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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Th3King0fChaos
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Th3King0fChaos The Weird

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Into the Afterlife



Made in collaboration with: @Force and Fury & @jasbraq








"Scheiße!" called Erika.

"Mein Eschi..." murmured Fritz.

Then, the Honey Badger got the Direstork's attention. She flapped her wings a couple of times and hovered above the group. The dragon crashed to the ground, mortally wounded, and the dogs leapt upon it to finish it off. There was every chance that it had once been a person.

"Fritz," began Erika.

"Mhm?"

"They're both people-animals, right?"

He scowled, considering. "They must be, but there's no hellish aura."

Erika nibbled her lower lip, lowering her gun. "I think we should tell Manfred about this."

"Where is that upturned-mustache cat weirdo anyhow?"

"Last I saw, he was playing with a rat," she remarked.

"Hah! How fitting."

"Perhaps these two have come for him."

Fritz seemed to consider. "He hasn't been around for all that long I suppose, so it's possible."

"Do you think that rat was -" Erika began, and Fritz shook his head. "No way of knowing until we meet back up with him."

Edyta alighted close to the group but not so close as to alarm the dogs. "You two!" called Fritz, "follow us. We're headed to the colosseum. We'll see if we can get you sorted there."

Then, in the distance, hurrying over a hill, came - well, it was not just some random man named Manfred, but the one they'd actually known in Ersand'Enise. He had a guupguup in his hand. It was bracing itself against the wind, its little whiskers fluttering, its fur ruffling.

"Manny!" called Erika. "Is that another human-animal?"

"It is!" he called back, "and I know him, luck of all luck!"

"Does he have the usual aura?" shouted Fritz, but Manfred was a good deal closer. He arched an eyebrow. "Yes. Why?"

Desmond tried to call to Laska, yet still found it difficult to even try and produce a word. He wanted to ask if she was alright, yet he had to be well enough with seeing she seemed uninjured. Desmond then shook his head and began to turn to their new 'friends' Erika and Fritz. Desmond's ears peaked up for a moment when he heard the name Manfred, yet he didn't get his hopes up.

A Manfred who likes cats with a mustache? That could be the one he remembered, yet, this was the land of the dead. Everyone who had ever died could be here. Those similarities could just be a fluke. Right?

Desmond perked his head up and turned to Fritz when he spoke of them heading to the colosseum. The Honey Badger nodded and chirped and followed.

They had not moved very far however when they found Manfred. Desmond's ears launched up as he began to run forward. Chirping and squealing.

Was it a sign of aggression? For a Honey Badger? Probably. But for Desmond, it was happy. Desmond had nothing but fond memories of Manfred. And a feeling of loneliness since the last missions they were sent on by the school. He had lost countless friends. Many he had only made goodbyes to them at the school and never saw them again. People he would never see. Many, he couldn't even imagine what happened.

Friends, who he would never know what was their last wishes. Their last moments. He could not do a single thing to help them. All that he could do. Was cry for them.

And now here. Desmond ran forward and tried to jump to his hind legs to hold onto Manfred's leg. Chirping and chittering happy noises.

The usual aura? What the hells did that even mean? It sounded like it was bad news for him and all he wanted to do was crawl into himself and hide but he knew nothing of the sort was possible right now. It was then that he noticed two other animals. A racoon-ish animal? . . . and a stork!

He leaned over the hunter's fingers to witness the Honey badger hug Manfred's leg. Is this another person he knows?

Fiske's sight returned to look up to Manfred's head.

Friends?

"Oh, because ours didn't," Fritz answered.

"One dances and sings," Erika contributed cheerily. "The other is a bird that kills dragons."

"I think they killed the dragon together," Fritz amended. "Our avian friend was just at it longer. The badger had song in his soul and had to -"

It was at about that point that Badger-Desmond began his cheerful flight towards Manfred. The Kerreman's eyes widened in alarm, but he knew enough about the species to tell that this wasn't an attack. Fritz was right, as well. There was no hellish aura. Then, the animal started... humping his leg!? "Agh!" he shouted. "I know you're excited, but -"

Well, he wasn't humping it, per se. Perhaps Manfred was a bit to familiar with the antics of a different Fritz: his dog. He tried to keep his hand steady, lest Rat-Fiske fall out.

"Whoa!" he called, "Whoa there! Who are you?"

"We've no idea who they are either," continued Erika. "They're far too smart to be animals or creations, but they don't have the aura of damned souls."

Manfred arched an eyebrow, glancing down at Desmond and over at the stork, who seemed far more reserved. "Well, I know that this little fellow is a rather unfortunate relation of someone I knew in the living days." He held the rat on his palm out for all to see. "His name's Fiske. That familiar to either of you?"

The direstork went still for a moment. She blinked. Then, she took a few rapid steps toward Manfred and, particularly, the guupguup named Fiske.

Desmond looked to Manfred and the others. He listened to how they spoke. Damned auras, neither him nor Laska had one, which meant they were sent here somehow, yet they were not damned. Good that makes things easier

Yet the one in Manfred's hand did. He too seemed to hold intelligence, yet he had an aura. Which meant he had died and was now punished to be here. Something that makes sens. Yet what didn't make sense was when Manfred then referred to the damned soul he found as Fiske.

Desmond's eyes widened as he allowed himself to step back. His mind raced for a moment as he processed that thought. He couldn't make sense of it. Fiske died. Then thoughts began to seep in.

It happened again. Another one died. Fiske was here. How? Why?

Coincidence.

That's what Desmond wanted to believe. Just a coincidence. Desmond breathed in as he steadied himself.

It's a coincidence.

It had to be.

No.

Too many things are lined up. A coincidence now is impossible.

That had to be the Fiske he knew. Maybe.

Desmond look to Manfred and nodded as he was going to use this time to try and figure out a way to make sounds that sound like words. Desmond tried to squeak out in a certain way to say, friend.

Edyta Laska stalked right up through the middle, ready to go on a diatribe. Indeed, she spoke, but not a soul understood what she said, and it was just as well. "If that's Fiske, I sympathize that Lady Eshiran has called him here," she began, "He did not strike me as outright evil." She tilted her avian head to look up at Manfred gravely, taking Desmond in as well. "However, this is a damned soul. Does that mean nothing to any of you!?" She shook her head. "This is not the sort we should be working with!" She swallowed, her large beak clapping open and shut as she did so. "We are here to rescue Tommy and..." She trailed off, perhaps recognizing her own hypocrisy. Thankfully for the direstork, nobody had understood anything she had said - merely noting that she had become rather animated.

Manfred, meanwhile, strained to understand what Desmond had said. He pursed his lips. "Mein freund," he remarked, pained, "I don't understand a word you're saying." He paused. "I know, you, don't I... is there any other sign you could give?"

It was at about that point that Edyta raised her wings, first bringing them together as if in prayer and then holding them over her head in crude imitation of a nun's habit. She held them out like sickles and slashed them about.

He could actually understand them? Who else do I even know that was damned?

He squeaked in return to the other. whilst casting a name he thought it could be Silas? It can't be Niallus, right? Maybe it was the other Eskandish dork. Fiske just looked at the other. Sven? He stared back at Manfred then back to the honey badger, than to the Stork. . . who made him feel somewhat uneasy. He turned to the Honey Badger with a rather scared look. They He pointed to the Stork. Friend?

Desmond looked to Fiske, he realized that he can understand him. Desmond nodded his head as he gestured to Laska and said, "Friend!"

Desmond gestured to the large stork again as he squeaked out, "Nun. Laska".

He then tried to stand on his hind legs. He balanced as he put his hands to his chest to gesture to himself and squeaked out, "Me. Desmond".

Fiske flinched at the mention of the nun. "Nun?! Here?" His squeaks sounded rather panicked. If he remembered she wasn't from one of the fun orders like the Hundrians. . .

"Desmond!" It was then that his squeaks became filled with joy, before sadness kicked in once more. ["You. Dead. Too?"

He looked rather hesitant. "Me. Tell. Manfred?" Fiske wanted to ask since a person's name holds a lot of weight.

Manfred started, glancing at Erika and Fritz. "You're a nun!" exclaimed the former. "Ah, yes, my sister was a nun," Fritz added. "Liesl, is that you?"

Edyta shook her head and crossed her wings in an x-shape. She tilted her head, regarding Manfred steadily as Fiske and Desmond chittered and chirped at each other in excited tones. "Mein Gott!" the magusjaeger exclaimed, "You're Sister Laska!" He shook his head in disbelief. "How on Oraff's green Sagand did you get here!?" He twisted to regard Desmond. "And you..." He considered. "Not Marci, right?" He glanced down at Fiske as well, who'd mentioned Marci. "Not Dory!?" He'd said she was in trouble. Perhaps this was part of it!

Desmond shook his had, "Not. Dead".

He then nodded his head to allow Fiske to give Manfred his name.

Fiske looked quickly regarded Manfred to make him feel more at ease. He shook his head before casting words. Not. Them. A little annoyed feeling boiled up as he could do nothing more than what some would consider parlor tricks... Even if others would refer to his illusions as mere parlor tricks they were not the same.

Manfred considered for an extended moment. "Desmond!" he exclaimed. "Desmond! It has to be!" He shook his head. "You're the only motherfucker I know who's crazy enough to go to hell without dying!" He paused. "You're not dead, right?" He glanced at Erika and Fritz. "Is that even possible?"

Desmond began to laugh. He nodded as he jumped up and down to confirm, not only is he Desmond, but he's not dead.

The little rat only looked more confused. How can someone willingly think of becoming the Heavensent's prey...?

"Why. Here?" Fiske asked. Nobody would have even noticed his death so it can't be for him. But he wouldn't know who else they would grab. "For. Manfred?"

Desmond shook his head as he gestured to Laska, "No. Laska".

Desmond then gestured to the colosseum to refference Eshiran, "Sent. Save. Tommy".

"Right."

The boy knew that he was already one of the damned. Perhaps he would given a nicer animal form after being helpful for one of his only friends left.

"Me. Help." He stood rather proud. his little furry chest puffed up.

"Desmond, ol' buddy. Holy shit. Count on you to do somethign like this, but why!?"

Meanwhile, the Kerreman pair looked at each other. "I've heard of it," Fritz admitted, "but I don't know for sure." He looked Erika's way. While he'd been in heaven for perhaps a few decades, she'd been here for well over a century, perhaps even two. She smiled at the display, perhaps with a hint of wistfulness, and nodded, dropping her unserious demeanor from earlier. "I've only seen it a couple of times, but it's possible." She shouldered her rifle and started to turn. "A sort of backdoor into this heaven, or even a hell."

"Well, are they stuck as animals for as long as they're here?" Manfred prodded, glancing at Desmond. "Or longer? I mean... they can't be, right?"

Fritz shook his head helplessly and Erika paused. "I... think there's a way, but I don't know it for sure," she admitted. There was something about the honey badger. It was as if she was being ever so slightly pulled in his direction when she was close to him, almost.... magnetically, but it couldn't be. She shook her head. "We should get to the colosseum. I think I know who we can talk to."

Desmond turned to the conversation being had. It sounded as if they had a thought that could work. Among anything, it was something to go on. Desmond nodded to them as he squeaked out once more in both excitement, and also preparedness.

He turned to Fiske as he said, "Let. Go".

Before turning to Laska and trying to give a honey badger thumbs up. Their plan worked.

Whatever it was from the beginning.

"I'll stay behind and deal with this carcass," offered Fritz, and he and Manfred exchanged a handshake and half-hug combo that ended in a couple of backslaps. "Holy shit. Desmond." He shook his head. "Get over here and hitch a ride on my back. You're looking even shorter than usual," he teased.

The direstork seemed to arch an eyebrow, if such a thing was possible. "What?" Manfred rejoined. "You have wings, Sister. Use them."

Erika smiled and shook her head. "What if someone else wants to bag himself a direstork?" she queried. Still, she felt a pull towards the man-turned-badger. She knew what it meant, but she couldn't figure out how.

In any case, they set off, Fiske's proud little chest puffed out, his fur ruffling in the wind. They set out for the Colosseum and, hopefully, a solution to their multiple dilemmas.
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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Suicharte
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Suicharte

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Chasing the Sun


Involved: Tommy, Ailet@Force and Fury

On and on stretched Tommy's abyss. On and on it went. His skin grew sallow and his tendons stiff. The world around him, as well, began to die. The grass yellowed, birds lay dead beneath trees, and smaller plants wilted, crumpled, and browned. The water burbled as always in the streams, but it was a fool's gold: the worthless sustenance of an increasingly dead and empty world.

How long this carried on, he could not say, but eventually, even the trees' leaves began to crumple and fall away. Tommy's senses seemed to dull, but he held onto some degree of hope. As macabre as it had been, he'd seen one soul here consume another and be mostly restored.

He almost didn't notice it, or at least not right away, when it finally happened. There was someone else there. He was lying on a hillside, in between two rocks, and he sat up and peered over. It was... it took him a moment to make sense of what he saw, but it was a woman with one leg: tall and thin and probably yasoi. She hadn't seen him yet, or at least gave no indication of such to his hazy senses.

The punished of Oraff were destined to rot, and rot he had. So disheveled he had become that the very beautiful scenery that had surrounded him had also begun to change. The intense hunger and thirst he had felt in the opening days had grown to dull throbs in the back of his conscience, an itch he could never scratch. But still, he persisted in existence though not of his own volition. It helped his mindset to think it was though, for he'd seen a potential way out earlier. The consumption of another. And as barren and desolate as this place had been of souls, one had the misfortune of walking into his midst.

Or did it?

He'd seen three one legged girls in his time in Ersand'Enise, a few more back in Enth though for undoubtedly different reasoning. What caught his eye was the specifics here. A yasoi, reminiscent of another, Was that Tyrel? Or Juulet? Could he eat that? He knew that woman was destined for this hell if he was here, but they were undoubtedly strong, and in his current state, he'd begun to doubt his odds. Still, there was no choice or chances. He wouldn't let the only company he'd seen, or perhaps the last glimmer of hope slip away.

He stumbled and groaned to his feet from lying in the grass, his bones and muscles barely functional at this stage. He wasn't even sure it was them moving, or if this place operated on a different spectrum. He felt as if he was being stealthy. He was not. The grass around him wilted away. The flowers turned to rotted husks. His bones creaked, his flesh squelched and his blood gurgled with every step he took. There was a moment of hesitation. He felt as if he could leap and take her out now. But something made him ask, his voice gravelly and dishevelled from the lack of moisture.

"Tyrel? Please tell me it isn't you." his voice croaked. If it was Juulet, he'd at least feel better about what he planned to do.

The woman whirled at once, a curtain of brown hair swirling about her. "Tyrel? You know Tyr..." From behind a pair of large round-rimmed glasses, her eyes widened and she swallowed. "...el. There was a pause. "Mother Oirase." She had to work to keep her mouth from gaping open, and she was not entirely successful in this endeavour. She took a cautionary step back, drawing energy all the way, and it was clear by now that she was neither Tyrel nor Juulet. She was shorter than either - quite petite for a yasoi - and, where both of the others had a visible stump, she had no trace of a right leg at all.

"You are dead but not," she observed shakily. "And this isn't an illusion," she added after a moment, pushing her glasses up her nose. There was both an instinctual fear and a wondrous burning curiosity to her bearing. Her hand snapped back to the crutch it had momentarily left and her eyes flicked over Tommy a couple of times.

She seemed to have decided something and it was like a switch flipping. "So we are in a place where the laws of nature do not apply." The woman's face lit up and she smiled. "Magnificent," she concluded, "You wouldn't know where, exactly, we are."

She knew her. That was enough for him to hesitate from jumping at her immediately when she turned, and then she drew. It was strong, but not insurmountable. And the sheer amount of time that he'd had down here taught him a lot about the fundamentals of magic. Input was fine, output was... shaky at best. He wasn't the scientific mind this chick seemed to be, glasses and nerd outfit in tow, but when all he had was his own thoughts and body, trial and error was a way to stop him from going insane. Perhaps that was why he was here and not in Shune's hell.

He could win.

As she rambled, he barely listened, getting closer and closer until he was in range, that was, for a sucker punch. If the output was softened, then he could turn this into his favoured terrain. This could be his chance for a getaway. And as the last syllable left her mouth, he lunged and swung at her face, hitting her square in the jaw and knocking her to the ground. Her glasses flew off, cracking from the impact of the blow. It might have been half as hard as he could have hit in his prime, before the rot had set in, but it was more than enough to catch a loudmouth unawares. He stumbled to the ground himself, landing a couple of inches from her before he scrambled to try and prevent her from getting away, grabbing hold of whatever he could reach. Her one leg, a crutch, anything.

He didn't pay attention to whatever one of his hands caught hold of, for he just looked at her and spoke, before rearing his fist back. Something caused him to hesitate. Was it that the sound of another persons voice filled the ever growing loneliness he held? Was it her connection to a friend(and something of a crush) of his? Or was it perhaps that something didn't sit right about this situation. Either way, it made him hesitate before throwing another punch. He waited, to see what reaction would dawn on her face.

"You're right. We're both dead, and I'm pretty sure we're in Oraff's neck of the woods. But, y'see, there's a way out. I just gotta eat ya, and I'll stop rottin'." he choked out, desperation and ego filling his tone.

The situation was not ideal. In fact, it may have rated in Ailet's bottom three, just marginally above the loss of her leg. She had hit the ground hard and now there was a zombie man on top of her, about to punch her again because once, apparently, had not been enough. Her assailant reared back, but then he hesitated, and she forced herself to regard him. She was near-sighted without her glasses, but he and his death-breath were near enough to be seen and smelt clearly. Might this have been the one? He was about the right age. He had the regionally-appropriate accent. He had responded with the expected violence. She decided to take the calculated risk.

"I don't think I've ever had a man offer to eat me, Tommy Kavanaugh, but if you do, I don't think you'll get what you're hoping for." She regarded him, deadpan. "I didn't get here by dying."

As he was about to throw his second punch, he felt a shiver at the words that this strange woman spoke. Again, he hesitated and in fact, his fist came loose. He stopped, and began laughing. The first that wasn't from madness, but from genuine amusement at her 'joke'. It wasn't particularly funny, but he was so starved of human companionship that he smiled. He let his hand rest on the ground a moment. Either this was a trick of Oraff, or she was telling the truth, and by the gods he hoped it was the second. This was punishment enough, right?

"That was too funny to be a trick. And if I wasn't bitter n' dead, I'd 'ave a hell of a response for it." he smiled grotesquely at the girl, and leant back. "Now. If ya not dead, which is probably you copin' to tell the truth, ow'd you get here? And how'd ya know me and Tyrel, but I don't know ya?" he spluttered out, coughs and raspy voice in combination. It was getting increasingly harder to speak, but the fact he still had the stomach for the conversation was promising. And as the words left his mouth, he was content to back off, and give her some space.

V for Victory Ailet had gambled and she had won, though it hadn't really been a gamble at all, now had it? That had instead been an educated guess and she had simply been correct... as she usually was. She could not be smug yet, however, as this disgusting, decaying huusoi was still far too close to her for her liking.

The yasoi scooted back the moment she was released, still holding onto most of her energy, but she didn't get to her foot and try to run. For a moment, she scrabbled about, looking for her glasses, before encountering them, more or less beyond repair. She scowled, examining them for a moment, and her darted warily Tommy's way. Then, the tossed them over her shoulder, sighed, and pulled out a second pair, settling them across the bridge of her nose.

Pulling her singular knee up and looping her arms around it, Ailet worked her jaw about, never completely removing her gaze from Tommy. "Well, now that I'm not on the menu," she began, clearing her throat, "I suppose we should trade questions and answers." She shook her head. "I won't deign to speak for you," she allowed, "but I've no plans on staying here any longer than I need to." The yasoi pursed her lips. "I had theorized this might be one of the heavens or some form of purgatory but, based on the look of you, it can only be hell." She nodded, digesting her own conclusion. "Oirase's hell."

She grimaced and reached absently for one of her crutches, pulling it in towards her, before deciding to answer one of his questions. "As for how I know Tyrel, suffice to say that we were childhood companions." She shrugged. "They stick all us little monopeds together every couple of decades and have a pageant to decide which to bless with the title 'Avatar of Vyshta'." She blinked. "Of course, they murder her before she's twenty-five, but that's poor Tyrel's problem and utterly besides the point. We've our own to solve." She twisted, then, and pulled a flask from her satchel. Eyes flicking Tommy's way, she took a careful sip before screwing it shut. "I theorize that I'm not dead for two reasons: the first is what you just saw: I came here with my items intact. The second is that I got here by biting a black apple of Exiran and, no, it wasn't poisoned." She shook her head. "It was instant. I'd have at least felt poison work. Even the most potent magical sort takes a few seconds." She went to tuck the flask back in.

Tommy listened. He liked to talk, but it was nice to listen to someone after it'd been so long down here by himself. Multiple sets of glasses was a funny gimmick. He muttered a 'my bad' under his breath about it, but he didn't really want to show weakness to someone who could still be an adversary.

The story was interesting though, truth be told. One legged bootcamp sounded like a hell of a ride, far removed from the noble children he'd interacted with at the school. Perhaps that was why Tyrel had that sense of sadness about her. Poor chick. The girls story seemed to check out, and if she was that confident, maybe there was some truth to it. There was the very real possibility again that it was her coping with the situation, but she seemed to have her wits about her, and they'd come here under very different terms.

He let her finish before speaking himself "Since we're exchangin' questions and answers, again, how'd you know me? I'd remember a girl as unique as you, n' I'm not quite rich and important enough to be remembered. Was it my dashin' victory at hte trials?" he smiled, but a cough fought its way out. Damn thirst. Then, something in his brain clicked. Abruptly, he held out his hand and gestured to the flask she drank from "Lemme 'ave a sip. Got somethin' I wanna test." His theory was that if this was water or something else from beyond, then maybe he could actually have a drink and not feel like death. He hoped it was liquor of some kind, but he doubted it with the way this girl seemed to be.

"I know of you, I guess you could say." The yasoi made a face of consideration. "It's been over a week since you died and both Sister Laska and Desmond Catulus disappeared. Word reached me that there were some interesting circumstances." She shrugged. "I'm something of a scientist-in-training. I did my research and went to go find out for myself."

Then, he asked about water, and the one-legged girl regarded him warily. "You're... dead," she advised. "Yet you still crave sustenance?" She held the flask tightly because it was her lifeline. "If I don't drink, I die and start rotting." She went quieter. "Like you, no offense."

She pushed her glasses up her nose. "I have, between this flask and that in my bag, enough to make it through four days, suffering from only acceptable levels of dehydration. My aim is to get out of here - past the demon barrier - by then."

Carefully, she unscrewed the flask's cap. "If theologists are to be believed, the only way to escape a hell is to fight your way through the layer of demons that surrounds it." She poured some water into it. "That should restore you, in theory, to your full abilities, but we'll be hard-pressed to make it there before I start to die and even harder pressed to defeat those kinds of enemies." Finally, tentatively, she held the water out to Tommy. "But I have a theory." She smiled, and he was her lab rat, unequivocally. "I'm willing to lose a bit of time to test it out."

Tommy cocked an eyebrow at her. She'd certainly been prepared for the endeavour, which raised a number of questions in his mind. Desmond and Laska had disappeared? So, they'd lived through the encounter? If he was pronounced dead, and the two had 'disappeared', then, had they also come? If so, where were they? Had he found this girl first by an act of happenstance? Also, there was something valuable to be learned here that his ears did not miss. A week? A joke, surely. For he'd been down here for at least a month, if not three. It was hard to tell, but his perception of time was surely not so damaged? Or perhaps time moved differently here.

Alas, his overactive brain was cooled by her continuous conversation, and reasons not to give him the water. He shrugged at first, but then she offered it to him and he took the cap with a confused smile and very steady hands. He was determined not to spill even a drop of this stuff, even if his joints were rotten and achy.

"The water here's a fookin sham, y'see. You can drink as much as you like, but it won't make the thirst go away. If this is from the outside though, then..." he spoke, drinking from the cap in one straight gulp. He felt the urge to cough and splutter, but he kept it down and he felt a portion of his thirst quenched. Goodness, how long had it been since he'd had that sensation? It felt like years. He would have thanked the gods, but they were the reason he was here, so he directed it to another, this nerdy one legged girl with a thumbs up and a smile. His hands and skin had some colour in them again, and he felt so much better. Not back to 100%, but better.

Then, he had the realization that they were on limited time. He'd been scoping this place out for an inordinate amount of time, and found nothing of value, but he figured he'd share what he knew. "Since we're lookin for a way out of this rotting, stinking, festering fuckin' shithole, I'll key you in. Magic here works badly. Drawin's fine, but expending it is so much weaker. You've got that big ol' yasoi magic, but it's still muted I bet. I've tried walkin' around everywhere, but it's all rotting and stinky. Eatin' and drinkin, as I mentioned before, is fuckin' worthless. And everythin' seems to go on forever, so either there's some illusiony shit, or hell is fuckin' infinite. Would explain why I've seen maybe like 3 fuckers in here." he rambled his findings to the girl, hoping for some sort of scientific discovery from a brilliant mind, but he doubted it'd help. Still, he had an obligation from the water.

"How do you feel?" the yasoi asked, pulling on a pair of gloves. "Does it match the appearance?" She leaned in very interestedly and reached out to touch his arm.

"Way fookin better after that, lemme tell ya." he spoke, the cheeky smile of the man who once was returning to him again. Then she leaned in and touched him, and he felt an all too familiar tingle of something he'd damn near forgotten about. Even in hell, his lechery had not gone away, but he did not act. He merely enjoyed the view, and responded to her second question. "Sorta. Not as painful as it looks, but that might be because I'm a 'ard bastard, or cos it's a slow process n' all." She blinked. "Well, I'd mean in terms of the restoration, not the decay." She pushed her glasses up her nose. "Your skin pigmentation and firmness." He blinked right back at her, but only with one eye, before reaching out to touch his skin himself. He felt pleasantly surprised by the results. "Yeah, feels 'bout right." he smirked, succesfully holding in the dirty joke that was racing through his mind. He was back, at least for a litte while. "Should it not?"

She glanced up at him and grinned. "No, this is an optimal result." The girl pursed her lips. "But, say, you mentioned this place being 'stinking' and 'rotting' a moment ago." She drew back. "That is not at all what I perceive, unless we have vastly different standards for such." She considered. "You're from... Brindland, correct?"

"That's good news." he responded, smiling in his own right. Then came the next part - that there was something strange going on here that he had no idea how to wrap his head around. And then, she had to hit him where it hurt - his homeland. A pang of shame came from his voice, but also resolute defensiveness. "Yeah, and? I'm an expert on the fuckin' subject, doesn't mean ya have to say it. It's not thaaaat bad... and anyway, how the fuck would ya know different parts of Enth?" he ranted on and on, but in his mind, he came to the same conclusion as her. It was very much a case of different perception, which meant that could be a clue on how to find the way out."I believe in assiduous preparation," the yasoi replied, "and the power of knowledge." She waved dismissively. "But on the point of what we see." She sniffed. "That tree over there." She pointed over her shoulder. "What does it look like to you?"

"Yeah, yeah." he said, waving his hand at her initial response, but then he gazed upon the 'tree'. Hardly a fitting word for it at this point. It looked like shit and it smelled like shit. So, that's what he'd describe it as. "Like I picked up a story book, and that big ol' black dragon from the Oryflam flew out n' took a shit. Fuckin' disgustin', and it reeks too. If this is an illusion or somethin', it's a damn good one because I don't know how you ain't smelling it." he went on a bit too long, and a bit too vividly just because of how fed up he was of being here.

"Yeah, yeah." he said, waving his hand at her initial response, but then he gazed upon the 'tree'. Hardly a fitting word for it at this point. It looked like shit and it smelled like shit. So, that's what he'd describe it as. "Like I picked up a story book, and that big ol' black dragon from the Oryflam flew out n' took a shit. Fuckin' disgustin', and it reeks too. If this is an illusion or somethin', it's a damn good one because I don't know how you ain't smelling it." he went on a bit too long, and a bit too vividly just because of how fed up he was of being here.

"It's green and vibrant for me. There are birds in it, too." She regarded him evenly. "I can hear them chirping, though they seem rather... distressed." She scowled thoughtfully at the end. "There's not a hint of that for you?" "Nah. They're fookin dead... poor buggers can't even rot. Well, are they even poor buggers? If they're alive on your side, then... nah. I don't get it." he spoke, scratching his chin, utterly puzzled about how this would even work. "Nah. They're fookin dead... poor buggers can't even rot. Well, are they even poor buggers? If they're alive on your side, then... nah. I don't get it." he spoke, scratching his chin, utterly puzzled about how this would even work.

The yasoi closed her eyes, as if she was concentrating. She was reaching out to sense energy and, after a moment, she opened them again, satisfied. "I can sense no illusion here," she concluded, "so that either means that there is none to sense or that whoever's behind it is simply too far beyond us to comprehend." She considered. "We sgould test this," she decided. "The grass is all green for me. You?"

The yasoi closed her eyes, as if she was concentrating. She was reaching out to sense energy and, after a moment, she opened them again, satisfied. "I can sense no illusion here," she concluded, "so that either means that there is none to sense or that whoever's behind it is simply too far beyond us to comprehend." She considered. "We should test this," she decided. "The grass is all green for me. You?"There was a small pause. "If we're pickin options, I prefer the second on that one. Otherwise, why even try?" he gestured with his hand to the side. "Can barely call it that at this point. Looks fuckin' wilted and sad. If grass could be sad, that is?"

"In Mother Tarlon, grass can be sad," Ailet replied, deadpan. She pushed her glasses up. "There's sad... and then there's whatever the fuck that is. Even where you're from, that can't be grass." he paused, genuinely evaluating if there was a place that he too could make fun of as an Enthishman. Then, he figured he'd play along as well in this strange game of I spy.. "How 'bout the stone over there? Used to be mossy for me, but now it's dead n' bare." Ailet nodded. "Tarlon is a... very special love child of Mother Oirase and lord Exiran," she replied, but then she furrowed her brow. "Well, actually, it's due to the unique climactic factors of its position in the prevailing winds, the presence of an inland sea, and the high rainfall it experiences. The combination of these factors has triggered a cascade effect leading to greater energy availability and, consequently, a significant increase in the density of manas such that they even inhabit the vascular systems of flowering plants and trees." She reached down to toy with the grass beside her knee and, for a flicker of a moment, as it was wrapped around her pale, slender fingers, Tommy could see it: fresh and green and living. Then the yasoi girl shrugged. "Oh! And to answer your question, the rocks are quite mossy for me. It appears, in fact, that nothing is the same..."

Tommy shrugged and let the girl rant. There was nothing wrong about loving your hometown, and it kept his brain quiet as it atttempted to keep up with hers. Then, he saw a clue to the situation. When she'd touched the grass, he saw it the way she did. "Hold on a fuckin' minute. It changed when you picked it up, just for a sec. Look at me, does it do the same thing for ya?" he spoke, kneeling down and grabbing a handful of the 'grass' that remained.

Ailet stiffened for a moment, eyes narrowing as she observed. "The phenomenon you're reporting: I'd assumed it was just some sort of halo of death around you or something else suitably hellish." She rose all at once, bolting to her foot, and hopped three bounds towards the tree, not even bothering to gather her crutches. She placed her palm against the trunk and, before Tommy's very eyes, the tree was green and verdant. She had only to regard his reaction and her face lit up with a smug curiosity. "I fucking knew it!" she crowed. "Tommy boy, get over here and touch the wood."

He grinned at her. Halo of death sounded cool, but it was somewhat adorable seeing this nerd hop around. Then she touched the tree, and his eyes went wide again. More testing was necessarily, and some more things came to mind in regards to this little game they were playing, but then she walked, or rather, hopped right into a joke. He'd held his tongue for the first one, but he couldn't on this. "I'll touch the wood if you touch mine." he spoke with a smile and a hint of a giggle, before going over and laying his hand on the tree.

Ailet blinked. "Mr. Kavanaugh," she stated, "if you wish to have sexual intercourse with me, I'm amenable, but perhaps it might wait until your equipment is in slightly more pneumatic condition." She glanced up at the tree. It appeared to her as it usually did. The moment that Tommy touched it, it reverted, for him, to its dead state. Then, the yasoi removed her hand and she gasped. "How exciting!" She clapped. "How ghastly." She turned his way. "I now see it as you do."

His giggle was interrupted by her comment. Then, his eyes went wide and both eyebrows went up. I mean.... no, Laska was searching for him right? And what was that response? There was a sense of utter confusion until it clicked that she was not quite right of mind. But he didn't need someone right of mind right now, he needed a smart crazy person. And that's just what he had on his hands. "My mother warned me about women like you." he spoke, chuckling to himself as something immediately came to mind. They'd only considered things that they could touch. He looked up and pointed to the sky. "What about the sky? The sun? Look the same for ya? We can't reach up there at the same time, unless my equipment's 'new-magic' condition somehow gets to top form right now.""

"Your mother was right to warn you," the girl admitted. "I am not in high demand as a partner." She shrugged and wrapped an arm around her midsection, waving the comment off with her other. Then, he came up with the most intriguing proposition. Her hand snapped to her chin and she stroked it. "Hmm." Paradoxically, her eyes widened and narrowed at the same time. "Yes!" she exclaimed. She hopped a couple of steps and, then, with a pull of magic, her crutches snapped to her hands. "That might be the key here."

She nodded slowly and began pacing. "If the Gods made this place, or the demons, or whoever - pick your religious fancy." She rolled her eyes. "Why, then they'd have given themselves a way in or out, just in case, right?" She grinned, still pacing, turning unpredictably on her heel. "An entrance to this hell's demonic layer." She stopped abruptly and fetched a second pair of glasses. These were large and tinted. She looked at the sky: right at the sun, in fact. "You're either a genius or an imbecile, Thomas Kavanaugh, but I've just had the most absurd notion..."

"Nah, she was wrong. Bad taste on her part for sure." he offhandedly commented, not staring into the sun directly. That was one that she was right about. He then shut up as she began to think of something. It wasn't answering the question, but perhaps he'd given her the fuel to do that for him as she pranced around, crutches in hand. Then, she changed the glasses and he laughed again at the absurdity of it all. Admittedly though, they looked pretty fucking cool and he wanted a pair himself. Still, he saved that thought for a more appropriate time, just like the invitation for a fun time.

"Whaddya think I am? And what're you thinkin right now? Is the sun some sorta entrance? Even if it is, doesn't make me feel brighter bout the situation, y'know. It's pretty fuckin high up, no? Don't think we got the output to fly that high."

"From a strict perspective of physics, we've no chance in hell." She shook her head tightly, but then she smiled, twisting to face him. "Fortunately, we've already established that this place has some very unique rules." She switched out her glasses and began pacing once more. "They wouldn't want to have multiple entrances. That leaves more room for things to go wrong and bad boys like you to escape." Finding a large pebble, she kicked it his way. "You've been here how long, you'd say?"

"Fuckin' months at this point, maybe two?" he spoke, and then he paused and comprehended what she was saying. It began to click. "Don't need that same question for ya, yer a fuckin' genius. Make it seem impossible and no-one'll try." The yasoi winked. "Now, Tommy-boy," she continued, "What happens when you're on low ground and the sun is near the horizon?" She appeared almost giddy at the notion she was cooking up. "No fuckin' shot... I'm a dumbass. It's been sitting in that same fuckin' spot the entire time. Why'd I... ahhh, fuck it." he spoke, biting his rejuvinated knuckle a little in frustration. But, this is exactly what he needed. "I get what'cha sayin. We just gotta head that way, right?"

"Yes! You've been here long enough to get the lay of the land. You know it all!" She grinned and flicked some hair. "We need to find the highest, steepest hill and approach it from a direction where the sun perches just perfectly on its crest."

She started moving at once, all manic, excited energy, but then she paused midstep, swinging back onto her foot. "Wait. Say, I haven't even told you my name, have I?" She tilted her head. "Come to mention it, yeah, you 'aven't. Thought you were embarassed about it or somethin', y'know. Had a mate named Herbert and he fuckin' hated it. Went by a nickname for a few weeks, we 'eard his mom call him it and that was it for him. Poor bloke." he ranted, putting his less decayed hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Can't be worse than that, and I owe ya one for the quick thinkin', so I won't rip on you if it is."

She blinked. "Oh, I just viewed you as a potential enemy before, and expendable, and then I forgot." She blushed. "It's Ailet. Ailet'yrash'andarii." Ailet shrugged and went to collect her backpack again. "Anyhow, you have a spot in mind? We should probably head there - maybe look to pick up some other useful souls on the way. I can't imagine we've an easy task ahead of us." Tommy crossed his arms and pretended to be upset. "Expendable? Thought we had somethin' special from first punch!" he laughed, and then she said the name. "Oh, is the middle thing somethin' special? Cos Tyrel had the same name I think, and you one legged chicks are a fuckin delight." he spoke with genuine admiration. He let his hand go, and gestured to a place he'd ventured around three weeks back, a little before he became despondent with the situation. "That-a-way, I think. Wouldn't get ya hopes up about others though, you're like one of three other people I've seen, and the only one that's been any conversation."

Ailet shrugged. "Oh, it means 'one leg', literally." She shouldered her backpack as she crouched. "We yasoi aren't terribly creative with names, to be honest." When Tommy gestured, she rose and her eyes followed. "Any idea how long a walk it is, or have you lost all sense of direction?" She adjusted the backpack's straps. "Any landmarks?" She took an abortive first step and pursed her lips. "Dare I ask what happened with the others..." she remarked. "Everythin' looks the same, but there was points that were higher. Think it was in this direction, and as for time, no fuckin' clue. I didn't think to keep track, just know that it's a while away." he paused his speech, but his legs continued to move. "As for the others, well, I got that idea to eat'cha from one of em. That fucker ate the other that I saw, n' then ran off. Didn't get the chance to ask, nor did I particularly wanna." he remembered the grisly details of the situation clear as day.

Ailet grimaced, but then she nodded, businesslike. Slipping out of the cuffs of her crutches, she propped them against her legless side for support and freed her arms. She reached up and began gathering her hair into a ponytail. "Well, doesn't look like we have much choice anyway, unless we're totally wrong. We need to get there and daylight's..." She let out a snort. "Well, not exactly, I suppose." Then, when she was done, she gripped her crutches again and started moving. "You lead me and I've got your back. We trust only each other, and not any others we might see."

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A Night of Splendor


Event: White Thresher: Central Alliance | Location: Zengali

The Parade


After curing the soldiers with Lyre, they look toward him like a miracle worker. It wasn’t exactly incorrect, his did use a divine artifact to heal the sick with ease. Now surrounded by men and women singing his name when they had previously cosigned themselves to death, he started to feel truly blessed. But it was important in success to receive it with humility and grace…

Who was he kidding?


Leon had twenty minutes to learn a thirty-minute dance routine in the parade. That was forty seconds per minute of dance. While there were repetitions in the choreography that eased the task, it would be a death sentence to any amateur performer. But he was no amateur and made a frequent habit of improvising his moves during shows. This was no different really.

It was fortunate that he knew a few things about dancing in Mezegol. He had been here only a few times before but enough to pick up trends in their style. Plentiful energy and natural percussion through actions like stomping made most Constantian dances seem languid by comparison. Was it enough to learn the dance properly? Hell no! But he could fill in the blanks such that he didn't flop like a fish out of water.

Besides, there was a great benefit to the lesson being so brief, he had an excuse. Leon didn't care for blending in with the crowd, doing the same moves as everyone else, he needed to stand out. If losing to the White Thresher was the norm then why would he ever wish to present himself as that? He would bring change and that needed to be reflected in all things, even in dance. The young ones who wished for variation and difference could look upon him with admiration. As for the old ones who stuck to tradition, well... he just wasn't given enough time to learn the dance. It couldn't be helped.

Even the vuvuzelas, a dreaded instrument for the tone deaf and those who wish to be deaf, was no hindrance to the Sun King's spirit. If anything, this was the perfect time for them. Although the underlying drums were well played, the music was secondary. The blaring hell-horns were used for one reason and one reason alone, building the energy. Leon had no complaints. The night was electric with the spirit of Zengali.

And so, Leon danced the traditional dance down the parade street and made it his own. But he was not done.

"Fantasia Serenade" The pausing of light emanated from Leon and began to spread across the parade. Red with a fractionate delay then orange with a slightly longer one. After a few seconds yellow with a fractionate delay then green a little longer. Then repeated for blue and purple before cycling back to red and orange. The effect given was that of mono-coloured clones trailing slightly behind the marchers. Not trailing too far behind that it would disturb the people behind and disrupt the march. Not too many colours at once such that the marchers could still perceive themselves.

Then came the trails of light. Streaks of all colours flashed across the sky and weaved through the crowds.

Luminescence truly is a wonderful school.

Leon's moment arrived toward the latter end of the march; the drums finished with a decisive thwack! Those new to these parades may have thought it concluded; that assumption didn't last long as the percussion began again with a quiet rumbling to herald in a grand display. Leon hadn't even told Raimy the full extent of the plan. In some respects, it would be a surprise to all. He placed the Sun King mask onto his face within the obscurity of the warriors. His smile beamed with anticipation.

From the crowd's perspective, there was a flash of pale light across the sky as a gigantic White Thresher was depicted floating overhead. The drums picked up more as the crowd admired the display, some were excited by the spectacle and some stood fearful the beast's image. The colourful flares that danced among the crowd swirled around a central point before coalescing into a single figure flying up above the march. The Sun King bathed in radiant, golden light rose to meet the White Thresher while the flares, which now resembled a group of Zengali warriors with spears raised, followed right behind his charge. A formidable ray of sunlight emitted from the Sun King's prop spear to pierce the mighty beast and, in its defeat, it exploded into a prismatic bloom that bathed the audience in the glow. Leon stayed a while longer in the air and admired the crowd admiring him, there was no greater happiness than this.

It wasn't just for show though. To present himself slaying the White Thresher in the parade was nothing short of a declaration. The beast that caused these people so much tragedy would fall tomorrow and the Sun King would be the one to bring about that change. If they looked for a hero to save them from their troubles, then let them bear witness.

And as the thresher erupted, so too did the drums. The parade would march on and Leon flew back down to join them.



The Market



The warriors of the parade celebrated a performance well done in the market. The paint and oil made it an unwise decision to dress back up. They remained with chests bare in spite of the daylight which had retreated well below the horizon. The colder night air had little room to chill them however, the heat of the dance soundly remained in their bodies far past its conclusion. Even Raimy, who had been as mild-mannered and soft-spoken as it comes, had been swept up in the electric night.

But then he looked away somewhere. Then again in the same spot. And again a bit later.

The noble's shifting gaze caught Leon's attention. It looked familiar to him but it only lasted a moment, so he didn't mention it. When it happened again, he had a better look at what was happening. Leon knew it well, the longing stare of a man in love, or perhaps just a crush. A subtle smile took his face. When Raimy's looked a third time, Leon suddenly shifted and their heads were practically next to each other. The performer followed his friend's line of sight... and saw Alberta.

Aha! Like a puzzle piece shifting into place, Leon finally felt like he understood the man. Sure, Raimy had gone to the encampment to help suffering people and stop the risk of his people suffering at the hands of the plague. But a far greater purpose had driven him to those tents, love. He almost certainly was head over heels in love with this woman and used his healing abilities to try and impress her. It was the objective truth.

It reminded him of a popular Torragonese novel titled 'A Soldier's Peace'. In the book, a young woman joins the war effort as a medic in the hopes that she would keep the boy she liked, who was conscripted, alive. The story had some heart-breaking highs and lows that made for a beautiful romance. It then proceeded into 150 pages of smut, which didn't bother Leon in the slightest.

One can't escape the eyes of Ipte behind a medic's tent, Raimy Leon thought, a direct quote from the book. Nice try.

"Aaaah, a Revidian flower has caught your eye. They do bloom nicely this time of year." He looked to Raimy with a knowing smile, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "It would be a shame to let her sail out to the White Threser without a dance, no? She does seem rather busy, but I'll see what I can do about that if you like?"

Surrounded by the music of the festival and the common bond between him and the other warriors, even Raimy found himself swept away with the mood. He thought his glances were hidden in the chaos. But no, the one who he had invited into the parade caught him staring.

The other warriors couldn't understand Leon. Though they understood Revidian, and all started to laugh. They said a few word, throwing little jabs at Raimy before leaving Raimy with Leon.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I have no idea just what you are talking about." Underneath his hand was a small grin.

Leon looked about and saw that their conversation was now private. "I think you have a pretty good idea of what I'm talking about." The performer winked. "So, do you want me to put in a good word or no?"

"No," his voice stressed, "I rather not put any stress on her right now." Raimy seemed to be contemplating his reasoning at the moment.

How cute it was that Raimy cared for the woman's health, even if it was an obvious excuse to save his own nerves. "I've played at a lot of small villages Raimy and for every young couple sharing a dance there is a small collection of older ladies snickering a plan well executed. Some call them meddlesome women, but I consider them among Ipte's strongest soldiers." He grinned back at the noble. "What I'm saying Raimy is that a romantic night can appreciate a helping hand and she could use a break." He pointed at Alberta and got the noble to look away to her.

When Raimy looked back, the performer was already gone and well on his way over. "Trust me," Leon called back "I know what I'm doing."

Raimy found himself reminded of his old caretaker from how Leon spoke so positively of those pesky women. He found them unnecessary, surely Ipte would find him when the time came. "And I'm saying Ipte has little presence with both of us while that thresher lives," he looked up to see him already going over. He lifted a hand to reach out but was caught off by the newly placed rose. And like that Leon was out of reach.

He could have stopped him, he really could've.



Alberta had been going around with a small cart collecting provisions for the encampment. It was clear she was struggling to adjust to using a single arm given her recent disability. She was stopped by Amani Juma's food stand and had already collected up on the basics, meat, vegetables, and fufu. But she purchased several doughnuts as treats for soldiers who were on death's door earlier today, a rapid recovery was worthy of reward. Struggling with the final bag, she turned to place it in the cart only to find the 'Sun King' Leon Solaire leaning against it.

"Someone has a secret admirer." He said with a smile and a playful tone that told her the secret wouldn't last long. He got up and helped her with the bag. "I'll give you three guesses. And no, it isn't me."

Alberta held the bag in place for a few moments, registering what was just said to her. Instead she shifted gears, handing him the bag to put in the cart, "It's good to see you Leon, thank you once again for what you did for my men." she put her arm over her heart and gave genuine thanks.

Leon bowed his head politely and tucked the bag in nicely on top. It was only then that Alberta got to the nonsense that he started with, "What?"

"I said you have a secret admirer. Aren't you interested to find out who?"

Alberta pulled out coin purse, "Not really but continue," and preceded to count out her dues to Amani.

A secret admirer was an inherently intriguing matter. How could she have little interest in something like that? Perhaps he hadn't done a good enough job enticing her. "What if I said he was a prince?"

She mouthed 'thank you' to Amani before setting aside her purse to look a the gossiping performer, "Then I would ask what a prince sees in a one armed Revidian soldier," as she gestured with her only arm.

"Who am I to say the beauty he sees? I saw a man in admiration, he's a good man and I don't question his authenticity." Leon leaned back against the cart and sighed nonchalantly. "We have an abundance of one-legged women in Ersand'Enise and they seem to find their fair share of admirers just fine. I don't see why you should be any different."

Alberta raised a skeptical brow at first but then relented. The one-legged girl in her town did end up marrying a noble somehow so maybe their was some hope. "I'll give you that Leon, some men do have odd tastes," she more or less referenced people's infatuation with him in general, "But which one of my men could have grown so fond to be an admirer?"

"Well he isn't one of you men," Leon explained yet he thought with a streak of deviousness that he didn't dare speak. "Raimy Dume, son of the Marquis if I'm not mistaken."

She blinked. Alberta was genuinely surprised, "Raimy?" Her tone was slightly higher pitch than normal. She put her hand up to her chin and frowned, "Are you sure? Is this just a game for a new song you are making?" she asked with hesitation. This was new to her, never even considering this before.

The pitch change didn't escape Leon's notice, he struck gold. "Oh, I will be making a song about it." Despite the honesty of the statement, he still shoot the military woman a cheeky grin. "But honest feelings make the best songs. It's no game, I assure you." Leon's unabashed nature was very peculiar to the Revidian woman. No 2nd meaning or plan that she could see. Just saying things so flatly, it was surprisingly refreshing. The idea played in her head and it was... pleasant.

Leon clapped his hands together joyfully. "So what do you say? A dance or two with a prince?"

"I might be amendable for one dance," she allowed. Alberta still seemed reserved about the whole situation then looked to her cart, "I'll search for him after I deliver the food to my men."

"Hmmm, let's try for two. And I'll deliver the food myself on the second one." It was clear now that he was just seeing what he could get away with. "It's going to be a big day tomorrow, we will need you in top shape. So instead of exhausting yourself with this, see where the night takes you and leave nothing unsaid." The performer got a little carried away with the last part. It was delivered with joyful encouragement, but one might have got the impression that the words held a deeper meaning to him, a barely noticeable tinge of his own regrets.

He caught himself and corrected back to nonchalance. "Let's be honest, you could use the break anyway."

Alberta looked at the 'Sun King' unamused at his final bit of antics. But she found Raimy amongst the crowd, her eyes softened as Alberta saw him holding a rose for her. Maybe she was being too harsh on the young man? She looked at the excuse she tried to pull and sighed, "Take the food their right away and I'll see to a second dance," looking back at Leon for a moment then back at Raimy. Her voice stayed steady but it was easy to tell that she wanted to dance now.

"I wanted to play the first song..." Leon said longingly. He thought about what he could say, but Alberta's requests were reasonable and he had nothing more to angle. She wanted to dance, it was obvious in her body language. She should choose the tune she wishes for it. "But I will do as your heart desires... It isn't every day you get a world-class performer as an errand boy."

"Then find someone that you can play with," she said with now her own playfulness, walking away to Raimy. "Remember, the food needs to be hot Leon."

Leon clutched his chest in feigned heartbreak as she denied his offer. "You break my heart, signora." But a smile at the end told her there was no hard feelings.

Raimy saw Alberta approaching him and he stepped towards her. An awkward smile came to his face as he offered her the rose. Alberta held the rose as they talked, smiles on both their faces, melting away the hardened soldier and burdened noble. Just 2 people with a mild interest in each other having been stoked by the hand of Ipte tonight.

Alberta placed the rose in her hair and took Raimy by the hand. The dance was slow at the start, neither have danced with a partner missing an arm. It was clumsy but soon they got the rhythm, bounding with each other in almost a frolic. It was an unabashed time for the both of them as a mix of laughs and giggles could be heard from them having a night somehow to themselves during the festival. Just two people letting Ipte move them before before Eshiran called them tomorrow.

Leon didn't leave right away. For a time he leaned against the cart and simply watched the two's budding feelings bloom into a sweet spring flower. Simple and sweet like a daisy, just as it should be. One could point out that Leon had set up the single heir of Zengali with a Revidian woman. One could see it as a calculated action to slowly bring the city into the nation's influence. But he would have done the same if Alberta was Perrench, right? Only Leon would truly know the answer to such a question. Maybe it lay somewhere in between that and authenticity. Either way, if there was to be another 150 pages to this story, it wasn't going to happen with him around. He had food to deliver and it had better be hot.



"Your captain, she's a cruel mistress I'll tell you that." The performer joked to a receptive soldier while handing out food. "She's got me running around doing chores and I don't want to know what happen if I can't get them done." The soldiers nodded in feigned commiseration, it was all in good fun.










The House among the Trees


When the music of the festival became a distant thought and the quiet began to speak, Leon took the time to think, for it was rare to gain such an opportunity. He had increasingly been stretched thin as of late, to and fro and to once more. Time for quiet and time for friends was something to be fought for as opposed to something he could just have. So when the situation presented itself to take that time, he did.

Ersand'Enise, whom many other students called home, couldn't provide him a moment for his thoughts. He did not consider the city of mages as a home, it was and had always been a battleground for him. Perhaps the only stationary place where he found true peace was that apple orchard from so many years ago. He hadn’t been back there since his grandmother passed, but maybe that could be considered home. He thought of Kaureerah. Could he take her to that orchard someday? Would he ever find the time? He hoped she was safe.

He sat beneath a peach tree plucking the strings of his lute absentmindedly as the fireflies danced to the disjointed tune. Every chord and every melodic progression scrapped before they had even begun. This wasn't to say that any of it sounded bad. It was quite nice for the short moments they lasted, and yet they were discarded all the same as if the performer sought perfection in tune that no mere chord could satisfy. But he had written plenty of music before, in fact, most of his work had been improvisation played out into completed works. What feelings had he hoped to capture in a song that made perfectly fine notes subject to flippant disregard?




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Hidden 7 mos ago 7 mos ago Post by Jumbus
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Death on the Seas


Event: Castaway | Location: On the Water




Pirates on the Blue Adam scurried to load a second volley for the Virangish sea dogs. Cawuio-Zast stood atop his gunpowder barrel laughing as cannonballs fell out of his jacket into the palms of the deckhands. The ship had taken the lesser portion of damage in its exchange with the Altın Oğul and confidence was booming. The oncoming volley had been suitably deflected by Anthal and Enoxi who shared a look and smile, and the stray shots that passed through the defence were already being repaired below. Despite the chaos and high adrenaline, they were all in high spirits, all except Sanette and the captain.

Zast had noticed the two had been talking for some time and the subject matter seemed far from pleasant given the concern on the woman's face. What got her so caught up? It was obvious that she was a tethered, Zast had heard those people have some kind of greater perception capability but hell if he knew what that meant or what exactly she had perceived that the others hadn't.

The captain finished the short word with his tethered daughter and joined the crew loading the cannons. He spoke his plan plain and clearly, and the more Zast heard the more his toothy grin grew.

Ren could only just see the visage of the green little rodent creature he portalled in with on the other ship. The traitorous mutt must have swam to that ship the second they landed in the water because he was already going about his business with the pirates. It was hard to see but it almost seemed like the Cazenax turned to smile at Ren directly. Did it just wink at him or was he seeing things?

Ren stood on top of the deck of the ship, hair being blown in the wind. Even with his presence, the situation was far from ideal. He snapped his fingers to Mountain Goat, and produced a spyglass from his companion's pouch with the use of the gift, to get a better look at that disturbing little swamp creature. It was hard to make out if it was a wink or not, but there was a feeling about him that suggested unease. What was he playing at? He sheathed the spyglass and turned to the Captain and First Mate.

"These rats are up to something. Hold the next volley and brace for impact." he spoke, stopping himself from snapping his fingers at them. Even if their lives were in his hands, they weren't his slaves. It'd become instinctual on his part to command other humans as one does pets, but his mind was oddly clear. Filled with purpose and the mission to rise beyond the cowardice of the others who'd come here. If he was the only one that respected the job, then he'd get it done. He didn't need the others.

And as clear as his mind was, perhaps due to that nagging in the back of his mind, he heard it. The Captain and the First Mate as well as others braced themselves with their magic, binders and were already prepared to do the brunt of the work. Yet, the cannons of the Blue Adam felt.. painfully ordinary as if there was no magic. Then, a colossal crack of thunder was heard from the other side of the water and he had next to no time to react.

Perhaps a lesser man might have seen their life flash before their eyes. Dreams of love, compassion, friends and family surrounding them, reliving their best memories. He was not a lesser man, for he'd not resigned himself to death. He looked onward and his eyes went wide with surprise as an extremely fast hurtling ball of steel came straight for him. The entire might of his gift was immediately put into action to place the ball into stasis, but this had been ramped by several mages. He could not simply crush their efforts as individuals, as the spinning ball began to cut through his gift. Again, he tried, and again, he failed. Fractions of a section passed and he saw it gain closer and closer. Sheer determination wasn't enough.

The veins on his head began to pop in exertion as he cursed to himself, but he took no notice of it. His pride was wounded as he was forced to redirect the ball before he became pulp. The cannonball curved and hit a deckhand to the side of him, leaving a hole inside of the young man. A sailor and son of Virang was practically bisected before the attack skidded across the water as if it were a rock skipped by a child, for such was the kinetic force behind it. He'd redirected a lethal focused attack, and he felt nothing but shame and anger. These... worms had managed to mount a suitable offence, and he'd been forced to respect their efforts.

Or did he feel something? A young soul who he'd sworn to protect had suffered as a result of his inability.. nay, they'd suffered because the churls of the enemy had mounted a sneak attack. That was the reason, surely. The spray of his blood mist and whatever was coating the cannonball bounced against the kinetic repulsive barrier he'd erected for himself, remaining suspended midair before falling to the ground, but some of the remnants sizzled against the deck of the ship, mixed with the young man's blood. A grisly sight, but not one that he spared his eyes on longer than necessary.

There was moisture on his skin. Had he begun to fear?

'Am I sweating from these... filthy creatures?'

He dabbed it with his fingers and sniffed, only to find that it was the same smell that surrounded them, the ocean. A smile took his face. Of course these vermin couldn't threaten him. He laughed to himself softly as he looked through the spyglass and found his target, Enoxi. Of course, he didn't know her name, but he saw her smile in 'triumph' and he would bring her back to reality.

"Captain, first mate, give the order to fire." he spoke, with a certain coldness to his tone, and a snap of his fingers at the order. He began to draw again, all the way. If they wanted to focus everything on him, he would accept this challenge. The volley from the Altın Oğul fired at full force, with a notably exceptional cannonball headed straight for that girl who had smirked smugly in her 'victory'

The pirate ship rocked significantly before the Virangish cannons even fired, leading many on either side toward confusion. Those daring enough to spare a glance to the ocean saw that the threshers had stopped their orgy and begun a coordinated assault on the Blue Adam's hull. One of the smaller threshers was even so worked up that it was ramming its head continuously against it to the point blood filled the water. One could only guess what had caused this natural phenomenon, perhaps threshers were offended by blue flags as bulls were to red capes. Only those who knew Raffie or remembered her graceful mounted entrance would be able to guess the truth.

But also, those who knew threshers or the powerful draw of an orgy could tell this boon wouldn't last long. Pressing the sudden advantage, the Virangish fired at the turmoiled pirates.

The cannonballs soared at incredible speed toward the Blue Adam. Enoxi, the girl in Ren's crosshairs, seemed to be focused on keeping the ship safe and ignorant of the maliciously aimed shot. Ren could blink and imagine it taking the pirate girl's head. But instead of that, Anthal was there holding her by the time the Virang noble opened his eyes once. The shot had been suspended in the air due to the Yasoi man's efforts and harmlessly dropped to the depths below, blessing a thresher with blunt force trauma.

Ren looked across with his spyglass to see that the two had turned to face each other and looked longingly into each other's eyes. It looked like they were going to kiss, there was a battle with lives on the line and it looked like they were going to kiss. Fucking disgusting.

But the assault wasn't fruitless, in Anthal's single-minded efforts to save the girl, a good portion of the Blue Adam had been blown away marking the loss of their advantage. It was anyone's game now.

From atop his gunpowder barrel, Cawuio-Zast looked upon the disgraceful display that had cost the pirates buoyancy. It wasn't that he feared, no, it was that he hated to be disadvantaged for such stupid reasons. "Now is not the time to develop a heart Anthal." He lectured calmly with hands clasped behind his back. "Daddy dearest's boat won't be able to stay up if you do that too often." His grin was poorly hidden by the faux sternness. Zast was trying to get a rise of the Yasoi for no reason in particular...

And it worked. ”Quiet yourself, rat." Anthal snapped back. He gave Enoxi a quick peck and a wink before letting her go and returning to Zast. ”Even for excrement I hold you in low regard. So I certainly don't want to hear what comes out of your mouth.” To accentuate the point, he shoved a finger into Zast's chest and forced the Cazenax to step back.

Zast smirked and simply pointed toward the Virangish ship as if to say 'there's a battle going on, remember.'

Anthal looked around for his father to give the orders, only to find he had disappeared. Where had he gone? It was no matter, he could be a captain in his own right. He called out the orders to prepare another round and hold for an opportune moment.

Ren paced around the deck of the ship, frustrated at the lack of progress that was being made in terms of the pirate ship. The threshers had done a number to their stability, and he was grateful that Raffie had done what she could. She knew her place in the world, and he was grateful that at least one person he was sent with. As for the rest of the cowards that had fled, he spared not a single thought more for them as he continued to do his duty, as the inheritor of the will of the strongest thaumaturge. And the beginning of his legend would start here.

"Prepare the next volley, now. We've got them on the ropes." he spoke, a quiet rage about his tone of voice as again, he looked through the spyglass. The captain was nowhere to be found, and as the swamp goblin disputed with the knife-ears, he felt a smug satisfaction. Chaos was an opportunity for victory, and right now, the Virangish were united in their cause. He wouldn't have to use more than necessary. He wouldn't. The cannonball that he had to deflect would be the last time he'd need to exert himself. They weren't worthy of his higher talents.

Anthal and Enoxi looked at Ren and Ren looked back at them. Working together, they roughly matched the noble's kinetic capabilities and all together they had come to realize the situation. If the opposing side's kinetic mages died, then the battle was won. But if they were to focus their energies entirely on survival, then their ship would be vulnerable to assault. Their choices were between victory and defeat, life or death. To only think of self-preservation was to concede the battle.

Then, an annoying thought came to Ren’s mind. The lovebirds on the other side of the ship, who'd decided that a volley was the right time for a tryst. Were they... mocking him? As if they could be distracted by such matters because HE was the opposition? Did they have no semblance of respect? He let out a deeply bothered exhale for the first time tonight, and a sadistic smile took his visage. The thought that he hadn't experienced such an emotion and it bothered him because of that never occurred to him as even a remote possibility. It was pure arrogance that drove his imagination for the punishment that he would bring upon them. So absorbed in his thoughts was he that he began to speak them aloud.

"You vermin rolled the dice of that goddess you love and lost the bet. And what is a lovebird without another to sing them a song?" he muttered under his breath, as the battle continued to rage. He would be the victor. He would decide their fate, and not even their crippled mockery of divinity would save them.




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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Force and Fury
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A G R I M D I S C O V E R Y

With little else to do and, once again treated like a kid, Rikard decided to investigate the cluster of... something that lay in the middle of the long narrow bay that Zengali nestled around. Skimming a few feet above the water on currents of magnetism, he made his way closer and the strange construction resolved itself into... some sort of houseboat colony partially made up of heavily-augmented floatmelons. They were gaily-painted and appeared actively inhabited. There were - he stretched out his senses - somewhere between eight and twelve energy signatures around the complex and voices rising in conversation and laughter. He caught sight of an eeaiko woman clambering aboard, carrying a net full of fish but, as he as he prepared to land himself, most of the energy signatures winked out suddenly and conversation died with them.

Rikard paused there, danger sense on high alert. It was, in truth, an idyllic place. Long ropes covered in seaweed and mollusks stretched far down into blue waters. Tropical fish clustered in the shade and artificial environment the houses had made, and seagulls bleated and circled overhead. Yet, it was deathly quiet, save for the bubbling of some sort of cauldron. He suddenly found himself feeling like an intruder and, just in case, gathered his energy to create a temporal anchor. It took him at least a couple of tries.

Quietly, he alighted on the central houseboat, abashed at the lack of a door and his invasiveness. From beyond a beaded curtain appeared five people, all eeaiko: the woman from earlier, standing by a hole with muddy - or bloody? - red residue, an old man channeling heat into a crucible, and a pair of children seated at a table. There was a fifth he had sensed but couldn't yet see. He cleared his throat, having drawn, senses on high alert. "H-hi, excuse me?" he began tentatively. "I don't mean to intrude, but I saw this place and was curious..."

The people seemed more surprise that someone came in so haphazardly, save the woman cleaning fish that spotted Rikard earlier. The old man, permanently hunched over but surprisingly wide, turned to the incautious young man, "You come in here, in the middle of our meal." He steps forward with his ladle, an old woman was sitting behind him with a cleaver, "and don't even take off your shoes before coming into my house." He began to raise his ladle to smack the young man.

Rikard stammered. "I-I... I didn't know you had a rule about that. Sorry!" He wasn't even fully inside yet! "Where I come from, we put our shoes on!" He boosted himself backwards, hurtling out of the door. "No offense, really!"

His swing was strong and practiced, he has beaten entire crews with this attack. But he was old and frail now, not even given extra energy from his family. How the patriarch has fallen. The swing cleanly missed and he yelled out "What?!" He was utterly gobsmacked at the dirtiness of this human, "I knew you humans were dirty but this is an offense to Yptee," He was righteously irate at this point, ready to chase him out of the port.

Then a tired voice rang over the old mans, "Oh quiet! You'll ruin the stew!" The old woman cracked a mussel open with her hands, "If the boy is uneducated, than teach him how to enter a house."

The man would argue is the sound of the shell breaking didn't frighten him, he yelled out to the boy, "Wash your face, hands, and feet before you even come in here. Don't want your sick rubbing off on us. AND NO SHOES."

Rikard's eyes darted about alarmedly. My sick!? In truth, he found it all a bit hypocritical, given that this place wasn't exactly sparkling, and he was tempted to leave, but curiosity got the better of him once more. It always seemed to and it rarely ended well. He rolled his eyes, sat down, and took off his shoes outside of the door. "Uh... not to sound rude, but where should I wash them?"

The eaiko woman Rikard saw earlier came out of the beaded door, peering up at him with with curiosity, "I'll show you the way." The woman started to guide Rikard to a blue melon, where their seemed to be a small station with an ever luxurious soap a bucket of water. She washed her hands and face quite normally and then more or less kicked her feet in the ocean, "I take it you know what to do from here?" she teased coy smile though she stood ready to answer if what the boy said earlier was true.

Rikard cleared his throat. "Uh... shoes off and scrub-a-dub-dub before entering?" She was... pretty hot, and he was somewhat distracted, but this person was also making herself available as a resource. He blinked. "Oh yeah, uh... why are you guys so strict with that? I'm just curious. Never seen it before."

The woman rolled her eyes at Rikard though her smile didn't break, finding his flustering almost endearing. "Pretty much!" she responded and stepped out of the way for him. His question was met with a momentary thought of her own, "Well, we are going to eat the our hands so they have to be clean. That's at least the way the people here tell us to eat the food." she answered before taking a look over his shoulder to make sure he was washing correctly, "That and the plague is going around." she nodded her head like the 2nd reason was much more important than the first.

Rikard's eyes widened. "The... plague?" He reached out to sense for any unusual fluctuations in body temperature or chemical imbalances, but the latter was not his best magic. He left his questioning at that, whatever her response might have been and, after washing up, was ready to enter the dwelling... properly, this time.

"Yep," she said with a matter of fact tone. "First it is a cough, then you go green, and then you die." She shrugged it off nonchalantly as she took a big step down into the house, "Be a shame if you caught it too."

Entering the dwelling was less chaotic, they now expected the young man and sat a bowl in between the kids. for him. The old lady from before cheerfully waved her cleaver at him before beheading a fish, "Isn't it so much nicer to be clean? Go on an take a seat and the little ones will teach you how to eat."

Teach me how to eat!? Rikard mused in quasi-alarm. Nonetheless, he remembered his manners. "Uh... yes, and I suppose one can't be too careful if there's a plague going around." He took his seat, cross-legged, between the rambunctious little eeaiko, and regarded the bowl of... food before. "Right, well, I'm all ears." In truth, he was. A plague, but people turning green? It didn't sound like anything he'd ever heard of and, given the thresher's unusual behaviour the immediate question popped into his head: I wonder if you're connected...

The little boy was excited for Rikard, especially because he had been put in charge of teaching the boy. The power he felt was exquisite. The girl on the other side of Rikard was more reserved but only in comparison to the boy. "Alright then-" the boy tried to think of something witty to call Rikard but stumbled. "friend? Yes, a people that can share a meal are friends!" he rebounded. "first you take your right hand, this is the only hand you are allowed to touch food with, if you don't..." A loud bang was produced by the old man to help with the theatrics. The boy and old man start to laugh and the girl takes over.

"Don't mind them they always liked to play jokes," she apologetically waved off her family's embarrassing quarks. "We eat with only our right that way one hand stays clean in case we need to do something," She reached to the mound of food in the center, grabbing a handful, "You take the..." She seemed to be having a hard time finding the words. Her avincian was relatively good but you could tell that she thought of what she said ahead of time and now had to wing it. "Bread? and you spread it in your hand to scoop of the stew." The little girl showed Rikard her doing it carefully and showed that not even an single drop of stew got on her. "Now you try," she encouraged Rikard.

"Yeah, sharing food." Rikard refrained, having little idea what was in there or how it would taste, but morbidly curious at the very least. He took the unfamiliar... bread and opened it into something like a bowl. Reaching out to scoop, he managed to keep his hand more or less out of the slop and, through some form of miracle, not spill a bit. A glob perched perilously on the rim but resisted the tug of gravity with a bit of help from the Gift. Somewhat proud of himself, he raised it as if in toast and lifted it to his lips. Then, he paused. "So, uh... wait. How do you eat this? Is it like... a stew?"

"Like this," the girl placed it on her the bread on her bottom lip, letting it go and eating it. The 'bread' releases very easily from the fingers, leaving only a little bit of oil on the fingers.

When eaten the stew is immediately meaty and well spiced. the bread is slightly sweet, nutty, and potato like. Fish comes in pretty strongly but it is no more offensive than a fish stew. It was an oily stew but not greasy in the slightest. What isn't balanced is the growing burn on the tongue. Not even the spiciest Retanese food he had tried wasn't of any comparison. It was growing by the minute, could the young man handle the heat?

Rikard managed to eat the stew easily enough. It sort of half-melted into the bread and it was... good: really good! The spice built up quickly, however, until his mouth was on fire. Now, normally, he liked spicy food. he could handle it better than most, but this was extreme. He got through the bowl - people appeared to back for seconds and third with their little loaves - and that was when he more or less broke. "Whew," he puffed. "It's good - really good - but it's..." He forced himself to breathe evenly. Someone had lit off fireworks in his mouth. He sucked air in and out. "Spicy," he managed. "You don't have any milk or anything, do you?" His face was as red as a radish.

The entire family had enjoyed the meal but even for some it was too spicy specifically the woman he met who went to pass him some fruit, "Swimming with a pail of milk is a little hard but this should help." The energetic kids were in charge of washing the bowls and left the central room.

"You do well under the heat kid. That was real spicy dear," the old man spoke up, holding his belly like he ate too much. He tried to laugh at Rikard's face but felt a belly ache from the first chuckle. Some peculiar things and oddities stuck out to Rikard in the high of the heat. Everyone ate a lot, it was deliscious after all, but their was still a lot of stew left. The same could be said about the 'bread' that was taken by the kids. They obviously made too much food for a family of 5.

Rikard grinned. "Well, I am adept in arcane magic," he joked, "though even that only helped so much." He took a moment to wheeze. The food was painful. That's all there was to it. He eagerly awaited whatever the kids were soon to return with. he looked about, trying to create a mental map of the place.

Then, it came back to him! He'd sensed more people, briefly, on his way in! He cast about. "Say," he chanced, "When will the others be back?" He looked at the cauldron meaningfully and indicated the extra bread. "Unless these are just leftovers to be restewed..."

"They are to be restewed," the old man shrugged off, not willing to give further reasoning. The old woman gave a playful smack to him, "Oh answer more sincerely, you'll only make him more curious."

The old man sighed, "Fine," he muttered, "We were going to deliver some eaiko that got washed up here because of the thresher." The children had just about made their way back into the room but they stopped upon hearing the conversation.

The woman sighed, "The Marquis hasn't been too kind to us and our people. We can't just watch our kin go hungry like that." She answered truthfully but Rikard could detect their was something else. Differences in their accents were starting to show, even if it was slight.

The youth paused and furrowed his brow. "Not to... pry," he began, "but did some of you arrive that way too?" They seemed to be a bit of a mixed bunch, to be honest, fromt he way that they dressed to the way that they looked and the way that they spoke.

The boy just gave Rikard a weird look, "What? we were born and raised here," he said proudly. his sister chimed in a yeah but her eyes were unsteady, darting to the woman then back to Rikard. She was not the performer her brother and grandpa were.

A silence took the room with the obvious giveaway from the little girl. The woman sat in it until she accepted she had been found out. "Mind taking this outside?" her accent, cadence, or even tone didn't change but it felt vaguely threatening.

Rikard drew energy only very slowly and subtly, just in case, but he didn't expect to have to use it. These didn't seem like bad people, but he recognized that he had stumbled into a secret. With a nod, he politely excused himself and followed the woman outside.

The woman headed up first, past the beaded entryway, past the main ship and all the way to the red floatmelon. She stayed silent for a little, looking at her feat as tossing ideas on what to stay. But eventually she broke the silence.

"So you're Rikard Ambrus," she started, "My name is Laura, I was tailing the Sant'Agata della Compagnia Rossa before the thresher attacked." She watched how Rikard responded, not drawing an ounce of energy in front of the young mage.

Rikard stiffened. "You... know my name," the youth remarked flatly, but then a bit of wonder - and respect - crept into his voice. "How?" He decided to tackle the small question first before reaching the larger one. He had his theories, however, and they were trying to burn their way out of his mind.

"Your name has been in a lot of people's mouth since you came in the top 3 of this year's trials," she answered somewhat straightforwardly but their was a small eyeroll at the boy not realizing his growing status. "The 'How' I want to know is how'd you end up in Zengali now of all times," she crossed her arms and looked at Rikard.

Rikard paused to consider. "Well, never thought I'd be famous," he remarked. Then he grinned. "But I won't complain." When she continued, he shrugged. "I thought it might be a good idea to blow up a beast like that and I happen to have some experience in the field." He crossed his arms, trying to look like a real professional. "A notice was put out and I took up the offer."

"So they let 14 year old mages come and fight a beast that has killed hundreds," her expression tightened in some disbelieve, though not enough to outright question him. She looked from the red floatmelon across the water to the port, "So which side did you come in on?" still crossing her arms but now she looked more at the humans working tirelessly on the port.

Rikard shrugged. "If those fourteen year olds are better than the adults, I don't see why not," he challenged, but then came the real question, and he was keen enough to place a Perrench accent. The boy shrugged easily. He could tell the truth here, which was good, because he was a liar of questionable efficacy at best. "The Perrench side. Rewards were better and I don't like pasta."

She looked at him with a smile then a laugh, "So sided that you don't even like pasta, now that's a lie," she wiped a singular tear from her eye before it could fall. "That's good, I could never hide this forsaken accent." She seem to think about what to say to him past that, he was on the same side but she was still hesitant to speak openly to him.

Instead, she started with the basics, "I imagine you have some questions then?" her arms opening up a little as she dropped the last of her fake accent.

"Well... yeah," he admitted, uncrossing his arms. "Like, for starters, why follow the ship? Are you in the navy or something? Like... a spy?" He glanced about furtively and dropped a sonic bubble over them. "I swear I won't say anything."

Her eyes grow narrow, staring so intensely at Rikard. The bubble came down and then she weighed her thoughts. Rikard could feel a very small use of kinetic energy inside of his bubble. She nodded to herself, "I'll have to believe you for now," she nodded to herself again still followed up with a small bit of kinetic energy used in the bubble. "Yes I'm a spy," she gave a wink at Rikard, only because it still felt cool to herself that she was a spy.

Rikard was about to respond enthusiastically - I guess we're on the same side, then! - but then he felt the kinetic magic and he froze. His eyes narrowed and he reached out with his senses. They were alone, but not. "I guess we can talk about when we're alone, then," he said innocently, shooting her a meaningful look.

She payed attention to the same kinetic signals again and then turned to him, "I mean, you already knew their was more of us, they are just doing their communication." Laure could tell that he wasn't a fan of the not visible thing but what could she do? "Want to continue or come back later tonight?"

He blinked. "You... trust them?" he prodded. "If you do, then I do." He shrugged.

"I know who it is so, yeah," she waved away the concern. This was basic communication they used. Shy comrades were the worst for correspondence. "I serve the Royal Crown of Perrence, and we were tailing the Sant'Agata della Compagnia Rossa because of a lead that came in and now we are stuck here as well." Laure offered.

"What was the lead?" Rikard prodded, suddenly alarmed. "What was it carrying!?" He kept his voice low, but the alarm was clear. Already, the wheels were turning in his head.

She leaned back against a rickety post, only to straighten up when she could feel it spelling her doom, "No need to get that excited. Normal, high value war chest stuff. though some of it seems to be from Callanast. though now we know that wasn't exactly everything." Laure gestured to the encampment.

The boy glanced there involuntarily, and his face shifted. "Holy shit...they're carrying weapons of...of..." Flustered, he struggled to find the correct word. "Biological warfare." His face became grave and serious, the enormity of the situation and the clear moral imperative settling upon his young shoulders like some great weight. Still, Rikard considered, in the way that he often did. "Well - wait a second - if the thresher ate some of the stuff in there..." He trailed off fora moment, regarding her expression for any insight.

Laure just shook her head, "It ate most of the ship and even from that it's worrisome. There is no telling what is happening inside of it." Her voice was leveled but a bit of genuine worry escaped at the end.

"Eshiran willing, it'll turn belly-up before we need to kill it." He let out a bark of nervous laughter and ended it with a shaky sigh. "Damn, that's a messed up situation. Makes me wanna figure it out even more." He shook his head. "Fuck. I need a stiff drink."

Her mind still seem to think on what fighting the beast would be like, her worry was almost palpable. But she shook it off quickly, snorting at Rikard. "A stiff drink?" she was going to laugh it off but went with it instead, "Maybe, but that will have to wait for the festival."

The sun was hanging low in the sky and it wa slooking like he'd have to head over soon. "You're headed there, then?" He furrowed his brow for a moment. "Say, is everyone in there part of your group?" he asked skeptically.

She shook her head no, "No to both, we aren't officially here so showing up at the festival would only cause issues. And they are just a nice family, if not a bit odd."

Rikard considered. "So, then... how many of you are there? Are you gonna be helping us fight the beast?"

"And get in the water with a Bluewater Behemoth with a taste for blood?" she waved off the unpleasant idea, "Only if the royal family themselves demanded that of me."

Rikard laughed nervously. "Yeah, for real. What are the chances of that." he scratched at the back of his head and looked elsewhere for a moment: anywhere else.

"I mean sending a boy here, sure. Sending even a high noble, maybe. But a royal family member on a life or death mission? That be a tale for the ages," she wiped away a tear from the thought. But somewhere, the boys mannerisms had her stomach turn. What if there was one?

Rikard shrugged. "From my experience, a lot of the royals are mavericks." He sighed. "You go to Ersand'Enise, you meet all of these high nobles and stuff you never thought you'd meet and you learn they're all kinda crazy."

The more Rikard spoke, the more Laure grew sure their might be a fucking Royal of Perrence here. It was absurd and flew in the faces of the 5 gods that they would be here. But he was such a bad liar, he couldn't be acting right?

"I couldn't tell you, never met someone above middling nobility and even then it was just to receive orders. Though I would have to say I don't believe any of the royal family of Perrence would be so unwise to come here. Right?" she asked, seeing if he really did know something.

"Penelope, Princess de Perrence, is here," he admitted. "She's rebelling against her family somewhat. There's a Perrench military guy here to protect her, but I think he's in over his head."

Laure strained her eyes, racking her brain for a Princess Penelope but nothing came up at all. Seems like this was either a case of false impersonation or a fib. She could understand, fourteen year old's do that all the time and this one especially. She decided to make a joke of it, believing this to just be a fib but swore to investigate this later. "Don't you mean a Perrench Guy?" she said with a thick Perrench accent.

He blinked. "Haha, yeah. That's actually his name, for what it's worth: Guy Attard." the boy paused and tapped his chin with a finger pensively. "I think he's half Djamantese and like... a sixteenth eeaiko. He was some sort of navy diver."

Many things just clicked for Laure. Many of them she wished didn't. Last she heard he was selling Eshiran's gold in Thalakos. Now he was here in Zengali. He had to come from the same way Rikard did then or else they would have met earlier. Which meant Penelope, Princess du Perrence, was a real person.

She covered up the surprise of the revelation the best she could with her built acting skills but they weren't her strong suit. "Seems my joke was a bit to close to the truth, apologies." she waved off the retrospectively bad joke, hoping the boy would fall for her act.

Rikard shrugged, and then there was a breeze and the sun setting and they were just standing there. "No biggie," he responded, "and, uh... thanks for the food and the hospitality and... all that." Had he understood? Had he not? It might've been hard for her to tell. Maybe he wasn't certain either, but what was certain was that things were winding down and he needed to get back to where he was going, but not without having learned something extremely valuable.



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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Force and Fury
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C O M M U N I C A T I O N B R E A K D O W N

The family that Abdel, Niallus, Oksana, and Johann had so roughly questioned finally caved before the latter's empathetic display. It all came pouring out and matters began to piece themselves together. Johann was quick to fill the others in and a group decision was made to pursue the Cola Brothers, to whom most arrows seemed to point. If there were intriguing questions and some moral imperatives surrounding the Resistance, and the mystery of the one-legged woman and her involvement still to solve, the infamous gang of hoodlums still seemed the surest bet. After a few goodbyes and apologies to the family they had 'accidentally' terrorized, the quartet set off for a warehouse they'd been directed to, hoping to meet up with their peers.

Meanwhile, Ashon, Seviin, Xiuyang, Dory, and Lunara had put paid to the bandits who'd tried to rob them and, while two had escaped, the remainder were held at knifepoint or something like it. These were smalltime crooks and not the sort of people to risk their necks being defiant or threatening. They qucikly recognized that the people who they were currently tangled up with were rich and powerful and appeared to possibly have support from Ersand'Enise. Much as they might've resented those who dwelt behind the white walls, they craved their acceptance, wanted to join them, and feared them all at once. If the yasoi hoodlum currently before Ashon had thought to mock Lunara or rally support, he'd lost that notion at Seviin's casual display of power, Ashon's offer of generous monetary support, and Lunara's and Dory's apparent willingness to kill.

Meanwhile, the eeaiko who Xiuyang and the priestess had cornered shrugged at an offer Xiuyang had given to join her at his own risk. "Eye doon't see thet Eye heve mauch choice," he admitted, "Baut yoo aur sentenceeng yoorselves end praubebly mee too deth oor saumtheng lyke eet." he pursed his lips. "Eye waus paurt oof te Broosers. Wee cauntroolled thees paurt auf tauwn oonteel te Colas mooved een aun aus." He shook his head. "Yoo send mee elone too taulk too yoor peepel, Eye praubebly die aun te wey." His eyes flicked Seviin's way momentarily. Yet, there was no support to be offered or compromise to be had and, while he offered a few scraps of information, he was adamant that he would not turn on his masters without some reasonable guarantee of safety. When this was not forthcoming, he walked or, rather, stumbled away, desperate to find a binder for his inner ears.

At least his yasoi counterpart appeared to have fewer reservations. If he did not buy, for even a second, that the twenty-ish year old hyparishman was Jaxan's father, the bandit understood that he was powerful and had money, and that spoke louder than anything else. "Oh, you're either looking for the Colas or the resistance," he replied to a slightly threatening query. "The one is connected to the crusade against the Tarlonese land-grabbers, but they're rough and mean - almost criminals themselves. If you don't give them every spare bit of change you have, you're in bed with the land grabbers and an enemy of the yasoi." He shook his head. "Some of the local guys and I put together our own outfit to protect the people around here, but..." He scowled and clenched his fists. "Fucking Colas moved in on us and they're professional crooks if I ever seen any. They're the only alternative to the resistance and we've been forced out." He sighed. "That's why we robbed you kids." There was a note of apology in his voice. "Wasn't anything personal. Things are drying up and we're trying to fight the good fight here." He shook his head. "Even for the yaniis here. These assholes and their street wars are turning them against us yasoi, moila." It was not long before Ashon, as well, had learned about the warehouse and imbibed a warning not to go there unprepared, for the Cola Brothers were not to be trusted. With that, the group of five set off on the short remaining journey.

It was not long before the two parties were in contact through Abdel, using his tethered range, even if the others remained effectively apart. It was a frustrating matter of slow and imprecise communication funnelled through a single overworked mage, and as they both drew close to their destination from different angles, it soon became evident that, while figures matching the descriptions they'd expected were inside, the doors also appeared to be booby trapped. Communication began to break down. Decisions needed to be made quickly. The Cola Brothers - at least some of them - waited inside. A boy's life - and possibly their own - hung in the balance!



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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Emeth
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Tense Negotiations






One look around at the state of affairs and a glimpse at the captain's face left Raffaella questioning her involvement in this battle. Wow. He's already given up, she quickly surmised of him. Before she could step in to that mess, though, she was saddled with someone else. Pink one? Rude! At least my color held up though. Taking a look at the swabbie, he was obviously being told to take her to safety (and to go be useless somewhere else while he was at it,) but he didn't seem to be getting the hint. Yeah, some iced tea and macaroons would be great right now, she thought with some snark. But, something about his doe-eyed look squeezed just a tiny bit of sympathy from the girl. After all, she herself hadn't been born the master of her own destiny that she was now. Even she had gone through a time where she simply did what she was told and tried not to be pathetic while doing it.

If this ship goes down, it'll turn into a worst case scenario free-for-all. Problem is, I'm no binder and certainly no sailor bitch. And then there's this guy. Well, at a bare minimum... "Uh... Yeah. Do you have... can you use a map and compass? And can you use a lifeboat? I can't really do much from here."

"Y-yes, I can read a map, a little." But he shot a nervous look back toward Balik when a lifeboat was mentioned, she was looking in another direction. The boy seemed to have understood the implication and seemed to be weighing the odds whether Balik would kill him for abandoning the ship or if he would die by staying on it. "I can row, I can row well. He said resolutely with a nod, trying to build up some bravery to follow through.

Phew. She tried not to let the relief show too much on her face. "Then, let's get rowing... that-way-ish," she replied, pointing in the general direction her presumed allies had went. "And don't worry. No one will get mad at you for protecting a totally helpless little lady." She stuck her tongue out a bit before turning to look at the water, showing him a bit of her mischievous side. Why not? He was her accomplice now, and no one would believe him anyway.

"Bye Ren~! I gotta convince our friends to not be useless pacifists real quick!" she called out as she jumped into the nearest boat, unsure if her voice could really carry over the sailors' shouts. But first, I'm gonna cause some problems for those stinky pirates. She grinned impishly as the boat lowered. Sticking her hand into the waters, she spread a chemical pheromone around in it, one which her loyal pet associated with "mom."

...No response. A little curiosity from other nearby threshers, but little else. Irritated, she tried again, this time bringing what command magic she had to bear to the situation. Not that she knew it by that name; she just knew her gloves were useful for commanding animals.

If it were possible for a thresher to display the human experience of being unamused on its face, Kiskac did exactly that. "Geez. What's got you so worked up?" she pouted, oblivious to what exactly she was interrupting. "Now, which one was 'attack,' again?" she pondered, petting the creature contemplatively. She responded with a vigorous cheek pinch. "Ahwua, dasshit!" Raffie declared triumphantly, coaxing her pet to let go. "Go gettem," she cooed to the alpha thresher.

Kiskac sank beneath the water irritably. Was this girl stupid? Well, whatever. If it meant she'd be left alone for a little while, she could get some of the beta males to attack that barnacle-encrusted mass of wood the humans called a "boat." Not her, though. Queen that she was, she would get the others into a frenzy and have them do the work. This was the way.

Whether or not Ren heard the call, Balik certainly did. But by the time she had taken notice, the lifeboat was already decending to the waters.

The ship was not ill-equipped by any means, but it didn't mean that the lifeboats were in such plentiful supply that two kids could take off with one. The swabbie was a of little use and the pink one was supposed to be helping in this fight, not fleeing from it. A surge of anger rose within the second mate as she went to the side of the ship. But before she could yell TRAITOR! at the pair already rowing to the western shore, she was interrupted by the signs of movement beneath the waves and turmoil.

It was not the chaotic splashing and trashing of a aquatic orgy, but the coordinated swimming of threshers primed for attack and they were heading toward the pirates. A look of respect replace that of anger on Balik's face even if Raffie was too far away to notice the subtleties. The pink one had earned her lifeboat. Balik didn't waste time in returning to her command.

The swabbie rowed and rowed. Some parts fear and some parts appreciation guided what strength he gave to the oars. He had seen death on that boat and a short but periodic chuckling showed the relief he felt to escape its grasp.

He didn't quite have the courage to thank her. It would be in poor taste given the battle was still going and he abandoned his countrymen. But he was grateful nonetheless. Even if he wouldn't allow himself to speak it, it was present in his eyes.

"Good job. Keep it up," Raffaella said between breaths. It wasn't quite clear whether she was speaking to the young man rowing for his life, or to her pet beneath the waves. For her part, she was too busy drawing energy from errant cannonballs and pouring it into a combined effort between the both of them to reach the shore faster.

At some point, her hair had ceased its soft pink glow. Perhaps she'd done it to make their boat less of a noticeable target in the low light. Beneath the illusions, her hair was red, and... were those freckles? It was too dark to say for sure. By the time the two had reached shore, the lapse in her guise had closed up. Maybe she hadn't even noticed.

The warm luminescence coming off of her made her a target for every flying insect in the brush, however. She sputtered, annoyed, about to use her chemical magic to ward them off when she suddenly had another idea. She wasn't quite done with those pyrates just yet. Just as her pet had done with the threshers, she stirred the bugs into a frenzy. While their attention was directed downward toward the water, trying to prevent the threshers from punching a dozen holes in their hull, now was the time for an aerial strike. She didn't know much of anything about naval combat, but she knew that a ship with no sails was dead in the water, and being dead in the water was, like, super bad.

...It was no use. The Blue Adam was too far away now. Just looking at the distance she'd need to blow those chemicals through the air made her feel exhausted. Aw, heck. A feat like that would make a Tethered blush... She sighed and slumped against the edge of the boat, content to repel the insects for now. "I can't... do anymore. It's up to Ren now," she yawned.

The swabbie sat near her leaning against the boat. While Raffie was considering the use of insect warfare, he had been dragging it to shore so it wouldn't float away from them. He was without the kinetic magic to make this an easy endeavor and struggled to catch his breath.

With a focus toward the waters and the battle beyond, Raffie was less alert to the noises happening from the jungle. She wasn't completely caught off-guard, but certainly off balance. A group of around 10 warriors emerged with spears ready and surrounded half the lifeboat.

"I thought you Virangish were supposed to be protecting us from the pirates." Prince Tamatoa called out to the pair. "I would think you should go back and join the fight." It was far from a welcoming reception.

Raffie would turn to the swabbie, perhaps expecting him to have already started retreating, but he hadn't. The was fear in his eyes sure, but he held his ground. Had she inspired a sense of loyalty in the boy for getting him off the boat even if it was a matter of convenience?

Raffie turned back to the jungle and noticed that Mahal was some distance behind the warriors holding them captive.

As the 17-year-old turned toward the sound of the Prince's voice, it was not the face of a Virangish that greeted him, but the pale visage of a Miattan girl, shocked at the unfriendly reception. She retreated into the corner of the boat, hugging herself.

It was neither the first nor the hundredth time she made a show of being harmless, and it wouldn't be the last. "P-Please to repeat?" she stammered, thinking back to the earliest Virangish lessons she'd received. There were mistakes the non-natives always made, and she'd been mocked for them in Inipor. Now, they might just save her life. "Ersand'Enise," she invoked. "Friend, school. Raffaella. With me," she said, eyes wide as she introduced herself and patted the swabbie on the shoulder. Catching sight of Mahal, she raised her hand and waved. "Mahal, you made it!" she cried excitedly in Avincian. "We're over here!"

The Prince looked confused at the pale girl. No, she certainly didn't look Virangish and she seemed to speak the language poorly, even if Tamatoa didn't know it well himself.

When she called out to Mahal, he looked over his shoulder and seemed frustrated that the Palapar girl had followed the group. Still, the recognition meant that the pink one was likely telling the truth about being a student of Ersand'Enise. His suspicions about a Virangish allegiance weren't entirely cleared, but his eyes looked more sympathetic. They unreadied their weapons.

The Prince cast a discerning eye on the swabbie. "You're friend here doesn't look like much of a mage" he remarked in Avincian. "Where did you pick him up from?"

Mahal's eyes tracked the slowest of the warriors. Her feet navigated quickly over the fallen trees, crashing twigs and leaves underfoot. She paused long enough to let the distance widen so no one saw she was tailing them. For now, she hoped to stay hidden until a faint voice betrayed her presence. Mahal's eyes snapped up and caught a girl dressed in pink from head to toe: Raffie. Mahal inhaled sharply when she spotted the Prince glance her way before the warriors lowered their spears. Whatever happened, tensions seemed to have dissipated for now. Mahal immediately picked up the pace to cover the rest of the distance.

"Ah!" Raffie dropped her guard and blushed a little in embarrassment as the man spoke Avincian in return. "W-Well, he actually picked me up, sir," she replied, ignorant of the prince's rank but polite all the same. She considered calling the swabbie "Abdel" and hoping the others would get a clue and play along, or simply claiming him as a servant, but if what she'd heard about the rest of those kids was accurate, if they could do anything, it was get opposing sides to the same table, where they would expose her lies and ruin her plans. Here, some version of the truth was the best policy. "Please don't punish him for his courage," she pleaded. "I don't think... he can go back." She bit her lip.

Tamatoa was lost in thought for a moment. It was clear that he held animosity toward the Virangish, but did those misgivings extend to a couple of teens younger than himself. His determination was strained by the call to empathy.

"Whatever you can do to me, I'll face the same thing or worse if I go back now." The swabbie spoke up with the desperation in his voice hard to miss. "She wasn't part of the ship either. She's a student and got teleported in like the rest of them."

Tamatoa seemed to believe both Raffie and the swabbie. But something about the last statement made him raise an eyebrow. If this girl had teleported in with the rest of the students, then why didn't she make it to shore with the rest of them?

It was some misfortune that brought Mahal to the shore. Now the Virangish could suspect an alliance forming between themselves and the students. That is, if word were to get back to Royal Asper Company ships.

But Mahal also brought a benefit to the discussion. "Mahal, it seems another student has made it to our shores. What do you say of her allegiances to Virang?"

Mahal looked to the small lifeboat then shifted to the pair that used it. She caught Raffie's defense of the man and it helped confirm her earlier sightings. Likely the other shape was either Fiske or Ren, which she assumed was the latter. It would fit his arrogance nature. Still, Raffie's presence being found like this put Mahal on the spot. As if the gods knew this, she heard the Prince air a question at her.

"I don't know her well enough. We met during the trials where she tricked me with an inferno lemon. " She frowned, recalling how long it took to get the sticky goo out of her clothes. Her arms crossed over her chest as she continued.

"I can say, not all of us made it to shore. It was hard to tell who headed where in the dying light, but it wouldn't surprise me if two ended up on the Asper and the other two on the pirate ship." Her eyes darted to the side before she turned to face Raffie. "If she causes trouble, I will... deal with her."

"Gawds. Are you really still mad about the lemon incident? I already told you that—" Tommy made me do it, she remembered. There was no need to exchange those words, though. Raffie frowned. For all his faults, Tommy was a fun fellow, and now he was gone. "I can't float and can barely swim. I went towards the ship because it was closer than the shore. And y'know, 'cause I figured everyone would agree the pyrates are the bad guys," she mumbled.

The Hegelan couldn't float or swim, but he managed to make it to shore. Mahal thought, but didn't say it. Sparking a fight wasn't in her best interest right now. Her arms remained crossed in front of her chest as she took a breath, moving on from the topic. "Was anyone else on the ship with you?"

"She's right! I-I had to fetch her out of the water." The swabbie's stammering could be easily explained by the fearful situation. "It was the Asper flagship so plenty of people were on board. But we had to flee to safety. It was getting nasty out there."

Tamatoa seemed to take in the exchange, taking a backseat to the students arguing. "We could take these two in. But I couldn't guarantee we would let them leave again as they wish, or the most accomodating welcome..."

"What would you say we should do, Mahal? You know this one better than I. Is she worthy of trust?" He gestured toward Raffie.

Mahal's eyes turned toward Tamatoa. Her expression remained somber, giving nothing away. After a moment or two of silence, she let out a soft sigh of acceptance. "I wish I could confidently say yes, but..."

She quickly moved on. "The others will want to know about this. She is also a student of the school, but it might make things worse if you kept them both. Last thing I want is the Virang abusing Palapar more because of an incident like this. Even if it was small, you know they would use the excuse in the name of 'justice'." She was putting what little trust she earned on the line and she hoped Raffie realized it. "If we go back to camp, I'll take full responsibility over them. They will not leave my sight unless I say so."

"I dunno. I think whatshisname might have made it. Finze? He seems pretty strong," Raffie replied dismissively. Apparently, she needed to disassociate with Ren if she wanted to stay alive around these Virangish-hating savages. It'll be bad if they find out he was there later and didn't hear about it from me. But if I say something now, they won't think twice. She crossed her arms. "Fine by me if you want to play babysitter. Just don't expect a payout."

Mahal's head tilted slightly, not sure if she should believe the girl or not. She shot back at the babysitting remark. "Babysitting never does. If you cause too much trouble... I'll leave you outside with the wildlife." Whether it was a bluff or not, it would be hard to tell. Mahal's eyes scanned the horizon for more lifeboats coming in, but saw nothing. "We should head back."

Tamatoa paused in a conflict between the two options. "Sending two kids back into that..." He nodded toward the conflict which seemed to be growing more heated than when the pair left. "No, I don't wish to have that on my conscience. Follow us, we'll take you to camp." In unison, the warrior picked up their weapons and turned. Only a few lingered behind to make sure the pair actually followed.

As they made their way back through the jungle to camp with the two Virangish in tow, Tamatoa looked toward Mahal with a modest grin. "You offered to do the babysitting, right? I might just hold you to that."

As they reached the prince's campfire, Raffie could see the field of them all housing at least 10 people each. This was not a military force that either of them had expected to find, at least in regards to size. Some barely acknowledged them with passing curiosity while others understood were the pair had come from and appeared to hold them in ill regard.

The two were sat at the fire on the side furthest from the camps centre. Surpisingly, they had some privacy, they were under watch but not being guarded strictly. Raffie didn't get the sense that she was restricted to where she sat now, especially if she spotted another student.

"The more I think about it," the swabbie spoke quietly to Raffie in a moment of reflection, "the more I think you saved me life back there." He chuckled grimly, resting his arms on his raised knees. "I only joined the Asper Company to impress a girl back home, but now I'm just happy to be alive. I'd say I owe you for that."

"If you ever find yourself traveling the costs and stop by Malat, you have a place to stay and eat on the house. It's not much I must admit, but it's what I can give. Although, it depends on me making it out of this I suppose." He looked into the fire absent-mindedly with a smile. It was probably the first time Raffie had seen him looking optimistic.

"My name is Abdel by the way, Abdel al-Zaidi." He looked back to her. "And your secrets safe, your hair's a natural pink to me." He joked.

Tamatoa had returned to the fire and merriment of his friends. But Mahal could notice that he didn't fully return. Some lingering stares were still cast over the Virangish pair they had taken in.

"I don't like it Mahal. She is a student like the rest of you and will need to join you all in your mission. We can't keep her here, but I don't trust her either. Try to keep a close eye."

At Tomatoa's earlier comment back to camp, Mahal's eyes held a warm twinkle. She didn't reply until she settled in beside him, catching his concerns. She stared into the flickering fire for a few moments.

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't intend to. Right now, it was the best solution I had." She ensured that Raffie and her companion stayed within her line of sight. The others of her group needed to know about the girl, but it could wait until after the audience with the king. She picked up a small branch then tossed it into the fire. It blackened then fell into ashes, consumed by the heat. "Truthfully, I don't think she'll cause too much trouble. Most of her 'actions', according to her, were influenced by others. That means she either runs with the crowd or whatever serves her self interest. Right now, it serves her to cooperate."

Raffaella stared at the fire, a look of obvious frustration on her face. It was probably understandable, given all she had done so far was try to get the Asper to stop firing at her allies, and send a few angry threshers at the obvious bad guys, only to be treated like a criminal for merely associating with the Virangish. "It was nothing. I just pulled some heartstrings." Her mind wandered back again to that boy she'd liked when she was living on the streets. Then, a bigger boy had decided that he wanted to bully her for her red hair, and he'd run off and left her, and that was the end of that. How tired she was of essentially begging for her life every time she was cornered. Oh, what it would feel like when she could turn the tables. She shot Abdel a curious look. "I did the same to get you to follow me, you know? I can use a map and compass just fine. If I had one..." she mumbled under her breath.

"Well anyway. Your deckmates aren't dead yet, but they might be soon. I missed the meeting, but I think it's pretty obvious what happened here." She looked around at the general lack of urgency among her "comrades." "Our mission is to protect the wreck from being destroyed and pillaged. Apparently, my allies have all decided to abandon it in favor of freeing the locals from their 'oppressors' instead. Looks like they'll wait until the Virangish lose against the pirates before making their move. If only they were smart enough to realize that Tarlon and Nikan are doing the same. It's not just the Blue Adam; we're surrounded by pirates. Convincing the locals to spurn their protectors so soon is absurd." She chewed her thumbnail irritably. "But no one will listen to me. No. They'd rather follow the conniving merchant who ruined everything in ReTan... it was either her or Scarface, I just know it. Those two are always plotting something." Her knee bobbed up and down as her agitation increased, until she suddenly stopped. "Sorry. The politics might be going over your head. All you need to know is that girl in the wheelchair is a threat to us getting out of here alive. She can't see the forest for the money trees."

Too exhausted to get up and do much, but too agitated around the hostile locals' eyes to sleep, she felt truly stuck. She was hungry, too, and all of the food she brought was soggy. "I want to go home..." she sighed, scooching closer to the fire as she shivered.

Abdel did a double take, Raffie suggesting she simply pulled on his heartstrings and had him look back with scepticism. However, he took a moment, thought about it, and the look of contentment returned. Truthfully, what did it change? He still got off that ship regardless of her methods or intent. As someone without magic, he was used to being pushed around by those who could move mountains. For once it had worked out to benefit him instead. "I wish I had one too" he replied in a similar quietened tone. He didn't wish to retract his previous offer.

Abdel had focused on his own life and safety that he had zoned out the cannons firing in the distance. It was Raffie's mention that reminded him of the ship they had left. "I'm no proud countryman, but I saw what is happening on that ship and these people are doing nothing. They are letting it happen, they wanted to send us back there." Frustration was clear in his voice. "I do can't do much. They know where I stand in this. But they don't know about you, or at least they can't act on it. You are a student of Ersand'Enise, they'll let you see the others. I can't say they'll do the same for me but I'll do what I can."

Despite being in a similar condition, Abdel remained in place where Raffie got closer to the fire. "I do too..." Perhaps he was trying to present a divide between the two, trying to help Raffie shed the Virangish-allied label she had been given by the locals.

There was plenty of food cooking over the fire, just sitting there. But none so far had given indication, for or against, whether Raffie could partake of it.





Tku had set up in a small clearing in the tree line that he decorated with some loose stumps for everyone to sit on. A small fire sat at the center, barely giving enough light to see each other. Once people were seated, Tku spoke up, "I hope that everyone is still awake enough to come up with a plan?" Tku was already painting himself some Zenobucks.

Upon spotting the others gathering, Mahal stretched and then got to her feet. She walked over to where Raffie sat with her companion then gestured for her to follow. "Come on, it seems the others are done."

On her hip, her bag began to squirm. Mahal flipped open the top to check on Diyablos. Small, reddish tentacles began to slide out and climb upward. Shortly, her companion found his favorite perch: her shoulder. "You should've stayed home like Supok and Puno. Now I have to make sure you don't cause trouble." Mahal growled in Palaparese at him. Diyablos just stared then idly twisted his tentacle about a strand of her hair. What did she expect from a ground octopus?

Once she made it over to the fire, Mahal plopped onto a stump. "I'll manage. I assume the conversation with the royals went well?"

Marz had made his way over. After the partying had died down, most of the warriors had been wrangled up. The only able bodied chemist had their work cut out for them. Last Marz saw, they were trying their best to detox Kai, the other chemist. However he had been a hand full. Marz knew that well.

The moment Marz saw Tku, he waved wondering for a moment what was going on. Yet the moment he was asked the question of his alertness, Marz waved his hand in a dismissive manner and said, "Aye, this is nothin'".

Marz took a seat as he began to look among the others. Upon seeing Mahal there, he became curious what she found from some of the warriors he didn't interact with, "So, d'ya find anythin' yerself?"

Mahal looked at the red haired Hegelan. She reflected on her time spent with Tamatoa, but felt it yielded little that they didn't already know. She took a breath then nodded her head toward Raffie. "Likely nothing more than what we already know. Based on what the Prince told me, pirates arrived first followed by the Aspers. The tribe's pride is hurt because they can handle pirates, but the Virang is not letting them."

She reached into her pouch for another bone to chew on. Before she popped it in her mouth, Diyablos' little tentacle reached out. She let him pull it from her grasp and play with it, retrieving another for herself. "She, " Mahal gestured at Raffie, "came to shore on a life boat with a Virangish officer."

Tku looked between them, nothing of note was really said and that was fine, it was only the start after all. But he did sieze the lull to greet Raffie, "I'm happy that you made it to shore safely," Tku said with a genuine smile. "But I must ask you something while it can still be fresh in your mind. Can you tell us how the fight is going for them?"

Raffaella followed Mahal, weak and sulky as she may have been. Hungry as she was, she was no stranger to being around food she wasn't allowed to touch, and she didn't take the locals to be the generous types. "Oh. So they're being stupid?" she replied bluntly, surprising even herself. Perhaps it was owed to her mood. Appearing to ponder this new information for a moment, she nodded. From her experience, it certainly seemed like that useless Virangish captain would sooner go down with his ship than ask the locals for help. Then, to Tku, she offered her brightest, consolation-grade smile to thank him.

"It's a bit of a stalemate. Just between you and me, the captain doesn't seem the brightest. They'd probably have won already if they had a better leader, but I don't know anything about boats, so I came to get the rest of you," she explained. Pondering for a moment if it was worth keeping up her "dumb cutie" act, she decided to say her piece. Soon, the domain of politics would be unavoidable, and the public would need to see her as semi-competent, at least. "I think this one's real simple. The Nikanese and the Tarlonese have no right to be here and are basically pyrates, too. We should make a show of unity between the Virangish and the locals and get rid of the pyrate pyrates before they realize that and all band together. We can worry about how the pie is sliced and whether or not the Virangish deserve any once all the actual bad guys are gone—the ones who probably wouldn't hesitate to kill both us and the locals."

It didn't take Tku to realize the error of his ways, asking questions right away when their was a hungry girl, truly deplorable.

He sat with his paintbrush, thinking of what he knew of her. While tapping the side of his head, an image reemerged of her enjoying a cart of Baklava during the trials. That will be sure to fill her up, Tku simply thought, not knowing the depth of this girl's pit of a stomach. He calmly listened as he pulled out some red, yellows, greens as the main colors but put out a bit of black, white and blue. Layer by layer, depth was being added and a baklava was on its way.

But Tku could not just paint it and it be done just yet, even he was not that fast without the use of excessive magic. He had a conversation to participate in.

"I'm not sure about them being pirates though," Tku spoke to what he knew, "The Tarlonese had already made contact with the King Kaleo and Queen Kanani and have made favorable impression of them." He wasn't actively contesting her point of them being here for selfish gain per se but rather offering an insight to what he had learned so far.

"And as far joining hand with them," he sighed, "They have made it known they do not wish to work with the Virangish under these circumstances that are being suggested." The baklava was staring to form although now he wished he made pie, maybe he can make just one slice? Tku simply went back to his baklava, painting it was making him hungry.

Raffie averted her eyes, twirling her hair nervously, imagining that Tku must be painting her. Truly, why else would he have suddenly started painting for no reason? "O-Oh. Are the King and Queen aware of what Tarlon is up to lately?" she replied, her tone less snarky but still skeptical. "Hardly the best country to get involved with, and not in their best interest to snub Virang. I worry that they may not realize just how big a problem pyrates have become these days." Still, she continued to listen. "So, they want better terms? What are those?" She rested her chin on her wrist, posing a little, but not trying to make it look like she was posing.

Marz nodded to Mahal showing he had heard what she said as he now listened to the others speak as they were the ones who knew what was happening.

Mahal had finally noticed the rumbling of Raffie's stomach. The sound was familiar and distinct, especially for someone like her. While the pink haired girl played niceties to Tku, she gave a sigh then pulled up onto her feet. Shifting past the pair, she moved toward the nearest food pit. A large roasted animal was skewered between two large poles and mostly eaten. She sliced off a few large chunks onto a large leaf then walked back.

As she sat down, Mahal set it on Raffie's lap without warning. "Here, eat that. I can hear your stomach growling."

Maura waited patiently as she allowed the others to speak and share their thoughts. Outside superficial pleasantries, nothing constructive was spoken of to succeed in the mission. Not even Tku had relayed the discussion with the Royals productively. And this is why it comes down to me, she thought, brushing her hair to the side, as she moved to instill some structure to the discussion.

“So, here's the deal. The locals want to maintain cordial relations with the Virangish and potentially appease the Tarlonese to eliminate the other interlopers,” she began, gesturing to the pirates and the Nikanese. “In return, they demand that none of them approach that island. It holds special religious significance to the people here. However, we have been granted permission, as arbiters, to access the wreck. Our objective is to find enough valuable items to bribe the Virangish to leave it alone. While we are authorized to protect any archaeological artefacts, it's unlikely we'll be able to preserve everything. We've been instructed to steer clear of their religious objects, such as the war graves, as they fear zealot Darhannics may attempt to destroy them.” She glanced toward Raffie with a raised eyebrow. “Due to the losses being against Eeiako, they requested Kaureerah doesn’t go on the island for that reason too. We’ll speak to her about this.”

Gesturing to Tku, she continued, “Our talented artist here will assist in constructing art pieces to emphasize the island's importance and deter people from approaching with worthless materials. The locals will help commemorate the religious site.”

“Now that we have the broad strokes outlined, are there any questions before we delve into the specifics?”

Marz began to look around, he was listening to the others begin discussing. Yet before anything began to get moving, Marz saw the small woman who wheeled herself into the area then began to state countless things.

She began to speak with matter of fact talks, making statements of what will be the plan. There was no allowance of discussion. With countless facts being stated and plans already being made.

There could have been countless things he could have allowed. Someone being straight forward, fine. Someone wishing to put their foot down to on their own plan, Marz is fine with that, he even likes that in others. Yet there is one sin Marz cannot forgive.

"Who keeled over and made you queen?'"

Marz asked Maura, with no shortness of disgust. Even his face showed it as he continued, "We're 'ere to discuss. Naw' spew vomit at ea' other until one of us pass out and er forced to go along".

Then Marz leaned forward, pointing to Maura as he continued, "An' also. Why in de 'ell did I build yer bathtub if the plan doesn't need it?"

When Maura made a face at Raffie, she made a point of looking away from Maura with a huff. If she was going to be ignored, she wouldn't fight for a seat at the rabble's table.

Then, Mahal surprised her with goodies. They... really did look surprisingly good. "Um... r-really?" she replied, embarrassed. "...Thanks." Still, she held herself back, eating slowly, which was the next best thing when a food was impossible to eat in ladylike manner. She barely held back a snort as Marz chided Maura. "Uhh... bathtub..?" she inquired, very confused. Not that I'd disagree that she needs one. She smirked with a mouth happily full of wild game. Eating gamey meat around a fire with kids giving each other a hard time... it was almost nostalgic. Eh, shit. I need a bath too.

"You're welcome," Mahal struggled a bit with the words. She was not use to being thanked for something minor. When the woman in a wheel chair's voice rang out with a tone of authority and privilege, her eyes darted that direction. Mahal's eyes narrowed at the mention of religious ground.

That was never brought up by Tamatoa, but she also didn't ask. Still it felt like something important to mention. "I agree with Marz. "

Diyablos reminded distracted with his makeshift toy as she continued, "Based on what the zeno said, the Aspers are here to 'protect' the salvage rights. I don't think they will leave until the wreck has been confirmed to have nothing of value. It doesn't feel like our word will be enough."

“You can be the Queen, but as majestic as your beard is, we don’t think you would suit the dress,” Maura said with a smile, amused by the Hegelan's accusation. “But to address your point, this is why we participated in the negotiations: to establish the framework of the plan. While some aspects may not align with my preferences, certain points were insisted upon by the locals. So, we must work with what we have.”

Regarding the comment about the bathtub, Maura added, “When have we ever seen a plan go smoothly? People are already focused on objecting to the situation instead of discussing resolutions. Feel free to pitch any suggestions. As stated, the floor is open.” She waved her hand, indicating that he could speak.

Turning to Mahal, Maura appeared unsure of what exactly she agreed with, but listened attentively nonetheless. “Great point. So, since we cannot allow them near the wreck, how do you propose we resolve that, Mahal?” She smiled as she looked toward the girl, awaiting her suggested solution to the problem.

Mahal locked eyes with the woman in the wheelchair before her head shifted down in a thoughtful manner. Her mind considered the simplest answer. They needed someone to confirm it that the Virangish might consider loyal or trust. Her eyes shifted to the man, wherever he sat, that came with Raffie. He wasn't the best choice, but better than letting someone of higher authority stomp around on the island.

"A Virangish sailor brought Raffaella on shore. What if we clear out the artifacts and any interesting valuables then let him take a look? He can confirm what we said and gives more strength to it. We'll be escorting him the whole time to ensure he doesn't hurt any... sacred ground." She paused a bit on the label as she remained skeptical over it.

Maura observed Mahal, noting how the girl's mouth opened and closed as she thought, then spoke once she had formulated her response. “So, you propose that to solve the issue of not allowing them access, we should give them access?” Maura smiled sweetly as she extended her hand toward Raffie. “We already have our own Virangish Biro as a witness. Since they provided her with an escort, they should deem her trustworthy enough, don't you think?”

Mahal's jaw tightened. Maura's sweet tone sounded more like mockery than sincere causing her temper to flare. Her fists tightened before her form went slack. If her first year at the academy taught her anything, it was fighting her classmates got her nowhere. Best to just resign herself to pure muscle and not think.

"Just one, but you're right. Just.. tell me what I'm doing and I'll be out of your hair." Mahal didn't care if her tone was abrasive or not.

"Let's get our facts straight," Raffie interrupted between bites. "My adoptive mother is Virangish, and my citizenship is with Inipor. None of that matters anyway, since I don't look the part of either. They have no reason to trust me over any of you. I've done nothing for them." She gave Maura the side eye. "Accusing me of being with them is a great way to get the locals to tie me to a pike, though, if that was your aim."

Maura sighed as Raffie spoke, giving her a sympathetic smile. “They don’t know your backstory; it isn't conveniently located on a parchment for them to read. So, a sweet innocent girl from Virang, seen as a paragon of virtue, is a very good tale to spin to help resolve matters,” she explained. She knitted her hands together. “The locals want to work with Virang the right way, and they are scared of crossing the tiger. Will you help them? We promise they wouldn’t dare put your head on a pretty pike.”

Tku continued to draw a baklava, though now it wasn't as important. He has planned a slow conversation over the course of an hour. Tku wanted to avoid just laying things out all at once because it would stifle speech, in his opinion. But Maura saw something and seized it because she could.

He couldn't agree to her plan, not fully at least. It had lies and some off handed remarks that felt aimed at Raffie and Darhanics in general? And lastly, she has stated to everyone it was religious, a lie to her allies. And for some reason, Tku would need to make fake art to dissuade them and then have the people here to say it was. It was messy.

But luckily, the Baklava looked crispy, I mean thank the Gods for a drunk Hegelan. Tku made no attempt to hide the light chuckle he had, it was objectively funny. It didn't slow Maura though, instead it at least opened for people to discuss. But what am I going to say.

He was putting together his thoughts since it seems anything less that a rebuttal followed but an immediate counterproposal was asking for sass. She was already angering Marz and Mahal. Raffie could get offended and Kaureeerah could also prove to be a troubling point.

Tku had finished up his Baklava! "Raffie," Tku called her attention over despite the very heavy accusation. With a flip of the canvas, a warm tray of Baklava formed. "A little slow compared to Mahal but hopefully the wait was worth it, share it if you want," he handed it over, obviously eyeing a corner bit himself.

"Alright," he put his hands together and pointed at Maura, "Let's get some things straightened. Having a full plan is fine, even preferable, but you are creating stess here. 3 of the people we came with are not even with us and you have managed to anger 3 of the 5 people here. Ren is dangerous, Maura. Raffie has stated that the Captain of the Viragish isn't the brightest and like she said, they have no reason to believe her."

He sighed, "Let me lay out what I have heard and know. The people here do not wish to fight and die with the Virangish to give them things. They would be willing to do so if they do not step on the island. The Island is their focus, not the treasures on it. They are on good terms with the Tarlonese, not so much the Nikanese but they are not pirates and have met up with them at some point." He looked around to make sure people are on that point.

"Raffie says the virangish captain isn't the brightest and that they wouldn't just trust her. I believe her," He looked over at Raffie and nodded at her.

"The Bathtub is... I'm not sure, to be honest, but I trust Maura brought it because we could use it" He looked back at Maura and Marz.

"Can we work together from this point," he looked at Mahal, and his old teammate.

Raffie turned away from Maura in her seat. There was simply no way she was going to let that smarmy woman use her as a tool, especially if it involved doing something with the Virangish. It was too big of a risk from her experience so far, and whose word did she have that they wouldn't at least imprison her for being associated with Virang? Maura's? What was Maura's word worth?! "Oh, they won't put my head on a pike? That's nice. Tell that to the big guy who wanted to throw me to the threshers just for coming from that general direction. Sorry, not sorry, but your plan to use me against the people you decided all on your own are the bad guys is a no-go."

The pouting continued, until suddenly there was a plate of baklava. Momentarily flabbergasted, she didn't miss her chance to grab a handful and add it to her growing collection of sustenance. Then, she took another piece and all but shoved it into Mahal's face-hole. "Try this, it's good!" she huffed, trying to act as though the ongoing argument were already over and she were trying to restore some semblance of peace—demonstrate some token effort at maturity—but, her anger seeped through her words, and she made no effort to continue engaging with the debate.

As if summoned, Kaureerah soon found herself headed back from her conversation with Leilani. It did not take a genius to see that things were not going smoothly. "Eye hoope Eye deedn't meess too mauch!" she called out, hurrying along the beach, "baut eet looks lyke Eye deed!"

She skidded to a stop in the growing space around Maura. "Enyaune cere too feel mee een?" she inquired, glancing about.

Maura smiled warmly as Kaureerah turned up. “There you are, you were gone for far too long.” She held her arms out toward her, suggesting they embrace each other as friends.

Kaureerah glanced about, noticing the less-than favourable expressions towards Maura. Keko, whaut heve yoo daune? she groaned inwardly, but nobody else had said anything yet and there was nothing that would stop her from embracing her friend anyhow. They hugged tightly and exchanged a handful of whispered words in reassuring voices. Then, pulling back a little bit, Kaureerah glanced momentarily at Tku as well and smiled. "Doo yoo news fraum te keeng end queen?"

"It's good to have you, help yourself to Baklava if miss Raffie allows," Tku waved over to Raffie, currently forcing it down Mahal's gullet.

Tku straightened up, "We have," he looked at Maura, "And some discussions have happened but they have turned out rather sour so far but are hopefully going to try and start again?" Tku didn't look anywhere in specific this time but Kaureerah was smart.

Tku then described what he had said earlier about what they knew, this time without as much stressed tone.

"Yes! Please try it," she piped up with a smile, grateful to Tku for sweeping away the awkwardness for her to make the offer.

Mahal knew there would be no discussing, just plain and simple orders. What was the point? They would only get chided and she didn't feel like wasting her time or energy. Shaking her head, she just snapped. "Tku... there's no point in a discussion if- "

Before she finished her sentence, Raffie was shoving something in her face. Mahal flinched and jerked about, noting the strange multi-layer pastry being presented. A light, honeyed scent with a hint of nuts filled her nostrils. She gave it a suspicious look. Before the pink haired girl could react, Mahal pulled forward. Her teeth sank into the corner and took a large chomp from the piece. She chewed then begrudgingly took the rest of the offering.

Mahal had been stuffed full of Baklava, as had Maura, and Kaureerah could hardly refuse. "Promise it isn't poisooned, yoo beeg bed Veerengeesh?" she teased with a wink, but she took some, sat down, and had a bite. "Ooh, thees ees good," she enthused, savouring the taste and rocking back and forth on the spot.

In truth, Kaureerah had heard things that had shaken her almost as soon as she'd arrived, and she could sense how broken this discussion was, but drawing further attention to it would likely only make it worse. "Let's eet, end then let's heer whaut peeple heve too sey." She picked up a stick from the sand. "Een my caultoore, these theengs aur secred," she began, still chewing. "Naut steecks, baut the eyedeea thet te persaun hooldeng eet ees te oonly speeker. Eet helps when peeple aur argooeng." She held it up. "Enywaun waunt too goo foorst?"

Tku asked for the stick, he was more than game for a talking stick. "So I have the stick," he raised it into the air to show that he indeed had the stick. It was but a normal stick for now.

"I will be frank with my wishes," Tku prefaced, "From what Raffie has said and my own experiences with Ren, I believe simply trying to convince the Virangish not to explore the Island won't work. My suggestion is to use the Tarlonese to pressure the Virangish victors to have to take what they can, a.k.a. what we give them, and head off before things get rough and potentially get into a 2nd fight. I know it's rough but that would be my preferred actions." He held out the stick for someone else to take.

"Eet's bed menners too jaust teke eet beck," Kaureerah admitted, "Baut thet's geeven mee e beet auf en eyedea." She paced. "Eye waus theenkeng wee heve ebaut fyve moore haurs auf daurk remeyning," she began, looking towards those more scientifically inclined for confirmation. "Ryght?"

Tku tossed the stick to Kaureerah and then quickly had it tossed back, "Um, Let's see, Palapar is..." he pulled a map of the world from his bag. Realizing he is, in fact, not good with time. Obejan's had their own way of measuring time. "There is an 'amount' of time, yes," Tku answered, completely unsure of how many hours it has been.

"Don't you have a banana that can expedite almost any process?" Maura prodded helpfully, and Tku blinked. She was... not wrong.

"Oh! I have a guy," Tku took out his banana and held it up to his ear like a horn, "Banana Phone, Sigmund Bastañer, please." There was a pause like he was on hold and Tku seemed to be tapping his foot to a beat.

"Ah Sigmund! It's me Tku!"
. . .
"Know this is me, you picked me up in Nikan when I was about to become a courtesan,"
. . .
"Yes, Kitakuni, I just thought they were testing my art skills not that other stuff,"
. . .
"Told you it was me. How I am contacting you doesn't matter, I have a question that only you can answer."
. . .
"We're in Moatu Suva, yes, that one, and we are wondering how much time we have before sunrise or I guess effective darkness hours,"
. . .
"4 hours and 45 minutes? Yep, thank you. Yes, I will come by to visit, I'll even do my best to bring you a souvenir. Bye now my friend," Tku hanged up the phone.

"4 hours and 45 minutes, your estimate was good Kaureerah!" He nodded at her like he didn't just call a Zeno. What even was calling?

Kaureerah clapped, and almost bobbled it when he tossed the talking stick back. "Soo," she continued mischievously, hardly missing a beat, "whaut eef wee get sneeky?" She shook her head. "Maura hes thet saub Maurz soo generoosly poot toogether. Wee heve enaugh tyme." She began ticking items off on her fingers. "We heve the steltheeest veeheecle eemegenauble." She counted another, "End the pyretes end Veerengeesh aur es deestrected es they'll ever get!" She glanced at her friend, hoping for approval. "Plenty auf tyme foor aull thet tresoore too moove -" She shot Maura a very brief but meaningful look. "- weeth saum auf te pryme peeces aun te saub. Then, te Veerengeesh cen see te wreck naune te wyser, fynd whaut screps wee leeve them, end leeve graumbleng ebaut hauw eet wausn't woorth eet baut weeth no ceyse egenst aus."

She paused and shrugged. "There aur praubebly hooles een et," she admitted, "baut thet's where aull yoo smaurt peeple caume een."

Raffie appeared to have fallen asleep in her seat, but when the opportunity arose, she suddenly perked up. "Ooh, ooh!" she exclaimed, reaching for the stick with excited, wiggly fingers. There was other movement around Raffie, too, but it was surely a trick of the firelight.

"Nobody knows how many of us students came through the portal, probably. Who would have had the luxury to stop and do a headcount?" she suggested. "One group joins the battle and acts like siding with Virang was always the plan. Another 'investigates' the locals and finds that they took nothing and did nothing wrong. The last group was never here." She smiled sweetly. "We take anything that could be used as a weapon of war, in particular. If we get caught, we were here to prevent the scales of power from tipping in favor of war breaking out. That's our 'official' mission." She crossed her arms proudly.
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A Prison Without Bars

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.

Xiuyang watched Seviin's interrogation of the eeaiko with a blend of shock and genuine interest, which the masque just managed to cover up as, perhaps, some form of imposing, predatory look one might give to a weakling. Impressive. If it were me, I would probably cry. She should get straight to the point like this more often. With him stabilized, she turned her attention to the agitated onlookers. "Oh, please," she drawled. "You would have walked over their well-dressed corpses while going about your business—but don't worry, the criminal who would just as easily prey on you will live," she assured them. "Why then are you angry? Because there are no dead to rob here? This circus is over. Begone," she spat at the hypocrites.

After digging up the money box and re-securing it to her medicine box, she walked over to their captive audience and abruptly dropped into a squat, bringing her eye level to his. Her neck cracked as she perched her chin on her free hand. A moment had passed since Ashon had used her as some form of threat, leaving the eeaiko wondering what the masked woman might do. "Yeah. I know how it is, to be desperate for work, and no one wants you. Like you've been denied the right to exist," she said, half-truthfully. Usually, she was on the other side of that equation. "Makes you hate people who have it all. Makes you forget that they're even people," she said coolly. "I think someone like that is targeting the Doridax family. They've lost more than just a good friend recently. Know anything about it? If it's work that interests you, I have connections that will pay more reliably than the odd coin purse."

The eeaiko looked at her with wary, evaluative eyes, but he had learned to outright fear Seviin. It was as if one could hear the wheels turning inside of his head. Then, he laughed bitterly. "Yoo theenk Eye cen joost taulk end nautheng weell heppen too mee?" He arched an eyebrow. "Aur yoo soore yoo knauw es mauch ebaut te woorld es yoo theenk?"

Xiuyang cocked her head, considering his reply. "I think I know quite a bit—but suppose I know nothing at all. You know how unfair the world is. It's not really 'what' you know, but 'who' you know, y'know? Unless an actual Zeno is involved with the alley cat shits who think they run 'Belleville,' I doubt they have a chance against me and mine. Even so, if my people don't want to be found... they won't. So why not be one of them? Better than clinging to this filthy town. It'll be a while yet before they get their shit together, even with us helping them along."

The masked girl's demeanor was friendly, but down-to-earth and not in a saccharine way. She didn't moralize any further about 'honest work' or claim that she'd clean up Belleville like some kind of hero. At best, she tried to discreetly project the kind of character who did good through dishonest means—someone who could be more benevolent than the street gangs, but no less savvy and with powerful connections of her own. She also implied that with her help, he could leave Belleville entirely, if that suited him.

He pursed his lips - funny eeaiko lips. "End yoo joost auffer mee thees aut oof te goodness auf yoor haurt?" He regarded her skeptically, but perhaps there was a hint of hope there - unless it was Xiuyang's wishful thinking. "Whaut ees te cetch? There ees aulweys e cetch."

Seviin scowled, unimpressed, and addressed her partner before any more was said. "Already looking for a way out." She shook her head. "You're wasting your breath with this sort." She narrowed her eyes. "He'd just as soon stick a knife in your kidneys."

"Ovviamente cerca una via d'uscita. La sua vita è una prigione senza sbarre," Xiuyang mumbled to herself in irritation as Seviin interrupted. Shaking it off, she continued. "Nah. I'm not some goody-goody. You tell us everything you know, and do exactly what I tell you—which will work out well for you, since the first thing I want you to do is get the fuck out of here and talk to one of my contacts. You'll be safe with him anyway." She stood up and leaned on her staff again. "The catch is that if you stick a knife in my kidney, she'll replace it with one of yours," she japed, pointing back with her thumb at Seviin. "It seems I have more patience than a clergywoman, though, which should tell you something." Behind the mask, a cheeky grin could be felt, if not entirely seen.

These were smalltime crooks and not the sort of people to risk their necks being defiant or threatening. The people who they were currently tangled up with were rich and powerful and appeared to possibly have support from Ersand'Enise. Much as they might resent those who dwelled behind the white walls, they craved their acceptance, wanted to join them, and feared them all at once. If the yasoi hoodlum currently before Ashon had thought to mock Lunara or rally support, he'd lost that notion at Seviin's casual display of power, Ashon's offer of generous monetary support, and Lunara's and Dory's apparent willingness to kill.

Meanwhile, the eeaiko who Xiuyang and the priestess had cornered shrugged. "Eye doon't see thet Eye heve mauch choice," he admitted, "Baut yoo aur sentenceeng yoorselves end praubebly mee too deth oor saumtheng lyke eet." he pursed his lips. "Eye waus paurt oof te Broosers. Wee cauntroolled thees paurt auf tauwn oonteel te Colas mooved een aun aus." He shook his head. "Yoo send mee elone too taulk too yoor peepel, Eye praubebly die aun te wey." His eyes flicked Seviin's way momentarily.

"There's always a choice," the Rettanese replied sternly. "To be beholden to the people who taught you to be this helpless, or to take your life back from them. It's yours. I won't take it from you. I for one think you can make it if you swim." She backed off, giving the eeaiko some space. If he was going to chicken out and be useless, she'd rather he run away front of her where she could see it. "I know the water is filthy," she allowed. "Believe me, I won't soon forget it."

The eeaiko man, still unnamed, shook his head. "Eef Eye jaump, Eye need prootectioon, naut kynd woords." He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the scene. He scrunched his face up bitterly. "Baut Eye'll go. Where end to whoo?" Seviin narrowed her eyes, but he made to stand.

"A boy's life is on the line. I don't have the time to gather my grunts for you," she replied. "Tell me everything you know, and I'll tell you who and where. Or you can crawl back to your old masters, though I doubt they'll take you back after talking to me, if they're as omniscient as you seem to think," she said coolly.

"Good lauck too heem," the eeaiko replied coldly and that was it. If they wanted him to betray the powers that governed his life here for nothing more than vague assurances that he would be able to make it and they would help him at some point in the future, they clearly either knew nothing about how this place worked or the assurances were false, likely both.

It had become clear that he would not talk and be a stoolie for free. Seviin and Xiuyang would either have to beat the answers out of him if he had any, or let him go and that was that.

Xiuyang would waste no time personally dirtying her hands with such a task, however. She made a dismissive hand gesture, as though she were discarding trash. She would not prevent him walking away from the best offer he'd get.

With that, a potential lead tried to walk away, but he found that he couldn't. Seviin had destroyed his sense of balance. He stumbled and fell, eyes wide. The priestess smiled smugly. "Damy demands balance," she remarked coolly. "You have done much harm and now do nothing to provide restitution when given the opportunity, so I have seen to its rectification."

"Eye geve my caundeetioons!" He shouted back. "Eye weel naut dye foor yoo!" He staggered a few more steps. "Fauck -"

There was a small kinetic shove. "Then you will crawl through this town that is so dangerous," Seviin declared, "all of the way to a skilled binder, if you can make it there."

With that, she turned and walked away towards the others, inclining her head in the masked woman's direction as if to say, 'coming?'

The woman followed, a satisfied look in her eyes. It didn't need to be said that letting him get away could have been a problem, and the yasoi's solution suited her just fine.





The Colas

It was right then that the answer seemed to present itself, at least from the other end of things. Whatever other leads they'd gotten, the one pointing to the Cola Brothers had seemed the strongest and they were on their way. Drawing close, Abdel had reached out with his tethered range and picked up what he was pretty sure were the rest of the group. They'd just finished beating up some hoods and were not far from the warehouse that they'd been told to bring the money to.

Xiuyang felt a pinch behind her ears that could only have been the group's lone tethered: <Close. 400. There soon. Learn? Danger?>

The reply came in the form of subtle binding magic. Xiuyang tattooed it temporarily across her shoulders where only Abdel could see. Learned much. Didn't catch it, yasoi. Colas, big threat. We go in with money, you ambush?

<Big Enemy. Big Enemy. Big Enemy. Careful. Distance. Will ambush.>

"So, he said a lot of words, but did we learn anything?" Xiuyang asked Ashon as she approached him. Then, suddenly, she erected a sonic bubble. "Hm. Abdel is advising that we should keep our distance. There's a 'big enemy' at the warehouse, whatever that might mean." Meanwhile, she replied to Abdel as she dropped the bubble. Big enemy, inside warehouse? What else?

<Doors danger. Mystery. Three bads. One BIG. Two not BIG. One man down.>

Seviin had noticed Ashon and Xiuyang speak beneath a sonic bubble. "Something has changed?" she inquired, trying not to look hurried as she caught up.

Xiuyang snorted at "not BIG." She wasn't sure why she found it funny. Nerves, maybe? Then came her reply. Jaxan? she asked simply.

< Not Know. >

She put up the bubble again, this time making sure to include Seviin. "Only that our enemies have two tricks up their sleeves. A 'big enemy' inside the warehouse, and a mystery door trap. That's a bit of a pissoff. I wanted at least the appearance of a negotiation, but it seems we're in for a fight as soon as we're there."

Ashon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The Yasoi mentioned that Jaxan is part of the resistance," he recounted, "and that they, along with the Colas, have a conflict as big as a Snowsweeper-sized beef."

They spoke as they moved and, before long, were within sight of what they assumed was their destination: A long, low warehouse poked out from the gap between buildings down a winding a street. There were few houses around it. This area appeared to be mainly industrial.

Jaxan, resistance. Enemy of Colas, Xiuyang quickly relayed to Abdel. Negotiations likely futile.

"Hm." The Rettanese mercenary cocked her head as she observed the unremarkable warehouse. "Think I should give the door a firm knock or two?" She asked the others. There was no response; perhaps there was no need? They were all surely eager to see these criminals fed a taste of their own medicine.

Xiuyang focused on the door, to see what the beanie could show her of what lied beyond it. "That's a funny little coincidence," she remarked jovially, appearing to approach the door. "Stay here," she said, insisting her allies keep a safe distance. Only, her voice seemed to be coming from behind them...

As the false image of the masked woman approached the door, money in hand, an invisible Xiuyang prepared to pelt the door with a kinetic spell. "Boom," she whispered as she drew. If anyone was to stop her, now was the moment.

< Chimney. Maybe. Possible. Safe not sure. Door. Trap. >

Xiuyang, shaken from her giddiness, takes a second to reconsider. Far away from door. Further than enemies. Blow it? she proposes to Abdel. Spring trap, know their numbers. In position to flee if needed.

< Knock. Distance. Or distraction. Draw out. Confirm Yasoi boy. >

Acknowledged, she replied. And with that, she fired her kinetic spell right at the door, timed with the movements of the illusion.

The doors blew in with stunning force, exploding into splinters. The urns shattered and... there was nothing to see but a gust barreling in and then blowing violently back out. The fox-masked woman stood there amid the debris, her cloak flapping in the wind. She stalked forward confidently and it was perfect work, almost enough to make the true Xiuyang proud.

Two hoodlums - a yasoi man with red hair and a woman with short dark hair - coughed and reeled, but the great hulking figure who stood behind them was unbowed. There was a Gargantuan surge of energy, but not much happened aside from a few weak gusts of wind in the area of the apparent Xiuyang. Then, a couple more in the area behind her.

"Right in through the front door, not even an attempt to negotiate," she chided, collecting herself. "I had hoped to be working with professionals."

"Fantas, they're not here to negotiate. They probably don't even have the money." She nodded. "Kill the kid and let's split."

"Oh, you have the boy?" the masked woman pleasantly but quickly replied as she approached the door, for real this time. "Don't worry, we have your money. You can even have it, if you behave yourselves. I'll even overlook the pathetic attempt at murder before the negotiations even began." The skull masque's unmoving smile turned eerie. "In case you hadn't noticed, we are the professionals here. Not you. No more games, hm?"

Dorothea summoned forth her rifle once more and slowly entered. "Knock. . . Knock." She knocked on the wall with her free hand before she readied her weapon. The anticipation of combat, it excited her. . . but little did she know that she fell upon the ground, knocked out.

As she spoke with such confidence, however, the people behind her began to waver and collapse. Miray dragged a half-conscious Lunara away. Ashon staggered and fell to his knees. Dory fainted and Ashon managed a few more steps before collapsing on top of her. The hulking goon grinned malevolently. "Look behind you, little professional," he mocked.

"Easier than usual, to be honest," the woman remarked, striding forward. "But thank you for telling us about the money. Hand it over now and we let you live." Meanwhile, the red-haired yasoi had flung the semi-conscious youth up to near the ceiling, ready to let him drop. It would've been a good thirty to forty foot fall and he was likely to land head first.

"Generally, unwise to turn your back to an enemy," she fired back without missing a beat, giving the man some cheeky finger-guns. Though she could hear the bodies falling behind her, she continued to feign impressive confidence with her masque. "Say, does something stink or is it just me?" she japed, letting out the tiniest, most pathetic mocking cough she could.

"Anyways, unless you're unafraid of the full wrath of Ersand'Enise falling upon this little shack of yours, I wouldn't threaten us if I were you. But hey, I'm easy enough to please. Free the boy of his ropes, hand him over, and it's yours, nice and easy. I'll even make a special exception and look the other way while you make your escape. Sound good?"

Lunara started to walk with the others, suddenly out of no where Miray started to act odd. Miray started to aggressively pull on Lunara's skirt, to get her to more. "Miray, What are you..." Lunara started to feel sluggish. "Crap, good girl Miray, thank you." Lunara then fell to her knees and collapsed, but Miray was able to move her far enough away.

Seviin, however, found herself utterly unaffected by the poison. She knew the scent. It came from Sparknettles, which grew close to her home, and she simply held her breath with the help of the Gift. With a mighty kinetic blast, she cleared much of the poison and took stock. Xiuyang was unaffected. Either she'd figured it out on time as well or she had some sort of resistance. Lunara had collapsed, but her goma cat had pulled her free of danger. Not so for Ashon and Dory, and the priestess rushed into action, setting up a bubble of wind around them to counter the gases.

Running to their side and kneeling, she reached down and murmured an apology before slapping Ashon across the cheek. "I am sorry, Moila. You need to wake up." She tried to clear the bad air from his lungs and his blood and, in a moment, he was sputtering, blinking, and rubbing at his cheek. Seviin turned next to Dory, and the Feskan was unmoving. This one proved a good deal harder to revive, and Seviin had to settle for dragging her away with kinetic magic and setting her near the still-groggy Lunara.

The big man began gathering energy again for something else huge and it was clear that he was a real danger. Just as he seemed about to unleash it, however, the second yasoi man - the lanky ginger - froze and contorted. For a second, the youth in his kinetic grasp bobbled and began to fall. Then, he stabilized. Perhaps the others didn't know what had caused it or what it was, but it was Abdel and he had bloodwarped his enemy.

"Money first," the woman demanded, "Or at least let me see it. I've no reason to trust you."

It was right about then that her minion lost control over the mark.

The big man who had gathered all his energy did not unleash it on his original intended target: that pesky healer. Instead, the full brunt of it came down upon Abdel in a massive corrosive attack. The very air around him turned into an acid mist and whirled with tornado-force winds, all this backed up by a RAS level approaching nine.

An immense pillar of lightning blasted clean through the building's roof and struck the hulking figure in the middle. He spasmed and jerked, roaring in annoyance. "Oh ho hooo! Someone big wants to play!" he exclaimed, but Abdel remained in control of the man who remained in control of the hostage as the two giants tussled.

Ashon, after almost hacking up a lung, thanked Seviin for the assist and gave her a raised hand signal to indicate he was now okay, then turned to the attacker. "That was some terrible body odour, Moila. You're surrounded by water now, no excuse not to bathe."

"We've got that in common," she replied casually. Opening up the decorated box attached to her medicine box, she dug a gloved hand into the rice and pulled out a handful of the magus, rolling her eyes as the big man walked away. "Good grief, can we not agree to control our animals? Counting money is so much more fun than smashing heads."

"How do I know it isn't all rice?" she demanded. "You show it all and we have a deal. We trade on five. You don't, we change things up a bit."

"So demanding~ There's a couple hundred of these things, you know?" she replied in a conversational tone as she dug more and more out of the rice. "I was going to stay until you counted it all, but if you don't want to, then sure. Count to five when you're satisfied."

The red-haired yasoi straightened and, seemingly from nowhere, pulled out a pair of odd but wicked looking blades. "For the record, he's a sweet boy and I didn't enjoy any of it." She sighed and drew... and drew... and drew: a classic yasoi intimidation tactic.

Then, however, it was a two-on-one. The woman glanced between her two adversaries, taking stock of matters, and... while Oksana had been up there long enough to sense her massive energy draw, Lunara had not. A huge fiery blast came straight for the Palaparese, catching her cold.

Meanwhile, Niallus would've done anything to be cold, though in a different way. Arduously, pulling in and expelling massive amounts of thermal energy, he carved through the thick ghulthite. He could feel his hair burn away and his skin start to shrivel and peel. At first the pain was incredible, and then it began to fade as nerves died. Yet... bit by bit, he completed his circle and then it wobbled. With a blast of kinetic force, it came flying free. It hurtled across the warehouse and slammed into the opposite wall with such force that it punched a hole clean through. A burned, raging figure emerged, smoke and steam rolling off of his grotesque figure. The outside world beckoned.

"Very well," the manly yasoi woman was replying in another part of the warehouse She ignored Ashon at first before being unable to resist a jibe. "You shall have your... 'son' returned to you safely in five."

Meanwhile, Abdel, maintaining his concentration and slowly retreating out of range, soon found himself more or less out of the fight. It was a lot to maintain his lock on the ginger yasoi, however, and it taxed him to his very limit. Jerking his puppet on invisible chains, he began forcing the man to lower his hostage. Qadira and Dayanara stood guard to either side of him but, then...

Dayanara let out a loud gurgling growl and turned her massive head. Qadira hissed and lowered herself into a ready position. So occupied was Abdel that he could not take the focus necessary to sense what was coming until it was nearly there. Dayanara sprung into action, leaping at the coldfire wyvern while Qadira barreled for the dreadmaw halassa.

"Four..."

Dorothea began to stir, the dread power of Levidan the Accursed dragging her from the depths of unconsciousness and demanding that she take action, that she crush these subhuman nothings that had dared lay her low.

It was at this moment, as the youth was being gently lowered from close to the ceiling, as Johann blasted the huge yasoi through a wall and was, in turn, himself, driven into the ground, that the ground opened up into a thousand needles and a gravitational slam to drive Abdel towards his death.

"Three..."

Seviin rose and gathered her power, filling Ashon and Dory with it. These criminals were not to be trusted. They had wronged Mother Oirase and now they were Lord Exiran's playthings if there was any justice in the world.

It was then that Oksana felt another presence off to the far side of the roof. A tall, elegant man stood there with a thin black rapier in his hand. He flourished it and began walking toward her.

"Two..."

Xiuyang closed the box and latched it, with all of the coins inside. While she stood ready to toss it, she didn't neglect to pay attention to her surroundings. She also reached out to sense underground, for any convenient escape routes. If the trade actually went through, she would probably still need to escape and quickly deliver Jaxan to his family. Then, there was also the other plan she needed to enact, preferably before these criminals could escape. It all hinged on this moment, with her eyes locked on the boy, held helpless in the air. Various scenarios played out in her mind: one in where the boy was thrown straight at her, another where he was sent straight into the ground and turned into paste. His life hung on her ability to see, if only for a short distance, into the future, and to use her budding Temporal ability to guide it to an outcome where a son could be reunited with his father. All the while, as Xiuyang's sweat turned cold, she betrayed not a single hint of emotion on her face.

Dorothea leaned on her rifle for a second to compose herself. A face that was on the verge of turning into a snarl. She tried to be friendly, to let the others take the lead and just act as the muscle. The way she fell to the ground was unbefitting for someone of her stature and ability, someone had a debt to pay. She felt her own gift heightened further than even her communing had granted her and it would be put to good use.

A knife ear that could barely be considered a woman was counting down about something? . . Not that it mattered. The Feskan aimed it towards the knife ear that was ever so smug about it. One breath in. One firm grip. One kinetic enhancement and a little extra gift was all it shall take. As the trigger was pulled the bullet was barely visible as it exited the barrel. The only thing that became visible was small disruptive bits of the air that rippled. That dirty baummensch might not even be affected with how little they have into going around within that head.

As the hit was confirmed Dory loosened up once more. "Sleep tight, filthy messerohr"

Dory's purpose was clear and her aim was true. In, she breathed, and out, and there a bullet flew.
And yet, beyond her bubble, where a roiling calm prevailed, on past the perfect focus through which her bullet sailed...

Things were happening.

Unbeknownst to Dory, some three hundred yards away, Abdel, for his survival, had been forced to free his prey.
A momentary lapse seized that ginger-haired yasoi. He tremored and wobbled and then released the boy...

Who fell from the sky.

It happened so fast the Gods must've desired it. He fell into the path of the bullet: she'd fired it.
Dory had sworn to leave one of them dead. She'd aimed her gun straight for the lesbian's head.

But the shot struck the boy.

For a moment, nobody believed it. For a moment, the shot had surely struck its intended target. Reshta did not play such cruel jokes upon any but those who had earned her personal ire.

"One."

Ashon, Seviin, and Xiuyang were caught off-guard by the shot, for Dory had acted solo. The woman who'd been counting froze, just about to take a step forward. No sooner had the ginger-haired yasoi regained himself than he crumpled.

"Moila!" he screamed. "Dii! Oh Exi, dii!" His hands snapped the sides of his head, ripping at his hair. His sister's eyes widened like dinner plates and she stood there for a moment, frozen.

Then, there came a cold rage.

Niallus, having emerged from his deathtrap panting and snarling and still thinking that he had hair, did a whole lot of nothing but look angry, but he soon had cause to do more. He'd missed the exact details of what had happen, but all watched the boy hit the floor, his impact lessened by the red-haired man's intervention, but would it be any good? Had the bullet intended for his apparent captor done him in?

Niallus didn't get the chance to ruminate on it. Two more thugs appeared from opposite directions. While one was at the other end of the warehouse, and made Dory his direct target, the second sent a wave of hyperdense slicing wind at the Eskandishman from less than a dozen meters away.

The woman let out a shrill kinetically-enhanced whistle that carried through the whole building and even up onto the roof. Then, she and her brother barreled towards Ashon, Xiuyang, and Seviin with everything that they had. If the deal had looked about to go through, it was 'off' now, and the escape was on.

All of Xiuyang's negotiations had seemingly come to naught. The boy was dropped out of the air, finally within her line of sight from the doorway, ready to be caught, even by a bed of blood magic to soften his fall if need be—but she had not been prepared for his captor to step in to catch him, or to stop a bullet of all things. In the moment, ten seconds of warning had only provided her enough time to process what in all the hells had just happened, and the aftermath.

"Well," she remarked, momentarily breaking character. "I had thought I was working with professionals." As she quickly approached Jaxan to inspect his body, a faint echo of a [Loon's Call] rang out, and Xiuyang's image began to visibly distort, as if her body were vibrating. It wasn't just Xiuyang, either: any who looked at her could hear the loon's call grow louder, feel their eyes begin to vibrate, and an unnatural fear slowly gripped their hearts. As the Colas and their goons charged, they nearly stumbled, ran off course, and their attacks missed, the disorientation appearing to get even worse the closer they drew to her. Their desired fortune was hopelessly out of reach and securely in Rettanese hands, or so it appeared.

In reality, Xiuyang was taking a big risk, and she knew it. Just as the Colas had disempowered the locals by convincing them that they were untouchable, she continued to bluff, trying to show the Colas that they were beneath her—no, she was untouchable to them. The power of this divine blessing she'd received from the Old Mother was an exotic and unfathomable power, one she hoped to use to inflict more terror on the Colas than even the forbidden magics could on the citizens of "Belleville."

But if it didn't work, she'd be surrounded, cornered in a warehouse full of traps, forced to defend herself and show her true, meager strength, of which the Colas could almost certainly match. Xiuyang could not be seen or heard properly, hidden beneath the masque and beyond the veil; perhaps her mediated urgency as she approached the body could be construed as confident, but her breathing was ragged, and sweat ran down her face.

Why was she going so far for one drug-dealing yasoi? She didn't need this money. She had her family, its legacy, and if things continued to go well, she had Ciro. It was the faces of her parents that haunted her: those hopeless, despairing faces that she'd seen for only a split second before they gave way to joy and hope. No parent deserved to feel the loss of a child, even if that child was a street-slumming ne'er-do-well like Jaxan... or like herself.

She was a Solari, she reminded herself—and the Solaris always came out on top in the end. It was the Colas who would pay the "cost of doing business."

Ashon watched as Xiuyang appeared to speak her native language and secured Jaxan for the group. He shook his head toward Dorothea's direction, muttering some profanity about Ersandenisers, especially as she hit the rescue target. Instructing Seviin to help tend to Jaxan, he recommended they avoid further agonizing the situation.

"We are here for the boy, and we have him. Now kindly yash duul spax joi Yanii'jexoff," he gestured toward them dismissively.

"You Ersandenisers are all the same!" the woman with the short hair shouted. "Wasn't it supposed to be: 'we hand you the kid, you hand us the cash' or are you White-wall dwellers exempt from holding up your end of the bargain?" She let out an exasperated noise. "You've shot him anyways. Great job!" She glanced over at Xiuyang. "I had thought I'd be working with professionals."

Dorothea looked rather flabbergasted. The lady of Fortune must be playing the cruelest joke on her. To think their target would fall in that split second to catch the lesbian’s sentence. However the boy did not disappear into nothingness was a sense of relief.

”Oi, taca!” She shouted towards the Yasoi that was meant to be the target. ”They’ll be fine, if it actually hit there would be nothing left.” She spat on the floor with utter distaste for the dyke. ”But if I were you, you should thank him. That little gift would’ve been your one way trip to whatever one of the five hells wants you the most.” A sigh left the girl. ”Lucky for you, I don’t leave business unsettled. So let me ask you, do you want to be shot… or” her free hand would go across her throat. ”Maybe a quick slash to send a suuthi down under.”

"Well?" Coca offered, "Are you going to try to run away with the money and kill us all because you can?" She shook her head, already knowing this type. "Or can we stop and act like adults." She paused. "Except for that one." She jerked a thumb at Dory. "You were aiming for me, bitch, weren't you?" She let out a low whistle. "My oh my, you're gratuitously bloodthirsty!"

It was so fast that Dory didn't sense it on time. A rush of air hit her and then a sound: a noise, right in her ears. It was overwhelming. It bent her over and ruptured her right ear drum. "You were saying, about my imminent death?" She was rushign forward now, brimming with energy, though whether she was headed for Dory or past her wasn't clear yet.

Dory flinched from the sudden painful sensation followed by a ring in her head. What a utterly annoying sound given to her by an even more disgusting person. "You bitch! You fucking peasant whore. How fucking dare you?!"

A wall of invisible flames was cast between her and the broad that rushed towards her. She looked scared? Her rifle fell as a shakey hand laid on her chest. "Please don't come any closer! I... I..."

It was at about that moment that Johann came hurtling through a wall between the Eskandr and his four allies, slamming into a pillar and going limp. For all of his mighty RAS, the big man was not much of a fighter and made no pretense at being one. The colossal yasoi he'd been fighting trudged through the gap, bloody and battered but still on his feet. "Aww shit, boss. These guys are a lot tougher than they was s'posed to be." He shook his neck and grimaced at the pain it caused. "That guy damned near took off my head."

Coca did not engage with Dory and paid her little heed now that she seemed to be temporarily neutralized. The ringleader raced for the doorway, barely acknowledging her hulking brother. "Less talk, Daiyet, more getting the fuck outta here!"

"How 'bout the cash?" he prodded, puzzled.

The orange-haired yasoi was also making a break for it. "We tried!" he shouted. "Fucking... Ching Chong there has him in some kind of fucked up bubble!"

"We run, brothers!" the woman shouted. "Live to fight until the next crime they blame us for. This was a resistance setup! It has to be!"

The girl clicked her tongue. "And here I made myself extra vulnerable for you only to have you ignore me." She grabbed her rifle and stowed it away, only for a handle of some sorts to appear within the hand that disappeared. "I'm actually quite hurt, you know? Were my acting capabilities not adequate for your standards?"

As her hand moved away from her chest it would seem as if she was a blade of some kind. It was straight, slender and the point turned towards the Lesbian that dared to not pay her no mind. "Won't you entertain me with this little squabble instead of being a sneaky, little, sound bitch."

Coca stumbled to her feet, shaking off the shove and glancing over at Daiyet as he 'took care' of Seviin and Johann. "Fuck! You really like me," the yasoi taunted. "Why else would you be paying so much attention?" With that, she shot up into the air, trying to race past Dory. "Not interested,!" she called, making a break for it.

"What a shame, such a shame. I wanted to have fun and all you want to do is sour my mood." The girl slashed the air a couple times as weird disruptive crescent-shaped energy bolted towards her new 'friend'. "Guess I do really like you. You've been truly fun to play with, little criminal."

"Oopsie, does that sting?" She looked at the other get hit by it with a long smirk. A couple more slashes were flung her way aimed at her leg. Might as well make this criminal a Lady of Misfortune.

The yasoi tried to deflect the sword, but it wasn't enough. The blade sliced clean through her leg and, when it wasn't there on her next step, she fell roughly, screaming, and tumbled some ways.

Immediately, Seviin broke off from her attempts to break through Xiuyang's strange barrier and made for Johann, but she paused and her eyes widened. She turned to the fleeing Coca and hit her with a powerful kinetic shove, that sent the Constantian yasoi crashing into a stack of crates. "You savage!" she screamed, though whether her words had been directed at Coca or Dory was up for debate. She whirled and glared at the latter, still on the move, and drew near to Johann.

It was at that moment that the colossal Daiyet lifted the ground up from all around her and slammed it shut like a trap with Seviin the rat caught in the middle. This, he hurled at the fallen student. "Two down," he crowed. "Two more to go!" he turned his attention to Xiuyang. "Fantas, you distract the other ginger, huh?" he commanded, sicking his younger brother on Ashon. "If Coca's gonna puss out, that's more for us!"

The yasoi tried to dodge, but she was too slow. Instead, she was caught across the side by the energetic slashes.

Inside the warehouse, Ashon had pointedly removed himself from the fight, watching with dispassionate eyes as Johann was mercilessly driven into a support beam and broken, Niallus split a man open and tore his arm off, Dory attempted to use an insidious weapon on a fleeing target, Coca was slammed into crates with bonebreaking force, and Seviin was lifted up like a toy and crushed inside of a massive ball of dirt, rocks and debris.

Then, however, there was another man looking at him: a ginger who was almost his mirror image, though not quite so heroically tall, buff, and handsome. It was Fantas. "You uh... you're the peaceful type, right, big fella?" He grinned nervously, eyes flicking between Ashon and Daiyet, who was busy hurling the ball with Seviin inside of it at Johann in what would only be a finishing attack. "Heh yeah. You just stay there and maybe walk out if you like, okay? No trouble, no worries. This ain't your fight, moila."

The money secured to her waist, Xiuyang approached the downed yasoi, her pace urgent but cautious. "Do you still draw breath, Moila?" Leaning on her staff, she knelt down to check his pulse. By the time Xiuyang noticed the wig, or heard Dorothea explain that the bullet must have been stopped, the bloodchild had already reached out and placed a blood mark on her, and began sapping her energy. "Sleep," he responded calmly. Perhaps he hadn't expected a "white-wall dweller" to be familiar with the school.

He would be proven wrong.

In an instant, Xiuyang was fighting back, her staff placed across his neck. The energy drain became weaker, until Xiuyang dissolved the blood mark. Her opponent placed another, stronger one that could stick, but for all the yasoi's skill in blood magic, the privileged schoolgirl, decorated with enviable enchanted treasures, was just that much stronger in the Gift. He could hardly make any reasonable progress this way.

"Open your eyes, you little shit," Xiuyang growled, seizing his hand. For a moment, he did—and for a moment, he saw beyond the veil. "You're at my mercy—" she seethed, struggling. Taking a breath, she continued. "—and your allies are about to flee straight into my trap. I'll make you a deal: tell me where the real Jaxan is, and I'll declare you dead and walk away. How's that? You can be the sole survivor of this; if you lay low for a few days after their execution, you might just be able to start a new life. Lie to me, however, and I'll dedicate all of my Family's resources to hunting you down," she threatened.

"So many words," Vani'la replied. "But it not matter. No deal." In response, Xiuyang brought her weapon close to his neck, and it began to bleed—a lot. It bled and bled, and there was no stopping it. "My apologies. Am I speaking your language now?" she said, her eyes wide and crazed as she drew upon the hatred she'd felt during that time in Yarsoc. "It's real simple. Tell me, where to find Jaxan." The echo of the loon's call began to fade slightly, but it was still difficult for Vani'la to see or hear anything but the illusionist pinning him down. "You can die now, if you'd prefer," she offered.

It was chaos outside of their little bubble but, inside of it, the boy seethed and glared. "You cunt," he snarled. "We don't have him. Never did, but we knew everyone was just gonna blame us, so we figured we'd make some money off of it if we were gonna be cooked anyway."

He was scared, though, beneath the show and through the indelible hatred that had been birthed here. "Said he was headed for the resistance, those fucking crooks." He shook his head as much as the blade would allow. "Spawning darklings every fucking step of the way without a care of heed. Oh, they're gonna love him." He breathed tightly, glaring. "I dunno if he reached them. If he did, he's fucking gone. Last one who saw him was Arsii, with some one-legged hooker. They were arguing." He seemed to be gathering energy subtly as he spoke. Who wouldn't in such a situation? "That good enough for you before you murder my family?"

"You complain of being blamed for kidnapping, but this is a reputation you've done well to earn. Stupid games, stupid prizes as the huusoi say. Should I pity you? Stroke your cheek and tell you I'm sorry for the misunderstanding? It's also rather convenient that you'd blame your enemies, you know?"

Indeed, why should she believe a single word this scumbag said? The door trap said all that needed to be said: the Colas were prepared to kill them and take the money without any negotiation whatsoever. Every single word they'd said afterwards was deception, trickery, gaslighting—and now, this worm was drawing energy. It would be his final error. Subtly, Xiuyang resolved herself to finish the job, drawing the blade across his throat. Her enemies had not retreated as she'd thought they would, and further attempts to negotiate from both sides had fallen on deaf ears. Her friends were in danger, injured, and in one case, burned alive, and she couldn't afford to let Vani'la live, even though it had been her original intent. Not an ounce of trust could be afforded to these maggots.

You're becoming more like him, came the voice in the back of her mind. Was it praise? A warning? A threat?

Regardless, she ignored it. The yasoi would die.

The moment that she took his life, the protection of the call faded and Fantas came for her with everything he had and no words. A colossal pillar of fire erupted around Xiuyang, but there was more. From his palms leapt beams of heat by the dozens, feeding the inferno, growing it. "You murderous fucking bitch! You think doing it sneaky lets you get away with it?"

"Shall I dumb this down for you fucking parasites?" Xiuyang said as the bubble faded. "No Jaxan, no deal!" she shouted as she twirled her staff, meeting Fantas' Marhazannet with all she could muster. As it became clear that it was not going to be enough, she chemically raised her pain tolerance to stop herself from screaming uncontrollably. "Jaxan was never here! Every word they say is a lie! Every deal is a trap! Kill them all!!"

Ashon scratched his head. “The goal was to return the Boyo to his father. Why do people keep making this more complicated?” He stuck his arm around Fanta’s shoulder and pointed toward the others. “I mean, clearly being scrunched like that has got to hurt.” Then he pointed toward Niallus. “Though it looked like he got more handsome.” He shook his head, then gestured toward Xiuyang, who decapitated Jaxen in front of everyone. His jaw slackened, then closed. “And that is the girls’ first blood right there. Poca.” He smacked Fanta hard against the back of his head, pushing him onto the floor. “Go to sleep, yaya.”

There seemed to be no stopping Johann however. He drew in half of the roof and turned it into a million or so gossamer metallic threads, each sharp and slicing. This, he drew from a thousand directions onto Daiyet, but the big yasoi blasted them away with a roiling inferno. In return, he launched a massive arcane lance at the Kerreman. Johann sucked in still more energy and and launched back a solid beam of metal as if it were a laser leaping from his hands. They met and the metal splattered, congealed into shards, and hammered Daiyet, impaling and slashing at him.

Bloodied and beaten, he staggered back, but there was rage such as nobody had ever seen in the normally gentle Johann's eyes. "I'll tear you limb from fucking limb!" he roared, standing in place. As the others watched, he began to change. Massive amounts of heat and energy rolled off of him, distorting the air and turning the sany soil into a glassy crater. Smoke and steam filled the air and, when they cleared, the young man who stood there looked totally different. Where he had always been huge, it was now loads of lean muscle as opposed to fat that covered his hulking form. He pushed off and, in less than a second, he had covered the distance between them.

Great bony protrusions sprouted from his fist as he drove it into Daiyet's ample gut. The yasoi tried to block, but his arms were snapped by the sheer force of the blow.

He healed them almost instantly and drove a powerful kick into Johann's flank, but the Kerreman's body seemed to almost bend as it absorbed the strike. He spun away and then, somehow, he landed a hammer fist from above. It should've been impossible It should've.... Johann had grown a third temporary arm! It was drawn away to nothing in no time at all and the energy put into a colossal lightning beam that leapt from one giant's hands and plowed into the chest of the other. Daiyet smoked and twitched, stumbling backwards, but there was no mercy here, only pain.

Johann's foot connected with his head and snapped it back, spraying blood, sweat, and teeth everywhere. A slicing wind dissipated against Johann's swirling barrier of heat and cold and he emerged from it almost enritrely unscathed. "You!" shouted Daiyet. "What the fuck are you!?"

The Kerreman said nothing. He merely stalked forward. A desperate arc lightning was absorbed and he swelled further with energy. He grabbed the giant by the shirt, reared back, and then his mouth opened. It widened. It grew impossibly wide.

Pure D E A T H leapt from it and, when the smoke, dust, and rubble from the blast cleared, Daiyet's headless body slumped to the ground.

The colossal fireball faded and, burnt and battered, Xiuyang still stood. Then, came the sneak attack from behind: Ashon knocking him out with a single application of chemical and kinetic magic.

This was it then: a fight to the finish, in the long tradition of Ersand'Enise's relationship with Mudville. Change a name and maybe all you've changed is a name after all.

Ashon picked up the temporarily indisposed Fantas and handed him over to Pepsii to carry. “Take him and get out of here.”

Pepsii nodded, his eyes searching the ruins of the warehouse as more of these Ersandenisers poured in. For a moment, something built behind those eyes. Was it rage? Was it regret? Was it something that words could not adequately give name to? This was impossible to say, but then he nodded painfully, held out his arms, and took the unconscious boy.

Heart heavy, he was about to turn and leave, but that was when it happened.

Dory whistled, making her way toward the fallen knife-ear. "You were blessed it seems! You resemble the Lady of Misfortune now, aren't you happy?"

The sword ticked against the flooring.

Tick

"Now, do you want me to kill you or perhaps we can strike a deal."

Tick

"I do like you, you know?"

Tick

But the look that she got in return was one that basically told her to fuck off.

"No, That's a shame. Guess we'll just have to part ways."

The disturbance that slashed her leg off started to tear open further, the yasoi that was Coca became enveloped within it. The recently one-legged yasoi's screams and struggles were for naught, no matter what she did she ended up the same way.

"At least part ways with the you that makes you... well, you."

And soon the disturbance faded back into the VOID, along with the knife-ear that she oh, so adored.

"Take pride in this, little knife-ear. I don't usually do this for anyone."

The girl smiled warmly as an entity emerged from the VOID. It looked familiar to the people who were around it but it wasn't quite what they remembered. A vile creature born from another, a mere shadow of what Coca the person was.

The Void that had swallowed Coca opened back up and, from it, issued a monstrosity: a gnarled and twisted version of something like his sister and some mockery of the Lady Vyshta, all in the form of a hideous demon. It let out a mindless screech of pain and rage, but kowtowed to its master's bidding.

That was the first thing that Seviin - freshly emerged from her deadly cocoon and gasping desperately for breath - saw. Her eyes widened in horror just as Dorothea's had widened in glee. She looked up at Niallus and over at Ashon and Xiuyang, numb and stunned. Did they support this? Had they been part of it? If they did, they were no better than the Colas and possibly worse. She staggered to her feet and began to draw energy.

Pepsii set his brother gently on the ground. He breathed in and out and nodded apologetically in Ashon's direction. "I had hoped for a happier ending," he intoned sadly, and then he began to cast.

It started with grass that raced across the floor, and vines that snaked up the pillars. Trees and great flowers sprouted and flourished from the bodies of his fallen family and they grew. They became huge and colourful and full, but then they began to change. Where they had once represented the beauty he had seen in his siblings and friends - imagined or real - they now represented his sadness, his bitterness, his regret at lives dishonestly lived, his murderous rage at Dorothea, who had gone only after fleeing targets and always in the most reprehensible way possible. They grew up around the monster that had once been his sister, ready to consume her.

Ashon’s expression wasn't one of disappointment; it was something worse. “That twisted abomination is not of this world,” he declared, drawing his blades. “I’ll help you put her to rest.” He nodded toward Pepsii, then called out to Seviin. “Get the boy out of here,” he instructed, indicating to Fantas.

Dorothea saw another damned Yasoi prepare to engage her, this truly became tiresome. Then the betrayal of one that she would've considered rational. "You're really going to align with the person that tried to kill us?! Have you gone mad, monkey boy!?"

"Don't you remember what our task even is? We are here to find a missing boy, not being virtuous little students!" She began to cast a defensive tear in front of the monstrosity. "We can kill it when it stops proving useful." She signalled for Zabarchazad and Arisztaxa to be ready when her supposed ally can't be reasoned with. "Be smart about it, please."

Pepsii turned to Ashon. "Reason with this yanii," he said in Hyparish. "Do not ruin this family of yours on account of mine." He shook his head. "We were bad people anyhow, even if we weren't always."

He strode forward. "Come now, warlock, do your worst."

Ashon looked at Dorothea grimly. “Then dismiss her, let her soul rest. That abomination is a terror beyond death. These petty thieves are defeated; there is no need for further blood to be shed,” he urged, crossing his arms. “There is no honor in what you have done. Cease your actions.”

"Can you guarantee this one to actually stop?" She pointed towards Pepsii before something that she could not stomach. "Honor? You care about honor around these evil people?" Whilst she talked Zabarchazad closed in towards the unconscious Fantas only to drag them down into the VOID, keeping them safe from any other person.

She shot a look towards her 'countryman' "Johann, at least you could see the worth in having it stay until all matters are resolved, right? I am trying to have them see the light."

Ashon raised an eyebrow. “We outnumber him,” he said, thumbing toward Pepsii. “He was about to leave when you decided to do that to his family,” he gestured toward the abomination. “So kindly stop being a taca and return that thing from where it came, and put an end to this.”

This was the sort of person who made all unconventional thaumaturges look bad, but - oh - how powerful she was! Johann considered. "Strategically, you are as astute as ever," he agreed, "but this is a moral and religious matter as well. She has a soul that needs to be released to wherever it will go." He glanced over at the massive, headless corpse of Daiyet. "Don't we honour our fallen enemies back home?" This was an undesirable situation to be in and he worked to suppress a scowl. For Dami's sake, read the room! You can always summon another less publicly later.

That was not the reaction she hoped for from the only rational person in the group. "You are right with that, I suppose." There was no way out of this it seemed. Her blade readied. Her hand caressed her recently made companion's cheek. "You truly deserved better, but these people do not wish for you to live."

"Your soul is strong, may it prosper." After one final swipe across the other's cheek her hand left. One swing and the beast was without it's head. Dory looked... saddened? . . She let out a displeased glare at the monkey boy before moving onto the only one that made some lick of sense. "You owe me an entire night of beer if we end up in a situation where she would've been helpful, got it?"

And the body would fade back into the VOID, soulless and away from this world. "Does this please you, mister high morality?"

If the standoff between Ashon and Dory had been brought to an abrupt close, the situation was far from over. Fantas had been stolen through the void while they weren't looking. This witch's evil truly knew no end and she would care not in the slightest for any moral or even practical argument. There was only the threat of death remaining. The eldest of the siblings teleported in beside her. "Let my brother free from that prison unharmed," he said simply, "or I will blow this entire place up, with you, your demons, and your friends. We were bad, but I've seen the face of true evil today." He let out a snort of ironic laughter and began to glow. "It'll be nice to be the hero for once."

Dory smirked. "Not so fast, friend." She turned around slowly to not cause any aggression from the other. "There is no need to blow everything up, for if you kill me here... Your brother will face the same fate as your sister and then there will be no one to save them from said fate." Her hand extended towards him. "But I can just return your brother to you, so how about we make a deal for it?"

Pepsii's glow intensified. "You speak and say nothing," he replied. "I'm waiting." There was absolutely no way he would shake the witch's hand. She could either choose to return the yasoi or die. That was it.





Schism


Xiuyang backed away, severely battered and burned, frightened by the power that reminded her of the dragons in ReTan. She would not stop the behemoth of a man from burying his sister. She had the money, and had been attacked and tricked multiple times. Feeling like a target, she moved to the outer edge of the conflict. She rushed to Abdel's side and whispered to him in hushed tone. She didn't bother to play up the accent—he knew who she was. "The hostage was another Cola brother. Before he tried to kill me, he confessed strange things to me. We might be able to find Jaxan, but I don't want her with us. How do we lose her?" She gestured towards Dorothea as she slowly patched what she could of her burns.

Seviin stood there listlessly for a moment. She breathed gratefully. Then, she twisted about and laid her hands upon Niallus. "Oirase Aloi, Seviin siin joi juu wast p'oilan." She closed her eyes and a soothing feeling raced through him. Burnt and damaged skin, an angry, bleeding red, gave way as fresh new skin, pure and pale, raced to cover his wounds. "Be healed, friend." She drew back, and he was. She turned and walked over to Johann. He, too, she laid her hands upon. "Stay your anger, moila. You are safe now. Exiran has taken him."

Abdel was still healing his lacerated flank and arm when Xiuyang had joined him. Ever the vigilant Tethered, once the big distraction named Pepsii was gone, he could piece together the current mess his senses gathered. Most notably the wicked and dense magic, one he had learned or at least a year now to be dark magic, was sicked upon one of the hooligans.

“The eldest pinned it on the resistance.” answered Abdel without the trouble of hushing up. They were very much at the edge of the battlefield, and the sounds of war caught most outliers' attentions. “Did you hear something similar?” once his wound healed and his plain apparel knitted back together, he peered the Rettanese-Revidian's way. “If so, we could gather those we need and leave while this bordello solves itself.” he figured, nonchalant to the chaos unfolding.

But then he let a half-hearted chuckle escape him. “What troubles you so much about her?” he did not seem amused, but instead pensive - a true pokerface barring the force smile when speaking. “A monster might be what we need to deal with other unsavory creatures.” once again, his eyes were made to meet Salomé's. “Would you save this woman that caused you grief if you could?”

The Skuggvars were there, Abdel was ready, they could leave right now if they so wished. But he seemed more interested in knowing Xiuyang's position in all of this.

Seviin could not bear to look at what had become of the criminal woman. Bad deeds, bad ends. Yet, she also saw Dorothea, beyond a doubt, for the creature that she truly was. This was not the heat of battle, this was a deep illness of the soul and there was no cure for it in this life. It was Seviin who interrupted Abdel. "I would. It is not ours to decide who lives and who dies, merely to respond as we are treated." Her hands found his side and sped up his healing until the wounds were gone. "She was a bad a person, but nobody deserves this fate, ever."

There was still Xiuyang left, and Seviin hesitated for a moment, uncertainty in her eyes. Then, she reached for the Retanese as she had the others. "I will answer your question, Xiuyang Solari," she replied beatifically, but her hands trembled as she spoke. "The only way is death." Soothing energies worked their way through Xiuyang's body after those words. Did they feel any different than they should have?

"Yes, he said the same thing to me," Xiuyang replied to Abdel. "From the sound of things... in the worst case, they may be... keeping him as an aberration generator." She squirmed at the notion. "We may need monsters, perhaps, but dark magic? ...I hate it," she confessed. "I've seen the VOID. Its secrets should be buried," she insisted, as one who had been swallowed by it during the Trials surely would.

She turned to look at what was left of the girl who, like her, had tried to play ringleader and paid the price. "She dealt dishonestly at every turn. I was going to give her the money, forge an escape route for them if that wasn't enough of a bargaining chip. I had a ship ready and everything. I showed her far more kindness than she deserved... but even she doesn't deserve this fate, Abdel. All of us are good people, some with a few issues... but that woman is different. Can you not feel it? How she hates the yasoi, and takes shots at the vulnerable and fleeing."

Then, there was Seviin, healing what Xiuyang could not herself. From the beginning, the preachy girl had been more useful than the pragmatic Rettanese expected her to be. Rather, had she been even the slightest bit preachy since this whole ordeal had started? Her presence had become almost soothing, even... ...and then, there was what she said. Xiuyang's blood turned a bit cold. She glanced at Abdel to see his reaction. "We... It's not that simple a matter. What are you suggesting?" she replied, still whispering. Her eyes were locked on to Seviin's, inquisitive, but not judging.

Seviin shook her head sadly. "Mother Oirase brings us all into the world with love." The burned faded from Xiuyang's skin. Surely, she'd have been able to heal these wounds herself, but the act of having another do it - another care for you - was somehow a better thing. "I am not saying that we should kill her, but for the way that she is, death is the only cure." She pulled her hands back and wiped a single small tear from her cheek, straightening. "That is the Gods-honest truth." She tilted her head in consideration. "For now, we must be a united front, not violent, but drawing a line against such abomination." She looked meaningfully at Abdel.

"...Right," she offered, unnerved all the same. Perhaps it was her own family's legacy, her own darker nature at play, but she could have sworn that it seemed as if Seviin wanted her to arrange for Dorothea's "accidental" death, somehow. Perhaps she was fishing for some trick Xiuyang may have had up her sleeve... and in truth, she had two more cards to play, but now didn't seem to be the time to lay them on the table. This entire venture with the Colas appeared to be a waste of time and effort, and it was time to end it. "Thank you," she hastily added. "I mean it."

"But your assurances do not reach your eyes," Seviin replied sadly. "I am sorry."

Xiuyang's eyes widened, taken aback. "No, really! I know you care, and I trust your judgment. It's just... showing sincerity is hard, for me. No one trusts a Revidian, or a Rettanese." As if to prove her point, her eyes involuntarily averted themselves. "...Jamboi needs my help," she said hastily, taking off.

Many appeals to emotion, some reasonable, some Abdel took issue with. Seviin's intervention was sweetened with her thoughtful assistance in the healing process, but sentimentality wasn't something this young man was going to afford.

That said, the binary nature of their options didn't sit well with him. “She is a problem, but not one we should necessarily direct toward us. If anything, despite the alienation, this has been to our benefit.” he looked at the carnage that was happening, and chaos and destruction. “Well, sort of. Still, I'm of the mind that we finish this job and don't get on her bad side. Keep her as a boon.” very utilitarian of him, but the concern in his expression he tried hard, and failed, to keep cool sold out his own anxieties.

“As for the Cola woman ...” she sighed, annoyed at the fact that what he was going to propose may very well complicate everything. But, alas, Seviin's approach to thing left him feeling as though he owed some humanity to the moment. “We do have experts on the subject in our current cohort, do we not? The short ones from the desert. If anyone can rectify VOID-bound issues, it could be them.”

“... Nevermind.”

"As you say, Abdel Varga." Xiuyang had darted off, afraid of Shiin's truth, and it was the two of them alone. She watched him for an extended moment as Dory sliced the beast's head off, before turning to regard the developing situation there. She had no further words for him.

Xiuyang stalked up to Ashon and grabbed him by the arm. "He's giving us time to get away," she hissed. "She's insane. Let's just leave."

But did that boy, before you killed him? Seviin wondered or was it self-defense? It took unusual restraint to hold herself back from saying it. The priestess would never deny the gift of Mother Oirase to a living, sentient being, but she could not remain with these people in good conscience.

Perhaps the masked woman who had proven to be Xiuyang was not inevitably bound for hell. She had shown some capacity for doing right at the eleventh hour but she had also taken that boy hostage in some sort of spatial bubble and, while Seviin had not witnessed the act, he now lay there dead with a slice across his neck. Unless the Retanese had a very good explanation...

This was not somebody who Seviin would choose to work with.

Abdel's response to Dory's brazen acts of evil had been eye-opening as well. He had wanted to keep the Feskan as an unpunished ally and wished for the monstrosity to persist. He had to have known very well that there was no curing such a condition and, if he did not, he was foolish in addition to his cruelty. Either way...

This was not somebody who Seviin would choose to work with.

Lunara had proven amply willing to spill blood over trivial matters and Johann had killed, though in the heat of battle, as Niallus had maimed. Of Oksana, she knew next to nothing. Healing was her priority, so she had done it, but she remembered Ashon's words as well.

Fantas was nowhere to be found and, as she listened to the drama playing out a short ways away, the reason became horrifyingly clear. It was not the first time that such an anger had built up in Seviin, but she had always managed to find Mother Oirase and Lady Ypti. I am sorry, Ashon. I am sorry, Fantas. I should have been better. I should have acted quicker. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. "Mother Oirase, forgive me. I have failed you," she whispered to herself but, truly, to them.

There was yet one more to save, however, and she rushed over to heal this final target: the thug who Niallus had nearly torn apart. When she reached the desperately wounded man, he was in a sorry state. He had tried to sneak up on Niallus for some final act of revenge, but he had failed. He lay on the ground, his side burnt and blasted and carved open, his left arm gone. "You stay away, Tarlonese bitch!" he rasped, but there was nothing he could do. She simply knelt. "You will live," She said.

"Fuck you," he spat. "Exiran has me already. Do not take me from his -" His words cut off in a choked gasp of pain. Behind her, the situation was worsening. People would die and she did not have any time to waste. She began to heal. "You will live," she insisted, hands shaking.

He tried to swat at her head as his strength returned. "No! Fuck you!" he howled. "What kind of life is this? One arm, a record nobody will trust, and everyone I know dead in this fucking shithole? Take your mercy and shove it up your holy snatch."

"Father Damy gives us the right to act hurtfully." She swallowed.

"Stop!" he screamed, and then Seviin was out of time. There was a greater need. She stumbled back listlessly and began drawing with every ounce of her capacity. Mostly healed to the extent that he could be, the one-armed man began racing for Niallus, doing his best to kill the Eskandr or die trying. "Niallus!" Seviin shouted, "On guard!"

Still, she drew, as Dory smiled with a beatific smugness and continued to hold out her hand, as Daiyet lay dead on the ground, Pepsii glowed brighter and brighter and his energy became unbearable, as Mentos hurtled towards the scene bent on a glorious death. Great walls of stone and debris began to form all around the scene, and between her friends and the now-inevitable blast.

Dory did not return Fantas. Vani'la'cola and the thing that had been Coca'cola lay there dead. The walls grew higher and firmer. Pepsii looked Dory right in the eyes. He turned both of his hands up and raised his middle fingers. "Eat shit, Yanii bitch."
He erupted.


Xiuyang saw it before it happened. Ten seconds was not enough time to get away. Nothing needed to be said: Seviin was already working on a barrier, and Xiuyang sprang into action to support it with her own magic. She ran to Seviin's side, leaving Niallus in the hands of Eshiran. There's the Seviin I know, saving someone worthless, she thought. It was always when faced with death that she found the oddest thoughts crossing her mind.

Sweat poured down her face as she struggled with the immense power. Then, horror: Ashon's skull was obliterated in front of her eyes. Xiuyang froze. How could this— "NO!!" She let out a primal shriek, reaching out in front of him to do... something. Anything! He couldn't die here, not now, not before he had the chance to hold his own child in his arms—

It was a brick. A loathsome, stray brick from the street, as wholly mundane as any brick could be, as if it had been picked up by one of the Cola brothers themselves and thrown at them out of spite. In reaching out with her hand, Xiuyang found it broken—but a broken hand had just saved Ashon's stupid face. His stupid, handsome, lovable face.

Then, it was over, and Xiuyang collapsed onto the ground, practically convulsing from the pain and the general strain on her body. Remarkably, almost nothing around them had been destroyed: the others must have directed their Gifts toward deflecting the energy of the blast into the sky.

But not Xiuyang. She needed to live, and Ashon needed to live, and Seviin, and Abdel, and Johann... This dump of a neighborhood, the biggest hotbed of crime nestled within Mudville like some kind of tumor, could burn along with the Colas if that was what it took to save the ones she cared about. The others were fools to prioritize the locals... but perhaps their foolishness was what made them endearing, in the end.

Darkness had coated the girl except for her face which she tried to keep up to potentially reason with him, but alas it seemed like he was determined to throw his life away. The weight of desperation and urgency hung in the air. She could feel the oppressive heat of the Yasoi's imminent eruption.

“You suicidal oaf! You’ll die for-” Her voice, a blend of anger and fear, cut through the tension. Her words, however, fell on deaf ears. He didn’t hear her out, not too different from what everyone else did.

The last bit of what people could see of Dory’s form became shrouded as the Yasoi erupted. In that split second. The energy released was fierce and uncontrollable, begun to be sucked into the darkness as a cocoon of VOID energy. However, it could only suck up so much. The sheer force and magnitude of the explosion pushed her barrier to its limit.

Her mind raced, accommodating for any imperfections in her ‘coating.’ Any tiny flaw, any moment of weakness, and she’d be turned to dust. It made her heart pound like a war drum. The energy battered her shield relentlessly. The thoughts around feeling that heat was unbearable. When the explosion finally subsided, the silence that followed was deafening. Her body trembled, a weak smile plastered on her face for her survival. She looked around, eyes wide with the realization of how little destruction there actually was.

The entire ordeal felt like an eternity even if it barely lasted a couple seconds. ”Nothing. . .” Dory began to be fully visible once more. She stared at her hands, before touching her face. The shock dissipated and her weak smile turned into pure elation. ”Heh. . . Hahahaha, I told you!” She kicked in front of her as if she kicked the lingering spirit of Pepsii. ”Not a scratch! I told you, but you didn’t want to listen.” She embraced herself, took in the air and laughed at her own survival.

Slowly, Xiuyang healed her broken fingers and shattered wrist. No longer was she shaking from the pain, but rather, pure rage. If the Colas hadn't been stopped from fleeing, it all could have gone off without a hitch. Her plan had been perfect, and not only did this bitch ruin it, she'd nearly got Ashon killed. She waited for some sign of unity from the others against Dory. She waited, and not only did that sign never come, she found a few side-eyes cast her way as well. Of course. Let the wealthy and powerful noble who ruined everything get off scot-free, blame the conveniently-placed nameless mercenary. Cowards.

Her rage, rational or not, boiled over until she could barely contain it. Rather than speak, she wisely reached for her medicine of choice: alcohol. She took a long chug from her gourd, then poured one out for the Colas. You know what. Fuck this. She walked over to Abdel and unceremoniously dropped the money box at his feet. "You want to work with her? Well, I don't. I'll see myself out," she said plainly, unwilling to speak further as she was obviously holding back some complicated feelings. "Well, there's no Jaxan here. You kids do whatever it is you do after beating the bad guys," she said, raising her voice so the others could hear. "Goodbye." With a curt wave, she left without even looking at them.
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Hidden 7 mos ago 7 mos ago Post by YummyYummy
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Velles 19th

Location: Zengali - Mezegol
Day of the week: Victendes
Time: Evening
Characters: Zarina, Biby, Horus, The Blue Beauty, Ayla, Taleja @Ti, Vuvu @dragonpiece, Leon @Jumbus






Like an orange blur, dusk had passed and made way for the clear, starry skies of Severa. Before she could regain some lucidity, Zarina found herself gawking at the burial ceremonies from afar, shoulder leaned against a tree and overall looking mightily suspicious. How did she get here? The details of it she could hardly recall, like a routine she had done a thousand times. But she was there, body restored but mind not quite whole.

Widows cried, men lost their bravado and children stayed strong from their hurting, singular parents if they didn’t join the mothers in anguish. It was like any other funeral, with the themes of the sea not unknown to the coastal girl. She owed it to the men that had lost their lives to be there, but she did not have the courage to, as an outsider, impose herself as the one who couldn’t have done more. She knew they wouldn’t see it that way, but it was a good excuse to save herself some more grief.

A smart decision, she had come to find, as all this time lost to an ailing mind had produced a most curious fruit, still fresh in the mind and intangible - begging to be made real. Inspired, and with the sounds of celebration in the horizon, Zarina had a mission.





One blue chicken. Twenty seven contestants. One Virangish. One little Hippoboi. One shadow.

Zarina stood among veterans and savvy locals, a fish quite literally out of water with a strange animal in her bag. In an act that resembled a certain degree of self-consciousness, she left the bag onto one of the many tables used by the people to share the many feasts shared for the event. There was a conspicuous bump inside of it.

“Winner gets the chicken?” she inquired with a lazy index finger pointed at the animal’s cage.

"That is right missy! But she is a favourite this year. Will you be bringing a team?" the young host inquired with immeasurable cheekiness.

Zarina shrugged. “I don’t think so, no.” her gold hues brushed through the many that had now taken the role of gawkers. “More glory alone, right?”

A wave of chuckles and snickers resonated in response.

"Courageous! You are taking the true gauntlet. Know you will have to do so without magic. Are you still ready?"

“Hmm? Oh yeah, sure.”

The other contesting didn’t stop in their condescension.

“Delusional foreigners again, the thresher has them all worked up up there.”

“Brave girl, heh heh.”

“Laugh all you want, we still have all these fools to deal with.”

Before long, they were all set to begin the game. Once the shot was fired and the panicked chicken unleashed, all sprinted, including Zarina. She was going to play the game like anyone else, there was no doubt about it.

Many frontliners already met some unfortunate accidents with their overzealous efforts to catch the unusually swift and rowdy avian. A couple already gave up after feeling the pressure from the over two dozen men and women. Zarina, looking to still be in some zoned-out state, simply stayed with the peloton. None had gotten too close yet. Not until a good six or so had blown off the event in favour of another opportunity opening.

The fat had been trimmed a little. And then the first incident occurred. A young and athletic woman just … Didn’t feel all that energetic anymore. Like she hadn’t slept all night. She nearly tripped! Eyelids heavy and calves a tad number, she opted to sit out. The same happened to some of the more aggressive runners.

Soon enough, Zarina was one of the more invested players by simply remaining content with her job. The mages sensed no real drawing from her form, or any participant either.

They were like flies. Eventually, only a few not-so-threatening obstacles remained, and of course the chicken. The lazulite avian she was keen on saving - none could doubt her reasons, as a Darhannic. Given that a few of the drowsy and worn out contestants were also aligned with such a goal, suspicion had no real direction. The chicken faltered too, barely able to flap its wings and scratch an unburdened Zarina from gently sweeping it into her arms in a maner that it quickly found a desire to roost.

A winner, one that many were unsure to celebrate for. Well, the contestants anyway, but the cheers of the audience that had been paying as much attention to their meals, ware and other events as the competition itself wailed with their vuvuzelas.

Chicken secured, back into a cage for the Virangish to claim. So too was another avian - a black one that had been hopping from rooftop to rooftop with a little something in its unusually dextrous wings.

"Zazzy Zazzy! I follow! FOLLOW!" rapid nods came from the pitch black monkeybird holding none other than Biby.

“You did a very good job, Horus.” praised the mildly content owner. Biby, on the other hand, was antsy and quickly hopped back into his portable bag-home, while Horus was allowed to visit a few colourful things before being brought back home for bedtime.





Zarina’s grand revelation brought her to the next destination: Vuvu. Few foreigners found value in these obnoxiously loud instruments. The Virangish was no different. But there was something they were good at: Being loud and far reaching.

A sack full of magi was dropped before the Vuvuzela queen. It prompted a curious set of blinks from the woman. Nearly a hundred of these coins! For vuvuzelas?!

"M-miss!" the great Vuvu, said to be quite the terror, was caught off guard. "If it is a joke, it is of bad taste! After a funeral, Stagfulaizah ahidi …"

“Not a joke.” said the teen with the regally blue chicken still in a cage held in one hand and a hipped sticking out of her bag over the opposite shoulder. She smiled. “I want as many as you can offer. And a carpenter. I definitely need a carpenter.” the way she talked, one would think monotone, but it was more so overly casual for the situation. Crazy was one’s first conclusion. Was this why so many had died?

Vuvu furrowed her eyebrows. "No. I don’t trust this money." she waved in dismissal.

“Why?” a confused Zarina tilted her head.

"It’s suspicious, and I have a reputation to maintain! What if others want a treasure from Vuvu? Eh? Today is not a day for greed."

“Vuvu.” Zarina spoke after a brief pause. “You will be the hero of Zengali. I know you will. Your Vuvuzelas are the key.” she spoke with conviction and a completely unflinching expression. “I need at least twenty. And-”

A finger rose for Vuvu to stand by and then it reached for the inside of her top - a leather jacket that resembled what many other sailors wore. Out came a black scale - or rather a fragment of one. One of a kind, unlike any dragon scale one had seen before, and Zengali had its fair share of exotic animal imports.

"Is this to, as they say, sweeten the deal?" a sceptical Vuvu regarded Zarina, wary.

“No. It’s my bail for your treasure.” the item was posed right by the bag for the woman to claim. “I will return it. You can keep my treasure.” a more expression look came to be, one that pleaded.

Vuvu reflected for a moment. What did she truly have to lose?







A questionnaire was given, but attention was diverted to the sheer mass of popularity the Mbita and Chika service had garnered. Slow business, but good business. However, Zarina did not have all night. A breather was perhaps not the worst idea, and the fabric she was about to propose was going to be tactically used to usurp some attention.

Then appeared familiar faces. A blonde girl, one she had far too much fondness for despite the glaring flaws and warning signs. A distraction. A deterrent. And then there was another blonde, this one a man. A ghost, she felt almost. How? She did not know. Was she growing delusional? Was all this just some massive daze? Or did she die from the thresher attack?

The fabric initiative had to be delayed. A disruption in her unusually smooth plan. Where to next?

The chicken woke up. She could not think. A break was in order - an excuse to go back to her group’s retreat. There, she’d find Taleja, and ensure the cup had fallen into her scholastic hands. From there, the intellectual of the group could reinforce her theory. But the night was not over. There remained one more step to her operation.





For an established socialite and rumoured dancer, Zarina failed to deliver any sort of notable performance. The festival raged with energy and she partook enough to avoid ringing any concerning looks, but there was little excitement in this one's spirit. Monotone and distracted. Anxious, even. Information on the recent incident had spread with the memorial ceremony she felt obligated to attend. It was no surprise that, once she had found the boisterous Sun King between tents, hidden in plain sight, she lacked the distinct excitement many others were keen on showing off before the big day.

“On a scale of one to that Enthish girl you brought over, how anxious has tomorrow really got you?” was her opening, a clumsy attempt at humour. Clumsy due to the poorly veiled fact that it was actually genuine. “I'm not feeling any of it.” she confessed, arms crossed and handbag slightly squeezed to her side. Inside rested a hippo that curiously studied the performer's demeanour. Uninteresting, it concluded, a total lack of yum. It hid back in to nap.

“I'm not quite sure what to do once we actually do the job, either.” and with this second confession, a blue ribbon wrapped around her index finger emerged from her hand that had been previously tucked inside her elbow. “I've asked Ayla to join us, if you don't mind.”

Leon practically frolicked up to Zarina still buzzing off the night's events. "Zarina, I would pick 0. But I don't believe that was an option." It was an exaggeration but not entirely untrue. The actual threat of the Thresher was the furthest thing from his mind, a confidence fueled by lacking knowledge.

He extended a hand to offer Zarina to dance but she retracted a little. It was then he took noticed of her crossed arms and reserved posture, then difference between them was night and day. Leon knew Zarina to be strong of both ability and will, so whatever had got her like this was not to be ignored. His expression turned to concern for a friend.

He considered asking if she was alright, but she spoke with direction, he didn't want to deter her from it for now. "Of course I don't mind. It sounds like we three have a lot to discuss."

Ayla approached and wrapped her arms around Zarina, giving her tall friend a hug. “So, you are our big bad competition, eh?” she teased. “The amount of factional one-upmanship when we all share the same goal is ridiculous. How are they going to determine if it’s a Sovereign Pact cannonball or a Central Alliance one that scored the killing blow? And ultimately, does it even matter if the threat has been dealt with?”

She sighed and looked at the pair. “Enough of my ramblings. What is the goal of our discussion?”
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Hidden 7 mos ago 7 mos ago Post by Fallenreaper
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Roslyn Wicke
""Don't judge a book by its cover."

Little Stroll Along the Docks



Roslyn exhaled and then exited into the port. Her boots followed the dock's length until the festivity faded into the background. She considered ideas to provide provisions, but her head came up empty on a plan. The dread of facing the beast tomorrow didn't help. Lost in her thoughts, she had wandered towards the pirate ship.

She caught sight of an elderly woman being questioned by some Zengali men. Her head moved to notice the line of crates that weren't there before. Her eyes scrunched with confusion. Cautiously, Roslyn kept her unhurried pace while she tired to eavesdrop.

Lazily walking behind some crates, making no more noise than the waters, Roslyn ended up within earshot of their conversation.

"-'m just not sure if we can deliver these to you," said the smaller of the 2 men.

"But the merchant told me that he would have them delivered..." The old woman held onto her cane for support, obviously worried about her things being taken.

The larger man had a face of confliction, unable to side with his working mate or the elderly woman. Though it was somewhat difficult to make out the full scene with only the light of the moons.

Roslyn had delayed intruding on the conversation long enough. She sucked in a shallow breath and stirred her into action. Her form casually stepped out into view, continuing toward them down the dock's length. It wouldn't take long to notice her since she didn't hid the sound of her steps. She didn't know what she was going to do, but lurking like some timid mouse didn't help her.

The group had still been discussing whether they should relinquish the crates when the 2 men locked up when they heard Roslyn's footsteps. They turned around quickly to confront her, "Who are you? What are you doing here?" The big man shouted at her. The smaller one tried to keep an eye on Roslyn and the old lady.

Approaching them seemed less stupid in her head until this moment. It dawned on her how it must look, but it was too late now. Roslyn slowed her pace then came to a stop. Keeping her hands at her side, she spoke. "Sorry, I was just walking the docks to clear my head from the festivities. This place is a little different at night. I didn't mean to interrupt anything. "

It wasn't a total lie.

The large man more or less nods at her, turning back to the elderly woman. The smaller man turned back as well but he kept an eye on the suspicious new visitor. The old woman looked over to Roslyn, seemingly looking for help.

For a moment, she feared the worst. Thankful that didn't come to past as she then spotted the old lady's look. It tugged at the girl's heart. Roslyn hated her empathy some times as she then added. "I know it's none of my business, but is there anything I can do to possibly help?"

They had been talking when Roslyn joined the conversation. Small Man turned to her again, somewhat irritated at her. "Are you the wharfmaster?" he sarcastically asked her.

The Small Man gave her the 'what the fuck' look he could muster to her, "Go away woman." He waved her off like she a pest.

The old woman though, "I purchased these supplies and I wrote down the wrong dock," she tightened her cowl. "I'm terribly sorry, I really meant to put 2 not 7," she looked up to the taller man who seemed to be pretty uncomfortable with the whole situation.

At the man's reactions and harsh words, Roslyn inwardly flinched. That's when she caught the old woman's mention of supplies. Supplies, like provisions? If I can just... she stopped. Her heart dropped in her stomach like a stone in water, rapidly sinking to her toes. Do I really want to do this? Steal from an old lady for some pirates?

She sighed then pulled back from the conversation with the woman and smaller man. She refused to leave completely though as she spoke to the taller man. "Seems like a simple mistake, especially if she has proof about the supplies. So... why haven't they been moved?"

The Smaller man was growing more irritated with her continued existence. He readied another verbal lashing, poising himself to physically escort her off the pier. But the taller man turned to her, "The crates were scheduled to be delivered here. Anything that is suppose to be delivered here must be reported to the guards." He scratched his head looking back at the old woman.

"And that is what we should be doing, we could be at the festival instead we are working overtime for a blind woman," the Small man let out a disgruntled comment.

When the smaller man moved, Roslyn tensed and braced to dig her heels in. Her eyes hardened with a stubbornness before the taller man answered her. She quickly realized the reason he looked so uncomfortable. She reached up her fingers to pinch her nose for a moment. Her eyes looked once more at the blind woman. I can't do this. Not to a blind woman.

"Looks like there's only two options: continue to deal with the old woman or I can stay and try to get this resolved for her. I have a grandfather about her age, and I rather not see something happen to her."

The larger man laughed, "You carrying these crates? I mean no offense but your arms are even thinner than his," he slugged his friend's arm and small man shrugged it off like it didn't hurt. But the chemicals in his body told the truth, it hurt a lot.

Roslyn pressed her lips tightly as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't judge a book by its cover. Just watch."

Her eyes turned and walked to the crates as she drew in energy. Mumbling a spell beneath her breath, she reached out and 'hoisted' a crate with her arms. It twitched at first then began to raise with her motion. After holding it for several moments, she set it back down. She wanted for his reaction with a small smirk.

Small man gulped realizing that he had been yelling at a women that could break him in 2. The Larger man gulped realizing that as well. He might get beaten up by proxy. "Well you can certainly lift them," the large man spoke. He turned to the old lady, "Do you think you can trust this young woman to move them to the dock for you?"

The old woman, nearly blind, could still see the gift being used in front of her. A grandma smile spread across her face, "Oh I believe so, she seems quite wonderful and honest." She smiled so wholesomely at Roslyn, the young lass who put her neck out for an old folk like her.

The small man, once large in voice, was now small in his attitude, ready to get of this cursed pier before the mage or pirates come.

For a moment, Roslyn's pride swelled in her chest. The expression on their face was priceless as their attitudes shifted quickly. Her grin widened at how easy it was. However, the emotional high died when the woman praised her.

She bit her lower lip and then brushed it off. "I wouldn't say wonderful..." Or honest right now. Before the men walked away, she added one last thing. "That settles it. Oh, and you," she eyed the smaller man, "try to be more respectful. Now, go away man."

The small man didn't say anything, he just kept walking. There was too much at sake if the bitch decided to just snap his neck. But he had other ways to get back, he thought to himself.

Once the 2 men were well out of earshot, "Thank you again for the help," the elderly woman thanked her. "Those 2 were being real pains for me," she rubbed her neck and audible crack broke over the waves. "Let's get a move on," she nodded over to a peculiar ship that Roslyn was on earlier. The Grandma smile only grew wider.

"It was nothing," Roslyn responded. Her eyes scanned for any incoming trouble as she drew in kinetic energy from the water's movements. A part of her hoped it wouldn't come back and bite her in the ass later. Before she lifted up the crates, she caught the old woman's gesture toward the pirate ship. Roslyn blinked before it suddenly clicked. "I need to take my own advice it seems. I'm guessing you didn't exactly make a mistake, did you?"

The old woman gave a soft laugh, "Of course I made a mistake, this is dock 2 right?" Her smile stayed plastered on her face.

Roslyn arched her right brow and stared for a moment. "Right, forgot how the moons can make things look different." Not wanting to waste more time and get caught, she pointed her arm toward the crates. Her fingers clawed causing telekinetic magic to wrap about each one. They lifted one by one into the air as she walked them toward the ship.

"Right, the moons," she guided her up the gangplank under the the shadows of the main mast. The crates are placed but they made no noise. A candle on a small tray lit by itself in the woman's hands, she started to head to one of the doors to the interior of the ship. She looked back at Roslyn, the shadows flickering off her face, Eyes blackened in shadows but her smile was something wicked. "Care for some tea? We have honey~" The door started to creak open behind her.

Roslyn's eyes narrowed upon hearing the woman agree. An ice cold chill raced down her spine as she followed across the gang plank and onto the deck. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest with each step, feeling the discomfort growing. After releasing the crates from her magic, her attention locked onto the old woman. The young girl swallowed a small lump in her throat.

"It seems a bit late for tea, don't you think? And we?" Roslyn's curiosity warred with her fear, the later gaining strength.

She turned and walked through the entryway, the candle light going out as she crossed the threshold. Her figure was lost in the shadows but the creaking sound of stairs echoed through.

Roslyn frowned and stood there for a few moments. This was a bad idea and she knew it... but her curiosity ate up any more resistance. She muttered a curse beneath her breath then stepped in after the woman. She hoped her allies might actually notice her absence if she didn't return.

Each step creaked and soon the steps of the old woman disappeared. One step, 2 steps, 3 and countless more it felt. Soon she tripped on the floor. She went a little further and then a dozen of lantern lit up, blinding her for a second. The old women with the cowel was gone and in her place was a confident old women sitting on a chair with a table across from her. Tea was being poured and she looked up to ask, "One spoon or 2," she turned to some poor looking honey.

When light chased away the darkness, Roslyn's hand shielded her eyes. Her vision blurred then went back to normal. A burning sensation settled in her lungs before she realized she had held her breath the whole way down. She forced herself to relax as she inhaled. So many questions rushed into her mind that the young girl didn't know where to start.

"Just one please and thank you. Um, what did you say your name was again?"

The tea was served quickly but with an unusual amount of grace for a pirate. Their was no smile on her face, or any real expression at all. Just an old woman going through a basic task she has no doubt done 100's of time before. She took a sip of her tea, savoring it even though it was poor quality.

"Let's cut to the chase then. What's your name girl?" her voice was deeper and had a light gravel sound to it compared to the soft and frail voice she used with the men.

Roslyn, now seated, looked at her tea before giving it a sip. She managed not to make a face when the watery favor and strong aftertaste touched her tongue. Her head tilted up at the woman's question. She supposed it was fair that she gave her own too before expecting one. "Roslyn."

"You were on the ship earlier," she glanced at the girl's black eye, "got beaten up and still came back." She let out a small chuckle at the comedy that was this girl. But her face grew serious with Roslyn, "Very stupid to do so, what do you think happens to small women that wander near pirate ships?" the old women threatened Roslyn."But still," she paused, "You came back and helped me out, so I'll hear you out. What is it you want from me, Nanna Karmena, quartermaster of this ship."

At the woman's tone, Roslyn felt the familiar impulse to freeze creep in. She swallowed the lump in her throat and focused on the spark of anger in her chest. A part of her could guess the answer to the woman's question. The same thing that happened to any mouse that squeaked at a cat. So why was she doing this? It took her a moment to reflect on the answer. To ensure her loved ones survived the coming war.

The light of the lanterns flickered. Roslyn took a deep breath and stomped down her emotions. She felt ready to crack, but she couldn't right now. It was time for honesty and she hoped for the best. She set the teacup aside, "Due to my possession of a certain ship, someone from the central alliance thought I could earn your trust and sway you over to their side."

Roslyn paused, expecting to hear more laughter. It wouldn't surprise her since one act of kindness didn't guarantee trust.

A fawn.

That is what Karmena saw in Roslyn. Clumsy and curious of the world but ever so anxious and scared. The scene of a person like this sitting across from someone like her was just funny, not even worth the consideration.

But then the little fawn said the truth, "So your the one that ended up with the Nuvole Rosse." Her eyes went back to her tea, as she took a sip while thinking about what Roslyn.

Nanna Karmena smiled once again, "Quite the task they set for a girl like yourself," the smile grew. "Wandering into a famous pirate ship asking for trust just because you own a famous ship," she shook her head and clicked her tongue twice at the fawn.

"You're honest and young. Really perfect for the role they gave you," a small laugh followed and then she finished her tea.

"I could do it, get the men here to join hands with the Revidians. It wouldn't even cost me," she set the cup down, "But what would it cost you? You have the ship, wouldn't you rather ask me for some work." she raised an eyebrow with her. "Are you a girl sent out to do others bidding or a woman that takes what is in front of her?" Nanna Karmena has made her offer to Roslyn.

Roslyn found the woman's words not to be nearly as bad as she expected. Her head tilted upward and considered the offer. Back home, her father and grandfather had a simple life in mind for her. Marry, have children, and run the brewery until the end. She realized she never envisioned more or considered other options.

A few moments passed before the girl finally answered. "I gain more from your offer than swaying you to the central alliance." Once those words escaped her lips, she knew she had made her choice. She hoped it was the right one and the pirate didn't expect her to kill anyone.

Karmena appreciated the concise response, a pleasant smile came to her face, "Good, hate those pasta munchers." She stood up rather slowly and put up the teacups and honey, it was very business like. "Alright then, you have a deal, let's talk about what you can do at your level."

Nanna Karmena guided Roslyn further into the ship where they the discussed the details of the work she will be handed.
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Hidden 7 mos ago 7 mos ago Post by RezonanceV
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Goodbye

It was time.

Evander was propped on a rock as he looked out at the ocean. Listening to the battering of waves against the shore. His heart calm, mind at peace, with a cigar pursed between his lips as embers charred off the tip. Smoke rose along his hardened face and stubble beard. The sun painted gold over the rocky earth, sand, and waves, leading to Evander’s eyes peering out to sea. He didn’t mind this being the last view of the world he helped save, a bittersweet symphony playing in his heart as a sirrahi, of whom he’d grow close to, approached.

“Are you ready?” The question hung in the air, laced with hesitation, mirroring the weight of the moment. Evander met the sirrahi’s, one pair glistening with unshed tears, the other steady yet sorrowful. The silence stretched. An unspoken understanding of both their sadness and the quiet acceptance of inevitability.

“Yes.” The words were barely above a whisper, gentle and firm, each letter carrying the burden of their emotions. It wasn’t just an answer; it was a final act of acknowledgment, a gentle nod to the end of chapter, one that would likely never be revisited again. Sadness; a heavy presence they both felt deeply.

Evander kicked off the rock. Approached the sirrahi and placed his hand on their shoulder, “I’ll never forget our friendship and what we did here.” The sirrahi felt Evander’s sincerity, a notion to the enduring bond that will carry on between them through time.

“Me neither.” In that moment, despite their sadness, they embraced their understanding together, they’d take their next steps apart but not without the other.

“Goodbye, Disca.” Evander walked past her. All that’d remain in that place after the sun went down would be the footprints left in the sand until the waves raised high enough to wash them away.

Time, it was.

Emergence

The silence of a river; time,
Endlessly flowing,
Bubbling up the truth between
What is fleeting,
And eternal.


“Don’t let go old man!” Benny shouted as he took Evander’s hand. The portal through time opened and the two cut in. The speed at which they traveled was unrecognizable and indescribable. Those who experienced it knew, the rest wouldn’t understand. In a blink, the two arrived at just outside Fuscari Synesti’s estate.

“Here you are, home sweet home,” Benny smirked, “like you left it, except, they won’t recognize you, you’re old, I’d toss some fresh paint on your face and hide your wrinkled forehead.” Evander placed his hand on his head after Benny’s remarks, have I aged that much?

“Benny, what year is it here?” Benny laughed, “the same as when you left but you aren’t.” It dawned on Evander that he aged 10 years while living thousands of years in the past only to come back to the present as a 29 year old who everyone expects him to be 19. Evander felt a spin in his world. A real, what the fuck moment.

“Ok, thank you for your help.” Benny nodded, “yeah, if I were you go see your father, he’s been quite active in his network trying to find you.” Benny then turned, opened a portal, and jumped through before Evander could respond.
Walking up to the gate, Evander waved his hand to release a soft kinetic push to sway the doors open. His stride was one of hesitation, a creeping nervousness clawed away at his gut, how would he explain his absence? As he approached the door, Evander magnetically manipulated the inner locking mechanisms based on the Synesti code, click.

The 29 year old Evander nearly stepped in before guising himself younger. He instead used his arcane magic to transform his aged face to that fitting of a 19 year old, almost 20. Stepping through he was met with his father’s presence and roaring voice, “Who do you think you are!”

Evander paused, “It’s me, your son.”
“My son?”
“Yes.”
“Where have you been?!”
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t care how long it is, you disappeared, and I couldn’t find you…” Evander caught a hint of shame in his father’s tone and gesture before he finished, “I always find what I am looking for,” the shame turning into frustration.
“Now where were you?”
Fuscari repeated.
“May I come in to explain?”
“Can I trust you?”
“What!?”
“Do not, you’ve been gone and while you’ve been gone, our enemies grow bolder, stronger, and are looking for more reasons to spark war before we’re ready! You disappear at one of the most important times of our age and just show up at my doorstep expecting me not to question your loyalty!”
Evander felt his father shift from frustration to anger… no, it wasn’t either. He is scared.
“You’re right, I’ll explain.”

Assignment

Evander and Fuscari stepped-in-toe, side by side, in the estate’s garden. Fuscari traded current events with Evander’s experience with the sirrahi. An exchange Fuscari had trouble wrapping his head around: time travel, ancient snake-people, and knowers. Short of concluding his son gone mad, Fuscari asked, “if you were there for so long, why do you still look your age?”

Evander stopped, turned, and stated in realization, “hmm, it seems my magic has improved since we last met,” he raised his hands cupping his face to hide it from Fuscari, when Evander dropped them, he appeared his actual age, 29. Fuscari stepped back in shock, “y-you-“ Evander finished his sentenced, “I’m 29, 10 years older than you remember.”

Fuscari couldn’t believe his eyes, “how?” Evander referenced his story again. Fuscari didn’t know how to see his son, conflicted, he turned away to process.

“I know this is a lot, but, it is happening, now what do we need to do to move forward?” Fuscari was surprised at the level of composure and focus his son presented, he was obviously no longer a kid.
“Ok, follow me.” Fuscari led the two back into the estate. They walked by walls covered in art, historical portraits of their Synesti legacy, and finally into a room where a large map was rolled out on a large red cherry wood table, “this is Mezegol.” Evander followed to look over the map, [color=CC5500]“And?”]/color]

“One of our flagship vessels, Sant'Agata della Compagnia Rossa, was attacked by threshers off the coast of Zengali.” Fuscari pointed down on the map at where the first attack was and tracing his index finger to where the second was reported, “threshers attacks are not unusual in these waters but the consistency and timing of these are.” Evander’s face scrunched as he focused, “are you suggesting foul play?”

Fuscari nodded, “that is what I am asking you to find out.”
“Why me, why not one of your spies?”
“Because if I were to tell someone who crosses us and it falls into Perrench hands - Revidia is over!” His fist crashed against the table. Evander stepped back, “what could be so world altering in the ship?”
“What did I just say? I cannot tell anyone.”
“How do I find something when I don’t know what it is?”
“You will know when you find it, it’s a weapon and a chest, you must find it!”
Evander stepped back, he eyed his father, taking the reality of what once was and what now is. He couldn’t remember how exactly he viewed his father before his absence but it was of reverence, to be like him one day, to make him proud, to carry on the legacy and dream of the Synesti family. Now, he saw a man who was breaking in front of him because of fear.

Evander walked over to his father placing his hand on his shoulder, “I’ll find it.” Fuscari looked into Evander’s eyes and began to tear up, “I thought I lost you.” Evander wasn’t sure how to respond, there was a part of him that felt sympathetic and another that was distant to the whole world he was currently inhabiting. He was another piece on the board of a bigger war and yet he was a man who was expressing the pain he endured thinking his only son was dead.

“Well, you didn’t, now let’s get me to Zengali,” Evander said firmly to cut through the air and kill the emotions brewing out of his father’s soul. Fuscari felt the edge of Evander’s cut, “Right, there is a contact in Zengali by the name of Alberta, find her, and she’ll fill you in on the rest.”
“Ok, I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“There is a ship wai-“
“No need.”

Evander turned to exit and used temporal to portal to Zengali.


City of Zengali

A temporal portal opened outside the city of Zengali. Evander emerged and, with a wave of his hand, closed the portal. Walking across the city limits and through the streets, his nostrils filled with the scents of fufu, fried dough, corn, and freshly brewed stew with earthy spices, floral notes from blooming jacaranda trees, and the rich aromas of exotic fruits from bustling markets. The chatter of vendors and traditional music filled the air. It was a place celebrating the hunt.

Juxtaposed to these celebrations was the truth these people felt fear about the White Thresher. Evander pulled his hood down as he engaged with a vendor in the market. He appeared 57 with white hair mixed with traces of black. His facial features were soft, his skin tight but appeared as if drying out. Purchasing one of Zengali’s exotic fruits to bite into, he overheard two people sharing their concerns about the city. Evander had a slight understanding of the Zengali tongue due to their importance as a trading hub, but not enough if the conversation became complex.

The two Zengali’s greeted,

"Salam, Leilara! How are you today?"
"Salam, Tsara! I’m good, thank you. And you?"
"Not sure, are you keeping track of all the people coming into our city all of the sudden?"
"Yes, I heard they’re here because of the White Thresher."
"That’s what I heard too, but it isn’t time yet for it to be coming around these waters."
"It is odd, but what is predictable about a wild beast that has free reign of the sea?"
"I don’t know, something is just strange, first the Revidians, then the Perrench, now pirates are even at our docks!"
"Shh!" Leilara raised her hand to Tsara’s mouth.
"There isn’t changing anything that’s already happened and as far as I see it, let them hunt the beast for us, the creature haunts my dreams. My family and I have all lost friends to it, you too."
"It’s just terrifying, what if we don’t succeed or what if we do and these armies turn on each other in the middle of our city?"
"Then we deal with that then, but for now, we put faith in the Marquis."
"Inshallah, Leilara. For the sake of our families and our city, I hope our faith is right, we need to find peace again."

The two shared an exchange of goodbyes customary to their culture before parting ways. Evander finished peeling and eating his fruit before peeling off toward the docks as mentioned.

Zengali Docks

Evander Fino Synesti leaned against the sun-warmed stone wall wrapped in jungle vines, his sharp blue eyes observing the bustling activity at the docks. He paid attention to three ships anchored at port presenting a tableau of contrasting worlds, each rendering its own tale of adventure, misfortune, and duty.

Closest to him, the legendary pirate ship, St. Elmo’s Fire, sat quietly. The stern and rear hull were cut deeply by something with claws making a black devil look like a child. The ship’s once vibrant sails now faded and tattered, echoing the tales of its recent defeat as the wind whipped what was left of the sails back and forth. The pirates aboard seemed to be a shadow of their former selves, bored and malnourished. Lounging about on the deck and dock, listlessly staring out as if watching their hopes and dreams sink back into the drink.
Next, the Perrench ship stood in stark contrast to the lethargy of the pirates.

The Perrench crew moved with an energy not born of motivation but of impatience. Sailors barked orders and hustled across the deck, their movements sharp and curt. They were here on a mission, a different reason than the rest. While on the same dock, the Revidians were gathering their crew to disembark the ship of the recovering crew. It was a proud vessel standing tall with the remnants of ornate sails. The crew were spirited but clumsy, as if recently motivated but still recovering after a harsh daze. They moved with the sort of confidence found after staring death in the face and emerging victorious.

Evander discovered the cause of his people's restored will in the stories of Leon spreading around the city. People were using several names to title and articulate the events around Leon’s playing of the lyre that dispelled the disease of the Revidian crew. These names and titles would become legends and referred to by the people as; the ballads of hope, the miracle of Zengali, and the chords of mercy. Some were even referencing Leon as the Sun Bard of the Golden Strings. Evander noted, Leon, as quite the Revidian celebrity.

Through his time collecting information about the state of Zengali and its guests, Evander discovered Alberta was commanding the Revidians. He would need to connect with her first, figure out what the Revidians' plans are and adjust his own accordingly. Pushing off the wall, Evander made his way down the dock, his appearance masked by that of a 50-year-old man with a hood and cape weaving through the crowds. He approached the Revidian ship, his mind already strategizing ways to harness this opportunity in Zengali to bring together pieces to a larger puzzle.

Meeting Alberta

The moon hung high over the bustling port of Zengali, casting its silver light upon the restless waves. Onboard the Revidian ship, two guards patrolled the deck as the rest of the crew was helping each other off, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of trouble.
"What are the Perrench doing here? A young Revidian asked the older.

"The same reason we’re here, I’m sure.

Unbeknownst to them as they chattered, a figure moved with calculated precision in the darkness, cloaked in the subtle weave of temporal magic.

Evander Fino Synesti, his form nearly invisible in the dim light, leaned against the mast, carefully observing the guards’ movements. Inhaling deeply, he activated his temporal cloak, a shimmering aura enveloping him as time itself seemed to ripple around his body. To any observer, he would appear as a faint, ghostly image, lagging just a few seconds behind his actual movements.

The first guard, a burly old man with a thick beard, walked toward the bow, his boots thudding against the wooden planks. The second guard, a wiry youth with sharp eyes, lingered near the ship’s stern, his gaze darting suspiciously at every creak and groan of the vessel.
Evander timed his approach perfectly, moving with the grace of a cat stalking its prey. His silent steps from a soft use of his magnetic magic to keep his feet mere inches off the ground helped his presence go unnoticed. One guard turned as the afterimage of Evander vanished in mid-sequence. A subtle distortion, a trick of the light. The guard paused for a moment, frowning as he sensed something amiss, but he concluded his mind was playing tricks on him, rubbing his eyes and looking again, there was nothing but the empty deck.

Evander moved swiftly, his movements synchronized with the ebb and flow of time. Reaching the midpoint of the ship, he was nearing the captain's quarters. Timing was everything; a single misstep could shatter the illusion and reveal his presence. He pressed himself against the side of the ship, the temporal cloak shimmering like a mirage, blending seamlessly with the shadows as he moved across the deck.
Evander reached the door to the quarters. He could feel the strain of maintaining the temporal cloak, his magic tugging at the edges of his consciousness. With a swift, silent motion, he waved his hand to manipulate the metallic hatch with his magnetic magic to unlock the captain’s door. Using his kinetic ability, the door opened as if blown by the wind. He walked through, spotting Alberta eying the door without identifying Evander had entered.

Alberta rose from her seat, where she may have been planning, maybe waiting for a visit, maybe contemplating the last 24 hours of her life before the hunt. Now, she was peering outside, pressing the door closed, and as she turned, Evander stepped out from the shadowy corner of the room.

She was away from her defensive tools, vulnerable and surprised. Evander quickly noticing her reaction to fight, spoke softly,
"Do not be afraid, Alberta."
Alberta slowly crept back to the door to open and run,
"Who are you?" Her voice slightly pitched as her guttural response to an assassin was warranted.
"Evander Fino Synesti, on the order of Duke Foscari, Revidian national business. Do not open that door." Evander lifted the hood off his face as it revealed a young 19-year-old Evander.""What? What are you doing here and why are you sneaking on a Revidian ship?"
"Fair question. Right now it is best no one knows I’ve arrived, not until we fully understand the situation in Zengali." Evander had a sincere look on his face, "Alberta, my father said you could be trusted, what happened here?"
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You're Going Where?


Location: Brazen Head Beach, Ersand-Enise | Interacts with: Kaureerah @Force and Fury



"Hoory aup, saunfeesh!" Kaureerah's head popped out of the water, long blue-black hair clinging to her near-naked form, eyelashes batting. "Yoo heve been eeten by te shaurk foor tymes. Waun moore foor te secred naumber." Then, with the sort of grace a human - much less a non-mariner like Leon - never could've managed, she dipped down beneath the waters. He had ten seconds to make a break for it.

Leon, who had clearly bitten off more than he could chew trying to outswim an Eeaiko, was trying to hide his shortness of breath. One could say he was like a fish out of water here but it was very much the complete opposite. "Four? I think it was three by my count." He chuckled, the obvious lie was obvious. Then he snapped out of it as she dived, she was already getting ready to catch him and he had wasted precious seconds. Leon took a big breath and did his best to escape the hunter. It was doubtful but he might be able to impress her with a getaway this time.

There was a tug on his feet from the 'shark' and that was that. Both surfaced.

"Deed yoo knoow thet te saunfeesh hes no sweem bledder?" Kaureerah chirped. "Soo eet maust keep sweemeng oor eet weell seenk. treading water, she flipped her hair over a shoulder and reached back to undo and tighten the drawstrings of her bra. "Hauwever," she continued, "because eet es soo poorly baulenced, eet auften fleeps over end ees pooshed too te soorfece auf te oceen where eet jaust flaups eraund emlessly." She nodded sadly, still fiddling with the strings. Perhaps it was the webbed fingers. "They caumpensete by leyeng three haundred meellioon eggs et e tyme." Kaureerah chirped, but her face turned frustrated. "Looks lyke e waurdroobe maulfoonction," she teased.

"Are you calling me a sunfish?" Leon joked. "Because I certainly hope you aren't expecting me to lay that many eggs." Seeing her struggle with her bra he reached back to tie it for her. As much as he enjoyed a well-timed wardrobe malfunction, there were people back on the beach. Finishing the knot, he held her by the hips similar to that of a male lead dancer. It was interesting because if anything she was supporting his weight and not the other way around. "At least I can be handy in other ways, even if I'm not the best swimmer." He winked.

She simply leaned forward and gave him a small kiss. The beach was not all that busy yet and she had kind of wanted to do a little something, but maybe it was good that Leon was a gentleman. Maybe it made him mean a little bit more. "Your hands are very... talented," the eeaiko admitted with a cheeky smile.

It had been morning and was now trending towards noon. They began to make their way back, holding hands for part of the journey, until she could feel her feet touch sand. Leon's already had and he was essentially pulling her Why do men have to be taller? she wondered inwardly.

Without meaning to, her eyes scanned the beach. It was a habit built from years of living in the shallows. There were no Lek-i-koom - sandbar threshers- here. She shook her head both to clear it and reassure Leon when he noticed and shot her a quizzical look. "Oold haubeet," she remarked. "baut Eye doon't sense eny threshers, forr whaut eet's woorth." She winked to make it playful and squeezed his hand.

Leon eased up knowing that her caution was built on habit rather than a genuine threat being present. Scouting for threshers was something he never even had to consider. It showed the difference between their upbringings but made sense when he thought about it. "Really?" He said with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous look in his eyes. "Because I think you're forgetting about the sunthresher." In a swift movement, he pulled her hand and dropped to the beach such that she landed on top of him. Dressed in nothing but tight-fitting shorts, he would have to deal with the sand that caked his back. That didn't distract him from the moment, his hands reached down and gave her butt a squeeze in a cheeky simulation of a thresher attack.

But the topic of threshers brought the mission to the forefront of his mind, in the fun of the date it hadn't crossed his mind to tell her yet. His smile grew less playful but more fond. "Speaking of, I have a beast like that of my own to contend with coming up, the White Thresher. I think your swimming lessons might come in handy." He brought one hand up, rose, and kissed her forehead before falling back to the sand. "Try not to get too lonely without me, okay?"

Kaureerah was midway through turning to face Leon, about to straddle him, when he dropped the bomb. She blinked, sitting astride him, toes in the sand. She shook her head, covering worry with playful dismissal. "Eye theenk Eye sauw thet waun," she admitted. "Eye ended aup tekeeng enauther." She was wringing her hair out now, regarding him with an unreadable expression. "We coold've ended aup toogether eef saumwaun deedn't aulweys woork aun saunfeesh tyme." She rolled her eyes and sunk forward until she was lying on his chest, the top of her head nuzzling up against his cheek. Momentarily, she craned her neck to kiss his chin.

"You what?" Leon played off with a chuckle, cautious not to ruin the moment but the shock was evident in his voice. Quite simply, Kaureerah taking a mission caught him off guard. With all the perception he had of the girl, there was nothing that led him to expect that she would risk her life for something as inconsequential as a school mission. What reason did she have to fight? "If this is the joke about the missing cat mission, Tku already told me that one." There was denial in his voice as if trying to believe it was a joke when he could guess differently. He caressed her back gently, trying not to let his poorly hidden confusion disturb her.

"Wee eeaiko eet cets, Leaun." She stroked his chest absently with one of her hands as she said it.

He paused. Even if she delivered it in a joking manner, it was all but confirmation that Kaureerah was going on a mission, a real mission like the Lorenthine Queen. It only now set in for him the meaning of that and he would be unable to affect the outcome of any of it. What kept him all the more unsettled was that he couldn't tell why. Why would she risk her life for something like this? But it wasn't his place to demand an answer, she was a woman free to choose as she wished and if that was what her heart desired then what place did he have to stop her?

"I'm starting to really hate sunfish time about now..." He spoke longingly and wrapped his arms around her. Perhaps wishes of safety and good luck should have come to mind, but none did. Instead, he held a little tighter. For now at least, he just wanted her close to him.

Kaureerah lay on top of Leon and closed her eyes, feeling the warm sun on her eyelids, a bit of it coming through, making them purplish from the inside. She could hear the apprehension in Leon's voice - feel it in his arms and shoulders. "Baut Eye'm okey weeth eet," she replied, both firmly and tenderly, and she was. "Eet's aur tyme," she murmured into his chest, "Saun end feesh, yoo knauw?" She opened her eyes momentarily to smile at him. "Mekes these moments thet mauch better..." She let her head back down, closed her eyes, and breathed. He breathed too, their chests resting against each other. For a moment, she held him a little tighter as well.




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T H E M Y S T E R I O U S G E N T L E M A N




Morning in Belleville__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _

It was early morning in Belleville. The ragged shadows of rooftops stretched like a serrated edge across the city below the city. Many were still sleeping at this hour, but enough were up and already moving about. The lucky few lined up at the gates of the White Walled City, presenting their identification papers to the century and being - mostly - ushered through. Even fewer were those who went the other way. Yet, among them, was a yasoi gentleman. Was he a bloodchild? It was difficult to tell…

The first step on his journey was the Pelova neighborhood, formerly referred to as Moli’s Emporium. Although for the most part, it had been utilized as an alternative to the student dormitories, there were some wealthier individuals who had the fortune to live here. Some of those very people who had been involved in an altercation with the rampaging students from the City of the Bells found a knock at their door in the hours of Shiin. Many regarded the gentleman warily, given recent events, but none turned him away, nor did they refuse the words he bore. With those words, came reassurance, stipends and gifts. For every home he entered, he made sure to leave an apple behind. `

It was not so very long before he made his way to the next destination, his pack lighter thanks to his generosity and goodwill. The next stop was a quaint one, a buudvuud shoppe that had just started to fire up the ovens, and the smell was a delectable one. A rather large order was placed and, as the delicacies were hand crafted, the Gentleman spread word and arrived at his gathering point. A great yew tree stood there, its branches ancient and gnarled. It had been there and been ancient for as long as any alive could remember.


Sermon Under the Tree__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _

More and more people arrived as cloth and table were arranged and set up beneath it, and what began as a small gathering soon became a crowd of people that threatened to spill out onto the road. So many had gathered in an impromptu manner that it could not help but evoke some great mette’stiroi of years past. They supped, and drank, and danced, and laughed, and the painful memories of yesterday were replaced with a most pleasant warning, as the mysterious gentleman spoke to all. Most of all, he drew the attention of the freshly-arrived youngsters who knew little Avincean but much hunger.

“Seth’sil joith wes elai luum ciin laz’yii?” the man asked the gathering. For a brief moment, the general chatter stopped as they thought and considered the question. An older yasoi lady who’d brought her two grandchildren to the gathering chirped up first, giving a lighthearted remark “Ap’ya liin doam’elar, luuca?” she asked, and it elicited a small chuckle from most. The next response was different, and somber. A young lady, maybe 7 or 8 spoke next: “Tuulet soam pa haxé duul hal’oft…” and a similar silence to when the question was first asked hung over everyone for a moment. One of the grandchildren turned to the elder that had spoken first, and said something that resonated with many of the crowd.

“Alac soam hal’oft.” and the gathering was silenced once again, until the Gentleman presented the young lad with a crisp apple he pulled from his satchel, and spoke once more. “Pa yax oft,” came the reply, which once again started the murmurs.

“Sen’oft?” questioned one wondering child.

“Sac’eleiz lulus’oft,” snorted a man who might’ve been his father.

But then an elder spoke. She was easily a hundred years old - born before the bad times - and her gravelly voice somehow cut through the din. “Dii.” She shook her wizened head. “Hal’oft.” Her eyes rose to meet the Gentleman’s. Were they evaluative? Expectant? Hopeful? It was hard to tell.

He nodded at the elder, and began to speak once more. Some had forgotten who they were, the history of these lands and the people that once inhabited them, but some still remembered. They had left signs, after all, such as the ancient yew tree that they sat and conversed beneath. A gift from Ashilai’zenet’stiran, the first of a venerable institution that had been stolen and appropriated by those who lay claim to all within the white walls. The very same walls that held a name that was familiar to all who sat and ate, for the name of the city was written in the very tongue they spoke this day.

It was a story that they all should’ve known. Yet, it had been pointedly buried by the huusoi. For all of the Gentleman’s charm and knowledgeability, he might’ve sounded like a charlatan were it not for that tenuous thread of a few elders who’d been around before the Southern yasoi had become a broken people: who’d been around to learn these histories. Now, however, this piece of yasoi identity was restored. Now, however, these people left the gathering with a sense of purpose and belonging that they had been without when they entered. Each also left with an apple, for one must nourish the body as well as the heart and mind.

There was a rumbling disquiet, however, that his words had prompted amongst those gathered. From beyond the white walls of the city that had once been theirs had violence descended on the people of Mudville, in what seemed like an inevitable, continuous occasion. Moli’s Emporium had not sated the appetite for blood that yanii seemed to hold, and they’d struck again. A homegrown criminal association of yasoi named the Cola Brothers had been annihilated last night, and more than just them had been affected. Students of the school swung the hammer of Damy around as easily as breathing and with as little thought. Yanii or yasoi, it was once again left to the people of Mudville to pick up the pieces, but they tired of being nothing more than victims. How they tired of it! It was in this context that a handful came to him at the end. It was in this spirit that they entreated him to visit the new scar wrought upon their home.


The Last Drop of Cola__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _

It might’ve been an hour hence, when he stood there beneath a light drizzle, taking in the ruins. This was something that was clear. This was something that they should feel anger towards. “Why are you here?” a voice came from behind him, and he turned. He recognized a young woman from the gathering. A man, perhaps a few years her senior, stood beside her and one could guess that they were brother and sister.

“It’s a shame, luuca?” The Gentleman spoke with an incongruous calm, not the strong emotions that the sight should have elicited. He shook his head

“Plenty is,” grunted the man, crossing his arms as he surveyed the wreckage.

A silence sat over them for a minute or two, before he spoke again. Whether it was contemplation or empathy was difficult to distinguish.“Heavy is the hand that has never sown a field. We are killed simply for the crime of being small.” He spoke almost as if he was reciting poetry.

“We were big,” replied the woman. “Least people thought we were.” She shook her head. “Put a target on us, so we tried to make a buck off it. Better than nothin’.” She looked out over the wreckage, a tightness taking hold of her face. If she’d cried any tears, she’d cried them already.

“Big in the pond of Mudville. Small in the ocean of the White Walls.” he gestured toward the city that loomed large over Mudville with a tinge of disdain. “Every time we play house with them, they knock it down. They didn’t care if you took the boy, they saw a chance to practice a trade they know all too well: violence.”

The man with the sword seemed a bit less inclined than his sister to simply go along with the crafted narrative. “As did we.” He scowled, and his face felt unreadable. “Just messed with a bigger fish. There’s always a bigger fish.”

The Gentleman once again shook his head and smiled sympathetically at the man, procuring two apples from his bag “The difference is…” he paused for a moment, tossing the fruit to the siblings. “You did it for profit. They did it for fun.”

The siblings looked at each other. “Maybe,” the man allowed. “But does it really fucking matter?” asked the woman. “They killed us. I don't care who's right or wrong at this point, but they killed my brothers, my friends, and my…” her face tightened up. “My sister,” she managed to choke out. “They slaughtered us like goddamned animals.”

The man rested a hand on the hill of his sword. “They were working with the resistance,” he spat, “like you…luuca?”

The Gentleman paused. Conviction and confidence took his face as they spoke. “It does matter, because there is still good in this world. There are still those who care about justice, of righting wrongs done, no matter how recent.” he paused, turning to Arsii next. “Jaadas. For the souls of your kin who were wrongfully condemned.”

Cherii narrowed her eyes. “Juuras, for their deaths.”

“Upon those who committed the act,” intoned Arsii.

“Tan’daxii. For the people we can still save from this fate.”


The Best Revenge__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _

“You're one of them, then.” Arsii pursed his lips.

“I'll expand on my original question,” his sister continued, “that you haven't answered yet. Why are you here and what do you want?”

The Gentleman smiled at the pair, earnestly this time. They were sharp, even in the throes of grief. “The answer… is hopefully the same as you. The end of the resistance, and the cowards who support them from behind the walls that should rightfully be ours.”

“You’re brave to operate here,” Cherii observed.

“I wasn’t always. You have to be, around these people.”

Arsii made a sour face and spat. “So they are working together.”

The Gentleman nodded. “Two birds, one stone. Support the ‘right’ side, and keep us out of their city.” he paused for a moment, before shaking his head at the last words he spoke “Our city.”

Arsii nodded, glancing at his sister. “Sounds just like ‘em,” Cherii agreed. “So what do you want from us?”
“I’m fucking tired of it, moila,” Arsii admitted. “I’ll be honest. I’m no revolutionary. I wasn’t even a crook until they made me one.”

Cherii’s eyes went to his and her hand rested gently on his arm. “But we’ve done things you might not believe,” he continued. “The road to Damy’s hell and all of it.” He shook his head tightly. “Fuck.”

“I won’t sign up for a suicide mission,” Cherii declared, “and I won’t let him do it.” She crossed her arms. “The best revenge we could have is living.”

The Gentleman strode forward calmly and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze of reassurance. “It’s never too late to change course, moila. Damy has given us the will to choose our path.” before turning to Cherii and offering a hand to shake. “I would never ask that of you or anyone else, especially after all you’ve been through.” he looked down; whether in shame or empathy for their loss, it was hard to say. “But I cannot do this alone, else I would. ”

“We’ve less than no chance against them in combat, and if they’re with the Resistance, you can double that.”

Cherii shook her head. “No. It’s something else.” She regarded the gentleman steadily. “Luuca?”

He nodded and smiled, meeting her gaze. She’d been blessed by Shiin and Ypti, even if Exiran spited her oh so recently. “Ta. Even if we could do to them what they’ve done to you, it’s not the way. A complete victory takes time, as does true justice.”

Arsii crossed his arms as well, mirroring his sister. “I’m listening.”

“I know where they meet. A comrade passed the information along, but she looked too similar to dear Fortuna, so further infiltration wasn’t possible.” he spoke, gesturing to one of his legs.

“And why not you?” the bandit prodded. Cherii shrugged and inclined her head towards her brother in agreement.

“If I could have, I would have. Unfortunately, I’m known to some of them.” he shook his head in annoyance at this fact.

“And you’d rather not blow your cover,” the redhead observed. It was Arsii’s turn to nod.

He raised a hand in agreement with the statement, “I have a plan, if you’ll trust me. But it’s better we don’t discuss it here.” he looked around warily for a moment, but snapped his focus back to them. “I have friends behind the walls of our city. Let’s walk and talk.” he patted his knees, before gesturing for them to follow. “Oh, and don’t forget to have some refreshment.” He smiled, taking a bite of the last of the apples.







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Hidden 7 mos ago 7 mos ago Post by Force and Fury
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Tekah, Guy, Penny, Ciro: A Collaborative Episode



A Sailor's Folly__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






The Jig is Up__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






Fun with Revidians (Part One)__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






Fun with Revidians (Part Two)__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






The Boss__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






A Royal Audience__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






The Gloves Come Off__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






Exuding Confidence__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






Here Comes the Pain__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






The Cavalry has Arrived__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






I Love it when a Plan Comes Together!__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






Crossing a Line__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






Weight of Evidence (Part One)__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






Weight of Evidence (Part Two)__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






A Loyal Soldier__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _






Summary__ ____ ___ __ __ _ _







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Hidden 7 mos ago 7 mos ago Post by Force and Fury
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@A Lowly Wretch
C O N S P I R A C Y




Rikard had promised the locals a lightning show for their parade and, with some semblance of his usual aplomb, he delivered. Inside, however, he was freaking out. There was no other way to accurately put it, as utterly unscientific as it was. They're hiding weapons of mass destruction: biological terrors. He drank, because he could and because he needed to, but it was not the gleeful thing he'd hoped for.

In truth, he'd joined this mission for a mix of research opportunity - he'd wanted to test the limits of a commandment spell on a particularly large creature - the sheer adventure of it, and a chance to continue to make a name for himself. It was important to build up some level of cachet as a mage, after all. he'd also done it for the money. He had little and less these days for his equipment, and a mage was little more than a warlock without quality gear and the knowhow that could be built by using it.

What he'd learned from Laure, however, had changed everything. Assuming this wasn't some sort of Perrench ploy - and why the hell would they choose him of all people: the fourteen year old who near-everyone belittled - there was now a clear moral imperative. The people on the Revidian side who he knew were likely in the dark as to the true horror, but perhaps they could be warned. Perhaps they could be brought around. This broke the Owl's Code, and very clearly.

Momentarily, he thought about speaking with Ayla, but things were a bit... weird these days between them. Leon wouldn't listen anyhow, and he couldn't actually find Ciro. Then, it came to him! Trypano: the least Revidian Revidian he had ever met, and she had a certain sort of outside-the-box morality to her. He'd seen her earlier, hanging about the fringes and stocking up for the inevitable fight. Gods, she came across as creepy. Why did she need to be so creepy? Her heart was mostly in the right place, he knew.

He endeavoured to find her.

Trypano stood in the docks where the others who were commissioned to this task alongside her had split up. Ever since they split up she hadn't seen nor heard from any of them. She certainly hoped they were seeing some sort of success to their investigation as she had only been stymied in her own efforts. Denied the opportunity to heal the wounded lest she create more of them and cause a scene she was relegated to simple chores, all to help ingratiate herself to a populace who would never trust her. In her cloak, masking the thing that lurked below, she simply stood and looked around. Much had been done but now she knew neither where everyone else had gone or what more she could do. She had half-contemplated leaving to find the wreck on her own accord but from what she heard the thresher in question apparently still haunts the remains of the wreck. This was definitely interesting given what the creature may possibly have gotten into but leaving to try and investigate it by herself was foolhardy. She was neither too arrogant nor too curious to rush the investigation as to the shipment that was mentioned in the letter to her simply because the opponent was not a foe of greater mind than her.

As she stood, the dark cloaked figure standing out like a lamp-post in the middle of a forest, she noticed Rikard in the distance seemingly searching for something. Without saying as much as a word she began to silently approach him, intent to inquire as to what he may be looking for and if she could lend any aid to that task as she was lacking in any purpose of her own here once she was within modest conversing range.

"Trypano?" Rikard whirled on the spot as she seemed to materialize like a black, crimson, and bone white phantasm from the darkness. His heartrate quickened for a moment. "That you?" He took a few steps forward, tentatively, trying to to make obvious any drawing he was doing... just in case.

"Indeed." She replied, the sea breeze mingling with the fabric of the cloak and the few strands of hair which seemed to hang loose from the hood.

"Have you had luck with your endeavors thus far?" She inquired, looming over the young man albeit unintentionally. Her tone spoke little of her intentions but what little that could be seen of her face looked... Tired. Not exhausted physically but weary in spirit perhaps.

Rikard glanced around and Trypano may have felt a sonic bubble descending over the pair. "Luck is... one way of putting it," Rikard replied, "though I guess it is." There was some distress evident on his face. It may have been of a different nature than hers, but it was present nonetheless.

Seeing as he prepared a sonic bubble to help isolate the conversation while it may have been prudent to move somewhere a bit more out of sight there was less issue in speaking freely here now.

"Regarding the thresher situation I've been informed that the creature still dwells nearby a wreck along the coast. One of the benefactors to this mission had written to me regarding cargo that had materials of interest to them. I am of the opinion that the thresher may have been affected by the materials that were indicated to me which is why this thing is of greater issue than a standard thresher." She notified him of her findings regarding the creature. It did seem to be that Rikard himself had happened upon some findings regarding their target potentially, hence his look of concern.

"I can assume you have found info regarding the creature? Or would it be a matter of concern aside from it?"

Rikard shook his head, all of his body language bleeding anxiety. "No. You're right. I've learned plenty." His eyes darted about. "Those 'materials of interest' are a bio-weapon of unimaginable power, or at least some of them are." He swallowed. "I met with some eeaiko." He paused for a moment, trying to decide just how much to say. "They mentioned a plague and were taking extreme precautions against it, but they were also very certain - they'd seen things, being people of the water, you know - that confirmed the plague was manmade."

The youth spent a moment nervously fixing his lapel, which had gotten flipped up at some point. He looked her right in the eyes. Gods, she was tall and creepy, but his experiences told her that she was good people nonetheless. "It was being carried on the Sant'Agata, for use against the Perrench." Finished, Rikard shrugged. "I'm telling you 'cause you don't strike me as another patriotic goon who believes imaginary lines on a map define good and bad." The fourteen-year-old rolled his eyes. "I'm right, right?"

Trypano listened close, following the details of his findings with keen interest. He held into question whether her allegiance to her country was not greater than her moral compass. He was correct to assume this though perhaps not for the reasons he might assume.

"That is correct. Even if I originally had such loyalties, not that I ever did, they would have evaporated some time ago." She turned to face the waters out past the harbor, folding her arms behind her though they still remained concealed below the cloak.

"You and I were both present for the incident in Rettan wherein the knowers made their presence known. Prior to that I had also spoken to Ahn-Dami and both aspects of Shune in the forked tower where I had first learned of the knower's existence and their shadow war with the gods on this world. Later, in an incident during the aberration-storm that took place in Ersand-Enise I as well as a select few others were temporally translocated by an unknown phenomenon. The location I had arrived was of this world's future, one set further than what even the others had arrived at." She turned to face Rikard once again, the gravity of the mood at hand much graver than even the biological weapons Rikard was faced with.

"I had not shared what I saw with many as I'm not even sure if anyone would believe me, let alone understand what it means. With the war ever on the horizon I wonder how much closer we draw to that ending." She was uncertain how much further down the rabbit hole Rikard was interested in peering. Whether or not he'd rather focus on the now and set aside matters of distant concern or whether he'd hear out what she has seen and consider their circumstance on the greater scheme of what is transpiring. With that said she stared back with her scarlet red eyes, only barely visible beyond the veil of her cloak, into his own.

"I hope I didn't need to specify but do keep the contents of what we're discussing secret, both regarding the biological weapons and the contents of my visit to the forked tower since both hold consequences for those who are found to have revealed it." A stray thought came about as she considered the matters currently on hand however, prompting her to look back out to the waters and ponder.

"Also, try not to eat any products of the sea. Depending on the nature of this "bio-weapon" you've discovered we'll need to see if it is airborne, waterborne or bloodborne in transmission first before a more formal containment procedure can be confirmed."

Rikard... was given pause, at all of it really. The food he'd eaten suddenly sat awkwardly in his stomach: a potential poison, and yet the eeaiko he'd eaten it with had been wholly in the know and taken great pains to prevent the spread of any condition. He hadn't sensed any pathogens either. That didn't make the unease fade completely, though.

In all honesty, he wasn't certain what to think. That Trypano was telling the truth as she saw it was clear, and a grim truth it appeared to be. He didn't need to know the specifics to hypothesize that some form of marhazannet was waiting in the wings. The only confounding variable was her level of sanity. She'd always been brilliant, but he had, only recently, started to become aware of how profoundly different her views on reality and morality were from... virtually anyone else's. Some of what she'd said had been corroborated. Some of it hadn't. Regardless, he decided to err on the side of belief.

"Well, if the ending is a bad one," he remarked, "then I think we oughtta change it - make sure none of that gets out, regardless of what one government or another wants." He'd heard talk of a 'miracle' in town, connected to Leon, and hadn't had the chance to explore it. He furrowed his brow in thought before glancing up at her. "Hey, do you know anything about what went on with Leon in the medical encampment?"

Trypano could see he took at least some of what she had to say in. While he was still focused on the now it was good that they were at least mildly aware of the circumstances. It would save on future discussions when it comes to catching them up to the why's behind her choices.

"While I doubt this will change much in the long run it serves no one any good to let a leftover hazardous material bring needless harm." She brought a hand up to her chin, cradling it in contemplation. "Still, another concern is how the thresher plays into the story at hand. A ship of importance shouldn't have fallen prey to a common pest so easily, lest something else was at hand here. I can only wonder if it's abnormalities and the contents of the ship are connected perhaps. There was plenty of unknowns to this tale, each new detail shining a light from a different angle on a shape only just starting to emerge.

"Sadly I was turned away from the medical encampment by a couple of the local militia. I was in the company of Taleja for a short bit before she was allowed in whilst I was denied entry. I cannot attest as to what transpired but given their primitive state of care I can only assume they performed basic magic which would have easily been mistaken for a miracle." While her tone was neutral the choice of words carried a harsh undertone towards these people. It was just a mild bit humiliating for one of her skill to be relegated to civil repair duties, like using a finely tuned astrolabe to hammer down a nail. Whilst it did build some measure of good will from the locals she knew well and true that favors done for others were oft in one ear and out the other whilst prejudices tended to cling like barnacles to the hull of one's judgement.

"Whilst I suspect that Taleja has a similar interest in the contents of the wreckage I know little else about how most others from our school are faring in this hunt for clues. You're probably the first I've been able to formally relay most of this info to."

Rikard considered. "Well, we should keep each other informed," he allowed, "arbitrary divisions or not." He nodded slowly, thinking. It was getting late and they were starting to look suspicious, standing here and exchanging information under a sonic bubble. "I agree, for what it's worth, that the animal must've ingested something that led to this, but I think we both agree that evidence trumps conjecture."

He pursed his lips. "I'm gonna try to track down Leon. I wanna figure out how he treated it and what he knows. Just... let's not be partisan. I think whatever's in there needs to be lost, and the fact that both Wolf and Serpent are trying so hard to get their hands on it makes that even clearer. " With that, he made a signal as if to start lifting the bubble.

Trypano left their conversation off with little else than a nod. She understood that they needed to proceed, further conversation better saved for when they've progressed their discoveries. She waited to see where Rikard was going since meeting and hearing what Leon had to say would be doing more than what progress she was making out her.

"I'm headed for the house," Rikard remarked offhandedly, after watching Trypano hang around like a lost puppy for a moment. "That where he'll be, and sleep is probably a good idea after that." He shrugged. "You comin'?"

"Nowhere else to be currently." She answered, following along with little prompt.




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Hidden 7 mos ago 7 mos ago Post by Emeth
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The Fox and the Hound






Some Time Ago - Before Ransom Demand

After the Trials that had turned friends to enemies, Xiuyang's dorm had been ransacked: furniture overturned, papers scattered, bedding shredded, art destroyed or stolen. It was fortunate that she'd had the foresight to start storing her valuables somewhere else after the incident with Juulet that had left a hole in the ceiling. After the siege of the Violet Enclave that sparked revolution behind the hallowed white walls of Ersand'Enise, the Zenos assured Xiuyang that such behavior would not be tolerated again. Perhaps the school truly was turning a new leaf, the staff endeavoring to show more care for the students—or maybe they only did it on her account because she showed so much promise as a Tan-Zeno candidate. Regardless of the reasoning, Xiuyang would return to life in the dorms, at least until she could complete some projects and reduce her ongoing responsibilities a bit. As much as she was grateful for the peaceful isolation and safety—and living close to Ciro—she had no time to properly enjoy it. Always, there was a new drain on her time; more was being dedicated to business, to training, to studying, to her commute—and of course, Ciro had his own business, much of it Xiuyang was privy to, but some of it that she could not be, and she accepted that. Still, she'd barely had a taste of what life with the man would be like.

Finally, she returned to Ersand'Enise, not to her old dorm room but a new one. It was the early hours of Shune when she arrived, and at her front door was a large wicker basket. Inside was a warm looking blanket. A letter was placed on top of it and unfolding it revealed a simple letter from Guy. Confused, Xiuyang took a quick look around, but he was nowhere to be found. At the end of the hall, though, was a dog she was familiar with. Penelope the Puffhound was watching over the basket, waiting for Xiuyang to receive it. How did he know I was coming back? she wondered, momentarily unsettled. She shook it off, though; this was Guy. He was indeed Perrench, and a bit nationalist, but he was also one of her closest friends in the school.

I know that things have been difficult with all that has happened and although I believe we have made some peace of it, I still wanted to send you a gift. Not because I have too many, surely not. But truly, I believe they will be wonderful companions for you. The little one reminds me of you in some ways. The large one is a doting Dragonhound and he should serve you loyally and with training might be able to be a fierce protector to whatever the world may bring you. The little one is a Virrangish Pointer that has boundless energy at times and recesses to her shell. I'm sure she will keep you plenty entertained. If you wish to return them, can you really do that? Look at her face.

Unfurling the blanket revealed 2 puppies! The large one was already the size of a piglet and had long fur of mixed browns and whites. It didn't even notice Xiuyang for it was happily dreaming. But the other dog was smaller, hidden amongst the fur of the greater pup. She was white and blond and looked at Xiuyang anxiously. She had these beautiful violet eyes that just stared back at Xiuyang. Soon she began to complain about it being too cold, shaking and letting out little distressed yelps. Startled, Xiuyang gasped and put the blanket back over her. Next to her was some more paper that was again from Guy, though this time they were just instructions on how to care for the dogs along with some good books in the library to help with training. It was surprisingly thorough. With that, Penelope the puffhound headed off, and Xiuyang was left to gather her thoughts.

Quickly, she unlocked the door to her dorm, snatched up the basket and headed inside. If the men Ciro hired to have her things moved hadn't been subtle enough to avoid Guy's notice, they had done a spectacular job arranging everything—almost everything. There was one article that she would entrust to no one but herself, and that was the mirror of swift exchange, the artifact whose intended purpose was for switching places with a partner—and while that function would surely see some use someday, she mostly used it to talk to Ciro, anywhere. For now, she mounted it above the fireplace, placed the basket in front of it, and knelt down to get one started. "Now it's a home," she remarked fondly. Then, she turned her attention back to the puppies.

Laying down on the tatami mat lazily, she slowly pulled apart the blankets with a finger. Again, the blonde craned her head to look at Xiuyang with an anxious side-eye. Xiuyang tilted her head back in reply. The girl stretched, yawning, then sniffed and licked Xiuyang's finger. It was at this moment that Xiuyang knew. She couldn't stop herself. She was about to do something she hadn't ever done in recent memory: she squealed. "You are so cute! Yesh you are," she cooed, spoiling the precious baby with belly rubs and head pats. This got the attention of the other dog, who also started begging and whining for cuddles. Tails were wagging, Xiuyang's legs were swinging in the air, and the room was full of panting and giggles and playful smooching noises.

Then, there was another noise, a voice. It was Ciro's, coming from the mirror. Xiuyang perked up upon hearing it, then she froze as she realized she'd been caught in the act. Quickly, she picked up the shy blonde puppy and rose to her feet. "Ciro! Look at this dog!" she said urgently, her cheeks flushed with poorly hidden embarrassment. "Look at her," she insisted, holding the puppy close to the mirror. Whether it was being lifted up suddenly, or Ciro's appearance in the unnatural mirror, the startled pup whined and piddled on the floor in response. Xiuyang's face froze in place. Slowly, she lifted the dog in front of it to hide her growing smile. "Sorry," she snorted, trying not to laugh.

She failed.



Itching for Trouble

For the first time in a long while that Xiuyang could remember, it was genuinely pleasant outside: partly cloudy with a strong breeze that kept the body cool. It was perhaps because of this that plenty of students were training at the Proving Grounds today. It was on days like this that Xiuyang would generally prefer to train alone somewhere else, but lately she found herself getting used to the stares, and the occasional interruption from experienced physical trainers like Mr. Secto were becoming more welcome, perhaps because she was starting to spend less time trapped inside her own head and more time focused on the task at hand.

With a controlled descent, she lowered herself to one knee, with a large rock, more of a boulder really, on her back. "Eight..." she groaned as she stood back up, her muscles teeming with chemical and binding magics to support her. "Nine..."

Other girls used to stare and judge. Girls that said things that reminded her of Raffaella, things like how her muscles were going to get big and big muscles aren't cute. Must be nice having a low enough RAS that you don't have to worry about the draft, she used to think bitterly. Now, she was a familiar enough sight that the harpies kept to themselves. A few boys ogled, but Xiuyang ignored them. Unlike the girls, they never did stop, though.

"...Ten!!" with a grunt, she hurled the rock onto the ground, and it crumbled into the dust from which it was formed. Only now was it apparent who had been hiding beneath the boulder. Xiuyang had grown her hair out and was keeping it in a ponytail during her training sessions. "Oh. I didn't see you," she greeted Roslyn, out of breath. "...Why is it that whenever you find me, I'm always struggling to breathe?" she japed, pointing it out as she wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Wiping with her thumb, Roslyn cleaned up the small trickle of blood that trailed from her busted lip. "I've noticed that too. I think the Gods have a very... weird sense of humor. Especially lately. Or I just have horrible timing."

When Roslyn spotted the sweat, she grabbed her water skin from her hip and popped it open. Her nose crinkled at the strong, slightly sour scent filling the air. She offered it with an outstretched arm. "Here, drink this. Despite the smell, it is helpful to keep up your strength. It's adapted from the recipe I once got from Messer Secto."

She added by detailing the ingredients, knowing the smell was off putting. "It's just beer vinegar, a few herbs I got from Esmii, and honey. The honey helps tame the sourness somewhat."

As Xiuyang toweled off, she eyed the pungent waterskin with instinctive skepticism. But, who was she to question a formula used by her new mentor? Perhaps she'd convinced herself it would taste like beer. It did not. "Somewhat," she allowed, hiding her face with part of her forearm. It didn't really work; they were still quite skinny. "I'm not sure the gods have a sense of humor, beyond just fucking with us." She glanced up at the sky. "How did that go, anyway?" she asked curiously, remembering how she caught a loon with Guy as part of her... initiation?

Roslyn resisted chuckling at Xiuyang's reaction. She recalled having a similar one herself, but trusted in Secto's wisdom and downed it quickly. Her hand took back the water skin and tied it back to her waist belt.

"Fair enough. I'm trying to think positivity about it." She settled down into a seat on a nearby rock as she continued. "I think it went well. Penny and I figured out a message made by butterfly wings. It would've been easier with quill and parchment, but we managed and followed the instructions. They departed, leaving us both glowing." Roslyn smirked at the memory.

"What about you?"

"Huh. ...Me and Guy chased a duck underwater. Or was it a goose..." she pondered, shaking her head vigorously as she remembered that thing. "Caught it, too," she added proudly. "...I should get back to training," she sighed, standing up and stretching her arms above her head.

Upon hearing Xiuyang's task, Roslyn looked taken aback. It seemed that Penny and her had the easier one compared to chasing a duck. "Now I know who to ask when I need to catch a bird." "Yeah. Ask Guy. I made him do all the work," Xiuyang snickered, only half-joking. She watched her friend rise to her feet. Pressing her lips, Roslyn finally forced out the question on her tongue. "Do you need a partner?" It sounded better in her head than out loud causing her to add. "I mean, only if you want to." She was already getting up, ready to spar or walk away depending on her friend's answer.

At Roslyn's sudden question, she blinked, confused. Do I look like I'm hurting for options, here? she thought, looking around at the other students sparring. Then, a glimmer of understanding appeared in her eyes. Oh, she's asking me. "Uh, sure. I'm up for it, but I'm not training for next year's Trials, you know? I'm training for real. I won't play around."

Roslyn nodded."To be honest, I don't think the Trials will be the same after the last one." She bit her lip, thinking of the reason she was here originally. "Anyways, with everything that's happened I am not either. I nearly died trying to get past the golem and mercenaries." She clenched her jaw at the memory. "And I doubt it will be the last."

"I still think the mercenaries are in contention for the most fucked-up part of that whole thing, even though they were the easiest enemies. You don't hire people to fight kids, and if you do, you certainly don't hire people of their ilk." Xiuyang shook her head in disgust. "I spared as many of them as I could, but I've been wondering lately if that was a mistake."

She finished her stretch, an annoyed look on her face, and while her memory of that night's events was certainly part of it, there was something else bothering her. Does she think we're on the same level? She thought back to her performance during Mano e Mano, where she was always overshadowed by her partner in each round, if not eliminated instantly. She thought back to how Mathijs completely disrespected her, and how she admitted during the Tan-Zeno interview that she was behind on her studies. Most of all, she thought back to the time she had to be rescued from Yarsoc. Of course. Who wouldn't think you were worthless in a fight? She tried to think back to a time that she'd made a decent showing, but until recently, she'd made it a point to never draw attention to her RAS.

"I agree with you. But I blame the administration more than the mercenaries. They were only doing as they were told, even if it was heartless." Roslyn began as she noticed the change in Xiuyang's voice, but she said nothing. "I did my best to avoid killing anyone, but I failed. I caused some man's head to pop."

"Some of the worst atrocities in history were 'just orders,' Rose. Take it from a Solari: if you're going to take up dirty work, you have to be prepared to die for it, without notice from the gods or a shot at redemption. Fair or not, those are the stakes you accept when you go against the current. They deserved less." She smiled as she brought her staff to her hand with a swish of kinetic magic.

Forcing a bit of warmth in her tone, Roslyn added. "Sooo... you ready or do you need to warm up first?" "Nope!" She forced a smile as she turned to move into a more open space. "Grace round or something?" she asked, her voice full of unusual cheer. Moving to face her partner, she stretched a bit to keep her muscles loose before she answered. "Grace round, I'm going to need it to keep up." "Soo, how much 'stuff' you wanna use? Bring anything?" She twirled the staff a bit. Drinking in the question, Roslyn's fingers rotated the tarnished ring on her hand before dropping her arm to her side. "Give me a moment to get my cannon."

She turned about and strolled back to her bag hidden near a crumbling wall. Crouching down, she flipped open the top and reached in to retrieve the smoking bandit and a skin glue tub. Roslyn bit down to pull out the cork before pouring it in. Upon return, she spoke. "I have only the smoking bandit with two shots and the ring. So how about two items each?"

"Two?" she replied, somewhat incredulously. She stood, with no less than five on her person, for an amount of time that bordered on awkward. It was impossible not to feel just a little shame as she removed her boots, her guns, and... Fuck this, she decided, tossing the Second Chancers to Roslyn. "Borrow these. You were part of the magusjaeger's thing, right? Show me what you can do."

Roslyn hid her embarrassment at Xiuyang's response. Her collection of magic items, defensive and not, was small compared to others. Especially given the fact she lacked the funds to increase it. Her fingers curled a rogue strand of hair about her ear and shrugged, trying to fill in the awkward silence. "Well, four in total. Compass isn't useful in battle and I forgot the club. I'm not even sure how it really works."

Xiuyang's reaction made her painfully aware how small her collection was compared to others. She didn't have the funds to expand it since most of it went to her family. Distracted by her thoughts, Roslyn nearly missed catching the Second Chancers. She looked over the pretty pair of pistols before nodding. "Yeah, my Zeno's teaching assistant runs the club. I'll make sure to clean them after we're done."

She immediately drew in the sunlight and casted a buff to speed herself up. A simple kinetic spell to enhance her speed.

"You had to know this was coming," Xiuyang said as she split off into four separate Xiuyangs.



Roslyn inhaled as she eyed up each doppleganger quickly. "Well, you did warn me you weren't holding back." She raised her hand cannon and took a shot at who she thought was the real Xiuyang.

An overly ambitious attempt to neutralize the glue with binding and chemical ended with one false Xiuyang revealed and the true Xiuyang soaked in a small amount of glue, most of it being deflected by an impromptu spin attack with her staff. "Hah! Good, good! I hate it when I have to wait for the final round for things to get interesting!"

"I can be full of surprises when motivated. Besides, why choose one, when I can hit you all?" Roslyn smirked then jumped back, narrowly avoid being clipped by the staff's edge. It was then she noticed it. One of the Xiuyang were covered in glue.There you are. Drawing in energy, she cast Light of Ahn-Shune. A sudden burst of light erupted in front of the target then she took a shot from one of the second chancers.

The gunshot was a distraction, swiftly followed by an attempted gaze of sloth. Xiuyang quickly made to resist with chemical and binding.

Roslyn's heart stopped a bit when her spell hit her target. She didn't expect it to work. A small breath exhaled when Xiuyang managed to block it. By now, the other doppelganger had gotten free and rushed in to join the others. She aimed at the nearest one with the gun—and with that, the last false Xiuyang was revealed, leaving the real one to retaliate with a physical attack using her gourd, of all things.

Xiuyang, confident in her approach, was rebuffed with Arcane fire, with more force than she expected. Alarmingly, her beanie was also showing her not one, but two Roslyns. "W-What?! How did you do that?!" she demanded. All the while, the luminescent ring of their arena was shrinking in size.

"If you win, I'll tell you." Roslyn said, a little surprised herself. It shouldn't have worked. She had only been practicing temporal a few days, but it felt familiar. Like she had done it before... She pushed away the thoughts and drew one of the guns. Her eyes lined Xiuyang up and pulled the trigger, aiming for the body.

Xiuyang foresaw the failure of her Arcane and Kinetic attack, ending with her flung from the arena completely. In response, she changed tactics to her own Arcane and Temporal. Now, she saw multiple of herself attacking Roslyn through the beanie, and moved to secure her best outcome.

Then, suddenly, something strange happened. A butterfly passed by Xiuyang's view, and suddenly, she was back where she was a moment ago. Impossible! She can do that too?! Xiuyang was becoming disoriented with everything going on, between the beanie, the Temporal magic used by them both, and now butterflies that could rewind time.

Xiuyang repeated her action, this time with even more resolve, and managed not to stumble. With Roslyn's Temporal attack deflected with one of her own, Xiuyang took the opportunity to strengthen her muscles with Binding. "Seems we're both hiding some new tricks," she remarked.

Xiuyang leapt at Roslyn, aiming to attack with her gourd once again. It was an odd choice, when her staff had far more range. It might have seemed to Roslyn like Xiuyang was messing around, but then it hit her—despite the kinetic rock shield—and Roslyn could feel her manas drop as the gourd softly glowed red, even as the circle was still closing in on the two of them. There was hardly anywhere to run now. However, as Roslyn just managed to avoid being knocked out of the ring, the Second Chancers were also starting to glow a bright blue.

Wiping the trickle of red from her lip, Roslyn inhaled. Her eyes glanced back. The circle drew nearer as she gritted her teeth. Doubt, sensing blood and weakness, began to crawl over her confidence. She couldn't waste time healing now as she used her chemical magic to attack.

A valiant effort from a weakened Roslyn was countered by a simple Arcane blast from Xiuyang. "Come on..." she panted. "You can't get gassed out in the first match." She took a chug from her gourd, as the ring kept closing in.

Roslyn frowned as her spell was easily pushed away. She felt her ring's warmth on her finger, its magic not enough. Her friend's words felt like a taunt and a spark of anger snaked its way into her chest. "It's not over until its over. You might be in better shape... but you're not untouched either."

"A lot of effort for a little scratch," she parried, coming in again, this time harder with a kinetically-charged gourd attack.

Roslyn didn't expect Xiuyang's retort. As the woman charged in, her gourd spinning, the Hendlish girl jerked out her smoking bandit. She pulled the trigger causing the adhesive to spew out. It caught the scarred girl, but not before the gourd slammed into the underside of Roslyn's jaw. The pain erupted in her head, the impact sending her backwards. It flung her out of the ring as she came to skidding to a stop onto her side.

Ultimately, the match ended with Roslyn stuck to the floor, flung far outside the ever-shrinking ring. "First one goes to me," Xiuyang declared, healing herself and Roslyn and freeing the latter from the glue. "It's best of Five where I come from, if you want to keep going."

"Yeah, but give me a moment. I need to see if I have ammo for the smoking bandit." Roslyn said as she pushed herself onto her feet. As she rummaged through it, she placed a small clay jar to the side and continued. Slowly, she realized there wasn't any skin glue. "Uhh, where is it? I thought Niallus gave me another." She groaned. Dropping her bag, she turned to her friend. "You wouldn't have any skinglue on you, would you? I think I used the last of mine today."

Just then a younger student jogged into the Proving Grounds with a small wooden box and approached Roslyn. "A... guy... paid me 10 Magus to hand this to you. I don't know what's inside." Then before she could give much of a response, he had made his exit leaving her with the box. Opening the box, a letter sat on top:

'Listen, Roslyn. I got a lot of money riding on you winning this thing. You better not be running outta items just yet. Inside this box you'll find enough skinglue to last you the fight and all the ammo you'll need. Just hidden beneath all that, you'll find a strong paralytic poison as well. Just in case you were inclined to mix it in the other girl's drink. You know, to improve your odds. I could be inclined to share 10% of my winnings.'

Roslyn blinked and stared. Who would bet on ME of all people?, she turned to the boy who started to trot away. Her arm jerked out to stop him, but he slipped past and disappeared around a pillar. With a heavy sigh, she pulled the box closer and lifted the lid. She flipped open the letter to read it. Her eyes shifted from the words to the contents, noting the blackened glass vial. Paralytic poison.

Xiuyang's words repeated in her head. Would it make it easier? Realizing what she was considering, Roslyn pushed the thought away. She shoved the vial underneath the letter and took out the skinglue. She drew in energy and snapped the handcannon and pistols to her hands.

While reloading both, she forced a smile and looked at her friend. "Welp, looks like someone's being generous. Not sure who, but it would be a shame to disappoint them." She pulled onto her feet and stretched again. Her joints gave a soft, subtle pop. "Another secret admirer?" Xiuyang teased as she twirled her staff impatiently, like one might spin a pen. Roslyn shrugged, "Maybe, not sure really. It feels a bit weird to me. Of course, if you're not okay with me having more ammo... I can either go without the weapon or we can drop down to two items each to keep it even. It's your choice." Xiuyang pursed her lips. Isn't this outside interference? Well, I'll look lame if I complain about it, so. she shrugged. "So do we get a grace period for this round too?" "Sure? Go for it. Don't save your best material for the last round. Your enemies sure won't." She stood ready to take advantage of the grace period. This time, though, the arena was shrinking down from its starting size while they prepared.

Roslyn inhaled and focused inwardly. The familiar tingle of her binding rushed down her skin and sank into her bones, gradually it faded. Her body felt reimbursed with energy as she drew out her hand cannon. She knew she needed to get more serious this time or there was no way she was winning this. "Ready, it is your turn."

"Turn..." Xiuyang muttered under her breath. She had already begun to conjure illusions, but as Roslyn spoke, Xiuyang foresaw her spell failing. She tried again, this time invoking Temporal. All around her, Xiuyang could see no less than three different Xiuyangs trying to conjure six more illusory Xiuyangs. Xiuyang was seeing more of herself than she ever wanted to. However, no matter how many timelines she used the beanie to search, all of her attempts failed. F-Fuck. The three copies she had actually managed to partially manifest dissolved in front of Roslyn's eyes, leaving only the original standing there, covering her mouth, appearing sick.

Roslyn tried to track the real Xiuyang when the itching started. Uttering a curse, her hand rolled up her left sleeve then she scratched at the nook of her elbow. Why now? Her eyes looked up to see a very green looking Xiuyang standing there.

"Hey, uh... are you okay? You don't look so good." She stepped closer.

"I'm... fine!" she replied angrily, staggering. "I'm just..! I'll just..."

And then, she collapsed.

"Xiuyang... No!" Roslyn's eyes widened.

Everything happened in a blur. Adrenaline raced in her veins and settled in her head. She rushed forward. Her right arm snapped out and her bag thumped into her hand. Knees hit the ground and skidded. Xiuyang's form fell into her lap, spared from hitting the ground. She dug into her bag for anything. WHERE WAS IT!?!? Her brain screamed at not having found the snow pepper powder.

Roslyn changed tactics. Her fingers checked for a pulse. A frantic, rapid one. Focus... focus, she forced herself to take a breath. Eyes snapped onto the beanie. She ripped it off and tossed it away. What was going on? "Xiuyang, please. No... fuck, what's wrong? Come on. This isn't funny, please just wake up. Please!" Her voice cracked against her will. She started to shake and a blurriness settled in her vision. A hand was placed on her friend's chest and she tried to sense the issues with binding.

Nothing.




Xiuyang walked solemnly down the opulent white halls, accompanied by a familiar maid. Though she could feel the warmth of the Torragon sun on her face through the windows, her blood ran cold as a memory she couldn't quite place played out in her mind. There, beyond that old redwood door, in that bed waiting for her, was Ciro. There he was, deathly ill of some horrible malady that no binder could name—but it was not supposed to be Ciro in that bed. Xiuyang remembered this scene. She used to know this person. What was their name? What did they look like?

Now, she couldn't remember.

She reached out to him, intertwining her fingers with his. His hand was cold; he was already dead. She reminded herself that this wasn't real—no, it was real, but it was not Ciro in that bed. That was impossible. This scene was familiar, but this was not a real event. This was not happening to Ciro.

This is a hospital bed, she recalled.

This can happen to anyone, she remembered.

This was a dream. It had to be. Yet, the tears fell down her face. Who was this person? She loved this person.

Why couldn't she remember?

Again, she ran out of the room, into the restroom to cry. Another familiar scene—but the face that met her in the mirror was not hers, but her father's. She'd poured so much into the family business—how could he betray her, toy with her like this?! Her emotions threatened to boil over. They made her feel sick—but she forced herself to keep them down. Yet, she couldn't do nothing. She had to get back at him, somehow—but he was too powerful. Just like every other notable mage she knew, infuriatingly out of her league.

Just as she was fighting the urge to throw a punch at the mirror, the image of her father reached through it and grabbed her by the neck. Now, she was in another familiar scene: the streets of Mudville, on the night she'd had her drinks with Hill's Pond. The night she was "kidnapped" by... there she was, standing just over there. Juulet.

She stalked forward, her eyes wide in that filthy, aberrative way. Xiuyang struggled, unable to break free of her father's grip. As she met Juulet's eyes, accepting her fate, she realized something: Juulet wasn't looking at her. She was looking at him.

Dad, let go of me! She struggled to break free, but couldn't.

Juulet hopped closer, in that ridiculous yet terrifying way.

Dad, I'm begging you... please turn around! She tried to speak, but no sound escaped her mouth.

She was less than an arm's length away now. No! This wasn't happening. This couldn't be allowed to happen! Despite everything..!

Dad, I love you..!



Xiuyang jerked awake, covering her mouth as she again fought the urge to vomit. Her head was pounding horribly, and her sweat felt absolutely frigid. It was then that she finally remembered: she'd never lost someone she loved to illness before—but she'd seen others suffer through that very scene so many times, the fear always lurked in the back of her mind that someday, it would be her.

Slowly, the intense pain faded, and she realized that her beanie had been removed. Either Roslyn had realized what was happening and removed it, or it had come off when she fell. "Mnn... Round two is so not happening..." she sighed, laying an arm across her forehead. "I, am never, doing that again. Holy fuck, that sucked."

The moment Xiuyang moved, Roslyn pulled back her hand. Relief washed over the brunette's face causing her to exhale. Thank Eshiran, she was okay. "I agree, and what happened? You cast some weird magic and collapsed." Roslyn made her voice steady, but the panic refused to be suppressed. She didn't realize she had a small trickle of tears running down her cheeks.

Xiuyang reached around blindly until she found her missing beanie, but she didn't put it back on just yet. "I can see into the future. Just about ten seconds' worth..." she explained while she caught her breath. "That was hard to get used to at first, but I got the hang of it, so I tried to see multiple different futures. Pushed it too far."

Her vision was starting to return to her, and she caught Roslyn crying. She had tears too—perhaps from the pain, perhaps from the dream—though, she had wiped them away. "Stop that," she scolded, grinning as she reached up and wiped them away with her crumpled-up beanie.

"I-I can't. You scared me. I thought you were sick and..." Roslyn swallowed. She fought to slow her heart, ignoring the strain of it. A weak, forceful laugh escaped her lips. "I'm glad you're okay."

Xiuyang slumped back down to the floor, contemplating. She'd told the High Zeno of her ambitions, but did anyone else really know? Aside from Ashon... probably not. It served as yet another reminder of how she had kept her fellow students at arms' length—and now, war was closing in, and it might be too late for proper friendships. For once, the thought made her a bit sad. "I've watched people die of diseases with no cure. It's what motivated me to pick the binding school, really. Well, that, and not wanting to go to school at first, but that's a secret." She smiled. "Sorry for getting carried away. If I'm going to pass the Tan-Zeno Exam, I need to push myself, and learn to push others. I was... putting on airs a bit, there. ...We can call this one a draw." She averted her eyes. Roslyn. resisted the urge to hug her friend. It would only embarrass her and she didn't want that. "I say we call it a day here, and just rest. Are you sure nothing else feels off?" "My hips feel a bit light," she japed. "I've been carrying those guns everywhere ever since... you know."

Roslyn listened and wondered how much she should say. Deep down she knew after the symptoms started, her time here would be over and everyone would forget her. Any type of impressions didn't matter in the end. She was nothing, but a low born baroness from an unimportant nation. The idea, scary as it was, felt unavoidable. She leaned against a chunk of pillar and twisted her ring on her finger. It surprisingly calmed her whenever she was upset. "I know the feeling of dread and waiting on something to repeat, but never had that feeling of relief. I just try to ignore it. Eventually, I won't be able to."

After spending a few minutes on the floor, Xiuyang did a kip-up, landing on her feet to definitively show that she was okay. Then, she walked over to where Roslyn was resting. "What's that about?" she asked, out of habit. For a moment, she pondered if she was being too nosy, and if she should give Roslyn an out to not talk about it. "And when did you get engaged?" she added, teasingly reaching for Roslyn's ring.

"It's not an engagement ring. I got it from the trials, alongside that compass, and it has been pretty handy. It seems to steal luck from my opponent, then transfer it to me. Been saving my ass a few times during the attacks. " Roslyn pulled off her ring and offered it to Xiuyang to study.

"So that's why I felt off my game today," she replied as she inspected the ring. She even put it on and tried using it, directing it at other students who were training. "Doesn't seem to work for me. Maybe it's just your lucky ring. Like my 'lucky' guns." She smiled playfully as she returned the ring to Roslyn, and the guns to herself. "Only works when my opponent does something. It's only one of two new tricks I have." Roslyn commented, smiling at the mention of luck. It felt like something she lacked. "Definitely lucky then," Xiuyang decided, grinning.

It was hard to know for sure how her friend might take what she was about to say. Anyone in their village that knew about the curse kept her at an arm's length. Roslyn didn't blame them for it. It was painful to become attached to someone who might die prematurely.

"A family curse."

Xiuyang scratched her chin. "So, it's passed down?" She looked Roslyn up and down, noting that she looked healthy. "Me and Trypano both have theories about that sort of thing. I don't like the idea that the gods just punish people for being born and nothing can be done. There must be a mechanism of cure, but the execution is out of our reach... for now," she allowed. "That's why I need to become a Zeno. I'm sure the information I need is somewhere only they can get to it." She didn't ask about the mechanism of the curse. It was Roslyn's right to not speak of it, if she wanted to. Her dignity was worth more than Xiuyang's curiosity.

Her eyes shifted back to Xiuyang. "Trypano... I remember her. She offered to help me with funds for the ship, materials, and my brother. However, I am not sure I trust her now. She gave me an item that could've gotten me into a lot of trouble if the wrong people discovered it."

Xiuyang could only offer a shrug at Trypano's behavior. "That's just how she is. It's like... if she doesn't think she should get in trouble for something, it's not her problem. As long as she accomplishes her goal in the end, the opinions of others don't matter. She holds herself as the ultimate ethical authority. It's a very black-and-white way of thinking. ...It is going to land her in hot water someday," she admitted. "I don't really think she's trying to 'use you' while disregarding your safety. She's a go-getter, and I think the very concept of anyone else thinking differently is genuinely weird to her."

"Yeah, just glad that Tku discovered the issue rather than someone else. I have enough to deal with and I don't need more trouble." Roslyn's hand began to rub her arm, recalling the blood Trypano took. She knew it was stupid, but she took a risk. She hoped nothing would come from it.

Roslyn took a breath as she continued. "Yes, it's passed down. Would sharing what I know, help in your research?" "...Maybe. The best thing would be to meet a family member who's presenting symptoms. I don't have to worry about catching anything," she said confidently, though she wouldn't explain why.

Roslyn looked hard at Xiuyang then stuck out her tongue. "Well, as far as I know it's not contagious. And, I am planning on going home some time this month. The trip's been delayed long enough because of everything that's happened. You could tag along? Garith, my brother, has symptoms. I might need the help to convince him to be looked at again."

Xiuyang gave Roslyn an odd look, amused. "I didn't say you were contagious. Unless, there are symptoms you want to talk about? Heart palpitations, sweaty palms, itchy ankles..." she teased. "I've got multiple projects going on this month, but I'll try to make time for it." She paused. It sounded more uncaring than it did in her head. "I just take my promises seriously, that's all. I'll let you know when I've worked something out."

"I mean the mark I have does itch occasionally. Other than that, nothing like my brother's. Mano e Mano was a pain. It took a lot of will power and chemical not to peel off my skin." Roslyn frowned a bit, considering something. "It also itched earlier when you used your beanie and then collapsed."



"Mark?" Xiuyang replied curiously. Her confidence seemed to wane somewhat. "...Would you show it to me? Uh, not here, obviously."

"Yeah, all my family on my mother's side has it. As far as I know, they are all... gone save for my brother and me." Roslyn struggled a bit to get the words out. She had been about to roll up her sleeve, when Xiuyang's words stopped her. "It's on the elbow, if you're worried about modesty. It's been on display at least once or twice when someone tried to scorch my clothes."

Xiuyang frowned. This was quickly becoming a more serious affair than she'd expected. "I'm... so sorry. I can't imagine..." The truth, however, was that she could, and often did, imagine Juulet coming for her family. "N-No, please cover it. Sorry. It's just... the Perrench have accused me of being a blood mage. I'm sure you can imagine how it might look. We just fought and all." She averted her gaze.

Roslyn wasn't sure what to say at the moment. She bit her lip and then leaned into Xiuyang slowly. Once she was sure the woman wasn't going to flinch, she gave her a genuine hug. "Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. Even if you were accused, I can prove otherwise." She took a breath to brace herself, adding a hint of mirth to her tone. "I have had this since birth. Besides, only the Great Hugo was rumored to be able to cast magic before he could speak. At least according to the stories of him."

Xiuyang returned the gesture, putting her arms around Roslyn. "Thanks... but the truth doesn't matter to those people. Convenient rumors and half-truths always suited them better." Catching the eyes of some such students, Xiuyang just smirked at them. It felt good to be able to walk freely around campus again, but it felt even better to be just a little smug about it. "Come on, we're hogging the arena. Let's go get drinks. My treat."

"You're right. However, I count this as a win. I don't think I'll get one officially otherwise. You're hard to beat." Roslyn's grin widened. She pulled back and followed Xiuyang onto her feet, grabbing her bag from beside her. Thoughtfully, she added. "But seriously, Xiuyang. If you can't come with me, don't worry about it. You're one of my closest friends and I'm grateful for that." She waited for her friend to lead the way.

"What?! Are you kidding?" she replied incredulously. "You want a real win, come back tomorrow! I'll train with you anytime." She slung her bag over her shoulder. "By the way... last one there buys drinks next time!" she blurted out, laughing as she took off running.

She didn't comment again on her brother for the time being. More than anything, she wanted the both of them to escape this melancholic mood. Thanks, Roslyn, she thought, but didn't say. She hoped it would still be true next year.
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Event: White Thresher | Location: Zengali



Ayla spotted Leon hurriedly emerging from the vendor's stall, clutching a mysterious box. Intrigued, she made her way over and noticed both Penny and Taleja holding similar items. Waving toward Penny, she approached the pair with curiosity. "Hola, soy Ayla. What are these things we've bought?" She nosily examined the decorative illustrations adorning each box, each seeming to tell a unique story. One in particular caught her eye: a woman with flared eyebrows and a colourful dress. "By Ipte, she looks beautiful, doesn't she?" Ayla smiled widely as she picked up one of the boxes, then turned to address Fanaka. "How much are these story boxes you're selling? We'd like to make a purchase."

Fananka was an educated man, educated enough to spot said Ayla Arslan, Closest friend of Maura Mercador and co-owner of the Arslan-Mercador trade company. He placed a hand over his chest and did a small bow to Ayla, "Saludos, soy Fanaka, un humilde mercador del Mar de Ensolian." his Torrogonese and manners were relatively good towards Ayla. He glanced at the box before thanking the gods she didn't want to continue in her native tongue, a man can only know so many languages. "Her beauty is something quite to behold and in a distant land she is the aspiration for many young women. For a small sum of 5 magus, I would happily hand it over to another woman blessed by Ipte." Fanaka only smiled.

Ayla curtsied before Fanaka, "Muchas gracias." She reached for her coin purse and extracted five magus coins, paying the merchant what was due before accepting her new box. Like the others, she followed suit and opened it to inspect the contents.

Ayla opens up the container and is met with a most wonderful scene. High quality makeup. Vibrancy unheard of outside things freshly made. Tools for applying that she had never seen. At the bottom was a booklet that described what they were along with some makeup theory on how to make people bow to you in avincian. The makeup had names and labels written in a language Ayla was not familiar with. The last words in the booklet are,

"A woman needs no force or words when men drop to their knees to just see them."




Ayla headed to the archery range where a young man was preparing various explosive mixes and cannonballs, hard at work perfecting his formulas for the upcoming hunt.

“It’s just not good enough,” Kitwana said, frustration evident in his voice. The gunpowder burned too slowly, failing to produce the desired blast. He had to use what they had and work with the deflagration properties to achieve the outcome the Marquis desired.

Ayla waved as she approached. Kitwana looked up briefly before returning to his work. “I said I’ll get the new prototype finished in a couple of hours,” he said exasperatedly, then sat down. “Do you happen to be an alchemist or know about explosives?” Ayla shook her head. “They are not my speciality, but we know a lot about combustion.” Kitwana gave a wry smile. “Good enough, I suppose.”

Ayla sat next to him. “We find that leaving a problem and coming back with fresh eyes helps.” Kitwana looked at her, took a sip from his water flask, and pondered for a moment. “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

They spoke for a while, and Kitwana shared his background. He was the son of a miner; his family worked in the mines or in positions supporting them. They had struggled with cheap imports from the great alliances, but the Marquis, a cautious man, didn’t want to fully rely on imports. Kitwana had always been fascinated with gunpowder and explosions, dreaming as a child of making the biggest boom possible. As he grew older, he focused on making mining safer and more effective by finding an alternative explosive to gunpowder. He had found a successful candidate, which attracted the Marquis’s attention. Now, he was tasked with creating an explosive shot for the hunt. However, his compound couldn’t be produced in significant quantities, so he had to rely on available resources. He had no interest in military matters or using his work to blow up a creature, but he couldn’t refuse the Marquis, especially since his research was funded and his family relied on his support.

“And now I need to deliver, but it’s not good enough. Gunpowder burns too slow for the punch needed,” Kitwana sighed. “If I tweak the mixture, it becomes too unstable, and the last thing we want is them exploding on the ship.” He sighed, clearly in a predicament. Ayla hadn’t a clue about exploding cannonballs, but she thought Kitwana might appreciate a different perspective. “We might not be able to help much, but what if, instead of trying to do everything with one thing, we break it up?” She considered an example. “When you use coldfire, the initial spell sets things alight, and then the fire causes the damage. Maybe you can put some gas in the cannonball to ignite the gunpowder, letting the gunpowder do the exploding.” Kitwana laughed. “Gas is too unstable; it could leak and sink the fleet.” He considered her words and examined the theory. “So, instead of using one mixture, we use two. We create a secondary chamber.” He took a quill and put the idea to parchment. “With these explosive cannonballs, when fired from the cannon, the initial spark sets the fuse. They’re timed, so when the fuse hits the powder, they erupt.” He drew a smaller circle within the ball. “But if we do a second chamber, the gunpowder will ignite this, and I can use my compound to detonate the cannonball, causing the rest of the gunpowder to erupt together, creating a bigger explosion. Only a small amount is needed, so we might produce enough for the hunt tomorrow.” He stood up from the bench and started perfecting the idea. “The second chamber will be more secure, less likely to cause an accident. Perfect, this is the solution I needed.” He smiled widely and grabbed Ayla’s hands. “Thank you, you saved my neck on this one.” He hurried to put things into place.

“Oh, before I forget, I never asked why you were here…?” He looked at Ayla curiously. Ayla sheepishly held out the bronze pass given by the Marquis. “We heard about the explosive balls. We thought it would be easier to drop them from my dragon than to fire them from a cannon.” Kitwana rubbed his chin. “Your idea has merit. If you time it right, you should be able to use them far more accurately.” He made a note on a slip of parchment and handed it to Ayla. “I’m busy and have a lot of work to do, but as a thank you for your help, I’ll make sure to provide you with what can be spared.” He smiled widely and shook her hand. “Best of luck with the beast tomorrow.”





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Event: Ransom Demand - Chapter 1 & 2| Location: Belleville


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 grew somewhat bored as she found herself relegated to waiting at the back, her presence seemingly startling a little girl who promptly fled at the sight of her face. Puzzled by the reaction, Oksana pondered whether her appearance was truly intimidating, though she conceded that her distinctive face markings might be unusual for the locals. To occupy herself, she decided to while away the time by sculpting a miniature elk out of ice along the short wall at the rear. As she worked, she noticed another figure inside the house, but her attention was soon diverted when the little girl reappeared. Offering a friendly wave in an attempt to reassure her, Oksana returned to her sculpting, focusing on the delicate details of her creation.

Around back, however, Oksana's efforts - aside from frostburning the shrubbery, began to bear fruit. The child smiled back but didn't wave, glancing warily over her shoulder into an area of the house that Oksana couldn't see. She continued sitting on one of those puffy yasoi-style teacup chairs, glancing over every once in a while and occasionally saying something in rapid Mycormish.

Finally, the girl grinned and sprung off the couch. She was small and blonde a bit on the chubby side. She scampered over to the rear door and drew a little sad face into the frost that now coated the window. She opened the door just a peep. "Don't come closer, 'cause I don't know if you're bad or not," she warned. "I'll scream if you do." Still, she was clearly curious.

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?"

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.

"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!" Malo! Away from there! They're bad! They're working with the 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?" Mom, what's wrong?

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." Malo precious, the Colas paid these yaniis. I think they want our money and I think they will try to hurt your father and uncle.

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." Be brave, little one. Mama will distract the bad woman. You run to our safe place. I'll meet you in a few minutes.

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."

Somewhat ironically, Oksana's words fell upon deaf ears. A mother had seen people come to her door with honeyed words, her brother-in-law's severed finger, and then threats. She had seen another sneak in from the side, in the direction of the neighbour's house. Finally, to her horror, one - a 'nonthreatening' woman - had slipped around back and was tempting her daughter into opening the door! "You get away my child!" she screamed, "Cola bitch!!!" She was not so much of a mage, but she had raw power in the Gift. She burst out the rear door behind a massive wave of kinetic force.

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 [colour=dcf3ff]""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.

Oksana, meanwhile, was dealing with a somewhat different sort of threat. 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.

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.

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.

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.




Oksana heard everything being said, or appeared too as she nodded her head. She turned to look in Niallius’s direction, as she tilted her head to the side, encouraging him to speak up.

"Oksana, my friend? They are the bait, we come up from outside and ambush?" He turned to her when speaking. "Does this work for you?"

Oksana gave him a thumbs up and rested her hand on her sword hilt. She wondered about Abdel and Niallius in the plan, though the former being tethered spoke for itself. As for Eskandr, she considered, “He go in the rear this time?”

Niallus nodded to Oksana, "I'll be ok with that." Looking to the others of the group "You guys should be ok, especially when we get the other group here." he trailed off as he sensed something odd.

Oksana saw it as an opportunity to expand their plan with an arrival of an insider. “Why not let her show you in the back door?” she asked Niallius, as she gestured toward the redhead that had arrived and spoke frantically with them.

Their plan accelerated when Xiuyang blasted open the doorway.

With Abdel and Johann occupied, she followed Niallus's lead and headed toward the roof of the building. Her intention was to make her own entrance, but she halted when she noticed the vent being slammed shut, with the red-head closing it behind him. Sensing the arcane energy, she recognized that the red-head spelled trouble, and not the kind she welcomed. Turning her attention towards her, she watched carefully to see what her next move would be as she drew her blade.

Lunara slowly stood up, and glanced round to see what was happening, she noticed Oksana was on the roof, but she could see someone with her, but they didn't look like anyone from the other group. Lunara decided she would head up there she as had a bad feeling and didn't want Oksana to be alone. "Miray this way."

She sprinted to a ladder that led to the roof, placed Miray over her shoulders and Made her way up towards the roof. When she reached the roof she made her way to Oksana, however she was weary of the strange woman in front of her. Miray then jumped off her shoulders.

Lunara glanced at Oksana, she then glanced back at the woman in front of them. Lunara then glared at the woman when she noticed that she couldn't see Niallus, she shouted. "What did you do to Niallus bitch, where is he?" Lunara's chakrams began to charge and move around the two of them, Miray also started to hiss, when she noticed her owner getting angry.

There was a fiery blast coming straight for her, but Lunara was too busy posturing and speaking to manage much more than a reflexive half-dodge. The attack sliced through her defenses, burning and scalding her, and she staggered back, her clothes on fire. A quick blast of howling cold from Oksana's direction put it out before it could do worse, but a message had been clearly sent: less talking, more *doing*.

"Why don't you jump in there and find out?" the yasoi mocked in belated response, arching an eyebrow. "Or if the little taste you got was a bit much, you can send your cat ahead to scout for you."

Oksana unleashed a frigid torrent towards Lunara, as the girl was caught off-guard by Cherii’s fireball. Whilst While those two were locked in a battle of words, a presence lingered at the edge of Oksana's awareness. She evaded the sudden thrust of a rapier by a hair’s breath, as the illusionary figure faded before her eyes.

Now on the roof stood another figure, a male Yasoi known as Arsii to others. He executed a graceful flourish as he drew his rapier, assuming a poised stance with a smirk playing on his lips, betraying his eagerness for the challenge as he spoke those unheard words.

Wordlessly, Oksana had drawn her blade and lunged forward, her katana slicing through the air as Arsii had danced aside with a fluid, blurred motion. His movements had been graceful, akin to a leaf dancing on the wind. He had countered with a series of quick thrusts towards her, illusion magic creating the appearance of multiple blades, forcing her to draw back.

Undeterred, Oksana had flicked her wrist, coating the ground beneath them with a thin layer of frost. Arsii's footing had faltered for a moment, and she had seized the opportunity, closing the distance between them with determination.

As she had approached, Arsii's illusions had danced around them, twisting and distorting reality in an attempt to disorient her. His smirking expression had seemed to surround her as the illusionary rapiers had feinted towards her. However, she had remained focused, her senses honed by her time in the Vossoriyan wild.

With a swift movement, Arsii had plunged his poison-coated rapier into her shoulder, claiming victory with his smile. In response, Oksana had grabbed the rapier and encased it in a sheath of ice. He had staggered back, surprise evident as he had struggled to free his weapon. Seizing that moment of weakness, she had slashed with her blade, shattering the Yasoi's sword in two.

Pulling the blade free, with the poison now frozen, she had cast it aside where it had clattered to the ground. Using her binding magic, she had patched up the wound, then pressed her weapon against his neck, his defeat evident as he had gazed at her. "Stand down," she had called out loud enough for Cherii to hear, signalling her desire for the fighting to cease.

"Why would I not?" the swordsman replied, eyes flicking toward her shoulder. "Go and sense down below. Your people have taken their target, all without paying for him and are now trying to murder our people. I've nothing to do but run if you'd be so kind."

Oksana did not object to this course of action and lowered her blade accordingly.

Cherii, meanwhile, was too busy to stand down. Lunara appeared to be just a hair shy of a murderous rage and it was all that the sneaky yasoi could do to dodge her unschooled but very powerful attacks.

Having been bested but not slain, Arsii knew that he was beaten and, at this point, escape was his only real option. He nodded in respect. "Thank you, and thank you for a good duel." He flicked a small salute her way and backed up a couple of steps. "You should see a binder for that poison, though. Even the cold can only hold back so long." With that, he turned and made his escape.

Cherii was not so fortunate. Somehow, through a varied illusion with eight different versions of her rapidly tumbling and eight different goma cats attacking, through the chaos, and in split seconds, Lunara had picked out the genuine Cherii and managed to alter the edge of the rooftop to stop her escape.

Meanwhile, Oksana was hard at work on binding the poison away. Her quick thinking and cryogenic magic had halted its freeze but, now, some had slipped through. She began to feel woozy and took a knee rather roughly, world starting to sway and spin. A couple of deep breaths steadied her. She had been through worse, but this was also a display that Lunara could not help but have missed. Two binders would be better than one…

Lunara noticed that she had caught her, and saw that Miray had jumped away. "Got you, and clever girl Miray." After catching the Yasoi girl, she turned to check on how Oksana was doing as she was worried, about her. on turning around she noticed that something was wrong and began to run to Oksana, when she got there she gestured to her, how Esmii had taught her to. "Oksana are you ok, what's happened."

Oksana blinked at Lunara as she pointed to the wound on her shoulder. She had intentionally frozen the blade to prevent the poison, but it seemed like she had failed. She was using her binding to attempt to neutralize the poison in her system as she cursed under her breath.

On the roof, as Oksana and Lunara worked together to successfully draw out the poison, Cherii made a break without hesitation. She was a survivor, not a team player. Arsii did much the same.



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Event: Ransom Demand - Chapter 3| Location: Belleville


Oksana for her investigate created a masterful crude drawing of a girl with one leg, pointy ears, and shoulder-length hair. She decided too start showing this parchment around to try to find some clues and answers to finding the one-legged woman.

Oksana walked around with her piece of paper and asked the same question: "have you seen this woman?" - in her own unique way. At first, she had precious little luck, but then, suddenly, a hit!

A twitchy-looking aberration addict perked up. "Oh *ta*! Luuchan see her! *Yr ash* lady, luuca?" He nodded excitedly.

Oksana smiled bright and wide at a positive confirmation of the suspect. She took a hold of the addict’s hand, as she tugged on it. "Bring me to lady, tak"

The man - Luuchan - blinked. "Oh, well... I have no good... yexon?" He grimaced and tapped the side of his head. "This girl look small different." He glanced at her coin purse.

Oksana was unclear what he was saying, though it appeared he had a marble loose. She however understood the universal of sign of people being interested in money. It was a theme in Belleville in particular as well. She took a coin out as she pointed again to the picture, "Bring to One-Legged Lady?"

Luuchan nodded eagerly, reaching for the coin. "Oh, this girl look different." He pursed his lips. "Different... yr ash." He motioned cutting off a right leg instead of a left. Then, he rose with a twicthy sort of energy, dusted himself off, and gestured to Oksana. "You come. You follow! I take you there." He began skipping.

Oksana turned the page around, so it shone through the other side, so the leg is the right way around, and nodded for future reference. She followed the twitchy man.

Luuchan merrily led her through the streets of Mudville, pointing things out along the way that went totally unheard. Partway through, when he noticed her quietness, he paused and tapped one of his pointed ears. "You no can?'

"I know a little" She nodded her head as she replied about being able to understand him through the language barrier. She pointed to her lips for emphasis.

"Ah!" he replied. "luuca!" He made a thumbs-up gesture and they continued on their way. Before long, they were right in the shadow of the white walls. "This girl," he said, trying to clearly enunciate his words, "She live here, in a small house. We almost here. Many who like darkling come here." He paused for a moment, asking her a hesitant question. "You like?"

"Duckling is Retannese speciality" Oksana made a gesture of a chef kiss, "We hunt for food, or from herds. Duckling rare." She pondered for a moment, "The taste good." She nodded.

Luuchan's eyes widened. "You hunt...darkling?" He looked fearful for a moment. "Those ones... be too dangerous." He shook his head. "Wow." Then, they were in front of a ratty-looking bunkhouse - just about the worst building this close to the city. "She was live in here." He stood back to let Oksana walk through. It was clear that he was not going to enter the place himself.

Oksana approached the door as she inspected it. With a finger bent, she knocked on it with a ratta-tat-tat. She waited to see if there was an answer before she attempted the door herself.

For a moment, there was no answer. The building was clearly large and there was a distinct reek emanating from it. Then, suddenly, a young woman bungled up in rags pushed the door aside and brushed rather rudely past Oksana. It yawned open and the inside beckoned…

Oksana entered the building that smelled of Tommy on a good day, as she hoped that she may be successful in finding the one-legged woman her picture depicted.

Immediately, she found two large women standing in her path: one yasoi and the other eeaiko. To the side was a third: an older human behind a battered wooden desk. A labyrinth of narrow wooden hallways and curtained doorways branched off in every direction and, in the distance, was a rickety set of stairs set against the building's rear brick wall.

The crone looked up and spoke to Oksana, for whatever good it might do. Her eyes flicked evaluatively up and down the young arrival. "Ten Jacks for a bed," she announced, in a voice that *just* about managed not to sound bored. "Five for a space. One incantor for your own room. No men overnight." She blinked and regarded the newcomer expectantly.

Oksana displayed her picture toward them, and hoped they understood her request, and she offered a coin to help sweeten the deal.

"That a girl with one leg?" the old woman rasped, narrowing her eyes.

[color=amethyst]"Eet ees, me'em. Joost lyke -"[/color]

The elder held up a hand in a shushing gesture. "We know 'er. She was here for..." She paused to consider, glancing at the other two. "Roundabout a week."

[color=amethyst]"E jaunkie,"[/color] the eeaiko confirmed.

The yasoi took a breath to speak but, at a sharp look from her superior, pursed her lips and said nothing. "She left a couple days ago," the old woman concluded. "It was strange. She'd already paid for the night, but I haven't seen her since." She shook her head. "You girls?"

[color=amethyst]"Noo, me'em."[/color]

The yasoi nibbled at her lower lip and hesitated, but then shook her head. "Not that one, no," she admitted.

Oksana found it difficult to understand the Eeiako girl’s pronunciation. It was as if she had a piece of meat stuck between her teeth and was very animated in her attempt to dislodge it. Thankfully, most communication was through body language. The elder seemed to be the authority here, and the Yasoi girl acted as if she might know something. It seemed like they were attempting to protect her, so anything hostile would go badly in this situation.

"Art bad, One leg, Yasoi." she said, as she hopped on one leg. She held up the piece of paper and directed it towards the three, particularly the Yasoi girl, in an insistent and encouraging manner. "Please, she can help friend." She rocked her arms in a nurturing manner, her eyes pleading with them. Shaking her head in a sullen manner, she put another coin on the table. "Anything, need to save."

The yasoi woman grimaced at the coin. "I don't think you'll -"

"Well, I've told you that she's gone," the elder interrupted. Seeming to cue in that Oksana was hard of hearing, she waited until the youth had twisted her way. "But if you're willing to pay that much, you can go look." She gestured down the hall. "Just don't disturb anyone too much. Hmm?"

The eeaiko's eyes flicked between the other three women. [color=amethyst]"Shoold saumwaun go weeth her?"[/color] she prodded, and the old woman nodded. "Yes," she agreed, "But not you. Nobody understands a word that comes outta your mouth, girl."

The eeaiko's eyes went to the ground and she nodded sadly. [color=amethyst]"Auf coorse, me'em."[/color]

"Selitte, you go with her. Make sure she behaves!"

It was at about that moment that a pair of raggedy women, their eyes wide and bloodshot like aberration junkies, staggered through the door, one laughing uncontrollably. "Saurah!" shouted the old woman, and the eeaiko leapt into action, gently restraining them for going any further. They stumbled back, one reaching wondrously for the eeaiko's cheek and the glancing around as if she had no idea where she was. "This isn't a charity, ladies!" the old woman could be heard saying. "It costs money to run and the church doesn't give us a Benny." She held out a hand expectantly.

Swaying there, holding onto each other, they looked at her blankly and began laughing. Selitte's eyes searched for Oksana's. "You wanna go look now?" She motioned with her head down the hallway. There were the stairs there as well and this place looked to have at least three floors. "I can show you where she stayed."

"Selitte, don't you go telling her any of your crazy stories!" the old woman shouted, in between trying to wrangle the two new arrivals.

Selitte's eyes flciked between her and Oksana and she nodded obediently. “Of course not, Mama Cacci.”

Oksana thanked them for their generosity with a light bow as she was led away by the Yasoi. She smiled brightly, feeling she was making progress, but the smile had the unfortunate effect of opening her nostrils to further invasion by the strong smells of the place. She hoped she was being led to where the one-legged girl stayed, and perhaps away from the old madam, so they could speak more freely.

As they moved out of the room, Oksana began to ask, “You look as if you have much to say,” nodding towards her guide in an encouraging manner.

The walls were thin things, made of curtains and anchoring planks: designed to be flexible and resistant to the sudden depredations of the mad, desperate, or vicious - designed to be easily replaceable. If Oksana couldn't avoid the stench, she couldn't avoid the sight, either. It was dim and hazy and claustrophobic, with cell-like 'rooms' marked with coloured strips of cloth and symbols. At least three people leapt out at them only to scamper back in to their little cells once they saw it was just Selitte with some new arrival. The eyes of a few went to Oksana's finer articles - of which she did not have very many - and a couple went to her sword, which usually gave them pause. She was fresh meat, they must've assumed, and worthy of evaluation.

The one thing that she *could* at least dodge was the sounds: mad laughter from a couple of rooms, loud sex from others; at least one woman talking to herself in a desperate, unsettled voice and another was singing - quite beautifully. From another rose voices in argument and, when they spilled out, entangled in a vicious hair-pulling, skin-gouging fight, Selitte separated them and sent both reeling back to their rooms, drowsy with Chemical magic.

She took a little time to let the place make its impression on Oksana and for Oksana to make an impression on her. "I have much to say," she said, turning to face the Vossoriyan. "But you don't hear." She pointed to her ears and shook her head. "Do you?"

Oksana nodded her head. “Little,” she said, then mimed the opening and closing of her mouth. “See. Feel.” She placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Vibrations. Though, Avince not best.” She shook her head sadly. “Will do my best to listen well.”

“Man said ducklings are bought here,” she gestured to the rooms. “Occupants are quackers. Aberatsiya?” She questioned, inquiring about the state of the others present.

For a moment, Selitte suppressed a giggle. "Whew," she managed. "Whew. Ahah." She shook her head. "Darklings," she repeated, trying to exaggerate her pronunciation a bit. "'Dark', not 'duck'." Her mirth soon settled, however, and her face became sober. "I'd say three quarters of the people here are addicts." She shook her head. "Maybe more." She swallowed. "The woman you're looking for seemed to be, too..."

She paused and her voice lowered, not that Oksana would've noticed very well. "But I don't think she was." She shook her head. "She talked to herself a little bit. She stumbled in late at night." Selitte pursed her lips. "I remember her well - in the before time, I had to be good at remembering details - she was short for a yasoi, brown hair, mousy face, missing her whole right leg, even some of her hip, I think. She hobbled a lot, like it was a new injury." She regarded Oksana steadily. "But she never spoke with the others any more than she had to. She never caused even a bit of trouble." Selitte gestured about. "And everyone here causes at least some." She bit her lower lip. "I swear, one night, I saw her hurrying back and she was *fast*, not like she'd just lost a leg." They were at the end of the hall, and light streamed in from a barred window and through the skeletal staircase. From a nearby room came loud swearing, and the walls wavered. "I think she was a spy."

Oksana nodded as she followed the best she could. 'Dark' made more sense than 'duck' as well. She paused as she thought of a response. “A man, Jaxan, she with him?” She indicated a possible companion. “He sought to do charity work, went missing. Last seen with her, maybe.” In truth, she had nothing indicating this, but perhaps tying something together might help.

The yasoi shook her head. Then, she furrowed her brow and considered. "Well... I saw her with a man once, in the street: very tall." She paired it with a gesture. "White hair." She shrugged. "Nice clothes, but I don't know his name..." She glanced about, ever alert in this place. "She disappeared a couple nights later."

Oksana nodded in affirmation. “That would be Jaxan. She must be with him.”She paused as she tried to formulate her next question. “Do you know where she goes? Where can she go?” She circled a finger for their current location, then gestured toward the madam. “She said no man.”

"Mama Cacci thinks my idea is crazy she's a yan - not a soldier and she doesn't know Tarlonese like I do." Senitte shook her head. "She was telling the truth, though. The one legged girl paid for the night and then left, suddenly, maybe because of that man." She shook her head. "Their body language when they spoke: it was not a rich man helping a poor girl or paying her for sex." She shook her head. "They were equals. As far as I know, she never brought him in here. That was the only time I saw them together." She paused to consider. "We have to be careful how we bring it up, but we should talk with Saurah."

Oksana faced a hurdle when it came to talking to the Eeaiko, which she shared with the Yasoi girl. “I cannot hear her,” she said, indicating her ear and then her lips, to simulate the potential mismatch between the two of them. “I need your help.”

Senitte reached out with both hands to take Oksana's. "I am happy to help, suunei." Wasting little time, she led the Vossoriyan back towards the front.

"Not there," called Mama Cacci, "Eh?" She shook her head apologetically. "She was until... the day before yesterday, even -"

"Mama Cacci," Senitte interrupted, "Can I borrow Saurah for just a minute?"

The old woman shot the young one a crusty glare. "Oh, and we just leave the front unguarded?" An aberration addict stumbled out into the warm afternoon air, waving drunkenly at the reception area. Saurah waved back and managed a smile. "Sounds like a great idea! Got any more winners in there?" She tapped her head mockingly.

"Literally just a minute," Senitte promised. "And we'll be right outside."

Saurah, sensing that it was important, nodded, eyes darting towards Oksana. "I'm counting," Mama Cacci growled and, true to her word, she began.

They scrambled outside. [color=amethyst]"Okee. Yoo waunt too knoow ebaut te waun-leg goorl?"[/color] Saurah asked, glancing between the other two. [color=amethyst]"She went aut toowaurd te gete aun te nyght shee deesauppeered."[/color] The eeaiko pointed to the distant Seagate and the white walls that it guarded. [color=amethyst]"Baut Eye stend gaurd autsyde e laut."[/color] She nodded, hoping for acknowledgement of understanding. [color=amethyst]"Eye theenk tere ees e secoond waun, weeth red herr. Shee waus -"[/color]

The door swung open. "Fun's over, ladies," came Mama Cacci's voice. "Place doesn't run itself!"

[color=amethyst]"There aur twoo!"[/color] Saurah quickly blurted, backing inside.

"She says the one-legged girl went towards the gate the night she disappeared. She thinks there's a second girl around, with -"

"Senitte!" came an angry voice. "Move it or lose it!"

She ducked back inside with an anguished face. "Red hair! There are two!" With that, she was gone, and Oksana stood alone on the street. Across from her lay St. Vitus' church, a shelter by the same name, and a Red Pentact. Further up the road was a diagonal intersection with the Searoad and the white walls of Ersand'Enise behind the Seagate.

Oksana looked at the drawing and made some alterations to the parchment. She drew a second figure of a girl with brown hair, with the missing leg on the opposite side. She never thought there would be so many one-legged Yasoi; perhaps some of them might do it intentionally to emulate their fallen goddess. The thought disturbed her, but she knew others who had done worse for less motivation. She began to head towards the Sea Gate, pondering which location would make the most sense to check out next.

Along the way she spotted Xiuyang and Seviin, as she moved to meet up with them.

Seviin slowed to a stop, and Xiuyang followed suit. Like her companion, she groomed herself, but more out of a need to self-soothe than to look her best. She had a look at their destination, with some apprehension in her eyes. Then, those eyes caught Oksana, and hope returned. "You found the place!" she chirped. "Learn something?" she waited eagerly for an answer. "We should stick together. It feels like a storm is brewing."

"Oira, suunei!" Seviin waved Oksana over, hurrying up to her, and Xiuyang was full of questions as well. The yasoi nodded at her assertion and then made a point of facing Oksana as she spoke. "We learned much. This matter is not simple. There are two people missing and I am guessing they are connected." She glanced at Xiuyang, equally eager for Oksana's response.

In the background lay the church and the Red Pentact. Though they worked with all sorts of injuries and maladies there, it appeared focused on addiction treatment. A handful of Dordian nuns hurried by, each sparing a brief but respectful nod in Seviin's direction. The priestess nodded back and made the sign of the Pentad.

Oksana waved to the pair as she joined them. She held up the crudely drawn picture, depicting a red-haired Vyshta girl and a brown-haired one. "Two of them," she confirmed with a nod. "Seen with Jaxan. They disappeared last night, last seen headed to the gate." She pointed towards the Seagate in the distance. In a single sentence, she distilled everything she knew.

Xiuyang also nodded towards the two nuns. If she was not one of them, she respected their work—and her work often coincided with theirs, at least. Then, there was Oksana's reply. "Two?!" Xiuyang replied incredulously. "You're sure?" What, was he gathering them all? She kept that particular absurdity to herself, though, and hoped to any gods that would listen that was not the case.

Here, though, she was met with a crossroads, and seemed uncertain. "I think... should we still ask around? If Jaxan returned to Ersand'Enise, why has no one seen him? We don't know his state of mind or what he intends." She spoke while facing Oksana, but then she turned to Seviin. Xiuyang was apprehensive. Gone was the confident jokester everyone was used to. Was it because she'd ditched the mask? Did the persona follow suit?

Seviin blinked, trying to process the information. She blinked again. So there were *two* one-legged women leading Jaxan into Ersand'Enise and they all disappeared last night...

She furrowed her brow. "But we were already looking for Jaxan last night and he's been missing for at least *three* days." She glanced Xiuyang's way. "And the one-legged woman *we* know of - Thantra - has been gone for the same amount of time."

"And she had... red hair?" remarked Xiuyang with a hint of uncertainty.

Seviin nodded animatedly. "Yes!" she exclaimed, pointing to both her and Oksana's drawings. "Just like here!" She nibbled her lower lip and her eyes were wide with an excited sort of thinking, as if it were all coming together. "She mentioned an 'apple seller' - a Tarlonese agent - and that's who me and you saw!" She gestured between herself and Xiuyang.

"...and a childhood friend."

Seviin's eyes slid to Oksana's drawing and so did her partner's. "Another Tarlonese woman with one leg..." The priestess shook her head. "I don't think this is a coincidence." She turned to regard the Red Pentact. "And there was an aberration incident here three days ago!" She regarded the other two.

Xiuyang nodded grimly. "It was info from the Colas, but we've found no reasons to doubt it: Jaxan can probably create aberrations, and it's likely he did so in there." She regarded the building in question with the polar opposite of Seviin's enthusiastic energy.

Seviin nodded, her excitement quickly overwhelmed by the sobering realization of just what sort of incident they were talking about. She came down a bit from the eureka of her momentary high.

"Oksana, are you sure that you didn't... misinterpret?" She furrowed her brow. "If this other Tarlonese girl disappeared just a day or two ago and she was with the apple seller..."

Oksana mumbled something in Vossoriyan, clearly displeased about something. She sighed, deciding to start from the beginning as she pointed at the girl with brown hair in the drawing. "She’s been there for week," she said, indicating the building she had come from. "Gone for two days but still paid up. Last seen walking towards there," she continued, pointing towards the Seagate. "She was seen talking with a nice clothes, white-haired yasoi man." She pointed at the drawing again, emphasizing, "There are two," and then gestured between the two girls in the picture.

"...Seviin," Xiuyang began shakily. "Jaxan had... brown hair, right? I'm sure that's what the parents told us..."

"I... think so. Yes!" Seviin replied with a nod. She twisted to regard Oksana. "This one, I think." She pointed to the brown-haired yasoi drawing. "She was with a white-haired man and he's a Tarlonese recruiter." She pointed to the other. "This one is Thantra. She went missing at the same time as Jaxan and she worked right here." she pointed to the Red Pentact beside them. "He can generate aberrations - probably a timewalker - and there was an incident here just before he disappeared."

She shook her head and twisted towards the Red Pentact, motioning with her chin. "I've volunteered there." Her eyes flicked between the other two. "Any good reason not to go in?"

Seviin's eyes did not evade anything. They took it in, they made their judgement, and she said nothing but for, "Then let us go."

Oksana was silent, seemingly already on board with the plan. Seviin took the lead and brushed the curtains aside, walking into the makeshift receiving room of the tent. It was mere moments before a nun in the robes of a Sister of the Unconquered Sun brushed past, wheeling in a young man strapped to a stretcher and thrashing.

A Brother of the Sunset was using some rather advanced binding magic on an old human man. A *Sister* of the Sunset was feeding a teenage yasoi girl who appeared utterly listless. She opened her mouth when prodded and swallowed, sitting there on a bed and staring blankly.

Others had various minor injuries, ailments, and issues, but the majority were aberration-addled. Most of them were quite ragged, as one might expect, but a surprising number looked as if they had been respectable enough folk before their recent trip here. Some were even human.

Then, there was a large East Severan woman blocking their way. She'd emerged from the doorway into the hospital proper. Her gaze flicked between the three women before falling upon Seviin. "Sister Taxoiya."

"Mother Grace." The tall yasoi bowed at the waist, her knees bending slightly too.

"Are you here to help? Are these..." She evaluated the other two before returning her gaze to Seviin. "Volunteers?"

Oksana allowed the other two to do the talking with their silver tongues and keen ears as she inspected the various people present.

A thought crossed her mind: what was a life when you’re no longer truly living? She looked at some of the blank faces around her. She wondered if she would end up like that, deprived of Eshiran’s mercy and the chance to meet her ancestors in the afterlife. Back home, the responsibility fell to the family and then the tribe to make these choices—those who loved and knew the individual best.

Seviin grimaced knowingly. "We won't take much of your time, Mother Gracie, she began, "but my friends are correct. There was an incident. Two of the people involved have gone missing: a yasoi woman named Thantra - she had red hair and was missing a leg - and a yasoi man named Jaxan'suul'doridax. His parents are -"

"Filthy rich and looking for him." The abbess shook her head and crossed her arms. Her eyes flicked between the three girls. "Are they paying you?"

Seviin did not notice it, for she was entirely focused on her conversation with Mother Gracie. The others might have, however. At least two the patients stiffened at Jaxan's name, perking up and looking their way. The spoon a nurse was holding bumped against the listless woman's closed lips.

As Oksana observed the others, she noticed how they perked up as something drew their attention. She looked around, questioning if someone had rung a dinner bell to cause such a response. Then it happened again, causing them to be alert like salivating dogs. She realized they were likely overhearing the conversation about Jaxan.

She approached as a nurse had difficulty feeding a listless woman, the broth just sitting in the woman’s mouth and drooling out a little. Oksana moved forward, tipped the woman's head back slightly, and stimulated her throat to encourage swallowing. The woman swallowed gently, downing the broth. Oksana encouraged the nurse to step aside and indicated for her to take over.

Once settled with the woman, Oksana continued to feed her as she began to ask a question. “Jack-son?” she queried, though the response was muted. She attempted again to pronounce, “Jax-” and already there was a response.

"That's Maribet. She'd not talk since the incident," said a hegelan volunteer, mixing up her tenses like most of them did. She shook her head. "He stab 'er throated and it's heal, but the damage is deeper, methinks." She tapped her temple.

The yasoi girl was looking at Oksana, though, and the Vossoriyan tried again. "Jax-" Maribet blinked. She reached out, seized the newcomer's hand, and there were thoughts by the dozens flashing through her large golden-brown eyes. Her lips quivered and she looked pained. "Jaxan," she interrupted, her voice barely a squeak. She rose, pulling Oksana with her, and began moving. Her eyes were wide and bugged out and she looked like a mess. She glanced back beseechingly at Oksana and coughed, reaching up to massage her throat as if it hurt - as if its very abilities were unexpected and confusing. She breathed a few times.

"Mother Gracie!" shouted the hegelan, her bright blond hair bouncing in curls as she hurried off. "Maribet's just talk!"

"It... still do not feel... right." she coughed again. She pressed a hand to her upper chest. "He take it." Oksana could feel her trembling. "Follow. I know where he be."

Oksana was not strictly with them. One of the patients had her by the hand - had it been that girl who looked listless? - and was leading her out onto the street. Seviin's eyes followed. "I... don't think we've been given a choice!"

Two separate leads, both pointing in the same direction. What had come unraveled before - what had tossed them separately to the four winds - was now bringing them back together. If Dorothea had lost the trail, all three seemed to agree that they were well rid of her. If Lunara was with her, then perhaps the fiery Palaparese might be the only one among them able to exercise something like a restraining influence.

The boys were about somewhere as well but, if this was the lead that would bring the investigators, finally, to Jaxan and Thantra, then they had either fallen off of the pace or would come upon it separately, of their own volition.

Yet, Maribet, who had come back to the world as suddenly as she had left it after three listless days, who had departed with such haste and insistence that the nurses had been unable to muster anyone to stop her, continued in that vein. It was clear that, if the trio did not match her urgency, they would lose her trail. "I shall look after her!" Seviin shouted back at the sisters of the Red Pentact. "We shall return her safely!"

They did not have so very far to go. Cutting across the Searoad with its bustling commerce and vigilant guards, and skirting the northern edge of Fascino, they found themselves in Miller's Hook. They found themselves at the townhomes. Maribet, momentarily confused, searched about. Reflexively, she reached up and stroked her throat. She shook her head as if to clear it. "This!" She pointed to the house at the very end of the row and began walking toward it.

Seviin's arm shot out to bar the girl from going any further. She reached out with her senses and, inside, were a one-legged woman and an unconscious man... but there were two others. She was so focused, however, that she did not notice the third, as the crowd swirled and parted, Oksana and Xiuyang beheld two hulking skuggvars, and Abdel.



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