Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Fallenreaper
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Mahal Agha
"Now, we have a ship to catch."


Cast Away


Drop Off
Rough Seas
Improvising an Entrance
Silencing the Alarm
Here Comes Trouble
Explosive Exit and Unexpected Rescue

Footnotes: Mahal drops off Raffie --> narrowly avoids colliding with a Torpedo Thresher or two--> Sneaks onto Pirate ship--> Silences an alerted non- mage pirate--> Fights a mage pirate--> Then explodes powder kegs and is picked up by Virangish crew of the Altin Oğul
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Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by dragonpiece
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Ride at Dawn


The Festival of Eshiran slowly came to a close. Lanterns once held to illuminate the stalls now flickered to darkness and the stalls that filled the market place were either covered or placed back in storage. The ringing in people’s ears was replaced with the calm of waves crashing at the port. Children found themselves clutching their first vuvuzela as their parents tucked them into bed. Many people comforted themselves with their loved ones one last time towards the end of the festival. The city of Zengali had raised its spirits to the sky for the sake of tomorrow and hopefully this would be the last time they would have to.

Before Lor had carrassed over the eastern cliffs of Zengali, men and the odd woman were loading themselves onto ships. Some vessels stood mighty with their large sails and double or triple gun decks. The mightiest vessel of war was the galleon that The Marquis of Zengali wielded, the Mkuki wa Zengal. From the quality of construction to the polish of the cannons, no expense was spared in the creation of it over the last few decades. Accented with bronze and well equipped with the most cannons, many men found themselves boarding the ship.

The next ship that held some spotlight was a fluyt-like ship with Hodari riding upon it. The main sail and flag proudly showed the symbol of the Pentad in all its glory. It was loaded up with a concerning amount of firepower, enough to where one would be concerned of its ability to stay upright on the waves. Some number of Mezegolian warriors and people of the church boarded it for it was their duty. Stained a deep red, the powerful fluyt stood out even if the size of the vessel did not compare to the handful of larger ships.

Another one of the larger ships was a Eskandish long boat, so long and wide that it may as well been called a bastardized Galleass. The Eskandish mongrels that called it home swore on their father’s names they could carry it over the very mountains of Mezegol! It carried the head of a dragon and the claws of a sandbar as decoration. Upon the beastly southmen ship, a deck of rowers stood above a deck of guns, and antique shields of a bygone era lined the sides of the longboat. It could get quite the burst of speed but trying to do that while fighting was quite the challenge. Though in spite of this, they seemed confident. They would happily accept any Sovereign Pact aligned person and even a Revidian that showed enough heart.

To the side of the formation, towards the open waters, was a handful of sloops of war, cutters, and one special sloop with 19 cannons. Were the odd mercenary, former pirate, and some Virangish on some of the better cutters. There was a true ghost crew on one of the cutters and was almost completely empty. It was certainly ready to be boarded and a note was pinned on the mass that any person of notable character would be given ownership of it on the completion of the hunt.

Many other ships filled out the ranks as a diamond formation catalyzed for easy travels. The success of this expedition was almost solely based on that the thresher wouldn’t come too close to shore and attack before people where the ships were in position. The ride of a few hours held people's breaths at bay and the normally loud people were silent as to not add any reason the Thresher would attack. Every moment felt like a relief and a blessing, especially to those like Zarina who had seen how quickly it can destroy a sloop.

But the fleet did make it to their chosen arena. It was here, at the remains of the old Sant'Agata della Compagnia Rossa now laid among the rocky shallows. There was only an hour of wait before a sacrificial caravel was sent into deeper waters to lure the White Thresher to trap. Of course the ship needed someone to take control of it and the Marquis had requested one brave soul, blessed by the gift, to take on the perilous task.

An hour later, Lor had reached its high peak in the sky. Far in the distance, they could see the mage returning to the fleet, closely followed with a growing bulge in the water behind it. The cannons were readied as the ship skipped over waves at an unbelievable pace. Even with all the speed granted to them by Dami, the water grew larger and larger behind them. With a rush of white water, the ship disappeared but what of the mage? No one knew the fate of them but still they fired their cannons at the beast. now breaching the surface.

What was there was not the White Thresher rumored about but a monster nearly 300 feet in length. The white carapace had growths of sickly gray-blue and green liquid leaking at the seams. The claws have seemed to burst and then reform into jagged sickles. Mages could feel the unending reactions roiling inside of the creature at a distance. Water steamed off of its massive body and then it suddenly stopped. All but the strongest of mages lose their faculties as they temporarily crumble at its massive draw of energy. The warm ocean behind it suddenly had a small iceberg behind it as it threw itself toward the fresh ships, still thirsty for blood.

The fight has begun.


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Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Force and Fury
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The remains of the warehouse still smouldered, its charred timbers poking up from the ground like cruelly amputated reminders of the encounter's violence, ashy smoke boiling off into the night air, and a severed support beam glowing with residual heat. Yet, thanks to the last-second intervention of Seviin, Xiuyang, Johann, and others, the damage to the surrounding neighbourhood was virtually nonexistent. Locals who had run and hid in terror began to come out of the woodwork. As a soft rain began to coat the ground and wreckage, they gathered in curiosity, hovering nearby until the much-feared interlopers from the White-Walled City were gone. They soon progressed to poking around, and then looting and cleaning.

Some longer-term residents spoke of Moli's Emporium, the previous year: a local business and success story that had been ruthlessly attacked and obliterated by invaders from Ersand'Enise. The academy had later claimed the mission to be both humanitarian and focused on preventing the creation of dangerous and illegal weapons, and some of the locals had believed them, but most knew better. It was more of the same; someone in Mudville started to get big, to make their own way, to provide gainful employment, and the mages came out to crush them, for it was in the name: a place called 'Mudville' must never outshine the White-Walled City. However, the situation had changed since the arrival, in droves, of refugees from yasoi lands. While their people had always been a noticeable minority, they now made up solidly half of the town: impoverished, seething, burgeoning, and in increasing tension with their human neighbours.

Yet, if feelings were mixed, there was some gratitude for the forced departure of the Colas. Even if they were homegrown, they had been thugs and gangsters. They had blackmailed, extorted, beaten, humiliated, and even murdered their fellow Mudvillians. If the two sides - criminals and colonists - had not destroyed each other, as some might've hoped, at least one was gone. At least the cruelty, arrogance, and recklessness of the academy's students was well marked. Most of the swelling slum's residents had developed strategies for not being caught in it and maimed or killed. That Ersand'Enise demanded the occasional blood sacrifice in return for the opportunities it provided was almost a fact of life at this point: resented but dully accepted. The Cola Brothers had been uniquely awful, and now they were gone. Now, thought some - particularly the human, eeaiko, and helegan residents, particularly the Tarlonese supporters - if the mages' rampage ended with the Resistance crushed as well, they might be free of two unique evils.

This, then, was what swirled through the sideroads, alleys, and tenements of the town renamed 'Belleville' that night, and into the next day. Only Seviin had hung around, compelled by her nature and duties to help clean up the disaster site. Once the rain stopped, she'd found a dry place and caught a few hours of sleep. She'd woken early and met her peers at the Seagate, only her fine - though slightly sullied - priestess' robes and familiarity with the guards preventing her from being barred or questioned. They filtered through, some holding a brief discussion on what should be done next. The clock was ticking and the Colas had proven to be a false lead: opportunists who'd overplayed their hand and been dealt with.

They had only two worthwhile pieces of information - hardly leads - at this point, and so the group divided itself up so as to best use their strengths. Most of the others were immensely wary of Dorothea after her display of dark magic and sadism the previous day, and ill-disposed to working with her. Despite their regard for each other, Ashon was insistent upon meeting the Resistance and Seviin equally insistent that her Tarlonese accent would set them on edge. Hence, they parted ways. Hence, Seviin found herself searching for the one-legged woman who'd been sighted with Jaxan slightly before his disappearance. She found herself with Xiuyang, Oksana, and Dory. The former pair quickly separated themselves from Dory, who was quick to become tangled up in a tense racial standoff. Oksana pursued her own leads through a ghastly hostel and these eventually led her to reunite with her allies. At a Red Pentact hospital, they learned what remained. The puzzle came together. They made haste for a row house in Miller's Hook, their goal in sight and a secondary one presenting itself.

The remaining five sought out the Resistance. Ashon decided to investigate the relatively new Cryin' Cyan: a bar not far from the Searoad where some whispered that Resistance members could be found. Niallus and Lunara followed a separate trail and soon found themselves tangled up in a contentious brawl by the docks where a Resistance agent looking to collect donations had drawn the ire of workers. Johann made his way through the market stalls along the great boulevard, generously splashing his money around in search of leads. Finally, Abdel hung back, keeping tabs on all of the others as a tethered is uniquely capable of doing. It wasn't long before Ashon had navigated his way to the heart of the freedom fighters' hideout - or were they gangsters? Niallus, through his well-intentioned meddling, soon found himself at the Cryin' Cyan as well, Abdel and Johann following a separate set of leads. While the Eskandishman failed a trustworthiness test and was pulled away by the spectre of revenge against Cherii'cola, Ashon, Johann, and Abdel learned what they needed and linked up for a final push.

Dory and Lunara were the only others who appeared cast adrift, having both been tangled up in the aftermath of a potentially-deadly and racially charged brawl. As that played out, the clock continued to tick. Their peers, who'd both taken disparate routes to what was - surely! - the final scenario of this wild goose chase, were without their vital support. Was this it? Was it all to play for? Was Jaxan even okay - alive!?

Only one thing was certain: they would soon find out!




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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Emeth
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What is Done in Secret





Seviin would not let Xiuyang out of her sight. Was it endearing or vexing or some combination of both? Was it out of concern for the merchant girl or for the locals?

Regardless, they found themselves a little bit lost for direction: where to actually begin? "Maybe we can just ask around?" the yasoi posited. She had a drawing on her, and it was rather crude and basic. For all of her many talents, it was clear that art was not among them. "What do you propose and how do we..." She glanced off to where Dory was, in the distance. "Well, you know."

"Twice they called her a hooker," Xiuyang replied. "I'm inclined to hit up the seediest bars in town and hope to get 'lucky,' so to speak. If we show her picture and ask around and she catches wind of it, she might assume the worst and go into hiding. I know I would, especially if the Colas have been deciding that people owe them money for this and that bullshit reason." Seviin cast a glance in Dory's direction, as did Xiuyang—and suddenly, she started shouting at Seviin. "You brought me here just to give me some long-winded lecture, didn't you?! Fuck off! It's not my fault!" Then, she took off running.

Was that her answer?

For a moment, Seviin was taken aback by the response. She blinked not once, but twice. Okaaaayyyy then... She watched Xiuyang run. Then, she realized that it meant she would end up with Dory, which was a fate roughly equal to death, at least for most yasoi Dory seemed to encounter. "Wait!" she called, running after the shorter girl. "You deserve one for you are a sinner and your eternal soul is in danger, but that was not my intention, I swear it! Please!" Before long, Dory was nowhere to be seen.

Short as she was, Xiuyang was fast, and ran like her life depended on it. She kept looking over her shoulder as she turned corners, while Seviin followed. Once she sensed that the dark mage had lost interest in Seviin and her "lecture," Xiuyang abruptly stopped running. "And it's that easy," she said as she popped the cork on her gourd. "I was worried about letting you tag along, but your acting isn't bad, either." She took a chug, and offered the gourd to Seviin.

Seviin blinked not once, but twice. "Ah!" she replied. "Yes! Acting!" She blushed. "Yours is better... and very convincing." To be honest, she was rather lost now. They were quite close to the far edge of the vast shantytown, however. Some of the newest yasoi arrivals had taken refuge at the edge of the forest, building their houses in the largest of trees. "I doubt they'll know much," she offered. "We're way off-course." She glanced about. There was, however, a man handing out free buudvuud under a tree. he appeared to have a large sack as well. He spoke eloquently in yasoi and those gathered - almost all yasoi - seemed to be quite enraptured. Seviin took a couple of steps forward as well, straining to listen.

Xiuyang smiled ruefully. "Sorry for the shock, then," she offered, in lieu of alcohol. Instead, she continued to indulge, seemingly more so than usual, even for her. "What's the guy handing out free food talking about?" She asked curiously. She, too, had handed out food to refugees before, but they quickly lost interest in the yanii merchant once she'd run out.

Seviin swallowed. There was something... familiar about the man. He was young, as well. "He is telling the true story of this city..." She trailed off, listening some more. "Ersan'Deniiz is old Mycormish. The yasoi people lived there first, for thousands of years." She shook her head. "There's a good dose of ethnic nationalist propaganda, too." She furrowed her brow and nibbled her lower lip. "Hmm..." She eyes the large bag he was carrying warily.

"For real? I thought Ashon was pulling my leg," Xiuyang replied, interested. She strained her ears, trying to latch on to any words she might recognize, but it was futile. "...Seems like I've wandered somewhere I'm not welcome. Shall I go? You can talk to him if you want." She, too, was curious about the bag, however, and tried to use her beanie to peruse its contents.

Seviin shook her head. "All who do good should be welcome anywhere." She blinked. "You shall do good. Correct, Xiuyang?" Her face almost obnoxiously earnest.

Xiuyang blinked, not once but twice. "But those who do good are not welcomed everywhere—especially if they seek change to the status quo. The world is full of evil, Seviin." She averted her eyes. "I do as much good as I'm allowed."

Seviin evaluated the words. "Do you believe your words?" She tilted her head to the side momentarily, but then seemed to release the question off into the warm early Dorrad air with a sigh. "I do as much good as I can," she declared assertively. "The world is full of good, too, you know." She took a deep breath and released it. "Anyhow, this seems like a distraction from our real mission." The Tarlonese shook her head. "Perhaps we should question the people as we leave and see if we might salvage something."

It was at around this point that Xiuyang was able to sense what was in the bag. It was... a whole bunch of apples, but they had a unique chemical composition: not poisonous, but certainly... exotic.

"Of course I believe what I'm saying; it's the truth," Xiuyang rebutted, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. "You want to make powerful enemies, try to change something for the better for those beneath you. As is taught... the good you do, do it in secret, that the gods might reward you for it. The world is a thankless place, by far more evil than good."

If Seviin had been earnest in expressing her opinion, Xiuyang was almost dogmatic. If Sipenta had taught Xiuyang anything, it's that her father was right: keep a low profile and stay out of the way of those more powerful than you. She seemed to catch herself, though, and stopped just short of asking Seviin what good deeds could be done from the grave, leaving an awkward silence. "...Are apples commonly paired with buudvuud? Any nonna would be pissed if you put them on pizza," she remarked as she continued eyeing the bag.

Xiuyang's response rebounded off of Seviin without further comment but a disagreeing twist of her lips, but then came the question hot on its heels. "Apples?" the priestess quirked an eyebrow questioningly. "What? In the bag?" She reached out, trying to sense anything, but there was too much interference from all of the other energies and an inert apple doesn't give off very much of any sort of signature.

With Xiuyang's affirmative, Seviin pursed her lips. "Sometimes, when we're moving quickly through the trees, an apple or some other juicy fruit is a good refreshment and you don't have to slow down or risk spilling it." She shook her head tightly. "This is a sitdown meal, though." She glanced at Xiuyang and then back at the man, who was talking to a few others now. He was familiar. It frustrated her that she could not place him. "Leave this with me, suuvii." She nodded slowly. "I have theories, but I don't think it would do to interrupt this little gathering." There was a second quick nod: firmer. "I think we should speak with some of these people as they filter away, however. We might be able to salvage something from this detour.

Xiuyang offered only a shrug of finality. History would prove her right as it had so often proven her wrong, when she looked for reasons to be optimistic. "They're like no apples I've ever seen at the Volta Emporium. I doubt he'd sell me any, though, if he's giving the yasoi a sermon about how much better they are than huusoi. ...Not that I entirely disagree." She slumped down and squatted low to the ground, taking another sip from her gourd. Did the girl ever stop drinking? It was around this time that Seviin realized that the colors around Xiuyang had dulled in the subtlest of illusions, making her look much more like a dirty, downtrodden peasant than a merchant from a distinguished family. It wasn't perfect, but from a distance, she surely blended in a lot more. There she sat, waiting for the yasoi picnic to reach some kind of conclusion. In the meantime, she was there, and seemingly more forthcoming than usual. Maybe it was the alcohol?

Seviin scowled. “I do.” She shook her head. “Mother Oirase created us with an equal capacity for good or ill, and the yasoi have done just as much as huusoi. I have lived it. We are not a thing to be idealized.” A silence built as Xiuyang squatted there, drinking. Seviin glanced down at her for just long enough to notice the illusion take hold, before turning to regard the gathering. “We should speak with them before they disperse.” She took a couple of steps before twisting, her white robes standing out among the sea of dull reds, greens, blues, and browns. “As one, or separate?” she asked.

Xiuyang blinked. Then, abruptly, she choked on her drink and burst out laughing, though she tried to keep quiet. Even when she was done, she was smiling, and she didn't explain why. "If we're both asking around about a one-legged yasoi, we might as well go together. We won't be fooling anyone into thinking we're not, and it's safer anyway." Standing up, she chugged one last time from her gourd before hiding it. Rounding the corner, she took a few steps toward some yasoi that had either heard the whole story already or had lost interest, before she spoke again. "Oirase keep you, Seviin. Live a long life."

Again, Xiuyang's eyes avoided Seviin's. Again, her voice sounded like someone who was trying to be genuine, but didn't know how—and right away, she was back to acting as she approached a yasoi woman. "Excuse me... Um, I'm looking for someone..." she began, her voice anxious and mousey.

It was a young couple, and they seemed a bit uncertain, but there was a priestess of Oirase here, and such people were to be respected. "Well," the woman out of the pair replied, "I'll see if I can help." The man nodded.

Xiuyang's mouth dropped open slightly. "...Thank you..!" she replied earnestly, as if these two were the first to offer her help all day. "I'm trying to find a woman who helped me. I was being attacked, and in the confusion, she was blamed and fled. I didn't get a good look at her. I had blood in my eyes, but she was definitely yasoi, and... well, I know I sound absurd, but she ran away on crutches! It was incredible. I just have to meet her. I want to thank her in person. It's because of her that I lived. But, I don't know where to start looking."

The couple looked at each other. The man opened his mouth to speak but paused. "El'ya'p...?" he asked his wife or girlfriend. She pondered and then shrugged. "Did she look like she was from the city?"

"Yes," added the man. "That and... any other distinguishing features?"

"Ap hiing yax..." The woman trailed off. "Did she have bright red hair?" She added.

Xiuyang considered. Jaxan was from a rich family, and if he was spending his money on "company," they were probably also at least somewhat classy, if not close to home. "...Yeah, she probably was. But I was hoping there might be somewhere she goes often, outside the walls." She tapped her index fingers together apprehensively. "Well, I can't be sure if her hair was red. E-Everything looked bright red." A little nervous giggle accompanied her dark humor. "Do you know of someone like that?" she asked hopefully.

The two of them looked at each other again. "There's a girl," said the man. "Yes, a woman from the city."

"Yasoi - bright red hair."

"She has the form of the fallen goddess." Both hastily made the sign of the pentad. "She volunteers at one of the soup kitchens, and as a healer at one of the medical tents."

The woman scrunched her face up, trying to remember. "Her name, qitii, juup joi..."

He bounced up on the balls of his feet. "Ugh. It's at the tip of my mouth."

"Lanta?

He shook his head. "No, it had a yan - huusoi - 'th' somewhere." They grimaced and looked at Xiuyang helplessly.

There was a mixed reaction from Xiuyang. First, she was glad to hear about the soup kitchen and medical services. By sheer luck, it seemed that she'd stumbled her way into crafting a story that seemed reasonable. Then, however, she was confused. She often did similar on the odd Victendes, and she'd never met this woman. Surely, she would remember such a meeting. The sight of any one-legged yasoi ought to be burned into her mind after everything she'd been through—but the name... perhaps her own mind was playing a trick on her, but it seemed to be on the tip of her tongue as well. "Thank you. It's enough for a start, which is more than I had before." She smiled, and made the sign of Oraff as she bowed respectfully. Then she turned to look at Seviin and bounced on her heels eagerly.

“Well, that was a pleasant surprise,” Seviin admitted, after bowing to the pair in thanks. “Who'd have thought we'd get further with honey than vinegar?” She took out her drawing, crouched in front of a landing, and tried to modify the hair a bit with a pencil and some chemical magic. “Red, now,” she remarked in approval, standing and flashing the objectively terrible work at Xiuyang.

There were still some others about: a trio of preteens clustere din animated conversation as they walked, a very old man being led along by an impatient young boy, and a middle-aged human woman who seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.

Xiuyang turned away, acknowledging the patronizing words by refusing to acknowledge them. "Why would I interrogate them? They've done nothing wrong. They're doing a good thing helping us; they deserve to know it and feel good about it, even if some details have to be skewed." She took another impatient chug as she fast-walked in the direction of the white walls, away from Seviin's judgmental gaze.

"If we just asked them where to find a one-legged yasoi woman, they might assume we're out 'collecting debt' or something and mislead us. A feel-good story puts people at ease and makes them more charitable to match. Saves us the trouble of paying bribes." Xiuyang paid little heed to the others around them beyond keeping her voice low and her senses on alert. She took a longer look at the human as if she were evaluating her, slowing her pace somewhat until she briefly stopped and checked a pocketwatch. "Whatever Juulet told you about me is bullshit," she suddenly asserted. "I'm not a villain and I'm certainly not stupid. I'm here to reunite a son with his father and that's it—and we're barking up the wrong tree. We have a lot of ground to cover, so let's leave."

Seviin blinked twice. In fact, Juulet had told her nothing, nor would she have put much faith in it anyhow, for Juulet was a terrible person. The yasoi had been about to ask the old man and the boy, but then Xiuyang was stalking away, and so she started to follow.

She made if five steps before stopping. "Why did you kill that boy who was pretending to be Jaxan?" she asked in what she thought was an even tone. "How did you kill him?"

Xiuyang blinked back, like she hadn't even expected the question. "He put a blood mark on me. You were incapacitated, I was surrounded... there was nothing to do, nowhere to go. I had the money. I was their target. They tricked us at least five times. Are you saying I should have just begged for my life and trusted them to keep their word?" she responded with no small amount of skepticism. "...I made it quick," she added with a frown and a low voice.

Seviin did not remember five tricks. In fact, she was not even sure there had been more than one. "So he was trying to kill you," you she said, the 'luuca' at the end implied rather than spoken.

In truth, she did not trust Xiuyang, not because she was evil but because she was unstable. Seviin would not go a step further until they spoke about this: properly.

"Yes..?" Xiuyang replied, seeming genuinely confused by the question, as though the answer were obvious. Certainly, it was obvious to a cynic like her. She wasn't going to let him drain her to unconsciousness and just hope he stopped there, took the money and left without doing anything else to her. Never, not after Yarsoc. "I daresay they were all trying to kill us. I couldn't exactly pull them all aside and ask them politely on an individual basis to make sure." There was bitterness in her voice—tempered, but still noticeable—and all the while, she kept shifting her attention between her drink and her pocketwatch.

Seviin shook her head tightly. "Right. Okay. Well, let's get there." She walked suddenly out ahead. Some people saw not only what they were equipped to, but only what they wanted to as well. Xiuyang was one of those. It was in Father Damy's hands now.

They walked along and, before long, there was a soup kitchen within their sights, a sign hanging from a midsized building with a clear picture of what one might expect to find within. Around back and sides were a series of canvas awnings and open-sided tents with long benches. Dozens of people, from ragged to semi-respectable huddled inside, chatting and eating.

There were two large cauldrons that the approaching pair could see, gentle rolls of steam escaping them to dissipate in the warm dorrad air. Volunteers in white aprons with green pentacts on them moved between the tables, collecting the dishes that some of the patrons had forgotten to bring to a wash basin, serving the soup, topping up water barrels, and chopping up fresh ingredients to add. They all seemed rather busy at the moment, and looked like they could use a hand.

Seviin, for her part, did not hesitate one iota before arrowing straight for the overburdened washing station. There seemed to have been a bit of an incident there.

"It was a bad situation. Life is messy and its answers are unsatisfying," she concluded. Some people, like Seviin, would never truly be satisfied. They would seek to bend the very fabric of this cold, uncaring universe to their unattainable ideals, and it would snap back and break them when their strength inevitably ran out.

Yet, there was something special about Seviin. Her mindset was surely rare in the lands of Tarlon. She would be a good influence there, and the world of Sipenta was surely a slightly better place with her in it—and making the world a slightly better place was the best that most individual people could aspire to. Someday, she would stop damning every soul she met to hell to preserve her ego, but until then...

Xiuyang had dropped her illusions, and she was now recognizable. A few of the ladies did, and greeted her cheerily. There was a clear need for more hands, and though Xiuyang wasn't dressed for work, she decided that they were unlikely to talk with things being this busy.

Well, no. It wasn't that they wouldn't talk, but it would be rude. So, Xiuyang picked up a knife and began chopping some vegetables and making small talk with the woman beside her. Something... didn't feel right, though. Was the knife dull? She sharpened it a bit to be sure, but... no. It was strange. Did it always take this much force to cut through these? Wait, was this how she always held a knife?

"Xiuyang? Is something wrong? Your technique is off today, and your hands are slow."

"Uh, yeah. Sorry." She flashed an apologetic smile.

"Oh, but just look at you! Sweetie, you look deathly ill. Please, sit a spell."

"Uh... huh. Um, sure. I guess I'm in the way..."

It would have been impossible to notice earlier, when the colors around Xiuyang were made dull to make her look like a peasant. Now, contrasted with her colorful clothes, she truly did look like she was going to be sick.

After a moment, all she could hear was the rhythmic sound of knives hitting cutting boards, and the persistent noise of the pocketwatch ticking away.

That "bad situation" was your fault—and so is this one.

She looked around for the redheaded woman, but didn't see her—

No! It was not her fault! She was the only one trying to deescalate!

You weren't trying to "deescalate." You were trying to get your "plan" back on track. Who said "kill them all?"

She tried to remember the name that was on the tip of her tongue—

She'd panicked, and it had been a blur. But Seviin and Ashon would never say that.

Who said it?

It had two syllables—

Niallus, Lunara and Oksana wouldn't.

Who?

Abdel couldn't have.

It was you.

Thantra! The name was Thantra—had she overheard someone say it just now—?!

They were to die anyway! The plan was to capture them, to cut off their escape! The courts would have sentenced them! They made their appointment with Eshiran—she'd simply rescheduled it.

You made yourself judge, and worse, you made your friends executioners.

Every abomination that woman committed was on your orders.


"Is she alright?"

"No, she—"

Xiuyang stumbled through the line of people standing in her way, excusing herself out the back, desperately searching for a tree or barrel or wall to lean on while she tried to soothe herself chemically—to stop herself from puking. She had only considered the optimal outcome, and not the consequence of failure, as it would be the Colas who bore it—or so she thought. She had been wrong. She had sought answers for her actions, and, like Seviin, come away unsatisfied.



Minutes passed and Xiuyang returned, the merciless pocketwatch in her hand. "Thantra... I need to find her. Where is she..?" she rasped.

"Good gracious, Xiuyang!" Saydii came hustling around the corner and leaned over the smaller human girl. She was middle-aged and stern-faced, but always one of the first to offer help to anyone in need. "Are you okay!?" She regarded the evidence to the contrary, but then the teen rasped her question.

Selkhan came around a moment later, soap bubbles still in his ample beard. "Who'ssat?" he blurted in his rough hegelan mannerism. Saydii, patting Xiuyang reassuringly on the back, looked up. "Thantra." She looked up at Selkhan and her voice was concerned. She turned back to her charge, gradually ushering the girl back around a corner to a table where she could sit and have a glass of water. "We're all worried about 'er, lass. Ye've not seen her. 'Ave ye?"

Oweyn looked up from where he was tending to a cauldron nearby. "You know something about Thantra?" he seemed very interested. "I didn't know you two had even met."

"We thought she was at the Fascino kitchen," added Saydii, "but they hadn't seen her there either."

Seviin, over at the dishes station, looked up as if to ask if this was something she should be involved in as a handful of them gathered. "Ih's been three days." Selkhan shook his head. "She almost never misses one," Oweyn added.

"I'll be okay," Xiuyang told herself as much as Saydii. For the moment, she was among friends, and she allowed herself to relax somewhat as she sat at the table. "No, we've never met, but I've heard her name before." The water was unusually refreshing, almost invigorating. Had she drank anything besides alcohol the past two days? She chugged it like she'd chug any beer, and it was gone in a flash.

"I've been trying to find someone who went missing: Jaxan, the Doridax kid. Thantra was supposed to be the last person who saw him, but if they both went missing around the same time a few days ago, then I really have to find her. When you last saw her, did she talk about him at all? Did she express any interest in new places, groups, or hobbies? Was she unusually quiet? Irritable? Sad?" the youth rattled off. "Anything that stuck out to you, even a little bit. Please," she pleaded.

They sat there at the table. There was much to do, so they had perhaps only a minute or two. Seviin, finished with a stack of plates, came hustling over to join them, sliding in quietly and propping her elbows attentively on the tabletop.

"Jaxan'suul'doridax," snorted Saydii, and the other two nodded slowly. "Now there's a name. He's missing?"

"Aye," confirmed Selkhan. "I've 'eard it."

Oweyn shrugged, knowing nothing but not disputing either. "She seemed on edge," he allowed, "The last time I saw her."

"Why do you think?" questioned Seviin, and he shook his head. "Hard to say," he admitted. "She didn't seem to wanna talk about it."

"It's Tarlon, sweetie," said Saydii, patting Oweyn's hand. "Normally, I'd have kept this in confidence -" She turned to take in all parties gathered. "But it seems like she's gotten herself wrapped up in something bad." She swallowed. "She mentioned that there were Tarlonese agents active, including a girl who she'd known when they were children and an 'Apple Seller'." She furrowed her brow. "She was very specific about the last one." She glanced around. "I'm not sure what it means."

Seviin froze and her eyes widened. "I know," she squeaked, taking a second to clear her throat. She shook her head as well. "That's a Tarlonese recruiter. They target people to bring them into the cause: people who aren't already part of it, like Con'soi, huusoi, siisoi, and... well, defectors." She looked around at the others. "They're clever," she warned, "Cunning and subtle and strong. None of you saw who she was talking about, right?"

They all shook their heads.

Xiuyang took it all in, and whistled. She gave Seviin a knowing look; the two of them had probably dodged a bullet, leaving the man with the bag alone. "Do you think Thantra could have gotten involved with them? Or the resistance?" she asked everyone around. She didn't mention Jaxan's potential involvement in it yet, so as not to lead the witnesses, so to speak. It seemed this conflict went deeper than she realized, and was coming to a head, with every yasoi in the area being forced to choose a side. Which side would Thantra be on, then, was the question that could lead her to Jaxan.

"I know it affected her a lot," said Oweyn. We... talked about it."

"Aye. She wanted te stay neutral." Selkhan nodded along.

"She was volunteering with the Red Pentact as well," Saydii offered. "Close to St. Vitus' and the rooming house across the street."

"Addiction counseling," Seviin remarked. "I wanted to work there too, but I sound too Tarlonese. They thought it might upset some people."

"She's Tarlonese too!" Selkhan humphed.

"Yeah, but she's been living here a while," Oweyn countered. "She doesn't really sound like it."

"You know," offered Seviin, "I heard they had an incident there the other day," She glanced about. "Timewalker came and started generating darkling for all the addicts." She scowled.

"When?" prodded Saydii.

"Orredes."

"Thah's the lass day we saw Thantra, wasn't ih?"

They all nodded, eyes wide and minds racing.

"Out near St. Vitus and the rooming house?"

Seviin rose quickly. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "From what I'd heard!"

Before anyone else could react, however, there came a loud clatter from one of the tables and the sounds of arguing. "Op!" barked Selkhan, rising quickly. "Thah's me!" he began to hurry off. Oweyn rose too. "I hope you find her," he assured Xiuyang and Seviin, preparing to depart as well. Work was piling up. Saydii began to rise, shooting the two a concerned look before glancing over her shoulder.

Xiuyang had refilled her glass with water and chugged it several times as the conversation continued. "Fuck," she whispered as she rose from the table and excused herself. "Thank you. Sorry I can't help right now," she told the others.

She gave Seviin a concerned, almost defeated look. She headed in the direction of their next destination, ensuring they were out of earshot before she continued. "The Colas mentioned Jaxan could generate aberrations. I'd hate to assume he's responsible for what happened at the Red Pentact, but it makes sense. We should—go there—" She sounded uncertain. "—and, ask about what they saw." Her voice was raspy, too.

Seviin nodded and squeezed her shoulder. "We should," she replied with a supportive half-smile. "Posthaste."

The two of them rushed through the bustling streets of the city beneath the city, faces and buildings flashing past, both boosting their speed and reflexes with the Gift. As they drew close to the shelter district, Seviin held up a hand and began to slow. She took a moment to start composing herself, fixing the neckline of her dress and running fingers quickly through her long white hair.

The Red Pentact stood beside the church, with a large tent to house both additional afflicted and healers. These, in turn, just across from the notorious Warm Rest women's rooming house. Just down the street lay St. Vitus' Shelter for the Impoverished, Infirm, and Afflicted and, in the opposite direction, loomed a diagonal intersection with the Searoad and, just up a bit from there, the Seagate and white walls of Ersand'Enise, somehow casting a shadow over this place despite it being the wrong time of day.

That was not what would've caught the pair's eyes first, however. There were three young women: one human, one yasoi, and one eeaiko, talking quickly ouside of the rooming house. It was hard to miss that the first was Oksana.

Xiuyang recoiled slightly at the unexpected touch. Suddenly, Seviin's behavior had changed. Had she been watching? ...Of course she would have been. It wasn't hard to recognize that she hadn't earned Seviin's trust.

What was she feeling right now? Was it shame? What exactly was Seviin mad about, anyway? Her actions, or how she tried to justify them? It occurred to her that she hadn't asked. She shook her head as if to clear her mind of cobwebs. All of this could wait until they knew what had happened to Jaxan and Thantra. Time was precious and fleeting.

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?"

Xiuyang exhaled a completely silent breath of relief. The color didn't quite return to her face, though. "...N-No. We should check it out." Her eyes evaded the two women as she reached for her gourd.

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?"

Xiuyang took it all in, much as she tried not to—she simply couldn't tear her eyes away from all the misery. In particular, the yasoi girl who seemed completely absent of heart and mind gnawed at her. The urge to offer her comfort was painful in its futility.

Xiuyang, after her fashion, offered a bow of respect as she made the sign of Oraff. "We are here to help, though not to volunteer—at a more opportune time, perhaps," she lied, though without malice. "We're trying to track down someone who's gone missing, who may be responsible or have gotten tangled up in the incident that took place here. I was hoping for a... moment of your time, to... d-discuss..." Xiuyang was shaking slightly. "T-That is, if you are amenable, as I'm sure it was quite trau— troublesome." She smiled tightly, as if to apologize for the hassle of an interview.

One aberration-addled yasoi was locked on to Xiuyang with a vacant, slack-jawed gaze, gawking at her like he'd just seen something supernatural. He was, of course, probably just coincidentally looking in her direction at something none but him could see, but Xiuyang almost seemed to be making a point of not meeting his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't there—all the while, her breaths became subtly uneven, her pulse had quickened slightly, and the nausea began to make its foul return. She swallowed, exhaling deeply, trying her best to hide her discomfort. This is fine, she told herself. This is Ersand'Enise. This is a place of healing, and not... death. She tried not to dwell on how that wasn't a wholly accurate picture.

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.

Xiuyang pondered for a moment. Would they get paid? After all, the ransom note had been a scam, and if this search became a criminal investigation into their son's activities, they would likely end up empty-handed. "We were given a ransom to pay and a drop-off point, but the ransom letter was a trap. Jaxan was never there. I'm not sure if they will pay us in the end. The situation continues to get more complicated, perhaps more than they'd like." She decided to tell the woman only what she knew for certain. If that happened to be what she wanted to hear, then that was a happy coincidence. "I'm not worried about money right now. My concern is the safety of the citizens of both Ersand'Enise and Belleville." She decided to use the polite name. The worst it would earn her is the usual favorite insults: naive, out of touch, high horse...

The nun pursed her lips. Her eyes went between Seviin and Xiuyang. "Sister Taxoiya, do you trust this... ally of yours completely?"

Seviin swallowed and her eyes went Xiuyang's way. "Her name is Salomé, Mother Gracie." She shook her head. "I do not trust her completely." She held up a hand to forestall further comment. "She is emotionally unstable, prone to panicked responses, and indulges in self-destructive habits and thought patterns. However, I trust none but Mother Oirase herself wholeheartedly. I believe that Salomé holds good in her heart above self-advancement. She has come into this with genuine motivations, without political agenda, and will not betray a confidence given to her." The priestess bowed her head, her long whitish hair falling like curtains to either side of it. "She is an imperfect being, as we all are, but she is trying to do good, even if she does not always succeed."

"A simple yes or no might've sufficed," the abbess replied. She glanced over her shoulder, keeping tabs on a handful of different matters being attended to. "Very well," she said quickly, clasping her hands together in a businesslike manner. "Sister Taxoiya and I do not share the same beliefs, but she is ever an honest soul. If she will vouch for you, Salomé, then you have my trust in this matter." She nodded and a sonic bubble dropped over them.

"Thantra'luuren'woi'etaar is well, though quite distressed. She was volunteering with us last Orredes, when we received word of an aberration outbreak close to here. As you do, Seviin, she struggles with the actions of her country and is ever wishing to make up for this original sin that is not hers to account for." Mother Gracie shook her head. "Given how prodigiously strong she is in the Gift, she volunteered to handle the problem. It was, in short, Jaxan once more." She nibbled her lower lip and her eyes flashed about for a moment.

"Once... more?" Seviin questioned.

The abbess nodded. "Just so," she sighed. "He is wealthy and his heart is not bad, but much troubles him: many feelings of inadequacy and guilt - a desire to be appreciated that his parents either cannot or will not satisfy, a sense that he has escaped only because of his name while others suffer. He creates aberrations for these and numbs himself with them too." She gestured with her chin at some of the aberration-addled figures being tended to.

Xiuyang lowered her gaze as soon as the woman asked. She knew what Seviin thought of her... or, she thought she did. Unstable emotions, self-destructive thoughts... Had she been told something like that before?



The Soiree

The Soiree had left Cal feeling merry. He’d conversed with more people than he’d anticipated, including his Tarlonese brethren, but there was one he’d yet to speak to, as they were otherwise engaged throughout the entire affair. A strange girl that’d become the topic of much controversy during the trials, and a victim at the hands of Juulet. Still, her interest in the Yasoi had not dwindled and he had to ask - why? After suffering at the hands of the crazed mad avatar, why did her positions not change? It was a worthy question - Tku held simple curiosity toward the world as a whole but Xiuyang had been particularly taken from what he’d seen - she’d even had feelings towards Jamboi - which was another burning question for him.

He’d thought she might have wanted to converse during the party, but other affairs had stood in the way of that, and so, it was on the walk back that he found her. He was always careful not to approach people from behind, or with pace. Intimidation was a useful social tactic, but that was not a smart move to probe for honest answers to his curiosity. Still, it was hard to register that someone who had suffered so much recently would ever be alone, though he supposed company didn’t matter much in the presence of a monster like that girl.

“I’m surprised you’d walk alone after the incident. Would you like an escort?” he asked politely, moving to walk in stride with her.

”Oh, Cal. I knew I was forgetting someone.” Xiuyang smiled up at him sheepishly, instinctively slowing down to allow him to follow, before remembering that he was probably the tallest man on campus and such consideration was hardly necessary for him to keep up. “I’m not going far. It’s just getting a little crowded, you know?” She jerked her head over her shoulder at the guards gathered by the front door. “I don’t mind the company, though. I’d been meaning to talk to you about that Blue Ice you gave me.”

”Glowing reviews, I hope.” he smiled with a jokey tone and offered his arm for her to take. A bit of an awkward position given the difference in height, but it was still the gentlemanly thing to do, even if she happened to have a partner. ”I think we made good timing, considering the circumstances. Seems like there’s some nasty business afoot, would you happen to know something about that” he asked with genuine curiosity. Many rumors circulated around the girl, and he found that those who managed to keep their secrets often kept other peoples. He doubted this presence was a noise complaint - and he figured she might have a clue as to what it is.

Xiuyang nodded. ”It kept me calm and focused while I pieced together how Shadow Wizards were cheating. Though I’m sure it didn’t look like it—I was pissed,” she admitted. ”A bit strong for someone my size, though,” she japed, politely declining his arm. She turned back to look at Zarina’s front door again, hastening her steps just slightly. ”Hopefully it’s nothing more than another reminder that there is to be no fun allowed until further notice, on account of some rowdy Perrench. I’m not taking my chances, though. Anything more than that would be a shit show.” Privately, she wondered if they were here for her, to find some excuse to have her expelled. How long would it be until she became the next student to be punished to appease the mob?

Cal smoothly pulled his arm away. A foolish gesture to a woman in a relationship, but one he’d have offered regardless on a night time walk. It piqued his interest though with just how politicized this girl had become. Still, her comments were useful. Less purity perhaps? Or a dosage tailored to the individual? Alas, the second half interested him more. Was it recent experiences that had galvanized her? And if so, why did she not hold the same hatred towards his people? She’d been maimed and left to die by Juulet, but a few jeers of nationalists and she’d turned face heel remarkably fast. Was it right to comment?

“I see recent events have changed your perceptions of a rather large portion of our student body. Pardon me if it’s still a fresh wound, but do you feel the same way about us?” there was a look of genuine curiosity on the Yasoi’s face in regards to this matter. Just how much damage had she done to their reputation.

Xiuyang returned Cal a strange look. ”I’ve always thought that kind of tribalist nonsense was stupid,” she replied, bemused. ”It just wasn’t a problem that needed to be taken seriously until recently, I suppose.” Finding an appropriate bench to sit on—neither too close nor too far away from Zarina’s place—she decided to rest her legs a bit. “Only history can judge if the ideals a country is built upon were good or not, or better than this or that country’s. If they aren’t, it will become corrupt and crumble from within just fine with no need for war to prove anything. People who are alive and in the present should just shut the fuck up, put their flags down and cooperate for mutual gain, if you ask me—but here I am, the quarter-Rettanese, quarter-Torragonese, half-Revidian, so of course I would say that tying your identity to a flag is useless.”

She sighed, slouching in her seat as she gazed up at the moons. ”I asked her multiple times if she just hates Yanii, or if she did what she did to somehow ‘prove’ that I’m not sincere. I’m not sure I believe her, but it hardly matters. She’s just a psycho bitch and those are cross-cultural. Her actions don’t shape me,” she asserted—but Juulet did change her. The Yasoi were not just another race of humans, they were their own species—she knew this, but she still couldn’t help but see them as human, and deserving of human empathy. The ones who were taken away by aberrations, however… she nervously rubbed at the hem of her dress as she recalled those eyes, and the way they looked at her like she was just a piece of meat. Those eyes were devoid of empathy, human or otherwise.

”But they do color the perceptions of others. You can’t imagine how much finger-wagging I had to endure from my father, or how much convincing it took for my mother to stop demanding that I try another school. Then there’s all the people I thought were cool coming out of the woodwork to congratulate me on finally getting a boyfriend. ‘Oh, wow! You’re dating a human after all!’ Like they’re congratulating me on getting over some kind of mental disease!” she fumed. ”Obviously, if the tree-rider isn’t dating a Yasoi, you know they’re no good, right? Hey, did you know? Among humans, the ‘tree-rider’ label comes with a bonus label of ‘loose woman.’ I still get a couple booty calls a month from boys I’ve never even talked to before. Yeah, nobody warned me about that when I signed up.” She ranted and raved, but then she laughed. ”Like it’s a school club, the Tree-Riders’ Committee..!” she wheezed and coughed as she caught her breath. ”I might’ve drank a bit,” she confessed in a low voice, nonchalantly.

He sat down next to her and listened intently. For all she played the mysterious rumor-gathering woman, she’d come completely undone in recent times, and was very much an open book with just a touch of questioning. Then, when she finished speaking, he smiled and turned to her, ”Some people say alcohol makes you tell the truth, but it doesn’t. It simply lowers inhibition. The thoughts inside our head that we’d usually keep private come pouring out, and the desire to stop having another drink slips away from us.” he tapped the top of his head, and continued. “But you lied to yourself there. Juulet isn’t a psycho. She’s an addict. She’s a person, like you or me.” he paused, raising a finger. “We can’t un-personify her because she’s a failure, even if she disgusts us.” his tone lowered.

“...She certainly didn’t offer much consideration for my own ‘personhood,’” Xiuyang replied bitterly, gazing off into the distance with unfocused eyes. “There’s more going on in there than a lack of inhibitions.”

Cal pinched his brow, and his face shifted to one of solemn disappointment. “I’m probably the foremost practitioner of chemical magic in the school, and one thing that still evades my understanding is aberrations. It’s easy to understand alcohol, or the substances I gave out during the trials, but the curse of the darkmen does not fall under the same set of rules.” he leant his chin on his hand, looking at Xiuyang more inquisitively. She may have said that Juulet did not change her, but she bore her face more openly in public now. She’d acquired a relationship, changed her stance on many issues and the readings he got from her mind suggested a good deal of trauma. “I take it you saw, right? The way it affects the Consoi? The things they’d do for another fix?” he asked, before shaking his head.

“...Yeah,” she replied simply, digging her nails into her thigh uncomfortably. It still didn’t quite feel real. She was going to die, and then Eshiran answered her call. Then she was going to die in the desert, and the gods seemed to have abandoned her, and then Tyrel and the others came, and Ciro was there, and then she was in the arms of her mother with most of the damage done to her body undone, but the secret still had to come out to her family—would she now go back to her student life as if none of it happened? It was all entirely too surreal and too much to process all at once. The one thing that stuck in her mind above all was the trauma of being hunted for nearly two days, and seeing what that first addict who approached her intended to do before she’d proven herself a threat—

”Apologies, I didn’t mean to bring up such a nasty subject.” his face returned to that smile, and his tone picked up, but it was slightly unnerving in how quick and unnatural it was.. ”Do you care about what they think?” it was a sincere question, and a rather all encompassing one, but there was genuine curiosity there.

”About me? Not really. I care that they hate the yasoi,” Xiuyang replied. ”and that they lie and try to hide it because they don’t want to lose me as a contact.” She frowned. ”I don’t want Ciro to face scrutiny because of me, either. He’s a good man. He deserves better than to be known as ‘the one dating the slut.’”

’And why are we so important to you, that you care about what they think about us but not about yourself?’ he thought to himself, letting her finish the point. He stood up from the bench and stretched his arms out. ”Xiuyang, not to claim to understand you or belittle your thoughts and feelings, but it sounds like you’re confused.” he spoke softly, turning back to meet her gaze. “It’s paradoxical to claim you don’t care what they say or think about you, and then care that Ciro might face scrutiny because of it.” there was a brief pause before he continued, trying to gauge her reaction further.

”I can choose to not feel hurt by what they say, but not everyone is like that,” she replied. ”It’s embarrassing to spell it out, but isn’t thinking of others before yourself supposed to be a virtue?”

”I don’t think that’s a good way to live, Xiuyang. If you’re going to tether your self worth to another person, then what happens if they stop being a part of your life?” he asked, his voice filled with sympathy. It was… almost condescending, but there was genuine curiosity there as well. ”You’re a lady of three nations, and you’ve already stated that tying yourself to a flag is foolishness, but isn’t the idea the same?”

”I don’t think it’s the same. A country will never see you as more than a tool, to be discarded when you no longer serve their interests. Love is different. We both support each other.” She leaned back in her seat a bit. ”If I start acting more like a proper lady, it won’t be because some rabble gave me a hard time.” Her mind drifted back to just a moment ago, when she’d slapped Raffaella across the face for insulting Ciro.

”Xiuyang…it’s exactly the same.” he disagreed with her, shaking his head. ”Both types of relationships are mutually beneficial, but they’re based on the same individual desire: To not be alone, to feel supported.” He paced slightly, looking toward the Soiree and then to her. ”To help others, you must first help yourself. And if you can’t do that, then aren’t you just a burden to the thing that you love? Making them bear the weight of your sins? Having them suffer as a result of your reputation?” he paused in place, meeting her gaze again. This time, he would not look away.

Xiuyang shrugged nonchalantly. ”Maybe yasoi countries are different. Ours are self-serving. Always have been,” she asserted. ”You want to be in a mutually beneficial relationship with a government, you have to have something to offer. I’m just a third daughter; I don’t have that kind of influence.” She met his eyes, as though they were a challenge. ”I know how the world works. When I help others, I am helping myself. When I help myself, I am helping others. Always. If it’s not always obvious, that’s by design. Don’t they say, ‘the good you do, do it in secret, that the gods might reward you?’” She swatted a mosquito that landed on her wrist. ”I’ve done nothing to deserve the heat I’m getting, aside from keeping to myself and doing what’s right when some others think it’s wrong. Maybe I took an interest in the yasoi because Ashon became my friend when no one else volunteered themselves. Maybe it’s because my father told me to stay away, and I thought that was a crock of shit. Who can say? Why does it matter? Is it not right to offer aid to those scorned by ‘polite society?’” She eyed Cal with a calculating look. She couldn’t quite decipher the purpose of this conversation, but it almost certainly wasn’t out of concern for her well-being. The two barely knew each other. Was he, like Tyrel, looking for some nefarious ulterior motive? Was he trying to express his disapproval over something he couldn’t speak openly about?

Cal met her gaze, and simply smiled at her, in that same blank way as before. There was a long pause, and a moment of contemplation for the man. This girl was wrong. Maybe not in her intention, or her inner thoughts, whatever they were, but fundamentally, he felt as if he couldn’t disagree with her more. It irked him as to what he felt, whether it was hatred, discontent in her ideals, or whether what she was was a reflection of himself in some strange way. ”I can see why Ashon is your friend. You’re very much alike, you know?” he chuckled softly to himself, keeping the ambiguity in his words. ”Perhaps that was why I was so taken with this conversation. I apologize if I overstepped.” he bowed his head slightly, before turning away from the girl and looking up at the night sky.

"Okayy..?" Xiuyang found Cal's reaction confusing. "Now what does that mean?" She was nothing like Ashon, outside the surface personality. At least, she thought so... but she found herself reminded of the time she called herself a "sidekick" in front of him, and he'd seemed pretty unhappy about that. He'd challenged her notions of roles in life, and the one she was destined to play. No matter how hard she tried, though, Xiuyang just couldn't see herself as some kind of hero.

"Ah, I get it. Neither of us takes ourselves too seriously," she decided.



She had. She remembered. This was the third time a yasoi had challenged her way of thinking, and Yarsoc had been fresh on her mind the last time, too. Ashon, Cal, Seviin... were they right? The priestess continued speaking, and not one word of a lie was spoken, not one hunch or rumor or biased preconception had a place in her judgment. Where had she even heard the name Salome before? Her chest tightened as she tried not to choke up. For the first time since she met Ciro, she felt like someone truly understood her.

Xiuyang felt her assessment of Seviin vindicated. Like her, she wrestled with conflicting feelings about the agenda of Tarlon. As their elder continued speaking, she learned that this was not the first time Jaxan had done this, but she also got more than she bargained for. It seemed he also struggled with feelings of inadequacy and guilt regarding his privilege.



Get lost, rich girl! Go play with your 'real' friends!

Yeah, go be fat and lazy somewhere else!

Yeah, what she said!

I'm the third daughter of Cosimo Solari! I'll play where I please!

Ooh, third daughter. So important.

Who's gonna want you?

Yeah, who are you gonna marry, the postman?

Not a chance! I'll marry a gentleman. I'll do great things! The kind of things you'd read about, if you could read!




She couldn't be sure why she remembered the absurd insults of those children just now. A memory she had held on to from childhood that no longer carried any hurt, but proved a point: she had spent her entire life trying to justify her own existence.

It was at this point that Xiuyang noticed she had been crying without realizing it. Somehow, it seemed as if Seviin had lifted an agonizing weight off of her very soul. By insulting me, she noticed, absurdly.

Xiuyang pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to disguise her attempt to sweep away the tears with the Gift. This was not an appropriate time or place to let her emotions show. Seviin had just mentioned them, too. "...Can you tell me where he went?" She looked back at the woman. "If Thantra is with you, I'd rather leave her in your care and not disturb her. Jaxan... I'd like to talk to him. I won't force him to go home, but I think there are some things he needs to hear."

The yasoi that had been staring snored loudly, causing Xiuyang to jolt slightly and glance in his direction. She quickly looked back at the woman who had chosen to have faith in Seviin's judgment of her and forced her composure. "Please. As a... a former runaway, I know how it affected my parents." She rubbed the neck of her gourd anxiously. It was cool to the touch.

Seviin regarded Xiuyang steadily. Then she turned to face the abbess once more. "I would ask this as well, humbly, mother superior."

Mother Gracie blinked. "My dear girl. How I wish I could help, but she is not here and I cannot say for certain." The nun shook her head. "After the incident, they both disappeared."



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."



"And the trail goes cold?" Seviin asked, though it was more of a bitter pilled statement than a question.

"Not entirely," Mother Gracie allowed. "Yesterday, I received a letter from a young boy - a little hegelan boy - written in her hand." She shook her head again. "I've since burned it, but she told me where she was and she assured me that she was safe... for the time being." Her fingers untwined themselves and she raised a hand to bring pause. "Before you ask, I don't know the specifics, but she said that she was in a row house on Corner Street in Miller's Hook."

She regarded both of the young women who stood before her, laying a hand on Xiuyang's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Her eyes flicked briefly in Oksana's direction, but the girl appeared quite occupied in her own right. "Good fortune," said the abbess, decoupling from them as she took stock of what others outside of their bubble were doing. Presently, the sonic barrier began to lift. "May Shune and Reshta be with you."

"Thank you," Xiuyang replied, nodding her respect and gratitude. "Oraff keep you." She left, with enough haste to seem urgent but not enough to be rude. Being outside gave her visible relief—perhaps the other two as well, as though some invisible tension in the air had gone away. "Should we try to find any of the others, or just go?" She chugged again while she waited for Seviin's opinion.

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!"

Xiuyang looked back at the commotion, completely baffled. A girl who had just a moment ago been unable to so much as feed herself had been allowed to leave the care of others, and was now talking, and walking, no, running away with her classmate. Instinctively, she drew in energy, but then she hesitated. Instead of using that energy to stop the girl, she used it to give pursuit. She seemed to have decided that Oksana was not in any real danger.

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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They had sensed her and, from this, there could be no return. The door did not open to their knocks but, to their surprise, Ashon, Abdel, and Johann found it unlocked and beckoning them inside. The house was dark and dingy, curtains drawn, visibility minimal. There was some nice furniture, but it was worn and, in some places, damaged. Recent attempts at cleaning could not mask the deep-set stench or neglect and, a keen eye would notice signs of a recent altercation: a chair missing a leg, a shattered glass lantern swept into a corner, a door restored unexpertly to its hinges with fresh nails, bracing beams, and putty. Only light or a very keen sense for chemical magic would reveal the bloodstains.

Then, she was there: the one-legged woman who had to be the Tarlonese agent. She was young - no older than Ashon - and pretty, with freckles and long ever-so-slightly wavy red hair, big grey-blue eyes, and a lithe, athletic figure. There was no missing her dishevelled look, however. Her hair was greasy, hastily swept back, and there were bags under her eyes. A ragged rip showed along one flank of her shirt, and the singular knee of her shiny black tights. She was seated on an easy chair, regarding the interlopers warily. She had been so still as to have gone unnoticed at first. "I guess it was only a matter of time," she said, in a distinct Tarlonese accent. "You know, he didn't give me a choice. Please don't be like him." She was, for anyone who might've recognized her, Thantra'luuren'woi'etaar. She was, for anyone who might've recognized it, brimming with recently-drawn energy.

Niallus, meanwhile, had rebuffed the Resistance's attempt to establish trust and rushed off to pursue a woman who he was certain was Cherii'cola. Upon losing her trail, he had given up and now found himself trying sneak into what had been offered freely and declined. The moment that he made for the basement door, he found at least four sets of eyes on him. “That's the Tansoan Culture Club down there, elar,” said one of the people at the tables, firmly. “You need to be a member to enter.”

Dory and Lunara stood there on a small street just off of the Searoad, at loggerheads. The latter had ruined a plan of the former with her intervention, and Dory was busy silently resenting her for it. Lunara found herself suspicious of the apparent victims of a yasoi attack. They glanced at each other, the first only responding once his partner was fully healed. If Dory had been a pleasant surprise, this one reeked of Ersand'Enise, the way she questioned them. "Just scaring some Resistance spook outta here." He shook his head. "Ever since the knife-ears started pouring in, they've brought their crime and addiction and filth to our neighbourhoods," confirmed the second. "Not even safe for my sister and her kids to go out without an escort anymore." The first man nodded. "We're keeping the place safe, and your friend here helped us." He shot Dory a tight, appreciative smile. This, then, was where they stood.

The other girls, meanwhile - Xiuyang, Oksana, and Seviin - were not standing at all. After darting and dodging through the busy streets in the shadow of the White Walls, they arrived barely more than a minute after the boys, having seen their allies and counterparts enter the row house as they were still hurrying towards it. They had Maribet with them and, if partially recovered from her stupor upon breaking through her conversion disorder, she was still in something of a haze and vulnerable. More importantly, perhaps, they possessed vital information that Abdel, Johann, and Ashon did not. The former - the only one who might recognize Thantra - was just ahead of them with his skuggvars, reaching out with his senses as they arrived. Whether or not they were too late remained to be seen...

The final chapter of Ransom Demand begins now!




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An End to Passivity



The island was alight with action as the student's plan was put into motion. Kaleo wouldn’t sit back and let children fight his battles, even if the student’s ‘neutral’ allegiances put them in a unique position to bring change. Warriors extinguished their fires, gathered their weapons, and steeled themselves for the challenges ahead. They were to sail out and fight the pirates to present themselves as Virang’s allies when the Tarlonese turned their cannons. There would be enough plausible deniability to avoid future conflicts.

Kaleo said his goodbyes to his family. To Tiare and Leilani, there was an assurance that he would be back. To Kanani, the message was the same but both knew the result didn’t entirely rest in his hands. To Tamatoa, the king gave him wishes of fortune and health. The prince would be sailing out too and it would be the first big battle the boy had seen.

With that, Kaleo picked up his large, ivory hook and wrapped the woven rope around his arm. He took great care to ensure the rope held firm but didn’t constrict. The weapon was now part of himself, little more than an extension of his hand.

He rose to speak to his warriors. In Moatu Suva, elevating oneself on podiums and stages to communicate status was looked down upon. Nobles, even kings, were to stand on an equal level with their people and earn the consideration they drew. Kaleo had no trouble with this, his unusual height put him a head above most.

"Warriors of Moatu Suva! Those who call themselves friend and brother to these islands! Hear me!" No head in the encampment was turned away. "We sail out to push these pirates from our land and bring peace once more to our home. Too long have we sat here and waited for our moment, we will not let it pass us by. We sail to support Virang, but you know what you fight for, you know who you fight for. Sail out with them in your hearts and spare not our might for those who would stop us." A responding cheer cried and the warriors picked up their pace.

Abdel sat by the fire sparing few glances at what was happening around him. The pink-haired girl had gone along with the other students leaving him to the hostile locals. Alone and vulnerable to the whims of these people who readied for war left the boy with one question: What was to become of him? Prince Tamatoa approached the same campfire and crouched in front of the Virang swabbie. He smiled with something of an amused expression, but Abdel knew there was some plasticity to it given their previous exchange.

"Looks like we’ll be sailing out to fight for Virang after all." Tamatoa gave no apology to the boy, but spoke like ‘all’s well that ends well’. "As far as I see it, that gives you a choice. You can either sail out with us and rejoin the fight or you can stay here until it's all over. Up to you." He gave a shrug, truthfully the answer didn’t matter much to the prince.

Abdel looked dumbfounded. Less than an hour ago that same prince was trying to force him back into the battle by spearpoint and now he was just given the choice like it was nothing? He didn’t believe the prince's nonchalance. What this a choice or was he being toyed with?

Tamatoa was watching the boy think and think and not voice any answer. "It is your choice whether to join this fight and rejoin your countrymen. I won’t force you to risk your life further, no one else here will either."

For a moment, Abdel let his thoughts wander as his gaze fell into the campfire. The heat flared as the wood cracked and fell away to the flames. Tamatoa wasn’t being entirely honest, but he couldn’t tell where that dishonesty lay. Maybe it was time to consider the question itself, if it was a trick then let the consequences be damned.

"No."

"No, I think I’ll stay if I can."

Tamatoa clapped both hands against his knees and stood. "Then you may stay."

"We’re putting out the campfires to avoid the risk of it catching on the grass. We’ll leave this one though, so keep an eye on it." The prince walked off without an answer or a second word.

Abdel sunk back into thought. There would likely be consequences if his captain or anyone else on the Altın Oğul heard about the answer he gave. He chose to stay on shore while his countrymen spilt blood on the seas. But he had seen what was happening out there, mages fought while people like him tried their best not to die. All he could ever be out there was a plaything for those who could bend the world to their will. He was sick of it, sick of feeling helpless to them. Maybe it was the same thing here, but at least his life would remain.

He looked up from the fire only to see the smile of a young native girl inches from his face. "Hi!" said Tiare.



A haka took place in front of the ships ready on the water. Voices cried in call for war as hands provided percussion against bodies willingly consigned to the risks of battle. It was a rallying cry to the warriors of Moatu Suva and their hearts beat at an equal pace. A mind unready for battle could give in to its stresses and falter; it almost always caused troubles for brothers-in-arms. The warriors would suffer no such mistake.

Queen Kanani and Princess Leilani sat a few steps from the shore on dry, sizeable rocks that provided ample view of the departing wakas. Kanani spared a glance back to the camp where she could see Tiare chasing around the Virangish boy Tamatoa brought in. Perhaps she should be worried, the sailor boy was almost twice the girl’s size after all. But Tiare had just begun to develop her magical abilities and had the most potential out of her three kids; the boy posed no real threat by comparison. Perhaps she should need to intervene and save the boy at some point from her hellraiser of a daughter, she tittered at the thought.

Her daughter’s eyes toward the water spoke of worry and not for her family alone. It was not a pleasant night, but it wouldn’t be the last the princess would see. Among the better things, life was also full of turmoil, turns, and trouble. She did her daughter no favours by sheltering her from the reality of war. Leilani had been distant and contemplative most of the night, but that only increased since she wandered off and spoke with the Eeaiko girl. Another person to care about only increased worry when blood stained the air and water.

"I can see when matters play at your mind. You have the words but often lack the moments where you feel you can speak." Kanani set a supporting hand on her daughter's lap. "It’s just us now. Speak your mind."

It took Leilani a moment. "She isn’t a bad person, you know..."

"I know. And you kept it from her all the same."

"I shouldn’t have..."

"Yes, you should have." The queen pointed out to the boats growing more distant by the second. "They sail out to defend what they hold dear and you did the same. Not all battles are fought with muscle and weapons, not all battles require blood, you’ll learn this in time.’

’You didn’t do it because you resent the girl, I know your heart goes with her. You did it because you had something worth protecting. Keep that purpose in mind."

"... If you had something more to protect, would you do that to me?"

Kanani wrapped her daughter in a hug and pat her head. "Of that my daughter, you have nothing to worry about."

Leilani paused. "Why did I have to choose though? I didn’t want to do that."

"It was a decision with no good outcomes. With any luck, the girl will leave here without a lifelong burden on her shoulders."

Leilani didn’t respond.

"When conflict is brought upon you, it can be easy to ask questions. Why has this this happened? Why would they do this? But you need to remember that it is a person behind those actions, one presented with an ugly choice just like you were. Remember that girl and remember that. Because when you cease to see a person behind the actions taken against you, it sets only the stage for cruelty."





There are those with ideals and those who don't have the luxury


Cawuio-Zast sat atop his gunpowder barrel with a grin. How long had this battle gone on? In reality, it was likely ten minutes that had gone by. But the pace of his heart made it seem an hour. A couple of cannonballs had come dangerously close to his head. He should have known that Anthal and Enoxii, the two Yasoi on defence, would spare no effort to keep him alive. But that hardly mattered. All that did was leave it to chance and Zast was the world's best gambler. He would never lose, he would never die.

Then, in the quiet between fire, Zast heard a horn blaring across the waters. It was difficult to see what exactly was approaching among the smoke and moving ships so he pulled out a comically large spyglass fit for an Ogauraq to get a closer look. Native ships were approaching the scene of battle and he couldn’t tell whether they sailed to fight the Virangish or his side. He was giddy with excitement.

He looked up and saw that someone else had also taken notice.



Kaleo stood at the lead boat with a hand braced against the mast. The smaller ship cut swiftly through the waters and was closing the gap to join the fight. The white water splashing of the threshers could present some problem but he had faith in the men of the ship. Any child of Moatu Suva was born to the seas, they need only worry if their wakas got sunk. The fleet of smaller ships assumed a spread formation to avoid oncoming fire.

Suddenly, something above caught the attention of his crew. The king looked up to see a man flying high. It was a powerful mage that they had drawn the attention of, no doubt of that, and that mage was approaching at rapid speeds.

"Brace for impact!"


Anthal Sr., the captain of the Blue Adam, dropped upon the king’s boat with incredible speed and force. The man was a bullet set to pierce through the king’s ship. The Yasoi pirate swung around to stomp down on the deck but meet the king’s massive hook first. Immense kinetic energy poured from Anthal’s momentum into the strike but he looked shocked as he sensed some of that energy being drained away unnaturally. Kaleo’s hook was sapping the force out of the attack.

But too little, too late. Anthal smiled as a shockwave exploded around them. Immediately the king’s waka snapped in half while ten other nearby ships also flipped over into the water. All of the men, including the king, dropped into the sea while Anthal remained floating a little above the surface to survey the environment.

The captain was just about invincible. There wasn’t a single fighter on these ships that could stand toe-to-toe with him. As far as he saw it, they were like any other Yanii dogs playing at the basics of magic. They couldn’t hold a candle to the flame of his proficiency and power. But their cannons still posed a threat to his ship, it was his best option to take them out here before any of them got into range.

The wakas in the distance were staggered and unsure how to respond to the captain’s opening assault. Some floundered, some came in to save those who had fallen in the water, and others turned aside to sail around and continue toward the fight. He would deal with th-

splash

From one of the shattered halves of the king’s ship, a large arm emerged from the water and gripped its side. King Kaleo pulled himself up onto the remains of his waka and stood firm. He and his men were lucky that the blast also spooked away the threshers; they were safe from becoming fish food. His head followed the Yasoi captain as he floated circles around him over the water. He unfurled the hook’s rope from around his arm.

"Don’t do anything you’re going to regret." Anthal called across to the lone king. The man Anthal saw in front of him was somewhat more impressive than the warriors he called company. Still, he couldn’t have been much higher than 7.5 RAS. The king would sign his death warrant by fighting now.

Anthal turned away to see that many wakas were starting to get past and drew the risk of joining the fight. He drew kinetic energy around him, from stay cannon fire, from the warriors swimming away, from the thresher’s erotic frenzy, then launched himself toward the new frontrunners of Moatu Suva.

Suddenly, an acute pressure caught his ankle as he stopped immediately. The hook had been thrown and drained his kinetic energy with the contact. The rope was pulled taut by the king and Antal was yanked back into the fight toward the waters. Despite the immense force, there was no kinetic energy employed by the king. It was all muscle.

Anthal Sr. crashed into the other half of the king’s waka and used the kinetic he had left over to guard him from the impact. It went from a lethal blow to light bruising at best.

Kaleo unlatched the hook from the captain's ankle and he pulled it back to himself. He took a fighting stance and raised his weapon like a one-handed club. Anthal stood in turn. The two leaders were little more than fifty metres from each other, divided by a small stretch of water.

"You could have avoided all this. All you had to do was sit this out and your island would be free. Don’t think I’m unaware of the hold the Virangish have over you. The seas belong to no one, I thought your people over anyone would understand that."

Kaleo grimaced, the blow he had taken from Anthal’s first impact left his breathing short. "I do understand it. If it was any other day in another place, then I would agree. But this would only be the start of our troubles if you won here. So you ask me to choose between my family and some distant ideal."

"Then you’re a coward." Anthal Sr. spat into the sea. "You could have both."

"Not always."

Anthal drew his cutlass. If it was doubtful that he would be able to get away from the king while he was alive, then so be it, the king would die.





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T H E D A Y T H E M U S I C D I E D



It was dark and the water sparkled with moonlight. Kaureerah rode out on a small boat - just her and Tku - and it all seemed so unreal, so unnecessary. She had run from her home, but it hadn't been cowardice. She'd tried - gods how she'd tried - but they'd been determined to remain thralls and suffer in silence for someone else's sin. The options had been to remain there and live under her people's disdain and suspicion, or to risk running for the kekars' world and living as an outsider, but at least one who might make a mark, who might be accepted in some way.

Is that why I'm here? So people might accept me? The wind whipped her hair about and she spared a glimpse back at Tku, dismissing the thought for now. If she was not so very strong in the Gift, she was good with this particular aspect of it, and the boat moved quickly within the grasp of kinetic magic. Further she went from shore and she breathed in the tropical nighttime air, finally somewhat cooler, just for the breeze.

The waters below were not empty, however. She could feel, in their depths, how they churned with life. Some was the assortment of fish, corals, and molluscs one might expect, but most was something different: the writhing, gnashing hunger of hundreds of boat-sized threshers. Most were preoccupied with a different sort of hunger, but they were aggressive, they were strong, and at least three were coming for their boat at present. "Tkoo," Kaureerah said, "Eye need yoo too meynteyn aur speed."

She reached out once more with her senses. She knew the beasts of the sea, even if these ones were less familiar. They used sound and magnetism to navigate, and she was a master of the first. Switching positions with Tku, she dipped her hand, trailing, into the water. She cupped it in a specific way, and then fed the current into it. The sound that emanated was scarcely audible to human ears, distinctly audible to hers, and outright alarming to those of the threshers. The response was immediate: wherever they were, they jerked and spasmed and shot away. The three closing in on the boat turned back. Concentrating for the next minute or so, she continued to send out that pulse and it continued to do its work.

And then, as a great, sharp-prowed Tarlonese thiis'elaaz neared, she and Tku were alone again with the wind and the waves and the moonlight, the occasional spray of water dappling the eeaiko's clothing. Certainly, they exchanged a few nervous words. She helped the artist rehearse a couple of his lines. The Tarlonese ship approached and, once more, Kaureerah cupped her hand and let out a pulse of sound to drive the threshers back with discomfort. Sometimes, animals could be allies and even friends. Sometimes, just like people, they would not.

She remained behind as he climbed aboard. These Tarlonese were not friends; they were representatives of a tyrannical empire, no different from the Virangish who extorted these islands because they could. Yet, both were 'allies' and, the more that Kaureerah sat in that boat, bobbing tethered to a warship, the more that she soured on it. Two years ago, as some inconsequential water girl trying to find her way in the inland world, singing little songs and selling her body for money, she had spoken with people who thought that they could change things, who were trying to change things. She had agreed to help them, but what had she done? Truly, what difference had she made?

Always, she thought, we sacrifice the future for the present, forgetting that today's present was yesterday's future. On, she thought, and on the cycle goes and we tell ourselves that we had to, that we're moving in the right direction, that next time will be better. She had committed and would not try to change matters now. Against her growing disgust, she would hold her nose and watch her allies work with tyrants to help these people perpetuate their own oppression. This would be the last time, however. She swore it to herself, sitting on that bobbing boat, impotent and irrelevant. She loved life. She wished for peace, but this was running: this was what it looked like.

There, on the tropical atoll of Moatu Suva, one warm dorrad night, something broke inside of Neki Kaureerah Wenhan and not all the glue nor magic in the world might fix it. Perhaps it was her idealism, or it might've been her silence, for she was a maker of songs that had always said nothing. But... maybe it was her consent - her willingness to dully accept things the way that they were and do nothing. Fighting for a better world sometimes requires one to punch up at the giant instead of down. She sat there in a boat and breathed unsteadily in and out. Her fingers curled into her palms and her hands turned into fists.



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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Emeth
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Emeth Fluffs Responsibly

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A Cold Metal Coffin





Sendoff

With the addendum that Raffaella would be going to the shipwreck to distract the Virangish posted nearby, the group had settled on something vaguely resembling a plan. Mahal had dropped her off on the isle on the way to the battle with the pirates, and now it was time to act. To say that she had her own plans would be generous, but an agenda... perhaps. Once again she would dip her hand into the water to summon her pet. "Come on, girl... yeowch! Dah huwts!" Raffie stroked the claw attached to her cheek to quell the Queen's wrath, and she was let go. Good girl. You have a new target—make sure they don't talk to the Tarlonese. Don't hurt them, but, well... just get in the way a bit. She smiled as her torpedo thresher swam off to cause more chaos. This would also have the side effect of drawing a good portion of the threshers away from the... aquamarine? You know, the thing!

As Raffie approached the ship, she was stopped by a pair of guards. Gracefully, she explained that she was there on behalf of a High Zeno of Ersand'Enise—one from the archaeology department—to ensure the condition of any historically significant finds that may be inside. That was the purpose of their mission, and she, as their own Virangish representative, was here to complete the more "delicate" work requiring their trust, as a gesture of good faith. She also assured them that, so long as she was here, Virang would surely get a lion's share of the wealth to be earned from this situation. The guards weren't fully convinced, but her story was reasonable enough that they agreed to let her speak to someone with more authority. Upon meeting this person, she'd no doubt have to tell her story a second time, and maybe even a third time to a higher level of command, all while being careful to stick to her story without changing any details. This... might take a while...



Controversy


"Xiu," Desi opened questioningly.

"Yeah?" she replied, pouring her sister a glass of the same stuff she was drinking.

"Isn't this stuff illegal in, like, seventeen countries?" She whispered, but pursed her lips disapprovingly.

"I fuckin' hope so!" Xiuyang replied incredulously, grinning. "Cheers." She raised her glass.

Instead of raising her glass, Desi lowered Xiuyang's. "You've changed, Xiu. Since... that time. What happened? What haven't you told us?"

"Not very good at holding back, are you?" Xiuyang replied irritably.

"I should say the same!" Desi shot back, yanking the glass out of her hand and setting both of them aside. There was pain in her eyes.

Xiuyang sighed. "It's better that I don't talk about it. I've been fussed over quite enough."

"Xiuyang..." she pleaded, but was stonewalled. "...Gods. Where did you even get this stuff?"

"Auction. One of those filthy rich Virangish that came for the Trials kicked the bucket. Mataraci, I think."

"Oh, wow. That'll shake things up back home."

"Know her?"

"Know her? Xiu, she's famous! At least, in Virang she is. Used to travel all over the world—been to almost every country, wrote an autobiography. She was strong, too. Some say she could have been an Arch Zeno."

"Huh. If she wrote books, maybe I'll read them," replied the aspiring world-traveler. "So, she died suddenly with war on the horizon. That's totally not suspicious at all."

"Xiuxiu... not everything is a conspiracy," Desi replied with a patient smile. "She was well over a hundred years old."

"I envy the peace that way of thinking brings you," Xiuyang replied sarcastically.

"There's plenty to go around!" she chirped. "All right, I'll humor you. Who benefits from killing her?"

"Beneficiary? Next of kin?" Xiuyang replied, slightly flippant and very cynical.

Desi considered. "I don't think she has any."

"What about Raffaella?"

"Struna?"

"Who?"

"The orphan she took to Inipor. What about her?"

"Didn't she adopt her? ...Actually, why don't you know this?"

"Well..." Desi twirled her hair nervously. "Raffaella is a bit... controversial. I only know that my husband told me never to ask about her. I only know her by name. I haven't even seen her face."

Xiuyang was taken aback. Desi's husband was a good man, and not the sort to care about casual drama or celebrity gossip. The girl was fake as a knock-off brand diamond, and as much as the little twerp pissed her off, she just couldn't imagine her as a center of controversy. Everything about her appearance and personality was engineered to appear harmless and in need of protection from others. She was—though Xiuyang was loathe to admit it—cute, even adorable. How could someone like that be effectively unpersoned so hard that Desi, the most spoiled wife in all of Virang, was ordered to keep her nose down over it? "That's crazy. Everyone loves her over here. Why is it different in Virang? What did she do over there?"

Desi shrugged her shoulders helplessly. It wasn't like her to not know about things she was interested in. This was fishy.

This isn't right. I'm getting to the bottom of it, she decided.



Into the Depths

"Are we really gonna let her go in alone?" one of the guards outside the wreck mused.

"Nothing else we can do. We don't let her in, it's a shitshow with the school. We give her an escort, it's a shitshow back home."

"Why is she so untouchable? What makes her so important?"

"Important? Nah. She's a hot iron, that's what she is. Get involved with her either way, you'll be burned. Simple as."

"She's like the sultan's dirty laundry. Best to pretend she doesn't exist: don't disrespect her—but don't acknowledge her, either."

I can hear you, you fucking numbskulls, Raffaella thought irritably as she descended.

No matter. There was no need for an eagle to concern herself with the opinions of worms.



The interior of the ship was much like its exterior: metal. Metal walls, metal ceilings, metal doors—the only thing in the hallway that didn't seem to be metal was the floor lined with a thin, coarse carpet for better traction. Even then, there were patches of flooring that were scraped away to reveal even more metal. Despite this, it wasn't unappealing to look at. While the architecture seemed the result of ruthlessly efficient manufacturing, there were enough small details and color changes to avoid a dull appearance. To Raffie, it had at least the impression of an important place built to last. With an absence of light, natural or not, she needed to light her own way while exploring, and she eventually chose to proceed with red light to preserve her night vision. It immediately gave the place an eerie vibe.

Lining the walls of the hallway were doors upon doors. Each opened up to identical small bedrooms with small, single beds and wardrobes. It appeared empty and abandoned of residency aside from the odd thing left behind. There was a single shirt that lay haphazardly on the ground as if the contents of the wardrobe had been wrenched out in a hurry. It looked tacky but the quality of the tailoring was unmissable, it seemed made for Raffie's height too but far too wide. A portly Hegelan? she mused as she held it up to herself for comparison. Already, the lack of treasures had left her with not much to do but amuse herself.

Swinging open a couple of doors at the end of the hallway revealed a wide hall given two stories of height. What lined the floor were row upon row of metal tables, benches to either side and all of it welded together and affixed to the floor with bolts. This was a dining hall area that was, again, abandoned of objects and life. One thing was clear: this place had been looted already—at least in these areas of the ship—but the Royal Asper Salvage Co. had made no mention of progress in exploring the wreck, nor had the locals, so... Whodunit? she mused, lacking critical information.

In the quiet of the space, Raffied noticed a very faint singing echoing through from somewhere else on the ship. With some focus, the singing didn't sound like the idle musings of boredom, but a song intended to be heard. Raffie knew she wasn't the only student on this ship, but it didn't sound like Maura and it certainly wasn't Marz. The eerie, haunting melody continued to reach the girl's ears growing neither stronger nor fainter. If it was something malicious, it could pose a threat to Maura and Marz—but they should be able to handle it themselves. Raffie was more curious than afraid.

Dimming her light, she used the Gift to sense her surroundings as she followed the song. Soon, she heard shuffling and movement around her—sometimes far, sometimes close, but never right in front of her. Their movements sounded serpentine and certainly couldn't be confused for Marz and Maura. Why'd it have to be snakes? she whined, using the Gift to disguise her scent now, much more than her manipulation of the already virtually non-existent light. The trail led her down two sets of stairs toward the lower decks where pipework followed the walls. She touched them gently as she went, using them as a guide. Somewhere along the trail, she noticed that the song's intensity increased slightly, then began fading. The singer was on the move and moved with purpose. It could have spotted the other two. Those fools, couldn't they even stay out of the way?!

She continued to follow the singing voice in the hopes of finding the other two and consequently the song became gradually louder—but now she had stopped moving and the song was still growing louder. All of a sudden, Raffie spotted Marz and one of Maura's puppets turn a quick corner down the hallway. Marz seemed to make a mess of the trail, swinging open doors before quickly but carefully retracing his steps and diving into one of the earlier rooms, closing the door behind him.

Does he really think he's gonna pull a fast one here? Before Raffie was able to get Marz's attention or try to join him, though, the song's source turned the corner into the hallway. The barely visible translucent shape of some kind of creature was rushing down where Marz and the puppet went. It would probably have been invisible if it weren't for the speed of its pursuit!

With the song no longer being an echo but a direct sound wave toward Raffie, the full extent of its power started to affect her, causing her to quickly become sleepy—but Raffie was always getting sleepy at the most seemingly random of times, and she didn't necessarily put two and two together in time to resist. It was frankly a miracle that she wasn't sleepwalking already in this darkness and—in her usual manner—she found herself asleep standing up, but still somewhat functional.

The serpent, for a moment, seemed to follow the false trail that Marz set up, but then it stopped and seemed to realize what had happened. She stopped cloaking herself, stopped singing, and snuck up to Marz's door. Before long she had started the song again, directed toward the cracks of the door, confident she had secured her prey. Indeed, she was surely confident, as her comrades were nearby and could be here in but a moment if she felt the need to call for help, but she didn't. Or perhaps the others couldn't be bothered to be on patrol on account of some other duties—whatever those might have been.

Before she could think of what to do, Raffie found her lips moving. "Go."



And from beneath her feet, from within her shadow, rose a creature she had seen before in her nightmares. It clambered forth and raced across the metal pipes, making a sound like knives on metal as it went. All Marz would have been able to make out from the noise was that it was a mid-sized, four-legged animal with claws. It tore down the hall the way Marz had come from, leading the serpent creature to follow it away—and there was Raffie, asleep in the hall, still on her feet. Did that really just happen? Well... they were safe for now.
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Force and Fury
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It was late on a Taldes afternoon. Light streamed in through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows of Arc-en-Ciel Hall and the footfalls of High Zeno Tannifer Marbrand clicked forbiddingly on the parquet as she walked. Two others scampered along in her wake, bringing her the day's final briefing before she headed home.

"We've received another request for information on the Kavanaugh boy."

"Who's sending all of these in? I thought he wasn't supposed to matter!"

"According to his documentation, he has a rather large... family."

"So it's all of his degenerate relations, then?"

"No, ma'am. I doubt they'd be literate enough anyhow."

"Well, then who? For the love of Shune..."

"Yesterday, it was a milliner from the Crafters' Quarter and an arms manufacturer from outside the walls. The day before, it was an accountant at Sealy's, a master of the tailor's guild, and the madam of a local brothel."

"And today?" inquired Tannifer Marbrand, eyebrow arched.

"It was a little girl named Genevieve Marais, from the Workman's Quarter."

"Yes, the one who lost her legs in that awful mess last year." The zeno considered. "And who was the first?"

"That would be one..." Marcel flipped through his little book. "Isabella Lowell, a student at the academy."

"The clothing designer?"

"Yes, ma'am. Originally registered as 'Moriarty', but she appears to have married. Enthish, I believe."

"But really, Dolores?" Tannifer rolled her eyes. "I should bloody well hope that I, of all people, would recognize an Enthish name."

"As you say, milady. Apologies."

"It's not for you to apologize for, Marcel," she huffed, but then she batted any further conversation on the topic away. "And she was the first and it was just the once, hmm?"

"Apologies Miss Marbrand," mewed Dolores. She bowed in deference. "She was the first - a tethered girl - waiting in Balthazar for most of the day. She came again the next."

"And nothing else?"

"Well," Marcel added mysteriously, "Until today."

"Out with it then, Marcel!"

"Sh-she came again today to inquire about Desmond Catulus."

There was a long, vexed sigh. "The mercenary?"

"The same, ma'am."

Her face settled. "Very well. Let me handle her."



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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Th3King0fChaos
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Into the Heart


Collab between @Ti & Myself


Once the talking was finished and the plans had been set in motion, it was time for them to get to work. Marz and Maura were to head to the ship to try and see what was happening within and get a handle on the other factors of the situation. When he neared Maura’s strange ship, he sighed, it wasn’t quite finished, yet he had enough time now to know what he needed to do for it. He took in the energy of the waves of the ocean and began to charge the multiple different pieces of metal with magnetic energy. Once that energy fully filled the metal, he began to twine multiple spells together. Holding out his hammer, Marz began to move the countless metal pieces into place and have them stick together through the magnetic energy sticking them together. Then he lifted the countless rivets using the same magnetic and kinetic energies he lifted the plates with and now slamming the plates together to the hull of the underwater ship with rivets.

He took the clockwork engine and began to charge it with his magics as well. Intertwining the energies as he began to form the countless gears onto their axles and sprockets. As the engine began to form, the gears began to go together like lovers. The interlock of the gears teeth just like fingers wrapping around each other, binding with each other. As they begin to wind tighter and tighter, a love is formed, just like the engine that has now taken shape. The moment the engine was formed, Marz used the great well of energy called the ocean to fill himself. He used this vast source of energy to exert tremendous force upon the large, multiple ton brick of metal and set it into its housing.

Once the engine was in place, Marz sealed it with the proper metal sheets and set in the axel needed to drive the paddles of the ship. Marz continued his building as he even began to form the platform under it. It had multiple logs, which allowed it to roll with some ease. As the moment the underwater ship was needed to be set off, Marz began to take in the energy of the waves once more and began to launch it into the platform. Forcing it to move as, the platform and the ship began to roll forward and into the water.

Maura observed as Marz worked diligently, surrounded by an army of puppets on standby, ready to provide assistance. The Hegelan, a master of his craft, was deeply engrossed in the rebuilding effort. Maura knew better than to intervene. Instead, she offered a thumbs up, a sign of appreciation, as he completed his task.“Masterful work, as always,” she praised.

Once in the water, Marz began to help Maura into the ship before he entered and closed it up and did one last check of the ship. He began to use kinetic energy across the interior of the ship causing lots of force across the ship, and took note of the few faults in the ship before he nodded and believed it was acceptable as is before they set out.

As they travelled through the water, the ship was quite dark if they did not use magic to navigate. Marz didn’t need much light, with his magics, he increases his own dark vision through chemical alterations of his sight and light manipulation as they travelled. Yet they still needed a bit of light as the fighting above was creating shadows that played weirdly. So much so that Maura spotted some shadows moving in the distance in such a strange way that it looked like the whip of a fishy tail behind some rocks.

If someone didn't know better, they could mistake it for a normal shadow. Even someone who was a little suspicious, they could mistake it for any other marine life. But Maura and Marz aren’t the norm, they both know better. They took this as the Meerami had seen the submarine. A chill ran down their backs as they realized in the dark they hid and watched. However, thankfully, the Meerami haven't struck and seem content with hiding away for now.

Marz began looking around more as he said, ”Seems ey’re expectin’ us”.

“Then let’s give them a warm welcome.” She moved her hand toward the lights, flickering them on and off in a pattern, communicating out into the water before them. “If they know that we know they are there, they know they don't have the element of surprise and will be less likely to ambush us. And if we don’t make any threatening moves, they may stay back and be content with watching us. Don’t want to test this thing against a horde of suspicious dragon-mermaids.”

After a while longer, they were finally near the wreckage, here the lights from the surface were completely dim. So they had to turn off their lights and use the gift to sense. They began to stretch their senses, they could sense the intense kinetic energy roiling throughout the sea, the arcane energy was low, so they had to search through a different way. They began to transform the massive kinetic energy around them into a little bit of magnetic energy and began to send it out like miniature pulses. Eventually, they found the energy connected with another metal object, they had to be near the main hull. From here, they began to sense around, and slowly, but surely they eventually found an opening. From what they could sense, they realized that from the multiple large sheets of metal, one was blown apart and had countless pieces of metal launched outwards.

After navigating the area so as not to damage Maura’s ship, they entered the opening. When they were able to break the surface, Marz was the first to leave as he used arcane energy to light the place up.

It was apparent to his inspection of the area that the ship experienced an internal explosion that had ripped a hole in the hull, it was likely the cause of the ship crashing in the first place, whatever it was. Fortunately, the resulting entrance was submerged in water because it couldn't be spotted by land or ship. Maybe the Royal Asper Company did not know of it yet, which Marz thought would give them some of the best cover coming in and out when needed.

As Marz looked around, he realized the submarine surfaced into a wide metal lead-lined space with enough gray steel-grates walkways, ladders, and pipes to still make it feel claustrophobic. The area resembled a steam room but was much different to what he was used to seeing within even the most advanced forges or even ships of his people. The space was much bigger than any steam room he had seen on a Clockwork ship, and there were at least four times the pipes branching off in different directions. However, the first convergence point of the pipelines led to... nothing. Five pipes at leg height and four pipes well overhead lead to a space where something big once lay, a slow drip, drip, sounded from the residual water that once flowed through them. Whatever was once here, it had been looted already, and it wasn't the only thing. This plantroom was nothing but adjoining pipework leading to an absence of meaningful machinery.

Marz turned to the ship and Maura, ”Oi, it seems a little ‘ard ‘ere fer ya. Ye wanna stay ‘ere or try yer luck?”.

Maura surveyed the condition of the ship’s interior. "When designing this vessel, rollerchair accessibility clearly wasn’t on their minds," she remarked with a bemused expression. "And that was before the wreck."

Maid Malena came up alongside her. "However, my loyal servant here shouldn’t face such difficulties." The Maid Puppet performed a curtsey toward Marz as a sign of respect. "We can control things from here or help you find another exit if needed," Maura offered, her voice filled with resolve.

As Marz left with the puppet, he chuckled as he said to it, ”Slave driver ‘eh tin man? Let’s see if ya can be useful”. As Marz looked around, a question came to mind as he saw more and more places where pipes were leading to and no machines were there. Who had looted this place? The Royal Asper Company hadn't managed to get inside yet, and the locals hadn't either. The only group who seemed capable of this feat was the Meerami, it was certainly them, right? As they turned the corner, a clue lay pinned to the wall.

It was a calendar open to the current month made of a shiny, plastic-like paper, but what most drew the eye was the calendar picture. A young Hegelan woman knelt on a beach towel holding two steins of what could only be beer. She had short ginger hair and was topless, with only a delicately parted beard to cover each of the nipples. Only one race could appreciate the tasteful beauty of a feminine beard, this was a Hegelan ship. Any Hegelan could go their entire lives without so much as touching a sea vessel, and yet the truth was staring them right in the face.

The Maid pointed at the picture, then pointed at the empty space around them. Where were the other Hegelans? No one had previously discussed or mentioned them. This was a disconcerting fact.

Marz then realized something as he began to look around, another truth had dawned on him. This ship wasn't powered by coal. This was a steam room, so one would expect to see evidence of a coal burner. While it may have been taken away, did the looters also go through the effort to meticulously clean the surfaces of coal dust. This is no easy task, as Marz knew well. So if it wasn't coal, then what had powered the ship?

Marz was about to begin inspecting the pipes for possible residue, until he felt a strange presence. Then he heard it, a faint singing in the distance. They were not alone on this ship. It sounded like it was getting closer, moving with purpose. It was a haunting, eerie melody that felt ominous in nature, and maybe even spoke of potential hostility.

Marz looked around as he saw at that moment an exit that has most of the pipework leading towards it. Marz immediately began to run to the door and was going to follow the pipes. As Marz began to run, the puppet followed fast as they began to clear sonic magic traces coming from behind them. Whatever was producing the sound, it was casting some sort of spell. As they ran, those traces were only growing stronger as the two leave the room and down the corridor. They are being actively hunted and, and they were losing ground even with their magics.

Between the corridors as they ran, Marz was able to follow that corridor and more pipework started to line the walls. This had to be the way to the power source, if it was not in the area they found themselves in. Yet this was not the moment to try and beeline to it. Their pursuer will only follow and will just have a conflict wherever they end up. So they needed to make something happen.

As they ran, Marz began to pull in the energy of the water outside the ship and fill himself with kinetic energy. He used this energy to begin to throw open doors, break pipes and create small barricades. He began to rip up metal plates, and everything else, he needed to get them used to it. Once they turned a corner, Marz pulled in even more energy as he focused it all across the multiple doors and walls down the hallway he would go down and throw open all the doors and pipes. Forcing them all open to look like they had gone down that way before Marz and the puppet slipped into one of the close doors to hide.

In the dark, quiet room, the sound of the singing was haunting. It sounded both eerie and now, soothing. The sound both grated against the ear and calmed the mind. This feeling made Marz feel incredibly uneasy. As he sat there in the dark, he wanted to turn on a light. He couldn’t tell if whatever was following them was near or far. The presence seemed almost impossible to tell where it was. Yet the moment the song sounded almost blaring, it then began to become quieter, and then, the singing stopped. It was in the moment of pure horror, that Marz began to hear a faint slithering grow closer. Then, the singing began to start again, as it began to come through the cracks in the door. Marz began to feel sleepy as the song reverberated from all areas at once. In this state, the hiding place had locked him in with the voice. Yet he couldn’t think of fighting it, rather he thought about trying to outlast it, and maybe whatever was producing it would leave thinking they were not here.

Marz began to take his hair and began to cut come of it off. Then he used the oils and chemicals within his hair to make it more hardened before he stuck 2 wads of hair into his ears. From there he began to use his ear wax and chemically produced more to try and create some seal against the sound. Yet it was only a stop-gap as the sound reverberated through his chest, in his lungs, in his mouth, and his nose. Anywhere where air could exist, it reverberated within him, and he could feel the sleepiness set in.

Through this singing, Marz began to feel how the energy bounced off of the walls, how it shook the metal, and how it reverberated under his body. He could sense all around him as he tried to figure out what to do next, yet it was useless. He felt his body slowly grow limp, it was until the skittering of some creature that interrupted the song. Malena positioned herself in front of Marz and went limp, and gave of the appearance of being inactive and incapacitated.

Leaving Marz and the puppet in an empty room, it was euphoric, the silence and the near unconscious state. It however was interrupted as an intense rush of adrenaline and magnetic magic rushed into Marz that awoke him. Marz almost launched himself to his feet as he heaved and looked around for a moment. He took a breath in and sighed, taking from around his neck a necklace with a gorgeous red gem on it. The gem glowed with a whitish magic for a moment before dimming. Marz nodded to himself as he looked to the puppet and said, ”Pretty close there, eh? Let’s see wha’ they’re keepin’”.

As Marz and the puppet traveled further into the ship, they realized it was far larger than they even first thought. As from traveling from the front of the ship to just the center area stretched their sensing between each other to the very limits they could perform. As with Marz, he is unable to pick out Maura’s ship anymore since she went into low-power hiding. Yet, the search was worth it, as Marz was able to witness a contraption so magnificent that any lesser man would consider it the work of the gods.

Marz and the puppet found where the pipes lead as many of them went into a room. Once they entered the room, they found it was a small room, maybe no more than 3 meters wide walls and multiple spots where desks were. The only thing left in the room seems to be a single door which hid a ladder. Marz was skeptical that this would lead them to their destination, yet they needed to know. After climbing down the ladder, they entered a somewhat small yet spacious area. At first, they thought the area had nothing within, the room had nothing attached to the ceiling except some wires to hold off the grated catwalk that led to the center of the room. There were no energy signatures able to be sensed at first, as it felt like this place was more empty than normal.

Marz had a strange feeling about the room, there had to be more, as he began to look around. When he entered, he was confirmed this was not some great big machine to act as the ‘heart’ of the ship. Yet, he hoped to have found something like that. He hoped there would be some great large spherical device that would hold a large fire within, or even something more impressive. Yet as he inspected the room, he couldn’t sense much of anything. It was not until he neared the center of the cat walk, he could finally sense the faintest energy within the room, and it was terrifying. Under his feet he could sense the faint signature of one of the most intense energies a man can produce, atomic energy. The Maid continued to look speechless as it examined the surroundings.

Marz then began to inspect the room again. It was a small mostly sealed off room no more than 6 meters length wise and 10 meters across. The room stood assumedly 5 meters high, yet as Marz looked down and cast a light magic, he could see he was wrong.

Underneath the catwalk were 8 strange cylindrical devices that were 10 meters tall and 2 meters wide. Those 8 cylinders were split into 4 as they were on either side of the catwalk. The cylinders were set around this device that held them and seemed to have countless wires, pumps, metal plates, and tubes that lead between them. Marz began to inspect them as he noticed that there were railings made of thin metal that restricted his walking yet allowed him to walk onto the large cylinders. As he stepped onto them, he began to inspect the devices further.

As he knelt down, he began to look into where the cylinders were, countless pipes and wires that filled the bottom area that led to the rest of the ship. From this one point, it was powering the entire ship. This massive, nearly 400-meter long ship was powered by this small room. The heart of the ship.
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Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Th3King0fChaos
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Th3King0fChaos The Weird

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Arena of Gods and Men (and Women)


Collaboration between: @Force and Fury, @jasbraq, and Myself


It was a grand place, rising up from the idyllic countryside, busy and bustling and much in contrast to its bucolic surroundings. People of all shapes, colours, and sizes thronged about. There were the usual humans, yasoi, hegelans, and eeaiko, but also more exotic sorts: cazenax, ogauraq, sirrahi, and even cherune, meerami, and... another reptilian sort that Desmond, Edyta, and Fiske had never before laid eyes upon.

There were sights, sounds, and smells that were incredible. Of the first, a marketplace with wares from across space and time, constructs of metal and other odd materials that moved as people did to train and fight with them, and fantastic beasts both real and competely imaginary. Why, there was a three-headed dragon: a real hydra! There was a winged horse! There were centaurs, griffons, and unicorns, as if plucked straight from arists' and children's imaginations! People seemed to come and go from nowhere. There was a tall and ornate platform in an Avincian style and they either appeared or disappeared when they stepped upon the bullseyes there. Some great beam of light swept down to either extract of deposit them in this place.

A hundred different languages were spoken, yet all understood each other. From inside the great arena could be heard the clash of swords, the sizzle of magic, and the thunderous shocks of explosions, rising above or falling below the surging voices of a great crowd.

Then, there was the food and drink: all sorts of food, aromatic and perfectly prepared and utterly delicious-looking. The fine scents rose above the usual reek of sweat, blood, and ash that one might expect in a place of combat. Wine, ale, juices, milks, and other unfamiliar drinks could be found by the great barrel.

All about them were statues and monuments to the greats. These lined the roads, in addition to great cypress trees, swaying in a refreshing breeze. Angels stood at the doorways of some of the larger public buildings. Others seemed to be directing souls one way or another. Then, in a handsome public square where souls of every sort imaginable bustled about, there stood three great leaderboards:

H U N T E R
W A R R I O R
R E A P E R


This was but one of the five great hubs of Eshiran's heaven, and they walked through it, both strange and familiar. Manfred twisted and smiled. "You like it, huh?" he teased, and Edyta nodded in her birdlike manner. There was an expansive garden, somehow serene, full of trees of innumerable types that seemed to commemorate the lives of people. Souls came and went from these trees, which opened up to embrace them and release them. The nun could not say why, but perhaps it allowed them to somehow interact with the living world.

Erika seemed quite at home: an 'old hand', so to speak, while Manfred at least appeared to know his way around. "You see, the afterlife isn't just some idyllic thing," the latter remarked to his companions. "There really is a lot going on. We're preparing for something, always. At times, we're called upon to intervene. Those who've made good with Dami can always reincarnate and..."

Erika shook her head and he trailed off. "Sorry," she interjected, "but the less you know, the easier it will be to return you to the land of the living, assuming that's where you want to go." She shot them a sympathetic glance. "Now, we need to find the Ministry of Semi-Damned Souls. Let's see..."

Desmond began to look around at the wonders of this arena. At first, he would have assumed a place like this would have been a place where arms were sold to be used within Colosseum. A constant arms race to create the greatest weapons to prove who is the best.

Yet here it was different than he thought. It was a bazaar, filled with countless wares. Beasts who transport people. There are even strange platforms that seems to make people appear and dissappear in a pillar of light, possibly some kind of temporal magic manipulating space-time. Even stranger was where trees enveloped people and let them out.

Yet what was most interesting to Desmond at this moment was the 3 large billboards that read: Hunter, Warrior, and Reaper. He was curious what it meant as he tried to see them more closely and see what was on them.

Fiske rode the hand of the hunter as they passed what seemed to be beyond the previous hunting grounds. The decorations around them were the things of beauty, even if he didn't like the whole idea of putting others up a pillar of supposed greatness. Leaderboards that seemed to venerate the most boorish of the people here, this really was one of the heavens he prayed he would've never had to set foot in... the only other that was worse would be Dami's.

It was clear to Manfred that these friends of his from the other side were curious about various things they'd seen, but they still appeared as animals. He blinked. "Oh, I can take you there, but Erika's right, and she's been here for a good while. You'll be stuck as animals until we can get you sorted."

"If we can," the huntress amended.

"We'll do it," Manfred responded with absolute confidence.

"Didn't that kind of typical hero bullshit get you killed?" Erika teased.

"But then I ended up here, didn't I?" he joked, but those who knew him well could probably see that the accompanying smile did not quite reach his eyes.

"I don't like their bureaucracy any more than the next person who isn't stupid," Erika admitted, "but you see that leaderboard that you're looking at so inquisitively there, big guy?" She regarded Desmond directly for a moment. "The only reason they're not coming to fuck you up right now is -"

"Because you're handsome little devil," Erika interjected.

Manfred arched an eyebrow. "And because you're with us. Hunter score is based on bagging animals. Some are golems of Oraff's heaven. Others are damned souls. People gun extra hard for those." He glanced down at Fiske. "More times dead means more sins burned away and a quicker trip to heaven."

"Basically, we've gotta deal with the angels if we wanna get you three back to normal or at least the two of you who aren't damned."

Out of all the things he saw, the one thing he had full interest in were the trees that seems to be rather busy. What would be so significant about these trees, he wanted to see.

The rat tapped on Manfred's palm and pointed towards the trees that seemed to house souls.

Desmond listened as he looked at the score boards. When he heard about what they were, he was a little upset.

He was hoping it was a board about the great hunts of people in the land of the living. He hoped more he was actually on the list.

However, it did feel pretty good when Erika called him a handsome devil. He chittered and cooed in response.

Yet, they were right. They needed to get into a more human form. As if they were animals, they could be hunted down. Who knows what happens if they die here.

Desmond didn't wanna find out.

He nodded to Manfred and looked to Fiske trying to say, "We. Go. Angel. Body Good".

Fiske overheard the one thing he did not want to hear.

Why did he have to die over and over to cleanse himself of his sins? What kind of messed up god gets off on seeing people die until they barely even register dying as a big thing in existence?

The little rat shivered in Manfred's palm. He didn't want to go to this heaven, let alone any of the heavens for there was so much good he could still do. The boy just couldn't accept his fate yet

Then he heard Desmond speak to him, giving Fiske a little more hope. "Me. Body Good. Too?"

Desmond couldn't be certain. Fiske actually died. He was sent here and was expected to fulfil his sentence. Yet that was no reason to say it. There was no reason for Desmond to allow Fiske to saty, when there might be a chance. He chittered and nodded as he said, "Yes. You Too".

Fiske couldn't help but doubt the other. He had actually died whilst Desmond was here with something weird. "Let's. Hope." He did not try to show through his mannerisms. He was nearly considering asking Manfred to kill him continuously.

Edyta did not strictly follow them, for what it was worth. Largely, she soared overhead, taking in this place. She'd found that having wings was a revelation. Certainly, she could hover and even fly with the Gift, but it took energy and constant focus and was far from the effortless ease of this.

Eshiran would not abandon her, she knew, or Desmond. Of Fiske, she was less certain and she cared less as well, though she'd not be so uncouth as to say so. Gradually, they zeroed in on a midsized building between two larger ones, and she came in to land, walking awkwardly in her avian way amidst the others.

They were ushered into a small foyer, almost impossibly ornate with its scullery, marble floors, and illuminated walls and ceilings. A number of doors led off of it but, first, there was an obnoxiously cheery-looking angel sat at a desk. Immediately, upon them entering, she perked up. "Well howdy-do there, friends!? She had the shiniest blonde hair that Edyta had ever seen, the rosiest cheeks, and the most perfect frilly white outfit. "What brings ya here today?" she chirped.

The building they entered begged to be inspected with a closer eye. It's a building of the gods, they wouldn't mind a little piece missing, right? . . . But alas his thumbless dexterity for grabbing things were nearly non-existant.

This angel, she was practically blindingly shining with how cheery she was. It made Fiske want to analyze the looks of the woman. Her hair, her face, every small detail was being forced into remembering.

Then the important answer to her important question arrived. Fiske puffed up his chest and bravely proclaimed.

"Squeak."

Desmond looked around at the countless beauties in this world. The building they entered was a gorgeous with a very modern baroque style.

The building even had the slight gothic design within the gaudy and pristine white walls. All of which seemed to lead them to this almost too happy to be there angel. She spoke with such a high and happy tone that it felt as if she was speaking with a child's voice or even that of a chirping bird.

Desmond leaned over on Manfred as he chirped and whistled as he tried to act suave even in his small form.

Manfred seemed taken with the angel. "Why, clearly the pleasure of your company, Hilarix." He reached for her hand and kissed it and she blushed even redder. "Oh my, Manfred!" she giggled. "Not here!"

Then, Erika cleared her throat. "Manfred, sure you shouldn't be in Ipte's?"

Manfred winked, casting a sly glance at Desmond, but then he cleared his throat as well. "Actually, we're here about these three." he gestured towards the people-animals. "Anything we can do to get them back in some more... familiar forms?"

Hilarix considered, pursing her lips and making a 'thinking' face. "Welp," she answered after a moment, "The stork and this cute little honey badger -" She smiled at Desmond. "Those aren't damned souls." She leaned forward quite interestedly. "Quite a rare occurrence." She glanced Fiske's way for a moment. "You know what he is, though. Right?"

Before Manfred could answer, Erika nodded. "Semi-damned."

"Sadly, yes, for our little friend." She extracted a small amethyst gem from her desk and held it out to Fiske. "Watch what happens when I hold this out."

Desmond raised and lowered his eyebrows as rapidly as a badger could to both Hilarix and Manfred before he chirped and laughed. He began to listen, taking in the information, much of it already being what he knew, yet now with some demonstration.

Desmond looked to the small gem and wondered if Fiske could resist touching such a lovely shiny.

Fiske's tiny little eyes stared at the man holding him with what seemed to be disapproval, though it would most likely go over the flirting man's radar.

Then, this devil in a angel's disguise tempted him. Oh, how she tempted him. A small amethyst gem that he could hold. It looked so shiny and the cutting was perfect. One of his little rat paws reached out as he tried to resist the urge to just jump out of Manfred's hand to grab it. A anguished squeak followed suite.

The angel nodded somberly. "You can take it, little fella. It's okay." She twisted to face the others. "You can see the clear strain on his face as he attempts to resist the temptation." She shook her head. "My diagnosis is terminal scumbaggery." She made a pouty face. "Sadly, he will have to burn off his sins through repeated deaths." She blinked a couple of times and her smile returned. "But then he'll be welcome in heaven and we just can't wait to have him here!" She clapped excitedly, bouncing up and down.

It appeared to be an effort for Erika to keep an even face. Once things had calmed down a bit, she had a question about the others. "So... how about them?" She arched an eyebrow. "The direstork was a Rezaindian", Manfred clarified. "The badger was a cool guy."

Hilarix considered once more and one could almost imagine the steam coming out of her ears from all the thinking. She held up a finger, advising them to 'hang on', ducked behind her desk, brought out a large book, and dusted it off. "Oh, by the way, if you want to see how many deaths Mister Guupguup here needs, I can give you a ticket and you'll just go to the second room on the left!" After that, she spent the next couple minutes flipping through pages and reading.

Finally, she perked up and rose. "Good news is that we know what it is! It's a special backdoor ticket into heaven - sort of bypasses our system." She furrowed her brow. "Usually, only really high ranking angels - well, and of course the Gods themselves - can give those out." She stood, scampering around the desk, for 'scampering' was the only way to describe her movement. "Bad news is that you'll have to meet the boss directly." She pointed to the end of the foyer, where a forbidding-looking staircase led up to a landing with a single imposing door.

Desmond chuckled and laughed as Fiske was given the professional opinion of 'Terminal Scumbaggery'. Though repeated death did not sound like a very good treatment to solve it. Yet she was the professional. She even seemed excited with the idea as it would mean he would be welcomed into heaven.

After her time of thinking and figuring out things, Desmond finally received an answer that would get him a step closer to regaining his body. He would have to talk to the head honcho himself.

Which in the heaven of Eshiran, was not at all intimidating.



"Squeak. . . " He knew it would be like this, there was no true way out of this. He did not even want to tell her off for her rather irritating 'diagnosis', but the motivation to rebel waned.

Fiske stared at Desmond, his laugh stung harder than the words of the angel itself. "Hope. Gone." he squeaked before carefully jumping out of Manfred's palm and next to the amethyst. carefully grabbing it and hugged it, making himself a ball around the gem.

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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by dragonpiece
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dragonpiece

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Tku
A Voyage in the Night

Was this right? popped into Tku’s mind, unable to keep away the intrusive thought as he looked up to the Tarlonesse ship. His voice felt so very small with the King and Queen and now he put himself through talking to the Tarlonese. Maybe a few months ago it would have felt normal, even excited to meet some Tarlonese again. But now?

He wasn’t deaf to the claims of the refugees through Bellville and the worksman quarters that he frequented for small acts of kindness that he could sneak into his day. What some claimed was beyond disturbing. It was very unlike the Tarlon he came to know, unlike the Tarlonese that he would call friends. But could same be said for… It is all murky. But right now, they can help the people I want to help. I can figure the rest out later.

He gave a confident smile to Kaureerah before taking hold of the ladder the Tarlonese so graciously lowered for him. One step and then a leap of kinetic, he grabbed the banisters of the ship and gave a big smile to the crewman, “Oira!,” Tku gave a small snicker as he rolled his shoulder loose. “I have come with an offer on behalf of the people of Moatu Suva,” he spoke in his experienced Yasoi, his accent thick from having learned it only from those of Tarlon. He gestured to the islands with some flair as he picked out the high ranking members, their uniforms were quite the fashionable giveaway, “King Kaleo and Queen Kanani have spoken well of you and I come to make a request to you,” Tku gave a small bow to them as he broke into discussion with Tarlonese captain.

A dialogue was held and the outcome was inline with what Tku wanted. Tku has asked that when the battle begins to settle and the damaged Virangish go to collect their spoils, they simply sail to the wreck and apply some gentle pressure to them. The pirates would either be sinking or running by then, the Virangish would have very little reason to stay after such a battle. Of course more had to be given than the mere satisfaction of fucking with the Virangish. Tku could not say what was on the ship, nor he could let them on as the islanders have forbidden it. He can only make a promise that they will be given some of the things that can be found on the ship. It was a rough agreement as neither party truly knew what was on the ship but at least with this they had a chance.

Towards the end of the talks, working on the final details, Tku felt a worrying pull on his kites. He couldn’t make out much but it was enough to give him pause. He made a reason to excuse himself, and climbed back down to Kaureerah.

Tku dropped from the top rung of the ladder, landing roughly on their small banana themed vessel. He tied his dreads once more, "It went alright," Tku nodded at Kaureerah, "We'll be able to count on them when the time comes." their was not an outstanding amount of confidence in his voice but he didn't need it, instead his voice lingered and jumped to something else.

"The real thing at hand is something may be happening with our friends at the wreck," he tugged on the strings of his kite to double check, "Definitely something."

"How bad is it?" the eeaiko inquired, glancing pensively across the water as she undid the ropes and cast off. "I've... been told to avoid that wreck and I can only wonder why." In truth, she knew and, unless there was some immense and sudden change of heart among the meerami who'd clustered there for reasons unknown, she imagined that an eeaiko showing up among them could be the worst possible thing for her friends and herself.

The small boat began to move across the darkened waves, bucking and yawing as it went, but it didn't yet accelerate or stray too far from the dread ship that Tku had emerged from. Kaureerah regarded him inquiringly, though whether it concerned her explicit or her implied question remained uncertain.

"Hard to say," Tku went to check his things, making sure none had fallen out with all the rocking. "My little kites extend my range considerably but none of our friends are very good at communicating through them," Tku let out a worried chuckle, "For all we know a fight has broken out with Virangish nearby." He grabbed an the oars and settled in to start rowing.

"I know you have been asked not to enter the ship, which is why I'm not asking that, I'm asking you to help me get there," he briefly tossed his head to the waters below and all the sea monsters scrambling about.

"Then maybe we shouldn't be helping the Virangish," she muttered, and it was, perhaps, among the first couple of times that anyone from the academy had seen her wear a peevish expression. She dipped her hand in the water, sullen and silent, and closed her eyes momentarily for focus. "I've no wish to anger our welcoming hosts and honorable allies." She exhaled and the boat sped up. Her hand reached into the water and cupped it and she channeled her sonic magic through it. From her mouth came no sound for a good minute or so. "I'll take you that far and..." She nibbled her bottom lip anxiously. "You can sense through your kites. Are they being attacked?"

Tku turned his eyebrow up at Kaureerah, "I wouldn't say we are helping them," he left it at that, leaving it open if she wanted to speak more. "I'm still new to using the kites this far, I'm no puppet master like Maura, nor an artifact master like Marz but I can sense trouble."

For a moment, she considered saying nothing, like she might've if Evander or some zeno had questioned her, but Tku had struck her as someone who maybe wanted to change things. "They showed up here from their closest colony and held this place hostage." She shook her head tightly, feeling the threshers flee. "Between us, the islanders, the Nikanese, the pirates, and... even the Tarlonese (if we had to) we had the forces to deal with them and the cover - those pirates - to do it without it coming back to these people." She scowled and sighed. "Instead, the rich just keep kicking the little guy for half his lunch money and they get stronger while he gets weaker."

Tku's second answer seemed... evasive, and maybe she'd been wrong, so she fell silent. Is there trouble!? she thought, but did not press any further. "Tku, those are my friends. Maura and I faced death, hand in hand, in Retan. If you know anything that could help keep them from getting hurt, you wouldn't hide it from me, right?" They were now approaching the giant wreck where it loomed above the low-lying atoll of Mehameha, soft waves thumping against its metal sides. Kaureerah reached out with her senses but the hulk was so vast that, even with it this clearly in view, whatever was happening inside remained beyond her. She knew that there were meerami and imagined they were at the wreck from the secrecy of it, but how many? How did the islanders know them or had they at least been told to expect visitors? Maura had gotten naught but a couple of words out and that state of half-knowing was almost worse than not knowing at all.

Tiff was a good person. If their first encounter had been tense, they'd become something almost like... friends, since. It was hard, however, to overcome years of stories, education, and belief to the contrary. Meerami were dangerous. Her friends were there, likely with them and her presence would likely only make matters worse. It was that or the Virangish - and she'd gathered a good deal already about what *they* were about.

"They did," Tku agreed with Kaureerah on the Virangish role in all of this.

"The Islanders only wish for people to stay off the island, Kaureerah. The have allowed some of us to enter. The Virangish do not wish to follow the people's wishes, nor do we know if any other faction in these waters will," Tku openly admitted. "But still, the king and queen trust the delegates Tarlon have sent from Tarlon, not the ones from Nikan(Who are also not the nicest). Nor can I say much about the pirates. If things go well, the Virangish might not gain anything than the 'righteous' feeling of defending some islanders."

He hesitated for a moment, he knew what she was saying but he did not feel they could wrangle everyone against the Virangish. Maybe it was the fear Ren had put in him weeks ago, maybe it is because he had little confidence in those around him to survive the onslaught that would take place. Maybe he wasn't willing to kill Raffie if it came down to choosing sides. "I cannot say Kaureerah. I'm no tethered, I am but an Obenjan trying to use what control I do have to help the people I came here with."

He paused again, "I know nothing Maura does not and the only thing I know to keep them safe is to have a binder at the ready and to keep you off the wreck. You ask of me for safety, and that is what I can tell you to keep you safe," he does not say why, for he is bound by a promise to not share what he had been entrusted with. "You do not need to trust me, I don't ask for that either. I just ask that you believe I want them safe."

Kaureerah went silent and then they were there. She didn't know Tku and she hadn't earned his trust. The reverse wasn't untrue either. The boat went still in the shallows and it wasn't easy to trust someone when they would not do the same back. But aren't I holding put too?

She nodded at him to disembark. "I want them safe too," she said simply, trying to conjure the sweet smile that normally came so easily to her. There was no erasing the bitter aftertaste of it, though.

Tku need not question her smile, she was loving and being asked to not enter the ship. He could not say if she had figured it out but was happy she wouldn’t rush headlong into a dangerous place. Hopefully he would need no force, and this was just his nerves pulling at him but in case it wasn’t, Tku drew from the very depths of the night sky and strengthened his being. "Be safe Kaureerah, I’ll keep and eye out for you with my kites”
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Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Suicharte
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Suicharte

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The Great Escape: Chapter Two



Involved: Tommy, Ailette@Force and Fury, Anjeluun | Current Location: Oraff's Hell, Inner Layer.


Tommy and Ailette soon found that theirs was a fool's errand. One hill looked very much like another in this hell, and they perceived these differently on top of it all. They spent the better part of what both assumed was about a day and a half pursuing an idea that sent them in a wide, looping circle. While at it, they ran through the remainder of the yasoi's first flask.

As bad a state as Tommy was in, Ailette was still technically alive, with all of the bodily needs that entailed. She began falling off the pace, stifled a couple of yawns and, then, some indeterminate time later, simply stopped. "I need to sleep or I'll be inefficient," she sighed vexedly, making her way into the shade of a large tree that, even to Tommy's perception, had not completely withered yet. "I would be perfectly content to simply die in this place, but there are too many variables. I'm not entirely sure what that might entail, given how I ended up here." She laid her crutches on the ground, set her back down, and sat, untying her shoe. "I need only a few hours," she advised. "We cannot afford longer, and we need a new plan. We're just hypothesizing and not testing."

It hadn't occured to Tommy that there was a difference, even if she'd probably said it several times on their journey so far. I mean, beyond her being a yasoi chick, and him being a proper Enthish lad, they were both living beings. But he didn't need to sleep now, and perhaps it was the perpetual sunlight that made him not quite aware of that fact. But there was something about watching someone experience those day to day moments that he took for granted. Sleeping, eating, drinking, yawning, even going to the bathroom were things he had been unfamiliar with for over a month now. To see them again reminded him of what it meant to be alive.

"I'll stand guard then missy. Wouldn't want the dead birds sneakin' up on ya n' pokin' yer eyes out." he spoke, a pessimistic laugh following his words. He looked directly at the sun that would have normally burned his eyes away, and felt a deep sense of annoyance. His mother, for the longest time, had warned him that staring at Lor would make him go blind like Aunt Maggie, but here he was, basking in the glow, challenging it and it would not come ace to face with him.

Because it wasn't Lor. It was fake, treacherous and cruel, unlike the real thing.

But he had to use the time she slept, and be useful. She'd proven her worth twice over at this point. It was his time to step up. Primitive as it was, he grabbed a branch from a tree that his one-legged companion wasn't sleeping under, and began to draw a map of the landscape, of what they'd traversed so far, trying to figure out if there was a key. There had to be something they were missing, a place they could still go to.

For all that she looked little and peaceful and snuggly as she slept, after about twenty minutes, Ailette began to snore like a foghorn. She shifted to sleep on her side and the snoring stopped. Then, a little while later, she shifted again, onto the opposite side, and it started back up. Could Tommy realistically stay focused in the midst of such a racket?

Yet, drawing the map, in fits and starts, a little ways away from his partner who was louder in sleep than in waking, helped to focus him. The girl's bag - which she was currently using as a pillow - was almost comically large. Exactly how she carried its weight - and on a single leg - without complaint was something of a marvel. What might it contain? Might there be anything they could use?

Tommy was so focused that it almost crept up on him: movement in the distance, amid some dying shrubs. Something had moved. Had it just been a dull lick of wing, or more than that? Would it be wise to investigate? To wake Ailette?

He startled at the movement in the distance. So focused was he on the snoring, and the map, and the bag that he had forgotten his original duty. He had sworn to protect this girl from dead birds, and there was one afoot. Or at least, seemed to be. He heard how loud the girl snored, and knew waking her was a fools errand. Even if he managed to wake her, he imagined she was not a pleasant morning person. He brandished his stick like a sword, the smiling wolf that had been in his hands not too long ago and began to sneak forward, keeping an eye on the sleepng girl and her position to make sure there wasn't another. Slowly, carefully, he crept upon the movement.

It was, all things considered, a truly pathetic attempt at stealth. His would-be ambusher was a fellow undead, though in far worse shape: it's skin had mostly sloughed away, as had buch of its muscle. A few of its fingers had outright fallen off. Its hair was thin and strawlike, and an entire leg seemed to have been lost at some point. If he had to guess, it had been female in life, but it was hard to tell at this point. All that seemed to be holding it together was tattered clothing and willpower. It was more or less crawling, its single remaining eye fixed unerringly on the sweet rich prize of Ailette and her healthy living body. It did not even seem to have noticed him yet.

Seeing this... didn't make him have the reaction he would have had in life. He'd gotten used to blood, guts, gore and grisly sights there, but this was a stark reminder of what could be. Ailet was alive, as he'd come to realize, but she could very easily be this girl the moment they begin to run out of rations. One legged and all. It made him shiver in a grim sense of urgency as he snuck closer. He'd give her a quick, quiet end. Maybe the suffering would come to an end, but if this person was in here with him, perhaps there was no end to it all.

[color=gray]Not my place to judge ya, chick, but I need her just as much as you. N' I don't wanna eat 'er, least not in the way you wanna. At least, I'm assumin' as much. Don't know what ends up 'appening if I kill ya here, but I hope you end up somewhere nice. Atoned or somethin'... wait... where do you fuckers go when ya die... he mused to himself, thinking back to his conversation with Ailet and now. Was that a clue to their way out?

He took the stick, sharpened slightly by his magic and prepared to drive it through her like a javelin. For her sake, he hoped it was a quick end. But he paid close attention, to the point that drool had begun to spill from his lips. His focus and intent were locked onto one thing and one thing only - a testing of his hypothesis, or whatever that plucky lil' nerd called it

The cadaver noticed him moments before he struck. "Waii," it rasped, with something that sounded almost like a voice. It held a tattered hand up. It broke his moment of concentration, hearing it speak. Maybe he'd zoned out too far. Tommy paused, holding the sharpened branch in place, ready to strike but intent on giving this poor soul a chance, just as he had with Ailet. "Gh-" it choked. "Gir..." It tried to shake its head, but struggled. "In... danger," the desiccated thing rasped.

There was a moment of clarity, as he scowled. He'd gotten too far from his duty, but in their travels, they'd not saw anything of value. She went for a nap, and the vultures came out to play. He took a rapid step back from the crawling cadaver, and turned his head toward Ailet, hoping that it wasn't too late. "If this is a trick.." he spoke, worry clear on his tone as he readied the trusty stick. There was nothing there, however: nothing but a sleeping Ailette, still snoring away. "Noh... here.... yanii." rasped the cadaver. "In... life. When you make ih bah...ck"

Much about this place was confusing. He stuck his makeshift weapon into the ground and crouched down where he was, a comfortable spot where he could respond to danger and talk to the remnants of this person. "An' why's that, lass? She's a strong'un, an' quite fuckin' clever y'know." he paused in his speech, putting a finger to his temple in contemplation. His eyes went over to the only discernable feature of this near carcass, and then to his compatriot. Was there a link? Was the likelihood of meeting this one legged ladies really that high?

"Unless there's somethin' to the story I'm missin. That lovely girl o'er there nagged my brain off about statistics an' hypothesis n' all that other shite, an' I didn't really get most of it, y'know? But...."he pointed at the near-spectres missing appendage. "Not that I'm against it or anythin', all of you lot 'ave been lovely, but I've met more people like you lot in the past year than most do in their lifetime. Is there some cabal of leg thieves, or are you lot just unlucky?" he spat out, genuinely curious as to what was causing this new phenomena in his life.

It was an awful, rasping sound, this cadaver's laugh. Perhaps it was the first time she had laughed in years. "We..." A hacking cough interrupted her response. "We'hh use...ful. High RAS, sso we geh... around." She struggled to properly shake her head. "Your little... girr loses a... lehg." There came more of that bitter laugh. "Very trhagic. You pum... pum...p her full of aberr...ation so she cah be the avatah of... fuckin' F...Vyshta."

Weakly, she rolled over, managing something like a lopsided sitting position. "I was s'poset-t-t be a goddess." She hacked again for a bit and a glance over at Ailet showed that she had not stirred even a little. "For fif-heen years they treated me... like one." A lone eye regarded him from an almost-bare socket. Her shoulders made an awful scraping as she shrugged. "Then they killed me." She sat there, staring at him, and raised a bony arm. "Thah... girr. Iss she the avatar?"

Tommy smiled in knowing that his theory was somewhat right. There was something fucking weird going on with this people, and so his triumphant expression was marked on the corners of his mouth with the beginnings of a frown. It could have been coincidences, but it seemed oh-so specific and brutal. To mark and maim children, train them, use them and toss them out when the process was over had a mark of undignified cruelty to it. Beyond anything he'd ever really done, or what most people had. Even for those who'd stepped beyond the moral event horizon. children were usually off limits.

He shook his head at the later remark though. He supposed it was a lucky thing that she wasn't, or maybe she'd be marked for death the same way. "Nah. I met the avatar 'fore I died. Lovely lass, honestly. Kinder than that one, but not quite as sharp as 'er. Still plenty smart though." he reminisced about their encounter, a dinner and conversation that they'd shared after their farce match in the trials. "What a way to fall, eh? Goddess to hell. I won the fuckin' trials, y'know. Next thing you know, bullet in my head n' I'm here over some bastard I shivved 5 years ago." he retorted, slamming his fist into the ground in a moment of heartfelt rage, for hers had brought his out.

"Sorry. I've got no right to complain when you're tryna save my saviour. I'd love to 'elp you as well, but I don't know if there's a way out for ya in that state." he muttered wistfully, turning once more to look at the snoring, cozy sleeping Ailet, turning back to face the decomposed former avatar. "I'll 'elp her, n' the current avatar. They're lovely chicks, n' even if I don't 'ave the pointy ears you lot have, you lot 'ave treated me right."

"Every...time," the former avatar rasped, "You stop... moving here longh enough. You 'die' an... c-come back." Her jaw twisted and clammed shut and she was silent for a moment as she fixed it. "Iss diffren. The wor- worl iss diffren."

Her single eye stared at him, unblinking. "I'fe... beehn back twenty-eigh timeh. " There was a hint of a smile, though there wasn't very much tissue. "Hun-dhed of yearh." She was visibly struggling to speak. "T-thih iss my -" She coughed and hacked and one of her ribs cracked and fell away. "S-s-secoh time here - ih-ihn thiss one." Her voice was growing fainter and, with agonizing slowness, she gestured him closer. "Pleease."

He walked and knelt down next to her, seeing that she didn't have much time, but her words of warning were beginning to weigh on him. Stopping of movement. Stillness. Sleep. How much time did Ailet have? It was a conscious thought in the back of his head, ticking away as he took time listening to the girl. He didn't have an internal clock like the mad scientist, but he had a overractive anxious mind that continued to tick, as he tried to focus on the now.

"I'm 'ere. In case everythin' gets fucked up, tell me your name, n' whatever else you got on your mind. I need to move 'er sooner rather than later." he spoke with a sense of urgency, but also pity for this poor soul. Whatever crimes she may have committed, eternal suffering was not right, nor was it just.

"F-fuck that. I-I'fe spenh thiss... lo-lonh an I fuck-fuckin' cracke ih!" She rasped a triumphant laugh. "T-hhis bohy'sss done." Weakly she twitched her more-or-less skeletal toes. "I t-tellh hyou how you cah geh ough-tt o' here. You...rip this heahd... off a-ahn t-take ih wiff hyou. We'h aww gonna h-hl-live aghain." Her bony hand grabbed him by the collar with what strength she had left. "C-comprende?" It fell back and her head lolled a bit to the side. "T-they c-caww me An-ch- Anjeluun. I fuckin' f-foundehd L-Lhuuntiil."

Tommy's look of caution and concern quickly shifted to a wicked grin. "You fuckin' bet. We're gettin' outta here n' I've never said no to receiving head." with a semblence of respect for the girl, dirty joke aside. All this time, she'd never given up. Never stopped hoping, believing. He would carry her hopes and dreams out of this wretched fucking place, not just for her but to spite the bastards that had put them there. He grabbed her head and swiftly detached it from the rest, beginning to tie it to his waist like a bag. "Tommy. Similar to yourself, I'm a bit of a fookin legend as well. Let's go move the scrap horn 'fore she vanishes, n' we can talk all about it." he gleefully spoke for a man who'd just decapitate another. He began walking back to Ailet, informing this hundreds of year old woman with tales of his triumphs along the way, and with yet greater appreciation for the Yasoi. They were different, and they were a little weird, but they were his kinda people, aside from the leg-thievery.

"T-then you've never beehn to... Luuntil," she rasped by way of reply. After that, she was subjected to his barrage. "May...be someday, hyou can hear abouh the t-t-time I k-killeh a D-death p-arroht wiff my ba-bare hh-ahnds."

Ailet was no longer sleeping, however. The moment that she'd heard the bit about 'dying' if she remained still for too long, her eyes had fluttered open. In exactly one-point-four seconds, she was on her foot and moving, hopping a few steps before twisting to notice Tommy. Quickly, she grabbed her crutches and hurried over. "Who's the... head honcho?" she inquired, tilting her head to one side.

"Another piece of charmin' one legged tree candy. Anje, meet Ailet, Ailet, meet Anje." he smiled, shifting to the side so that the two ladies could face each other. "She's a smart cookie, like you. Says she's got a plan, so I think you two'll hit it off somethin' fierce." he strode up to Ailet, second head in tow and raised her from his belt so she could speak to his compatriot with a little more dignity.

Ailet immediately dropped into a crouch. "Anjeluun'asaan'tenjaxii?"

"What's... leff of her." The head seemed to be speaking better now that it no longer needed to support a desiccated body.

"Honoured predecessor." The young woman bowed her head. Then, abruptly, she stood. "Thomas, there is something I must show you," she said simply, starting to unbutton her blouse, "and only you."

She crouched back down. "Surely, Lady Anjeluun, you will not disappear if we leave you for a few minutes beneath this tree." Ailet stood.

For all his words, confident remarks, dirty jokes and general confidence about the matter, it crumpled completely when Ailet began to take the initiative. Truth be told, he was not over his feelings toward Edyta Laska, even after a month apart. They were never a couple, even if he'd pined for her without her knowledge. There was something about the situation that felt intrinsically wrong to him

But, he was still a man. He was still sleazy, cheap and easy to barter with. Both his conflicting emotions, as well as his unease at the prospect of her suggestion in HELL of all places made what would have been an awfully easy decision at an earlier point in his life terribly complicated for him.

"Aite, aite.. I shoulda picked it up earlier that you were into that kinda shit, and believe me, I fuckin' like it... but is right now really the time? I mean, y'know, I'm fuckin' down... but she's here..." he spoke, gesturing to the head. He didn't want to do something crude, like turn her away the same way a young couple shifts the stuffed animals on a bed before getting freaky "Actually, scratch that, I'm sure she'll be fine." he spoke, reluctantly, his base urges winning his battle of morals, before untying Anje and setting her down. He looked to her with an expression that conveyed both his conflicted excitement and a semblence of silent apology, before he began to stroll toward Ailet.

"I was relying on your biological urges," Ailet said, leading him behind a tree. "I know that I'm asymmetrical and not particularly attractive, but your struggles indicate something less hormonal in nature." The statement itself was more matter-of-fact than questioning, but she did seem to be questioning Tommy, in a sense.

Once he had joined her out of both sight and earshot, she pulled him close with one hand and did her buttons back up with the other. "We will follow her advice," she remarked. "We will use it." She let him go. "But there is a reason you were condemned by only one God and she by all five." She was marginally taller than Tommy, but they were nearly eye-to-eye, though she did not look at him directly. For a moment, her unsentimental facade cracked. "Anjeluun'asaan'tenjaxii knows about the entire unsavoury system in Tarlon because she pioneered it. I will not take her back into the living world."

Betrayal. He'd resolved himself to make this decision at the invitation of the woman, and he was immediately blindsided by sudden morality. It was jarring to him, to be faced with precarious bullshit reasoning such as 'being condemned by a god' or more. What did it matter? "I don't fuckin' appreciate that, y'know. I took your invitation quite seriously, n' for the record, you're plenty attractive. Least to me." he sulked out, his feelings on this being quite plain.

"Use 'it'? She's a person too, y'know! Like me, or you, or any of the other bastards down here. We're all fuckin' sinners, Ailet. Does that mean we deserve eternal fuckin' torture cos we pissed off some big bastard at the top, or five of em? Nah." he pinched his brow to avoid getting too frustrated with the girl, and the situation at large. "The only reason I spared her to begin with was cos she was concerned for you. She thought you mighta been the avatar, whatever the fuck that means.".

He took another moment to compose himself, but he took a deep breath and let himself cool own. "I'm not gonna pretend to know your struggles n' systems n' all the other complicated convoluted leg thieving cabal shit." he paused as he got in her face, eye to eye, resolute in his viewpoint. "But I'm not also gonna condemn someone who's helpin' us get out of here off of, what, knowing about something? Morality? I know you're not of that mind, Ailet. We make that decision at the end of our journey, together. Do I make myself fuckin' clear?" he put a hand on her shoulder and emphasized that word. Together. He wasn't here to be her lackey, and she wasn't there to be his. They were individuals united by common cause.

Ailet recoiled from his touch. She backed up a step like a cornered animal. "You mistake my warning for sentimentality or emotional involvement." She tilted her head to the side. "That monster is manipulating you, the same way she manipulated our entire society nine-hundred-thirty years ago, and the same way there is a high probability she will do exactly that again." She regarded him doughtily, knuckles white around the grips of her crutches. "I have no desire to see her suffer. I am, in fact, perfectly indifferent. What I desire even less, however, is for her to escape and cause further harm to the world and to people such as myself." She narrowed her eyes challengingly.

He saw the way she recoiled from his touch, and pulled his hand back, looking shamefully to the side. No matter how angry he was, speaking to someone like that was uncalled for. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten ya." he muttered, before she continued to speak further. But again, the way she described the situation bothered him on a personal level. It was easy enough to see that it bothered her as well. As much as she pretended this wasn't personal, he could very much tell it was, at least in some way. For however smart this girl was, human emotions were not something even the smartest people could fully wrap their heads around and comprehend.

"And we base that on what, exactly? She manipulated me by bein' concerned for you on our first meetin'? I'm a sucker for pretty girls like you, not for fuckin' withered husks." he gestured wildy, trying to wrap his head around her thought process here. There was a lot he didn't know about these people. "Again, you call 'er anythin' but her name, but how much do you know her? Neither of us lived back then. Do you honestly believe some fuckers in the Oriflem managed to tame a fuckin' dragon out in the wilderness? Or that there were one hundred thousand Eskandr fuckin' raiders? They even told me in the classes that the past is all a perspective thing." he continued to rant to put home his point, because he was frustrated, but his tone remained softer than before. He still felt remorseful about prior.

This girl could have been him. "Wanting to see her suffer, and not wantin' her to get out of here are the same thing, Ailet. I could be as much of a monster as you think that chick is, but because some twat's not written a book about deeds I did 10 years ago from his own viewpoint, y'don't know that, do ya." he paused, out of breath and a little teary eyed from this whole conversation. He wished it was what he thought it was before he went into it.

Ailet just stood there for a moment, utterly wordless. She blinked.

She blinked again and her fingers constricted.

"The manipulation is emotional, not physical."

She blinked, fingers loosening and tightening around the grips of her crutches.

"She likely does not care for anything but herself if her behavioural patterns from life carry over. Any concern that she appeared to show for me was likely strategic."

She blinked.

Ailet would not meet his eyes. Again, her fingers flexed. "But whatever," she sighed. "Maybe we have incomplete information." She shrugged, pointedly relaxing her grip. "She's your responsibility, though." She pushed her glasses up her nose. "So I genuinely hope you're right." She began to turn. "I'll play nice. Don't worry."

With that, she reached up, tousled her hair, and undid a couple of her buttons until her tits were all but hanging out. Looking back at Tommy's face momentarily, her eyes went to the ground. "I'm... sorry if I did... stuff like her. I hadn't considered, and I will in the future."

Then, she let out a loud giggle, rushing around the hedges and stopping as if to fix her belt. "Tommy, stahp!" she called out, grinning back at him. "We need to get serious! Why don't we go talk to her now?" She took a few large strides, swinging jauntily back on her crutches with an almost-enviable lightness and joy. For a moment, her face wasn't visible to the skull beneath the tree. She shot Tommy an apologetic look.

"Ailet... thank you." he paused, before interjecting once more. "If you truly believe she's the same person they say she was, then I'll heed ya words. I don't wanna be made a fuckin' fool of." he nodded, as she begun to undo a button. His eyes focused toward it, and then another button came undone. He'd almost forgotten about that, but then, again, she spoke and it struck a pang in his heart. He simply shook his head and smiled.

This girl was special. Not at all like Edyta, but she had a certain charm that he couldn't help find endearing. And then she began to play the ruse, and he felt obligated to play along. He pulled his pants down a couple notches, undid his belt, tussled his hair and ruffled his shirt so it looked as if it'd been pulled on. At least, what remained of it. "I thought you said if we were quick, we could sneak in a round two or three, y'know? I don't normally finish that fast! Promise!" he laughed back at her, He returned that look she gave with one of his own, with slightly more contemplation in it. He hoped they were who he thought they were, who they might have been pretending to be rather than what they could be. Her and Anjeluun both.

But maybe he was just being hopeful. People were shit, after all.




hey found their way back to the skull that was all that remained of Anjeluun and Ailet played her part... quite well. "I... think the gods do ih as a m-mocking thingh." the skull proclaimed. "The world that you see is a bit withered, Tommy." She could not turn to look at Ailet, but she addressed her nonetheless. "Yours looks pretty fresh, though. Right?"

The Osaian nodded.

"Mine is a barr-hen w...wasteland, but I canh sssee it as a result. Beneat-th the grass, every once in a while, there is an ou- ouh... outline of an h -arrow. I hwas f-following them when... my leg s-seized up." Her single bloodshot eye flicked between the two as best it could. "T-those aren' hh- in there j-just for... laughs. I th-think they lead to the way out."

"Then they oughta lead to the sun, right?" he spoke, before thinking for a moment. Why would they leave arrows in the ground? In order to see them, you have to had been here a while, and those are the people that are fully condemned to this place. Why give them a way out? Maybe they were there just for laughs. "We can give it a go, but I don't think they'd do it outta the kindness of their hearts. By my mind, god's wanna keep us nasty fuckin' sinners away from an exit, not put conveniently placed arrows leadin' there. Unless they're dumb shits." he snorted with a chuckle. "Whadd'ya think, hot stuff? Wanna try it, or reckon it's a ruse?" he grinned at Ailet and gave her a wink to sell the act.

Ailet's cheeks turned red, but she did nothing to acknowledge what was - of course - a purely biological reaction. She considered. "Do these arrows lead in one solid trail or do they come from all directions?"

"I.... wasn't ec-c-xactly the most mobile," Anjeluun allowed, "but there ss-eemed to be m-multiple... trails thah con-f-verged."

Ailet twisted. "They lead to the place where one's perspective allows her - or him - to 'walk into the sun', so to speak." She pushed her glassed up her nose and furrowed her brow. "That must be it."

Her fingers loosened and tightened on the grips of her crutches a couple more times. "I hypothesize that, given the manner of the repetitive cycle in this place, someone needs to come in and 'reset' the 'dead'. That's their entrance and exit and it's only viewable once an instance of reality has degraded enough to make escape all but impossible for the unfortunate soul."

She glanced at Tommy and even at... the head, and grinned triumphantly. "I could be entirely off-base and even making an utter ass out of you and me by assuming, but I believe that this theory is our likeliest chance." She slipped the glasses from her nose, reached into her pocket, and pulled out another pair: tinted. Then, Ailet raised both of her crutches in a single smooth motion, pointing them in the same direction with a flourish. "Let's fuckin' ride."

This girl was impossible to read. Whether she actually liked him and the advances was a mystery, but he'd always been clueless when it came to women, just like most men. Regardless, that occupied his mind for their hypothesis and conversation. He was largely out of his depth here, and very glad to have two smarter ladies along for the ride with him. Still, he interjected about a 'resetter' becausse it was an earnestly good point. "So, like a janitor right? I mean, makes sense n'all but it also kinda frightens me. If they're cleanin' the place, there's usually a lock and key. You think we gotta jump this hypothetical motherfucker?" he laughed, a little proud of himself for using one of the many big words that Ailet seemed to spout.

"Still though, that's why yer the brains. Couldn't 'ave figured it out on my own. Good shit, sunshine. If you're wrong, I won't 'old it against ya." he went to pat her on the shoulder, but hesitated, and quickly pulled his hand away, instead settling for a finger gun her way and a wink.

Ailet smiled back and made her own finger guns. She hustled over to her backpack, picked it up and, after a brief detour for Tommy's sake that left him looking hale and hearty, they were on their way.

"Twenty degrees left!" called Anjie.

They walked.

"Right!" called Anjie.

They turned.

"No, no! Wait!" called Anjie. "Backtrack to the last one." Sorry."

There were huffs and groans.

Gradually, they made their way there. Gradually, Ailet ran through her second water bottle. She stopped to nap, snuggling into Tommy's shoulder beneath a great oak tree that, to her, was still beautiful but, to Anjeluun, was nothing more than a dried husk.

When she was woken, for they could not afford to linger too long in one place, they continued. Their only real gauge of time was their one living member's water consumption and an attack by a maddened corpse that had no chance of succeeding. Tommy got to use him for sustenance.

Gradually, they made their way there. Gradually, Ailet's third water bottle dwindled. Still, they walked, Anjeluun dutifully calling out directions, but her voice was growing weak and raspy again. It was after waking from her third nap that Ailet shook out the last drops from her bottle and shot Tommy a concerned look.

The 'head' of their expedition assured them that they were close, though: very close. The arrows had converged, and both could see plainly that the area was hilly.

They walked.

Then, in a moment filled only by the sound of their footsteps, came the raspy voice of Anjeluun. "I..." she grated, barely above a whisper. "I'm... s-sorreh. I c-can'h s-s-see."
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The Prelude




3 days of training in secret, Desmond had access to an arsenal of weapons that he could not even begin to imagine. He wanted to take every single one, he wanted to play with every single new toy given to him, yet this was the armory of Eshiran, so he could only train with them during this time. Desmond had all the weapons the collective knowledge of life and death had, yet he needed to choose what would be his weapons to succeed. From blades and swords with guns mounted in them, to miniature cannons, to guns that seemed as advanced as the ones he was given by the Sirrahi. From simple weapons to weapons made from kites, wires, chains, and even tools known for gardening.

Any tool one person could think to fight another, they will do all they can to make it work, so they have it in the armory. Desmond took every weapon he could, played with them all and trained with them more. Every waking hour, every sleeping moment, every single second of his life, was to fight. Now here? He could do it all, constantly without failure, without worry, he could play with anything, and if it would kill him, he would come back.

Edyta and Desmond trained like madmen, they fought and used weapons they were not used to. They needed to become proficient enough with other weapons to never show off their true skills. For Desmond, this was his life. He never knew what he would have at any time in a fight. He has dueled countless opponents in the academy, he has been jumped on his walks, he has been forced to fight at night with no light, and being raided by the enemy. He has needed to learn to fight with chairs, bottles, pitchforks, shovels, and hoes. Hiding in plain sight was a weapon, a tool that required one to learn more tools. And it showed here, yet he took to certain weapons with some fondness, out of his own comfort, or more so, out of some familiarity of another using them.

After days of fighting, and endless hours of training, with no breaks, no rest, and no sleep. They spent their 3 days filled with only fighting each other like maniacs. Using death itself as a tool to forgo sleeping, resting, and even the need to eat. They trained like maniacs, as right before the day of the tournament, they had finally rested. For a few hours, they walked the city, and had a view of the heaven that for one, they always dreamed of, and for the other, never believed in.





Desmond and Edyta chose different paths, Edyta wished to watch the matches, she wanted to try and watch to see if she could find any weaknesses or specific things she could do to increase her chances of victory. For Desmond, he knew what it meant to rest, as he walked the city. The bazaar was marvelous, filled with countless wonders, as it was more lively than even some of the greatest cities he could think of. Even Ersand’Ernise paled in comparison, it made sense, not only did every soul that could be here in a celebration, but then from 6 other heavens, souls of countless warriors and other heavens came to this occasion. Desmond walked the streets, with nothing on him but his clothes and a smile. He took off into the Bazaar and there, he had nothing, yet it required nothing. Here in this land, you could have anything you want, the people here received food when they wanted, items, trinkets, tools, and even money. All one needs to do is wish it, then it will appear, so Desmond walked the streets, wished for money, and spent it. A simple life really, there was no struggle unless you wished it. There was no worry unless you asked for it. It was a good life, yet, Desmond wasn’t sure of this feeling. As he walked the streets, it felt like something was missing. He couldn’t tell what it was, what it could have been, yet as he saw the countless people moving, completely carefree and excited about the countless events, he felt strange.

Desmond stopped and looked up to the sky, it was as blue as one expected, the air was as cool as one wanted, and everything felt perfect. And yet as he stands there, it all felt so hollow. He felt like there was nothing for him to do, he could fight, he could eat, he could do as he pleases, yet there was nothing to do. There is nothing to change, there is no true conflict, this was heaven, and there was nothing to do more.

Desmond’s thoughts were broken as he heard a woman with a high-pitched and somewhat cutsey voice call out to him, ”Hey! Hey kid!”

Desmond tossed his head as he saw flying above the crowd of people a small woman with red hair, small white wings, and a small leather book and quill as he flew over towards Desmond. Desmond tilted his head as he said, ”Delli ansim?”

The woman neared and almost flew back in confusion as she said, ”What?!”

Desmond sat there for a moment as he looked to the woman who seemed confused with his response.

The woman waited a moment longer before she began to laugh, ”Yes! Delli ansim you are!”

Desmond waited a moment, he realized that maybe that was some descriptor instead of some term that Numi used. She did laugh as well when he called himself that as well. Maybe it was something that was calling someone dumb, since when he heard Numi say that he was falling from the sky. Desmond tilted his head, “Hmm? Does that mean nothing?”

The woman waved her hand as she finished laughing, ”Ah, no, sorry, yeah it is just a name of endearment. I didn’t expect you to say something like that though! That’s probably why you got that aura!”

Desmond looked to the woman, she was floating and flapping her wings with a big smile. Desmond began to have a smile grow on his face as he said, ”What kind of aura do you mean?”

”You have the aura of a winner! A real champion’s presence and face. Trust me! The odds are in the favor!”, the small angel like woman spoke in a great cheerful voice filled with an incredible amount of pride in her words.

Desmond nodded and smiled as he said, ”Yeah? Well how many winners have you picked out?”

The woman’s smile slightly wavered and shifted as she said, ”Ah…well…I’ve seen 1 get close. Well 2. But those were unlucky breaks! But you! You have something different. Something greater!”

Desmond nodded his head, his smile began to shift to a curious smirk with a cocked eyebrow, ”How long have you been making odds and betting?”

The woman’s face slightly shifted more now, ”Ah…well…maybe 3000 years?”

Desmond nodded his head as he said, ”I see…”

Desmond began to walk away as the Odd’s maker began to follow Desmond, ”Hey! Wait up pal! Wait! I’m serious!”

Desmond shook his head as he chuckled, ”Well, if you wanna bet, you can. I guess you can follow me since I got nothing else to do. But what’s ya name?”

The woman was taken aback for a moment but then a smile came on her face as she flew up next to Desmond and said, ”Ah! Maryzel!”

Desmond nodded his head, ”Good to meet you, name’s Desmond. Desmond Catulus”.

Desmond and Maryzel began to walk around. She constantly talked and asked him about his plans in the fights. Desmond kept her in the dark, always making jokes about the different fighters. Desmond made slight innuendos, gestures, and other things as they walked the streets and watched fighters as they passed by.

”Why aren’t you watching the trainers more? Don’t you want intel on your competition?” Maryzel asked as she flew around Desmond looking out around him and watching other competitors, seeming to constantly write down things she sees them use.

”Why should I? It will do me no good”, Desmond answered matter of factly.

”Well seeing others will allow you to know what you need to look out for!” Maryzel squealed out as she sees more fights happening, many of which could be great for information gathering.

Desmond chuckles as he says, ”Let me ask you. Statistically, how much will that actually help me?”

Maryzel takes a moment before saying, ”If you watch every fight, 100% chance of winning!”

Desmond chuckles once more as he shakes his head, ”No. Me watching the fights will give me some insight, however, it will also make me too focused on the possibilities. Think about it, how many fights do I need to win to face the Elites?”

Maryzel thinks for a moment, ”You’ll need to win 8”.

Desmond then lightly rolled his hand, ”Out of how many fighters?”

”256 competitors”, Maryzel said as she seemed slightly confused but still following.

”So out of those 256 competitors, I will need to face 8 of them. Meaning I have somewhere near a 4 percent chance of watching the right people I need to. Within the 4 percent chance, I need to hope that I find something that I can use within the time I watched”. Desmond said as he lightly chuckled.

Maryzel looked to him as she listened further.

Desmond gestured out towards the rest of the city, ”Let’s say I spend that time relaxing and letting my mind wander. How much do you think that will increase my odds of winning?”

Maryzel answered hesitantly, ”Uhm…I don’t know…zero?”

Desmond laughed, ”Hahaha, true statistically it is hard to say, but it is also hard to say otherwise. What if that rest is the difference between winning and losing?”

Maryzel then points out, ”What if the watching is the difference between winning and losing?”

Desmond lightly flicked his hand towards Maryzel, ”Well, let’s say if that’s true. With the 4 percent chance of it helping to watch the fights and the near 0 percent chance of not watching, I’d say that there is a low chance anything I do extra now will change much of anything. So why not enjoy the time as I see fit? After all, if you focus too hard, you miss the little things. Besides, aren’t we in heaven? Why be so worried?”

Maryzel nodded her head as she now followed Desmond, still curious of what he meant. In 4 hours, he will have to fight constantly. He had to be prepared to face some of the greatest challenges the gods could ever give. And all Desmond wants to do is buy small trinkets, and walk around the city.

Yet as she watched him walk, how he relaxed, it looked as if she was seeing a man walk slowly through time. As the city moved at a fast pace, constantly swirling around him, Desmond walked through it all without a care. It seemed like the city moved around him, as it moved one way, he moved against it. A single man walked with such a carefree attitude in the city, it seemed as if he was in his own world frozen in time.

This was it-, Maryzel thought, This is my dark horse.




The Climb to the Top




4 hours, of relaxing and taking in the sights of the world, using his time to not even worry. Yet as a bell rang it walled all to the colosseum, and a voice then rang out through everyone’s mind.

”ONE AND ALL! THE TOURNAMENT OF HEROES BEGINS!”


Maryzel turned to Desmond, nervous but excited, ”Okay! Looks like it’s showtime! Let’s head over to see who your first opponent is!”

Desmond nodded his head as the two left to enter the colosseum. When they entered, Desmond was guided down to the underground area to await his time. For many arenas like this, the gladiatorial arena was quite glamorous, yet the underground area for the fighters would often be quite lackluster. Yet within heaven, something like that would do no justice to what would be the hall of heroes.

The halls of the area were made of gorgeous white granite, the floor was made of a soft wood that felt quite nice under the feet. The area had a sense of elegance to it, and many within it were relaxing in ways they saw fit. Some enjoyed quiet moments, others enjoyed food and beverages, while some even enjoyed the company of others, without the care of anyone else.

Desmond just walked, caring for none others, as he was guided to a small room that would be his area he will return to after each fight. Desmond looked around the room, it had a bed, a chair, a chest, and a wardrobe. He sighed as he walked to the bed and threw himself onto the bed. He laid there for a moment as he looked at the chest, he swung his legs around as he stood up and opened the chest, within was just a small note, ‘This chest will be your arsenal’.

Desmond closed the chest and thought of a dagger, as the moment he opened the chest up again, within was a dagger of the exact shape and size he thought of. He smiled, as again he closed the chest, and thought of a weapon. As he opened it, what appeared was a large shovel. Desmond began to chuckle to himself as he took the shovel and began to swing it. It was heavy, weighted in certain ways that were not quite right. He put the shovel back in and began to think of it again, this time modifying it to better suit his needs when wielded. He did this over and over again, changing the shape of the shovel, the weight, the size, and even what materials he would use. Making it a weapon all its own.

Desmond did this over and over again, making a new weapon and redesigning it, over and over, to make the perfect version for himself. Then he placed it next to the wall before he summoned another weapon. Repeating as he waited for nearly an hour before he was summoned for his first fight. Maryzel came knocking and opened as she said, ”Hey kid, your match is going to begin-”

Maryzel was stopped in her tracks as she saw the countless weapons flooding the room. As in the center was Desmond as he turned and said, ”Oh, hey! Alright, how about you pick what I’ll use hu?”

Maryzel looked amongst them all as she saw something that caught her eye, ”A…shovel?”

”Alright, shovel it is”, Desmond said with a confident smile as he grabbed it and walked out.

Maryzel followed flustered, ”Wait wait wait! I didn’t mean for you to use a shovel I was curious why you had one!”.

Maryzel tried to pull on Desmond to make him return to his room and grab a different weapon, yet he walked on. He even began to laugh as he said, ”Too late, we’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry”.

Maryzel followed, yelling and with worry as they neared the entrance to the colosseum. There stood countless armored warriors, fighting with blades and weapons larger than themselves. Each preparing for the fight of their life as they are prepared to prove their existence.

”ON ONE SIDE IS THE GIANT OF HOGH MUNKHELAD!”


The colosseum shook and rattled with the excitement of multiple different heavens worth of warriors roaring with anticipation.

”THE BEAST OF THE KILLING FIELDS!”


Maryzel came flying over to Desmond as she tried to plead with him one more time, even over the roars and applause of the countless souls, ”Come on, we can get you a different-”.

”YORM KALLIGAR!”


Maryzel then saw the smile on Desmond’s face. This was not the face of some idiot, some fool who never saw combat. It almost made Maryzel shutter, as the face Desmond made seemed almost inhuman.

”ON THE OTHER SIDE IS THE BLACK WOLF!”


Desmond’s hand gripped his weapon with such vigor that Maryzel could swear she heard the handle had cracked. His eyes were transfixed and that was like a predators.

”THE DARK HORSE!”


Desmond wore a smile more wicked than any other. It reached from ear to ear as the moment the gated doors lifted open, an intense pressure washed over the both of them as Maryzel shrunk back in fear. While Desmond walked forward into the ring, against the overwhelming pressure.

”DESMOND!!!!”


Desmond walked into the overwhelming and exhilarating scene of the world’s greatest combat arena. He could feel the energy flow into him as his smile grew, and his eyes landed upon a man who stood somewhere near 5 foot 2, giant for a Hegelan. His eyes were erupting in fire as the man roared with such power it shook the ground. Desmond could tell this man was monstrous in terms of power.

And Desmond smiled even bigger.

As the two combatants took up their weapons, they faced off, prepared to prove their existence.

As the man roared in fury.

Desmond smiled so greatly, that when a shadow was cast over the arena, his face looked like that of a demons.

A Devil, smiling. Ready to prove who was the monster.

[From here you do not need to read any of the hiders. However they will provide context to certain things as they are some of the fights and interactions Desmond had during his tournament to face the Elite 6]









As Demsond had battled his way through the many trials to now meet a friend in combat. All he wished for was for one of them to make it to the Elites. No matter who is was, Tommy was their prize.
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Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by Th3King0fChaos
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Th3King0fChaos The Weird

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The Showdown




It began with a drumline, and then flags, trumpets blaring, and tulip petals falling from the sky. First marched the champions of Tosatsu, and then the champions of the Darhannics, the Angics, the Femrigr, and the Chosen Creed. Finally came the Quentic Greats. Each group was led by its current champion: those who made up the Elite Six. They filed in and raised their weapons. The arena thundered with applause, cheers, and the stomping of feet.

It continued like this for a little bit longer, a few of the newest arrivals not quite sure what to make of it until they noticed the others looking up the sky with an anticipatory reverence. Suddenly, two towering beams of pure light leapt down from above and, from them appeared two colossal six-winged angels.

Valenand, archangel of Vigor, and Forticand, archangel of Bravery, alighted on a platform in the stands. They glanced over at each other, smiled and nodded. The path of champions parted and the combatants entered to thunderous cheers and salutes: two friends who'd trained for this, who shared both a goal and a burning desire to win, but only one could...

"LET THE FINAL BEGIN!!"


Desmond knew this would come, and he was filled with both excitement and wariness. He made his way to the arena as there he would see Edyta once more. He smiled as lightly leaned on a spear and said, "Seems we've finally made it".

He kicked the bottom of the spear and flared it for a moment before taking it into both of his hands, "Let's dance!"

Edyta smiled sidelong at Desmond. The crowds had liked her for her clever ruthlessness and panache just as they'd admired him for his innovation and doggedness. The cheering was about evenly split. "Ballroom, ballet, or square?" She grinned, extracting two wicked-looking sickles - Zamrazenie and Palenie - from her robes and her face became serious. "Eshiran empower you, Desmond." She marched towards the platform where the two archangels watched, surrounded by pentangels, and bowed deeply before them. Taking her cue, Desmond did the same. For a moment, as both bent low, their eyes met. Then, Edyta straightened.

Then, Edyta disappeared.

Desmond stretched as he began to walk forward. He looked around as he thought about the different areas that she would come. He spun his weapon around as he began strike the ground with his spear tip.

The strikes kicked up the dirt and created dust in the air. Desmond magnetized the dust to give himself a buffer for his sensing when Edyta does try to appear.

"Already trying to end this?", Desmond called out to the wind.

"I'm here, Desmond," came her voice from somewhere to the north-northeast. There was a fantastic wave of heat and force and the dust crystallized into swirling shards of glass. "I'm not always in greyspace."

Desmond chuckled, "Oh~! spooky~!"

Desmond began to leap back, taking a few moments as he needed to leave the dusty area he created before it was turned into glass as well.

A smile came to his face as he dug his hand into his bag. Out it came with a glove on it and holding a dagger. He reeled back as he launched the dagger at Laska with Kinetic and Magnetic energy.

Edyta called upon her maelstrom to intercept the dagger, not yet quite willing to give away her full arsenal of tricks. At the end of the day, if it came down to a contest of magical strength, it worked to her benefit. If she could get Desmond into a tug-of-war instead of playing into his cunning, she could win.

As the dagger neared Laska's maelstrom of energy, it was melted within moments. Desmond chuckled to himself as he realized he needed to get more cleaver. He couldn't rely soley on just tricks as she was going to use her absurd power against him.

She already knew a good portion of what he could do. Tricks alone would not be enough. He needed to get either more cleaver or get more power.

So why not pull a trick out of the bag?

Desmond reached into his bag and pulled out a pistol much different that they would know from their time.

As he began to fire multiple rounds each one magnetically charged to fly in different ways to try and find an opening.

Edyta tried to move the maelstrom into the bullets' path, but there were too many for it to cover all of them. Instead, she used her skills as a binder and as a kineticist. She conjured a gas that she called 'deadening air' but that people of later times might know as sulfur hexaflouride. It was thick and would slow the bullets. It was thick and easy to manipulate with her kinetic prowess. It was thick and utterly inert to chemical reactions. It was thick and absolutely deadened magnetism. She grinned wickedly.

Desmond laughed as he continued to fire, "Love to see the creativity!"

In the midst of the firing he began to jog and try to circle around. As before he finished firing he flicked his hand. Out from his bag came 3 cleavers he would send around the other side trying to pincer Edyta.

Edyta's deadening air continued to do its work but, instead of dodging Desmond's attack, she darted forward, right at him, as quickly as she could, and leaped. A massive wave of kinetic force spread out from her in a ring shape, aiming to blast the incoming projectiles off-course and hammer Desmond in advance of her arrival in melee range or force him to focus all of his meager capacity on drawing it away.

Desmond smiled, "Real cleaver!"

Desmond had to not allow her take an advantage. He dropped his gun to prepare for Laska to come into melee range.

He allowed the cleavers to be thrown around as he drew in the kinetic energy Laska produced and sent it back out to try and put up a meager defense.

It was enough not to be thrown on his ass or flattened, yet he still felt the impact like a cudgel to the stomach.

Desmond planted his feet as he began to chemically dope himself and meet Laska in melee with his spear, "Now we're talking!"

She'd added small hooks to her sickles to catch his spear. Otherwise, she relied on her nimbleness to dodge instead of blocking, and her ability to overwhelm his magic with her own to prevent tricks. She moved to catch his spear with one sickle, twist, and keep in motion, either cracking it, wrenching it away, or forcing him to retreat, while aggressively zeroing in with the other. All the while, she tried backing him towards one of the arena walls, a whirling dervish of fire and ice, threatening his weapon with one of hers and his body with the other.

As the sickles came down onto Desmond's weapon and then up it, he realized that she was either going to disarm him or kill him.

Neither option was a good one, yet he needed to make a choice. And a weapon is just a weapon. A tool is just a tool.

Desmond let his weapon go as he lunged and dipped back to dodge the sickle. As his hand slid across the shaft of his spear, he coated it in an invisible fire before he let it fully go.

He moved to put his back against the wall as he put up both his hands, beginning to to enhance them with kinetic magic to prepare to deflect.

"Man, do I love a woman who can kick my ass".

Her sickle slid down the spear's shaft, but Edyta did not grin. She did not lose focus. She slashed at Desmond, expecting him to push back, but then she felt it - a sudden heat - and realized what he'd done: the same trick from his earlier match. If the deadening air she'd filled the arena with made it burn less, it still burned.

She had been trained to deal with pain, however. The skin reddened and bubbled and cried out in silent pain, but she grit her teeth and, without stopping, plowed right through it, drawing the coldfire away and hammering Desmond with a slash that he could...

not

quite

stop.

The sickle missed his head. Desmond was too quick to get caught like that and he managed to partially deflect it, but it sunk deep into his shoulder and Edyta's pupils dilated instinctually at the sight of blood. She flung the spear free and spun on the spot, hoping to rip the sickle out for maximum damage, fling him, and plough her other one in. "Man, do I love a man whose ass I can kick."

Desmond gritted his teeth as he was slashed deeply in the shoulder by one of her sickles and was just barely able to defend himself from the other. As the moment when Laska tried to rip it out and fling him, Desmond went with it. He used his own physical abilities plus a further kinetic boost to launch himself and flip himself over Edyta.

His face winced for a moment before he was upside down and smiling at Edyta, "Glad we're a good match then".

Desmond pulled his hand up as in that moment 5 thin wires of crimson and gold light ignited. Leading from his hand swinging around from where he was and past somewhat around Edyta.

He pulled on the heated and electrified wires to try and wrap them around her further as an attempt to slice her.

The deadening air continued to blunt Desmond's attacks, but it didn't stop them. He had the same pain tolerance that she did and had turned desperate defense into offense *so* quickly. One of the wires scored her across the shoulder, leaving a bloody slash, and her muscles seized up for a moment, but she boosted herself free with kinetic magic, scrambling away just before they could wrap around her. She needed something new. She needed to put him away without using the ability that nobody knew she possessed, despite what Manfred might've said at the start.

She reached with her magics for the blood bubbling out of Desmond's shoulder and started to pull it from his body and his manas' grasp. She pulled, now, with *everything* that she had. She pulled, and began to cast her most powerful spell.

Desmond's face began to wince and his eyes bulged as he could feel the blood be pulled from him.

He couldn't even conceive the thought of him winning a contest of strength of manas between himself and Laska.

He couldn't win like this. Not without doing something *crazy*.

This had to be all or nothing.

In this moment of pain and desperation, Desmond uses her dulled awareness and sense of pain to began to use chemical magic to begin to dull her thoughts further, to skew what she sees.

When Desmond landed, he came down sliding as he used his magic to try and fight the pull of blood Laska was doing, he couldn't let himself be blood drawn.



One moment, she was on the precipice of victory. The next, a cleaver was slicing through her trailing hair as she leapt into greyspace. Only a preternatural danger sense honed over years of combat and training had warned her. It was purely instinctual. She hadn't thought.

*Desmond, you magnificent bastard.* He always had irons in the fire. He did and she loved it, but... she'd made a critical error. The cat was out of the bag, now. She was a greyborn. She'd outed herself, and there was no un-revealing her trump card. Even if she won this match, she'd go into her matched against the Elite Six with no real bullets left in her proverbial gun, and combatants that experienced definitely *would* have fought a greyborn before.

Desmond hadn't revealed his trump card yet. What they'd discussed during their training, what they'd worked out, what they'd agreed on: he still had it. She'd blown it. She'd blown it when she was the stronger one! She'd blown it when she had the better chance. They needed to win to get to that hell and get Tommy back from it. She'd move mountains if she needed to.

Edyta Laska smiled. *And that's it, really: you're smarter than me.* She didn't have much energy to work with, so she waited. She waited just long enough that Desmond might momentarily let his guard down - that he might try to set something bigger up. Then, she'd leap out and catch him mid-cast and one of them would win or one would lose. She served the God of Death, after all, and how *glorious* it would be to experience that for herself without truly dying!

*Three*

*Two*

*One.*

Into the breach!

Desmond laughed and smiled as he said, "Looks like it's my win".

Desmond flared his hand as the cleavers were let loose and were sent flying in different directions. He chuckled to himself as he waltzed his way over to the center of the arena, binding up his shoulder wound as he prepared for the finale.

He began to waltz and stamp, kicking up dust as he magnetized it. As he moved he placed his hand into his bag as he pulled out another glove wire and put it on. He began to hum to himself as he raised his hands into the air and launched the wires high. They shimmered and shined as they streamed up and fell down gently. He twirled and spun around as he hummed. Twining and binding the wires together, forming a net around himself, like flowers in across a meadow.

Then he dropped the gloves as he pulled out 4 daggers and 2 more gloves. He threw the daggers high as he let them float there with his magic. As once more he produced the wires, twining and whirling around and other wires already set to bind the net and then finished by binding them with the daggers.

And then, he bowed.

Edyta and Desmond had trained together and, just in case they were ever to meet, she'd built up an expectation in him: that she'd do the typical greyborn thing and show up right behind him to stab him in the kidneys.

Desmond bowed and his net - deadly and intricate and exhausting to have constructed - drew inward. Edyta appeared just a split second after it cleared where she now stood: firmly outside of it. Instead of a melee attack, she did something simple: an arcane lance with all of the power she could draw on short notice. Desmond, forced to adjust his trap lest it close on *him*, did not have enough mobility or energy to stop it and the deadly beam punched clean through his abdomen.

His eyes widened. *Her* eyes widened. I've killed Desmond, she realized, and she didn't know how to feel about it. They stood there and stared at each other for an endless moment, and it occurred to her that she should probably finish him off because that wound was a slow and painful way to die.

Then, he smirked. He just smirked at her. For a moment, Edyta thought she felt unfathomable pain. The world disappeared.

Desmond leaned his head back as once more he laughed. He looked to Edyta as he said, "Sorry about that, I had to make sure you didn't feel any pain from the wires".

As there was one thin set of wire that came. Heated and electrified it was meant to cut through the center of the net after a few moments, making sure Edyta didn't have to suffer within it. However, now it had saved Desmond by cutting Laska before she could finish him.

As he tried to laugh once more he felt a pain streak through him as he looked around.

And realized, that was it. He now needed to face off against the Elite 6. Strangely, he was not nervous one bit.
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Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by Ti
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Ti Kitti

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Event: Castaway: Back to the Wreck | Location: Waters under Mehameha



Maura sat in her submersible, attending to the situation from afar. The resistance Marz and her puppet faced indicated life on the ship. Could this be the Meerami they were warned about? She sensed powerful sonic energy, reminiscent of Ayla’s abilities, used in the attack. Their intent seemed to incapacitate rather than kill.

Time passed, and Maura heard a slight squeaking noise as a partially humanoid head crept into view of the observation window. She focused on the creature as it moved further into view. The sparse interior lighting barely illuminated the figure as it slowly crept to the centre of the viewing glass.

Maura gently increased the light, shining it on the Meerami. She waved her hand toward the creature. “Olá sou Maura,” she said, using a touch of sonic magic to help her voice carry through the submersible's shell and into the water. She held a token in her hand, signifying her friendship with the locals.

The Meerami, startled by the lights, swam back a little. The creature appeared to be a tween, covered in orange and black fish-like scales. She began to use a similar sonic attack, directing it toward the submersible.

The outer hub groaned under the force of the sonic magic, but otherwise resisted it. The old man puppet next to Maura adjusted some controls. “Make sure to compensate, Papa Joey, or the bath tub, as Marz call’s it, will be made aware to everyone's senses.” The puppet gave a perfunctory salute and continued turning the dials.

The Meerami looked puzzled at the crew through the window, watching them remain unaffected. She swam in a circle, perplexed by the situation. Taking a deep breath, her gills vibrated as water passed through them, preparing for another volley.

Maura wagged her finger side to side and shook her head, gesturing at the Meerami. Little Nicky, change the colours of the light.” The puppet obeyed, switching the lights to an alarming red. “Something more serene!” she called back, and the puppet hurriedly adjusted the lens to light green and blue. “That’s better. Hopefully, it knows we are not aggressive.” The dragon puppet marched up beside Maura as she handed it the token from the locals, then it hurried off toward the back. “Now, a slow release.”

There was a clank as the torpedo tube loaded, followed by a burst of air as the trinket was pushed outside, floating toward the Meerami. The girl inspected the token in the water, swimming around it before taking it in her hands and examining it closely.

Maura waited until the girl appeared satisfied, coming to a mutual understanding. The Meerami nodded toward Maura and gestured, swimming toward the wreck, then stopping and signalling for the submersible to follow.

"It looks like she wants us to follow her," Maura said, turning to the old man puppet. "Back into the wreck, and steady as we go." The puppet adjusted the controls, and the submersible began to move slowly toward the wreck, following the Meerami's lead. Maura watched closely, her eyes flickering between the Meerami and the path ahead.

When the submarine resurfaced in the same empty plantroom, Maura opened the hatch to see the Meerami sitting by the water's edge. She tensed up for a moment as if prepared for a fight. But she relaxed quickly, maybe it was Maura's disarming demeanour, maybe she felt more in control given the merchant girl left her soundproof defence.

"Ya all don't seem like the other bozos coming to loot tha wreck." She said with a playful smile while sitting back. "Who are ya anyway?" Her accent sounded familiar.

Maura struggled to maneuver herself into a more visible position, her rollerchair making it a bit challenging. Perhaps looking vulnerable might have a disarming effect in this situation.

“My name is Maura Mercador, a Biro of Ersand’Enise,” she said, offering her hand. Unsure if the gesture was understood, she bowed her head as a backup.

She had her own thoughts about the looters targeting the wreck, but she focused on her primary mission. “Our goal here was to protect the wreck from looters,” she sighed, “but things changed. The locals wanted items from the wreck to pay for all those ships you see around you to leave.” She gestured to the surrounding waters. “The other students volunteered to help, trying to resolve the matter.”

For myself, the locals mentioned that your people are seeking refuge beneath the wreck and were in danger. So we hoped to make contact to see how we could help you.” She smiled warmly at the Meerami girl, her gesture inviting and sincere.

The Meerami shook Maura's hand. "Ersand'Enise huh. I flew the coup from that old place years ago." The youth of the girl made her exagerations fairly transparent. "Most of the other Meerami are at these islands to hide away, but I'm just stopping by for a visit." She was trying to look cool with the way she spoke as if trying to impress the older girl in front of her.

"You're here to protect the wreck but we've been doing fine enough on our own so far. A few of those Virangish come in and we put 'em to sleep, they wake up on shore come morning like nothing ever happened. Seems something has changed out there, but not sure why we'd need you." She kept a playful demeanour in spite of her words. She seemed to be enjoying the conversation.

Maura smiled at how they handled the Virangish. "That sounds hilarious! That definitely explains the tales we've heard about your people." She was clearly amused by their antics.

"The situation out there is coming to a head. The Virangish now have a powerful slaver among their number, who seems to have turned the battle around with the other ships. Very dangerous man, stronger than the students on your ship... single-handedly stronger than all of them together." She shook her head ruefully. "You might have to fight, for real."

"Look," she gestured toward a puppet of a boy who raised his head from the submersible and brought out a map. "This island here, just south of ReTan and Nikan. It is called Longwan. It is my island." She marked the location. "If you need a place to flee, you can have refuge here." The boy walked over to the Meerami, offering the map to her.

"We recommend reconsidering your stance on not asking for help, but we won't force it. We want to be friends to your people, but if my presence has overstayed its welcome, we will leave and respect your decision." She bowed respectfully to the girl.

The Meerami stuck out her tongue and gave a wink. They both had fun with the idea of setting looters to sleep.

She accepted the map from Maura and had a look over it. "Don't think I'll need this but the others could. It would be a risky migration, kinda a last resort thing. Eeaiko scouts are pretty common around these waters, ya know." Her mood turned as the gravity of the situation was slowly dawning on her. "If what you say is true about the Virangish, we might be able to fend them off but they'll definitely know we're here."

Her eyes drifted down weighing her out the options. "We still have a job to do here. Most won't leave until its done... It seems time is short now. If the locals trust you, we could use the help."

Maura smiled at the turnaround. "What needs doing?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. "My submersible might be able to carry things or pull them along, if it's a matter of transport. We also have torpedoes if you need... you know, if required." She tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "It sounds like we need to help move things along for your people."

The Meerami didn't smile back but clapped a hand a couple of times against the metal floor. "Well, I got here after this big thing washed up on shore. But from what I heard, it was run by a bunch of Hegelans hopped up on Sirrahi tech. When the ship crashed, they took what they could and abandoned ship to get outta sight. But they left a few things behind in a hurry, some that the world ought not to know about yet." She trailed off but Maura seemed to wordlessly understand that the Meerami was referring to the nuclear reactor.

A cheerful facade was donned to continue the conversation. "We're scouring the ship and making sure they didn't leave anything behind that could cause trouble. The Meerami here are a little... proud. But I think they'll see reason and take the help."

"I'm sure we could give you some trinkets to pay off those on shore if you can help us get rid of the actually dangerous stuff. Might find some loot for yourselves too." She gave a cheeky wink.

Maura thought for a moment. "Well, if that is the goal, there could be some easier solutions." She drummed her fingers on the armrest. "You could always blow it up—that usually hides evidence. But given what we sensed in there earlier, we can understand why that wasn’t an option."

She mulled it over for a moment. "You could always put the wreck out to sea." She gestured with a pulling motion, as if tugging on an invisible rope. "We could pull it from the island and allow it to sink to the bottom of the ocean. Obviously, you can continue to work on it down there, but us humans would have great difficulty."

Maura paused in thought. "The issue would be what sank the wreck. We want to hide your involvement..." She snapped her fingers. "Kaureerah! She can sing and dance around the top. They would think the Eeiako stole the wreck."

The Meerami giggled along with Maura's first two suggestions, amused by the grand bombastic solutions and not entirely scrapping them either. "I think you're gonna want to take that up with the other Meerami first or else you might get chased up and down the ship for it." She joked then extended another hand to shake. "The names Ashileen, by the way. Don't think I mentioned."

However, the Meerami's brow furrowed when Maura implied an Eeaiko was in their number. Her eyes darted side to side as if about to disclose a secret. "Wait, you didn't bring an Eeaiko with you, did ya? Did she come to the wreck too? Some of these Meerami here have bad, bad history with them." Worry was painted on her face.

Maura shook the offered hand, thrilled to have a handshake with a real life Mermaid-Dragon. So cool! She maintained a composed smile, or at least the best she could muster.

"Kaureerah is a good girl. She is exiled from her people, and she would keep the secret. Which is a good thing, as she already knows it. The locals weren’t exactly subtle in trying to hide it." She placed a hand on her face, shaking her head side to side at their terrible attempt. "Told her to stay away. Didn’t want to put her life in danger due to a misunderstanding."

"She would probably do the idea, though. She would like to resolve this without a fight. She abhors violence."

"Yeah, it ain't exactly *our* safety I'm worried about if she comes aboard..."

Her mood turned for the better, Maura sensed the girl fronting confidence. "Anyway, I'm not exactly the lady who can give you the go-ahead to start sinking this thing. You're gonna need to ask the big boss." She jumped a little, remembering the commotion echoing through the halls before she left. "Say, you got friends here, don't you? They're probably enjoying a nice nap at the moment, we oughta go tell the other Meerami that your friends."

"We have a puppet with them at the moment. Is there something we can do to let your friend know we come in peace? A word or symbol they can draw?" Maura questioned, hoping for an easy solution to the problem. "Interpretative dance may be difficult otherwise."

Ashileen seemed distant for a moment as she focused on sensing the fight on the ship. She has expected the scene of a bunch of students snoozing in a hallway, what she perceived instead caused her eyes to widen.

She began to get up with haste, not sparing a second more with idleness. "We need to go, now. If you have a puppet, try to keep your friends safe with it. I can help you navigate this place while you focus on that."

Maura blinked for a moment as Ashi started to slither away. She took one look at the vessel, as she instructed the puppets back into their piloting positions, then she began to roll herself through the vessel, making it more accessible with the gift as she went as she followed her new friend.





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Hidden 5 mos ago Post by Fallenreaper
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Fallenreaper ღ~Lil' Emotional Cocktail~ღ

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Mahal Agha & Ren Baykara


Cast Away
Location: Upon the Altin Ogul




Mahal tensed when she was set to the side and sat down. The throbbing in her shoulder radiated in waves before growing numb. She turned her head to examine it. A purple ring formed about the joint. The young girl tried to flex her fingers, finding the movement delayed. She gave a frustrated snort at the injury.

A pair of footsteps approached her, drawing Mahal's eyes up. Before her stood a Virangish officer, no more than ten years her senior, with braided yellow hair. Her right eye had a patch on it alongside some burn scars. "Give me your arm."

Mahal stretched it out toward the binder. The woman took her time examining it then drew in energy from the ocean's kinetic power. Mahal felt her tendon start to tighten and reweave back to its original state. However, compared to Lunara's or other students, the process was rather slow. Her foot tapped impatiently on the deck while she waited.

Ren Baykara stood atop the deck and smiled at their progress. Volley after volley of cannon fire had come and been directed at mages on either side of the boat, and he'd played an ample part in that. He thought since the pink one had left that he'd be engaging in this battle alone, and that was more than fine for him, but two aces that he never saw came into play.

The first had been the locals. He'd never anticipated them to sally forth, and whether that was the work of the girl that had rallied the threshers, a desperate gambit for mercy or the work of the various students, it was a play that he hadn't seen coming. They'd handily occupied a good portion of the pirate forces, and it had saved him great effort by occupying the captain.

The other was this girl who'd come on the mission alongside him. Another student that was not cowardly had made her show in the battle and managed to single handedly sink an entire ship. It was a remarkable feat, and one that he definitely took notice of. After all, his attention was only half on the battle given victory was proving to be closer and closer at hand for Virang. He walked across the deck of the ship toward her, occasionally glancing down at her and the binder as he spoke in passing to her, occasionally directing his attention back to the battle at hand with massive magical draws and kinetic expenditure that was almost second nature to the man.

"I'd recognize that accent anywhere. You're from the colonies, aren't you?" he smirked, gaze pointedly on the enemy ship. After another volley and colossal expenditure of magic, he opened his mouth once more. "It's nice to hear. You've made your mark on the battlefield, I've just one question..." there was a pointed pause as his smile dropped into a cold look of contemplation, once again directed at the pirate ship. "Where are the others, and what are they doing?

Mahal's anxiety rose when she heard Ren Baykara's voice address her. Her jawline tensed against the fear tingling across her skin. Her mind cried for calm, but her heart rattled in her chest. She hated being trapped in place. At the mention of her origins, she nodded hoping he wouldn't question her more. The hope became shattered when he asked about the others.

There was a long pause before she found her voice. "If I had to guess, either protecting the ones that had to stay at camp or taking out other pirates."

She waited for his reaction. It was mostly the truth, but not the whole truth and she prayed he didn't examine it too deeply.

Ren grabbed his chin in contemplation of her words, only pausing on them for a brief moment before his focus was needed on the battle. It was normal for people to be nervous, or afraid in his presence, such was the life of a paradigm, but there was something unnatural to this that didn't quite add up. The battle was far away from the wreck and the natives had gotten involved on their own. He didn't feel particularly special magical signatures from that side of the battle, save for the captain who'd gotten directly involved in that matter.

A thought filled his mind: What exactly were they protecting people from? - but it didn't linger in the moment. If he wanted more direct answers, he'd find them himself, right after he'd dealt with the rabble that they'd left him to clean up. Only this girl and Raffaella had done anything of note to assist, and he'd make note of that. The rest of them would have to reward his generosity, because their mark could not be felt anywhere. After another brief bout of concentration, his eyes flickered towards her though his head remained facing the enemy ship.

"I've not seen the sign of another here aside from you and the pink one." there was a contemplation, before he turned toward her, standing maybe two steps from her and the binder that was still at work on her arm. "Why is it that you're trying so hard, and they're cowering away 'protecting' the others." His gaze was cold and calculating, evaluating every possibility, but the half-truth Mahal gave seemed to distract him from the potential reality.

Mahal became quiet again, weighing her words. Ren's presence suffocated her as he loomed closer, like a thresher stalking prey. Her eyes were mindful of his location at all times. Waiting for something bad to happen, but only more questions rose. Why did the group decide it was wise to let her go alone? Did they want her to die instead? She inhaled and pushed the painful possibilities away. She leaned on the cold, hard truth of her life: No one cared enough to save her.

The girl leaned on the numbness reality gave her. A defensive behavior that helped her survive through the hard and bitter times. When Lunara, Salim, or even her mother couldn't protect her.

"I wanted to prove I wasn't a coward. I felt... guilty for running away from the fight earlier. Not all of us made it to shore immediately." The lie felt heavy on her tongue while she still avoided eye contact. "Besides, what good is the weak getting in the way of the strong? Wouldn't any mistake allow the pirates to get through?"

Diyablos, sensing her fear and concern, began to crawl his way into her lap. Six of his eight tentacles curled underneath him while the other two began to play with her free hand to distract her.

Ren clicked his tongue, audible even through the volleys of cannons and crashing ocean waves. His eyes looked at her and then at the cephalopod, and there was a hint of disgust in his expression. The weak gathered in packs, much like animals and for all her accomplishments, her reliance on another was a disappointment. As was her labeling the students as weak. A willingness to accept the status quo and simply allow others to guide their lives, was in his mind, pathetic.

"I'm here. No 'mistake' would have mattered, and you seemed to have dealt with an entire ship single-hande-" his words were interrupted by an incoming cannonball , one that came dangerously close to all four of them, that he deflected and plunged into the water. The earlier assaults hadn't allowed him to redirect it, but the more he'd been able to adjust, and the more the enemy had tired, the easier this had become. Still, it reminded him that he couldn't afford to become too lost in this conversation. "How do you feel about this? Shouldn't they be punished for leaving us Virangish to face such a threat alone?" a malicious grin took hold, as he turned his attention back to the battle.

Mahal let herself be distracted. The mention of weakness was supposed to explain their absence because she knew nothing better to say. This part wasn't covered in the plan that she could recall. Impulsively, her fingers tightened about Diyablos' tentacle for comfort. A flicker of anger brushed her fear when she spotted the disgust in his eyes. She swallowed it down as she let her indifferent mask fall into place. Upon hearing the whistling of a cannonball coming in, her head snapped upright. She pulled her pet behind her and went to deflect it. Ren reacted first. He batted it away like nothing causing her to lower back into her seat.

"I still got hurt." She commented over the unfinished mention of her strength. A subtle self loathing lingered in the tone. The words sounded like her father's and repeated enough that she believed it. "It shouldn't have happened."

Mahal took another breath. She caught the unsettling grin upon what could've been a handsome face, but she didn't react. "Truthfully? I'm not sure. What I thought never mattered before." She felt the healer pull her arm back. By now, she had run out of patience and jerked it away. Mahal rose back onto her feet and ignored any unhealed damage. "We need to focus on the fight first than the rest can be figured out afterwards."

There was no sympathy in his tone as he began to speak, simply a cold matter-of-factness to his words. "If you don't put worms in line, then you'll be left crawling around in the mud like the rest of them. You should know this, since you're from the colonies." he shook his head with a light chuckle. This girl wasn't the others. The pink one knew her role, and she'd swum away to avoid the danger, perhaps to rally the others or save her own skin. Either way, he respected her contribution. This one however, had come late but done much more. He wondered - perhaps - if there had been animosity that'd caused her to act, or whether she was simply crazy. His eyes met hers, searching for any sort of clue or indication, but all he saw was the blank, detached stare that he'd instilled in many. Was she...? Surely not. He looked back at the Blue Adam and continued speaking.

"You're a daughter of our illustrious nation. Act like it, as you have now, and make your voice matter, or sit in the sand like the rest of them." he spat out with a degree of disappointment as he continued his onslaught onto the enemy ship. The average person repulsed him, but the confusion of himself towards this girl who didn't even know what she was, or what she wanted made his skin crawl. It made him angry, even if he wouldn't admit it or show it. He wanted to see who was hiding behind that facade.

Mahal stood her ground when they made eye contact. It was hard not to react and only the numbness she built up around her kept her temper cool. She recalled Lunara hated when she distanced herself. Her eyes reflected something like a cold, dead thing staring back. His chuckle mocked her causing her fingers to curl into fists. Life sparked in the indifferent expression when her lips pressed together.

"I'm not a coward. I'm not going to sit on the sand and be... useless." She growled, forgetting who she was talking to.

For a moment after her words, there was silence aside from the battlefield. It hung over them for what felt like forever, even if it was only a minute in practice before his eyes shot her way again. Ren's expression was cold and his words offered no indication toward his feelings on her outburst. Inside however, was a simple feeling of excitement. He felt as if he was holding a blank canvas of anguish, and a paintbrush to craft a fine piece of work.

"Prove it to them, then."

Mahal ground her teeth when another deafening boom echoed across the skies. Her eyes lifted and spotted the incoming volley of shots from the Blue Adam. Their brief pause had been noticed as the pirates took advantage of it. Without a word, Ren turned away and drew. Mahal rushed to the far edge of the deck when the man deflected the iron balls whistling toward them. Her eyes narrowed on the two farthest out. Using her magnetic, she gasped two of them. She whipped her arm backwards causing them to reverse back along the path they came from. One clipped the deck before sailing into the water. Another had others rush to stop it before it smashed into the mast. Mahal cursed in her native tongue. This was pointless and if this kept up, she wouldn't last long even with her temper.

It was then her eyes noticed something sticking out of the pack mounted on Ren's slave. A long bow. Mahal quickly removed it alongside a few arrows. She prayed to her ancestors that neither the slave or Ren would notice its absence.

Meanwhile, the men on the ship prepared a return wave of their own. She took a moment to glance at the bow she had 'burrowed'. The pale white limbs with simple engravings looked more decorative than functional. The origins were Nikanese making it different from the short range tribal bows she usually wielded. Mahal made a few tense pulls to analyze the strength needed quickly. Just before the men lit the fuses, she notched an arrow and waited to pull. Her mind ticked down the moments as she worked in sync with their movements. By the time they lit the fuses, she had pulled it back and whispered a spell. The tip caught fire seconds before she released it. Aiding it with her kinetic, she guided it to its target.

A single fire couldn't be seen among the darkened shapes of the retaliation sailing through the night.

When it sank into the deck, the flames erupted along the drier parts of the wood quickly. Mahal’s eyes flicked with excitement at the sight of her magic enhancing the flames. The smoke sent the pirates scrambling to put the flames out before it consumed the ship. She aimed at the opposite side when the next volley of cannons came. The iron in the canons drew her aim easily as another fire arrow thumped into the hull, flames licking up the side.

The first thing he noticed was the ship catching on fire, and he turned to see the cause of it. The second thing he saw was his bow in her hands. She’d taken something that was his, and normally, he’d deal with that instantly and severely. But there was merit to it - it had caused an advantage in the battle and he couldn’t help feeling ambivalence toward seizing the initiative. Instead of commenting on it, he chose instead to direct his frustration toward the Blue Adam. She would return it, after all.
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Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by Th3King0fChaos
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Th3King0fChaos The Weird

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The 6 Pillars to Tomorrow




After a day of combat, a full day of nonstop violence, Desmond had shown to all in heaven he was the strongest. He had fought multiple great fightrained hard,he had done everything he could, and now, here he was, at the top of the mountain. After a full day, he had finally reached the point where the real fight began.

254 fights have happened, by the end of the day, that number will be 260, and Desmond will have proved his existence.

And find his friend.












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Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by Jumbus
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Jumbus

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A Foreword: This chapter contains a particularly bleak subject matter and brings a dark aspect of this world, slavery, into the forefront. There is a summary at the bottom of the post if you wish to skip this and get a quick rundown of the events without detail. Please note that reading the summary will spoil the events, so read at your own caution if you do wish to read the full post later.


'The bird who flew so high and carefree took his freedoms for granted and never worried for what was below him. He had been turned into a worm, the lowest of earthly beings, to pay penance for disrespecting the ground others tread.'

Excerpt from Virangish folktale 'The Bird Who Fell'


















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