Fenna's talk with James had gone well, for the most part. He knew of a place where she could learn healing, which was good. He wasn't all that pleased with what happened down at the spa, and she understood that. She repeated the story when he asked her to do so, adding in the defence that she didn't try to touch it, her intention had been to just feel it from a somewhat safe distance, and she hadn't anticipated it would have arched like that. In the end there wasn't more to say about it, although she did promise James to be more careful with strange phenomena like that, and she showed him her spear that ever since the encounter had a faint glow to it. In daylight it was barely visible.
As they couldn't find out what it had been between the two of them, both went their ways: James to get supplies and Fenna to start her day.

First, Fenna went back to her soldiers to continue their training. For the lunch break she went to the Golden Tree Park with Sil and watched the druids work while the falcon could spread her wings. Sil stayed closer now, even since Fenna had gone down in the spa, and wouldn't let her go near that building again. When she went back to the soldiers she noticed those hooded figures were watching her. They kept their distance, but Fenna had spotted them a few times now. Let them look, she thought to herself. I'm not doing anything wrong. They were connected to that underground place, that was all she knew. And that she wasn't allowed down there, but they had let her leave and none of them had approached her since then. She couldn't shake the feeling they were following her around now. Observing her, maybe? To make sure she wouldn't go down there again?

The afternoon was spent with her soldiers again, they marched through the city, ran laps and did fighting exercises. Rest was equally important, so when the light faded she sent them all home. After dinner, she went to the place James knew to learn a bit more about healing.

He looked at the man in front of him.

There was a presence about him, like a solid wall you had no choice but to acknowledge as it felt more solid, more real than you did. He had noticed it since the first time he had met him and it was one of the reasons he accepted him readily when he expressed his desire to join, in retrospective he had been extremely lucky that such a person was open to being recruited into some unknown party with badly kept secrets.

And now that same man was sitting in front of him looking at him with concern in his posture.

His thoughts were scrambled, not as much by both sides of himself creating conflicting thoughts but rather by the revelation- and it was a revelation, ever since he had appeared in this weird world there had been coincidences stacking into coincidences that led him down certain paths, and as subtle as some of them had been when influencing him there was something 'bitch slapping' about the man in front of him appearing when he was in his knees begging for salvation. He... he had never been the most devout follower truth be told, he attended mass sometimes and did the things he was supposed to do with his family but in comparison to some of his relatives (especially the older ones), his faith was a spark to their raging inferno.

But for the second time in his life he had spectated a miracle.

He was going to tell him, wasn't he? Yeah, since the moment he was found in the alley there was little in the way of resistance or reluctance to share his problem.

Zell's situation... wasn't something he could handle alone anymore, if the second ritual failed then he would be truly out of options and his friend would be corrupted, lost in the same way he had been when his life had been cut short. A shadow of his former self, mighty but so warped that only traces of the original remained.

He didn't want that.

Briefly, the thought of sharing his own doubts crossed his mind, Zigmund was James and James was Zigmund, that was undeniable, but he wasn't either of them, not entirely. He kept a good sense of morality but the most effective solutions kept flashing throughout his mind, lacking the instinctive aversion James' once possessed, he had a new ruthlessness edge that was more calculating than malicious as used to be the case for Zigmund. He loved and hated. He wished for them to experience hardship and live long and joyful lives. He felt nostalgia and a yearning for home. He was figuring things out, moving with the flow like a leaf on the stream, but quick-witted to adjust his trajectory to achieve results.

He was he.

And that wasn't a burden he was willing to place on anyone's back.

“What’s on your mind Captain? You can talk to me.”

He cracked immediately and told everything.

---

He was wandering through some park he didn't recognize.

It had taken a long effort to assure Kass that he was fine going on his own but the Paladin's concern was clearly on the biggest threat that the Black Sword represented. He had some idea about what he was planning to do, it was funny how he was planning to reinforce the stereotype that melee classes solved everything by hitting it but maybe that was the solution he had been searching for.

Quietly he sat on one of the benches of the park, it was getting late and he could see himself eating dinner at the Drum if he headed in that direction.

He didn't.

Instead, he stared at the trees in stillness, if his memory wasn't wrong Fenna should be in the hospital getting tips from the doctors and nurses who managed the place. Despite not being a church of Samed the people attending it were diligent and experienced, which made sense considering the number of adventurers that passed through Valheim.

He wondered what the rest of his party doing.

She was tired. It had been a long day at the Military Centre. But she was not so tired that she couldn't detect the nefarious energy in the Brass Monkey. Lecherous eyes, weird smells to the smoke, aggressive voices in the ambience - Have I come to the right place? Is this really it?

It was the place. In a recpetion area adjacent to the tavern taproom, MacKensie found a wiry old man who looked her up and down with dispassion as he placed his hands on the desk. MacKensie noticed the Source Crystal on the back of his left hand.

"What?"

"Umm..." Clearly not the polite type. "I'm here to use the training grounds."

"Class and Tier?"

"Ranger. Silv- no, Gold."

A single eye of the old man narrowed with suspicion, but his expression told her that he quickly decided he didn't care if she was lying. He waved his hand to follow and made for another door at the back of the reception room. MacKensie tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and tentatively followed. They eventually ended up in a long hall that was much like a garden room extension of a house. Through the long line of large windows, MacKensie could see the training grounds, the targets, the combat dummies, the obstacle courses and much more. Within the hall, there were many machines and computers sporting that distinct Mytherian look: Stone blocks with magical screens overlaying them, gold plating and piping covering what must have been the wiring. Even after being in Valhiem for this long, the french heiress was still in awe of it all.

"We'd ordinarily charge," the old man said. "But the bosses are gone, the city's a hair's breadth from destruction and business has been shit this last week. And most pertinently..." he looked at her grimly. "...I'm bored." MacKensie smiled nervously. "So you're in luck." She nodded eagerly. He explained that he was about to set all electrical, mechanical and magical settings to Gold Class but warned her, "It won't be easy, if you're lying about being Gold Tier. This place can and will try to hurt you. Kill you, if it can. Are you sure you want Gold?"

"Yes please," MacKensie answered. Memories of Second Chance's last mission flashed through her mind - the Greater Wraith and the Listener. Zigmund the metal ninja. Second Chance may be Silver Tier officially, but they were clearly more powerful than their rank suggested. "I think I'm up to the challenge."

"Suit yourself. Should make a good show, at least."

He turned to a stone computer and began inputting commands with his fingers on the strange screen that hovered a few millimetres above the surface. When he was done, before he had a chance to speak, MacKensie went first. "I am MacKensie. MacKensie Trydant." She offered her hand. He looked at it for a second, then decided on giving her a weak handshake.

"Septimus the Soundless."

MacKensie gave a small smile of appreciation. She was glad to know who she was dealing with, good etiquette ingrained in her upbringing. With a gesture, he showed her the door she was to go through and she obliged, stepping out into the crisp evening air of the yard. There were a few branching paths from here, but the one that drew her attention was the most difficult-looking. Her sharp eyes looked down what was an obstacle course of sorts, with balance beams along the course, hampered by swinging weights that would knock her off if she wasn't careful. She also noted the pillars with bolt-firing mechanisms and the targets - both moving and stationary - dotted along the way.

This was exactly what she needed. Those regular archery ranges at the Military Centre were nothing compared to this.

"When you're ready, MacKensie Trydant." Septimus' words came from speakers in surround sound. She looked back at him, seeing him at the computer, watching her through the window. She nodded, then looked back at her chosen path with determination.

Calm. Focus. Don't forget to breathe.

Three weeks ago...

Deep within the wilderness, a loud, almost wet thud rang through the trees. A lone stone coffin lay upright and ajar, its occupant stumbling out to her knees, hacking and coughing.

"Where... where am I?" Alison thought as she slowly picked herself off the ground. The world spun slightly, and she felt aches throughout her body. She needed to sit down. Thinking for a moment, she struggled to recall the past 24 hours.

"I was... leaving the Pentagon after watching the op... that's right!" She stood up suddenly as the memories came back slowly. "That's right, the op! So wait, why am I in a forest? Okay, if the op was a success, I would have celebrated with the team and probably blacked out." She paused momentarily, patting herself down and looking about her surroundings. "But this isn't the Mall, and I woke up sober. I feel like I got into a fight... Which means the op was a failure, and I probably went down to Harry's. That bitch from Homeland Security must have set me off. But again... I woke up sober. Something is not right. Something is..." Memories of her drive, the impact, the pain, the pavement, suddenly began to form in her mind.

"... wrong."

---

Three weeks later...

The guild's air was thick with alcohol and tension. The siege has put everyone on edge, even the criminal underground. After the recent jubilations and defiant celebrations, the crews of the guild and its patrons started to come back to reality. Alison nursed her ale slowly, sick of its flavor. Since arriving in this strange land, she had begun to miss many of the modern trappings of her previous life. All the alcohol here was watered down to hell, showers were a joke, and cigarettes a mere fantasy. Not even in the far-flung mountains of Afghanistan or the humid hells of Columbia did she feel such nostalgia for the modern amenities. Maybe it's because of why she was here. At least in those remote lands, there was still the chance of coming home.

"Heyo boss, what gotcha lookin' all down like?" Pete said, taking a seat across from her. "Haven't seen ya this down since the Library job. What, the siege gettin' to ya that bad?"

"Nah, just... thinking about home. Nothing fun worth sharing." Alison responded before taking a long pull. She grimaced at the mug for the eighth time that day as Pete chuckled. "Nothing I can change. At least not yet... You have something to report?"

"Yeah, there might be something comin up for us soon. Real easy like, nothin like that previous shiat. No soul sukin tomes to steal all that. Word is there's gonna be some big movements before that barrier goin down. But look, that's stuff for the Guildmaster to go over there. Not my place and all that." He said with a gap-tooth grin. Since Alison met him, Pete always liked to play these sorts of games. He even lost a few of those teeth from her because of that, but he's since learned how far to tease her with information. He always liked to lord information over her before he was inevitably forced to cough it up.

Alison leaned back and yawned but noticed Pete still grinning at her. "What, you got something else to tell me? Spill it, stop showing me that poor dental work."

"Well, I got even better news that might perk ya right up. Remember when we first met? Before you started dressing like a proper cut-throat and was wearing thems weird clothes and whatnot?" At this, Alison did perk up, staring more intently at Pete.

"I do. Why?" she said, the casual tone gone from her voice.

"Well, as it turns out, that party ovf adventures, "Second Chance"? Well, I thinks they might be a lot likes you. Here tell they fell from the sky in stone coffins out in the village of Hommas. Bouts around a few days before you stumbled in town. They all talks like they not from around here and certainly act the part they do. They got some strange abilities, nothin nobody's eva seen. Kinda like the cloak of yours ya never lose. So that got my dumb ehd think right? Who do I know that's a lots like em?" He pointed at Alison. "Seems like I found you a piece to that big ole puzzle of yours."

Alison rested her head in one hand, thinking. This was big news. Pete put on an act, as Alison had come to learn. The dumb commoner, an unassuming goon to ruffle people up in an alley for pocket change. But she'd see a deliberate, sharp wit under that mask when they started working together. One that didn't miss a single detail and kept an ironclad memory...

And someone loyal.

"So those guys that were made Captains? Like the one that came in here and celebrated not too long ago? They're the ones?" Alison said, head still resting in her hand.

"The very same! Small world we all livin in, eh? But listen, that's just what I'm figuring. I'm pretty damn sure of it, but you'll get a chance to ask em yourself. One em, an archer lady, will be using the grounds this evenin back behind the building. Ask er yourself boss and see if it's true." He said, taking a sip from his ale. Alison leaned back and kicked her feet up on the table, staring at the ceiling.

Finally, meeting someone who might answer her about what was happening would be a relief. Alison was someone who needed a purpose, a core goal, an objective to carry her through the day-to-day. It's what kept her grounded and sane in her previous job. Protect your country, protect your team, and take down the threats. Ever since the day she first woke up in this world, she had felt almost like she had been on autopilot. She could apply her tools, knowledge, and trade and keep herself above water, but it felt like it served no great purpose, nothing bigger than herself.

The only thing that kept her going was, oddly, spite. She wanted, no, demanded to know why she had been brought here. Why had her death forced her into this magical, medieval land where reality itself can be ripped to shreds at a moment's notice? If what Pete was saying was right, and if there was not only one but a whole group of people in the same boat as her, then they may know more about what's going on, or at least could put their heads together. With a long sigh, she returned to her drink. At the very least, getting into the good graces of such a rising group of stars would probably pay big dividends.

---

Later that evening...

Alison and Pete stared at the entrance to the guild. This time, she nursed a cup of mud-like coffee. A little reward for a job well done in the week prior. She watched as a young woman entered with flowing blond hair, blue eyes, and a crossbow on her hip.

"That's the one boss. Awfully pretty, ain't she? Better sight than your depressing self." Pete whispered with a wry grin. Alison gave a small nod, not even rising to the jab, as her gaze was fixed on the individual. The woman approached that grumpy old fart Septimus. He acted his usual self and led her back to the training field.

Once they left for the back, she got up from her seat and followed them out to the back. She quietly took a spot against the wall and as she did so, she caught the archer's name. "MacKensie Trydant... That's an odd name. That accent is French, but that name certainly isn't." Alison thought to herself as she watched the training proceed.

After it was concluded, Alison gave a small clap, drawing attention to herself finally. "Well, that was certainly a show there! The rumors weren't kidding about the Second Chance folk. But honestly..." she shrugged. "I'm not here to see the fancy shooting skills. MacKensie, right? You're not from around here, are you? Or I guess I should say, from this world." Alison said, cutting straight to the point.

It was finally time she got some answers.

---

@Zool

Michael Fern looked upon the operations of Golden Tree Park with satisfaction. The Druids and lumberjacks were working in sync and harmony to help the city. He couldn't help thinking of a certain Druid, Adam Phillips. The oddly dressed man was a great caster and helped break down the invisible barrier between some of the more “holier-than-thou” magic users and those without a crystal through his honest work ethic. He even suggested a few improvements to the process, though Michael didn't know who this “Henry Ford” was that Adam said deserved the real credit. The administrator hoped that-

“Oh, speak of the devil,” he thought as the man himself appeared. Sure, he looked worn out, but he wasn't severely injured like before, at least. And given how serious he was, that only meant one thing.

“It succeeded?” Michael asked.

Adam gave a smile and thumbs up, then asked “where can I go cast with the rest of my magic?”

-----

A few hours later…

After using what remained of his energy to cast, Adam wanted nothing more than to eat an early dinner at the Drum and sleep. The lumbermen were good people, they understood the context. The Druid almost made his way out of the park when he saw his team leader looking at the trees, seeming almost contemplative. What a nice surprise!

Sitting next to him, Adam greeted him with “hi James, how are you?”

After listening to his response, the two talked for a while, the conversation turning at some point to the red-eyed man's activities for the past few days. On this subject, he was enthusiastic and happy despite his tiredness, proud of his accomplishments. 

“...so after mastering that plant, I went here. Oh, I forgot to mention! My friend, the one I sent the letter to, recommended the book where I learned about it. Glee is great, I'm glad I was able to mail him. I even-”

Suddenly, the look on Adam's face did a 180, turning from a pleasant demeanor to abject horror.

”Oh, no.”

"So, in my father's day it was just, 'The Drum.' Back then, the place was more akin to The Brass Monkey a real rowdy lot." Zell sat thoroughly entertained as he ate his dinner at the bar in Second Chance's home away from home. "Then, one day - back when the Cherryball fan rivalry was at it's height - a brawl broke out, I mean crazy-like. As the Quinity as my witness, I swear I ain't never saw nothing like it. Musta been half a hundred men beating the ever-loving snot out of eachother. Fists, feet, furniture, even weapons and magic got used. Mass arrests, casualties - a bloke even died. The death was an accident of course. Nobody's ever trying to commit murder over the sport of Cherryball, but passion got the better of everyone that day."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me, bruv," Zell said with a full mouth. He swallowed his mouth-full of food with one noticeably painful gulp, then continued. "Back where I'm from, it's the same with Football. It's practically a religion and I ain't ashamed to admit it. I bleed Chelsea FC."

Frederick tilted his head in understanding. "Then we understand eachother. I bleed Eastenders Cherryball Warriors." They both grinned. "But that day, 'The Drum' was rightly named 'The Broken Dum,' for all the damage the building came out with. Had that name for about a year or two. Took a while to get eveything all fixed up while, at the same time, keeping the business afloat. Cost my father his hair in stress. I took over and started banning all the Cherryball goons. Banned the wearing of colours... everything. Eventually, the mobs took their business elsewhere and the clientele began to change into what you see today. Now it's 'The Mended Drum.'"

"Ha! That's a fucking great story, boss." Zell looked around. "You've done a right good job with the place. I'm into this kinda vibe, meself. I mean; fuck, I'll roll around in the mud when situation calls for it, sure. But in my old line of work, happy drunks buy a lot more drugs than angry drunks. And I'm more of a lover than a fighter, personally."

Frederick raised his eyebrows and bounced back, "That Source Crystal says otherwise!"

"Ha! Got me there, I suppose." Zell conceded. He went back to his food as Frederick shifted over to serve another customer. Zell smiled to himself as he ate, putting forth the case in his mind that he really wasn't the fighting type, back home. He was a fairly disciplined athlete. He didn't eat crap, he didn't do drugs. He was no coward, but he did have 'Muscle' he could call upon when shit hit the fan. His only weakness was girls and beer, but he never let those things misalign his focus when it came to football or his miniture drug empire. And when he recently got his act together and started studying properly, he didn't even let football or his operation get in the way of that. Zell Brooks was a goofball, no doubt about it, but when he set his mind to something, there was no stopping him.

A much simpler time, Zell remembered with melancholy. Fuck, I miss London.

It seemed like forever ago, he'd been through so much since. And right now, things were anything but simple. He wanted to apologise to James, for wasting his time with that ritual - to tell his best friend that if they could just wait until after the big battle, he would be ready-like-Eddy to give up The Black Sword. He wanted so badly to confront MacKensie about what happened on their non-date - how it all ended, the morning after - but he knew she would hear no part of it.

And you want to leave with The Ambassador. Leave your friends. Seek greener pastures. Because you know that is the best course of action.

Zell shook those thoughts away, not even sure if those thoughts were his own or Baphomet's. It made sense. He had a way out of this desperate situation. And he had made a friend in Ambassador Malcom Crane who might give him a leg-up onto the political ladder. The temptation was grating in the back of his mind.

One thing about Baphomet - love him or hate him - was that: He was right more often than not.

Fuck.

Almost there.

Sprint.

She was confident in her speed and it took her past the next set of bolt-firing traps cleanly. Drawing her main one-handed crossbow from the clip at the small of her back, one shot fired. Bullseye. A dive, a commando roll and back into sprint. Two shots fired. Bullseye.

Don't think... feel.

Up the slope of the balance beam she went. The traps did not allow her to slow down. The beam took her high up. She would not allow herself to waver. The third and fourth target forced her left hand to draw the crossbow on her right hip, the weaker weapon joining her primary weapon in dual wield action. Double bullseye.

Input from the senses are your commands. Let your instincts move your body.

Triple pirouette - an old ballet motion. As simple in practice as it was on the precarious balance beam. How far her balance and agility had come. She danced through the first half of the swinging weights like a blue breeze, her azure cape whirling with her. The second half, the traps fired off again. She fell forward off the beam. Not by accident. Her magical grapplehook fired, the Ranger defying gravity, swinging under and around, up and back onto the beam, clearing the second half of the swinging weights.

Reloading dual crossbows was undoubtedly the hard part. Especially whilst running along the beam. She cheated.

Blue flames danced on her hands and up her arms as she activated her Deadly Flurry. Using her practiced Long Jump technique, she lept forward off the end of the beam, into the air, tossed a handful of bolts in front of her as she sailed, and in a blur of godspeed handmovements; one, two, three, four, five, six bolts hit the bullseyes of six moving targets. The traps firing back stood no chance.

She landed and launched back into a sprint to the finish line, concluding the course. Her breathing was heavy as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Septimus deactivated the training ground, allowing her to walk back to the beginning and start another training course. She headed inside, about to ask if, in Septimus' opinion, she might be able to handle a Platinum difficulty, but the applause of another figure her sharp eyes hadn't even noticed was what drew her attention.

"Well, that was certainly a show there! The rumors weren't kidding about the Second Chance folk." Whilst taken aback by the sudden appearance of the woman, MacKensie still managed to put on an air of humility and smile at the praise. "But honestly..." the older woman shrugged. "I'm not here to see the fancy shooting skills. MacKensie, right?"

"Yes. How do you do?"

"You're not from around here, are you? Or I guess I should say, from this world."

And that's when it hit her. That accent. Not nearly as thick as Clive Michel. Not quite as noticeable as even Adam Philips. But most assuredly, undeniably American. It left her speechless for a moment.

There is another. But...?

How? Who knows. Who cared. A new, more heartfelt smile spread across her face and she opened her mouth to speak, not quite sure what to say. "I..." she blinked thrice as she struggled for words. "Yes... I mean... no - No, I am not." A soft snort of a one-note laugh left her as she took in the full visage of the woman, her casual demeanour and cool expression. "Nor are you!" It came out louder than she intended, her excitement clear as she took a step closer to the woman. "How...? When...?" So many questions, all falling out at once. "Are there more of you?"

Septimus the Soundless, nothing if not consistent, was unimpressed, uncaring and abrupt as he shut down the computer and walked off. "I'll leave you two to your little reunion," he said dryly.

MacKensie spared him a brief glance before turning excitedly back to the mysterious woman who seemed to know a lot more about MacKensie than MacKensie did her. Subconciously, she noted the roguish clothing that fit right into the backdrop of The Brass Monkey, but she knew not to judge a book by it's cover. Barracker Kassel was proof enough of that. "How have you been, umm?" She waited for a name before saying, "You simply must meet the rest of us."

Any inquiry as to Second Chance getting to the bottom of the great mystery; Why they were here - MacKensie would admit that they were not doing too well on that front, but they did have some strong leads, aswell as a Source Comm message that the woman would be better off reading herself. However, she would, if pressed further, endevour to explain all that she could.

What motivates someone to keep toiling away in this mortal realm is an odd thing. Some just run on autopilot, content to stay in whatever lane life has for them. Others are driven, choosing their lanes, constantly changing. So on and so forth. What was Alison's greatest challenge since awakening in her second lease on life was this core issue. She used to be driven and had a purpose, but all that was gone now, left behind in a wrecked SUV on I-95. The country she struggled so hard for was now but a distant memory. Thus, Alison had fallen into the former. She never felt all there; she still felt like she was in a dream. The horrors seen infiltrating "The Library," the evil armies undead marching across the land. These past few weeks, Alison was... not there.

Thus, for the first time, to those who may have paid close attention, there was finally a small light behind those blue eyes. It felt as though the whole of that past, every experience since she stumbled out of that coffin in the woods, rushed into her at once. The sensations, the memories, the pain—it all came back to her from the simple words spoken by the young woman before her.

A genuine smile crossed Alison's face for the first time in a long, long time. Her features softened. "From what I can gather, we all arrived around the same time. Coffin, right? I was dropped in the middle of the wilderness and had to find my own way for a while. It's a real relief to meet someone like me. Well, sorta, " Alison said with a soft laugh.

Based on her voice and the way she spoke, MacKensie was French. All the more strange with her accent. It was certainly of a more southern dialect. She seems to speak the normally silent vowels, the inflection on certain words. It was more difficult, as they were both speaking the common tongue, but it was a solid guess to Alison's trained ear. "I take it from somewhere in Southern France? Probably more towards the Alpine border. Can't place the specific, but I've worked in the Southern Med enough back in our world to have an ear for it. Sorry, I have a knack for this sort of thing. It comes with my trade. But to answer your question, as far as I know, I couldn't tell you. Thanks to my friend Pete here, I only learned of what you all are recently." Alison said, gesturing to her companion, who had politely stood back.

Pete gave his trademark toothy grin and a nod. "Pleasure to meet ya girl, ole boss here was all mopy like thinkin she was the only one. Glad to see my info paid of nice like. Speakin of boss, ya owe me now!" he said clapping Alison on the back. She shook him off and gave a non commital wave, but Alison was already thinking of a way to pay him back.

Septimus gave his trademark grunt of disinterest and shut down the system. "I'll leave you two to your little reunion," he said dryly as he started to walk off. Alison called after him.

"Thanks again, old man. Tell that queen of yours that those coffee grounds were worth it. Oh, and to cut your pay in half, terrible customer service." she said as he left. He gave a dismissive grunt and waved his hand, mumbling curses under his breath. "He's a difficult asshole but reliable. His wife is a real sweetheart, though, with all smiles and apple pies. With the siege on, I doubt we'll see more of them for a while."

MacKensie spared him a brief glance before turning excitedly back to Alison. "How have you been, umm?" the question hung in the air.

"Alison, Alison Walker," she said, extending a hand. Old habits died hard. A less than zero chance of telling her real name would have any consequence here, but it was the name she kept on giving. "And frankly, terrible. The kind of crap I've had to put up with getting here..." Alision trailed off with a shared shiver with Pete.

As far as Alison could tell, MacKensie seemed excited to meet someone like her. Now that she had a closer look, she could tell she was definitely on the younger side. A bit of sadness crept in from that, someone still with so much ahead of them ending up here. If it was anything like what had happened to her, it meant that potential was taken from their world.

"You simply must meet the rest of us." MacKensie said with an eager tone.

"I'm hoping you, me, and the rest of you can figure out why we're here, what we're doing, and how the hell any of this makes sense. It's been a while since I've been to church or brushed up on my theology, but I don't remember anywhere in the bible or otherwise saying the afterlife was anything like this. Let's put our heads together and figure this out. Or, at the very least, survive this siege. Hell of a distraction to put up with while trying to solve this problem." Alison agreed, "Lead the way."

@Zool

Neebs was sorting the bookcases out, from polishing to sorting the books out in alphabetical order. His job was fairly high ranked, he did a bit of everything but he enjoyed working in the libraries. While on the task, his attention was drawn onto the doors flinging open, the man, no, a vampire, seemed to be in distress. He had noticed that the vampire appeared to be wearing a Paladins tower shield. He asked in a friendly manner how he could be of assistance.

“I am looking for the history section, more in-depth of curses and contracts from princes of the oblivion plane,” the man said before introducing himself as Barracker Kassel of Second Chance.

“Well adventurer, right this way.” Barracker followed the mage up a set of stairs and round a corner. “High level curses ay?” He said in passing. But Barracker did not elaborate, so Neebs changed the subject. “Second Chance, that name has been popping up a lot around here lately. Mr Sirius has been working with the tech division, I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting him.”

Barracker responded politely but his tension was noticeable, clearly not receptive for any small talk right now.

“Well friend, I will leave you to it, any questions or help required. Just give us a holler.”

“You have my thanks,” the Paladin said absently, already fingering through the literature.

During the evening, Fenna went to hospital where she aided the healers with the little knowledge she had. They had been kind enough to teach her the basics and welcomed the help. Even though the fighting hadn't started, the preparations hadn't gone without injuries. Construction work accidents, accidental injuries during training, people on edge fighting each other in the streets. Most injuries were minor, thankfully, although one fallen log had knocked a man out and he still hadn't regained consciousness. Fenna helped out where she could, if there weren't any bandages to wrap or salves to apply, she went around with food and drink.

Two hooded persons watched her from a corner. Fenna had spotted them, but ignored them for now. It was becoming clear they were watching her, she had spotted them too often for it be a coincidence. Wasn't there once on TV a simple tailor on a space station once who said "I believe in coincidences, coincidences happen every day, but I don't trust coincidences." While the cloaked people were watching her, she watched them. If they would make a move, she would react. For now they kept their distance, but the temptation to just walk up to them and ask them what the hell they were doing was real.

She would be patient, for now, and stay in crowded places.

Zell was sat on the grass against a tree, on the slopes at the foot of Citadel Mountain. He was far enough from the road and onto the green that no one would spot him, but his own view was within range of Little Bridge. For him, the time couldn't go fast enough. Ironically, it was the total opposite; time was moving like molasses. Midnight was still some time away and he had nothing to do. There was no sense in going up the mountain early. It would be extremely difficult to be inconspicious just loitering around the upper district. Someone would be bound to notice his presence and more likely to either ask questions or remember him tomorrow, when news of the Ambassador's disappearance was out and police started an investigation. He didn't want to hang around at The Mended Drum either. He'd rather not be seen at all, by his friends, than seen leaving the inn when midnight neared. It was best that none of them knew about this little tangeant into illicit escapades.

In this gap in his schedule - this moment of solitude - Zell expected to hear from Baphomet. It was clear that the Devil was no longer confined to the dream world, as he was before. Zell could sense him, like a weight on his mind, or when you can feel someone watching you, or the congestion of the air in a room full of gangsters. Actually - all of the above. But the Prince of the Oblivion Plane didn't say a word, not once. Strange.

He pondered the battle ahead. So far, he'd shown nothing but his usual brand of unassailable confidence. Unbreakable Zell Brooks.

'Mentality Monsters' as he and his football team used to call themselves. Macho dumbasses was what they were, in truth.

'Screw the odds, Second Chance had dealt with everything else Mytheria had to throw at them.' In truth: Mytheria had killed two of them, disappeared another two and nearly broke the spirit of their youngest, Adam.

'We are the Lions, hear us roar?' A third of their one hundred were mere cubs. A few were fucking kittens.

Zell rubbed his cheek as he absent-mindedly watched a troop of guards cross the little bridge in the distance. "Valhiem's circling the drain," he muttered to himself. "They'd have to be perfect. Every external factor in their favour. Every star to align. And even then, victory would be a miracle."

The truth hurt. What's worse was that he couldn't even tell his friends. Not for fear of looking like a coward, although that certainly played a small part in the equation. He couldn't tell them because Second Chance had been the source of a spark of morale in the city, these past few days. What if the truth was the straw that broke the camel's back - what if his words stole their shine and stopped them from shining on Valhiem? "Certain death for everyone. From a 1% chance to win, to zero."

A General who knows when and when not to fight, never loses. Valhiem was a terrible choice to make a stand. The walls didn't even have ballista towers or built-in mage towers reinforced with ritual metamagic; Bolster, Extend, Quicken, Heighten... they weren't even prepared in spite of being virtually on the front lines of the war. The people in charge of this place were fucking idiots. They should have evacuated Valhiem well before now. Retreated west. Especially when the fortress in the north started drawing all the strength from the region. "Frogs in slowly boiling water, content with the warmth," Zell spat bitterly. "Christ, what lunacy."

Zell shook his head. The lights were red when he got hit by that bus, at the end of his last life. (A fact that he consistently reminded himself of, everyday he'd been in Mytheria.) It wasn't a mistake to cross that street. Just an accident caused by a shitty driver. This time; the lights are green. Bright fucking green. Inescapable emerald. Super celadon. Loud lime.

And there was enough time to make a decision. In fact, there was an Ambassador literally showing him how to not be a lemming. No excuses.

This time, it would be all on him, if he chose to step onto the road.

"I'm hoping you, me, and the rest of you can figure out why we're here, what we're doing, and how the hell any of this makes sense. It's been a while since I've been to church or brushed up on my theology, but I don't remember anywhere in the bible or otherwise saying the afterlife was anything like this." MacKensie laughed as she agreed. Alison had a commanding presence to her - very naturally authoritative - but when mixed with her quips, there was something about it that tickled MacKensie fiercely. "Let's put our heads together and figure this out. Or, at the very least, survive this siege. Hell of a distraction to put up with while trying to solve this problem." The younger woman nodded and turned about as Alison told her to, "Lead the way."

The walk from the Brass Monkey, across the city, to The Mended Drum gave Alison and MacKensie time to talk and get better acquainted. MacKensie explained how most of the party landed in the village of Hommas and gave an account of a few notable moments that had led to this point, keeping things mostly on the positive side, but she would be remiss if she did not mention the tragic loss Arthur, who died a hero when he saved them all from Aurok the Maneater's dying attack. Clive being killed and recently resurrected also required an explanation, though, had she known how treasonous resurrection actually was, she may have left that detail out. Nevertheless, Alison was somewhat informed of Second Chance's trials and tribulations so far. MacKensie, in turn, listened attentively to whatever Alison was willing to share with her, asking questions where appropriate and having a joke here and there. Alison was an interesting person and MacKensie was taken by her cool charisma. She had already impressed MacKensie from the start, when she so closely pinpointed her city of birth, Lyon, just by hearing her talk for a minute. This suggested that the woman was more than well-travelled and would undoubtedly have some stories to tell. MacKensie was intrigued, to say the least.

"James and Zell are quite the duo and so much fun to be around. Barracker and Adam are darlings. Clive is a character and Fenna is an incredible woman.

MacKensie was glad to have another woman in the group, already decided in her imagination that Alison should and would stay with them, in their group, from now on. She did her best to make a good and welcoming first impression, as was her sociable nature, but also with the notion in mind that she was the sole representative of Second Chance right now...

...And the sole representative she would stay, for this evening. No one was at The Mended Drum when they arrived.

"Zell just left about a half hour ago," Frederick told them. "The others, I've not seen all day."

"Oh," was MacKensie's response, disappointment in her voice. She looked apologetically at Alison, then more positively introduced her to Frederick. "She is from our world," she told the innkeeper. Then to Alison; "Fred has been a perfect host and gentleman to us, since our arrival in Valhiem. He and his staff, have been nothing short of excellent."

Awkwardly, there was nothing else to do but reschedule Alison's meeting with the rest of Second Chance for tomorrow. "I do apologise for wasting your time. I will tell the others about you and - if you are available - perhaps we could all meet here for lunch, tomorrow? Or at The Brass Monkey, if you would prefer."

She would hope that Alison would choose The Drum over The Monkey. MacKensie did not like the latter establishment one bit. But she would offer the option out of courtesy. When it was settled, gave an encouraging smile and resounding nod. They said their goodbyes and before they parted ways, MacKensie gave the woman a short hug. "I am so glad we found you. You no longer have to be alone in this, Alison. We will get through this together."

Once Alison was gone, MacKensie ordered a late dinner and stayed in the taproom to eat while she waited for any of her friends to arrive, so she could give them the amazing news; There was another person from Earth, here in this city.

Listening to Adam talk was relaxing.

He was second on the list he decided. First was Mackenzie, she had been bumped to first place after Fenna was demoted to the bottom of the list, only above himself and Zell and that wasn't a good thing! Then there was Adam and following him was Kass.

What was the list?

Least troublesome party members, of course.

After Fenna decided it was a good idea to take a dunk in a wellspring -well okay, he knew she didn't do it on purpose but his near heart attack was still the same, she deserved to be on the bottom three besides him, and Zell, it was a miracle she wasn't immediately reduced to ashes and he hoped, nay, prayed she didn't do something like that ever again.

But back to the point he listened as Adam recounted his last escapades. It was nice hearing one of his friends was having a positive effect on Valheim, regardless of the dreaded cause behind it. It was also good to once more be reminded that his party had one more ace in the hole, he had read about some of the classes during his stay at the institute and from what he had read their Druid was way about weight class for what he should be capable of.

So in conclusion this was a very pleasant time he was spending with one of his friends, just one afternoon talking about their recent endeavors, no heart-to-heart talk about their ambitions, no revelations about one's psyche, and no life-threatening quest emerging.

He really needed this.

“...so after mastering that plant, I went here. Oh, I forgot to mention! My friend, the one I sent the letter to, recommended the book where I learned about it. Glee is great, I'm glad I was able to mail him. I even-”

Suddenly, the look on Adam's face did a 180, turning from a pleasant demeanor to abject horror.

”Oh, no.”

Godamit.

He watched in real-time as Adam's face fell into a mix of emotions, none of them positive and a ball formed in his stomach.

Thoughts about relaxation were discarded in favor of concern and wariness. Suddenly his senses sharpened, and vigilance raised his head while keeping Adam in sight, Valhaim was supposed to be safe but if Adam was reacting like this...

"What it is Adam?"

If Adam was reacting like this it meant that shit was bad.

Yeah, this was bad. Adam knew he messed up, and James’ asking about it made him feel worse about it. Of course the Druid knew he wouldn't lie about it, but it still felt awful knowing that he did what he did.

“So Glee, my friend I told you about, is really incredible. We actually met the day after we first arrived here, and he taught me some things about casting, as well as introducing me to the guy who taught me shapeshifting. That was all great enough on its own for me to send the letter, of course. So when I went to do so, Lucy ended up telling me more. Turns out his group is Diamond tier and part of the Council of Heroes, who basically represent adventurers within the government. True Grade - their team's name, sorry - helped destroy a large-scale Vampire and Drow colony before they could be a threat, including their leader. They also took out a tribe of evil Cave Trolls. Their chief was arming and armoring the tribe, teaching them to use technology and magic, and trying to breed more intelligent Trolls.”

Adam sighed; it was time to fess up. “All of this is to say, Glee's party is clearly extremely strong, and I thought it would be a good idea to ask him if they could come here and help with the defense of Valheim. I didn't even think about the fact that the Witch Queen would probably read the letter until now, so the enemy knows we know when they're going to attack. Or knew, I guess, since they probably have new plans now. I'm so sorry, James.”

The red-eyed man thought for a moment, then added “maybe tomorrow morning when I get my magic back, I can sneak or use my bear form to get into their camp, and kill their general or something? Even if I die, it's better than dooming this place through my stupidity.”

Maybe if he were less exhausted and guilt-ridden, Adam would have known just how absurd that idea was. As it stood now though, he just wanted to make things right.

‘A comprehensive analysis of the princes of the oblivion plane’.

‘The rise and fall of Michealangelo Young’.

‘Baphomet, the voidling prince of might’.

These three books stood out profoundly in Barrackers mind, these three were deciphered and rummaged through thrice over. Carefully dissected each page, pages flickering back and forth through. Other literature rinsed over, but eventually placed in a pile of books to be forgotten about as they would hold too much knowledge about things that were not relevant. Based on the information James had given the Paladin, the pale man had taken upon himself to help with the task of dispelling Zell’s curse. They had both been in quite a predicament, a dilemma consisting of high level stress thrown their way and Barracker suspecting that the two must have felt as if they were losing part of themselves in the process. This was worrying and he would like to be of help to James, the captain of Second Chance always being around to take on everyone’s feelings and bring balance to the group with his skilled management. But he was also in trouble, the very least he could do was help cut the list of problems down on what his party members had to struggle with. Not being from this world and pushed into a line of fighting for Mytheria, this was enough to deal with.

He slapped a hand to his head, his chin tucked in, shaking his head a little. Focus, stay focused on the goal. This can work. Everything is here in these three books.

‘A comprehensive analysis of the princes of the oblivion plane’- Book I, a collection of quotes and sources that provided a full breakdown on the motives and personalities of the six most powerful entities of the Void.

‘The rise and fall of Michelangelo Young’-Book II, a breakdown of one of the more notable cases, and ruination of the notorious nephew of the Empress at the time, during the mythic age, Ileandra Young. Someone so made of steel and divine blood was consumed by hatred. No, no. Not just hatred, something else. Paranoia, tricks, anxiety, leading into bad actions that could then bring on guilt, depression and insanity too. Some say before Baphomet got to him, he could not be beaten or out witted. He was remarkable and he was righteous.

And lastly there was, ‘Baphomet, the voidling prince of might’. Book III was about the devil himself. There were six devils in all, of different aspects of power. Baphomet was of 'Might.' This book mainly referred to the time that Baphomet managed to gain so much influence that his cult used a Wellspring to tear a rift in reality that was big enough to allow him to set foot in the mortal realm. This era of the Mythic Age was dreadful and full of suffering, but after several defeats, the first special ‘Raid Group’ of the strongest, fully ascended adventurer parties eventually managed to defeat and banish him back to the oblivion plane. Those adventuring parties formed ‘The Council of Heroes’ who became an institution within the Churches branch of Government.

He truly feared for Zell but also knew his captain needed someone to be there for him too, but did not know how to approach James’ unique problem just yet, other than give him some words of encouragement and support. Zell however needed confronting quickly and harshly, a big reality check for the man who was falling like all the others that fell before. The ritual had failed because of Zell, which meant he was already going down the dark path, step by step. James had shown remarkable resilience and Barracker judged him to be steady enough to handle his own issues with resolve for hopefully long enough to deal with Zell first, but he would not ignore his captain.

His eyes remained engulfed in the books as if they were flames of a fire flickering away. His eyes were sore from the constant squinting, his neck began to sore, his posture was all bent for way too long, The vampire had thought maybe it was in the early evening but the time had passed on and on. So much reading went on until Neebs had taken himself to Barracker and told him how long he had actually been here and had told him the time, which proved to be even later than he had thought. The Academy was already closed but Barracker had used his ‘Piety Rank’ to gain access, but now it was so late that even he had to go.

“That late? I didn’t realise.” He looked back at the book as he closed it. “It is remarkable how much I have learned. Is this your area of expertise?” The vampire had thought maybe, someone more knowledgeable on the topic of dark domain could be of help. To hear something extra that wasn't at the forefront of his mind, or didn’t have the right level of importance surrounding it, he might have missed.

“Dark domain you say? Aw shucks, my specialization is in the Water Domain. Not even close to Dark, I’m afraid. Sorry about that.”

A water mage, huh? The vampire paused a moment, stroking his chin as he considered how he'd awakened to his Domain finally, back in the fight against Zigmund. Perhaps a second try at the tutoring might be successful this time. But it was not nearly important right now, so the thought was gone as quickly as it came.

“May I take these three books, I will return them tomorrow as soon as I am done.”

“Yeah sure, why not. Bring them to the front.”

Barracker gave his thanks. Don’t worry. James, Zell, I have you covered.

Alison was a dry sponge being dipped into a pool of water. MacKenzie's story of how they arrived in this world and their journey thus far was absorbed fully and committed to memory. As the girl talked, Alison ran it based on what her sources and Pete had told her. Blanks were filled in, gaps bridged, and soon a broader picture began forming about the current situation this otherworldly party found themselves in.

"James and Zell are quite the duo and so much fun to be around. Barracker and Adam are darlings. Clive is a character and Fenna is an incredible woman." Mackenzie said smiling. Alison gave a soft smile and nodded along. This girl's praise of the group and its members almost made Alison feel sad about their current predicament. She knew so many people across the world in her previous life. She could grab a beer with a friend in Bangkok, get a friendly ride in Milan, or have a chat in a Polish bar. All of that was gone now. And her core team, Mike, John, Henry, Gary, and Hannah. People who she'd risk her life for and have. People who have saved her life. Many in her field lived life on the edge and weren't right in the head, but they were all the family she knew. All gone.

Trying to refocus away from the dark thoughts, Alison returned her attention to the present. When Mackenzie listed off the names, one stuck out. She had a hard time remembering why in the moment, but filed it away to look into it later.

"Sounds like you guys have bonded since arriving here. You made your way through it and not only stuck together but worked together. People don't often realize it but those two are very different things when it comes to a team. Happy to hear everyone seems to be eager to get along." Alison said with a smile.

They approached the inn "The Drum" and Alison faced the doors with some trepidation. Everything said it would still be up to the rest of the group to live up to the praises of Mackenzie. Yet as the doors opened, the place was mostly empty, save the innkeeper at his station. He explained the rest of the group was out in the town taking care of their chores and tasks. Alison had thought this might be the case, as the siege left few hands idle, but was still disappointed.

"Oh," was MacKenzie's response, disappointment in her own voice. She gave an apologetic look before more positively introducing her to the keeper. "She is from our world," she told the innkeeper.

Alison inwardly bristled at this, but her expression didn't waver. Information was currency, power even to someone like Alison, and that was a pretty big bag of money that Mackenzie had just handed over to some innkeeper. Sure, they had a reputation of being from an otherworld, but Alison kept her cards close to her chest as much as possible. Thus far, only Pete, Olaf, and Kerensa had been specifically told she wasn't from this world, and she'd like to try and keep it that way. Alison made a mental note to educate MacKenzie and possibly the rest of this group on the basics of OPSEC but focused on the moment at hand.

MacKenzie looked back to Alison. "Fred has been a perfect host and gentleman to us, since our arrival in Valhiem. He and his staff, have been nothing short of excellent," she said, now with a bit more apparent naivety To Alison.

Alison politely nodded to Frederick before shaking his hand. "Nice to meet someone so highly recommended by the young lady here." Frederick seemed like a normal enough man, but trust didn't come nearly as easily for Alison. Another mental note was made. There was a brief moment of awkward silence before Mackenzie turned to Alison.

"I do apologize for wasting your time. I will tell the others about you and - if you are available - perhaps we could all meet here for lunch, tomorrow? Or at The Brass Monkey, if you would prefer." MacKensie said, a little embarrassed at the situation. Alison gave a soft laugh and waved her hand.

"Don't worry about it, ain't your fault that everyone was busy this evening. I wasn't expecting the red carpet, or really, any carpeting for that matter. I think meeting everyone tomorrow for lunch is a good plan. Besides, I'd enjoy the opportunity to try some of Fred's cooking and drink, been so busy since I arrived here that I honestly haven't had a chance to enjoy some other places." Alison finished with a confident smile. They still had time, as far as Alison could tell, before things started hitting the fan, so taking advantage of this and getting everyone together to coordinate would be for the best.

With that settled, they said their goodbyes. Alison began to turn to leave but was caught a little off guard when MacKensie suddenly hugged her. "I am so glad we found you. You no longer have to be alone in this, Alison. We will get through this together." she said, before letting her go.

Alison stared for a moment, before turning away and nodding. "I'm sure we will. It was really nice meeting you MacKensie." she said as she walked away with a wave, some dust from the road clearly getting in her eyes.

---

Alison turned a street corner before maneuvering into an alleyway. As she walked, Pete fell in behind her from the shadows.

"Nevuh thoughts I'd see the day you'd get all mushy like. And heres I was wonderin if you really were a woman. Nevuh seen that mug of yours light up that- Owe!" the elbow firmly in Pete's stomach cutting him off.

"Quite joking. What do you think?" Alison said, her face suddenly hard and serious. Pete's face also quickly grew more serious.

"The girl's strong and capable, but a bit too friendly. Nots a suspicious like, more innocent kind like. That said, she's a better shot than Olaf with them crossbows. All of em from the Second Chance are like that though. Like you. Unique abilities, talent, powers, and whatnot. What tipped me off from the start. They're gonna take some molding probably. Otherwise, nobody else followed you two when you left the Brass Monkey. Ears and eyes was abouts, but nothin lookin yors way." Pete finished with a sigh. Alison nodded as well and continued walking.

"And the operation tonight. Everything set? No funny business?" Alison said, not bothering to look over her shoulder as Pete followed.

"Everythins in place boss. But we gots a bit of a complication. Our VIP has a guest rider. Guy that's gonna be guardin him for the operation been change. None other than one of em Second Chance people. Zell Brooks was his name." Pete said, walking now beside her.

A spark lit up in Alison's mind. MacKensie mentioned that name! Now that... was concerning. It quickly became obvious as the dots were connected in her mind. Zell somehow found out about the op, damn savages couldn't keep a secret between two rocks. A frustrated groan came from Alison as she picked up the pace towards The Brass Monkey.

"Fuck, god dammit Zell, after MacKensie praised you, you better not be planning what I think you are!."

---

Midnight, an unassuming spot in the woods outside of Valhiem

The tunnel was damp and suffocating. Gave Alison bad memories. How many tunnels had she been in back in her world? The ones on the border were dry and dusty. She had her team in position. Pete was hidden, punching dagger ready in the darkness of a hidden nook. Olaf was perched in a tree near the exit, heavy crossbows at the ready. They all wore muted clothes, Olaf even covering himself in leaves and branches to further blend with the tree above. He was a small, stout man, yet shockingly nimble and swift. One of Alison's makeshift squad, her attempt at rebuilding a team in this new world. They had met soon after Pete, bonding intensely over a robbery gone horribly wrong. Olaf owed Alison his life and Alison hers. His crack shot skills had kept many of the blades from ever reaching her.

A voice whispered next to her.

"What do you think Master Walker, will the young man return?" said the soft, refined voice of Kerensa Rostfallia. Alison's face remained neutral. Kerensa was a former head maid to a now-disgraced and ruined household. She had been instrumental in surviving the Library job and through facing the horrors of that place, had become one of Alison's closest comrades before Pete. Smart, well-spoken, and deadly with a curved blade. Alison grimaced under her dark, cloth facemask.

They were tasked to hold the entrance for their guild member who would be returning once the Ambassador was a safe distance away. Zell had weaseled his way into being that guide. The makeshift explosives in Alison's pouch felt uncomfortably heavy. A contingency courtesy of the guild master should their plan tip off the enemy or even worse... should they be betrayed.

"If he's smart, he strong-arms the Ambassador and gets a free ride out of the city. Could probably make a good excuse for it too if he can talk well enough..." Alison whispered back. Kerensa sat beside her, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face.

"And if he's loyal?" Kerensa asked.

"Then the Second Chance really does, well, have a chance. It's up to him now to prove himself." Alison said, her eyes continuing to scan the entrance ahead. Zell wouldn't be wrong. The city was probably not up for a stand-up siege. Once that barrier went down, it would be a desperate fight. Alison herself had climbed the ladder and earned the loyalty of the guild, just so she could get this job and betray everyone inside. She had a team to save and protect, and they all would more than happily cut their losses and move on from this war. The four of them owed nobody a suicidal final stand.

Alison pictured MacKenzie's glowing ramblings of her friends, how they were all in this together. This afternoon had changed priorities. There was a lead, a strong lead, here, in Valhiem. There were answers here, in this sieged city, that Alison would not leave behind. But more importantly, there was a young woman who was given a second chance like Alison. Who could relate to Alison in a way nobody could. Not Pete, Olaf, or Kerensa. Alison would not abandon her.

The question was now, would Zell?

@Zool @Saiyan

Fenna finished up for the day and brought the last dirty bandages to the washing room. The staff here had been so kind with sharing their knowledge, and in turn were grateful for the extra pair of hands. The hooded figures had been ushered out by one of the nurses when it had become clear they weren't patients and weren't there to work.

"Thank you for your help," the doctor said when he approached.
"Thank you for the opportunity to learn," Fenna replied, as she was busy putting her gloves back on.
"Oh, I see you have a Source Crystal. Are you an adventurer?" After the affirming nod he continued "I see. What team are you on?"
"Second Chance." That name had brought several kind of expressions to people's faces the past few days. Curiosity, hope. Seeing a face scrunch up in irritation was not what Fenna had expected to see.
"I have to ask, is everyone in your team a complete idiot?"
"Excuse me?" Fenna asked. Sure, there was Zell. And James hadn't been exactly thrilled to hear how she had handled the big bundle of mysterious energy (although she had tried to keep a distance from it, it wasn't like she had poked her finger in it), but their party was definitely more sane than idiotic. "No, not everyone..." she said
"Well, your Druid certainly is," the doctor grumbled, crossing his arms. "Some imbecile named Adam, came in here a few days ago coughing up a storm. Somehow poisoned himself. Then the next day, the moron comes in with severe burns. Doesn't show up for a bit after that, so I thought that was the end of it. Nope! The fool was here yesterday!" After thinking about it for a second, the doctor continued. "I'll spare you the details. I shouldn't care as long as he pays, but that man has to be one of the dumbest people I've ever met. No plant is worth that."
"W-what plant?" Fenna asked. What had Adam been doing?
"I would try being smarter than your Druid - not that that's tough to do." Saying this, the doctor walked away.
Oh dear, what had Adam been up to? Should she tell James about this? Did she really want to make their cleric disappointed in yet another of their team? Maybe she could talk with Adam first and then go to James?

Fenna left the hospital thinking about the conversation. Sil joined her as she walked towards the Mended Drum. Two hooded figures followed them from a safe distance, whispering to each other.

The midnight streets were empty. Quiet too, save for the explosions of the artillery fire hitting the barrier high above. Zell moved in step with the Ambassador, silent - his mind occupied with a straight-up tug of war between his selfish half and his selfless half. Not surprisingly, Mr Selfless had not exercised nearly as much as Mr Selfish, who was jacked as hell, but the skinny little twerp was making it a fight.

As they hit the crossroads of Beam Street North and Beam Street East, the Ambassador whispered for halt under the streetlight. Zell looked moodily at him, confused and rather peturbed that they would stop on the most illuminated spot in the bloody street. A moment later, a man could be seen approaching them. Zell inquired about what the hell was going on and got his answer. The Ambassador had flip-flopped last minute and re-hired his original bodyguard.

"What? Why?" Zell pressed. "I told you he was a waste of money."

"Watch your mouth, boy," the bodyguard threatened gruffly.

Zell looked at him like he was an idiot. "And how do you suppose I do that, then, eh? Take my fucking eyeballs out and turn em around? Do us a favour keep your trap shut while the grown-ups talk."

"Stop it, you two," was the harsh reprimand from the Ambassador. Then he explained to Zell. "I know you said that the West Road to Cherrad was safe, but... but I'd still rather not walk it in the dark."

Zell shook his head, annoyed and exasperated. "Whatever. S'your money."

...

The Thieves Guild was an outfit of bonafide pros, to be sure. Zell observed this as he watched them operate, slick and clean like some kind of Black Ops Unit. Second Chance's frontliner kept his mouth shut and his eyes and ears open from the moment they'd stepped into The Brass Monkey - a rare time when the idiot knew better than to be yapping like he owned the place. A very rare moment. But, after being taken to and ushered through the tunnel, the trio of the Ambassador, Zell and the bodyguard stopped at the exit and Zell needed to speak up.

"We need to get onto the West Road," Zell told Seal Team 6. "Our client is aiming for Cherrad." He was informed that they would be in the woods, at the foothills, southeast of the city walls. When Zell commented that finding his way back was going to be rough, a guildmember - one of the two women - gave him a pouch of rainbow glint stones to make a breadcrumb trail, instructing him to make sure that he picks them all up on the way back. "Clever. Ppreciate ye, boss."

Out into the open air and south they went, crossing the river and entering the southern hills that bordered The Mazy Hillocks. Zell made sure to put a stone down at regular intervals, in wellplaced spots where junctures or multiple paths might confuse him. All the while they slowly progressed around to the westside of the city. The hours went by, all the while Zell tortured himself as his two sides argued.

You're too sentimental. You're too stupid. What about your friends? You barely know them. We fought shoulder to shoulder for our lives. Because you had to, not because you wanted to. Would a hero leave now? A hero would live to fight a battle that could be won and possibly save Mytheria, not throw his life away.

And it went on.

Zell eventually made a decision. He stopped putting down rainbow glint stones. He had no more need of them.

No sense in dying for nothing.

It hurt. It hurt so bad. But he knew that ripping off the band-aid always did. This was more like excising a tumor - a ball of emotions and feelings towards a bunch of strangers. A ball that would kill him. Every time one of Second Chance's faces entered his mind, he banished it quickly, filling his brain with other thoughts.

I wonder what Capitol City looks like, he pondered, moving a bushle of branches aside and holding them to let the Ambassador and the bodyguard past. The dirt path through the hills had become thin, but he remembered it being like this when he and his frien- he and the people he was with had needed to sneak back into the city. Fuck this whole 'tryna find out the truth' thing. I'm better off just making a life for myself. I died in that world. What the fuck do I care why I got a Secon- why I'm here now.

They made it onto the West Road and Zell let out a breath. "This is it," Zell told them. "I've changed my mind. I'm coming with." The Ambassador looked quizzically at him. "Don't ask."

Fortunately the other two didn't press him and everyone just started walking. Zell wouldn't have been able to take being questioned at this moment. He just wanted to get as far away as possible, so he didn't have to think about it anymore.

We'll be fine, he told himself. We'll be better than fine. We'll be great.

"Wait," Zell stopped not fifty yards down the road. The Ambassador and the bodyguard were once again eyeing Zell expectantly. "We?"

"Excuse me?" the Ambassador inquired.

You'll be fine, Zell thought. I said, 'We.' No, I didn't. Yes, I did.

"It's you, isn't it," Zell said, an accusatory tone as he looked at the Ambassador. The old man recoiled in confusion, but Zell wasn't talking to him. He was talking to Baphomet. "I should'a fucking known. You never shut up normally. Suddenly you go quiet?"

I'm trying to help you, Zell thought. Although, now he knew that it wasn't his own thought. Baphomet had evolved his game and was now using Zell's inner voice instead of his own. How long for, who could say? But Zell suspected it was the moment on the Ambassador's bed when he got that strange headache.

"I've gotta admit... you almost had me," Zell tried to say it in a cocky tone, but it came out weak and bitter. He was so tired of this game. Then he realised that the other two men with him were wide-eyed and wondering what the hell was going on. "You two go. I'm going back."

"Err," the Ambassador was a little wobbled but recovered to say, "I will not forget what you've gone out of your way to do for me, Zell Brooks. May the Quinity smile down on Valhiem in this desperate time."

Zell gave a lazy salute. "Best of luck, lads." And with that, he turned back the way they'd come.

There was no need for the wave of uncertainty that hit him when trying to find his way back to the last rainbow glint stone he'd dropped. It wasn't hard to get to as the path had become so one-way towards the end. Relief filled him when the moonlight bounced off the stone and into his vision and that uncertain part of him turned into anger that he was actually dumb enough to be going back. The city had done nothing to deserve his sacrifice and...

"Will you fuck off," Zell muttered to Baphomet. "It's not gonna work."

To be honest, a part of him (an actually true part of him this time) was repimanding himself for being a daft, sentimental twat. But it was an endearing reprimand. He smiled as he now thought of the faces of his friends. If they were going to die, so be it. At least they would die together. Looking out for eachother. Ultimate trust.

Fenna. James. Adam. MacKensie. Clive. Barracker............................. My comrades to the end.

Second Chance.

Picking up the last stone, he stepped over the tree roots and move through a bush, coming out the other side and looking around uncertainly for the tunnel entrance. A short whistle got his attention and he moved toward it, finding the tunnel and going in. What had to be four or five hours and of hoofing it on uneven ground was finally over. His ankles were hurting but not nearly as much as his head was.

"Fuck, I need a pint. Badly," he said to no one in particular, but looked towards the masked woman afterward. "Are the taps still on? If they're not, I'll pay you triple to pour me one beer. I'm begging."

When they got back to the Brass Monkey, Zell sat at the bar, realising the time. It was almost dawn. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes as he tried to soothe his headache. When he got his beer, "You're a star, boss," he offered up a gold piece.

After downing a good portion of the pint, he smacked his lips. "Ahhh, that hit the spot." He put the tankard down and grabbed the pouch of rainbow glint stones off his belt, putting them on the counter. He needed to return them, but his thoughts were everywhere, at this moment. "You know," he started to the rogue who poured his pint. "I gotta be the dumbest bastard alive. I just..." He shook his head as he stared at his pint, then looked up at the rogue. "I couldn't leave it like this - ye know? Even if all is lost - I'd rather live a few days as a Lion, than ten thousand more as a Snake."

"What about you?" Zell ended up asking. "Why are you still here? You've got the keys to the tunnel. Why stay?"

The silence was oppressing. It was a part nobody could ever truly get used to. The tension weighed down upon everyone so heavily, but how one managed it is what separated the professionals.

Filtering through the nighttime noises, Olaf was the first to hear the coming footsteps. Ever so slightly, the shrouded heavy crossbow shifted in the direction of the noise. Pete crouched low in the shadows, a tarnished blade unsheathed and ready. Kerensa stood stoic, arms and hands concealed by her long cloak, hiding the deadly instruments underneath. Finally, Alison waited in the back, staring at the rustling leaves barely visible in the moonlight. She gave a barely perceptible nod to Pete, who gave a quick whistle.

It was hard to stifle the sigh, Alison found, as Zell Brooks stepped through the brush. Alison stood and walked forward, still ready. She looked up at Olaf's spot to confirm. The stout man slowly turned and nodded. No unwanted followers.

Without a word she turned back toward the tunnel, her team silently following. Zell seemed to get the memo and followed them into the tunnel. As Zell entered, Alison and Pete passed him carrying what looked like branches, dirty rags, a shovel, and some tools. Quietly, they began their work camouflaging the tunnel. Alison remembered the number of techniques the cartels would use to hide there, a favorite being the simple refilling of the entrance just enough.

Once the entrance was covered, the pair then set to work on the final step. Not to waste their contingency, they began setting up a trap for the entrance. A thin wire was stretched across the floor, set to a simple striking pin that would set the explosives off. Then another, even thinner wire was run right next to the thicker wire. Inspired by the Indonesian Insurgents, Alison utilized a double failsafe design. One wire would trigger based on increased tension, a conventional tripwire. But the other was based on a release of tension, the tamper-safe wire. Should someone foolishly cut both, the device would trigger anyway.

With their handiwork complete and the secret tunnel secured, they began to make their way to the entrance, hooded lamp in hand. Alison walked behind Zell, staring into the back of his head. Though concealed by the darkness and her mask, a soft smile was on her face. Her other compatriots seem to share the same look in their eyes. A single word.

"Loyalty."

---

"Fuck, I need a pint. Badly," Zell said as they finally exited the tunnel. It came into a dusty cellar of a warehouse neighboring The Brass Monkey. Olaf was the last to exit and helped Pete shift the large crate and tarp over the entrance before catching up. Alison watched as Zell continued. "Are the taps still on? If they're not, I'll pay you triple to pour me one beer. I'm begging.".

Alison turned away from them as they finished covering "Well for a clean job like that, I think it won't matter if they aren't. C'mon."

They returned to the Brass Monkey, and it was finally at that point Alison and her team all let out a loud sigh of relief and perhaps, a little disappointment. The establishment was pretty empty at the moment, the old man was, well, old after all and so was not manning the counter. Alison didn't care. She knew by now how things worked around the joint. Walking behind the bar, she pulled the lever and poured herself and her crew their beers. They all sat across from her at the bar, along with Zell. Pete sitting to his right and Kerensa sitting to his left with Olaf next to her.

Pete pulled back his hood and mask revealing his pock-marked face and crooked grin. Kerensa, as graceful as ever, revealed her flowing silver hair and practically spotless face, aside from the terrifying burn scar covering her lower neck and left cheek. Olaf merely leaned back with a grunt, face still smudged with mud and ash as he picked at the few leaves still sticking out of his hair. Alison herself pulled down her mask with a sigh and pulled back the hood of her cloak. Zell produced a gold coin but Alison waved him off good-naturedly. She handed the four in front of her their beers and almost in unison and without comment, all took a long, well-earned pull from them.

After they all downed a good portion of the pint, Zell smacked his lips. "Ahhh, that hit the spot." He put the tankard down and grabbed the pouch of rainbow glint stones off his belt, putting them on the counter. Pete grabbed it up and smacked him on the back with a laugh.

"Good fella yous all like! Gots to say there fella, we was all holdin our breaths, ready to cut a beasty up the middle wit the way you was tramplin up to us! Clearly ya nevuh hunted or nothin man, that was right silly it was. Ole Olaf woulda had ya on a spit roast by now if yous a deer." Pete said with a laugh. Kerensa merely smiled and continued to now more properly and politely sip from her drink.

"You know," Zell started to Alison "I gotta be the dumbest bastard alive. I just..." He shook his head as he stared at his pint, then looked up at her. "I couldn't leave it like this - ye know? Even if all is lost - I'd rather live a few days as a Lion, than ten thousand more as a Snake." Zell then posed a question "What about you? Why are you still here? You've got the keys to the tunnel. Why stay?".

Alison leaned against the bar and fixed him with her cold, blue eyes. There was a brief moment of silence, of expectation, as her eyes scanned his face. After what may have seemed to be an eternity, her expression finally turned into a grin and she shook her head. It was just them in the Brass Monkey right now, anyone else was passed out drunk or too drunk to hear/care. "Because, Zell Brooks, like you I was given a... second chance. For the longest time, I thought I was the only one. When I stumbled out of that stone coffin in the middle of nowhere, at no point in my life had I ever thought was that stranded. A whole world, a whole reality away from what I called home and what I spent so much of my life defending."

Alison paused, taking a sip from her beer. "Ahh..., but I made do. Set a goal. Find out why I was brought here, why I was torn from my... purpose. But for a while, I didn't have anything to go off of, just had to make my way to find answers. First, make friends, then, meet people I could trust." She gestured to the three sitting around him. "And then, Pete here gives me good info. Tells me about you, about your little group. Second Chance. Cute name. I like it. Tells me that your infamous little band of heroes are actually like me, not from this world. That you are people who died and woke up in this, bizarre fairy tale of a world. Where undead roam the lands, wizards cast spells, and the very souls of people can be trapped in infinite time loops of despair and horror. What fun! But I wasn't having any."

They all seem to collectively shiver upon that last detail. "Do you have to always bring up that blasted hell Al'ee? You keep ruining my drinking streak of trying to forget that place!" Olaf said angrily. Alison apologetically refilled his flagon while Kerensa patted him on the head in comfort.

"Sorry Olaf, look, the point is Zell, finding out about your group is the closest I've ever come to figuring out what the hell is going on with this place. Why us? Was it for our skills? Intel? What is so powerful to rip us from our realities... not to mention all the other, deeper implications of all of this? This has weighed heavy on me, but earlier today I finally got my first real piece of that puzzle."

Alison sighed, thinking about the encounter. "I met that lovely French girl, Mackenzie. She told me about you and the rest of your group. She told me about what you guys went through to get here, and how you're still about as confused as I am. But as she talked... the way she talked about you guys... it made me happy to hear that you guys stuck through it. You worked together and stuck together."

Alsion grinned knowingly. "So when I find out that you muscled your way onto my job, I thought I was either going to give you all the free beer you want tonight if you come back or gut you into a roadside ditch for abandoning that sweet smile of hers. Thankfully..." her features finally softened into a more warm, genuine smile. "It seems Mackenzie's praise wasn't misplaced. She genuinely cares about all of you."

"So unfortunately fur us lot, that damn blondie bewitched our boss ere with those cute laughs and honey words about yous and now we stuck in this town. Bastard you are, ya know that? Well meanin bastard, but yous a bastard right through." Pete said, throwing a friendly punch into his shoulder. Kerensa gave a soft laugh.

"Personally, I think it's wonderful Master Brooks proved his loyalty to his friends tonight. I think it shows we have a chance after overcoming this great battle. If the bonds we have break before the walls, then we would have no choice but to abandon that poor girl." Kerensa said in her soft, refined voice. Olaf nodded to this as well.

Alison nodded to them both before crossing her arms and staring back at Zell. "Well, there you have it buddy. Your answer. So the next question now has a much harder answer..."

"How do we save this ship from sinking?"

@Saiyan

He listened as Adam explained the situation.

A pit formed in his stomach as Adam explained in detail his situation.

"Okay, shit, wait let me think, fuck, wait, give me a second"

It was... bad(?), okay it was bad, potentially catastrophic? it was a complicated situation at least. Leaking information during a situation like this was a terrible fucking idea, but maybe the enemy would think it was a deliberate attempt? Not a chance. It was fucking Saladin, there were rumors the guy slept in his closet while a double slept in his bed with an eye open.

This...

If the enemy knew they knew then the timetable was fucking accelerated into the stratosphere. Forget 10 days they could be plotting to attack right now!

There were also other concerns.

How could he protect Adam from possible inside retaliation? Logically he should go with a slap on the wrist, anyone important knew he punched above his weight class and that would be invaluable once the barriers fell but what about the fill and rank? He needed to shift the blame but how? He needed to attack the problem from the beginning, what was the origin of the problem - Adam sent a message, okay that was the origin but not the root of it, the root was - that the Witch Queen was aware of his party messages.

His eyes narrowed.

Was the Witch aware of all messages or just those of his party?

There was an angle there, he casted his attention back to when they opened the message.

Fear was not an emotion Zigmund Mugba-Zarack was familiar with but in HER prescence? He was terrified.

He needed to distract himself, Lucy!, he should- no, he was panicking, acting foolishly, yes this was uncommon but Hacking was a known practice, of course SHE would have access to it and if she had caught on their existence it was rational to guess that she would try to do something about it.

Just in case better keep it under wraps at the moment.

Walking towards Lucy he spoke loudly "Thank you, the message was not what we expected and it raised some questions but is good to at least have a lead" giving her a nod he moved on.

He paled.

Did-did anyone tell her about it? He tried to remember but he drew a blank, she must know about it, she had been in the room with them, just a few steps away, besides! She had seen how shaken they were, surely...

Surely...

Oh no.

The panic from Adam was making his own worse. He needed to calm down, HE NEEDED TO CALM DOWN!

"Okay, okay" He took a deep breath "First off, stop thinking about running to the enemy that is just plain stupid, it's your panic speaking. Second, second" He needed a moment, just a moment "Adam, did we ever tell Lucy that the Witch Queen was interfering with communications?"

He looked at the man in front of him and his heart crumbled at the sight.

"We need to go. Now"