, who had somehow performed a miracle in front of them as if he were Oraff himself, shied away from tending to the others. A trick? She certainly had more questions than answers, more than what that boy would be willing to share, but she was not going to allow an opportunity to go to waste as she moved towards the green vile substance, taking a sample and placing it in a vial.
One thing was clear: she hadn’t come across anything quite like this before. The green 'algae' at first glance appeared to be alive and parasitic in nature, which would explain why the local medics were having such a difficult time handling this outbreak. She approached one of the available staff. "Excuse me, I am looking to assist with this outbreak. Are you able to provide me with a report of your examinations and attempted treatments, so I may provide assistance?"
"Just a moment," a pleasant voice rang from inside the tent, the flap rolling up as Taleja approached. He could be seen wrapping up a green, slimy heart. He tuned to greet her but his face started to turn. His connection to the gift was being strained, and he could only guess it was his new guest.
As she made her request, he kept a hand on the knife he had used earlier. "I am unsure that a woman like you would provide much help here." He seemed worried about having a venomhand 'treating' the sick here.
“A skilled alchemist and medicine woman?” came Taleja’s reply with a soft smile. “Don’t let these noble looks fool you; I am quite versed in the treatment of ailments which go beyond simply using magic, nor beyond getting my gloves dirty in the process.”
She looked toward the heart being wrapped up, giving a solemn expression. “What was their name, and have we informed the family of the passing?” She expressed that empathetic understanding toward the man, “We always strive to do the best for those in our care.”
She held her gloved hand out towards him. “Taleja Drakenknecht, at your service.”
Taleja's distraction from Safiri's main issue had little effect. He was ever watchful of her without his gift at hand. Neither did her acclaimed credentials have sway on him though he did note them. However, when asked about the victim, Safiri acquiesced. "Sir Esuperio Julio, sailor for the Sant'Agata della Compagnia Rossa supporting fleet. He died last Lepdes," the doctor took a moment of solace for the man he couldn't help. "We have, but it will be months before the letter makes it," Safiri looked back to her now judging her offer. The wound tenders are scared to touch the men, and many of the binders are busy repairing sails and ships.
He replaced his own gloves and snapped on a new pair, reaching out his hand for hers. "If you feel confident in your ability, then let's get to work," setting aside his immediate concerns for her nature for another set of hands.
Taleja solemnly smiled as she took his hand and shook it. “I am eager to get started. It would feel like a dereliction of duty if I didn’t provide assistance, given the bravery of those here, like Sir Julio.”
“Outside my skills as an apothecary, my level in the gift is journeyman Chemical, and adept in Binding and Atomic, Master Physician?” She followed the man’s lead, questioning the name following the lack of introduction. “I would appreciate a rundown of what we know about this plague, as to where I should get started.”
Safiri went over to the open cabinet and pulled out the records he has been making over the week and a half. He laid them out in chronological order for each patient to show the progression it has taken.
"We'll start with Sir Julio then," Safiri plucked the case file from the table and put each page on the table
Orredes,
Brought in with the rest of the injured. On the boat, he was confined to the lower levels. A mild fever, increased perspiration, light discolouration on the skin, and various shallow infected and uninfected lacerations. Some history of pneumonia and weak heart as a young boy by his own account. We'll provide basic wound dressings, binding, and a mild stew for him to regain strength.
Lepdes,
Most wounds were easily mended, and most infections could be cleared out with a simple unity of chemical and binding. One wound on his out hip seem specifically resistant to this form of treatment. It doesn't look particularly dreadful but, but the wound is starting to give a light green hue to the area. Sir Julio reports he is feeling stronger, which is good.
Victendes,
Various remedies and treatment were tested on the wound today, none of which seemed particularly effective. Even simply eradicating the infected flesh with binding was of little help, like it was resistant to Oraff's blessing. Sir Julio was well enough to walk again. His colour had returned and he has quite the appetite. Some nurses reported that he talked about feeling sharper than normal, more aware of his surroundings.
Taldes,
The infection has started to spread further into the body without much warning. Sir Julio's strength has diminished, though he was still speaking as he was still fine. His senses still seem to be perfectly acute. The green hue as taken up to his mid-section on his left side and to his left leg down to the mid-thigh. More severe treatments will be used.
Pandes,
Sir Julio is bedridden, worse than when he first arrived. A mossy slough had grown across the green area, and we are having it scraped off every few hours. No treatment seems possible. We can sense the infection has made it into the blood. We have informed Sir Julio, and he has asked for an easy passing and a clergy member to see him and write a will for his family.
Orredes,
We continued treatment to help him pass in comfort. His eyesight had gone, but he was able to sense abnormal things. He could 'see' people moving about, the clamouring of the port, the singing of his people, and the gentle sloshing of the ocean. He passed relatively comfortably and peacefully, Eshiran guide his soul.
Taleja mentally reviewed the journal entry as Safiri spoke, noting the inconsistencies. From the first review of the notes, it appeared that this disease was what impeded their full recovery. The rapid deterioration of the host after initial success was peculiar. It was clear whatever had infected them possessed manas and resisted magical interventions by the physicians.
"In nature, parasite infection can cause a similar presentation,” she paused as she considered it further. “They often enhance or alter host behaviour," Taleja said, her tone grim. "Some can live in harmony with the host, like the tongue-eating Louse, others are more hostile, like the Cordyceps fungus. Sir Julio seemed to host the latter."
Safiri considered her words, scratching his chin. "I'm open to all ideas at this stage. No matter how unusual," he said, returning the case file to the table. "I remember studying this parasitic fungus in my texts. How does it relate to this?"
"Hypothesize this," Taleja began. "The patient's rapid recovery, except for the affected area, and heightened senses. The parasite would want the host to travel back to their home. They might have been driven towards settlements for sustenance, such as the noted increased appetite. With the host's deterioration, it could cause further contamination, infecting others before succumbing themselves." She gestured to the green slough secreted from the wounds. "That could be a contagious agent."
Safiri grimaced at the thought. "That's quite the imagination. Fortunately, Cordyceps isn't part of the local flora," he remarked, as he shook his head to rid himself of it, and moved away to pick up the wrapped bundle.
Meanwhile, Leon's lyre continued to play its sweet tones, as it miraculously healed more of the patients within the tent. As the sonic magic resonated at an ethereal frequency, as the green tint drained from the affected bodies, the ‘algae’ dissolving into green pools on the beds. Medical staff rushed in to assist the patients, supporting them away from the beds and the area, to clean them up.
Taleja tilted her head questioningly as she noticed Safiri pause at the other table, “It was a theory, and given its apparent vulnerability to sonic magic. We should consider taking up musical instruments…”
She noticed him raise his finger toward her, denoting silence. Taleja watched, puzzled, until she noticed Safiri's gaze fixed on the twitching, agitated, and shifting bundle on the table. "Is that the heart?" she asked softly, as her green eyes noticed its strange movements.
The cloth around the heart grew damp, as it appeared to flex, as it attempting to bounce, then it pounced at Safiri. The physician was unprepared as it instinctively moved to hit it back down. The bundle showed unusual kinetic strength, as it flexed again, hurling itself toward him again. He struggled as it forced him backward, grappling with it to keep it at bay. “Help!”
Reacting quickly, Taleja knocked over a small crate, spilling its contents, and prepared to use it to trap the writhing bundle.
The bundle continued to pulsate within Safiri’s hands, as the cloth began to give way, the throbbing green muscle dropping to the force as it shed the surrounding cloth.
Taleja forced the crate down on it, trapping it underneath as she held it down. She could feel the heart within slam against the walls of it.
"What was that?" Safiri exclaimed, terror in his eyes as the box thudded with movement.
Taleja’s green eyes glared with intensity at the box beneath her, before they flicked toward the physician. “Time to find out.” The woman’s sumpfkrake began to uncoil as they descended her arms to help secure the box to the floor.
“Destroy that vile thing,” Safiri expressed in great disgust.
“After,”
Safiri reluctantly accepted.
"To imagine..." Safiri's horror was palpable as he surveyed the remnants of the irradiated sample on the floor. "...that such a thing would exist," he murmured, sinking into a chair with a pained expression. "We regularly have scavengers, fishermen, even pirates visit our docks. If this thing spreads out of hand, it could cause untold destruction. Apocalyptic, even."
Taleja swiftly scooped the remains into the incinerator using a pan and brush. The tent buzzed with activity as other medical personnel worked to dispose of and destroy all potentially contaminated items. "This is one aggressive species of mana slime," she remarked, her tone grave. "It was agitated by the Lyre."
Safiri nodded grimly. "These are not new to us. Whirlpool mana slimes are common in this area. They sit passively, slowly consuming dead vegetation and animals," he explained, his gaze drifting to the incinerator. "But this? This is something entirely different."
Mentions: Tommy, Zast - @Jumbus Who knew when this was? There are plenty of rowdy pubs in Mudville, none moreso than this one: a quaint shithole - the type of place Tommy is more than familiar with. Somehow, he's gotten roped into a card game with a bunch of locals he'd honestly rather not be playing with. Blokes damn near twice his size and a record of gutting anyone who pissed them off. Yet here he is, 8 pints deep and 10 magus in the hole. He shivers slightly. Did someone leave the door open?
The only thing in his sight is the table and the fellows at the other end that he really didn't want to be on the bad side of. Tommy Kavanaugh was not a scared individual. He's rowdy, confident, and collected. But for some reason, these individuals make his skin crawl. The gnashing of teeth, the gargling of salt water and chugging of pints is a cacophony of noises that drowns out his confidence as he looks at his unrevealed hand, face down on the table.
Yet, behind him, peering over his shoulder, is an individual he swears he knows - and in some ways considers a friend - but cannot remember the name of.
The small, green hand of this friend was placed on the boy's shoulder comfortingly. His grinning face just behind the boy's line of sight and yet he somehow could perceive it regardless.
"Play your hand, Tommy." The friend encouraged him further. "You have a winning hand and, even if you lose, you can always leave the table and run. They're strong, but they don't look very fast." The goblin didn't whisper, but spoke normally such that the entire room could hear. And yet, his words fell short of the ears of bad company.
Tommy hesitated, a lump formed in his throat. He wasn't used to stakes like this before. He didn't know why he cared so much about what he'd put down and what he'd lost. Maybe he could run again? But he felt this sense of attachment to the chips that were down on this grubby table. The others seemed to eye them hungrily, as if they so craved to take them away from him. Perhaps that's why he didn't want to lose them.
But when had he grown so sentimental? They were just coins? Right?
He lifted up the hand, the table slightly sticky from spilled ale. It was a good hand. A two pair. Any smart man would bet on it. He pushed another two chips forward. He tried to turn but he couldn't, yet it still felt as if he was talking face to face with that green hand of reassurance.
"I don't wanna lose, y'know. I fuckin' hate losin'." he spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose, before exhaling and pushing more chips forward, the last of what he had as he raised once more. "I'm not scared. I c-can take 'em." he spoke, the lump still in his throat, causing him to stutter. An obvious lie. "I'm poor. I need the money." He thought of spoiling someone, of giving them a gift so they'd love him back. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, yet the room was so cold at this point he was shivering. Who'd left that damn door open?
The hand on his shoulder grew firm, giving him a sense of certainty but pressure as well. "No Tommy, no one ever needs the money. You want it and there's nothing wrong with that. Want drives us Tommy. It's the reason you sat at this table, not because you want to keep what you have, but because you want to get more."
"I know you hate losing Tommy, I do too. If you don't care about the chips on the table, you can't lose, no matter how the cards fall. Heavy pockets, weak knees."
He cracked his neck as he exhaled deeply. The others were shuffling about, moving chips across the table but his eyes were stuck on the ones that were there in front of him. His chips. In a way, the hand on his shoulder spoke the truth. He wouldn't lose if he didn't care. But, oh how he did. He'd won those chips through great trials and tribulations. They were... precious to him.
"If I lose this, it's like the rest of the wins didn't matter. What's the point of winning if you don't get to keep it?" He spoke a name, but he never heard it. "What's the point of even sittin' down? I get whatcha sayin', but if it's all for nothin', what's the point?" he slammed his hand down onto his cards. They were good cards. The best he'd gotten since his last win that had earned him his chips. He'd folded the rest, and started to play the game like everyone else. Close to the chest, afraid to risk.
And for what? Hadn't he been risking everything since he'd grown up? His teeth were chattering, as this room was so cold. Why didn't he hear the others shivering? The same noises as before. Swigs of ale, the crunching of bones and flesh beneath their vile maws. Just how long were they going to keep eating?
The friend chuckled as if speaking to a foolish, foolish man. "It's the thrill of winning and the knowledge that you have won that drives you, Tommy. You could try to sit on those winnings but the joy won't last long. Its stagnancy, the monotony, the antithesis of who we are. You could try be happy for a time, but you'll think about where you could have been. That will bring you back to the cards, but by that time the chips will have their claws in you and you will no longer be able to run."
"Gamble those chips, Tommy."
All he could perceive at this point was low, guttural chuckling. Both from the man behind him, and the several faceless horrors in front of him. How he hated it. The mockery of the powerful to the powerless. He'd lived by the philosophy - to never take less than everything from people. He'd cheated, lied, murdered, scammed, anything under the sun to get a win. But now that the prospect of that happening to him was on the table, he was shivering. Was it the cold or was it fear? Would somebody shut that fuckin' door!?
'How did I get here?'
'What did I put up?'
'Why does it matter? I've never been one to cut losses.'
He looked down at his hand again. A sinking feeling, as if he knew he’d lost. The laughter came to a close and the room got colder still. His teeth chattered together in a desperate attempt to stay warm, and he found himself hugging himself. Even with that hand on his shoulder, he felt so lonely and cold in this place.
"They're already on the table." He paused, and melancholy filled him. "I've finally gotta piece of the pie, and they're about to take it from me. Fuckin' help me, man! Aren't we friends?" he lashed out in shallow anger at the figure behind him, as if it was somehow the cazenax's fault he'd put those chips down.
The others lay their cards down on the table. The first was a two pair, the same as his but a lower suite. He'd managed to dodge that bullet. The second was a straight. The third was a flush.
How had they all been luckier than him? How had he misread? It was then, and only then, he remembered that he never once looked at their faces. He peered up, and he saw them. There was Chad. There was Juulet. And there was Riu Kai-tan. Insurmountable enemies, terrifyingly so. But, why were they in a bar in Enth, or Mudville, or wherever they were now?
He desperately clawed at the chips on the table, raking in what was his. But it was so frigid, and his hands were shaking. He couldn't let them go. But he didn't want to go either. He could barely piece them together before they began dropping on the floor. He flung himself down there, desperate to keep them to himself, to protect them from the other, hungry gamblers.
"You could've run, Tommy." The friend had a tone of disappointment in his voice. "You would have been fine if you just left the chips. A nun and an ex-mercenary: too many of those in the world to count, and yet you stayed for these ones."
"The truth is, Tommy, that this isn't the first time you've lost, not even close. You ran every time before; you had no problems then. But now you decided to stay, and because you stayed, you let it all catch up with you. You were complacent, Tommy, and now you have to face the weight of your actions."
Family
The world was often kissed by Lor’s light, but it never seemed to shine upon Barrowton. Enth was a land of clouds and rain, unloved by the gods and perhaps that was why the inhabitants didn’t quite love the gods as much as they should have. And just like any other day, it was raining.
Tommy Kavanaugh was a man who wanted to come up in the world. Fourteen years of age, and still a resident of the city, he found himself ducking through alleyways to steer clear of the sheer cold that came in the months of Somnes. It was not so much the temperature as it was the frigid winds that blew between the tall townhouses and apartments that housed so many of Barrowton’s citizens that caused this. His mother had warned him of the dangers of being wet and cold. The old baker Gregory, on Moat’s End, had been thrown out of the house one night for being too drunk, and had died of the fluid by the time the morrow came.
But he couldn’t die. He had a family to go home to, and a room to sleep in, even if he shared it with four other siblings. The Kavanaughs never seemed to move out of the nest, and he’d never known the feeling of having his own personal space save for nights like this. The streets were dark and quiet, and he’d long since learned how to hide the sounds of his footsteps, even in the squelching wet mud that filled the city when the rain came.
It was a job, after all. Some petty noblewoman's estate on Coral Lane. The lanes were nothing new to him, but these were fancier footsteps than he was used to taking. Alley to alley before he was upon his mark, and it was easy as cake. No latches, just simple reliance on a good lock. Jimmy had done the scouting prior and saw the woman's relatives visit a couple of days ago, with no sign of any higher security. He’d earned that name for that particular skill, and Tommy had learned it from the lad, which was why it was no surprise when he was in the door in 20 seconds flat.
And, immediately, a sense of emptiness hit him. Inside this room was just as cold as the outside. There was no roaring hearth as he’d come to expect in these months. Obvious places where paintings and heirlooms had been placed upon the walls were now empty, only dustmarks remained. A place where he imagined a plush carpet once sat was no longer there. The place had been cleaned out before he’d even gotten to it, but the intel had been good, from what he’d remembered.
It was as he stepped through the house, dark, empty and seldom cleaned save for the valuables that he forgot to muffle his footsteps. A giant audible creak was heard that elicited a muffled noise from another room he couldn’t quite make out. He gripped a knife on his belt and continued to survey, moving to the kitchen. He opened the drawers and even the silverware had been completely cleaned out.
‘Fucker must’ve been hungry’
Every room in the house seemed to be in the same state, and the edge from hearing that sound never left him until he settled upon the last room in the house of interest, presumably a living quarters, or some kind of repurposed office. “Toby? Have you come to visit again?” He heard the voice of an older woman muffled through the thicker stone walls of the house. Slowly, he opened the door and found a very old woman, wrapped in bundles of blankets in an old rocking chair. Even here, the room had been emptied. His heart sank immediately looking at this shivering old woman. She turned to face him, and smiled, missing many of her teeth. ”You’ve gotten thin, Toby. Should I fix you some supper?”
A whirring of the cogs inside his brain began, followed shortly by the strongest emotions he’d ever felt. He wanted to cry for the lady, to smash the wall in anger at what they’d done to her, to yell to the sky in hypocrisy about how the world was an unfair place, as if he hadn’t been planning to do the same thing. As if he wouldn’t have taken everything if it were there. But most of all, was a deep, empty pit in his stomach that had taken the place of the trust he’d given to others.
This wasn’t bad intel by Jimmy. If he’d cleared the place out, he wouldn’t have wasted time relaying it to Tommy. That’d be a way to end up with bad blood and broken kneecaps. No, the only logical explanation was… whoever this ‘Toby’ was, had already taken everything from his own family.
He sat in stunned silence as this old woman shivered in the cold, underneath all that was left, a few blankets, a wooden rocking chair and a hearth devoid of fire. He knew not her story, of whether she’d been a loving mother to her children, a loving grandmother to their descendants, a good daughter to her father or what she’d accomplished in her life. All he saw was a woman who undoubtedly loved her family, and received nothing in return.
Was this how he’d end up? He knew he wouldn’t live long given the symptoms were already starting to show, but he’d kept that a secret. At the age of thirty or so, he’d probably sound exactly like this woman who couldn’t even recognize her own grandchild from a robber. Would his family and friends do the same? Leave him in the cold and take everything he’d worked toward at this age?
The gears stopped turning as the woman coughed, reminding him of where he was. He wouldn’t end up like this woman, not if he could help it. He would spend every penny he got when he got it. What was the point of building for a future if it was taken gratuitously from your hands the moment you became unable to protect what was yours. He knelt down by the unkindled fireplace and used a touch of his magic to light the hearth and what little firewood remained inside.
It was done out of pity, but he felt a sense of disgust. Not just for the people that’d done this, but for her. They must have had a reason beyond desire for material gain. He’d stolen from plenty, deserving and not, and he’d never done so from those he’d treasured. There had to be some semblance of justification? A survival of the fittest perhaps?
”Thank you Toby. It was getting cold in here… I don’t remember where I left my flint… she mumbled to herself, shivering and tucking herself further in her blankets, her fingers red from the frigid atmosphere. Once again, Tommy’s stomach turned in knots and he felt like puking. But he resolved himself, slapping his cheeks to bring him to. Were he generous or kind, he might have left her with that sweet last memory of her darling grandson. But spite and resentment was all that filled his heart, as he turned and retorted: ”That’s cause I took it, and everythin’ else in this house. You didn’t need it anyway, right?”
And although his words held venom, the grandmotherly woman simply laughed, her chuckle eliciting a deep throaty cough that followed, probably due to bad lungs and the frigid air. “That’s a mean joke, Toby.” and he laughed in turn. It was a mean joke, after all. Tommy turned and shut the door without replying, clenching his fist in anger on the other side. He didn’t care about this woman, but his heart was filled with a desire for a vague sense of vigilante justice. The next step would be to find Toby.
The next two days were to mark his prey. He’d relayed to Jimmy that the mark had been cleared out already and he’d already bought in to help with this operation, so the pair got to work on finding out more about the situation. Information gathering about the Mistress Cossale they’d fully intended to clean out. Toby Cossale was her grandson, and had been looking to prove himself a worthy suitor for the lady Avis Faylare, a junior branch of the Maycots. They held good standing in the city given the Ashdales’ relatively fresh betrayal.
He hadn’t been sneaky about his robbery. Flaunting a gain of recent wealth was the mark of a young, arrogant noble and he’d done as much. Expensive gifts paid for with treachery, and Tommy grit his teeth in hypocrisy. Deep down, he knew why this angered him so, but he still pretended in his heart that he was going to perform this act out of some sense of honor or compassion for the woman he didn’t know the name of.
The third day came: a crisp night that the rain hadn’t taken hold of quite yet. The would-be couple went from street to street, chatting and walking. Again, an arrogance of the nobility to walk about the streets that the gangs knew so familiarly. They held pride in the fact that they had an aptitude with the Gift, but money talked, and their purses were heavy. A slight jingle to their step as Jim followed behind Tommy, an accomplice in the crime.
And although the night had been dry and the lamps of Barrowton flickered, at some point, it came pouring down. The couple ducked for cover in an alley while the lady Avis reached for an umbrella that she held on her person. That moment of distraction and hesitation was all it took for a blade to find purchase in her body. Nobles held the gift in high regard, and it was unthinkable for a commoner to possess it to a degree enough to close such a distance, but there he was, a knife plunged in her back. Jimmy had already begun moving to secure the coin pouch.
There it was, though. He’d consciously wounded a third party to secure money. This pretty noble girl with her frilly dress and braided hair turned and regarded him in horror and panic as she tried to scream, but the air had simply been taken from her lungs and all that came was a raspy final gasp before the collapse. Tommy’s hands shook slightly as he retrieved the blade, and the dark thoughts would come later.
Tobias, or Toby as he’d been known by his grandmother, reached out in panic and drew with magic of his own but the moment he’d begun to cast, a slash formed from condensed air came from the young Enthish lad. A left hand that had been reached out to cast was flung further into the alley and a scream of pain followed. A swift punch to the jaw silenced it as Tommy began to rifle through the body, blood mixing with the rain and flowing into the gutter. The two would most likely die, and he didn’t feel anything about it. But he didn’t get the joy he’d anticipated from liberating their belongings, or from delivering this vigilante justice.
The pair of commoners walked away, a bag of coin to their name each. He didn’t go and return it to that grandmother, that Lady Cossale. In fact, she died perhaps a day after her grandson, to the sheer cold. Avis died for gratuity and perhaps earned Tommy his greatest sin, a pair of potential lovers who’d never reached their potential, snuffed out for money that was gone in a matter of days.
For Tommy knew to keep his pockets light. And he taught himself to never trust or love another. A betrayal like that, coming from your own flesh and blood to an affliction all too similar to his own was enough for him to be scared of attachment and love. Why then, had he abandoned his principles so quickly when shown kindness at the school?
In the moment, perhaps too consumed by his own ideals of what the world should be like, he never considered the late Lady Avis. It crossed his mind once or twice that she was a pretty, clean looking girl but he hadn't considered anything about her. Was she like him? Did she do anything wrong, save for courting a man who he’d had a problem with? How many others had he dealt this hand of fate? But he could still remember her face, even now. That look of anguish and ‘why?’ splattered across her face. The roles could have been reversed. Perhaps she wouldn’t have responded so violently? Was it because… he wanted Toby to suffer? Or was it a spur of the moment decision. So many questions that he didn’t have answers for.
And why was he seeing this scene before his eyes now? Was it because the prophecy he saw had come around? He’d trusted, and he’d died and been left for the ravens and the rats.
Just… who was he?
Left to Rot
That question was answered by a trial of the gods. Every event in his life had been recounted in great detail, and this is what he had to show for it. He wasn’t well read in religious textbooks, but hell had always been described as fire and brimstone, filled with demons and lava and punishment. Yet, somehow, this felt crueler.
A life with no substance or meaning. Water that could never sate your thirst, no matter how much you drank. What was there to do in a place like this. He could run in the grass but there was nothing, nary a soul and the sun never seem to set, nor did it seem to rise. Night never came, In such a beautiful place, he’d never felt so empty. His brain rattled and he slept and awoke only to find himself in the same scenery, more and more parched and hungry and desperate.
And with nothing to do, or hunt, or see, there was only his memories to dwell on. He begun to remember the last images of what he’d seen. A bullet, spinning toward him at a speed he’d never comprehended, even faster than that mans punches. Had Desmond died too? Maybe so, but he doubted that guy would end up here. For all he’d probably done, he still had a true sense of goodness to him. And Laska, had she made it out? If anyone was unlikely of hell, it was probably her. Maybe they’d reunited in Eshiran’s heaven. Or maybe they’d both made it out alive.
Without him.
He’d been left alone, as foretold. Perhaps it was his destiny for them to leave him for dead. He doubted they’d host a vigil, or a funeral for him. Perhaps they’d take his belongings and sell him. Maybe somebody would do him the duty of throwing his corpse in a pit and covering it with soil so the crows didn’t feast on it, but he doubted that too. It’d all come true and it made him furious. He ripped at the soil, he blew the dandelions away and pounded his fist at trees and foliage. For how long is uncertain, but eventually, he stopped and gave up.
He didn’t know how long it’d been, but he’d begun to decay. His body had begun to rot in the open. Little pieces of flesh withering off his form. Maybe it was related to his body on the surface, probably being eaten by scavengers. Or perhaps it was rotting in the sun. He’d all but given up when he finally found other life in this place. It was hard to distinguish at a distance, and his knuckles had gone bloodied and scabbed from his prior fury, and his feet barely wanted to move. But… he saw someone in a similar state as him eat another, and begin to rejuvenate. He left as quickly as he came into eyeshot. He didn’t know if it was a test, or futile, but a hope had been re-ignited in him to try and stay existing.
Location: Zengali - Mezegol Day of the week: Victendes Time: Daytime -> Late Afternoon Characters: Zarina, Biby, Penny @Force and Fury, Rikard, Yvain @jasbraq, Taleja @Ti, Guy @dragonpiece, Keanjaho, the rowing crew.
She had to admit, being a stowaway was not as adventurous as she had imagined. Eternally would Zarina be grateful of her progress with temporal magic after pinching a nerve of the hammock she had to make due within the cargo hold. Still, it was a bonding experience with the group of dregs she was with, and of course Biby the House Hippo that seldom left the confines of her messenger bag she had organised just for him. His head occasionally popped out of the pet-opening to sniff about and yawn before retreating back inside.
On the occasions where Zarina had free time, she shot a glance at both correspondences she had been given. One was straightforward and the object of most of her pondering while the other held a more cryptic message, one surrounded by easy enigmas but ushered in moral choices she did not expect out of a mere animal control operation. Although then again, you never knew with the powers that be.
Once they had arrived, introductions were in order. Appearing a tad blasé, like she had been in a ship for a bit too long, the dishevelled Virangish raised her hand. "A pleasure, Brother. Zarina. The Water Bug Connoisseur." she tapped her own chest and then gestured to the little head that emerged from the partially opened bag like a handbag dog. "And this is Biby. No doubt a key to my success strategy." she flashed a cheeky grin with her eyes still half-lidded.
The bright light of day hit hard, prompting her to raise her hand and shield her eyes. "Busy." her barely opened eyes scrutinised the port she laid her feet upon. "And familiar." she remarked in a distinct lack of surprise as she saw the other group of students - most notably Ayla and Leon.
Before they would stray for ‘preparations’, the beastmaster turned to her group. "A few hours aren’t a lot, and we know better than to just blast the bug." she looked briefly to the side where coastal lines spanned with walls of stone and green continued on without any human interference. "First thing’s first, we’ll need a place to trap the thing that isn’t, well, here. And not in deep waters. It’s not only more dangerous in its element but we’ll have a hard time keeping it in place if we do manage to immobilise it." she rubbed her chin as she continued to muse their situation. "Someone that can be useful in that ailing camp could get information on the attack.” her attention briefly jumped toward the conspicuous pirate ship and her crew. "These less than savoury folks probably have a tale or ten to share. It wouldn’t hurt to buddy up with the sailors we’ll be working with either, if anyone’s feeling it. Especially if other interests are involved here."
Zarina looked up the cliffside to notice the lord’s home that stood out among the architectures. "It would be wise for us to make our presences known and pitch a plan to those that hired us." she chuckled before glancing at her colleagues with a smirk. Biby yawned whilst looking their way as well. "Anyone feeling like they could represent the group? Or should I have the honours?"
"We hustle, then we reconnoitre during that festival, mmkay?"
Penny realized that she was standing quite aimlessly in the midst of her evaluations. She shrugged and shook her head to clear it. "Right, well I suppose I should follow her lead," she concluded. "It's rather a walk out to that ship." With a polite nod and a smile, she took her leave. "I shall reconnoiter with you all in a handful of hours, by the large disturbingly phallic statue in the square, no?" With that, she was off.
Zarina gestured toward the pirate ship in agreement as Penny offered herself up to handle it. “If you need backup,” she peered over toward Rikard. “we can always have the titan killer himself, Rikard, stay nearby.” she winked his way, recalling the visions of him slaying grand demons and taking on Tojarra himself. A free electron, to be sure, but an effective one.
Her head then shifted to the other side with Yvain being suggested for the meet. “Ah.” the Virangish crossed her arms while Biby's head poked out. “Right.” her scowl wasn't stifled whatsoever, her disdain very clear from the mere aura she projected. “Do you think yourself capable of speaking for us, Berbignon?” she nudged her chin to expectation of a response.
“Well, then again, risking that boat suddenly exploding would be a pretty bad start anyway.”
Yvain felt the utter disdain of the Virangish woman fall upon him. Multiple different responses ran through his mind, running from How dare this merchant scowl at me? to a apology. With a heavy sigh, he tried to wash the filthy disdain from his mind. "I will speak in the interest of the Sovereign pact." He scoffed. Looking at Zarina with his signature shit-eating grin he nearly lost. "But back to the question of being capability."
His grin turned to a sour expression. "There is a high chance your friends are your opponents in this task, so to let me ask you this.. . . Will you let that cloud your judgement? Will you work in the interest of Virang and the Sovereign pact as a whole?"
Zarina cocked a brow and studied Yvain's demeanour briefly. A challenging look soon clashed with his. “I'll get the job done right. Preferably with most of us alive.” she answered, arms crossed and posture adamant. “So we got a speaker for us. Then I'll go check on that boat and the coast. Hells, I'll see if I can scout out the hot zone, even.
Yvain clapped his hands together and smiled. "I'm glad we are on the same page here. I'd rather not get violent with the others either." He tried to picture the Virangish with a smile as well but all he could picture is disdain and annoyance. "I am not your enemy, miss Al-Nader. If you need assistance, I shall offer my help."
As Zarina made it to the rowboat, she was greeted with the sight of many strongmen loading the last crates of supplies on a rowboat. All of them seemed friendly, nothing but smiles and they ended up directing her to the captain of this small voyage. A tall, rotund man dressed in beautiful clothing and jewellery.
He was smoking a pipe and seemed generally jolly. He was staring at the sea with childlike amusement of his little journey. One of the men called out that they had a fine looking guest. He bounded over, tripping over some oars to eventually get to his new shipmate.
"Hello! Welcome! Salutation young lady, what can Keanjaho do for you today?"
An airborne Zarina descended with considerable meticulousness onto the small empty space she could find on the rowboat. Even after over a year of practice, tight landings were always tricky it seemed as her arrival came with a light rocking of the vessel.
“Salam brothers and sir Kee-nej-ajo.” she waved in their general direction and nodded curtly. “My name is Zarina, and I’m studying local wildlife.” she flashed a reassuring smile at all of them while Biby eyed the unknown factors from the hole in the bag. “And according to my findings, you lot are rowing into dangerous waters. Very dangerous. May I ask why?”
"A pleasure to meet you! You look Virangish no? I have many friends from Virang," he waved over to one of the men to bring some stuff over, somewhat listening making small gestures to make sure Zarina knew he was. A table was whisked in and 2 drinks of tea made.
"Your studying local wildlife? Their are some beautiful birds that roost in the cliffs. Truly a rainbow of variety-" his mind jumped from one spot in the conversation to another. "Ah! Yes, yes, the thresher. I am well aware of Miss Zarina," a momentary pause took place where he seemed to contemplate what he was doing but then a big smile appeared on his face. "But there must be some one to help scout out the day before and we are the best rowers in all of Zengali!" Keanjaho waved his glass around to his men and they let out a cheer.
“Well well, you came prepared.” chuckled an amused Zarina, opting to not sit but accepted the tea as a gesture of politeness. Still, as taught by her betters, she had a brief chemical cleansing of the stuff before indulging at the peril of its flavour. “Gandakar, actually. You must've met a few friends. Mustafa Derari ring a bell?” she tilted her head expectantly before moving on to the more pressing point.
“Ah, well, that's precisely what I came to study.” the tall girl held the cup with both hands as she briefly pondered how to formulate her approach. “I'm here to investigate and research the causes for the Bluewater Behemoth's unusual behaviour, and help stop it if I can.” and with that, she smirked. “Looks like I've found the right people. Would you accept a coastal city girl as a plus one?”
"Well of course," Keanjaho laughed and was just about to start a story before sitting in to listen to Zarina's request. He set his tea down with much more purpose. The friendly smile was still there but his eyes carried more weight to them. He judged her with the eyes of a merchant, weighing the value in her addition versus the risk of her loss as a fighter tomorrow.
"I can accept on 3 conditions, miss Zarina. One, you must pull your weight and be an active member in the voyage," he stuck up his thumb. "Two, you must, if able, secure your own life if the need comes. I won't have a young soul like yourself in my guilt," He put up is index finger. "And third-" Keanjaho expression became light again, "Share a drink with me and crew before we set off! It's only tradition, no?"
“Naturally.” Zarina grinned as her feet levitated off the group, literally carrying her own weight.
“Of course.” she landed back down and crossed her arms. Biby had since poked his head out to yawn.
“Hmmm.” the Virangish hesitated on the last one, with her right hand rising up to rub her chin. “If it isn't some Tettari piss water, then count me in.”
Keanjaho stood up the good ole fashion way after Zarina agreed to his stipulations. "This is nothing like Tettari piss water, I can assure you!" he said proudly, "This is a family recipe that people have been drinking in Zengali for generations at this point. Let me go make it." Keanjaho headed off to prepare the tonic.
In the meantime, some of the crew introduced themselves as they waited for the drink as well. They were a relatively friendly group who didn't speak Avincian well but enough to get by. One of the larger men, truly massive in frame and muscle, gave Zarina a warning, "Plug your nose before you drink it." Other than bickering, some said it wasn't that bad, some said it was that bad. None said it was good.
Soon ten full cups of thick yellow drink came out. Swishing it in the cup gave off a pungent spell of lentils, spices, and the twang of fermentation. It was just a bit thicker than ayran and it didn't look appetizing at first glance.
Keanjaho rose a glass, "To us and safe voyage even if it may be a short one. May the gods protect out souls and this drink strengthen our hearts." With that the entire crew began to chug it down quickly. The large man from earlier was choking it down like it was the worst thing in the world.
The warnings met with shows of confidence and dismissive chuckles. In truth, the prospect of slurping something absolutely rancid prompted a visceral reaction from Zarina. Already she was planning a way to dull out her senses. And yet ...
As she saw the piss-coloured 'delight', she pursed her lips and stared at it for a moment. “To safe voyages ...” she spoke with a distinct lack of enthusiasm that was easy to recognize, so much so that she even realized it. In an attempt to correct her landing, she employed a deeper and louder voice. “And the end of that white blight!” and with that, she chugged the stuff like a madwoman.
The first gulp was led with a delicate salt flavor that gave way to a high of warm floral flavors. As you got through the cup, more subtle flavors became apparent. Things like cinnamon, cumin, cardamon, coriander, and a hint of fennel became more noticeable.
Finally the main flavor took form, this fermented earthy notes of the lentils developed on the tongue. Bringing the with it a slight hint of smoke that came only at the final sip. As an experience, it was wholly unique in the way of its development. It had the flavors you would associate more with meats and fish but it played with the fermented lentils quite well. Too heavy and spice forward to have as daily refreshment but quite good for your last warmth on a perilous journey. You did feel it in your stomach though.
The fact the taste was not only quite mild compared to what she had imagined but also familiar to some degree had Zarina worried. Was the aftertaste going to be terrible? Was it going to linger like a Virangish Pepper? Ultimately, none of her fears were realized, leading to a somewhat anticlimactic, if not welcomed outcome. “Huh.” Zarina cocked her brows and observed the empty glass before her. “Honestly, not too bad.” she gave a thumbs up, even if her stomach wasn't so sure about giving out so much positivity. She could feel the gurgles coming already.
It had been a few hours since they had left the high activity wharf and daylight was slowly sinking into an orange-tinged dusk, although they still had time before it got dark. It did leave Zarina wondering just what was the plan once they had their recon? Each time she alluded to it, they reassured her it was typical work and the fjord held no secrets to them. Not exactly reassuring, but the temporal factor she kept close to the chest pacified her somewhat.
Her heart went out to this crew, however, who had little recourse if something happened. Clearly this mission was urgent given the lack of resources other than a conspicuous journal Keanjaho wrote every detail into. Zarina did the same, only mentally with Biby occasionally emerging for some pats and hand feedings to distract her.
The house hippo wasn’t the only distraction, but it was definitely a magnet for more attention going her way. If the crew wasn’t already intrigued by the presence of a random ‘scholarly’ girl among them, the bright coloured critter did the trick. The hours were decorated with pleasant exchanges and joy.
Djembe had recently had his third daughter and couldn’t stop boasting about her supposed attunement to the ocean.
Kilik was a crass older man always seeking to make light of everything. Vulgar but clever, and was the one to veil the true risks of the expedition.
Ade was the youngest of the crew and often the butt of jokes. Barely Zarina’s age and definitely more reserved, if not a good sport about it all.
Daoud always had a story to tell, making him the most consistent voice they’d hear during the trip. He was also clearly making half of the things up.
Hami didn’t speak a whole lot, but when a good joke was cracked, he had the heartiest of laughs.
Jabali was the very large and muscular of the bunch, and quite the sweetheart too.
And finally there was Penda, the first mate to Keanjaho. He took his job very seriously and hardly smiled. It seemed he was all too aware of what was going on.
“That cove.” the Virangish plus one pointed at an isolated opening by a large cliffside. “It looks just shallow enough for us to work with. You got a map?”
"Of course, what captain would I be if I said no?" the jolly man tugged one of the many scrolls he had in his sack - a spare and virgin map he so graciously gave to his guest. Zarina accepted with both her careful hands.
“Gracias.” she said.
"De nada." he replied.
It Came from the Depths
Soon enough, they had reached the floating graveyards of the recent attacks. Wooden and human remains were being dragged by the currents but many stagnated still near the site of disaster. With the use of flight, Zarina scouted out while the boat remained at a relatively safe distance.
Dismembered ships just as much as torn apart people. It was a horrid sight to be sure, and she could only imagine just how wicked the depths truly looked. Corpses that had hit the nearby shores were riddled with crabs and other seaborne parasites feasting on their bloated carcass. It was there that Zarina realized just how dire of a situation this was - as dire as that demon from An Zenui. This thing was but a source of misery and had to be stopped.
As she returned toward the ship, she noticed one unusual detail: Foam. It resembled seaweed foam at first, but as she drifted closer, the consistency did not match up. Nor did any sort of sensing reveal an abnormality. And yet the peculiar spread of clustered foam near the coast but also around the attack site left the teen at a loss. As a coastal girl, she knew they didn’t cluster like this. With a portable cup she used for her coffee, which she selflessly sacrificed the remains of her caffeine boost for the cause, scooped a few samples before sealing it away.
“Hmmm.” Zarina pondered as she returned. “Isn’t that smell familiar?” she peered down at a clueless Biby as if she expected an answer. “Just at the tip of my tongue …”
She arrived on the ship with the captain still dutifully scribbling everything he saw. “You find it weird too?” she asked as her feet hit the wooden surface. "That foam isn’t from any sea I’ve voyaged through, Lady Zarina." he didn’t seem to jolly as he turned to face her. "The smell reminds me of a bar somehow." Zarina flinched. “A bar, really?” for a moment, they both pondered.
"Of course!" the big man clapped his hands. "It’s the-"
Then, they felt it. It was unmistakable. It was gargantuan. It was coming.
Only eyes spoke at this moment. Zarina quickly sealed her bag to protect the hippo and the crew quickly manned their positions. There were no more merry demeanours, only cold hard professionalism.
"Penda, zhue-" a massive wave erupted from right under the ship, splitting a third of it away instantly and leaving the other two-thirds to capsize. Those at the front had no chance, and those at the back all met the sea. Someone was impaled by a piece of plank, another had been dragged in by that thing.
Zarina desperately reached out for the nearest two people she could with barely any control over the massive kinetic forces driving the currents. One man was hurled into her, while another had barely caught her hand. Keanjaho, however, had taken too much time to secure his diary and missed Zarina’s other hand by a second before another crash from the beast’s claw separated them. With that, the student had vanished with her rescued duo.
One second they were in the hands of death, the next they were among the rubble at the coast. When Zarina rubbed the salt water off her eyes, she realised she had saved both Daoud and Kilik, the latter without a scratch and the former with a few wood splinters dug into his leg and arm.
They could see the carnage unfold. A mass of foamy waves as white as the claws that clobbered them. The water had turned red with screams of the survivors left behind reaching them.
“Hold this.” ordered Zarina as she passed her bag to Kilik.
”Don’t go girl, it’s suicide!” pleaded Kilik as her caught the bag.
”Let it go, you can’t change her mind.” a pained Daoud spoke up and gestured toward Zarina’s resolute eyes. ”She got that look the captain had.”
With that, she zipped into the fray once more. Most were dead or drowning after losing consciousness. The red fog made it so much worse, but-
“Captain!” she called out as she sensed a familiar form. However, it was within the murky waters, and alive! She dove, only to witness it.
Unbelievably large, pale as a ghost meshed with the blood of its victims, and burning with an unnatural rage. The mere sight gave her vertigo. Almost enough to let her just drift away in utter horror. She had forgotten to breathe, and had it not been of Keanjaho’s kinetic strike on her cheek, she may have become perfect bait for the creature. Shaken out of her daze, she frantically reached for the captain.
They were so close, doing their best to fight off the currents and influences of the Thresher’s magics.
They were so close, with Keanjaho’s advanced channelling enabling feats she didn’t think possible.
They were so close that she could just touch the man’s hand, the one holding the bag with the diary. That was it! All she needed was a strong grip. One more second.
That second passed and she finally dug her nails into that wrist. And in a tenth of that wait, she had disappeared back onto the shore.
A panting Zarina was found fifty metres away from the two she had saved. On all fours and her hand clutching that hand she had held onto for dear life. The bag the captain risked everything for lied before her, wet but in one piece. Along with that single piece of Keanjaho she could save - all up to the elbow.
Upon acknowledging the ghoulish sight with the carnage nearing its end in the background, she found her vision beginning to blur. And as the two shipmates arrived, they found her lying down, face half in the water, and with a mango-sized hold on her flank, where the spleen would be.
As her vision faded, she recalled every single one of these men that had been sacrificed.
Djembe, killed nearly in an instant by a wooden plank through the chest.
Ade was taken in by the current and subsequently devoured by the beast. He could not scream in agony when buried in the sea water.
Hami was at the front and fell unconscious immediately. He subsequently drowned in the deep depths.
Jabali fought the current and thrashing beast with all her could, but found himself impaled by a massive spike, only to be then discarded into two split pieces.
Penda was instantly obliterated when the claw shattered the boat, creating a red that painted the battlefield.
And of course, Keanjaho. Sank with his ship and fought to the bitter end until he was indistinguishable from the rest of the ocean he had devoted his life to.
Ayla politely advised the messengers that they had the wrong person as she made her way to speak to the Marquis. Sometimes, they should shove the missives in her hand before she was able to advise them, and thus, did her duty to check its contents for who they were addressed to before handing them back. Even though she wasn’t able to glean all the details, she was starting to form a picture of who were people of interest.
As she approached the table where everyone was working, she was stopped by a guard before she reached the Marquis. She politely bowed her head in respect of his duty. “Our name is Ayla Arslan, we come representing Students from Thaumaturgy Academy at Ersand’Enise in providing support. We are here to make our introductions.” She smiled warmly towards the guard, simply doing their job, and hoped encouragingly that they would allow her to approach.
The guard questions the young girl at first, this is the first time he has head of Ersand'Ernise taking part in this hunt. "I ask that you stay here as we check if they are ready for your visit," the guard politefully asked but it was obvious a command. One of the other guards went to the advisor closest to the Marquis and after a few moments, the advisor waved for the guard to let the woman through.
"Thank you for your patience Lady Arslan," the guard steps to the side and gives the full path for Ayla to walk.
Upon approaching their table, some of the advisors close to the Marquis Dume stopped their work to watch the introductions. The ones at the end of the table though had to keep writing though they showed some acknowledgment of her with a brief head nod. The advisor that gave permission raises a hand to tell her to stop at a certain distance from the Marquis and then signals her to make her introductions. She has the Marquis's full attention and he doesn't look very pleased with her presence.
Ayla moved before the Marquis and curtsied before him in the appropriate manner. “Thank you for welcoming us during this turbulent time. Please accept our condolences for the blight affecting your people. Us students from Ersand’Enise couldn’t help but be moved to provide aid to this just cause.” She gestured towards the port below, referencing her colleagues. “Many of us have arrived from across the twin continents, eager to assist, and have already begun to provide their skills in your people's aid.”
“Are you and the other students merely here providing aid at the port or will you take sail with us against the beast?” Dume looked at the girl up and down, questioning why a child had come to speak with him.
Ayla smiled politely at the Marquis. “We will endeavour to fully support the removal of this creature from your list of priorities,” she said, allowing for a pause, “and assist with lessening others as well.” She gestured towards the port. “Your home currently has many guests, and as a gracious host, you have to contend with many interests and political considerations that arrive at your doorstep. The thing about us students is that we are promising individuals, mostly from noble families across the twin continents. Some nations are aligned with the Sovereign Pact, from a Central Alliance nation like myself, or aligned with neither.”
Her smile was sweet. “We are available to support you in dealing with this threat and further concerns you may have.”
Dume's initial thoughts of a child quickly changed when said child had much to say of his worries “I am well aware of my worries Lady Arslan, child of Torragon, and am more than capable of handling them. But thank you for the offer.” His face grew stiff when speaking to her, no longer seeing her as a child just making the rounds but the same as others with an agenda.
"You say that you come representing the students and that you'll help in various ways. Do you speak for all the students here?” Dume asked her.
Ayla bowed her head respectfully. “We recognize your skill in handling this difficult matter and hope to learn from your example. We come as a resource, and we will seek to demonstrate our value to you in the trial ahead.”
She listened to the question asked and smiled. “There may be others who have arrived, and we look forward to working with them. We share a common goal and an intention for there to be hope. Hope in dealing with this threat and a brighter day for your city and its courageous people.”
He had been held up, briefly, by the guards outside, but then they had recognized their social better and ushered him through. There were many men of importance gathered, and others of little. There came flowery words from Ayla, as well, that took up quite a bit of space without meaning very much. The Perrenchman certainly nurtured no grudge against her, but it reminded him of the vipers trying to elevate themselves through their social better. His goal was plain and his time spent listening outside had given him more or less the measure of his quarry. His footsteps sounded on the marble floor. A rapier hung at his hip. He came to a stop with a smart clack of his heels.
"Marquis de Zengali." The young man nodded in his host's direction, polite and businesslike, but did not bow. It was not proper for the son of a duke and *prince du sang* to do so before a mere marquis. "Lady Arslan." In any event, the Mezegolan did not seem much preoccupied with formalities.
"I am Yvain de Berbignon, and I so happen to represent those 'others' who my lady anticipates working with." He smiled agreeably, but his bearing remained intense. "We have come here, on behalf of Perrence and her allies Belzagg, Eskand, and..." He more or less smothered his grimace through his smile.. "the other one, to help you slay a beast and to ensure that no others follow in its wake. We are - all of us - capable thaumaturges who come prepared for a fight. We shall not require much but your consent and any resources you may see fit to bestow upon our effort." Left unsaid was the rest: I trust this is agreeable.
The Marquis had grown tiresome of this conversation with Lady Arslan. Double speaking and now he might have Ersand'Ernise solo actors in their port. He even ends up questioning if his own son sent word to a contact in Ersand'Ernise. But none of that mattered, the Marquis decided that he would cast Ersand'Ernise outside his port.
But first was tall gentleman, Sir Yvain de Berbignon. He came with purpose and clarity unlike the Lady standing before him. The Marquis was much more attentive to Yvain. It was like a breath of fresh air that tells you that the eggs had gone rotten.
"Well your service will be much appreciated," the Marquis silently gave a nod to Yvain.
"Your presence is permitted, of course,-" the Marquis gave a subtle glare at Ayla, "And as such, your group will be rewarded a case of mana shots for tomorrows hunt." The Marquis lips curled into a small smile, smiling didn't fit his face.
He turned to Ayla, "Lady Ayla," his voice grew serious, "Anything you have to say?" he looked at her expectantly.
Ayla noted Yvain's presence as he entered the discussion and politely bowed her head in his direction. She had hoped to aspire to something better and greater in their meeting, aiming to create a united front with her fellow students from both factions and beyond. However, it became clear that such an aspect was unexpectedly threatening to the Marquis. As the adage goes, ‘better the enemy you know.’ The idea of a third party, no matter how benevolent or well-meaning, was seen as an unknown.
She sighed softly, especially as Yvain distinctly presented himself as part of the Sovereign Pact. This clearly identified her as being aligned with the Central Alliance, contrary to her intention. "We are all here to assist in this endeavour, regardless of factional lines. We represent students from Ersand’Enise, primarily from the Central Alliance nations, as our colleague next to us has stated. Your consent and any available resources or information you can offer would be greatly appreciated to allow us to operate effectively in dealing with this issue."
The Marquis weighed his judgement. She obscured herself as a neutral when she wasn't. Whether that was a lie, delusion, or genuine hope weighed on his mind. The Marquis was unashamed taking a minute or so of time to conclude his thoughts on Lady Arslan.
"The Central Alliance has done much to help hasten our readiness for tomorrow, and for a group representing a talented addition to their ranks, I thank you for coming. As such, I welcome you to Zengali, Lady Arslan. My aid will share with you the details and sleeping arrangements for tonight." Marquis Dume's kind words were laced with pity for the girl. One of the aids pulled out a scroll for Ayla and escorts her out of the Marquis's home.
Once at the gate, the aid gave Ayla a fair reporting of what they know of the beast. Around 34 alds long and it has attacked much earlier this year. The ferocity of its attacks are abnormally fierce but the resistance Zengali is putting this year is even more so. As for special resources, most have already been allocated, however there might still be some by night's end. He pulled from his satchel a small tablet of bronzed metal. Intricately designed with a symbol and some mezegolan words on it, similar to belzaggic. "This should act as prove for your party that you are allowed to receive special resources if available." He does a quick bow to Ayla and returns to his post.
As the Cazenax finished scurrying up the side of the Blue Adam, he flopped onto the deck with the grace of a man stumbling on a couple of wines and gasped for air. He looked upward only to find his stubby snout graced with the kiss of a flintlock.
"Fancy seein’ your mug here, you greasy little nutsack." Zast looked up to see a blonde pretty-boy pointing the gun. With such a well-maintained hairdo and billowy shirt amid a fight, the Cazenax thought the man had a higher chance of trying to take him to bed than actually shooting him. But that wasn't exclusive to this one, it was the same thing for most Yasoi playing pirates. "Remember me?"
Around the ship, all the other pirates seem occupied with the present battle and while a few paid the exchange a passing glance, it was a one-on-one. Zast stood up straight to his impressive height less than half that of the blonde and watched the flintlock get clutched just a little tighter. Zast squinted trying to see if the Yasoi's face would spark any bells in the recesses of his booze-addled memories.
"Anthal!" Zast smiled dubiously in the vague memory he screwed him over a few years back. "I barely recognized ya there. Boy, how you’ve grow-"
”We’re the same age.” Anthal interrupted as he levelled the gun further into the goblin’s forehead. "I never got the chance to get you back for taking my money and leaving me for dead. So, you have the coin to cover my payback?”
Zast chuckled awkwardly. Didn’t seem like there was much getting around of this one. "Well I can’t say I have it on me. But if you ask a certain bartender in Belzagg, I’m sure he’ll give you a couple‘a almonds under the table if you ask nicely." He grinned, at least he could go out on a classy note.
"Hold it, Junior." The captain, who Zast knew to be John Adam, had finally paid the exchange some mind and saved him from a bullet to the head. "Leave this one to me."
Anthal, with some hesitation, released the flintlock and stepped back looking annoyed. Zast smiled at him, trying to get a rise out of the Yasoi but it was to no success.
Anthal'alan'tormiiyei, or John Adam as recognized by Zast, was an upgraded blueprint of his son. With age and experience lining his features, he exuded confidence and even smiled down his nose at the Cazenax. It was a strangely positive reception given the circumstances Although Zast supposed the main difference there was he hadn’t rinsed this man of every cent like his son.
"Cazenax, I can see you dress like us, you steal like us, do you consider yourself a pirate?" His voice carried an air of high purpose and morals, Zast loved those kinds of people. "I believe that these waters, like any other seas, belong to no one but those who can take it. Perhaps you see the world as I do?"
"Cawuio-Zast." He introduced himself and took a cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it as if it had never seen water. "We’re in the same trade, Mr Adam. The seas, no, nothing on this earth can be owned by a person. The world should belong to the free and that’s that."
The captain didn’t respond to ‘Mr Adam’ too kindly but overlooked it. He knelt to get eye level with the Cazenax but was looking down at him. "Then we are allies in this fight. Across the waters, the Virangish seek to steal from the wreck while hiding behind a false sense of legality." He spat on the ground. "At least we’ll be the honest ones on the seas."
"Help us and we’ll share the loot. Deal?"
"Deal."
Zast received a blue scarf from the captain so that the crew would recognise him as an ally. He wrapped the scarf around his head as a bandana.
Sanette, a young tethered woman, called the captain over with a sense of urgency. A look of worry painted her, but Zast couldn’t stay to listen in.
It was time to get to work on the ship.
"I’m here as a representative of Ersand’Enise!" Zast announced. "The school is giving you all their full support and as such I have a present here, courtesy of High Zeno Silvestri." The Cazenax placed his jacket on the deck, then swiped it up to reveal an entire gunpowder barrel and a stack of cannonballs. This fight would not end under Zast’s watch.
The captain heard this announcement and shot the little green charlatan a wry smile. Sure, this Cawuio-Zast figure was a liar. But that didn’t matter right now. He could spout mistruths until the sun broke. He was useful as long as he believed in the cause and supplied munitions toward it.
Raffie’s attempts to bring caution to the Virangish ship by name-dropping Ren caused a bit of hesitation among some of the sailors. But when the first volley of cannon fire hit the Altın Oğul it rocked with the sounds of shattered wood. It was a powerful and unforgiving hit that saw a couple of sailors falling off the side only to be devoured by threshers. The name Ren Baykara had caused some hesitation, but they didn’t hesitate after that. The pirates weren’t going to stop at that name and if they were to stop, then there wouldn’t be a ship left for the famed Virang noble to board.
Once he was on board, Ren’s warning to the pirates also fell on deaf ears. Across the way, he could see the scoundrels loading up for a second volley. The engagement had not been kind to the Virangish flagship and a couple of kinetic mages on the other side of the conflict had seen the Blue Adam taking far less damage. The backup and coordination from the other pirate ships had seen the Virangish fleet no longer having the numbers advantage. To make things worse, all on board the Altın Oğul could feel a slow and steady decline. The ship was sinking after the first volley, but this didn’t mean a concluded battle yet.
"Binders! Get below deck and get us floating again." Metin Çelik, Captain of the Altın Oğul, barked orders while making his way toward the students. After such an unfavourable exchange, some sailors paid the captain some glances expecting the order for a disengagement. The binders were effective but not world-class by any means, they would need time to repair the hull and get the water out. This would be time they wouldn’t have if they were to suffer another volley from the Blue Adam. But no order of retreat came, instead they were called to prepare another volley. The first and second mates carried out the orders.
Even with a lack of experience in naval warfare, Raffie could see that this conflict was going to get ugly. Scanning the waters, she could see that most of the other students had gotten out of the way and were heading toward the shore of Pelolia. Looking back toward Ren, it didn’t seem as though he had taken any notice of this.
"What the hell are you doing!?" Balik reprimanded a young sailor while holding him by the collar. The swabbie seemed pale and stumbled over himself, he was too inexperienced to be useful in a fight like this and it showed. Balik sighed and pointed toward Raffie. "Tend to the pink one and stay out of the way."
It may have been anyone’s first inclination to take a girl like Raffie to safety. But with such a magnificent display, she had shown herself capable beyond what first impressions would dictate. The swabbie approached and gave her a salute (where one was not required). "Anything you need, ma'am?" The boy looked only a little older than her but was generally unimpressive. He likely wasn’t a mage and this was likely his first time seeing any conflict at all. Even Raffie could deduce that he was at the bottom of the totem pole on this ship.
"Ren Baykara." The captain shook the noble’s hand. "Seems Vashdal has brought us favour in this fight. I was a guest at your plantations in Palapar a couple of years back. If you are even half as impressive of a mage as you are in your work, I couldn’t imagine someone I would want more at our backs. Shall we send these pyrate dogs to the depths?"
Ren didn’t need abundant knowledge of naval conflicts to know the situation. He only needed to know people and the captain told the exact direction of this fight. Honest eyes betrayed the lies he wished to tell Ren and himself.
The captain had spoken in a way that Ren knew intimately well. It was the final burst of pride in a man gave before he submitted to the leash. A moment where the mind could see a situation for what it is and recognise inevitable defeat, but the heart could simply not allow it.
The difference, of course, is that this man was a brave son of Virang and would never see a collar. Instead, a loss to simple pirates would result in the disgrace of a well-distinguished military career. But they made for similar looks indeed. Ren could deduce that the captain had foreseen a losing battle before the noble's arrival and doubted their chances still with Ren present. What a disappointing lack of faith.
- Raffie has the chance to flee toward the other students and join them if she wishes. This will not be a kind battle and she can see that. See also has the choice of whether or not to tell Ren about where the other students are heading.
The cannons still roared in the distance as a second volley fired. The sounds echoed over the water as they reached the islands of Pelolia to the west. While some of the cannonballs strayed dangerously close before harmlessly splashing into the water, the students of Ersand’Enise were safe for the time being. At least from the battle they had landed in.
Now that the other pirate ships had caught up with the Blue Adam, it had become an all-out war a short distance from the wreck. Maura’s calls for Zast to negotiate the pirate’s withdrawal had fallen on deaf ears. Whether or not the Cazenax had even communicated such a message was a guessing game. The ships of the Royal Asper Salvage Co. had certainly shown no sign of retreat either. In the absence of diplomacy, the conflict had blossomed and it looked as though it was going to get worse before it got better. Much worse.
Those more focused on the waters would notice that the Nikanese and Tarlonese ships were ready some distance away. They didn’t draw closer to the conflict but maintained their distance. They hovered like vultures waiting to pick at the bones left behind.
The students were not alone on the island. Along the shoreline, wakas lay on the beach, each big enough to hold roughly 20 people. Ship upon ship built with sturdy wood, twin sails unfurled, and the odd cannon mounted awkwardly to a vessel not designed to accommodate one. This did not appear to be a league of fishing ships. It was a naval force big enough to dwarf any other in the current conflict and only a few meters push away from the water. And yet they sat there, unattended and passive, apathetic to the nearby turmoil.
The sounds of not-so-distant conversation whisked their way through the sparse jungle line and the flicker of firelight could just be seen peering out between the gaps.
Mahal had taken the initiative and was the first to go further in from the shore. However, it was only a moment into the endeavour that she noticed she was being watched. A young girl wearing clothing native to the region was peeking out at her from behind a tree. The two locked eyes for only a second before the girl took off running toward the campfires beyond.
Whether Mahal decided to follow the girl, remain where she was, or go back to the group, it didn’t take long before a fighting force came back from the same direction to confront her. They drove her back to the shore where they found the rest of the students.
A young man stood at the head of the Moata Suva warriors. He was handsome and likely only a few years older than most of the students. Although he carried himself like a practised warrior, there was an equal display of a boy puffing out his chest to appear more formidable, unlike the older warriors at his call. They looked surprised to see a group so young in front of them.
"You don’t strike me as pirates. Who are you and what are you doing here?" While the group of warriors didn’t look hostile, they were prepared for a fight if one were to break out.
The students of Ersand’Enise were able to communicate their position in the conflict and diffuse the situation. At the end of their explanation, the warriors were more disarmed and open to negotiation.
"Students of Ersand’Enise…" The young man considered the situation. "My name is Tamatoa, Prince of Moatu Suva." He made a far friendlier introduction than before. "My father has made camp not too far from here. If you have interest in the wreck, I would ask that some of you join us first and share words with him." It was a friendly invite, although no one got the impression they were being given the option to decline.
The prince was an unseasoned diplomat and wasn’t able to hide a frown when he spotted Kaureerah. "I will have to insist that the Eeaiko comes with us as well." He spoke with a notably less friendly tone.
Before leaving, he gestured toward the Maura’s crates and the beginnings of the submarine with a curious look. "Whatever you’ve got building here, it doesn’t look good. I would ask that you put it together behind the treeline. Otherwise, it could cause problems for both of us if someone out there were to spot it."
Prince Tamatoa and his entourage lead the students through to the camp he mentioned. With some cultural variations, most could recognise this as a military encampment. Most of them were warriors, some looked to be workers who maintained the camp such as cooks, and a sparse number of women and children looked to be neither.
Much like the boats though, the people seem battle-ready in everything but action. At present, they were sitting on the ground around the numerous bonfires and eating dinner. Some told jokes to each other, some focused on their meal, and only a few of the younger warriors seemed to be anticipating a conflict with some excitement. The cannon fire exchange between the pirates and Virangish ships could still be heard from here, even over the commotion. One could only conclude that they were waiting on something else before they acted, they weren’t expecting it soon but were ready for it, whatever it may be.
At the head of the camp, King Kaleo III was not hard to miss. He and his family were only slightly elevated from the rest of the camp by a short wooden stage, but his mountainous form had him a head above most others. He seemed to be in a good mood, talking among the other decorated warriors at his fire. Next to him sat Queen Kanani, who didn’t look to be a warrior but kept up in equal parts with her husband in conversation. Beside her sat Princess Leilani who seemed to shy away from it all. And finally, the young girl whom Mahal had seen earlier was Princess Tiare. She sat on the other side of her father but carried a level of excitement that could see her shoot away again at any second.
Walking through the camp, Kaureerah would pick up on a few glances going her way. Could they be looks of suspicion? Hostility? It was difficult to tell. But it didn’t make her feel welcome, even if the group was being given the courtesy of a prince’s escort.
- Some students will need to hold an audience with the king. This doesn’t need to be all the students. Kaureerah, while not being strong-armed, is not being given much choice unless she puts up significant resistance.
- If you wish to use it, the submarine will still need to be put together. This will be under the watch of some guards who won’t allow it to see the water unless King Kaleo allows it.
- You may overhear some of the younger warriors, joined by Prince Tamatoa, talking about the wreck. They seem to be excited for a fight and annoyed at sitting around.
By the end of this cycle, the group ideally would have formed a plan and will be at the start of executing on it.
Afterword
The running of this mission has been handed over to me from Force. I would like to address two things:
1 I have approximately zero knowledge of maritime history or combat. The initial post had a lot of detailed and considered descriptions of ship combat. I will not be able to do this.
2 This is my first time running a mission. While I have Foodie more or less advising me on things, I am the captain of this ship and it may not be the smoothest ride as a result.
For the above reasons, I ask for some degree of patience and leeway as I may make mistakes. Let's have fun with this mission and see it to a good conclusion!
He had been held up, briefly, by the guards outside, but then they had recognized their social better and ushered him through. There were many men of importance gathered, and others of little. There came flowery words from Ayla, as well, that took up quite a bit of space without meaning very much. The Perrenchman certainly nurtured no grudge against her, but it reminded him of the vipers trying to elevate themselves through their social better. His goal was plain and his time spent listening outside had given him more or less the measure of his quarry. His footsteps sounded on the marble floor. A rapier hung at his hip. He came to a stop with a smart clack of his heels.
"Marquis de Zengali." The young man nodded in his host's direction, polite and businesslike, but did not bow. It was not proper for the son of a duke and *prince du sang* to do so before a mere marquis. "Lady Arslan." In any event, the Mezegolan did not seem much preoccupied with formalities.
"I am Yvain de Berbignon, and I so happen to represent those 'others' who my lady anticipates working with." He smiled agreeably, but his bearing remained intense. "We have come here, on behalf of Perrence and her allies Belzagg, Eskand, and..." He more or less smothered his grimace through his smile.. "the other one, to help you slay a beast and to ensure that no others follow in its wake. We are - all of us - capable thaumaturges who come prepared for a fight. We shall not require much but your consent and any resources you may see fit to bestow upon our effort." Left unsaid was the rest: I trust this is agreeable.
The Marquis had grown tiresome of this conversation with Lady Arslan. Double speaking and now he might have Ersand'Ernise solo actors in their port. He even ends up questioning if his own son sent word to a contact in Ersand'Ernise. But none of that mattered, the Marquis decided that he would cast Ersand'Ernise outside his port.
But first was tall gentleman, Sir Yvain de Berbignon. He came with purpose and clarity unlike the Lady standing before him. The Marquis was much more attentive to Yvain. It was like a breath of fresh air that tells you that the eggs had gone rotten.
"Well your service will be much appreciated," the Marquis silently gave a nod to Yvain.
"Your presence is permitted, of course,-" the Marquis gave a subtle glare at Ayla, "And as such, your group will be rewarded a case of mana shots for tomorrows hunt." The Marquis lips curled into a small smile, smiling didn't fit his face.
He turned to Ayla, "Lady Ayla," his voice grew serious, "Anything you have to say?" he looked at her expectantly.
Ayla noted Yvain's presence as he entered the discussion and politely bowed her head in his direction. She had hoped to aspire to something better and greater in their meeting, aiming to create a united front with her fellow students from both factions and beyond. However, it became clear that such an aspect was unexpectedly threatening to the Marquis. As the adage goes, ‘better the enemy you know.’ The idea of a third party, no matter how benevolent or well-meaning, was seen as an unknown.
She sighed softly, especially as Yvain distinctly presented himself as part of the Sovereign Pact. This clearly identified her as being aligned with the Central Alliance, contrary to her intention. "We are all here to assist in this endeavour, regardless of factional lines. We represent students from Ersand’Enise, primarily from the Central Alliance nations, as our colleague next to us has stated. Your consent and any available resources or information you can offer would be greatly appreciated to allow us to operate effectively in dealing with this issue."
The Marquis weighed his judgement. She obscured herself as a neutral when she wasn't. Whether that was a lie, delusion, or genuine hope weighed on his mind. The Marquis was unashamed taking a minute or so of time to conclude his thoughts on Lady Arslan.
"The Central Alliance has done much to help hasten our readiness for tomorrow, and for a group representing a talented addition to their ranks, I thank you for coming. As such, I welcome you to Zengali, Lady Arslan. My aid will share with you the details and sleeping arrangements for tonight." Marquis Dume's kind words were laced with pity for the girl. One of the aids pulled out a scroll for Ayla and escorts her out of the Marquis's home.
Yvain nodded in response to the Marquis’s offer. ”They will be put to good use.” A sense of satisfaction enveloped the Perrenchman at hearing those honeyed words being partially taken back.
Once the Central Alliance representative was escorted out, did the young man’s sight return upon the man he had a meeting with. ”May I assume you wish to discuss more with me?” Yvain’s smile did not fade from his face. ”If so, could I suggest doing so while sharing a wonderful glass of wine?”
Marquis Dume smiled again, "As much as my aids and I wish for some reprieve, we cannot yet," the Marquis said with maybe a sigh and a small laugh among his aids. "But I do have news on your quarters," he stood from his chair to turn and point to a lovely looking villa on the higher part of the mountain, "A noble man like yourself should receive these accommodations, you'll find the amenities quite nice." One of the aids was quickly writing the authorization to use it after the sudden offer.
The Marquis moved on from his small gift, "If you wish to share a drink with me, come find me after the performance tonight, until then Sir Berbignon," the Marquis waved for one of his closer advisors to guide him out to the side gate instead of the main gate to avoid the common traffic.
He handed him the piece of paper for the house and a silver tablet to receive the mana shots. Along with that, the aid gave a similar breakdown of the thresher that he learned earlier. Lastly he was slipped a small bag of coinage to enjoy himself at the festival!
She cursed her helplessness, her inexperience, and most of all her stupidity. Her brown eyes watched as Penny hopped off with the drunkard. The pair disappeared down the nearest stairs before being swallowed up by shadows. A gentle squeeze on her hip jerked Roslyn's attention back to her predicament. She realized quickly, it wasn't Penny that needed saving. It was her. Slowly, he began to pull her to the opposite way. His hands kept her ahead of him and sent her down the stairs first.
Great job, Roslyn. Now what? Her heart dropped in her stomach while she tried to slow. His body closed in on her and forced her along, her boots stepping off the final step. He had one thing on his mind and she wasn't about to give it to him.
"So, what's your name? " She glanced about the interior. Failing to find an escape route, a nagging feeling started to grow in her chest.
"Gomes."
Roslyn fought to keep her smile in place. She twisted away whenever he invaded her personal boundaries. If only she brought her gun and some powder. The girl blinked. She realized there was barely any powder kegs near cannons. By now, Gomes' had noticed her lacking interest. "Something wrong?"
Roslyn tried to keep things light. "I saw you drinking earlier, any chance I could get a sip?"
He inhaled sharply and she could still smell the booze on his breath. While his arms didn't budge from around her, they did loosen their grip. Roslyn relaxed at the change. "Tastes like pisswater, not sure you'll like it." His lip curled upon the memory of it.
"I might be able to fix that."
The man's eyebrow raised. "How?"
"I know a thing or two about beers. It won't be hard to make it taste better." Roslyn held her breath, pleading this worked. Several moments ticked by before his curiosity overwhelmed the lust in his eye, "Fine. This way." With those words, they disappeared deeper into the ship.
Roslyn sat on one of empty barrels, watching the dark haired man gradually work a board loose. Sliding it aside, he reached down and retrieved a small green bottle. He handed it off to her when they heard a creak. Her eyes snapped to the entrance to spot an Enthish man standing there. Tall, thin with wave brown hair, his grey eyes shot venom toward Gomes.
"Ya filthy Torragonese rat! Put that back!" He spat and stepped forward.
The mask man snorted. "I didn't see your name on it, Jeb."
Words turned into a fight when the Enthish seized the man's shirt. Roslyn muffled a yell with her hand. Immediately, Gomes adjusted his mask then shoved Jeb away. While the men continued to argue, she slowly slid toward the exit. Suddenly, something slammed into the side of her face. Her knees buckled before her head crashed into the edge of another barrel. It felt like it split open on impact. The pulsing pain made bursts of stars in her vision as her left hand pressed against her eye. She was lucky she wasn't knocked out. Slowly, Roslyn pushed herself back onto her feet. In the background, the two men continued to fight and bicker.
Sacrificing a bit of her adrenaline, she muttered a spell at the bottle. It twitched then shot at the two men. It bounced off Jeb's head before it flipped into her free hand. The pair stopped fighting, their eyes turned on her.
"Now that I got your attention, sit down." Roslyn growled.
Much to her surprise, it worked. The two men settled down as she checked to see if someone heard them. No one seemed to noticed... yet. Pulling herself back to the pirates, she sat on a barrel once more. Next she rid the alcohol of its impurities before splitting it between them. The whole time, she fought past the pain of her bruised eye. She decided to bind it later.
Everything went smoothly after the first drink. With lifted moods, the men's lips loosened. They complained about the meager, pitiful rations. Low gunpowder, weapons, and more. Bitterly they recalled the horrors they faced and the beast's description, most of it matching the other accounts she knew. Feeling like she got all she could, she prepared to seek out the Captain when she caught Jeb staring intently at her.
"If you look too hard, your eyes might pop out." Roslyn said with a hint of annoyance.
Jeb smirked. "Sorry, you reminded me of something. You're Hendlish, aren't you? I recognize the accent."
"Yes, what of it?" She leaned her arms into the barrel and used it to keep her balance.
"I am just wonderin' sumethin'."
"What is that?"
"Why are you here? Pretty as you are, you're not dressed like most of the prostitutes I've seen."
Roslyn choose her words carefully. "A group and I were sent to help kill the White Thresher. Your ship was one of the more recent ones to survive. I didn't know if it was luck or if you managed to do something the other ships didn't." She paused for breath before adding, "The damage is also something I've seen before. Same type of thresher, I think."
Jeb's head tilted as he leaned in closer. "Okay, one more thing. There was rumors about a ship called the Fantasma Rosso, or Red Ghost. I recall mention that a little, brown haired Hendlish girl had gotten her hands on it. Is that you?"
Roslyn's pause lasted longer than necessary. "Yes, it is."
"You're a little short to run a ship like that, aren't you?" Gomes pipped up causing Jeb to laugh and nearly choke on the last of his drink.
Roslyn rolled her eyes and ignored the comment. "I was hoping to find the Captain and..."
Jeb leaned back and scoffed. "And what? Offer to smuggle something? Unless you can provide food, powder, or killing that thing, your offer does no good here. We might not survive the next day with that hells beast still around."
She flinched at his tone causing Jeb to sigh, his eyes turned to the side. Even Gomes became quiet and adjusted his mask again. A dark sense of defeat bled from the men before her. Jeb was the first to break out of it. He straightened himself up before casting her an apologetic look. "Sorry, lil' tense, you know? Livin' this way isn't easy."
"I suppose. I'm not going to help with the gunpowder or any weapons, but I'll see what I can do." Hopefully the thresher too, she added silently. "I need to get going."
Jeb nodded, but he didn't comment farther. A part of Roslyn pitied the pirates as she realized they were going into a fight with little to no hope of surviving. The amount of gunpowder and supplies proved that. She wasn't sure they deserved this, despite their life choices. Some like Jeb had accepted the grim reality. Others, tried to pretend it didn't exist and enjoy their remaining time. She walked out back the way she came while she heard Jeb turn his attention back to Gomes.
"Mate, next time I'll find a Virangish pepper n' shove it so far up yer ass, you'll be shittin' fire for months..."
Elsewhere, Ciro Volta had listened instead of spoken, for the most part, but he hadn't withheld his letter from the others. "I do think that either Lady Arslan, Signore Solaire, or myself should speak with the Marchese. I am indifferent as to whom. All will make a sound impression, I trust." He turned his eyes idly to a gull that seemed to be watching the group of interlopers, hoping for a snack. "Otherwise, I shall go down to the port proper. My company has one of its ships stranded here due to this incident. I should like to reassure Captain..." He struggled to recall the name for a moment. "Di Biase and check on the crew in between canvassing and earning some goodwill."
He had some idea of what the lost treasure ship had held, if not the particulars. It would not be in Revidia's best interests for any more than a tease of that end up in Perrench hands, not at all. Then again, Revidia's best interests weren't necessarily his.
Ciro, having turned to head out, twisted back at the last moment. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "I thought I could feel someone burning a hole in the back of my shirt with their gaze." He pivoted fully. "How fitting that it should be the Sun himself." His smile was easy enough, but his words gave away a degree of annoyance. Leon could have just asked outright, after all. It was not as if Ciro hadn't offered. "So perhaps it is this that you look for?" He strode back over and extracted the letter carefully from his satchel. "I should expect that you are not one of those to whom this refers. Dare I say our dear count is a touch paranoid." After briefly taking the measure of Leon, he handed it over. "I do wonder what yours holds as well."
Ayla, standing nearby, nudged Leon in the side, as he hadn't offered to share his letter's contents with her. She looked toward him expectantly, offering to share hers. "Oh, yes, my bad." Leon replied with a chuckle. He could've been addressing either of the two. "I do think its best we all share our letters. How thoughtless of me."
Leon didn't hesitate to hand Ciro his letter with an easy smile. The merchant was not the one he distrusted after all. "Of course."
Duly, the exchange was concluded, Roslyn joining in as well. If Ciro had hoped for anything particularly interesting, he would have been disappointed. There was precious little to actually glean much from any of these letters except for the notion that the count was definitely writing them specifically to appeal to each member of the team. He furrowed his brow, thanked his peers, and handed the missives back before continuing along his original course.
The docks were a place that Ciro was familiar with. Perhaps the languages and complexions of most of the sailors might change from place to place. You might find more of one sort of ship than another. Provisions might look a little different, but there was an undeniable feel and energy to places like this, and they were - in all honesty - where he felt most at home, least on guard.
He had not made it more than a hundred yards before he spotted Penny. She did not seem to have noticed him and it was just as well, for that could serve to make matters complicated, and quickly. He slowed up, meandering a bit, straightening a precarious stack of barrels with the Gift, adding some oomph to a hoist that was loading a large Xebec. Penny scurried on ahead in her odd, one-legged manner, dressed like a trollop, and he breathed out deeply.
That was when he noted Roslyn trailing behind him like a duckling. Right! She'd mentioned accompanying him before rushing off to freshen up. He nearly scowled but... she was... sort of cute running along with her skirts hitched up, he had to admit. "Hey!" he shouted, twisting jauntily on the spot. "Fancy seeing you here, lady Rosy!" He bowed playfully. "Come to keep tabs on me, have you?" There was a grin as he straightened. "I admit I may have been trying to ditch my chaperone."
Roslyn would've caught up to Ciro sooner, but she had become distracted along the way. There was so much that needed doing and so few people to do it. Naturally, she tried to help best she could. Among the work, she caught bits about the beast lurking in the waters.
In the Perrench's eyes, the creature was white as marble and about thirty four alds and wide as a galleon ship. A mouth large enough to swallow a battalion. The Revidians' description matched up almost the same, but in a far more painful tone. She shivered at the image forming in her head. When she spotted Ciro, she moved quickly to join him. Catching his tone, it reminded her of her brother's teasing whenever she shadowed him.
Returning the smirk, she replied. "Now you sound like my brother. I'm not that horrible to be around."
Ciro winked. "Anzi, you are one of the ones I don't just pretend to like." His expression straddled the divide between smile and grimace perfectly. He sighed, taking in the port with his eyes and then a gesture. "This place, you know, it's both a beauty and a tragedy: the sights and the sounds and the smells..." He trailed off and made the universal gesture for 'perfection' with his fingers. He paired it with a smile, but that quickly fell away. "So many people working together," he decided, nodding. "But so many dead and so many more about to join them."
He shook his head momentarily and drew in a breath before expelling it. "Even those pirates, suddenly redeemed in living or death, unless they run, of course." He gestured at the distant Nar Sant Iermu, berthed a good deal away from the other ships, out of an abundance of caution. He wrinkled his nose only slightly. "What do you think about working with them?"
Roslyn tilted her head slightly before taking in where he'd gestured. She understood what he meant as he laid down the cold, hard truth. A bitterness settled in her core over knowing it took a tragedy to force cooperation despite politics. Yet, she recalled it still lingered underneath it all. When the question about pirates was aired, Roslyn bit her lip. She recalled the incident with Revan of Skull and Crossbones that had revealed her ship's 'infamous' past.
"After the incident with a member from Skull and Crossbones, I'm rather wary of pirates. I'm not sure what to think of them. Even considering what I'm supposed to do has me nervous."
She paused for a moment before looking closely at him. "I do have a question for you. Did you know the Nuvole Rosse's history before you sold her to me?"
"Oh, there are many reasons one might become a pirata," Ciro allowed, his body language loose and easy. "Impressed into the navy, lack of opportunity, some misplaced notion of a noble struggle against authority..." His face and bearing turned to stone. "But at the end of the day, nobody held a gun to their heads and forced them to do violence to their fellow man. Pirates are scum." His face hardened. "It is one thing to mount a caper. It is one thing to break the law." He waved a hand. "I am less worried about that than one might think." He shook his head. "But the moment that you threaten death and violence against another person is the moment that you, yourself, leave the twin protections of mercy and decency."
He paused for a moment, and shot her a look that graduated from warning to chagrined, to apologetic. "Sorry," he added. "I've lost friends to them: family Didn't mean to get personal." They walked in silence for an extended moment, and there were sights and sounds as Ciro had said earlier: most of the people at work who weren't locals were Revidian or Joruban, but there were Belzaggics too. In particular, a red-robed priest - perhaps a Rezaindian - seemed to be marshalling them. "The people here are playing us off against each other, you know - Pact and Alliance - hoping for a better deal." He sniffed and smiled tightly. "Clever bastards: they'll deny it, of course."
Roslyn listened intently. She wasn't nearly as experienced with the shipyard as Ciro, but she was familiar with manual labor. Her eyes spotted one of the workers lean too far right. Her hand flicked out with the Gift and she gently righted his balanced back to the middle. She doubted anyone wanted to take a swim today. Inwardly, she reflected on Ciro's words and empathizing with the loss of loved ones.
"No need to apologize. Losing family or friends is hard especially when it feels unfair. I can only imagine it to be worse because of pirates.." She recalled her grief over the loss of her mother and the emotions that followed. Even to this day, she hated her birthday whenever it came around.
He could only distract himself for so long from Roslyn's second question, however. He nodded, and paired it with a shrug. "I knew enough: The Fantasma is a famous ship - or, rather, a rumour of a ship to most. She's a brig, purpose-built for smuggling, by my own great-uncle." He offered a sour look as a couple of seagulls fought at the foot of a nearby bollard. "Cost a fortune, made a fortune, changed hands a half-dozen times." He paused to tighten some ropes that moored a small ketch to the dock. They'd been poorly secured. Squinting into the sun, he regarded the Hendlishwoman. "She ran plenty of dirty cargoes and, at one point, was a pirate herself." He shrugged. "At another, ran them for the Doge."
He straightened, turning in profile so as not to have the sun in his eyes. Nearby, the one gull had overcome its rival. "You're a decent person." He stated it matter-of-factly. "and I sensed that your finances were... less than ideal. A ship is a boon. A ship is an opportunity. A ship is..." He trailed off for a moment. "Freedom, of sorts." He smiled at her. "And I wanted her out of the hands of pirates, once and for all, not used for killing, not used for war: used right. She's a beautiful one and she deserves it."
She let the silence settle. There was no rush for answers yet despite her growing curiosity. Again she listened before giving a thoughtful response in return. "I try to be, but I do question it some times. The larger the world, the harder it seems to be to know what's right or wrong." Roslyn inhaled the sea air as they continued on.
"I will admit, when I first saw her... It wasn't hard to see the care and love put into her. I am going to try and restore her best I can. What happens after that, I don't know yet." She grew quiet for a moment before deciding to share a bit of unfortunate news. "I wish you weren't right about the finance issues, but..." She sighed in defeat, "it's not easy to hide. Sadly, I'm afraid my actions at the trials might've made it worse. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be to stay at the academy when my family finds out."
Ciro nodded slowly. "Few things are black and white, but we act as we must and, as long as we take the gods as our example..." He trailed off and shrugged, sauntering in the direction of a large warehouse not so very far from his company's own Coure Volante. Something of note was taking place there. There were men bickering over some sort of elixir or medicine. Well, not quite 'bickering', but it was close. His interest was, admittedly, piqued.
"Roslyn." He turned to her suddenly. "I would like to have your ship at my disposal, but not under my company's flag, given her... history and the questions that might raise." He pursed his lips for a moment. "It will take some time for you to clear her name, but I have faith that you will." He stood on his tiptoes to see over the sea of heads. With a start, he recognized a woman wearing a large hat as Penny Pellerin.
He twisted back to face his current conversational partner, however. "I believe that we can help ourselves." He tapped his chin with his index finger pensively. "I hire your ship on a contract basis, for time-sensitive runs. I forward you some of the cost and you pay it back - no interest as a percentage from your profit. I'll not take much." He shook his head. "You have a steady source of income and I have a resource at my disposal." After one last, seemingly futile, glance at the crowd, he offered Roslyn a smile and a hand.
Roslyn also noticed the commotion near the warehouse, but she was notably shorter than Ciro. Any chance to spot it over the gathering bodies would require a bit of a magic aid. However, hearing her name, she found herself pulled back to the conversation. It took her a moment to weight the offer. Part of her wondered if this deal might turn slightly sour like Trypano's.
A moment passed before her body relaxed. He hadn't given her a reason to distrust him and there didn't seem to be any hidden strings. "It sounds better than any option I have come up with so far." She smiled and shook his hand, sealing the deal.
"It's a deal. That just leaves me to figure out how to deal with the pirates now."
Ciro paused, seeming to consider deeply. "Gunpowder." He nodded. "Or something else of the like." He smiled in half-mirth. "We shall finalize things at some other juncture, perhaps. For now, we've - "
It was at about that moment that Penny emerged from the crowd, dressed like either a tramp or a pirate, and chatting with a middle-aged man who'd been involved in the earlier debate. He was carrying a large jar of some dark liquid: the elixir to which the others had referred. "Both got our own angles to take care of?" He concluded, voice rising questioningly as he adjusted on the fly. He motioned towards the crowd with his chin while pointing at himself. Then his eyes flicked towards the quickly retreating Penny and Roslyn in turn.
Roslyn caught Ciro's attention sway. She glanced in the same direction from her peripheral vision. Her jawline tightened with visible concern and she seemed taken aback. Penny!?!? What are you doing here? Roslyn blinked, hoping she'd hallucinated it. No, it was definitely her friend dressed in less than modest fashion.
"I will keep that in mind while practicing my shooting." She was already starting to move. "I'll catch up with you later and... thanks."
Ciro was not averse to work and, most especially, the appearance of having done that work as well. He was conspicuous everywhere on the docks, handling the ropes himself with his bare calloused hands, moving crates with the Gift, careening ships, organizing shifts, donating to those who had lost loved ones or limbs to the beast, and encouraging people to pull together. He was everywhere. He was a marvel. He was every bit the equal of Brother Hodari. Just as it should be.
When he took a break from his tireless effort to eat, he had pasta catered for another nineteen workers, 'randomly' selected. There was nothing random, of course. This was Ciro Volta. He never acted without forethought and intention. They were the most likely to play well with the locals, to have some influence, to matter to the Marquis. By the time that the sun hung low in the sky and its light sparkled across the city, golden, they practically threw the potions, tonics, and serums they'd been clamouring over at him. Just as it should be.
The water's surface rippled pink and orange as Ciro Volta disappeared into the hold of the Coure Volante. People were winding down the day's work and heading for the city's plazas and squares. Palms rustled in the brisk sea breeze. He was well out of the sensing range of anyone who mattered and it was just as well. "Captain Garibaldi."
"Padrone."
"Our men: have they returned?"
"Most of them, sir." His bearing was almost military. Ciro's toothy lopsided grin was not. "And have they learned anything?"
"I should say so, milord." He paused, brow furrowed. "Though perhaps more 'alarming' than interesting."
They spoke for a handful of minutes on those developments before moving on. "And the Somia girl?" He'd spotted her, looking even less human than usual, by the docks a couple of times. "She hasn't stopped by, has she?"
"No, Padrone."
"If she does, kill her and arrange for it to look like the Pact."
"Sir." He nodded.
"Same for the Arslan." Ciro thought for a moment, but none of the others were important enough to warrant such consideration. "Now, moving on. How bad is the situation with the beast?" He leaned against a stack of barrels, arms crossed.
"We are trapped here truly." The captain did not look happy about it.
Ciro pushed off from the barrel and his eyes narrowed as his hands fell to his sides. "Then I shall need my chest. You have it, correct?"
Garibaldi bowed his head and gestured. "This way, Padrone."
The sun had set and, already, the sound of drums echoed across the fjord's walls in the distance. They could not be heard over the howling of the wind or pounding of the surf out here on the unprotected coast. The water surged. The moons shone. The shore was utterly deserted...
Save for a singular figure in a hooded black cloak. It stood there, its voice rising above the sounds of nature in fervent incantation. From the sea rose first two, and then a third, a fourth, a fifth! Soon, there were nearly two dozen, in various states of decay. Some might have looked human at a glance, but they were no such thing any longer. A small army of corpses and body parts gathered above the ocean and began to swirl. The figure continued to focus and chant and the surge of energy would have been magnificent... if only were there anybody within range to witness it. A black miasma took shape where the body parts collided. Still they swirled. Still they churned!
From within the maelstrom's depths came a light, then: a single deathly pale blue light. It pulsed at the heart of the abomination. Then, a second winked into existence, followed by a third. Lashing tentacles, a dozen eyes, slashing hooked claws. "I call thee forth, Ataxhaman!" bellowed the robed figure, "from thy abode in darkness! I summon thee, bale baron of the sea, under mine command in utmost fealty!" And then it was done and his great servant towered before him, awaiting its orders and utterly loyal. Just as it should be.
Ciro Volta arrived at the square well-dressed, slightly late, and slightly out of breath. He had a peculiar-looking club - or was it a horn - in one hand, and apologies on his lips. He had spent some time trying to acquire a quality example of one of these and gotten terribly lost!
Feeling something grip on his sleeve, From his first glance, he originally thought it was Mahal. But seeing the Goma Cat by her side turns out it was the other one, Lunara. Hearing her apologise for gripping him to help keep her steady. "No, no it's alright." listening to the ideas that was mentioned by the his fellow biros. When Jamboi mentioned about the diversion. Niallus agreed. "A Diversion would be good." cupping his chin, pondering on what more input could be added to help.
"If we have a small group looking for Jaxon while the the others cause a distraction. I can take part im looking Like Jamboi said, Most of their priorities will be on this meeting, more likely be one high goons and a few lackys at best." Thinking more about it, his gaze turned to Daxon. "Would you be able to provide a description of your son? Or Hair colour, length, height that sort of thing. Or even how he talks. It can help the group who are searching for him have an easier time."
Niallus spoke to on his thoughts, "The well dressed Yasoi is a bit strange. But it could be just a coincidence, We can always find more information on them." leaning to a wall, he crossed his arms and continued. "It would be best to gather as much information as we can, pool it together, build a better understanding of the situation and why abducte this one?" He simply suggested to the group.
"Small groups are good, but so can large groups, however large groups that are consisting a handful nobles and Yasoi in one group, people will be suspicious. " "With that being said."
He readies himself to get ready to leave he double checks his satchal, to see if he has everything. "I'm going to investigate that well dressed Yasoi. I'll report back, if anyone wants to come along they can?"
Following the Skugvars to the destination. Passing through crowds that gave a wide berth, mostly so they did provoke the Skugvars. Conversations between people would pause, as they walked past then would continue once more. The merchant selling their trade, still continued. “I have some excellent wares if you fine, group of people interested in?” Niallus ignored what the merchant was selling, besides it was more likely to have been looted off some corpses during the revolution that happened a week ago.
The group decided to take a little stop to get something that was called, Buudvuud. Niallus had never had this before but from the aroma that it was emitting, it was worth a try. Niallus was the last of the group to order his Buudvuud. While thinking about what to have he asked the worker something simple. Face to face with this zit filled teenager. "Being the owner, you see a lot of interesting things here in the area?" the kid arched an eyebrow at the Eskands question. “Me? I'm not the owner.” His voice was nasally and drone. “I wasn't even supposed to work today.” His voice, getting a little annoyed about it. “The owner's younger brother was supposed to be in today, but he suddenly took a vacation, so the owner made me come in.”
The kid went back to Niallus’ question about anything interesting, he tilted his head. “What do you mean by anything interesting?” "Oh, It's just because I'm not from around here, that's all." letting out a warm smile. "Just wanted some insight of what to expect in this area and what to steer clear of. I don't want to cause trouble with my first visit." letting out a light chuckle. In response to the worker's answer, about him complaining about work. " Damn that sucks, so they've done this multiple times? Do you know the reason why?" The Kid started to get nervous as he quickly changed the subject “Are you going to order a Buudvuud or not?”
Not wanting to push the matter, Niallus went back to ordering his Buudvuud. "Yes, sorry." Looking through, "I'll order that one." ordering the spicy one. As Niallus paid for his order he slipped a magnus to him, "That's to keep our conversation secret. Ok?" He quickly took and hid it on his person.
After a nice stop for food, even if Niallus’ Buudvuud was spicy. "Gods above, my mouth is on fire." walking through the residential area following the Skugvars. Some locals glared at Niallus and the group, he gave them a little wave, they stuck their middle finger up at him in return. "Charming…" He mumbled. The group came to a stop at this house, "Why does this one look more run down than the others around?" He wondered. His attention went to Abdel as he asked him to talk to the neighbours. "Sure." He said walking off to one of the houses that was next to the one Abdel and Johann. Standing in front of the door, Niallus gave it a knock, before pausing. "Hello?"
Lunara on seeing the Yasoi's severed finger, started to feel quinsy. She instinctively put her left hand over her mouth and she also started to feel unsteady, as she had never seen a severed limb before. On noticing that Niallus was next to her she grabbed his are with her right hand to steady herself. "Sorry Niallus, I suddenly felt ill on seeing the finger, never seen that before." Lunara's Goma cat Miray on seeing that Lunara wasn't feeling well started to rub her face on her leg and stand on her hind legs to get her attention. Lunara on noticing this crouched down and petted her. "It's ok Miray, I'm fine."
Lunara, after pulling herself around, stood and attentively listened to the conversations. To make sure she heard every idea, and information. She wanted to make sure she knew exactly what had happened and what was going to happen.
Lunara picked up Miray so that she didn't get in the way of everyone. While holding and petting Miray, Lunara listened to all of the ideas and suggestions that everyone had intently. "I do agree, a well dressed Yasoi is odd, however I'm not judging. But I feel like the disguise idea is good as well, and could be very helpful."
She took a moment to think about what she wanted to do, she really wants to be useful. After thinking, Lunara turned and walked towards Ashon, she smiled and asked. "I like your disguise idea, would it be ok to join you." Walking The streets, Miray close by her side. Lunara stood close by having Ashon and the others in her view. She took a deep breath, trying to not let her nerves get to her. Having butterflies in her stomach, thinking what if Ashon or Seviin get attacked by a mugger and she's too nervous to act. Before her nerves got the better of her she felt a tuft of soft fur brushing into her hand. It was Miray. Her purring, somehow was loud enough to be heard over the crowd and the small merchants "Thank you my friend." notice that the group moved on just out of sight, Lunara quickly followed.
Trying her best to pretend to browse and take in the sights, Lunara heard panic. Following where everyone else was looking, it seems that Ashon and Seviin were under attack. Dory who was working with Lunara was already getting into position to assist. What can I do? she thought, as she tried her best to stay hidden and not to make like she is part of the group. Then as if she understood her, Miray rushed off in front of the group.
Miray leapt towards one of the attacks close to Seviin hissing, biting the attacker in the leg digging her claws into the attackers leg, after some painful yanks, the attacker managed to pry Miray off of his leg. “Fucking mangy cat!” They yelled, wanting to kick Miray with full force. This was Lunara's time to step in, and she took it. Stepping out of the crowd, removing her chakrams from her waist, ready to fight and assist. She then looked at Miray, smiled and said "Good girl Miray, bite down harder, show this fool what you can do." Lunara then turned to the man with a wicked grin, and pointed one of her chakrams near the man's neck."So what were you trying to do and what did you say about my Goma cat?"
In short order, the thugs were dispatched, falling to the ground in various states of injury and unconsciousness. One, in particular, was on death's doorstep, and Seviin rushed over to his side, scowling at the 'concerned citizen' who'd intervened. Another was held at knifepoint by a second 'concerned citizen'. How brazen it was, how obvious! Seviin groaned inwardly. She had not only to save a life here, but also to allay suspicion. How young their rescuers were, how noble-seeming in the quality of their instruments and attitudes. If Ashon had played his role beautifully, and the fox-masked woman well enough, the other two were walking exemplars of the stereotype that huusoi did not know subtlety.
Two of the thugs were yasoi, one was a human woman, and the remainder, surprisingly, was eeaiko. While the woman and one of the yasoi shook their heads to clear them and took off at a run, the other two weren't going anywhere. "Stay still," the priestess commanded, her grip firm and gentle. "And you may yet avoid passing from mother Oirase to father Exiran." He was weak and gushing blood from the massive chunk taken out of his neck. "You may yet avoid judgement for your many sins," she murmured, trying to focus on the wound. She had never healed an eeaiko before. In theory, they were like huusoi, but their joints were different, and she could not tell if the pallor of the man's skin was natural or due to blood loss. She could smell perfume on him: the cheap sort used by prostitutes, but it was no matter. The world faded into the background and she simply worked.
It hadn't stopped, however. "I said your cat is mangy, and I'm here for steal from these rich... suulest!" hollered the yasoi who she had by the neck. "What you will do, Ersandenise? Kill me? With people watch? Indeed, while many had retreated, they were present: at the mouths of alleys and sidestreets, sheltering beneath awnings, and peering out from windows. A good few eyes were on Dorothea as well: both human and yasoi. His darted about, trying to catch some of these, before returning to Lunara challengingly.
Dory found herself and her brilliant rifle objects of intense scrutiny. "You didn't have to kill him!" shouted one woman. "Lecoam'op!" came a yasoi voice. "Lecoam'op!"
"Cuul'op!"
"Cere'soi!" one spat.
Then, the wounded eeaiko was up, at least somewhat. "Yoo... seve mee," he breathed. "Why? Eye try too hoort yoo."
"You had your reasons. I have mine." She shook her head. "Your crimes were not worthy of death." He scrabbled back, rubbing at his freshly-healed neck tenderly, and she could see that he was not as young as she'd thought: at least a few years north of thirty. For a moment, their eyes met. "Yoo're... aulmoost steell e chaild," he murmured. He made a religious gesture. "Foorgeeve mee."
"That is not my purview," Seviin replied. "Truly, only the Gods can." An idea occurred to her, then, as Ashon dashed off after one of the runners. "Might you earn some goodwill, perhaps, with... one small service?"
His eyes darted around, looking for Dorothea's position, before he nodded reluctantly. "Why did you attack us?" Seviin put to him, and he scrunched up his face at that. She blinked, waiting. "Beecause yoo heve mauney end Eye needed eet." He said it as if it were self-evident and that pained the young priestess more than anything else. "Can you not work?"
"Tell mee goorl," he remarked bitterly, "whoo weell haire te hemvooreek faur eny jaub hee ectuelly waunt?" He shook his head. Hemvoorik. She knew it: an exile or unclean designation among most eeaiko of the twin continents, for having stolen the labour of another or the fruits of his mind. It was inheritable.
"I..." She trailed off for a moment, brow furrowed. "wonder which of your ancestors was responsible for this pitiful state of yours." Seviin regarded him evenly and, when he hesitated, she did not. "None, I see," she cut him off and her expression hardened. "And so you are a penitent before Shiin who now sins against Oirase so that you might abuse the love of Ypti and buy off your debts to Vyshta." She scowled in disdain. "When I said that you were not worthy of death, sir, I did not mean that you had done anything to deserve the life given you either." She shook her head. "A worm draws breath and so does a rat, and neither has given so much harm to the world as you."
"Fauck you!" he shouted. "Whaut kaind auf heeler -"
"Myself, sir." Fast as a cobra striking, she backhanded him across the face, snapping his head around. "You shall mind your tongue in my presence, sinner."
"Eye doon't even shere yoor relegyoon!" he protested, halfway between shock and anger.
"Father Damy has blessed you with the right to be wrong."
"Auwfool fu-" He paused and tried again. "queeck too jaudge mee, baut hauw ebaut yoor frend whoo shoot mee soo heppely?"
Seviin twisted to regard Dory and, for a moment, their eyes met. Then, she turned crisply back to the eeaiko. "Someday, mother Oirase shall judge her too, but her soul is not yours to command. Your own is, and you have done a foul job of it."
"Whaut doo yoo waunt?"
"Everything," Seviin replied simply. "All that you know." She shook her head. "You will hold nothing back and, this day, you will take the first step towards rescuing your eternal soul from damnation."
All at once, the thief tried to surge to his feet, but his legs failed him and he stumbled. Seviin caught him in a kinetic grasp. "Just because I am young, sir, does not mean I am naive." She took him by the ear. "I have altered your inner ear so that you may not balance until it is restored. Now -" She took no pleasure in this. There was no smile. "Shall we begin?"
He glared at her but seemed to go slack after a moment. "Okay," he sighed through clenched teeth.
While the students of Ersand'Enise completed their own preparations to meet with the Doridax family, the skull-masked lady in red met with another cloaked figure in a dimly lit warehouse, not too dissimilar from the one in which they'd be requested to drop off the ransom. Dust motes danced in the ambient sunlight streaming in from the single unwashed window that wasn't broken and boarded up, while the two figures verbally engaged in a dance of their own.
"This is quite unlike... well, any favors you've requested in recent memory. Make it make sense," remarked the Revidian man in the brown cloak.
It could have meant a great many things. It might have been a simple observation, or a show of reluctance, or an attempt to barter for a higher payout. It could even have been interpreted as an almost fatherly warning to the masked youth—but if a fly on the wall had been present to witness the negotiation, it might have noticed that the younger of the two was sitting comfortably at the head of the table.
"Both our enemies and our closest associates lay out their plans, unaware that our plans are already laid out beneath them. It's not your place to make sense of it, and it isn't mine to give it all away," she replied. Unlike his response, the meaning of hers was clear: keep your nose out. "I'm offering you the privilege of operating freely during a time when leashes will be the most tight. Being gifted that level of trust in the Family is no small thing."
"All the more reason why I have to wonder why you'd risk so much for some kidnapped kid, or a criminal or two... It's certainly not about making off with that ransom money," he preempted. "Or your fight for 'yasoi equality' or whatever it is you're up to on the side."
"Ohhh~? Is it not? Tell me more," she replied, perching her cheek on her hand, appearing genuinely invested. This caught the man off guard, and, as he sat there, struggling to form a follow-up question, the life of the Doridax family's son hanging in the balance of every uneasy, awkward second that passed, he finally understood: behind the perception-compelling power of that mask, she was mocking him. Her eyes narrowed, the youth with the skeletal face watched in playful amusement as this grown man struggled to put the pieces together, to find the grander scheme lurking beneath the veneer of a simple plan that read like some kind of childish prank. "Well, it's as if you want the Company to fail."
Her eyes narrowed in further glee. "Heehee! The Family has its tendrils in everything that touches the Ensollian. Every gulf, every port, every river—if a puddle can be used to transport goods by boat, it's been touched by Company ink. They're too big to fail—and why would I want them to?"
"What about the Forte Impresa?" he replied—as if that were a mark against their record.
"What about it?" she shot back flippantly.
"She hasn't been seen near any port since she went missing. We still don't know who's made off with her, and worse still, we know they aren't lone actors. Someone is supplying her; the shareholders that have already left can certainly see that much. At this rate, I'd say the pyrates have as much control over the Ensollian, if not more—unless you mean to sit there and tell me you know all the answers?" he challenged.
The girl's face didn't change, but the energy that could be felt from it did. That skeletal smile didn't move, yet it somehow morphed from something like a child's unbridled mischievous glee to something altogether much more sinister. The single bead of sweat on the man's face suddenly felt ice cold as she considered her response. "Yeah," she replied coolly.
It could have meant a great many things. It might have been a simple acknowledgement that she was aware of the situation, or a show of confidence that it was being handled, or an attempt to suggest that she did, in fact, have all the answers. It could have even been interpreted as an eerie warning that, yes, the pyrates controlled as much or more of the Ensollian now, and that this was being accepted as the new normal. This was policy.
If there had been a fly on the wall, it would have flown away in fear. Again, her meaning was clear.
Abdel peered into the contents of the boxes, relatively unfazed by the grizzly display. Still, he put up a look of concern to not appear too callous in what he saw as a trying moment for the family's patriarch. The tethered beastmaster rubbed his chin. “I'm sorry this is blighted situation has befallen your family, Mister Doridax.” he looked into the man's eyes with sincerity. “I have no doubt we'll be able to track these people. In fact,” he hovered his hand over the box that held the finger. “for what they've done, I think letting them stay ahead of us wouldn't be prudent and a signal for them that you can be bullied at any time.” he shot an expectant look at the father as the hovering hand approached the finger.
“You must know about Skuggvars from where you're from, Mr. Doridax. Then you would understand why I'd need this finger.” only with the authorization for the fatherly Yasoi would he seize the severed part, of course. “We should be able to track down the owner. With some luck, it's actually a decoy and thus a lead for us to get a jump on the kidnappers.”
Lunara on seeing the Yasoi's severed finger, started to feel quinsy. She instinctively put her left hand over her mouth and she also started to feel unsteady, as she had never seen a severed limb before. On noticing that Niallus was next to her she grabbed his are with her right hand to steady herself. "Sorry Niallus, I suddenly felt ill on seeing the finger, never seen that before." Lunara's Goma cat Miray on seeing that Lunara wasn't feeling well started to rub her face on her leg and stand on her hind legs to get her attention. Lunara on noticing this crouched down and petted her. "It's ok Miray, I'm fine."
Lunara after pulling herself around, stood and attentively listened to the conversations. To make sure she heard every idea, and information. She wanted to make sure she knew exactly what had happened and what was going to happen.
Oksana examined the details of the case. Such complicated affairs were not her strong suit; she was a simple girl who spent most of her time in the wilderness. If a huntress wanted to catch an animal, then the first task was to find its location, and the second task was to lure it out. In retrospect, this case was far easier to resolve because they knew where the 'animal' was; they just needed bait for the trap.
"We don't know them, but we have the location, and we have what they want." She indicated towards the letter, pointing out the writing warehouse on Owl Street and the demand for five thousand Magus. "We bait the trap, they come out. We capture them for lord. Job done." She spoke positively and authoritatively on the matter as she looked at the others.
Ashon listened to the ideas presented, raising his own finger, though not too close to Abdel. "Yes, yes, there are some great ideas here. A touch of refinement needed, but they will definitely work to bring home your wayward son." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "There's a good chance that Jaxan wouldn't be there at the meet, and our little springing of their trap could backfire on its own." He flicked Oksana's nose playfully. "What we need is what's called a multi-faceted approach in yanii speak, or in less fancy words, a plan with a couple of moves going on at once."
He gestured toward Abdel with an enclosed hand. "One group tracks down Jaxan specifically, rescuing him from the foes." He held up another hand. "Another acts as the distraction; we'll need to create a very juicy target to draw away support." He opened his hand to reveal a benny. "With attention focused elsewhere, you can grab him safely, then we apprehend those involved." He flicked the coin up and caught it.
"As for the distraction, it's best if you don't attend yourself. So we'll need to borrow some clothes for myself and my friend here." He put his arm around Seviin, pulling her close. "We'll dress up enough to resemble yourselves so they think we're the bigger mark." He grinned widely at Seviin. "What do you say? Will you be my wife for the evening?"
Feeling something grip on his sleeve, From his first glance, he originally thought it was Mahal. But seeing the Goma Cat by her side turns out it was the other one, Lunara. Hearing her apologise for gripping him to help keep her steady. "No, no it's alright." listening to the ideas that was mentioned by the his fellow biros. When Jamboi mentioned about the diversion. Niallus agreed. "A Diversion would be good." cupping his chin, pondering on what more input could be added to help.
"If we have a small group looking for Jaxon while the the others cause a distraction. I can take part im looking Like Jamboi said, Most of their priorities will be on this meeting, more likely be one high goons and a few lackys at best." Thinking more about it, his gaze turned to Daxon. "Would you be able to provide a description of your son? Or Hair colour, length, height that sort of thing. Or even how he talks. It can help the group who are searching for him have an easier time."
"A finger, huh? Now that's a classic." Dory looked with a wide smirk on her expression. Her look turned to the girl that fell ill from just a finger. "There were corpses and mangled bodies all around Ersand'Enise when some students attacked for their little 'revolution'. A little finger can't be too much to look at, right?"
The girl just leaned around. "These plans could work if the kidnappers don't account for it, I guess. But than again we don't even know how strong they are given a fight could break out."
Seviin was not sure if she should've been here. She knew nobody, aside from Ashon in the most cursory manner, and felt like an outsider. Still, there was a need and she was a healer and protector. If she would not sully the name of Lady Oirase by employing her talents on behalf of the Grey Fleet, then neither could she sit idle while her people suffered outside the gates of Ersand'Enise. The 'pass' she'd been given a couple days ago - the one that she'd been told to wear at all times - was a reminder of the challenges they faced and she burned with resentment over the entire affair. Still, it was not enough to drive her back into the arms of her Tarlonese brethren. She'd made her break and there was no going back.
Mostly, out of sorts as she was, the young priestess listened in lieu of speaking. There seemed very many speakers and few listeners here. She listened and observed. Abdel was one of those proactive principled secretly-angry sorts. Lunara was a soft, weak noble girl who let others lead her. Oksana knew killing, though Seviin could scarcely understand her.
Then, Ashon spoke and Seviin's face lost much of its paleness for a moment. "I... I shall endeavour to serve... well," she stammered, trying to fight back the aggressive blush. "I should speak little, however. I sound ever so much like a Tarlonese." When Niallus opened his mouth she took some solace. Jaxon. He was perhaps even more hopeless than her. beyond that, she got little sense of him. He was kind, perhaps, especially to ladies, set on his own ideas. Dorothea was the mocking type, but with a bit of grace and subtlety. Seviin found herself torn. She often harboured similar impulses, though she never entertained them.
There were, as far as she could discern, four different plans being floated about and nine people to carry them out. Track the finger with the skuggvars, bring the money and ambush the kidnappers, create a decoy target - including myself, and nab Jaxan. It was a lot to juggle and they had no idea of their enemy's strength. Seviin did not like killing; she abhorred it, in fact, but she knew it almost like Oksana did, so immersed had she been in the brutal world of Tarlonese expansion. You did your recon. Leaping in without doing any was a recipe for disaster. Dory was right.
She was about to separate herself from Ashon and say as much when Johann, another listener, spoke up. "I might be called overcautious," he admitted, "but I can't help help but wonder if my lady is right." He gestured in the Feskan girl's direction. "We know nothing about our quarry except that they have put forward a ransom note for Baron Doridax's son and seen fit to include a finger that may be his as evidence of their seriousness. I am very much for a multifaceted approach and I see no reason not to employ the... talents of those skuggvars, but surely we must learn something before just charging in."
"We also should not split into groups of less than three people," Seviin suggested, finally finding her voice again, "except, perhaps, in the case of myself and Ashon somewhat later."
Oksana rubbed her nose as the Yasoi flicked the tip of it, earning him a disapproving glare from her. As he and the others spoke, she tilted her head, trying to follow along with the conversation. A part of her wondered if they were just making up words at this point. From what she gathered, they thought her plan was a good one, and that worked for her.
Peeling an apple with her sword, she noticed Seviin looking over at her a couple of times. Perhaps she's hungry, Oksana thought. She cut the fruit in half and offered a portion to the girl with a big smile on her face. "It's sweet," she said, then proceeded to cut the remaining half into quarters, taking a bite of one of them herself. Secretly, she slipped another piece under her cloak, feeding some kind of animal tucked in there.
The discussion seemed to shift towards dividing people into groups for further talks. In hindsight, she should have considered a task involving hunting and tracking animals, or something related to the wilderness where her skill set would be more relevant. But beggars can't be choosers, and she was certainly begging when it came to income right now.
But among the many who spoke, there was one who listened, and listened intently: the one who simply introduced herself with the yasoi word for "fox." Her skeletal smile was at times impossibly friendly and, only when appropriate, menacing.
"It is hard for the young to understand the love of a parent, but, as someone who was kidnapped and rescued once, I know your feelings well." She narrowed her eyes at the flippant attitudes of some of her allies. Then, her gloved hands reached for the ransom money, as she produced a bag of rice from her own cloak and mixed the two together. Anticipating the strange looks from her wealthy patrons and classmates, she explained. "When carrying large sums of money through a seedy place like Mudville, one should take care that her purse does not jingle with the telltale sound of gold." Ensuring a top layer of rice, and tying the mundane-looking sack tightly, she jostled it a few times, satisfied with her handiwork.
"I can vouch for the talents of Abdel and his skuggvars. But regardless of what other plans we decide to set into motion, to give us the best chance of returning the boy unharmed, someone must take the money to the location and negotiate if necessary. Surely no one objects to letting me perform this role?" She looked around at each of them reassuringly. "If I were accompanied, even by a distance, by the pair of you, disguised as the parents, this might go smoothly," she said as she regarded Ashon's contribution.
Seviin blinked at the offer. She swallowed and accepted the slice of apple. "I thank you for your generosity, suunei." If there was more to notice, she did not comment upon it. Then, the Rettanese girl spoke and she nodded. "I agree that we should try, but it is best if we go as agents of their Lord and Ladyships, however. I am not a skilled enough illusionist to pass myself off as Jaxan's Lady mother." She twisted to regard Ashon briefly. "And I may be mistaken, but I don't believe he is either." She winked.
Xiuyang gave Ashon an exasperated side-eye, as if to suggest that this was his problem to solve.
Ashon smirked widely, and shook his head at the pair of them. “We don’t have to look like her. We simply have to look like we could be her," as he placed emphasis on the points “After all, this beautiful and regal lady has never stepped foot in the slums known as Mudsville.”
He clasped his hands together, “Now, we have a plan idea, let’s go and gather some information so we can put it into practice.”
The masked Rettanese pinched his sleeve as if expecting him to run off. "True, they could be idiots who wouldn't know one well-dressed yasoi from another. But we shouldn't just assume that. I don't think they could have kidnapped Jaxan without a plan. This was probably a targeted abduction, which means they might know who they're dealing with. And yet they did what they did. Which is why Seviin is right. Smaller groups are a bad idea."
Seviin narrowed her eyes for a moment. Then, she shrugged. "I suppose we should try to look distinguished, then." The mysterious Rettanese spoke in a way that was quite familiar with Ashon and this only added a layer to the mystery. "All three of us together, then. Ideally, as Belleville is not geographically large, we should each try to keep within sensing range of at least one other group."
Having separated themselves from the wealthy family for this brief discussion, Seviin pivoted on her heel and made to return. "Perhaps we might borrow some clothing?"
Johann, meanwhile, simply played an easygoing part. "I admit to being in quite over my head," he remarked. "Like my Feskan neighbour here -" He gestured at Dory "I am merely looking to set things right immediately outside our city's gates and help some people in need." He paused and furrowed his brow. "Perhaps, given the... regrettable recent history between our people and the yasoi, I should focus on the human side of matters and, when it comes down to the nitty-gritty of matters, I might act as muscle if needed." He seemed less than enthusiastic about the last part of his proposal but, perhaps , accepting of its necessity. "Now, I do think time is somewhat of the essence. We should get moving if we are to recover Master Jaxan in a reasonable state."
Niallus spoke to on his thoughts, "The well dressed Yasoi is a bit strange. But it could be just a coincidence, We can always find more information on them." leaning to a wall, he crossed his arms and continued. "It would be best to gather as much information as we can, pool it together, build a better understanding of the situation and why abducte this one?" He simply suggested to the group.
"Small groups are good, but so can large groups, however large groups that are consisting a handful nobles and Yasoi in one group, people will be suspicious. " "With that being said."
He readies himself to get ready to leave he double checks his satchal, to see if he has everything. "I'm going to investigate that well dressed Yasoi. I'll report back, if anyone wants to come along they can?"
Johann blinked. "Our two yasoi friends with their human 'sellsword' guard and illusionist, Abdel with his skuggvars and perhaps one other as security assurance. The other four to split into pairs for information gathering but remain within sensing range at all times." He crossed his arms. "Done and dusted."
Lunara picked up Miray so that she didn't get in the way of everyone. While holding and petting Miray, Lunara listened to all of the ideas and suggestions that everyone had intently. "I do agree, a well dressed Yasoi is odd, however I'm not judging. But I feel like the disguise idea is good as well, and could be very helpful."
She took a moment to think about what she wanted to do, she really wants to be useful. After thinking, Lunara turned and walked towards Ashon, she smiled and asked. "I like your disguise idea, would it be ok to join you."
Oksana found herself pairing up with Captain Skugvaar who had a finger on the pulse of the investigation, along with Little Johann, and Niallus Scarlet, accompanied by the two swamp dragons. Unable to pronounce their names, she settled on the merry monikers of Masha and Misha.
Deciding to keep her distance from the group, Oksana reasoned hanging back made sense as it made her look inconspicuous, rather than accompanying them directly as part of a motley crew. Besides, she could easily keep track of them, as they stood out like sore thumbs like this, with many people giving them a wide berth. Opting for a natural approach to gathering information, she engaged in routine inquiries while sought property in the area.
Her first stop was the Buudvuud restaurant. The aroma of the food assaulted her senses as she looked hungrily through the shutters at the wide selection before her. Her eyes settled on a juicy, cheese-filled parcel topped with melted cheese, oogling how the strands of between the slices stretched like long thin strings. The appearance and the smell definitely beat anything from Vossoriya as she bartered with the teen behind the counter using the Cheburashka Jamboi method of diligently counting out bennies in a slow manner until he was satisfied with the amount. Taking her prize, she eagerly took a big bite, only to find her mouth filled with steaming hot cheese, almost scalding herself if she hadn’t quickly drawn back. She blew gently on it as she devoured it outside the shop.
While eating, she noticed others looking in her direction, speaking in hushed tones. Originally thought it was about her, but soon realized they were addressing the shop. Approaching a nearby couple, she inquired about the food. Though not understanding their gestures entirely, she gathered that the shop was deemed unsavory. It seemed to be a bad place with bad people. Despite the service being decent, the teen boy was that not terrible, only greasy looking, she asked if there were alternative places she could visit in the future, but there was no such luck as they muttered something and left. It seemed this particular establishment had a monopoly on tasty cheesy slices.
Continuing her inquiries, Oksana asked about the local area, focusing on important details like whose palms needed greasing and who and where to watch out for. She encountered varying responses, from quiet reluctance to share information, to attempts to extract wealth from her. Some were stubborn in their stance, others were eager to express their opinions to an audience. A lot of locals expressed sentiments against refugees, a sentiment she had encountered before in her past, but noted they made it clear that she was more welcome than others, with comments like ‘knife-ears’ presumably directed at Yasoi. When attempting to speak to the yasoi, she found them less understanding and suspicious, but managed to tease out some names to watch out for due to recent negative experienced. A big player was the Rollers, a group of Yasoi who made a lot of dough, and renown for their beatings. With the indicated hand gestures, she assumed the name came from their rolling pins used in baking. They seemed to have a connection with a group called the Paws, a group of human animal lovers who behaved similarly to their namesake, known for being woof in their dealings. Across town, there were the Boozers, known for frequenting beer halls and causing trouble as they grew rowdy due to alcohol.
She discovered that the Flying Lion had a notorious reputation for various incidents recently, finding herself surprised as she couldn't recall any disturbances outside of her own bedroom whilst she stayed at the tavern. Delving deeper, she uncovered that the establishment had undergone a transformation, previously known as the Crying Lion before being acquired by the Arslan-Mercador company. Intriguingly, the confusion was because locals had taken it upon themselves to repurpose horse stables near the port, laying the stonewalls as a foundation for a new establishment painted in goluboy hues, aptly named the Cryin’ Cyan. Its proximity to the port allowed it to serve as a hub for backdoor activities, including under-the-table jobs and smuggling. It was also a hotbed of political activism amongst the yasoi, with some striving to amass funds to topple Tarlonese dominance, whilst those on the bottom rungs of society were only out for themselves.
During her investigation, Oksana was surprised to hear talk of Penny, her one-legged friend, as her incident during Mano e Mano challenge has led to urban myths that she is rumoured to be making visits to Belleville, allegedly for summoning aberrations over the town, including a recent large one at the tavern.
Eventually, she caught up with the others after receiving a tethered tug signal from Captain Skugvaar. They surrounded a property where the owner of the missing finger was located. Oksana suggested she could knock on the door with the finger and offer to bind it back on the hand, though her idea was not popular with the others. Instead, she was sent around the back of the building and to blend in, with the goal to catch any escapees by surprise. She followed the instructions, leaving negotiations to the experts in the motley crew.
As the attackers lunged forward, Ashon smoothly stepped back, his tailored suit rippling with his movements. With a flick of his wrist, he launched a small purse of coins at the nearest assailant, the bag bursting open upon impact, showering the thief with a cascade of copper.
He spun around gracefully, the large money bag held firmly in his hand like a seasoned duellist wielding a rapier. Ka-ching! The sound of the clunk of coins made as the bag connected with the head of another thug, sending him stumbling backward. The sound of clinking coins filled the air as the bag swung through the melee, each strike precise as he bludgeoned their foe.
Ashon straightened his jacket with a flourish, as he surveyed the surrounding chaos with a critical eye. "Manners maketh a Moila," he declared loudly, the condescending smirk played on his lips as his voice carried above the commotion. With a swift movement, he used the bag to uppercut one of the thugs before bringing it down on the back of his head. "Stay down, Tem’broa," he chided, his tone dripping with disdain. He kicked the thug as he rolled into a puddle, using him as a makeshift bridge to keep his feet dry as he approached his dear wife.
Turning to Seviin with an elegant bow, Ashon extended his hand to hers, his eyes sparkled as he drew her close. "Please, don't cry, my Eluulan," he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to her fingertips.
"Man servant," he called out as he addressed Xiuyang with a regal air, "Once you have dealt with these ruffians, please ensure the ashes are secure. If you make my dearest raise her voice again, I'll dock your pay." He clicked his fingers imperiously, the sound cracked in the air. "You may leave the coin; I will find a new levy to enact."
Having a little too much fun committing to the bit, there. "Man-servant..." Xiuyang thought irritably. Well, she certainly was in the process of "dealing with" the ruffians, but seeing as one of her allies had deemed it fit to nearly behead one of them with a bullet, she began drawing to enhance her threat... and prepare for an unnecessarily drawn-out battle that was likely about to happen.
The fight was not much of a fight, but a one-sided affair. Two of the thugs fled the scene whilst two were left, the Eeaiko that was victim to a gun wound, and a Yasoi being held at a sharp point. The other two broke their cover as it was up to the others to cover for them.
Ashon sauntered over to where Dory and Lunara stood, their captive yasoi bandit held at knife point. With a theatrical flourish, he clapped his hands together and spread them in a welcoming gesture. "Ersandenisers!" he exclaimed, gesturing towards the shiny weapons gripped tightly in their hands. "Are these rewards from your trials? Expensive, shiny, toduul. Eager to use such toys. Want to do your good deeds for House points, luuca?" He gave a wide mocking smile to the crowd, “Five points each to Hunghorasz!”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out two coin purses, pressing one into each of their hands. Then, with a casual pat on the head of the yasoi bandit and a clip around his ear hole, he addressed them once more. "This is my jexoff moila, and he will help me find my Hyc'oilan. Leave this matter to Belle'soi." He politely indicated them to run along now.
He clicked his fingers loudly as he summoned his man servant. “He may be suffering from amnesia, we might have to prompt his memory.” He dangled a coin purse by his eye, and on the other side, is the imposing skull mask of Xiuyang.
As for the two Ersandenise, that is up to them to decide what they will do.
It had been a while since Ayla last saw Raffaella, and for some reason, the girl kept occupying her thoughts. She wondered what she was up to, how the kitties were doing, and as she passed by some sweets, she wondered if Raffie would enjoy them. She was certainly fond of the girl, though every time Raffie came to mind, all she could remember was that embarrassing scene where she fed her, recalling how happy Raffie looked. It made Ayla feel horrible, as if she was a monster. It was even worse when she bumped into Raffie at the Soiree, and the conversation seemed to revolve around Asier this, Asier that. Ayla tuned out of the conversation and couldn't bring herself to confess the truth.
She knew what she must do: invite Raffie out for a date. Ayla wanted to sit her down, clear the air, and address all those embarrassing misunderstandings. It was time to face the truth, and she hoped Raffie would be as sweet and forgiving as she looked.
Ayla proceeded to write a handwritten invitation for the two of them to meet up at the local Zenobucks, kitties welcomed.
"Kitties welcome, huh?" Raffaella pondered as she read her one and only letter that wasn't a piece of "fan mail." Well, it was a private invitation, but Ayla was actually a friend, so this was a special exception☆
"I guess a coffee shop can't be that bad if they allow kitties, and sell sweets~" she decided as she jogged on over to the local Zenobucks, her Zaqhorian Sphinx hot on her hot pink heels.
"Heya Ayla~" she chirped as she burst through the door, her chatty Sphinx sauntering over to Ayla's table, "mrrp-mrrping" as he went.
Ayla smiled widely as the kitty was excited to meet them, her own Zaqhorian Sphinx, Gisele, excitedly met with her brother as they purred happily together. She waved excitedly toward Raffie as she called her over, with a coffee and plate of different vibrant-coloured macaroons ripe for the picking.
Ayla hopped from her chair as she went to give her friend a hug, “Wow, have you got taller since we last met?” She compared the height, then realized she was wearing hot pink heels, giggling a little.
“We are very pleased that you came,” she indicated towards the table for them to sit together.
Raffie spoiled Gisele with back scritches as the siblings nuzzled each other. Then, she turned to Ayla to give her friend her requisite hug. "Ahaha, nope~ I haven't gotten taller in years." Staying still as Ayla compared their heights, they were almost exactly the same, with Raffie having the advantage of heels. "Heehee~! I'm so happy you're the same, Ayla. People are acting so weird lately. It's all... how would you say? There's this... frosty layer of doom and gloom." She popped a pastel pink macaroon into her mouth and smiled.
Ayla enjoyed seeing the girl, a smile spreading, "Is pink your favourite colour? You always look very pretty in it." She made sure to greet her sphinx warmly with scritches too, then left the pair of siblings together as she indicated to the seats. "We agree, it is nice to share a pleasant moment together." She went to sit at the table, noticing a pink macaroon on her own plate, "Oh, we have one here too!" She picked it up instinctively and enthusiastically brought it to Raffie's lips, then felt a light blush grow on her cheeks as she realized what she just did.
Raffie looked around the cafe, with shifty eyes. Then, she leaned in towards Ayla. "Just between you and me... it's red. Don't tell anyone!" she insisted, hastily shushing her dining partner to emphasize the point. Nomming the pink macaroon, she smiled. Of course, that wasn't what she'd told "Asier."
Ayla mouthed an "oh" as she instinctively twirled a finger through her red hair. "Mine is blue," she said, and as she spoke, it seemed like her sapphire blue eyes sparkled much like Raffie's usually did. She fidgeted with her fingers for a moment before focusing on the macaroons again, spotting a blue one. "These are blueberry flavoured, we hope you find them to be pleasant." She brought it to Raffie's lips again, almost without thinking. The problem was, she was thinking too much about a certain boy herself.
Raffie paused as Ayla went to feed her a third macaroon, when she herself had none yet. Woah. Déjà vu, she thought, suddenly keenly aware of Ayla's posture as she was feeding her. She picked up a blue macaroon and held it out to Ayla. "You tell me!" She grinned.
Ayla felt her cheeks redden as she leaned forward to take a tentative bite of the blueberry macaron. It was delicious; after all, she did her best when baking them. Her lips spread wider as they enclosed around the snack, and inadvertently, one of Raffie's digits, which she released after a light suckle on the tip of it. She quickly fetched a napkin to her lips and covered her mouth, looking away shyly. "It is... delicious," she mumbled.
"Mhm, cute," she agreed, narrowing her eyes deviously. Then, after about five solid seconds, she realized what she said. Her cheeks turned pink, but she decided to pretend not to notice that she misspoke. "So! Um... What did you do after the party? Sorry for leaving so suddenly. I tried to talk to someone and uh, it didn't go well, you could say."
Ayla felt that funny fluttering feeling, especially as she was confronted with such a question. "No, that's okay. We tried to speak with someone too, and we were left with mixed feelings," she said, her voice slightly shaky. She moved her hand to hold onto Raffie's for a moment, seeking comfort in the touch, then continued, "We need your advice."
She started to fidget with the held hand, her nerves palpable. "You know, like those stories where the hero is in disguise, and they fall in love with a girl? Have you ever considered what happened afterwards? Maybe the hero really loved her, but could she accept him for who he is, or did he simply abandon her, return to his job, and leave her heartbroken? What if she didn't recognize him, and they became close again? Should he tell her the truth?"
She breathed out, releasing Raffie's hand, her eyes searching for understanding."This dilemma is vexing us. The novels do not cover what one should do in these circumstances."
Raffie tilted her head, chin perched on her free wrist as Ayla confided in her. Huuh. So that's how it is. Another girl who likes girls. Constantians sure are bold... asking a Virangish girl for advice. Is this what it feels like to be a big sister? she mused. I would've been a good older sister. Thanks, worthless dad of mine. She smiled as always while she brushed away the thought. "Oh, Ayla," Raffaella sighed as she squeezed the girl's hand fondly. She's soo~ obvious. I can feel her heartbeat through her fingers. Maidens in love are so adorable☆
"If you wanted me to pray for your success in love, you didn't need to bribe me with sweets." She smiled warmly, and before Ayla could protest, the rosary was on the table, and she was speaking Virangish faster than Ayla could follow. Before she knew it, the ritual was done, and she'd tucked the rosary back into the collar of her dress.
"A secret love is no good! Love takes many forms, but it's only beautiful if both parties are aware and accepting of it, you know? Besides, if you don't confess, she'll be swept off her feet by someone else before you know it." She nodded sagely. "If you were only hiding who you were, and not who you were, then it's no wonder you still got close to them, yeah? So it's easy to just tell them. But if you were pretending to be something you're not, you'll have to beg forgiveness and a chance to start over. Otherwise, if she still thinks that person exists, not only are you living a lie, you're competing with yourself." She squeezed Ayla's hand once more before letting go. "That's what I think." She smiled.
Ayla paused for a moment, feeling frozen and flustered. "No, you misunderstood. We knew you read romance novels," she clarified, her voice slightly shaky. She held the girl's hand for a moment, then let go, a nervous habit of hers. "Perhaps we should have been clearer from the start."
She moved her hand to scratch the sphinx cat behind its ears, seeking some comfort in the familiar action as the cat nudged its head against her hand. Taking a deep breath, she decided to be more direct. "Raffie, call it intuition, but you like Asier, right?" She looked into Raffie's sparkling eyes as she asked the question directly.
Raffie searched Ayla's eyes and pondered. "Ooh? So he was smitten after all, and he never left Ersand'Enise. This friend of yours." She nodded along as she put the pieces together. "He's a sweet boy. And a gentleman. But like him, I don't really have the luxury of choosing who I get to marry." She smiled apologetically to Ayla, thinking she would be the bearer of bad news to the man. "Well, that's how it is. The adults who 'know better' are gonna tell us what to do." Even as she said it, she didn't seem particularly bothered by the notion.
"Well, not quite," Ayla began, her voice soft as she moved her hands to hold Raffie's. "We're sorry we lied to you. We didn't know how to tell you, but…" She released one hand to flick her red hair to the side, a nervous gesture. "We are Asier." She squeezed Raffie's hands gently, her eyes pleading for forgiveness. "You've become important to me since that day, and as we've got to know each other better, we didn't want this to be a thing between us. After all, who else enjoys sweets and likes cats almost as much as we do?"
Raffaella's eyes widened, and they seemed uncharacteristically cold—even a bit distant, as though she were thinking about something else entirely.
"No. Outside! Now!"
"But he's hurt! Someone kicked him!"
"We're NOT keeping him. Put him out!"
"HE'LL STARVE!"
"SO WILL YOU IF YOU DON'T DO AS I SAY!"
Little Raffie's blood ran cold. Her eyes turned cold. Her heart shriveled like a prune as she realized this hell of an orphanage had drained her soul dry as the street on a Dorrad day. The cat mewled in protest as it was placed outside in the rain, unable to stand up on its own legs. Raffie placed it on the red stones. She remembered the red stones vividly. She knew the stones had always been a dull grey.
The sound went on for what felt like hours. It was horrible. At some point, the nun returned to the door, giving little Raffie some fleeting hope before the cat went quiet mid-cry. When she thought she had no more tears to cry, she quietly sobbed for hours after that. How could she be so cruel? She should have taken the cat and run away with it—such was the mind of a child. In reality, she had no options.
It's a bitch-eat-bitch world, kiddo. Raffaella pitied little Raffie as she reminisced. For just a moment, she imagined that fossil of a nun sitting across from her. It's just a fucking cat, you fat whore. Probably would've eaten less in a month than you do on a Victendes, if it outlived you.
"...Who doesn't like cats? I might have to kick their butt," Raffie said, deadpan. After a moment, she shook her head and snapped out of it, getting back to the point of the conversation. "Yeah, I kinda got it. You were just wa~y too similar. Besides, normal boys aren't that cu— anyway. I didn't think the girl was me."
She smiled sadly, averting her eyes, obviously unsure how to respond to the confession. It was all fun and games to be confessed to by some random boy and turn him down gently, but a sincere and heartfelt confession from Ayla..? It's me who's pretending to be something I'm not. We're nothing alike. ...You're what I wanted to be.
Cute—innocent—kind—all traits this world had strangled out of her. Yet, if you didn't at least pretend to have them, no one would want you. Beneath the mask, some vile part of her was brimming with ideas for how she might use Ayla's crush for advantage—but Ayla was so very much like the girl she used to be. It was unconscionable, even monstrous.
"Hey, so... If you're Asier, then that means you're engaged, right? We're, uh, pretty much in the same boat, huh." She looked everywhere but at Ayla, afraid of her eyes, afraid to catch a glimpse of that crushing disappointment she regularly saw in the mirror. "Anyway, I'm not mad. I just..." she trailed off, not finding the words.
Ayla squeezed Raffie’s hand warmly, their fingers interlocked, and she gave her a big smile, releasing a sigh of relief. “We have been so terribly guilty about wronging you. It's a relief that you are still open to being with me.” She realized she now had a good friend to talk to about that experience with, too. “We agree, he was kind of cute, but looked too much like my brother for my tastes. We never knew it would be so awkward being a man as well. It was like you suddenly had to become emotionally stilted. And the cheek of that waiter! Giving us a menu without prices on, unless you are a man. We had thought all the menus were like that.” She shook her head in disapproval.
Ayla nodded as they discussed engagements. “Unfortunately so. Looking for an excuse to break it though. Perhaps we could become a Zeno, and it would be a convenient excuse to disentangle myself from any political arrangements.” She popped one of the macaroons in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “There's no love in this arrangement. Outside perfunctory gifts and letters, there's nothing there. We have only met him once. But by Ipte, we are not going to live our life without love.” She leaned in towards Raffie, as if sharing a secret. “We think he is a friend of Tku,” she said, bending her hand at the wrist before sitting back. “He spends all his time travelling the world. Perhaps we should try to introduce them.”
She continued to hold her friend's hand, cherishing the gentle connection between them as she smiled. It was comforting to be in Raffie’s company. Ayla saw a little bit of herself in there, and she would have loved a sister like her, rather than the vapid real one she had. Ayla continued to shine brightly towards her friend.
Raffaella sighed. Why, Oraff? Why are girls so cruel? She felt Ayla's heartbeat through her fingers and returned a little squeeze. Why do we both act like we don't know how this ends?
"Hehe. It's mostly the high-end places that are like that, where girls expect to eat for free."
Why did you say that? She can't know you came from the streets. No one can know.
"Well, I've just heard the cheaper places are different. My maid told me about it!" She cracked a faux childish grin, as if she knew something most people didn't.
A 'friend of Tku' sounds like a euphemism. Do I want to know? She pondered, quirked a brow, and shrugged. "Huuh. You're ambitious. I could never be a Zeno. ...Do you hate him?" she asked curiously.
Ayla leaned back and giggled for a moment, "The market vendors, you have to barter with them, and the more well-dressed you are, the higher the price goes up." A smile appeared on her lips, "Maura knew how to get the best deals, though. Every time they tried to overcharge her, she would remark how her father must have been selling to them too cheaply. They adjusted their prices accordingly when she was around."
She returned to the other matter, "No, we don’t hate him. He hasn’t done anything to deserve that." With a squeeze of the hand, she asked, "What about yourself?"
"Ooh. I've never had to haggle before... Show me sometime~?" she lied pleasantly. Well, if you're going that far down the social ladder, you can get anything for free if you look cute and pathetic enough, she reminisced, but said nothing. The wealthy get stuff for free all the time, too. Who knew there was symmetry at the top and bottom, she pondered, amused. What she ironically couldn't realize was that being at the top would leave her with just another kind of unhappiness.
Even if she couldn't reveal everything about herself, just listening to this girl talk was surprisingly fun—such were her thoughts when the question was returned to her. "Mm. I suppose I'll probably be engaged to someone by the end of our year of Ipte, and I'll have to try to find a way to like him." It seemed she intended to take her own advice, the advice meant for "Asier." "Getting away from politics really isn't an option for me."
Her mind wandered, first to her first crush, and where he was now as an adult. Probably drunk in a ditch somewhere, like the rest of them, she unceremoniously decided. He'd got what he deserved. Then, she wondered if Ayla had been part of the limited audience who saw her last few matches in Mano e Mano.
Ayla blushed a little. “No, no, we are terrible at haggling. We always fall for all those sob stories they give us. It's cruel that they use such tales to tell a lie.” She shook her head. “Maura is better. She can appraise an item for its true worth, considering things like material, labour, and market rates.” She made a motion indicative of her dislike for such things. “We just act pretty with flowery, well-intentioned words. It tends to work most of the time. More of a big picture approach person, rather than getting bogged down in the details.”
She smiled as Raffiie spoke of engagement. “They would be very lucky to have you. They are in for a real catch,” she gave her a playful wink, cheering her friend along. “Everything is about politics in our situation. The idea of simply being poor and being with the one you love, as Ipte intended, is nice.”
"Mmnheehee." Raffie grinned and giggled. She couldn't help her weakness to flattery. The next statement brought her back to the conversation at hand, however. "What's so romantic about being poor with the one you love? What about being rich with someone you get along with? Or just having both? It's like romance writers have no ambition." She pursed her lips in a playful pout to disguise a more genuine emotion she felt towards the topic. It occurred to her that she had barely touched the macaroons, but by now it was getting awkward. If she reached for one now, it might seem like she was getting bored and, for some reason, she was feeling extra considerate toward Ayla today.
Ayla simply smiled at Raffie’s comments. “Rich and in love is certainly the best outcome,” her eyes sparkled as she bared her teeth, “but those poets say that love is worth more than money, power, and the rest of it. Very romantic.”
She noticed Raffie’s eyes glancing toward the macarons, yet she didn't move to help herself. Is she waiting for us to do it? She picked up one of the colourful mouthfuls and brought it to the girl's lips. “We have been spoiling you, clearly. Eat up.” She pressed the treat to her lips, grinning widely in a teasing manner.
Raffaella chose not to dignify Ayla's naive optimism with a response, leaving the topic with a skeptical cheek puff. As if she had read her mind, Ayla offered another macaroon, and Raffie again found herself indulging. "Neu, I wuz jush... haffing fun," she admitted, averting her gaze.
The moment Marz had made it to shore and built the sand bunker wall, he sat behind it as he saw everyone else begin to set to work. Marz took the moment to rest as he began to check if he had everything on him. He had his clothing, his armor, his tools, his hammer. Marz nodded to himself as he began to unstrap his bag from his back. It was a mostly sealed bag, there were however some places water could get in.
And sadly it did.
Marz began to empty out his bag to see that water had filled it completely. He saw his multiple bottles were sealed tightly enough that water seemed not to leak in. Yet his other items seemed not so fortunate, his extra clothing, papers, calligraphy tools, and even the spare food he brought were all drenched in the salty brine of the sea. Marz took in a breath and then cursed something foul.
He never liked the water. He tolerated it at best. Yet he was plunged directly into it and got all of his nice things wet.
He began to shake his head and gathered his things. He bound the sand together with binding and magnetic magic to form a solid almost rock-like surface as he used it as a place to begin to dry them with arcane and chemical magic. He began to target the water molecules on the outside of his things and began to evaporate them quickly. After this, he began to create a bone-dry surface that would absorb the water from the things to dry them more quickly. Once finished he stood up and began to look around. Which leads to him finding the strange boats. They were simple in make and nature. A product of their environment and use Marz could tell. With even the cannons being hastily and haphazardly placed upon them, these were boarding vessels by nature. Yet from the cannons' mountings, it must mean that they are preparing to fight what seems to be the interlopers of the sea here.
It was not long from this time Marz, much like the rest of the group, was met with the locals. Mahal was the first to find them, and they seemed well enough. From what Marz understood, some were to be guided to meet with their leader. While those who wish to build what Maura brought, should do so from beyond the tree line. Marz nodded his head, "Fair enough". Marz began to collect his things as the locals seemed nonhostile, he would prefer not to have to fight them. It was not why he was here, and he'd prefer to do what he needed for the job and nothing more.
Once Marz retrieved his things, he returned to the boxes Maura brought and was greeted to...no one.
Everyone else seemed to have run off to interact with the locals and left him with the task of building what Maura brought.
All on his own.
"Gurg Lagh'e", left Marz's mouth with such vitriol, that even if no one knew what he said, they knew what he meant.
After Marz had spent the better part of his time building the strange contraption that Maura brought, he wasn't quite finished with the work. The beast must have been broken down in such strange ways to allow it to be transported in crates that Marz was essentially rebuilding it from the ground up. Magic may have been the greatest gift the gods have given to crafters, yet it did not make the process any less tedious.
Marz was somewhere near half of the monstrous contraption being rebuilt when he was fed up. He kicked a rock hard enough to launch it through one of the metal sheets before he dropped to the ground with a loud thud. He had sat down and began to look off in the distance, there he could see toward the encampment and see the bonfire, some laughter could be heard as Marz took up his bag.
Marz began to walk out of the treeline where multiple of the men around the campfire took notice. They looked to him as if scanning Marz, many assumed he would have been off doing gods knows what. Yet there stood a man, whom many assumed was easily twice their senior based upon Marz's facial hair, some gave a little respect, while others did not care. An older man, who had a beard much as magnificent as Marz's own, gestured for him to come over.
"What want?", the man's words were choppy, his voice was low and rough, yet even in a normal conversation, seemed to bellow out with such power that it reverberated in the chest.
Marz opened up his bag, pulling out a clay bottle, "Make friend?" A silent look was shared between the two. The man asked with a raised eyebrow, "Fire Water?"
Marz's smile grew large as he nodded and said, "Hotter than sun".
The two bearded men looked at each other, smiling wide as they said, "Friend".
There now stood a gathering of over 30 men dancing around a large roaring fire. Each one flushed with loose swaying and speaking with slow and slurred voices. Marz had brought out one clay bottle as the first to take a drink was Marz's new friend. Even though the man stood a solid 6 feet and had a gut as wide as a sail, the moment he took a single swig of the drink, it was over. The man's eyes bulged, his nostrils flared open, and his eyes began to water. He took it down, however, it burned so much it felt like drinking boiling water. He coughed for a good few moments, as multiple of the men stood up, thinking Marz had just poisoned him. Yet a moment later the man bellowed out such a hearty laugh that it shook multiple people from their makeshift seats.
He stood up and slapped Marz in the back so hard it sounded like a drum just sounded. He began to laugh as he walked over and began passing the drink around to the others. Another man walked over to Marz, somewhat of a younger man, however, he adorns himself somewhat differently from the others. He seemed to be covered in multiple large tattoos, and carried on his hip a blade, unlike the others around him, which many carried different yet much less intensive weapons to make. Very little metal seemed to be used, so the single blade on his hip must have been important. The man spoke more softly than the loud and almost roaring men who surrounded the fire, yet he had his own presence, as he spoke with a little better Avincian, yet it was possible in this situation, "Hello, I am, Kai, Pa'aori".
The man seemed somewhat happy to see he is able to speak with someone who could speak Avincian. Marz answered while inspecting him more, "I am Marz-", Marz began to hear around him the sounds of people talking about them, he heard multiple of them say the same thing, Pa'aori. Marz assumed it was some kind of title rather than just some piece of a greeting. "Grand Smith".
kai's face lit up as he heard the word grand. Marz took it as he knew what the word meant but not the full context of the word yet it must have been some kind of significant meaning. Kai nodded vigorously, "I, am grand, gifted". Kai continued to nod, very proud of both his speaking and his status as 'grand gifted'. Marz takes this as him being able to use magic, and must be filling some kind of spiritual role as a person able to use magic to a greater degree than others through either some rite or training.
Marz nodded as he pulled out another bottle, "Pa'aori, drink?" Marz offered to Kai as a gesture of good faith. Kai waved his hand in front of him to decline, "No, no drink. Fight. No drink". Kai declined in a way that made Marz find to be somewhat loose. Kai must be a good Pa'aori, yet Marz had other ideas, as he spoke in a somewhat saddened voice, "No friend?"
Kai waved his hands in front of him now flustered as he tried to right what happened, "No. No. No Friend. I mean. No-". Kai began to stutter as he seemed to stutter and flutter as he realized that he wasn't saying the right things. It was then a loud bellowing laugh came from behind Marz, "Pa'aori, no friend?". Kai continued to get more flustered as they two began to speak and exchange in a conversation. Marz could not tell what was being spoken, however from what Marz saw the giant of a man had a smile as wide as the sea as he flustered Kai more and more.
It was then both bearded men spoke in unison, a shadow almost casting over their faces as all that could be seen was their smiles, "Friend?".
Kai looked at the bottle, he knew he shouldn't. They shouldn't be drinking, not before a fight. However, this was out of diplomacy's sake, right? Just one drink was okay.
Right?
There standing on top of multiple trees, on a platform was made using wood, and the leaves were hardened and bound by magic to make a platform, Kai. His face is completely red and flushed, covered by a wooden mask that Marz made from some of the wood using his 'Grand Smithing'. He stood above a crowd of over 60 men as he stepped forward and roared with such a voice that it could almost be mistaken for cannon fire. He slapped his chest as he began to chant and stamp as many of the men below him began to follow in unison. They yelled sloppily, yet loudly and with enough power to feel the sand beneath their feet shake and shift.
It seemed as if he was performing some kind of grand ceremony. Many chanted on, maybe something like a war dance. Or possibly a giant shared drunken moment that will live long into memory as it will go down in infamy why you do not take a drink from a short bearded child. In any case, Marz joined in, yet soon was picked up by some of the other men as they began to parade him around, calling him by some title, Ahi'pu.
The chanting and roaring continued as Marz supplied them with strong enough booze to kill a dragon.
And they drank it up like a beggar sitting next to a forge.
In the Company of Warriors Date: 19th of Velles, Victendes Time: After Dusk Location: Pelolia Village island, Moatu Suva
Wandering over to Prince Tamatoa's group, Mahal thought about their little encounter earlier. While chasing the girl, she didn't see them until a sonic blast was cast. She was too slow and it nicked her. Mahal didn't think when she whipped a fireball back at the source. No one was there, but more warriors appeared. They quickly outnumbered her. With daggers still drawn, she boosted herself with the Gift and bolted off. Despite her best efforts to lose them, they forced her back to the shore. Things settled down after that.
Her eyes darted down to the wound on her leg. Despite its freshness, it looked older. She was thankful for her mana type now. Her eyes lifted up when the men's voices grew louder. Drawing to the edge of the group, she folded up her legs and sat down to listen.
As Mahal sat at Tamatoa's fire, some of the others caused a bit of commotion giving the Palapar girl the distinct impression she had broken some unknown courtesy or tradition. However, the prince is quick to settle them, they had not been the ones with him by the shore and didn't know the context. He stood, walked over to her, and sat beside her.
"An apology is mine to make," he spoke semi-formally but it wasn't difficult to find guilt in his eyes. "Had I known you to be a countrywoman, I would have never attacked. But tonight isn't one that rewards hesitation, not when my little sister was on the line." As if to mark his point the sounds of cannon fire followed not too soon after. The sounds of people who presented a very real danger.
Mahal's temper flared when the men became agitated. Her form tensed and her jaw clenched, venomous words formed on the tip of her tongue. Before she spoke, the prince acted and calmed them. Her eyes watched him until he settled down beside her. She relaxed upon hearing her native tongue being uttered. While she was decent at Avincian, she still struggled with it.
She clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Tch. Why apology for your actions? For all you knew, I was a threat and protecting family is not wrong." Her leg stretched out, letting the fire illuminate the wound. "I was weak and slow so I deserved the wound. It is already healing, see?"
"I don't apologise for my choices, only their outcomes" Tamatoa corrected her. "It is the duty of a warrior to fight for what is worth protecting. But it is also their obligation to correct harm caused where it wasn't intended." He spoke those words not as a man who understood them to be his own, but a boy reciting them and still trying to understand their full meaning. "My binding is... in development. But I should be able to help that, if you'll allow me to correct the mistake." He pointed to the leg wound.
Reaching into her hip pouch, she retrieved something pinkish white and covered in red. A raw chicken bone dusted with spices. "I am more concerned about your behavior toward the Eeaiko of my group. She has done nothing wrong, yet you act as if she has insulted you or done worse. Why? "
He frowned when she brought up the Eeaiko. "You would hold some odd looks in higher regard than your own health? Don't be foolish."
This felt awkward and wrong in a way she couldn't explain. Mahal expected this type of reaction from Lunara or even Salim. Not a stranger and especially not someone stronger. She popped the bone into her mouth, letting her teeth crunch it into smaller chunks. It gave her moment to calm her frustration. Once she swallowed, she spoke again.
"I think the same of you. I have had endured far worse than this and I heal quicker than most. " Her eyes shifted, recalling her tattoo hiding the facts she spoke of. Sonic blast was far better to heal from than thunderbolt at least. "However, since you insist I won't stop you. "
She shifted her leg closer to him while changing the topic. "The wreck seems to have collected a lot of unwanted attention. Enough to push the school into sending us."
"Thank you." Tamatoa place his hands on her leg and began healing. Perhaps in other cultures, this would have earned jokes or the odd laugh from the other warriors. That a such a simple and unnecessary act of kindness was performed by their leader. This was not the case.
He gave a stern look of worry to Mahal as she ate the bone, completely pausing his healing efforts. But he laughed it off once it sunk in that the girl fully intended to do that and it was beneficial. The Prince had never seen the Glutton mana type before.
"You're right about the wreck. First the pirates come, then the Virangish no far behind." Mahal might have picked up a further dip in the Princes mood, as if he held the Virangish in lower standing than the pirates. "And we are left to sit here, doing nothing while their stray cannon shots destroy our home."
Mahal didn't react to the Prince's look, though it made her self aware. She had struggled with her monstrous appetite since her Gift manifested. Over the years, she found ways to deal with it that included meat and insect rich meals to season bones. Her eyes glanced over her leg, checking it more out of habit than distrust. Not bad, she thought.
She gritted her teeth at the mention of the Virangish ships. They had no reason to be here, but they used their connections with Palapar to farther their own politics and power.
"Well if one comes this way, it will be sent right back where it came from." Mahal's tone sounded confident in this. Her eyes glanced back to the Prince. "Has any of your tribe been hurt or clashed with the Virangish on the island? I assume someone had to been curious about the wreckage."
Tamatoa chuckled a little and waved off her question. "No, no, the Virangish prefer to hide behind their treaties. That way they can keep believing they are in the right. They wouldn't fight us for no reason."
"What they have hurt is our pride." The Prince's face was stern and his voice picked up. Mahal no longer got the impression that his words were solely directed at her, but all those at the fire. The other young warriors made their agreements known. "We have had no problems fighting pirates off in the past. But it is only now that there is something valuable on our shores that the Virangish show up and insist on providing their protection. This battle could have been over. But now we sit on the shore doing nothing. Nothing! While they pillage our shores under that protectorate facade. All allowed for by the treaty the mainland signed." The Prince fought back the urge to spit.
Just then a warrior girl around Mahal's age came running from the shoreline with a hurry. "Prince Tamatoa! There are others coming to shore. They look to be Virangish."
In reply, the Prince rose with his spear. "Then we go out to meet them." He looked back to Mahal and appeared as though he was going to ask her to join. But then he stopped himself and thought something over.
"Mahal, you stay here." Then he left with the others before he could give a reason why.
Mahal had been asked to remain at the fire. But was she really going to?
The answer that was simple: No... Why would you ask that? Mahal tensed at the Prince's request. She had already pulled up onto her feet when the others started to rush into the thick of the jungle. He thought she was weak. The belief sliced through her like obsidian through flesh, her pride bleeding a bit. Instead of listening, she drew in energy and silenced her footsteps. She rushed toward the shore after them.
The shadows of the high mountains have started to cast over the city, reaching even the furthest wharf. Most portmen had finished and those with duties still in need of tending lit candles and torches to guide them through the later hours of Eshiran. With the calming of the port, the people of Zengali and its visitors could hear the eerie waves of the ocean. It had been a long time since the ocean held the admiration of the people here. Now the dull waters of the port just served as a reminder of the monster that stripped the spirit from Zengali.
But not all places in Zengali were so lifeless. The encampment of this morning hung with the stench of death and despair. Many have rescinded their lives to Ahn-Eshiran’s hands, only hoping they will be the lucky ones to receive her mercy from the plague that attached itself to them. But as quick as the plague came to them, even quicker was it dispelled by one man and his heavenly song. Never have they heard a sound so comforting as they did from the Sun King that day. Some recited the menana, as it was the only words that could describe the relief they had been given. Many cried as he pulled them from the hands of Eshiran. For the common man, one not blessed by the gift or lady luck, to be saved was a rarity and for all of them was unheard of. Countless blessings were given to the Sun King that day and many started to sing to show their newfound health.
Their spirit was infectious, spreading the good word through the town until it reached Alberta’s ears. She hadn’t felt such relief since Raimy convinced his father to give them proper shelter on dry land. As she confirmed what they had heard, a resurgence of energy took place in the Revidian’s heart, soaring them to work harder and bring back that classic Revidian spirit. Enough to give some back to the people who had long endured the thresher’s threat. The festival was set to be a lively one with the remnants of the fleet ready to celebrate their 2nd escape from Ahn-Eshiran.
Elsewhere on the docks was a very different scene. One that played out more times than the wharfmaster would like to count. Zarina had portaled to the very dock Keanjano and herself set off from. Her clothes were tattered over part of her abdomen and the color of her skin ran cold. She came not with the lively crew she went there with but instead just 2 men, Daoud and Kilik, and a notebook Keanjaho gave his life for. The first thing Zarina saw was a group of Zengalians standing near the wharf they set sail from.
The sight of the portal was more than they could comprehend right away but as they did dread and tears poured from some of the women. Small children were confused about why their parents cried and why their older siblings held them so tight. Slowly, the children realized that their fathers weren’t going to return like they had. The older kids and men only let a silent anger weep from them. They were hardened to death and some only knew that the season of Oraff reeked of death.
But they rose, the mothers comforted their children the way they knew they had to. The men let the older kids know it was alright to cry. Kilik, ever the serious, did not cry for he had a duty to tell what had happened this day. Daoud, though injured, followed Kilik to tell tales of the men's bravery in the face of the beast. If there was one last story their loved one needed to hear, it was not of their death but of their life. Kilik looked towards Zarina, a young woman who had more grit and determination than he had seen. “Go find Brother Hodari and give him the notebook,” It was worded like a command but was ever so meager in that moment. He could only trust that she would.
A young woman, Amani Juma, bustled around the edge of the marketplace. Left on her own to tend to the festival stall, the girl hadn’t the time to greet her uncle at the dock. Instead, she set herself to bartering with the vendors her uncle suggested in the passing. She needed goats, fish, plantains, spices, and of course, chicken. They bartered and traded in their usual way, making jabs at each other and eventually the vendors relented and gave her some for free since she was his niece after all. She carried the stuff with her blessed gift and got to work on all the ingredients.
Some humming was heard as she sliced and diced her aromatic vegetables like onion and garlic. The fire started with a flare of arcane and the goat was tossed into brown and render. Uncle always used some kind of trick to make it go faster, she clicked her tongue and looked around to see he still was not home yet. She improvised by adding some more heat and watched it carefully before clearing the center and adding a small pot of onions, garlic, and various spices to the pool of oil at the bottom to wake them. She juggled her other duties as a cook, watching the delicate spices before a man named Hamisi hulled a large pot of crushed tomatoes over. Together they dumped it in and she adjusted it with more salt.
”Has there been any word from my uncle,” Amani asked Hamisi, worry carried not with her voice but by the way she anxiously looked about for him.
Hamisi looked apologetic, “I haven’t been anywhere near the docks since those pirates came in, sorry,” he waved off as he was also busy with the festival. She rolled her eyes and continued her duties, swearing Uncle wasn’t to get even one mahamri.
The sun was setting and his uncle hadn’t returned like he said he would. Warriors were starting to gather around to fill up on spicy stew before the performance but the drink they needed was not there. Uncle had not returned and Amani couldn’t make it. Ah, that uncle! Always telling me he would teach me but never the day I asked, she thought to herself as the warriors grew more testy. She placated them with sweet mahamri and jest whenever they were getting too rambunctious for her liking.
“Amani,” Brother Hodari spoke over the other warriors, partially silencing some of them. His usual tone was present but there was a degree of seriousness to it that she had not been accustomed to.
”Ah, Brother Hodari! It is so good to see you,” Amani quickly prepared a bowl, giving him twice the amount of goat meat in an effort to bribe him. ”Now I know why you are here but I promise you it is quick to make and you'll have it very soon,” she put her hands up in a way to hopefully stall for just a little more time.
Hodari’s face was unchanging in his stoicism but there was a moment of realization that took him, “Amani, come with me to speak,” Hodari asked but nothing ever sounded like an ask with him. Especially as he started to walk without receiving an answer.
Amani agreed and they went on a small walk outside of the marketplace, people were still around but it was much quieter. Amani grew increasingly nervous, she knew what they wanted and what they needed. With uncle missing, the marquis was sure to be angry and sent Hodari to relay his message. She was about to start to make excuses saying the winds had been stale or how he was just out but Hodari stopped it.
He placed his hand on the young woman who beamed with skill and charisma much like her uncle. Hodari had yet to speak but Amani could feel the words from his eyes. She didn’t want to hear them. She couldn’t hear the same words her uncle said to her when she was only 9. Hodari knew the pain she was bearing and said it anyway. “Your uncle Keanjaho,” Amani closed her eyes begging for him to just say he was injured or was just running late. “His ship was attacked by the thresher. His soul rests in heaven now, child.”
Amani's eyes opened as tears welled up, she wanted to protest it. It was unfair. He did so much for everyone and had so much more to give and now he is gone. She wanted to scream at Hodari for sending him but she knew it would do nothing. Her anger had no place to go. Amani wiped away the tears before they fell. There had to be more reason he was here than to deliver his passing.
And Hodari did have more news but found himself remorseful to watch another child of Zengali lose a part of themselves to the beast. It was painful for the red rezaindian to be unable to purge the world of this beast. But his heart was worn and hardened like how Amani’s would grow to be, the fact she held onto herself after her first tragedy was only a blessing of Ipte. Hodari pulled an unfamiliar notebook from his robes. With no words, he handed it over for Amani to read.
She took it and read through each page, her face stayed angry and pained and grew as she got further along in it. Amani committed each note and story Keanjaho left her. Then she got to the last day's entries, which detailed every part of their journey, the crew, Zarina, the weird foam, and a guide on how to get to the area safely. It was more thorough than anything she had seen from her uncle. It didn’t feel like her uncle.
But at the very end, 10 or 20 blank pages between the last entry was a message. It was not like the last entry. It was cluttered and unorganized. It switched between Belzagic, Avincian, Toragonese, and Virangish for little terms that he poached and used half haphazardly. It was the recipe for Maji ya Udongo. It was her uncle, a jumbled mess of dozens of words and topics to all say something that could be said in so few.
Hodari stood in silence watching the youth process the reality. He had planned on leaving but he would not leave until she would let him. But with a surprise, Amani ripped out about 5 pages from the notebook and presented it to Hodari. There was so much pain and indignation behind her eyes towards him and the Marquis but Amani no longer frowned. “Thank you, Amani,” Amani stayed quiet and returned to her stall where she started to prepare the Maji ya Udongo away from the warriors.
When reapproaching the warriors she carried a large jug, about the size of her uncle's belly, full of a spiced yellow liquid, ”Come now warriors! You can’t have a festival without Maji ya Udongo!”
Now that there was the Jug of Maji ya Undongo, Hodari, Raimy, Leon Solaire, the warriors, and performers started to march their way up to Marquis Dume’s home. Upon arrival, many women started to apply makeup for the performance and of course, Leon was no exception. Painted like the rest of the performers and oiled to shine under lantern lights. Huge wooden drums that stood as tall as 2 men were rolled up the mountain for the festival. While most performers already knew the dances and songs, Raimy was tasked with teaching the famous Sun King the same dances and when to blow his vuvuzela. Other performers were snickering at the ‘Sun King’s’ private lesson but became impressed by his speed of learning. With that, the performance was set to begin.
“Dum”
“Dum”
Two massive drums blasted a deep resonant sound over the entirety of Zengali. The bustle of the city quieted, and merchants stopped their sales as the buyers had lost interest. Parents silenced their children with hushed whispers, pointing up to the beautiful flames lit at the mountaintop. The songs of the recently cured Revidians slowed and they waited for a sight many of them would not have seen. All eyes were on the recently built pyre, tension building as they waited for the next beat of the drums
“Dum”
“Dum”
Out they came and with that a shout from none other than Marquis Dume. Loud enough for the people at the port to hear him. He spoke not words but noises that set the tone and beginning of the performance. Professional musicians within the march started to play their vuvuzelas, and quickly Raimy and Brother Hodari yelled out the same thing as the Marquis then followed all that was behind them. The horns flared again as the Marquis timed the start of the march at the next beat of the drums.
“Dum”
“Dum”
The march had started, and the Marquis was in charge of setting the pace and leading his people through. People quickly gathered around the lit road to gain a better view. The performers were tasked with a herculean task to maintain the beat and perform under the pressure of the entire city watching. The musicians played the loud instruments in a way that was almost enjoyable for their foreign guests. Then a lull in the music took place, maybe a quarter way through the parade. It felt unnatural but the look among the locals was ecstatic, reaching to their sides and raising their own, less ornate, vuvuzelas. Any poor visitor near these were pierced with the shriek of a horn. In no feasible way did it sound good. But the people nearby started to dance and sing just under the volume of the horns.
Soon the parade loosened, still led by the Marquis to keep it going, but now there was an opportunity for those in the parade and outside to express themselves. Hodari showed a fluidity to his dance and his very steps shook the ground. Children would bounce in the air with every step and would softly land. Raimy flared to torches, changing colors to create a show of fire that would captivate the imagination of those watching. Even the guests who wished to participate were allowed to do so if it did not stop the march. Though Leon was given a specific moment to wow the crowd by Raimy.
Soon the men found their way to the heart of Zengali, encircling it with dance, and yes, even more vuvuzelas. Torches from the crowd were handed to the men in the parade and Marquis Dume took center stage. The crowd and performers blared their vuvuzelas, stomping and yelling rose until it was a cacophony of sound. The energy of the people rose and rose until it came to a head and then,
“Dum”
“Dum”
The performers stopped, and the crowd quickly followed. The Marquis took a deep breath, "Zengali,” he looked at his people with pride. "We raise our songs for the people who could not sing with us!” the warriors shouted back. "We dance so that the ones below can feel that we are still here!” The crowd stomped much like the way Hodari did, shaking the very ground. "And we celebrate for the new day! Let the festival begin!”
The Parade: Even if you weren’t explicitly invited to the parade, you can participate on the sides if you are playing to the beat and not slowing it down. Magic, dance, singing, and of course, vuvuzelas are warmly welcomed here! Show your spirit and I’m sure it will be appreciated.
Footrace: After the parade entered the heart of Zengali and the festival began, you could see Hodari and some other church members handing out planks of wood painted a blueish purple. Many warriors seem to be taking them and starting to bounce and stretch. From what you can tell, it was a footrace of some kind and the planks allowed you to participate. They also seemed to be some kind of badge that allows you to climb over or go through people’s areas to take the fastest route. Anyone who wanted to join better do so before it begins. Brother Hodari promised that there will be a prize for the fastest runner.
You could hear some men whispering about how they were going to try and sneak some beer since they were ‘allowed’ to cross the brewery on the way there…
Chicken Wrangling: It is a tradition across Mezegol during a celebration to have the guest wrangle a chicken into a net for slaughter. These chickens were no ordinary hens though, they were specially bred for their beauty and attitude. Large and proud, they came in a variety of vibrant colors that would catch the eye. The most prized was a Blue chicken with feathers and speckled like the sky on a moonless night. The chicken handler warned that she was quite the feisty one and one should not challenge her half-heartedly.
There was of course one catch. The guest was only allowed to wrangle the chicken with the beautiful noise of the vuvuzela. Teams of up to 5 guests may take on the challenge together though there was pride among the Zengali people to do it with only one person. Some grumbling from the darhanic guests about the practice was to be accommodated that if you could catch it, you may instead pardon it or keep it. May your captor be kind Mr. Chicken.
The Marketplace was the heart of Zengali and it was in full swing with singing and dancing. It was the hub of activity for the festival and as such, many vendors stood near it. Food vendors handed away food for the festival goers, always free for the first taste but more would cost you. There, you may have found many spry visitors using this time to meet in a less critical way, one could even find party lines being crossed by the beat of the drums and squeals of a horn. Raimy could be found celebrating with the warriors, speaking in a way unbefitting his mild-mannered self. Though he was with a group of men, he seemed to glance over to a Revidian woman buying order after order of food.
Merchants still tried to peddle their wares but it became obvious that the people of Zengali were only interested in vuvuzelas and small trinkets. Still, they kept it open as many people from outside the city had come for the hunt tomorrow. Some sold things like weapons, jewelry, knick-knacks, clothes, and of course, vuvuzelas. The most notable thing being sold though was a yellowish liquid.
Vuvu, the vuvuzela maker, was offering cheap vuvuzelas for cheap. She seemed to have some better quality ones for a reasonable price but there was one vuvuzelas that was held in a bronze display case that commanded a hefty price. No one even dared try to buy it.
Mbita, the cloth vendor. and his wife Chika, the tailor, offered their services for whoever wanted to be done up quickly in Mezegol fashion.
Madini, a young girl, held up a big sign directing people to her tiny jewelry stand. She seemed very proud of her creations and it had 3 bronze sigils of approval from various important people within the city.
Merchant Amani Juma is offering a week of Zengali’s one and only Maji ya Udongo though it seems to be in short supply.
The last notable merchant went by the moniker Fanaka. He traded from Firraz to Revidia and everywhere in between. Sadly, he had been stuck in the port because of that dastardly thresher. Port fees were catching up to him and before he knew it, he needed to sell some of his wares. - Nandi Q's Chutney Sauce - A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in of a man with an outrageously good mustache. There seemed to be words on the front and some sort of comical drawing on the back with an old man with a large beard being beaten by the hero on the front. - A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was a bald man who seemed to wear strapped glasses. On the back was an image of him outswimming this scary-looking eaiko quite easily. - A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped on was a woman wearing a head covering but still dressed with alluring eyes. The back has her sneaking in the clouds, teasing these little children who can’t seem to catch her. - A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was a fresh-faced man with a pair of leather gloves and a grappling hook. The back displays him quite simply free-diving off a cliff and catching himself with his signature grappling hook. - A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was a beautiful woman with flared eyebrows and beauty. The image on the back was just a very detailed drawing of her beauty, showing some of the clothes that she was wearing in color! - A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was a man with a wrapped head and face, only showing viscous eyes. The back had him slaying fiends, riding a flying carpet, and somehow stabbing the ground for an oasis to appear. - A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was an older and esteemed-looking man wearing a coat. On the back seemed to be an instructional diagram of mixing powders with labels together to cause something to happen.
The port had grown eerily quiet compared to the crazed work that took place here in the hours of Oraff and Eshiran. Some people still slowly worked under the light of lanterns, checking powders and tying knots. A sizable group of sovereign members seemed to be laughing and eating together, talking about the glory and money they could seize tomorrow. Some shifty fellows seemed to be amongst them but they held themselves to the shadows.
Towards the northern wharf, some religious figures seemed to be praying near the edge of it. They were accompanied by Kilik and Daoud. They carried numerous things with them and even the usual storyteller, Daoud, was silent at this moment. Some people followed behind them in mourning.
Further down the port, near the warehouses, was a very tired advisor. Years of life and stress had seemed to catch up with him at this moment and he now sat on a crate. He glared emptily at the waters, waiting for either the next person to show or something to appear in front of him.
The legendary pirate ship had seemed to be completely dead at this point, not even a single soul could be seen on the deck. Though there seemed to be some new crates lining the edge of the port that weren’t there earlier. Even more mysteriously, an elderly woman seemed to be speaking to some Zengali men that seemed to be quite confused about her presence next to dastardly pirates.
The once sickly encampment now carried an energy that could match that of the Zengali’s at the festival. Songs were being sung, drinks were being poured, and friendly competitions took place with their newly healed bodies. All sorts of jovial conversations were taking place but underneath it were hushed whispers of what they think really happened that day. No matter their thoughts, they knew that all they had to do was retrieve what they had lost and they could return home with great pride.
No guards were stationed out front of the gate and instead, it was open like an invitation. The tables set outside from earlier were still there though now they were covered in various dishes and more importantly, wine. The advisors seemed to be drinking with the Marquis and having an exquisite time complaining about their job in front of their boss and the Marquis played with them about it as well. The only thing of note is that Dume has still not taken a drink and the seat directly next to him sat empty. The advisors, even within their allowed jesting, did not make note of the empty seat even if it sat on their mind.
The villa provided to Yvain was quite stylish by modern standards. It seemed loosely inspired by Torrongonese design in structure and openness but it still was very much of Mezegol aesthetics. The path to it was highly decorated with intricate bronze work and well maintained so that any visitor should be able to walk it even if they came home bumbling drunk. A botanical garden, filled with a variety of plants from Mezegol and Belzagg lined the path and seemed to stretch into the dark quite a distance. Outside the gated courtyard was a young and beautiful Zengali woman, eyes bright and eager to greet whoever had been sent to stay here.
”Welcome to Chemchemi ya Mlima, the Marquis warmly welcomes you,” The woman gave a deep curtsey to her guests. Rising from it to meet their gaze, ”My name is Lady Siti, head maid of the household and at your service for the night,” she turned and the gate began to open on its own. The courtyard was well lit and many servants were moving about to make the place as enjoyable as possible. Beyond the servants, were well-dressed women who seemed to be enjoying themselves in the courtyard. One of them looked over to the guests and seemed to ‘appreciate’ them.
Lady Siti watched people’s reaction to the women with some pride and amusement. She continued guiding the guests through the courtyard, past a few rooms and a small band ready to play at their discretion to the back way. What lay beyond was a grand heated bath. It smelled of flowers and spices and was decorated with wonderful Zengali bronze, inviting any weary guest in. Siti then led each guest to their room only to show them it and said any and all service they may need can be accommodated. Of course, they had left the festival but the villa was still full of wine, food, women, and the soft sound of music. A room had also been set aside as a library/ conversation room for any guest trying to find a cozier spot to be alone.
Toward the end of the night, Raimy made time to meet with Leon. The offer was simple to the young man, a house during his stay in Zengali. It was to the west of the port and was an old house used by other noble visitors when they found themselves in the port. He prefaced his generosity as just a simple extension of hospitality as an alumnus of Ersand’Ernise.
Hidden far on the western slope of Zengali was a grove of decorative fruit trees in full bloom. Fireflies had taken flight and lit up the entryway to an old, but well-maintained household. It was rather long and only 1 story tall but very well decorated with lanterns and plants. An old maid, maybe a decade or 2 older than Marquis Dume, stood at the last set of fruit trees holding a basket of berries and other small fruits that were ready to be harvested. ”I welcome you to this home, my name is Salene Neema. I manage this estate on behalf of young master Raimy.” The older maid bowed to the new guests but couldn’t get quite as far down as she used to. ”Please let me show you to your rooms.”
The interior was rather different to the places the guest here grew up in but it still somehow had a rather comfortable vibe. The stress and the lights of the city did not reach past the grove, it felt truly secluded. Each room was carefully prepared for the guest’s one-night stay. Whatever the guests needed, Salene would do her best to accommodate the guests of young master Raimy.
Looking up towards the sky, one could notice the very nice house up on the mountain near the Marquis. There was a small dirt path that seemed to connect the 2 if anyone would be so bold to walk the unlit path.
Whether it be by the songs in the encampment, the whispers of the merchants, or the disgruntled conversation of the Perrench, word finds you that a Volta ship is in the port. With a little bit of searching, it could be found.
Abdel, Dayanara, Qadira, Niallus, Oksana, Johann, the Yasoi 'Victims'
Abdel was on the literal scent of the finger's owner with both Dayanara and Qadira eagerly bobbing their heads up high to capture the fine traces of the unique stench just a few evaporated droplets could make. Although in truth they were using a combination of their advance snout and magic to make all this possible. A stop at the pseudo-pizza seller did not deter them, with Qadira growing ever more vigorous while Dayanara seemed completely but off by the treat.
The trail had led them to a better part of the town. Appearances mattered little to Abdel for the most sinister of people he had met were those that faded so easily in the crowds. The Skuggvars were growing restless, gurgling intensely at one house in particular. “Qadira.” he called out as he tossed a slice of pizza to pacify her for a moment while Dayanara's digestion issue siphoned her zeal quickly. “No doubt about it, the owner's in there.” he confirmed, arms crossed with his sharpened senses reaching into the building. “Found him. There are a few others inside, but ...” he bit his lip. “They don't seem like the typical thugs or even prepared for something like this.”
The Tethered pondered for a brief moment. “Trap or not, we have a lead.” he looked toward Oksana. “You're fast. Would you get ready to intercept in case they tried to flee from the back?” then, he focused on Johann with an expectant look and a mild smile. “I'd rather not bring the Skuggvars close to their doors. But an intimidating yet charming presence could help a skinny guy like me make an impression.” then finally he shot a glance at Niallus. “Niallus, ask the neighbors if they saw anything. You're friendly enough. Right?”
With a plan set after some input from the others, Abdel approached the door while the animals remained tethered a good few metres away and knocked.
Following the Skugvars to the destination. Passing through crowds that gave a wide berth, mostly so they did provoke the Skugvars. Conversations between people would pause, as they walked past then would continue once more. The merchant selling their trade, still continued. “I have some excellent wares if you fine, group of people interested in?” Niallus ignored what the merchant was selling, besides it was more likely to have been looted off some corpses during the revolution that happened a week ago.
The group decided to take a little stop to get something that was called, Buudvuud. Niallus had never had this before but from the aroma that it was emitting, it was worth a try. Niallus was the last of the group to order his Buudvuud. While thinking about what to have he asked the worker something simple. Face to face with this zit filled teenager. "Being the owner, you see a lot of interesting things here in the area?" the kid arched an eyebrow at the Eskands question. “Me? I'm not the owner.” His voice was nasally and drone. “I wasn't even supposed to work today.” His voice, getting a little annoyed about it. “The owner's younger brother was supposed to be in today, but he suddenly took a vacation, so the owner made me come in.”
The kid went back to Niallus’ question about anything interesting, he tilted his head. “What do you mean by anything interesting?” "Oh, It's just because I'm not from around here, that's all." letting out a warm smile. "Just wanted some insight of what to expect in this area and what to steer clear of. I don't want to cause trouble with my first visit." letting out a light chuckle. In response to the worker's answer, about him complaining about work. " Damn that sucks, so they've done this multiple times? Do you know the reason why?" The Kid started to get nervous as he quickly changed the subject “Are you going to order a Buudvuud or not?” [10:07 PM] Not wanting to push the matter, Niallus went back to ordering his Buudvuud. "Yes, sorry." Looking through, "I'll order that one." ordering the spicy one. As Niallus paid for his order he slipped a magnus to him, "That's to keep our conversation secret. Ok?" He quickly took and hid it on his person.
After a nice stop for food, even if Niallus’ Buudvuud was spicy. "Gods above, my mouth is on fire." walking through the residential area following the Skugvars. Some locals glared at Niallus and the group, he gave them a little wave, they stuck their middle finger up at him in return. "Charming…" He mumbled.
The group came to a stop at this house, "Why does this one look more run down than the others around?" He wondered. His attention went to Abdel as he asked him to talk to the neighbours. "Sure." He said walking off to one of the houses that was next to the one Abdel and Johann. Standing in front of the door, Niallus gave it a knock, before pausing. "Hello?" "Anyone home?"
Johann visibly swallowed. "Ah, yes, of course!" The hefty lad composed himself, straightened his collar, and knocked. He stepped back, lips pressed together in a smile, and waited.
And waited.
... and waited.
Clearing his throat again, he knocked a second time, more firmly, and reached out with his senses. "There are certainly people inside," he murmured, glancing at his peers amid the lack of response. "Surely we must either leave soon or else force the issue." He raised his hand to knock a third and final time.
Meanwhile, Niallus had encountered a bit more luck next door. A small human woman with a handful of grey streaks in her brown hair opened up. Immediately, she turned and peered over at what was happening in front of her neighbours' house, visibly recoiling at the sight of the dual hulking forms of the skuggvars there. "I should say, sir, if you're after them, then be after them, not my family."
She went to close the door, but his fingers were in the frame. Who could say if it was strategic. Immediately, he jerked his hand back, hissing in pain, and she was forced, by the rules of manners and decorum, to desist. "Now you've gone and gotten your fingers caught in my door," she huffed. "What is it, then? What do you wish to know? Those yasoi next door, they've only been here for a year and they've brought all sorts of trouble to this neighbourhood. I prefer to keep my nose out of it, you must understand." She shook her head. "Safer that way." She glanced anxiously back at the other door, just as matters there seemed about to transition.
Johann used magic to amplify his third knock, but none to give it additional strength. Nonetheless, it rattled the entire frame such that the door heaved on its hinges. "Huh. Don't know my own strength," the big fellow muttered and, behind him, the skuggvars gurgled and groaned in growing impatience, Dayanara sticking her snout right up against the door. Qadira let out something of a howl, though it was just as much a 'toot'.
From inside came movement, and raised voices in a yasoi tongue. Oksana moved into position expertly. Niallus and the neighbour he was speaking to looked over. Johann took a step back and started sneakily drawing energy. He was not alone in this pursuit.
Then, all at once, it opened. A tall, blonde yasoi woman, equal to the Kerreman in height, flung the door open. "You go my house!" she shouted in heavily-accented Avincian, gesturing angrily. "Have a two big animal." She drew back momentarily at the sight of the skuggvars, but seemed to recover quickly. "We..." She trailed off, struggling for a word, before scrunching her face up and mimicking a sleep gesture. "Sem'ayiir saluuv. You... taisuum we." She shook her head.
"Suuluun, ma'am, but this is important. Is there somebody - uh, yr soi - missing a finger - yr tic - here?" Johann gestured the cutting of a finger.
She straightened, radiating fear but also anger. "Yes! My man moila." She glared. "Selex duul... work. Now you go!" she demanded. "You go! Bad people. Aly jam'siin! Joixa ya'eth jam'siin. Nexa yaniixa! Pah! Nax vei joixa wiip suum poiret yr thiilo a'loi Sensii'lii pari!" It all came out rapid-fire in Mycormish, and there was a sense of frustration and disdain that was difficult to miss. She stood there, scowling, looking them up and down, and gestured for them to leave.
Johann turned to the others. "She is endeavouring to camouflage some matter," he announced in language that would fly above her head. "I am disinclined to acquiesce to her request."
Oksana found herself pairing up with Captain Skugvaar who had a finger on the pulse of the investigation, along with Little Johann, and Niallus Scarlet, accompanied by the two swamp dragons. Unable to pronounce their names, she settled on the merry monikers of Masha and Misha.
Deciding to keep her distance from the group, Oksana reasoned hanging back made sense as it made her look inconspicuous, rather than accompanying them directly as part of a motley crew. Besides, she could easily keep track of them, as they stood out like sore thumbs like this, with many people giving them a wide berth. Opting for a natural approach to gathering information, she engaged in routine inquiries while sought property in the area.
Her first stop was the Buudvuud restaurant. The aroma of the food assaulted her senses as she looked hungrily through the shutters at the wide selection before her. Her eyes settled on a juicy, cheese-filled parcel topped with melted cheese, oogling how the strands of between the slices stretched like long thin strings. The appearance and the smell definitely beat anything from Vossoriya as she bartered with the teen behind the counter using the Cheburashka Jamboi method of diligently counting out bennies in a slow manner until he was satisfied with the amount. Taking her prize, she eagerly took a big bite, only to find her mouth filled with steaming hot cheese, almost scalding herself if she hadn’t quickly drawn back. She blew gently on it as she devoured it outside the shop.
While eating, she noticed others looking in her direction, speaking in hushed tones. Originally thought it was about her, but soon realized they were addressing the shop. Approaching a nearby couple, she inquired about the food. Though not understanding their gestures entirely, she gathered that the shop was deemed unsavory. It seemed to be a bad place with bad people. Despite the service being decent, the teen boy was that not terrible, only greasy looking, she asked if there were alternative places she could visit in the future, but there was no such luck as they muttered something and left. It seemed this particular establishment had a monopoly on tasty cheesy slices.
Continuing her inquiries, Oksana asked about the local area, focusing on important details like whose palms needed greasing and who and where to watch out for. She encountered varying responses, from quiet reluctance to share information, to attempts to extract wealth from her. Some were stubborn in their stance, others were eager to express their opinions to an audience. A lot of locals expressed sentiments against refugees, a sentiment she had encountered before in her past, but noted they made it clear that she was more welcome than others, with comments like ‘knife-ears’ presumably directed at Yasoi. When attempting to speak to the yasoi, she found them less understanding and suspicious, but managed to tease out some names to watch out for due to recent negative experienced. A big player was the Rollers, a group of Yasoi who made a lot of dough, and renown for their beatings. With the indicated hand gestures, she assumed the name came from their rolling pins used in baking. They seemed to have a connection with a group called the Paws, a group of human animal lovers who behaved similarly to their namesake, known for being woof in their dealings. Across town, there were the Boozers, known for frequenting beer halls and causing trouble as they grew rowdy due to alcohol.
She discovered that the Flying Lion had a notorious reputation for various incidents recently, finding herself surprised as she couldn't recall any disturbances outside of her own bedroom whilst she stayed at the tavern. Delving deeper, she uncovered that the establishment had undergone a transformation, previously known as the Crying Lion before being acquired by the Arslan-Mercador company. Intriguingly, the confusion was because locals had taken it upon themselves to repurpose horse stables near the port, laying the stonewalls as a foundation for a new establishment painted in goluboy hues, aptly named the Cryin’ Cyan. Its proximity to the port allowed it to serve as a hub for backdoor activities, including under-the-table jobs and smuggling. It was also a hotbed of political activism amongst the yasoi, with some striving to amass funds to topple Tarlonese dominance, whilst those on the bottom rungs of society were only out for themselves.
During her investigation, Oksana was surprised to hear talk of Penny, her one-legged friend, as her incident during Mano e Mano challenge has led to urban myths that she is rumoured to be making visits to Belleville, allegedly for summoning aberrations over the town, including a recent large one at the tavern.
Eventually, she caught up with the others after receiving a tethered tug signal from Captain Skugvaar. They surrounded a property where the owner of the missing finger was located. Oksana suggested she could knock on the door with the finger and offer to bind it back on the hand, though her idea was not popular with the others. Instead, she was sent around the back of the building and to blend in, with the goal to catch any escapees by surprise. She followed the instructions, leaving negotiations to the experts in the motley crew.
Oksana, who had snuck around back of the property, was left with little to do but track the movements of the people inside through their energy signatures. Presently, however, she noticed a small silhouette appear in one of the windows. It was a child - a rather cross-looking child. She sat by the window pouting with her arms crossed until she noticed Oksana out there. Her eyes widened in fear and she appeared about to bolt.
Oksana didn't catch what the girl said, but she noticed the sadness reflected in her frosty expression. Offering a sympathetic smile, Oksana returned her focus to her task. She employed a touch of binding magic on the shrubbery, coaxing it to sprout little offshoots which she deftly snapped off with a pinch of kinetic magic. Using these, she began crafting a miniature home for the elk, fashioning the offshoots into trees and using frost to mimic the appearance of snow. As the elements came together, she created a charming scene. "My home," she said softly, gesturing proudly to the completed display.
The child was enraptured, watching Oksana build. "Wow, you're really good at magic." She tilted her head admiringly, holding back a question. "I guess you're from a really cold place." She blinked. "Do you go to Ersandenize?"
After pulling his hand away after it was trapped in the door. His pinky and the one next to it, started to swell. trying to move them hurt. His temper started to build, but he remained calm as he had a job to do. Taking a deep breath to calm down. Listening to what the woman had to say.
The pain in his fingers was still there but he didn't let it get to him. Then the door at the house the Skugvars led them opened. Looking at a Yasoi woman that stepped out, speaking in her Yasoi tongue. He tried to understand what she was trying to say. There was a moment when she mentioned something to do with the missing a finger. He leaned back to the woman who trapped his fingers "Has there been any other people who came knocking at their door recently?" He whispered. It was worth to ask.
Meanwhile, one door over, the neighbour who Niallus was speaking with snorted. "She's full of... garbage, you know." She shook her head judgmentally. "They made some deal with the knife-ear mafia and brought crime to our neighbourhood. Nobody likes them. We try not to show it in front of little Lalo." She pursed her lips. "She's a sweet girl. We'll see how long it takes before she becomes like the rest of them." She shook her head again, ruefully. "Awful business."
Listening to what the woman had to say, mostly about what they've done. The thing that piqued his interest, the Yasoi Mafia. "Well that explains the outside appearance of the house." He said with a low tone. He crossed his arms on his chest, catching his bruised finger, causing him to wince in pain.
There were a few other questions that Niallus wanted to ask her, turning his head back to the woman. Who was making her way back into her home. "I have one thing to say." He kept close to the door, not putting his fingers on the door in case she slammed it once more. "While it's good that you and the other neighbours are doing for the girl is sweet." "As for the rest of them. They probably have their reasons for that deal." Niallus wondered if he was being a little naive with where he was going with this, but still.
"Sometimes families do the wrong things, for the right reasons. Their reason could be for that little girl." ”I'd have done the same if I was in their situation, wouldn't you?" He simply asks before leaving, to stand with the others. "Johann, do think you can fix my fingers?"
It was at this moment that Abdel cursed the split they had decided upon. Tunnel-visioned by the easy trail he had found, he did not point out such an obvious flaw. They did not have a Yasoi, or at least some sort of translator. This already started off badly. He pursed his lips as his eyes met Johann's, and then he stepped forward.
“Oira suunei!” the teen had done his best to imitate Ashon or one of those Tarlonese visitors. Along with a smile that fit well with his still not quite matured face, what could go wrong? “Uhhh, suuluun suuluun,” he waved his hands at the direction of the Skuggvars, directly telling them to back off a tad. “For protection and to help find your man.” he nodded at both her and his King-sized accomplice. “Not bad! Want to help you.” with that he made a gesture to best indicate a finger coming back into place, started with the severing and then the reversal of the act.
Abdel's grin widened just a little. “Help ALL of you. We are good people. And we find the very bad people.”
The woman narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "I... thank you help." Her bearing was defensive and suspicious. Those standing closest to the door might've seen a young girl - perhaps eight or nine years old - peer curiously down from the stairs to the second floor. "No bad people. My man moila -"
"Uncle Harlan!" interjected the child's voice, and the woman whirled. "He got his finger -"
"Lalomen, tuu'yaasa! Senii!"
She turned back to them as the girl gave a sour look and rolled her eyes, making a show of trudging up the stairs slowly. "He... hurt in work. No bad people."
Meanwhile, one door over, the neighbour who Niallus was speaking with snorted. "She's full of... garbage, you know." She shook her head judgmentally. "They made some deal with the knife-ear mafia and brought crime to our neighbourhood. Nobody likes them. We try not to show it in front of little Lalo." She pursed her lips. "She's a sweet girl. We'll see how long it takes before she becomes like the rest of them." She shook her head again, ruefully. "Awful business."
Oksana, who had snuck around back of the property, was left with little to do but track the movements of the people inside through their energy signatures. Presently, however, she noticed a small silhouette appear in one of the windows. It was a child - a rather cross-looking child. She sat by the window pouting with her arms crossed until she noticed Oksana out there. Her eyes widened in fear and she appeared about to bolt.
Abdel shot a jolly smile at the child. It seemed there was at least someone who could communicate. “No bad people. Yes.” he gestured in a pacifying manner and mirrored the woman's broken Avincian as a means to level with her and keep things simple. “We good. We help good people.” he nodded before turning his head toward Johann. “You've got the finger, right? We could get that Seviin girl to treat the uncle. She's a cut above us with those magics.” he uttered with proper intonation and speed that would have been hard for the foreigner to fully grasp.
“We fix your brother-in-law,” he made sure to utter every syllable as to put an end to the broken 'man moila' phrase. “no pay. No money. Only talk. Okay?”
"You... wex'duuz he finger?" (1) She narrowed her eyes in both curiosity and wariness. "You no have this. How you do?"
"I could tell them what you saaaayyy!" came an insistent little voice from somewhere else in the house. "But you won't let me!"
Whatever else might've been said in the background was lost when, suddenly, there was a man at the door. "My daughter," he grunted in heavily-accented Avincian. "Spoil, I think you say. You here about my brother, yes," he continued. "He lose the finger at work. You are binder?" He looked them up and down. "Why binder have skuugvar two?"
Johann glanced over at Abdel as if to say, "Should I?" It was clear only by context that he was speaking of the finger, and pulling it out.
“To find the owner of the finger.” answered Abdel as cordial as he could after patiently waiting for the family to get itself in order. He did not insist on having the best speaker among the family to step up - he knew better than to put kids in such positions. “And protection. We're not oblivious to the interests that prowl these streets, sir.” hands behind his back, the teen kept himself stiff and proper whilst his sharpened senses frisked the minute details of his surroundings. Did anything appear unusual beyond the family's secrecy?
“That said, the longer we wait, the harder the work would be. And our best binder can only do so much.” he shrugged his shoulders whilst Dayanara grunted in growing impatience. “As promised, we don't expect monetary or material payment.” his head then turned to the unit of a man by him and shook his head. 'Not yet.' he mouthed. He did not want to risk spooking them just yet.
Both Skuggvars began to bob their heads and flemming at the intense smell they had been tracking all along once the 'uncle' had shown himself. Abdel took a quick look at the hand and then gestured for the other, healthy one to show itself too. In the meantime, he also nodded toward Johann to show the finger in order to compare it to the remaining counterpart. With a match, they would have confirmation of what they were looking for. “Doing our job.” he answered frankly to the complying Yasoi man.
“Someone is missing - a young Yasoi man.” he added. “And your finger was used as proof of a kidnapping.” Abdel spoke solemnly and lowly, as to not alert the children or cause a scene. “Tell me where the young man is and we'll not only forget all of this, but we will help with your finger as we said. Otherwise, you're now an accessory to kidnapping and ransoming.”
Next door, another mostly one way conversation was taking place, as the middle-aged woman regarded the teenage boy who lectured her on morality. "Well aren't you just setting yourself up wonderfully for all five heavens?" she remarked, crossing her arms. She reached out and patted one of his. "Good for you." It was naught but two more seconds before she closed the door, and with some force.
Niallus quickly found his way back to the others in the wake of Abdel's threat and they were perhaps a bit busy. Both men's eyes snapped to the finger, but any gratitude they might've felt was superseded by a mixture of fear and anger. These humans had come to their door with two vicious animals and a severed finger, hammering on it in the middle of sem'ayiir saluuv until they'd had no choice but to open, and now there were others, evidently surrounding their house. Now there were strange threats and blackmail. They never should have opened!
"Harlan, Achem wiip wes eluu pa yanii ya. Juup joi?"
The younger one, eyes afraid, shook his head. "Harlan naja nax wiip, moila. Nax ya suuluun."
"Eluumen, ya yelost juu Achem."
The woman was already backing away, her face a mask of horror and confusion. "Eluumen wiip wes. Yelost, nax wiip wes. Pelosh tiij toil tox pa Colas. Ela teiyix tiij pox'em Harlan'ii tic?"
"One momen." Achem managed a shaky smile to try to reassure his visitors, but all three yasoi were drawing energy. It was clear that he was thinking, putting pieces together. "Nax'a lesaal. Pa oilanax a luum'o oft. Tiij ynast oap'it a. Senii, tiij yim fuu." He breathed in and out. "Se luum'ii teluu rey yash. Achem vith'it joixé."
"Whoa whoa whoa!" Johann interjected. "Nobody needs to protect anybody. We just need to know about the boy: the missing boy." Eluumen was already running.
"I'm Lalomen. How about you?" the girl was asking, the door having opened a crack wider. Then, before Oksana could answer, it slammed shut and the child stumbled back, alarmed. A yasoi woman hurtled into view, radiating fear with each step. "Malo! Pathiir yil elaz!" She scooped the girl up. "Tuum'a dax. Tuum'a toil tox pa Colas!"
Lalomen looked upon Oksana with horror as her mother spirited her away. Then, the woman stopped, realizing that she was surrounded. The enemy was at the front door and had snuck around the back, trying to bait her child. "Mama, elei'ya weix?"
She was placed on the ground. "Malo'semprii, pa Colas el'liic pa yaniixa. Eluumen seldii tuum muul luum'o ilac rey nax seldii tuum duun'it juu stiip joila aluu rey moi'aluu."
The girl was panicking, crying. "Mama..."
"Yax elden, semprii." She whirled, drawing to capacity, and turned her fury on this woman who had come to harm her daughter. "Mama westa'l pa dax lelan. Joi yash juu let'o doin dain. Eluumen felix'al joi duul zoap stii."
At the front, Achem's face hardened. "You lying piece of Cola shit." Beside him, Harlan was less resolute. "You bring back his finger like fucking insult, invent some lie for blackmail us again! You say I'm criminal!?" He stalked forward, brimming with energy, despite the presence of the skuggvars.
"We're saying nothing like that!" Johann tried to assure him, "But this finger was found in a ransom note and it's his! We want to know how."
"I tell you how: you fucking get it from Colas who pay you to come fuck me some more, oh but use nice yanii words and say you help."
"Sir, I don't even know -"
"I spit on you. I spit on your family. I spit on your bird. What the fuck you want now!? Maybe an arm this time? A leg? You come with your lies. You threaten my fucking family!?" he roared. "No more!"
There was zero hesitation or restraint, and Johann dived out of the way. Achem launched a full-power arcane lance right for Abdel's head, the intent to decapitate him.
Colas. Well there was their confirmation. Now, the fallout.
“Colas? You think we're Colas?” sneered Abdel whilst the Skuggvars began to growl and grow restless as they felt the energy gathering. Abdel wasn't going to be defenseless and he drew at a speed far surpassing all others. “Those lowlife thugs could barely even afford one Skuggvar.”
When a lance was trained right at his direction, he stood stiff, eyes adamantly fixed onto his attacker. He raised his hands in surrender. “We're not Colas. We're investigators. And students of the school. Consider what you're doing, and what it will mean for your family if you kill one of us. Please.” he kept it cool, even if it was all a facade. His heart was racing just as much as it had when he was holding Tojarra back. “We just want to know where they conduct their uglier business! And find the Doridax kid.”
That said, he wasn't truly surrendering. With no signs of these Yasoi's lowering their hostilities, he was keen on using his signature spell.
Achem did not care in the slightest for what this Cola lackey had to say. He just needed to buy Eluumen enough time to escape with Malo. Always it was something with these thugs: some sort of excuse to worm their way back into his family's lives and take from them again. Truly, he now knew that they'd never be free. The nerve of sending huusoi with his brother's severed finger and the ridiculous invention that somehow he had been complicit in kidnapping a boy!
He had spoken too much and the element of surprise had been lost. As much as he wanted to obliterate these yanii and their lying placating faces, the smarter play was to stall them. Surely, he would take a savage beating and... perhaps worse, but his wife and daughter could get away. They could start fresh. Oh how he regretted ever working with these thugs. With the politicals controlling everything and directing yasoi only to businesses that donated to their cause, it had seemed the only option. He was glad to be away from Mycormii and from Oiyac before it! Let those places burn! They had failed their people. The yasoi had become too sedentary. Let them spread across the world, travel, and grow, as they once had!
His arcane lance missed, shooting off into the sky instead, just in case because it would buy more time. "You lie! The Colas pay you. They gived you this finger so you have story to tell. So you you can say we are criminal!"
"They take for pay, they say!" Harlan chimed in, eyes wide and bugged out. "Alway, they make us to pay them."
"Them or fucking resistance," growled Achem. "Who you work for, you come my house and all around and call me criminal? How much they are pay you?"
He reached out with his senses as he felt a flare of energy. At the back of the house, Eluumen had just blasted the woman the Colas had sent to snatch his daughter. He used the Gift to tap his brother's neck in a specific pattern. Harlan would know what it meant: help them.
With this escalation, trying to get them to calm down might be a little bit difficult when one drew in to throw an Arcane Lance, seeing that it was a missed shot. "Dii Colas, dii Resistance. Ersand'Enise, dii fuu." He spoke in a broken tone. Yasoi wasn't his best, but it was worth a try.
Abdel flinched at the firing of the lance, even if it was a warning shot. The Skuggvars were ready to charge as they roared in fury after hostilities were made clear after the attack. “Fucker.” the teen scoffed. “I just said it was the Doridax you daft ...”
Talking appearing increasingly pointless and Niallus' redundancy wasn't going to change anything either. Action had to be taken, and he would have if it wasn't for Dayanara's charging right for the entrance. “Shit! Johann!” he warned, and trained his intention to cast Commandment on his own beast instead.
They couldn't say what had done it: the purposely missed arcane lance, Niallus' attempts to placate, the skuggvar's attempt to attack, or Abdel's refocusing on it. Regardless of what it might've been, Achem took a step back and Harlan stood there, brimming with energy but not intent. "If you really Ersandenise, then I tell you Cola Brotherax come here. Make us pay money for 'protect'. They cut my brother finger when we have not enough. Maybe they use for this 'Doridax'. I don't fucking know or care. Now you yash duul spax and leaf my family!" (1)
"If you good what you say, you go!" Harlan chimed in. "We tell you all. Go fight Colas, not us!"
Oksana, meanwhile, was dealing with a somewhat different sort of threat.
Oksana focused intently on the girl's lips, trying to follow her words. She tapped her ear and offered a smile. "Me Deaf," she explained, gesturing to herself. "Yes, cold place, Vossoriya. Lot of snow. Brrrr!" She mimicked shivering, wrapping her arms around herself. "From St Yuri, come to Ersandrise, seek to refuge. Bad people at home, fled them." With gentle hands, she moved the elk out of the scene and away from the snow.
There was a sudden burst of panic, as the mother seemed to scoop up the daughter as the conversation continued in another language, Oksana remained attentive, though she couldn't understand the words. One term caught her attention, the Rollers. She glanced around, scanning the area as if on guard. "Rollers bad, they take dough and beat. Stay away from Rollers," she warned, looking toward the pair. Pointing at the sad face in the frost, she added, "No cry, we brave."
Oksana swung her cloak around like a makeshift shield, freezing it and reinforcing it with her own kinetic magic. The shield's shape deflected the gust of wind around her as she crouched behind it. "shcho za diavol," she exclaimed loudly, followed by a rapid-fire response of "Ne vykorystovuyte taku nebezpechnu mahiyu, khtos' mozhе postrazyaty." She paused for a moment, gathering her senses. "Stop! No hurt to people." Lowering the cloak so her eyes could peer over it, she observed the situation more closely, checking to see if anyone was caught in the crossfire.
She'd been pushed back a bit, past the yard an through the fence, and the yasoi woman had rushed out to occupy that space, interposing herself between Oksana and Lalomen. The little girl came scurrying out and ran past, into an alley. "You no hurt me girl!" the mother screamed. "You fuck off!" She gathered energy for a blinding blast of light.
It seemed that Oksana had stumbled upon an angry parent, and she was no stranger to dealing with such situations and their overprotective nature. She couldn't fathom even laying a finger on the girl; if anything, she would protect the girl herself if the situation warranted it. All she could imagine was that the boys had somehow messed up, and now there was an overly defensive family involved. Knowing when to withdraw, she realized there was no role for her here.
"No harm, I'll leave," she said, ducking behind cover as she sensed tension rising again, slowly stepping backward under her cloak away from the property. "Just misunderstandings here." She had no appetite for a fight, but the same couldn't be said for the other party; she knew she would need to keep her guard up.
Abdel, after wrestling his Skuggvar with sheer will, shot a glare at Harlan in particular.
“Where do you find them?” his voice deep and his demeanor immovable. “You want this?” he raised the severed finger. “You'll only get our binder's help if you help us. How many are there? How do they work? WHERE are their hideouts?”
The Skuggvar, while placated, was dangerous close to the house and rumbling like the dying Lorantine Queen.
The finger had been severed days ago and was, effectively, unsalvageable, nor had Abdel, Johann, Niallus, or Oksana given the slightest indication that they were anything other than home invaders with a flimsy excuse backing an attempt at some kind of blackmail, much less people capable of healing a complex wound. The simple fact of the matter, however, was that they could easily overpower Achem and Harlan, and both parties knew it. The two might've given in easily and told the Biros the next-to-nothing that they knew had their pride not been pricked by the brazenness of this daytime assault.
"You want make your animal attack us? Because we yasoi all same to you. All bad. All know the other. You come, then. I can't stop you. Steal what you want," he pronounced bitterly, "then you go. I say nothing for people who come my house call me criminal. Say I take some boy." He spat at their feet. It was clear that he was deeply embittered and not about to speak. Harlan's eyes flicked back and forth between the invaders and his brother. "We know nothing, just they come - maybe four - we house or we restaurant, but they is more. They take our money, they go. We not have, they take other thing." He held up his hand. "But you ya like Colas or more bad. Much yanii are. I live with no one finger so I remember this."
Johann turned politely to Niallus, then. "I think we need a new approach to this situation," he decided, taking in Abdel as well. "From their perspective, we're four random non-locals who showed up pounding on their door with a pair of skuggvars, interrogated their neighbours, and snuck around back of their home. We've now shown them the severed finger of one of their family members that they last saw taken by gangsters and accused them of being complicit in criminal activity. We've given them no reason to cooperate except fear and, even then, we've failed to pull the trigger." He regarded Niallus again. "Niallus, might you step back from this situation, perhaps go check on Oksana and make certain that nothing drastic has happened there?"
He shot Abdel a look as if to say, "trust me on this one". "Partner, perhaps the animals need to be removed from such a stimulus, even if only for a moment." Then, he faced the pair of yasoi and spread his arms nonconfrontationally. "I promise we are not here to steal from you. See? They are stepping back." he paired it with an appropriate gesture.
Oksana, meanwhile, had recognized that something had gone very wrong. The girl's mother stood there, brimming with energy and shouting at her to leave in yasoi as she backed off. It had all been a misunderstanding: a terrible misunderstanding. The child ran. She ran out of view of her cautiously-advancing mother. She ran and then, suddenly, she tripped and fell. She landed hard on the ground and she did not rise.
Oksana blinked in shock as she saw the little girl on the floor, not moving. What kind of cruelty is this? She cursed under her breath, “Zvernit' uvahu na dytinu,” she stood up, pointing towards where the little girl lay. “Girl hurt!”
A little girl getting hurt on her watch was unforgivable. There were a couple of ways to deal with this, but only a big gesture would probably work. She raised her hands in a surrender posture as she indicated again. “Binder. Girl safety first, I'll go.” There was also a plan B, but she hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Abdel exhaled in frustration. It was infuriating having to communicate and compromise when one could simply decide. His better nature kept him from making that leap, as did his experience, but still. The words these locals chose and how they conveniently decided to frame this earned them little sympathy from the teen.
He shot look at Johann and crossed his arms. “Fine.” he answered, forcing more petulence into his voice than he normally ever would before gesturing his beasts to retreat. Not completely gone, but they were being semi-piloted around the corner where they could catch the scent of the buudvuud and wander curiously.
The girl's mother cried out and began running there. She made no move to stop Oksana, for she had sensed no draw from her: nothing that could've caused her daughter's mishap, and she knew the word 'binder'. It was a major leap of faith on her part. When Oksana got there, it was unclear what had happened. The girl had fallen as if her foot had caught on something, and her hands had failed to shoot out and stop her fall. She had gone unconscious on impact with the ground due to head trauma.
Meanwhile, Johann breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, really," he replied, as the other two began to retreat. "And please don't be alarmed if you sense some energetic drawing. I will be attempting a medical procedure." He waited until they were gone and then he drew to his full capacity. Both of the yasoi grimaced, and Harlan dropped to his knees, trying not to heave. "Oh my Oraff! I'm so sorry," exclaimed Johann, and he hurried over to lay a hand each on the struggling brothers.
Harlan slumped. Achem froze in confusion. Johann leaned in and spoke quietly in Mycormish. "Tesh hyco teluu joi jex elaz, cip et thei sa. Nash'elar ya tox et senii. Luum thust'al etii luuch hyco luur duul ix lai ol joi wiip yim nash ezei'siilan joi wes sil pa Colas, joi thoil-yanii do-siilan: ela tuum tai, eloi tuum a yil, elei tuum nar, eloi tuum pen rey tiin, elo tuum spax. Ol joi stiip nash, nash dii roi'it pa tuur'yim juu yim et juu oap. Pelosh, nax suum juup'it ap nax'patash. Juup joi poiret nash?" he paused, starting to draw back. "Senii, joi etaar, luuca? Joi yim do'siilan duul pa, luuca?" He smiled and patted the man on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, but he'll be completely okay and... it's better if he's asleep for this part, luuca?"
A dozen emotions flashed across Achem's face. Then, he hung his head and began crying. "L... luuca," he sniffed, nodding slowly. Johann's face seemed to soften. "I know it isn't easy," he replied, "but thank you and, remember, I need everything or this won't work."
He squeezed Achem's shoulder and it all began to spill out: how he held no love for the governments of Mycormii and Oiyac, how the resistance operated like a gang among the refugees and had blacklisted his business because he refused to donate some of his profits to their cause, how he had turned to the Colas in desperation and how they had wored to counter the resistance. He hadn't wanted to do ill, he sobbed. He hadn't known how bad they'd be. He hadn't counted on word getting out and people pulling their business. They hadn't been able to pay. Four Colas: an enormous fat one named Daiyet, an angry young ginger one named Fantas, a pretty slinky woman with bright red hair named Cherii, and the ringleader: Pepsii, who was the smartest of the bunch: ruthless, cruel and - he'd sensed - conflicted on some level. They never gave away their exact base of operations, but it was in an area quite close to the warehouse that had been mentioned in the ransom note, Johann noted. They weren't ideological, Achem was pretty sure. They were only in it for the money, just like the Doridaxes had the reputation of being, though there were rumours that, recently, they'd been channeling funds towards the resistance. That was, the yasoi swore, all that he knew, on Shiin's holy name.
With that, Johann stepped back and breathed. He bowed his head gratefully. "Thank you so very much," he replied, "And I'm sorry for that mess. I believe that we understand each other better now, though." He strode over to the unconscious Harlan, reached out, and, with all of his expertise in Binding and Blood, began to wind the flesh together. He filled the young man with energy and Harlan rose in astonishment.
Dayanara required a tad more tugging - actual, physically tugging and not the gift. He could only manipulate them so much without assuming direct control, and potentially hurting the beasts. This whole job wasn't worth some of his best assets. With that, Abdel was gone from the premises for just a minute to tie the animals where they could be distracted by alluring scents.
On his return, scarce few words had slipped by the fences that separated properties. He had only bothered to sense whether hostilities continued, and by the looks of it the Kerreman fat guy had executed his plan. Abdel was impressed if not a tad curious as to what he had said. He also wondered why the more eloquent Mycormish had to wait until now. Or maybe the bit he caught was all that Johann could muster. Truthfully, after the headache this conundrum had become, he had no desire to doubt his associate. The job was done, with all the information spilling right before him as he arrived.
“Impressive.” a merrier Abdel gave a couple of ceremonious claps to Johann before flashing a smile and nodding at the two distressed men. “We appreciate the cooperation. Next time,” her pursed his lips and shook his head. “remember, we're here to help. We're just getting a grip on the refugee issue.” with that, he provided a friendly wave to the family before nodding Johann's way. “We've got our leads. Let's pay these Colas a visit before they haul somewhere else. I can imagine word spreading quickly here.”
After listening to what Johann mentioned, he agreed. They could have approached this with more care. Instead they decided to throw chaos into this matter. "Yes, we kinda made a mess of this." letting out a small sigh in frustration.
When Johann asked him to check up on Oksana, Niallus nodded "I'll get her, hopefully she hasn't got into too much trouble." once outside, he walked off into the direction where Oksana went.
Upon arriving. It seems a lot had happen, he didn't want to jump to conclusions. Standing next to the Girls mother, "We are about to go."he said to her politly. Then asked her, "What can you tell me aboutthe resistance?"
Once the mother had backed down, Oksana swiftly approached, her heart racing with concern. She carefully tended to the child, giving her a once-over before moving her into a more suitable position for a thorough inspection. There was a clear graze on the head, bleeding profusely from where she had hit it hard against a stone. With gentle hands, Oksana applied a cloth to the wound, then began using her binding magic to seal it. This was the easy part; the face tended to bleed a lot, but it was the risk of concussion that concerned her most. She began to reduce the swelling, little by little, taking her time to ensure the best outcome.
Anxiously, the mother watched as Oksana tended to her daughter. Did her rage cause this? Had she neglected her precious little girl? Her mind was flooded with thoughts and doubts. Suddenly, she sensed a presence behind her, and instinctively went to cover her ear, her fear palpable. Whirling around, she spotted Niallius approaching from the side of the house. Acting on instinct, she positioned herself between him and her daughter, a mix of protectiveness for her child and silent pleading in her eyes. Though his words were foreign to her, she understood the meaning of resistance. “Velluum! Yim joi ezei,” she responded, her voice trembling. “Ilac’se mitoip fo hax’olop vel. Temoip’hoam seno stiip. Dax’aspaa qeil’pol. Poiret?”
Meanwhile, Oksana finished her ministrations and breathed a sigh of relief. Turning her attention to Niallius and the mother, she noticed the woman looking intimidated. Furrowing her brow at Niallius, she silently questioned his actions. Gathering the sleeping child in her arms, Oksana approached the mother and gently presented the girl to her. “Girl sleep,” she gestured, pressing her hands together against the side of her head. Overwhelmed with emotion, the mother sobbed as she cradled her baby girl, covering her face in kisses and muttering softly in the yasoi language.
With a tug on Niallius's shoulder, Oksana led him away. “Don’t be bad,” she urged quietly, hoping to diffuse any tension that lingered in the air by leading him away.
In the event, neither Niallus nor Oksana understood much of anything that had been said, but they would soon enough be filled in by Johann and Abdel. The true nature of the resistance, this family's devil's bargain with the Cola Brothers, the thugs' names, and a rough location of their base of operations - close to the warehouse they'd been directed to in the first place, and some dirt on the Doridaxes: it all came out.
Eluumen scurried in through the back door, having managed a small, vaguely grateful nod in Oksana's direction and a fearful look in Niallus'. Lalo looked back with wide eyes and managed a shy little wave goodbye at the Vossoriyan.
"I'm sorry for my deception," Johann said, as they were walking away. He tried to take care to look mostly at Oksana so that she could read his lips even though he was primarily addressing Abdel. "I had doubts about the plan but you all seemed to gung-ho." He shrugged and grimaced. "I figured they weren't going to talk to us openly, so I wanted to hide the level of Mycormish I understood in the hopes they'd give something away in talking with each other." He nodded slowly as they turned a corner, leaving that area of the town. "Turns out that they did and it gave me an avenue in through empathizing and telling a couple of white lies."
It was not long before they were close to where they had started, the skuggvars now sniffing out the other group. "I do think that the resistance bears investigating," Johann added, "and this one-legged woman." He shook his head. "Reshta's name, they're everywhere, aren't they?"
After the events that happened with Oksana, Eluumen and her daughter. He somewhat understood Eluumen answer to his question. How they suffer the consequences if you don't pay enough, they hurt you. Proof was that severed finger. After this he was going to brush up on his Mycromish.
"It's fine Johann. You managed to salvage the chaos that we caused." giving him a pat on the back. "Maybe these Colas have some information that can help us when investigatingthe Resistance." Niallus added, "But I don't think it will be that easy, so it'll be best to focus on finding the Colas base first."
Since the revolution, Leon had seen much of Pete. They got along well when Pete was a scagbiist, but very little of that love remained when he transformed. The truth of the matter was that the two had nothing in common. But Leon was drawn to spend some time with him lately. The performer discovered that Pete had a hobby of fishing every second Victendes, so he invited himself to join.
Pete’s favourite spot lay a two-hour walk outside of the city walls. Leon had offered to fly them both there to save time, but the Cazenax declined. He liked the walk, he liked the peace, and he liked the sun. Leon was inclined to agree. They walked in near silence and exchanged a few words.
A calm wind shook the reads around a small secluded pond. The two sat at the water's edge and cast their lines in and waited. The sun passing slowly above was the only indication of a passing day. Their words were shared with no one but themselves.
“Say, Pete. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now. But you weren’t always a Cazenax. Before you got transformed and woke up in that place, you were a scagbiist.”
“Yeah, I gathered that pretty quick. Not ya average story of coming to be I suppose. Why’d ya ask?”
“Well, when I made that decision I couldn’t exactly ask you what you wanted. I can’t speak scagbiist” Leon chuckled. “I wondered what would make you happiest. You certainly seemed happier with me before.”
“You sayin’ I got a choice now?”
“It would take some time. But yes, I could turn you back if you wanted.”
There was a pause as Pete pondered the question, he didn’t think long.
“Scagbiists eat people, right? They seem to find Yasoi tastiest as well I heard. I’ll make it easy for ya. I don’t exactly want somethin’ like that hangin’ over my head. I got a Yasoi friend, name’s Pepsii, I don’t want to think about eatin’ the guy ya know.”
“But back then, when you were a scagbiist, you probably would have chosen to stay the same, no?”
Pete raised an eyebrow. “You really overthink these kinds of things, don’t ya kid?”
Because you weren’t the one who made the choice.
“No, I guess I wouldn’t’ve.”
Silence followed. Not an awkward silence or one born of animosity, just letting the quiet speak.
About an hour later, Pete got a hefty bite on his fishing rod. The two worked together to fetch up a massive fish. Leon argued that they should share the catch considering they both put in the work. But Pete argued that it was his rod so he should keep the fish. Leon relented.
On the walk back, Leon offered to help carry their one big catch. Pete declined, it was his fish so he was taking it home. The two laughed, then Pete cast a suspicious eye on him and they laughed again. It was a good day and the last time fate would see them meet.
1x Thank
